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jeysbvck · 3 years ago

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nothing else matters - part 1

a/n: i'm back with another eddie munson fic, only this time it's a multi chapter story! special shout out to @aprilfire18 for the request that this came from, and to @rishlurh for being my hype person<3

warnings: fem reader, canon divergent, some of s4 does happen in this fic let's not dwell on what ive left out, its fine! death, vampire reader, angst, language, if ive missed anything then pls let me know!

word count: 2k

taglist: @oeuryale <3

summary: when you die in eddies arms in the Upside Down, it was the worst day of his life, and he's struggling to deal with it. so when he seemingly sees you, alive and in hawkins, there's nothing he won't do to figure out what's going on, because he's not ready to let you go. but what does it mean, and are you really alive?

Eddie looked around the trailer park, everything was exactly the same, just creepier, with vines everywhere, consuming everything and anything that got in their way. This wasn't right, he wasn't supposed to be here, not again. So why was he? He tried to run, to pick his feet up and get the hell out of there, but he was rooted to the spot. He looked down; no vines were keeping him captive; his feet were just refusing to do what his brain was screaming at them to do. He started to panic, especially when he saw the horde of bats flying toward him. He gripped his thigh and started yanking at his leg, as if he was trying to escape from quicksand, but it was no use, all he could do was stand there and wait.

Just as the bats started to descend on him and circle around him like they were toying with their prey, something, or more accurately, someone, shoved Eddie from the side, knocking him off his feet and onto his ass. He looked up and saw you standing there, waving a baseball bat with barbed wire wrapped around the top, grinning at him smugly. He then watched as you began to bat the creatures away, their screeches when you made contact with them echoing out, piercing Eddie's eardrums. The creatures started to overwhelm you, and when Eddie tried to stand up, just like before, he was stuck to the floor, unable to move. Why couldn't he move? He yelled as loud as he can, hoping that at least some of the bats came at him instead of you, but it was like he didn't matter, or even exist to them.

With a bat's tail wrapped around your neck, squeezing the life out of you, and another swarm taking chunks out of your torso and legs, you stared at Eddie and he could see the pain in your eyes, the desperate look, begging him to help. All of a sudden, Eddie was finally able to get to his feet, the makeshift sword and shield he'd made a few hours before with Dustin appearing at his feet, with no warning or reason. He didn't question it though, he just grabbed them and began to attack the bats in an attempt to break into the circle they had you trapped in. But, as abruptly as he was able to stand, the bats began to disperse, unlatching themselves from your body, and leaving you to tumble forward. The sword and shield clattered to the floor as Eddie flung himself toward you, catching you in his arms, and bringing you to the floor.

"Shit! Shit!" Eddie panicked, his eyes wide as they scanned your injuries. The purple bruises on your neck and the pools of blood seeping from your torn clothes were visible, even in the darkness.

"What's going- oh, shit..." Dustin's voice rang out and you shook your head, pleading with Eddie not to let the curly-haired kid see you like this.

"Dustin! Go get the walkie, radio the others, hurry!" Eddie yelled, making Dustin hobble off as fast as he could.

Eddie looked down at you to find you staring up at him, tears in your eyes. He could see you fading, fighting to stay conscious, and -although he'd never done it before - he prayed that you'd stay with him as he ran his hands through your hair comfortingly.

"Just hold on, okay? The others will be here any minute, Nance will know what to do."

"Yeah." You replied with a smile. He knew what you were thinking, that he was trying to convince himself more than you. "Eddie, you know I love you, right?"

"Stop it, you're going to be fine."

"Eddie, please, I'm not in pain." You whispered, your voice cracking. you both knew that wasn't a good sign, and Eddie held back a strangled sob. "You know I love you, right?" You repeated.

He nodded. "Yes, I know you love me, and I love you, so fucking much." Eddie replied, leaning forward to kiss you softly. The tears streamed down both of your cheeks, both terrified of you leaving. Your eyelids fluttered closed and Eddie shook you, firmly but gently, making your eyes snap open. "Hey, hey! Stay with me!"

"I'm really tired." You whispered.

"I know, but I'm not ready to lose you."

You smiled at the metalhead, and Eddie saw the sadness behind it, as much as you tried to mask it. Under the flashes of red light, Eddie could see the adoration in your eyes, looking at him like nobody ever had before. "I'm not ready to leave." You replied. You cupped his face with your hand and Eddie leaned into it, placing his own around yours. "Eddie, I'm so fucking sorry."

"What? You don't need to be sorry, love. Everything will be okay." He promised, trying to soothe you.

"We had so many plans." You said, through the spluttering and the tears. Eddie could see that you were fading in and out as you tried so hard not to listen to your body. "Promise me you'll graduate this year, Munson. Please don't let me be the reason you don't. This is your year, remember."

Eddie didn't want to promise that, how could he graduate without you? How could he live his life without you? How could he be expected to go on, knowing that it should've been him instead of you?

"Eddie." You said, your breathing labored, voice raspy and broken; the desperation evident in your voice, begging him for this final promise.

"I promise." Eddie replied.

You smiled as he leaned forward again, both of you broken as you shared a final kiss. Eddie left his lips on yours for a moment, basking in how soft your lips were, taking in as much of your scent as he could. "Tell the others I love them, please, and my family?" You asked him as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. "Tell them I really tried to stay, please? Don't let them forget me."

"Of course I will." He replied, no longer able to keep the tears spilling from his eyes. Eddie didn't think he would ever recover from this heartbreak, the pain he was feeling right now would never ever leave him, and nor would you. He was never going to forget you, the light of his life, and he'd never let anyone else forget you either.

"You were the best part of my life, you know? I love you Edward Munson, in this life, and the next."

"I love you too." He said, holding you close to his chest. As your eyes fluttered shut, and Eddie felt you take your final breath, he let out an ear-splitting, heartbreaking cry that echoed through the Upside Down, letting Dustin, and Steve, Nancy and Robin - who had just arrived at the entrance of the trailer park - that it was too late.

Eddie's eyes shot open and he found himself in his bedroom, lying in a pool of sweat. You're at home, you're in bed, it was just a nightmare, he thought to himself as he climbed out of bed and stripped off the wet t-shirt, changing it for a clean one. It wasn't just a nightmare though, he wasn't going to wake up one day with you alive and safe. For months, he'd been forced to relive your death every time he fell asleep, which resulted in him trying his hardest to stay awake. He grabbed his cigarettes and lighter from his desk, and took a moment to trace his fingertip over the photograph of you and him that lived on his desk, right next to his diploma. He had managed, miraculously, to keep his promise to you and graduate, although he knew he had Robin and Nancy to thank for that. They were never going to let him fail the year again, especially after he told them about his final promise to you, so they used all their spare time helping him.

When he finally took to the stage, it was a bittersweet moment. He was grateful to his friends, and his uncle, especially when his name was called out, and they all stood up and cheered wildly for him. Of course, Wayne, Dustin, Steve, Robin, and Nancy had come to support him, but Mike and Lucas had also turned up, along with their friends Will and El. But he knew - and so did they - that he'd trade them all in a heartbeat if it meant you could be there, alive, and not in spirit like everyone kept saying. But he couldn't, and so he hugged each of them as they took turns congratulating him, and he tried not to think about the pain in his chest when he saw the empty seat that Robin had purchased for you.

Eddie headed out the trailer door, making sure not to wake Wayne, who was asleep after a long night shift and headed for Family Video, hoping Steve or Robin were working the morning shift. He didn't usually do this, and he knew they'd be surprised, but he needed a distraction, he needed just a few moments of not thinking about you, or the guilt he felt over your death. As he walked past Maxs' trailer, he thought about the sassy redhead and made a mental note to ask Steve how she was doing, and if there was anything she, or Lucas, needed from him. He could empathize with Lucas, Max had died in his arms, if only for a minute, and he wanted the kid to know he wasn't alone, that Eddie knew how that felt.

Since your death, Eddie had tried to revert back to his old self, back to the days when he was a loner who didn't need anyone, especially someone that hung around with Steve 'the Hair' Harrington. But his friends could see that's what he was trying to do, and they knew that it wouldn't help him, so they refused to be pushed away. When Eddie rejected their offers to hang out, they'd turn up at his trailer and hang out, even if it meant sitting in silence for hours. When he stopped turning up to Hellfire, Steve bundled the kids into his car and drove them to Eddie's, forcing him to host DnD. When Nancy wanted to practice her shooting skills, she'd ask Eddie to accompany her into the forest, promising to let him take his frustrations out on the trash she'd collected for target practice. As much as Eddie would deny it, they were succeeding in helping him, as much as they could anyway, and he was starting to lean on them for support. Which is why he was now actively seeking them out at work, in hopes that they'd be able to give him some sort of distraction.

The universe seemed to have other ideas though. When Eddie turned the corner to Family Video, he got the shock of his life, and he froze. There was a woman staring into the window of the video store, she was pale, paler than anything he'd ever seen before like there was no blood running through her veins, and she was your doppelganger, even wearing the same outfit you were on that fateful day. His blood ran cold, and on shaky legs, he managed to take a few steps forward, closing the gap between him and this woman as he whispered your name. He was seeing things, right? This wasn't real.

"Eddie, hey!"

Eddie's gaze left the woman for a split second, as Robins voice came from the store door, greeting Eddie with slight surprise that he was here. Eddie ignored her, his eyes snapping back to the strange woman, but she was gone, and Eddie let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Eddie? Are you okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost." Robin remarked, and Eddie chuckled, dryly.

"Yeah, Hawkins is full of them, right?"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #my writing*#stranger things #stranger things fic

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years ago

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ANOTHER PART?! OH LORDIE OF NOTTINGHAM!!!

I LOVE IT SO MUCH

YOU ARE AMAZING

THE MORE THE MERRIER

I LOVE HOW YOU ARE PUTTING THIS TOGETHER

I CANT WAIT FOR MORE

THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS VERY VERY FUCKING HELL OF SPECIFIC REQUEST

I STILL CANT BELIEVE YOU ARE WRITING IT

AND CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!!! PLEASE CONTINUE ASAP!

OOOOH...

So, I've been asked by some people to finish this and it stressed me out a lot lol

I don't want to disappoint any of you :(

But...here goes...

Vows - Part III

Words : a whopping 2.8 k

Warnings: Sadness, slight injury, some screaming

You didn’t even really know where you were headed; all you knew was that you had to get out of there before Thranduil or anyone else could catch you and try to reason with you.

Of course, you knew that your husband was not a monster and that he bore you no ill-will whatsoever but – and this was the part you were afraid others might not understand – there was a massive difference between not being actively hated and abused and being truly cherished.

For the longest time, you had thought that being spared from the first would make never achieving or obtaining the latter less important but – with every passing day – the awful absence of an affection that you poured out so liberally dug deeper grooves into your soul.

You had almost reached the middle of the forest – already the dense growth was thinning – when you heard a voice call your name frantically.

It felt as if he was running through quicksand; those trees and paths that he knew like the back of his hand were looming and undulating like living foes around his shivering body.

The whole world – his world – seemed to conspire against him; Legolas cursed when his foot caught in a root, and he slammed into a tree trunk violently before regaining his balance.

“I know,” he hissed as the forest around him whispered that he deserved no better for the way he had treated a true and honest soul, “I am on my way to at least try and make it right.”

And then he saw you, walking slowly as if in a dream just ahead of him; with renewed vigour and, carried forward by the weight of guilt on his heart that he felt would suffocate him if he could not unburden himself to you, he settled into a smooth, purposeful run while calling your name.

It took a second for you to fully comprehend that it was indeed Legolas – your husband – who was following you with quick, lithe steps.

He called to you to stop retreating; while you were slightly panting, he seemed as nonchalant and relaxed as if he had been merely out for a stroll.

You had had a solid head start and yet, he seemed barely tired after catching up easily, his natural grace a thorn in your side and his warm smile a blade on your soul.

“Where did you go? And why did you leave your wedding ring behind?” he asked, avoiding your gaze as he now stepped in time with you casually.

“Did you not see or read my letter, husband?” you shot back, trying hard to keep your voice level and calm despite the tempest of emotions raging inside you.

“I did see it, but – as you were gone – I have not read it yet,” he replied, but his polite smile flickered and trembled at the edges.

As your eyes lingered longer on his face, you realised that he was unusually sallow and that his own gaze was strained and haunted under the surface layer of charming nonchalance.

“Of course, you haven’t,” you sighed; what had you expected? That – for once – he’d care enough? No, the loss of his wife, the dent in his public image her departure would have, took precedence over her feelings or needs, as always.

“I have it here with me,” Legolas commented, brandishing the smooth paper like a proof of you knew not what, “I shall read it this instant.”

His face stilled into an expressionless blankness such as the mirror-like surface of a deep and mysterious lake as his eyes flew over the page – covered in dense but elegant writing – carefully.

“I was not aware that you were this unhappy, my lady,” he finally said, and you felt an impuissant rage flood your mind with roaring thunder.

“Do you truly care? For it lay within your power to make me less miserable and yet, you did nothing to that effect,” you muttered, a bitterness you had thought dried-up erupting like a volcano on your tongue.

Legolas had the good grace to look repentant; he nodded slowly as he admitted that he was well aware that he had been far from a good husband to you.

“I am truly sorry,” he said, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, “I was acting in a despicable, selfish manner. I truly believed – far from me be it to think that an excuse – that you had accepted my hand in marriage out of obedience and maybe political designs; I have never had the feeling that my presence or absence made any difference to you.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” you replied sharply, “I am not the prince, so yes, of course I married you out of obedience. That does not prevent me from finding you charming and worthy of love, a courtesy you did not seem to deem me deserving of apparently.”

“Who said that?” he asked, horrified by your innuendo.

Fatigue surged within you like a numbing poison, slowing your heart to a painful crawl and making your breath burn in your lungs; nobody had to tell you anything as actions spoke louder than words.

Your husband’s eyes widened as his lips traced the words you had just spat out like rotten meat carefully, chasing the deep truth that had slipped his distracted and tortured mind at hearing them.

“Love? Did you say ‘love’?” he finally asked very stoically, his fingers twitching at his sides as if he was fighting the urge of pulling you closer or pushing you away.

“I did,” you admitted, too exhausted by your flight and the long years of deprivation to throw up walls; he had sculpted the prison of loneliness and shame that fit you like a gown out of cold stone, it was only fair that he was made to look upon it.

Silence fell like a veil over your husband as he realised that no words – no matter how earnest or poetic – he could come up with would ever be able to encompass the extent of his wrong-doing.

Turning away abruptly, Legolas strode away a few paces.

“So you leave, yet again?” You were ashamed of how raw and hurt your voice sounded despite your determination not to let him see just how deeply he had wounded you.

“No,” he replied tonelessly, “I just do not want you to have to look at my face anymore.”

“I like looking at your face,” you protested, “would that I could have looked at your face for decades and centuries.”

“I am so terribly dumb,” he muttered, disgust for his own failure dripping like wax from every pristinely clear syllable.

“You are nothing of the kind,” you said softly, walking around him to make him meet your eyes, “you are merely very spoiled indeed.”

“I…what?” His eyes widened in surprise, but he refrained from contradicting you outright.

To you, things were so painfully clear; Legolas was used to being loved and all the things people did out of affection were utterly normal and – to a certain extent – even expected by him.

Thranduil, self-possessed and chilly, had raised him in the certainty that he’d always be cherished and protected and so, Legolas had not learned that love was not a given and that it cost people effort and bravery to express it.

“There’s not a soul who’s met you that didn’t love you, is there?” you asked gently, a wave of empathy surging – against your better knowledge and despite your own hurt pride – within your tender heart.

“Hmmm, you’d have to ask those dwarves Tauriel is chasing,” he replied easily; as your face froze into a mask of dejection, he realised that it had been a mistake to bring her up.

“I can see why she’d win your affection over me,” you whispered, the ghost of that old hurt a plaintive violin that disrupted the melody of your voice, “you are a hunter after all; why would you desire and chase what is already yours?”

“I am thrice dumb,” Legolas repeated his previous assessment, “for I thought she cared for me in all the ways you didn’t…only, I’ve confronted her about it, and she laughed in my face. You are wrong about me; it was never the thrill of the chase but – on the contrary – the desperate need to be truly loved.”

“Why would she do that?” you asked – aghast to hear that this mere guard had been this disrespectful to her prince and friend – and waited patiently for him to push through his own feelings of shame before you could respond to that other element that burned like acid in your heart.

Maybe, you were more alike than you’d ever have thought.

“It should be more embarrassing to admit this, but – as I’ve recently learned – you have been the keeper of my secrets for longer than I’d ever have imagined,” he spoke startingly as if he was pushing the words up a steep hill, “but yes, Tauriel has revealed to me that all the things I’d thought she’d done behind my back out of affection had never been performed by her at all.”

He sighed deeply; the knot in his soul bursting open like a dam that made his thoughts run like a river, crashing over the boulders of convention and politeness, washing every obstacle away by its sheer brute violence.

“I was so terribly lonely and – I admit – childishly afraid that I dreamed myself up a woman who’d love me for me and projected her onto Tauriel, who was a friend, someone I was not intimidated by.”

Your gaze and your expression softened further; while you had been prepared for your wedding and matrimony all your life, there had been many things in his life that had taken precedence in his education. Of course, he would have been terrified to find himself saddled with a stranger he now – at least officially – was responsible for.

“As it turns out – and it shames me to understand that this had been clear to everyone but me – this woman as such has never existed. I was in love with an imaginary soul planted into the very real body of a person I knew.”

He groaned then, lifting his slender hands to his temples in agony.

“Only,” he went on, “this imaginary lover – giver of solace, bringer of hope – was already imbedded in a real body, a body that was within my reach, a body so exquisite and pure that I’d been afraid to defile it by ever laying hands upon such perfection.”

Ridiculous, you thought, knelt down and scooped up a handful of dirt that you proceeded to rub all over your dress, your face, and your hair.

“What are you doing, my dear?” Legolas cried out in shock.

“I was raised to be perfect for my husband,” you bellowed, giving voice to your helpless frustration and letting go of the penned-up energy that had been sleeping, coiled like a wire, inside you, “and I loathed every second of it.”

Still, he looked at you as if you had lost your mind, which might well have been the case.

“Behold, Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of the cursed forest, son of Thranduil, creature of starlight and song, your wife,” you howled, “a woman like many another, wild, angry, hurt! I hate you as much as I love you, you know that?”

A sudden fire came into his eyes as his own voice rose like a storm: “Tell me!”

“I have suffered in silence, ever perfect, under your neglect,” you screeched, “while you followed Tauriel blindly. Was I jealous? Sure, you are my husband after all, but more than anything, I envied you both…for being allowed to run wild and free, to chase dwarves and orcs, to be your own people without carrying the weight of the court on your shoulders.”

Legolas’ face fell again, but – like the excellent prince he was – he caught himself and met your gaze unwaveringly now as he apologised.

“I resented my father for choosing a bride for me,” he admitted, “one who was much better at the things necessary than I was, better than he is himself I surmise; it felt as if he was trying to correct his overindulgence of me in my formative years by imposing a jailor on me now. And weren’t you perfect? Hauntingly so!”

“I was forced into this as much as you,” you raged, pushing back against his thinly veiled elusions, “and yet, I found a way to make the best out of the situation.”

“I have never denied – actually, I’ve said it time and again – that you’re the better person, diplomat, and spouse in this matter,” he shot back.

Your hand lifted to settle on his cheek gently, a smile spreading over your face when he leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

“You are a good soul, Legolas,” you whispered gently, “and I like you. You’ve always been kind to me when we met at court. I only want what’s best for you!”

“For me?” he asked, his lids lifting over the intense fire of his crystalline, blue eyes now as they sought yours to gauge your honesty.

“Our marriage is good for the realm,” you acquiesced slowly, “but – as it is – it will hurt us both. If you want to be with Tauriel, I can sail now…”

“NO,” Legolas looked startled by his own vehemence, “no…I cannot lose you. Not now…how selfish this sounds…”

He rubbed his hands over his face, spreading the mud and dust your palm had left like a mark on his cheek.

“I have been in love with your soul, with your care, with your thoughtfulness for many a year now,” he said, “only, I never knew it was you I loved. You must think me an utter fool!”

“Not at all,” you replied, for you knew full well that it had been your own pride that had prevented you from revealing to your husband just how much you cherished him and how much you were willing to do and sacrifice for his well-being.

Hiding behind your overly cautious and euphemistic upbringing, you had never claimed all the loving actions as yours, leaving Legolas in the dark as to your own motivations and feelings.

“Let’s go home, darling,” he said softly, “night is upon us, and I am weary from having run all the way from the palace in a blind panic, afraid that I had lost you forever,” he pleaded, taking your hands into his tenderly, “let me try to explain, to expunge my sin, to win your love.”

You could feel the welts of small cuts on his palm and tried to pull your own dirty hands out of his grasp, but his fingers tightened slowly but unstoppably around yours.

“My admiration and respect have ever been yours,” you smiled, “my love has been won by watching you take good care of your realm and your people through the years.”

His wide-eyed surprise made you chuckle.

“There are many things I should have told you about, my prince,” you nodded, “and I shall remedy that omission as soon as we get home.”

“Home? So…you’ll come back with me?” he asked hopefully, “You’ll let me run you a bath?”

“Yes,” you said – a decision much too easy to make based on everything that had happened – and let him hold your hand as you walked slowly back to the palace of his father.

If disappointed love was cause enough to run away like a thief in the night, surely, hopeful love would be enough to warrant a late-night-stroll under your beloved stars.

“Won’t your father miss you for dinner?” you asked as Thranduil’s home came into view.

“He’ll understand,” Legolas smiled, “his plans often take a long time to burst into bloom, but they eventually do.”

As he lifted your – still rather dirty – hand to his lips, curved into a joyous even though tired smile, you could appreciate the patience and forethought of Thranduil – master-gardener who saw the tree as he planted the seed – and you were willing to trust in his wisdom.

“I promise you this,” Legolas breathed as his lips travelled from your hand to your cheek, “I shall be a better partner to you; I vow to be a more attentive and pro-active prince.”

“And you’ll break me out of this glass cage?” you asked hopefully.

“Consider it done,” Legolas grinned and pressed his smooth, warm lips onto your hungry, mud-smeared mouth with as much unbridled passion as you could ever have imagined in the long, lonely nights of well-bred obedience.

So, dear people, this was it...I hope you liked this...

Thank you for all of your support and lovely comments, it truly means the world to me 💖💖💖

All the best from me,

💖

-> Addendum

Taglist:

@pepa-madrigal-enthusiast @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @sopanngon @eunoia4mind @professor-petty @monswolff @xinnyscorner

#Little late #fotfics bingo #last one #challenge #sequel of the sequel of a story #Legolas #legolas greenleaf #legolas x reader #forced marriage #emotional cheating #rejection #last part #the hobbit #lotr #fanfiction

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hyckinthos · 1 year ago

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His idea. Hilarious. Most despairing was that Apollo had to genuinely believe that. Idle talks of pain and suffering bred fear and dampened resolve, occupying the mind was as important to preparedness as training itself. Given time to chat gave time to worry. The Spartan had steeled himself the moment he came to this realm, Oztalun's death had unlocked the cages of many, and if Apollo could frolic about this plane as he saw fit then Hyacinth would do what he could to protect it. It was true, the avariel did not respect the denizens of this realm: laziness and complacency muddled with incessant complaining married with inaction defined the generations that had followed his own. Were he to remain there was no real place for him here, but that was the fate of all of his kind, a medley of divinity that had only ever built foundations upon quicksand.

This was the burden of falling for someone whose rationale and ideology had been fiercely conscripted by the Athenians for a reason. The God's Apollonian rational saw the cause and effect of this war ahead, the battle that would take the lives of so many. Sparta's ethics remained ingrained upon him, his indelible soul marked by virtue of birth, upbringing, and ages of battle. Hyacinth hadn't come to watch this world burn, he'd come to do his part in shielding it or stand on his feet as he was baptised by flames: spear raised.

Fate was fickle and Hyacinth had no desire to venture into battle with it hanging over his head, but Sparta's piety rivaled the surrounding countries of antiquity. He would not ask the God what he had seen because that was the workings of mania and phobos, "Enough," came the Spartan's quiet request, Apollo's prophecies were for the God alone, and for those who foolishly opened their mouth to him. Hyacinth's fingers threaded along the side of the other's head, it was not in the nature of Gods to see any beyond their own as an equal, but the demigod never saw Apollo sink to his knees for anyone else. Apollo was not his patron and Hyacinth was not some subservient priest begging for a boon, they looked at one another in the eyes as equals; at least, that's how Hyacinth always saw it. The Spartan's gaze was only soft for Apollo: but they were still the eyes of a Spartan. He pressed his lips to the God's forehead, an uncharacteristic smile faint but still present on Hyacinth's lips. Apollo was the only one he ever repeated himself for. "I'm late."

Apollo did not lose. If someone looked like they would best the god, he took them out. Plain and simple. Hyacinth's quiet plea did not fall on deaf ears. The god was benevolent, sure, but he was undoubtedly selfish. He knew what Hyacinth ran after, and the god did not wish to see him lost once again. There was nothing good coming, Apollo moved now as he pushed down between Hyacinth's knees, hands resting on his thighs. The god never got down on the floor for just anyone, but he figured an impassioned plea was overdue.

"Hyacinth," he murmured the other's name, an air of seriousness about him that barely graced Apollo's features. The god thought seriousness was boring on everyone but Hyacinth, "I know it was my brilliant idea to come and watch this realm burn, but do you need to get involved? There is so much pain – so much death – I've seen it." The prophecies were clear, and he didn't wish to watch his avariel get hurt. Not again. Apollo held onto memories, as aloof as he seemed, but the one where he'd nearly lost the avariel was one that he held too close to chest. Any who wished to get to him would simply have to look to Hyacinth.

#apollo

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quintchess · 3 years ago

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Heyo! Your writing is incredible!! I saw you take writing requests, so I was wondering if I could request a Villain that has to drug/kidnap Hero for their own good. It's one of my favorite hero x villain tropes!

Request #1

Warning: drugged, implied kidnapping

Pressing their heated forehead against the car window, Hero never stopped breathing deeply, trying to inhale every bit of air around them. The cool surface of the glass cooled their skin and partly helped them to remain calm, but their burdensome state wouldn’t leave them.

The slight tremor in their hands reverberated throughout their body, making everything around them shake. Hero didn't realize at first that the car had stopped.

Without turning off the engine, Sidekick turned to the hero, looking at them from the driver's seat. “Are you sure you want to be here like this?” They looked at Hero with sorrow, realizing that they hadn’t registered their words.

Hoping to reason with them, Sidekick continued. “You haven't been looking well for the last few days. This is just a bank robbery. I could have dealt with it myself.”

“Exactly.“ Hero uttered in a low voice, finally pulling away from the glass. They rubbed their forehead and lightly shook their shoulders to put themselves together. “This is just a bank robbery. I can handle it.”

Despite all their efforts to put their former energy into their own voice, Hero couldn’t completely convince Sidekick. It was the first time the hero had asked them to drive a car, although they had always handled it perfectly themselves before.

Fortunately, even with their learner’s license, Sidekick turned out to be a good driver. “I don't know, I still think you need to see a doctor.”

Chuckling as if they hadn't heard anything stupider, Hero lightly patted their own face, convincing themselves that they were perfectly fine. “I’m just a bit tired. Work as a hero for a couple of years, and you'll understand what it is.” After leaving the car and before closing the door behind them, Hero added. “Don't wait for me.”

Stretching their neck and shoulders, the hero looked ahead, determining where to go. A thin haze in their mind didn’t let to figure out where they were right away. All they knew was that they had to be a block away from the bank to avoid any unwanted attention.

An inexplicable heaviness in their legs chained them to the pavement, and, as if immersed in quicksand, it took them a lot of effort to take the first step.

The next steps didn’t seem easier, but with each foot they crossed, Hero seemed to get more used to walking in their state. Every bone in their entire body was trembling, feeling especially fragile, like one sudden stone and a fracture would happen.

But the hero didn't even have the thought of staying at home tonight. A sense of duty was much more important than their own condition. They kept conviencing themselves it was just fatigue. They can always find some time to rest later.

Eventually, the cool night air relieved a small part of their exhaustion, giving them the opportunity to switch to running. It was taking them too long to get to their destination point and they started to worry that Villain might escape before their arrival.

Perhaps running wasn't the best Hero's idea; their vision couldn't focus on anything, and they ran relying only on their muscle memory, but they got to the bank just in time.

Without remembering their path, the hero took their way towards the back door of the bank, assuming the villain wouldn’t use the front one to commit the robbery.

Hero stopped to catch their breath and ran their hot palms over their equally hot face. Their lungs refused to work, giving them almost instantaneous shortness of breath, no matter how greedily they inhaled oxygen. The hero wanted to sit down on the ground, just to catch their breath and immediately continue on their way.

Closing their eyes, they felt a lump in their throat begin to form. Their limbs seemed softer and softer, as they were losing control over them slightly more every second. Just a little more, and their feet will fail to keep them standing.

The drowsiness increased, and something was pounding in their temples. Something that was begging them to shake that feeling away, but Hero’s growing dizziness prevented them from that .

“What's the matter? Feeling strange?” Villain's voice appearing out of nowhere, didn’t cause any reaction at all. The hero couldn't even bring themselves to look in the villain’s direction. But despite this, they could feel the smirk on Villain's lips, guessing that by the tone of their voice.

The tips of the villain's nails slowly slid along the skin on Hero's neck, giving them something remotely resembling relief, but at the same time somehow making their current state much worse.

Such a cold Villain’s hand against their skin relieved the heat rushing to their face. Hero was craving more of the pleasant coldness, but their mind was still too clear to fall for that.

“Don't touch me.” Hero muttered, stepping away and turning to face their enemy. The shortness of breath from running should have passed long ago, but their breathing was becoming even more frequent, as if the air temperature instantly increased.

“But you want it, don't you?” The villain assumed, but the tone of their voice sounded more like a statement. “Soon you'll start asking me for it.”

“What made you think so?” On the inside the hero knew that they felt indignation, but outwardly the muscles of their face were too heavy to portray any expression.

“Glad you asked.” Villain slowly raised their hand, showing a device with an automatic sprayer on their wrist. “You may not have noticed, but I've had this thing the last few days that we've been fighting.” They took a step forward, and the hero was too weak to step back. “This is a little invention of mine. It spreads a chemical reacting with your superpower.”

Hero gulped hard, wanting to punch, but Villain immediately caught their fist, slowly lowering it down. “The result took a bit of time, but it turned out better than I expected.”

The hero felt how everything around them gradually began to change its color, acquiring different shades and simultaneously losing them all at once. The heat and weakness in their body relieved them of all sorts of thoughts, and they could hardly keep their eyes open.

Hero's face seemed too calm and peaceful, despite the whole range of sensations that were going on inside then. Their internal organs were ready to turn out, but the warmth of Villain’s hand touch suddenly made it all stop.

The villain gently stroked Hero's cheek, slowly going lower in one continuous movement. The hero wanted to pull away, but Villain stopped them by squeezing their shoulder slightly.

“Don't resist.” Lightly pressing on Hero's shoulder, they forced them to their knees, sinking down right after Hero. Villain looked at them with pure pleasure at the result of their invention. “Relax. Where we're going, you won't have to think about anything.”

The trembling in their limbs became stronger; the warmth spreading through their body filled their mind more and more, blurring the boundary between the effect of the drug and reality.

Hero had never felt so calm in someone else’s presence. One touch of the villain's hand made them forget their nausea and dizziness, forcing Hero to close their eyes tiredly and finally drown in the darkness.

#yay my first request #thank you so much #i really like this trope #writeblr #writing #writing prompt #request #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero x villain #villain x hero #hero/villain #villain/hero #sidekick

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winged-fool · 2 years ago

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Requesting one of your patented, salty episode summaries please??

I gotchu babes! I will say though that I paid pretty low attention to it so it's not going to be as good/detailed as usual...

Okay so Bonnie and Dallas reunite in the cosmic quicksand pretty quickly. They go around looking for things that Theo left behind for Dallas to find - but don't address the vision that Dallas saw of Theo when he first dropped into the quicksand?? I honestly thought we were going to see everyone kind of going on their own adventures in the quicksand and Dallas's would be led by Theo but alas, that would have been TOO interesting.

Max and Liz are at odds as usual, she's being very rude and snappy with him and he's just like uh okay? And she's like I'm going to figure this out for our friends! Then goes to Shivan's lab and works with her to figure out how to revive shit so she can bring Shivani's daughter back to life which...doesn't help the people they love at all? So idk what the fuck she was talking about.

Kyle is back! He and Isobel kind of have an awkward greeting then she's like hey we can hug right? And he's like oh yeah definitely! And then they hug and it's nice. They, Michael, and Max talk about stuff and what Kyle has been up to and he brings out this weird box thing and then he and Michael whisk away to the Guerin Grotto.

There's some sort of symbol on the box that either meant open or death and Michael is like eh close enough let's go use it on the quicksand to try to save them! I forgot what happens but Michael starts spiraling that everything is hopeless and Kyle is like HEY! Listen I just reached out to this girl I love and she didn't reach back but Alex is in some parallel universe and he's reaching out to you and clearly loves you so maybe have a little faith? And if you don't, then I'll have faith for you! So basically he was like, I'm the captain of this ship now.

Something happens (I already forgot what) and it opens up and part of the console comes out and it starts reacting to something. Turns out, during Dallas and Bonnie's jaunting around in the cosmic quicksand, they found a similar box and opened it up and like an alternate universe version of the console came out too and they started messing with it which caused its partner to react.

Maria and Rosa do some shit who cares and Maria ends up at this weird half-circle metal thing and calls Michael over there. They place the console in it and somehow everyone in Roswell knows Morse code and Michael and Dallas can communicate with each other via the console with it. It opens a portal connecting the two universes and Michael was like fuck it, I'm going in, I'm saving Alex and Dallas and Bonnie decide to stay too to help him. The portal was unstable I guess and then immediately closed.

Back to Liz's plot in this ep, she continues being a dick and getting high off the alien mist and then Rosa is like hey I think you might be addicted and she was like haha once an addict always projecting so why don't you lay off? It was really mean. She resurrects a frog for a split second, it dies, Max comes by to tell her off or tries to reason with her or something, it kind of seems like they break up, he leaves then she tells Shivani they're not on the same team anymore because they want different things.

Some nonsense happens with Isobel and Tezca throughout where they're trying to recover her memories but honestly, I definitely checked out during all of their scenes. Oh but at the end of the episode, she was at the Pony (I think) and staring at a picture of Kyle on her phone which was sweet. Max and Rosa show up and are like something's up with Liz we need to save her and Max is like you need to help me get my powers back.

I'm sure I could think of something nice to say about this episode...if I try really, really hard. It was an episode and we're one close to the end.

#my asks #anon ask #rnm s4 #rnm spoilers #my shitty rnm recaps

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fistsoflightning · 2 years ago

Text

wherever the wind blows

ffxivwrite2022 30: sojourn n. a temporary stay.

zaya & thancred. sometime nebulously post-6.0. 1237 wc.

To Zaya’s knowledge, the Quicksand had never seen a slow day or night since Momodi stepped up behind the bar, but tonight in particular seemed especially busy. If the two of them hadn’t known the proprietor personally, there wouldn’t have been seats open at the bar, thanks to all the new adventuring hopefuls coming to Ul’dah in part thanks to the Rising; Momodi had called over one of her waitresses when she saw them walk through the doors, Thancred on their heels, and had her save one of the tables being cleared while she beckoned them over for a bit of conversation. She didn’t even bat an eye at the bluebird taking a seat of her own in the ceiling fountain’s greenery, diving in just before the doors closed behind them.

Of course it was to bend their ears—or horns, which made little sense physically speaking but Zaya wasn’t versed enough in Eorzean phrases to bother with finding one that made more sense. A few tales about saving the star (and one attempt at wrangling any ‘romantic developments’ from them) was well worth the table near the central fountain, at least in their opinion. Thancred seemed less appreciative of the near-interrogation, but not enough to say it to Momodi’s face, or to them as she shooed them away to their table with a small platter and a leveplate.

“Looks fairly interesting,” Thancred said, reading the details as Zaya took the plate of various breads, meats, cheeses, and spreads out of his other hand and set it on the table. “Any adventurer’s bread and butter—investigating ‘strange phenomena in a recently unearthed ruins out in Western Thanalan’, with payment to follow the clearing of said phenomena along with some of the treasure found within.”

Zaya smiled wistfully as they popped a cracker into their mouth, if a bit confused. It did sound like something they would have done as a job, before Minfilia managed to rope them into the Scions proper; delving into ruins to clear the way for some manner of archaeologist, researcher, or gil-grubbing merchant willing to pay a fortune to have first choice of some age-old relics, diving headfirst into danger only because it would mean exploring somewhere brilliantly new without regard for safety.

What it didn’t explain was why Momodi had handed it to the two of them personally, rather than let the levemete handle seeking the talent required to fulfill the request.

“Voidsent?” they asked.

It was a reasonable guess. Momodi never liked giving any new adventurers the chance to take a job involving voidsent, despite Thanalan being home to plenty; it had something to do with a voidsent hierarchy and the upper rung demons showing up more frequently after the Calamity disrupted all of Eorzea’s aetherial currents. Zaya had never bothered to learn more about it, since few of the voidsent could match up to the wildlife of the Steppe anyways—now, though, they were realizing maybe they should have sat down for a lesson or two while they were in Sharlayan.

Thancred shrugged, sitting down across from them and setting the leveplate on the table. “Could be,” he said, taking a slice of bread and dipping it in a bowl of oil. “The description of their phenomena is horribly vague, given the format of the standard leveplate. I do hope whatever troublemaker’s causing our friend Painted Dawn isn’t too much of a bother, voidsent or not—between the two of us, I wouldn’t exactly say we’re in top form.”

That was exaggerating it, really, especially since he came back from Ultima Thule with little injury, and if Thancred wanted to keep them bedridden a little longer there were plenty of better excuses for him to use. Zaya nudged his shin under the table with the toe of their boot, sinking down in their chair to reach.

“I know, I know, Krile said you were as well as you were going to get before we left,” he conceded, taking a small bite of his bread before continuing, “and your legs seem to be working fine, but I think I’m owed a fair bit of time fretting over your wellbeing. Seeing you laid out more than once hasn’t made the sight any easier on me.”

Zaya relented after that, because it seemed cruel to playfully harass him for being worried like any normal person might be; any other adventurer would have keeled over if they had been through half the things Zaya put themselves through in the name of saving something that wasn’t their own life. Even traveling across the rift to another shard nearly lost to calamity would have driven a veteran at the trade to retire, probably. They reached across to brush their fingers against the bare knuckles of his idle hand in apology, his gloves draped over the edge of the table; the Quicksand was too loud and too crowded for them to want to try to say it verbally, to make sure he knew they meant it, but Thancred smiled regardless and twined his fingers in theirs.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not used to it, bluebird.” He squeezed their hand lightly before letting go, eyes shifting to some of the crowd around them; his eyes, though, didn’t falter or darken when his attention was drawn back to them, still brightly shifting between hazel and gold in the Quicksand’s evening lights. “Instead of going in recklessly as you’d like, I was thinking we spend tonight comfortably in bed, and then tomorrow morning we double back to the Waking Sands and request Urianger’s expertise before we go ruin diving, to ensure we both come out unscathed,” he said, his smile turning a bit sheepish between bites of his bread. “Afraid it’s not quite as romantic as going with just the two of us, but…”

Zaya snorted, kicking the closest leg of his chair lightly as they chewed on another cracker. “You said adventuring is bad as a date,” they said, letting their hands be a bit loose with the signs.

“It is, if the other person spends the entire time terrified,” Thancred countered, no heat behind his words. “Which is not something that applies to you, as I’ve clearly learned. You’d hate me if I took you to plays and dinners or some such establishment where you stay seated the entire time.”

Hate was ill-fitting, Zaya thought, nose scrunching up as they considered it. It would take something truly terrible for them to hate him, if his demeanor when they first arrived in Norvrandt hadn’t done the trick—being upset, though, sounded more along the lines of how’d they react to one of those stuffy Ul’dahn theatres. “Thank you for not doing that,” Zaya signed languidly. “I love you.”

Thancred laughed quietly, drowned out by the noise around them. “I would hope I know you well enough not to drag you places you’d hate, because I love you too,” he replied, his voice a lovely low sound they could hear thanks to him leaning slightly over the table. “Now, not to ruin the mood, but do you mind helping me finish this platter so we can retire to the Hourglass? I’m sure our night would be much nicer without any stray eyes on us.”

They smiled as angelically as they could, and then plucked Thancred’s half-eaten slice of bread out of his hand, dipping it in the softened butter before shoving it indelicately into their mouth.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #thancred waters #wolcred #c: zaya qestir #s: bound by faith #elie's ffxivwrite2022 #tales from the blue #hehe zayacred to finish off this year #i tried to do my yearly jacke/tehra'ir but great googly moogly i could not do thieves' cant tonight ;w;#elie writes

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cutelittlevamp · 4 years ago

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Could you do some MHA characters with a s/o that is just so calm and unimpressed with everything? Like they can literally be in the middle I'm drowning in quicksand and they'll be worried if they left the stove on 😂

Heyyy^^

Gotta say, you're request made my day when I first read it xD sadly I couldn't work on it sooner

Hope you like it a little

I couldn't decide on characters at first, so in the end I just went with the older ones :) hope that's okay

have a nice day and stay healthy^^

_____________________________________________________________

Aizawa:

He’s a teacher and can be quite patient, but everyone's patience runs thin sooner or later

It annoys him. Do you have such a short attention span? Is it that? Or do you really don’t give a single sh*t about anything that goes on around you?

He can’t figure it out and that really bugs him

That one time he caught you with his scarf and you were unable to move and dangling from the ceiling? Finally he could be sure that you couldn’t run out of a conversation and you just -

‘Did I lock my car? I’m not sure anymore …’

Make a damn list!

Dabi:

Now he’s tricky. He’d either see it as a competition or lose interest entirely.

Where’s the fun if you don’t react no matter what happens? Well, you do react just not the way he wants you to

What does he care if you still have to water the flowers? Just let them die! Wondering if you let the stove on? No problem at all. He’ll simply burn down your house then you won’t have to worry about sh*t like that again

Honestly, if you don’t start reacting to something instead of simply staying calm he might just drop you like a very hot potato.

Or maybe he might just give you a good reason to scream. Let’s see if you are still calm when he’s branding your back ...

Hawks:

It was actually what made him notice you at first. Everyone went mad if they saw Hero Nr. 2, but you? Much too occupied with your food

He’d see it as a kind of competition

When you’re reading? Watching a movie? He is so much more interesting than those, he just had to show you!

Once he can finally get you into a conversation you’ll know just how much- Wait! Do you see that cute puppy over there?

Just watch out. If you drive him too mad he’ll definitely find a solution for it.

That solution might endanger you for a short while or go against the law, but ...

… then you’ll focus on him, right? Dream on, Hawks

Overhaul:

He thought you’d be scared - maybe screaming or crying - but you weren’t

You sat there on the chair, hands tied behind your back, and looked at him but you weren’t really looking at him

Then you suddenly asked if someone knew if it would rain today. Why? Simple. You think you left the laundry outside

Maybe he’d be confused at first but he'd definitely like that way better than crying and begging. Crying mostly included a running nose - the thought alone was gross - and begging was simply pathetic

Actually it could just be that your calm demeanor keeps you alive in this case

Not sure if that’s really better but hey, there are definitely worse things than being stuck in an underground prison right? Just imagine that you may have eaten the last cookie and forgot to buy new ones! Not that Kai would let you eat cookies, of course

#bnha headcanons #bnha overhaul #bnha hawks #bnha aizawa #bnha dabi #request #acethecardsblog #x reader #honestly imaging this was hilarious #Kai won't let you eat your cookies #readers attention is just- wait! Do you see that?

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aliendes · 4 years ago

Text

Natural Borns - Chapter Nine

Banner by @thebannershop

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, smut (NSFW)

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: cursing, vivid depiction of a panic attack do not read if this makes you uncomfortable, crying, blood, shitty medical descriptions (probably), depression, cursing, anxiety, forced medical practices? Restraints, mentions of unwanted sexual acts? I suppose just sadness, man. The next chapter is going to get pretty dark, and this one leads up to that, so beware.

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 7.1k~

A/N: Surprise!! Hi, I know this is early, but I had a productive week and felt inspired. I am so excited for like two chapters down the line, because there is a really sweet scene, that I can’t wait for you guys to read. Thank you for all the love, it means so much. Please like, reblog, comment so more people can see this series! I absolutely LOVE hearing from the readers of this series, and it is my favorite time of the week interacting with you, so please send me all the asks you want, I’m happy to answer questions about characters! You might learn a thing or two if you read those asks I answer ;) ALSO: I’m less than 50 followers away from 1,000... which is... insane. I’m going to do a drabble/ask maybe request thing once I reach 1,000 so stay tuned!

Jungkook’s eyes were panicked and Jin’s heart cracked at the sight, not remembering a time when Jungkook had been so passionate about something, the weight of his words settling in his own chest, “They took her.”

It’s dark and cold. Your eyelids are so heavy you don’t think you could open them if you tried. Your throat feels like the Sahara desert with how dry and scratchy it is, and your muscles feel like you attempted to run a marathon without stretching whatsoever. To put it simply, you feel like shit. But why?

The last thing you remember was sitting with Jungkook next to the small stream you found in the middle of the forest. Sharing your first kiss with him. The thought makes you smile mentally, taking your thoughts away from the searing pain you feel throughout your body. You’re not sure if you’re even awake right now, you can’t move any part of your body, nor can you open your eyelids. Were you in some sort of coma? No, there’s no way.

Did you fall asleep? That must be the case, right? Maybe you were so dehydrated and exhausted you passed out. Jungkook would take care of you, though, so you shouldn’t worry. But then again, why do you feel like you’ve been hit by eight trucks and thrown off an overpass?

Your body feels like lead, it’s so heavy, and you almost feel like you’re sinking. Your body is floating, you feel no hard surface beneath you, like you might if you were laying on the ground, but at the same time it’s like you're slowly falling through quicksand. It’s like you’re weightless, but entirely too heavy all at once. Nothing is really making sense to you right now, all you know is that you’re in pain, and you really, really want to wake up and ask Jungkook what’s going on. Is he okay? Are you okay? Your brain calls out to him, but nothing happens.

Your thoughts are cut short by a sudden sharp, shooting pain in your right arm. At least, you think it’s your right arm. You can’t be entirely sure, because it feels like your limbs aren’t quite attached to your body. You’re panicking, the pain is seeping through your veins, traveling to the rest of your floating limbs, connecting all your body parts together through a burning sensation that is one of the most unpleasant feelings you’ve ever experienced. You want to scream bloody murder, you want to open your eyes, you want to figure out what’s happening to you, but you can’t. You’re stuck in this dark abyss, unable to locate your mind or your body, unable to piece them together to become one being again.

The pain is duplicated on your left side now, the same acid like burning sensation traveling up the left side of your body. You’re starting to feel whole again, but at what cost? Your arms feel like jelly, yet you still can’t move them. They’re burning, like fire, it hurts so bad. If you could, you’d be crying out for help. For Jungkook. For Jin, for anyone to help you. You need help! Your brain is screaming out to anyone, but no one can hear you. You can’t even hear you, you can’t hear anything. You don’t even know if there is anyone around. Did Jungkook leave you? What did you do to deserve this kind of torture? For the first time in a couple of days, you think about Mina and Woo, how they would help you if they were here. You want your friends, Seokjin, Namjoon, anyone. Please…

Jungkook walked close by Jin, never straying from his side, clutching onto his hand tightly, as the seven of them traversed the forest. He hadn’t fully stopped crying since he woke up, tears blurring his vision as they travelled, thoughts of you swirling through his mind. All he could think about was you, the kiss you shared, the way you made him feel. He felt responsible for you, he was the reason you got separated from Jin in the first place, right? He took off without making sure the elder was with you. If he had just stayed, or maybe charged his stupid phone so Yoongi was able to track you, maybe you’d still be with him. There were so many things he could’ve done differently. I feel safe with you. Those words engulfed his mind. He didn’t deserve your trust, he let you down, and he would never forgive himself for it. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this low before, ever felt such a horrible pain of losing someone. He never knew his parents, never really had anyone besides Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, and Tae, so to finally have that with you, and to have it all ripped away in a few short days, was excruciating to him.

Once they realized they lost you, Namjoon urged them to push on, to make it to the outskirts of Seoul where they could come up with a plan. They hoped they still had Yeonjun on the inside, but they couldn’t be sure until Yoongi could get to a secure location to try and contact him. For all they knew, he could’ve given them away on purpose, though Namjoon liked to find the best in people, so he wasn’t completely sold on that idea. He was trying to keep a strong frame of mind for his group, he needed to be their pillar of support right now, make sure they were safe. But he was conflicted. Shouldn’t he have kept you safe, too? They accepted you as one of their own, told you that you could trust them, and now they’ve lost you. Namjoon felt horrible, like he should’ve been able to stop this, even though the logical side of his brain told him it was no one’s fault, really, except Big Hit’s. They were the only ones to blame in all of the unfortunate situations all of them have gone through.

While Jimin and Taehyung had yet to meet you, they could sense the pain the others were feeling. Even Hoseok’s demeanor had changed, and he barely knew you. He knew the people he loved most, loved you, he could feel it, and the fact that they were feeling pain, was bringing him down as well. Jungkook and Jin were enraptured by you, so there must be something special about you. What little time he spent with you told him that much. Would he ever get a chance to get to know you better? He hoped so. Even for the boys who weren’t close to you, they all understood the pain that you were probably in right now, and understood what you were about to be put through. Especially Taehyung. He just got back from the torturous experiments and shitty conditions they kept him in, and he hoped he would never have to return to them. The fact that you were experiencing the same, or similar things to what he had just gone through, was heartbreaking to him.

Once they were reunited, Taehyung clung to Hoseok and Jimin, looking to them for guidance and support, unsure of his feelings. He was so happy to be free of that place, but at what cost? Now they have you, an even rarer DNA makeup, he couldn’t imagine the things they would do to you. Sure, he didn’t know you, but he was an empath by nature, and was already feeling guilty over essentially switching places with you. His freedom for yours. It didn’t sit right with him, and so he was starting to slip, following Hoseok around like a lost puppy, a glazed look in his eyes.

Yoongi was trying to stay focused on getting to another safe house, or somewhere he would be able to potentially help you. He can’t believe the way he’s treated you since you’ve come to stay with them, and he’s been beating himself up about it since you all left the warehouse last night. He made you cry, he hurt you. You probably hated him, or at least thought he was cold, cruel even. He didn’t want you to remember him like that. Despite his often icy exterior, he didn’t like when people viewed him as cold-hearted, and he was pretty sure that’s how you saw him. He wanted to make sure he had the chance to redeem himself, to get to know you, actually know you. He was determined to get you back.

But no one was more determined, more distraught with your disappearance, than Seokjin. Not only had he spent the most time with you, and gotten to know you the best, but it was so much more than that. He could feel himself falling for you, for your shy exterior, but your deep faceted personality, your stunning features, and that adorable pout you wore when he was tending to your injuries. He was falling for you, much like he fell for the others. Maybe even harder, and he was not prepared to lose you without a fight. Aside from his strong feelings for you, he could see that Jungkook, his other half, was in just as deep, and that cut him to the core. They could have had something so special with you, with the others, that they haven’t experienced before, and you were ripped away from them. Just when he could tell Jungkook was starting to open up and blossom into the person he always hoped he’d become, you vanish into thin air. That hurt more than anything, the what if. What would happen if you were still here? Would your relationship bloom into something beautiful? Even if they get you back, which they will, Jin tells himself, you won't be the same. They all know what happens in that lab, and they couldn’t even begin to imagine how much worse it will be for you, their first female. Jin shudders at the thought, catching the attention of his companion who is clinging to the back of his t-shirt.

Jungkook looks up at his elder with wide doe eyes, still glassy from earlier events. When Jin looked down at him, the dam that he had been holding together with a string, burst. He stopped in his tracks, making Jungkook stop as well, looking panicked as he reached out to wrap his arms around Jin. They stood in the middle of the forest, clinging to each other tightly, silently mourning the loss of what could have been.

The others slowly started to realize what was happening, one by one, and all started to gather around Jungkook and Jin, no words spoken, emotions telling their story. First was Hoseok, placing a comforting hand on Jungkook’s back, and leaning his forehead against his shoulder. Next, was Jimin and Taehyung, each wrapping an arm around their maknae to support him as he sobbed. Then, Namjoon approached the eldest, wrapping him up in a tight back hug, placing gentle kisses against the back of his exposed neck. Last was Yoongi, he was hesitant to offer his comfort, because he didn’t feel like he deserved to comfort them, didn’t feel like he deserved any place in this with how awful he had been to you. But grief at watching his love's hearts break, eventually pushed him to move, reaching up to wipe Jin’s tears away gently, as his own started to fall.

You blinked your eyes slowly, once. Twice. Three times. You felt the haze of the Sandman try to pull you under once more, but resisted with all your might. Even though you had no grasp on how long you’ve actually been asleep, your aching body told you it’s been too long.

You let your eyes slip shut again, the appeal of unconsciousness dangling just within grasp. You almost let it take over you, but you persist, opening your eyes one more time, blinking tightly to try and remove any leftover sleep from them. When you finally manage to peel back your eyelids, all you see is white.

Furrowing your brow, you try and turn your head to your right, but your neck feels like you haven’t moved in it decades, cracking under the pressure of movement. You let out a soft whimper from the back of your throat at the pain, but it sounds more like a growl with how low and gravely your voice is. You don’t even recognize it to be you for a moment, still uncharacteristically sleepy.

When you finally manage to twist your head to the side, you’re just met with more white, and more confusion. You’re in what looks like a small doctor’s exam room, like the ones you would go to at your pediatrician’s office when you were a kid. Only this one was completely void of any color or those posters that tell you about puberty.

White walls, white tile floors, white ceiling, a white table and chair in the far corner, and a white door. No windows, no sink like you’d usually find in a doctor’s office. The room closer resembled a holding cell at a prison than anything else. You try to sit up, but your muscles resist, instead shooting a searing pain from your shoulder down to your lower back, making you yelp in surprise.

The pain made you feel more awake than you have since you opened your eyes, and for the first time, you really take in your surroundings, realization hits you. Where is Jungkook? Jin? Anyone? You sit up, ignoring the cracking of your bones, biting back the scream that wants to escape your throat at the feeling. You wince, trying to bring your hand up to rub at your face in any attempt to wake yourself up, you must be dreaming right? Only your wrist is snapped back to the bed, a loud metal clanking sound echoing off the walls. Your head snaps down, eyes widening at the sight of a leather cuff strapped to your wrist, connected by a chain to what you can assume is the slats of the metal bed frame you’re currently laying on.

Looking over at your other wrist, you notice it is restrained in a similar way. Panic is starting to set in, your mouth slightly agape in fear, eyes comically wide as you frantically search for a way out of here. Your breathing is labored, you can feel that black shadow of anxiety creeping up your spine, bleeding into your throat and traveling into your nose, making it hard to take a deep breath. You’re suffocating, pulling at your restraints, you can’t inhale at all, it’s like someone is holding a pillow over your face.

“H-help!” You try and scream, but it only comes out as a garbled cry with how little air you have in your lungs. Tears are streaming down your face as you start to thrash in the bed. This can’t be happening. They got you, they took you. Did they get Jungkook, too? What about the others? The thought is enough to send you into another spiral of panic, neck straining with the need to escape. They can’t be here, you led them away, right? But, that means they probably took Jungkook, too. Or worse.

Your chest is heaving, soft whimpers escaping your throat as you attempt to take in any air your body will allow, when the white door to your room is thrown open, bouncing off the wall adjacent to it. The panic doesn’t stop, however, when you see who walks through the door. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, willing away whatever demons were bringing you this wretched dream. This can’t be real, you reason with yourself, it’s just a horrible nightmare.

“Pearl?!” Your father shouts, coming into the small room, another, shorter man, in a white lab coat following in behind him. You barely have any time to take a look at the other person in the room, as he preps a syringe, filled with an unknown substance that only makes your fear suffocate you further. “Pearl! Can you hear me, Pearl? It’s me, it’s dad!” Your father is kneeling next to your bed now, as the strange man approaches you, needle in hand.

“N-no!” Your high pitch scream startles both men, piercing their ears as you let out a wail when the man approaches you, stabbing the needle into your bare thigh. “N-no -n-no!” your voice wavers, stuttering to a complete silence, as your body falls back against the cardboard-esque mattress. Your breathing is evening out, eyes half-lidded as your brain feels like it’s floating. You aren’t asleep, no, just floating, peaceful even.

“Is she out?” you faintly hear your father ask.

“No, sir,” another voice sounds off, “it’s just a sedative. It’ll wear off in about an hour, but I don’t expect her to be in much better condition by then.”

You can hear them, though it kind of sounds like they’re underwater. Focus, YN, you tell yourself. Listen to what they’re saying. In your dazed state, you can’t really remember why exactly you should be listening, just that you should be listening.

“Are you going to keep her here?” You could hear your father ask, his voice sounded… strained? Your hazy mind was confused by the pained tone of his voice.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” the second voice sounded professional, yet there was a hint of regret to his tone, “that was part of the deal.”

Deal. What deal? Your foggy mind tried to hold on to that piece of information, but you were in and out of consciousness, your body felt like it was floating. The next time you regained consciousness and were able to decipher the voices again, you only heard one.

“Yeah, she’s here,” it was the second voice, the one you hadn’t recognized before, “no, I don’t.”

It sounded like he was speaking to someone, but you didn’t hear a second person anymore. You definitely didn’t hear your father.

“Look, I don’t have much time. They suspect me, but they haven’t done anything yet, though I’m expecting it soon. Yeah. I’ll try.”

You loll your head to the side, unable to do much to hold it up. You felt heavier than you did when you woke up the last time, but you were able to open your eyes slightly to catch a yellow haired man talking into a phone. “You really need to get here soon,” his back was to you, but you could hear the urgency in his voice. He lowered his voice when he spoke his next words, “They’re getting ready to run tests, you know how-” he cuts off abruptly, pausing for a second, “I can’t Namjoon.”

Namjoon? Your brain was feeling more alert at the mention of his name. Faintly, you could hear the yelling of another voice coming through the phone speaker. Was that really Namjoon? You were about to use all your strength to sit up and ask the young man, when the door slammed open again, another man in a white coat entering the room. The yellow haired guy immediately shoved his phone into his pocket, turning around, wide eyed.

“Yeonjun,” the second man addressed the yellow haired one, he sounded a bit surprised, “Soomin has been looking for you.” Yeonjun, you supposed, bowed slightly, walking out of the room quickly, but not before he sent you a worried look from behind the second man’s back.

You still couldn’t move much, bones and muscles feeling like gelatin, but when the man in the white lab coat approached you, you tried to sit up and scoot away from him. It didn’t take a genius to realize exactly where you were, now that your state of mind was a little clearer. The fact that your father was here, and seemed to know exactly why you were here, only confirmed what Namjoon told you a couple nights ago. It must be the drugs doing their job, because you weren’t feeling the panic and anxiety that was suffocating you earlier. You felt a little more clarity about where you were and what was happening to you, even though you were no less scared.

As you tried to back up against the wall, your right wrist tugged on the chain, preventing you from moving any further. The man didn’t care, though, as he continued to close in on you, eventually settling for sitting on the end of your bed. He was way too close to you for you to feel comfortable at all. You pulled your knees to your chest with all the strength you had left in you, even though you couldn’t hug them like you wanted too, you tried to make yourself as small as possible.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you know where you are?” The man asked, his voice low and placating. You didn’t trust him, something felt off about him. You squint your eyes at him slightly, shaking your head. He takes a deep breath, crossing one leg over the other. “You’re at a testing facility for natural borns,” he begins with a smile, one that you can see right through, “we brought you here because your family sold your rights to your DNA. I’m sorry to break the news to you like this, but it will help you cope in the long run. I know it’s a lot to handle, and so we have therapists on staff to work with you-”

“I don’t believe you.” Your voice is so rough you hardly recognize it. You give one of your chains a quick tug to prove your point. You don’t miss the way his eyes flash with anger, only momentarily, before he steels his features, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Ah, yes,” he sighed, rubbing his chin with his hand, “the restraints were for our safety. We didn’t know how you would react once you were awake, but I promise we aren’t always like this, in fact, it’s actually pretty nice here once we get you set up in your own room.” The smile he wore was disgustingly fake, it was unnerving. Everything about him was unnerving. He must be a designer baby, one that borderlines the uncanny valley. He starts to reach his hand out to touch you, a creepy smile on his face that makes you want to scream, instead you shake your head quickly, making it known you don’t want him to touch you. He doesn’t care, though, instead his hand continues it’s path until it’s resting awkwardly on your ankle. It’s almost like he wasn’t human, but was trying to mimic the action of comfort that humans normally do.

“Why am I here?” You ask quickly, your voice squeaky as you pull your foot from his grasp, eyes wide as you stare at him.

“I told you, Miss Y/L/N,” he sighs again, like he was annoyed by your questioning, and pulls his hand back to his lap, “your family sold-”

“Why. Am I here.” You gritted your teeth, willing the tears threatening to break the dam, away.

“Miss Y/L/N,” his voice was suddenly more stern than before, turning in his seat to face you head on, “it’s better if you don’t ask questions. Things will be easier here for you if you accept it.” His words scared you more than he himself did, accept it? That’s what it came down to, right? You’re stuck here. You had no idea if you’d ever escape like the twins did, had no idea if the others even cared to get you back.

You shook your head back and forth, dislodging some of you unshed tears, biting at your lips hard enough to draw blood. If you were stuck here, you at least needed one question answered. “Where is Jungkook?”

The man scoffed at your question, making your tears fall harder, “That boy? They left him in the forest. He’s no use for us here. Now, I have some things to go over with you.”

You sniffled hard, trying to stop the tears from flowing, as your focus wavered, not really listening to anything else he had to say. At least Jungkook wasn’t here, at least he had a chance of escaping. You could only hope that the others found him and he was able to get back to them. You didn’t know them very long, they would forget you soon enough. That was what you were going to hold on to if you had to be here. At least it wasn’t him.

“Are you listening?” The man asked, more aggressive than before. Your head snapped up, tears still falling, as you looked him in the eye again. He lets out another sigh, standing up from the bed, “You’re going to be administered medication three times a day. You already had your first dose this morning when you were brought in, and someone will be by shortly to give you your second. It’s very important that you eat the food they give you with it, otherwise your body won't be healthy enough for testing. You’re very valuable to us here, so if you don’t take care of your body, someone else will, and I’m sure you don’t want that.” He gives you one last fake smile before turning and heading for the door. You watch him with a furrowed brow, tears flowing like a river down your face. He turns around, hand on the doorknob, “And YN, dear? Welcome to Big Hit.”

You’re not sure how long you were left alone in that insanity inducing white room before someone came back, you were too lost in your own thoughts, unable to self-soothe, due to your hands being chained to the bed. You sat as close to the wall as you could get, knees pulled to your chest as you sobbed into your knees. By the time you heard the door creak open, you were nearly out of tears, devoid of any emotion, other than hopelessness, maybe.

“YN?” A woman’s voice called out. It sounded sweet, but you knew better. You didn’t lift your head, didn’t acknowledge her at all. She huffed a little when you didn’t respond, walking into the room and closing and locking the door after her.

“YN, dear,” she said again, wheeling over a metal cart to your bedside, “you need to eat something.” She set a tray of something down on the small desk in the room, but you didn’t bother to look at it. You could smell it from here, and it didn’t smell appetizing.

When the woman realized you weren’t going to speak, she came over and sat on the edge of your bed, as far away from you as possible, as if she was afraid of you. Like I could do anything, you scoffed, mentally.

“YN, I know you’re upset,” she sighed, “but if you don’t eat, dear, they’re going to force feed you, or worse, run a tube through your nose.” You perked up at this knowledge, head tilting to the side slightly, but still not looking at her. “I’ve seen them do it plenty of times to patients. You need to be healthy, darling.” She sounded kind, older, wiser than you. But you didn’t care. Why would you care if you were healthy? For all you knew, you could die in here. Then what was the point of eating at all? Maybe it would be better if you starved yourself to death instead of whatever horrors they were going to put you through.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” You surprised both the nurse and yourself when you spoke, your mouth betraying your brain. Your voice was even scratchier than before, and you sighed at the sound.

“Didn’t Dongin tell you, darling?” Dongin, that must have been the white lab coated man from earlier. Did he tell you? You honestly couldn’t remember. You spaced out halfway through what he was saying, thoughts only on Jungkook. You decide that no, he didn’t, and you tell the nurse as much. “YN, you’re here for donations. I would’ve thought your father told you that long ago?” She sounded puzzled, like she didn’t really even know what was going on here.

You looked up at her for the first time since she walked in, shocking her with the dead look in your eyes. You decided to play her to your advantage, maybe she really didn’t know what was going on.

“Tell me what?” You asked,as innocently as you could muster.

The woman furrowed her brows at your, reaching out a hand to place on your leg. You flinch away from her, making her pull back instantly. Maybe she was kinder than the rest. No, you can’t let yourself believe that. “Darling, you were born here. The company was taking back what was theirs in the first place. Not that I agree with that, or anything, but you know how these big pharmaceutical companies work. All about their money.” She rambled on, her tone almost disbelieving that you didn’t already know the things she was telling you, but you didn’t feel like you had any answers to your questions. You only had more questions. Taking back what’s theirs?

“What do you mean, ‘what was theirs’?” You straighten your legs out a bit, knees popping and cracking as you do. You bring your hands as far into your lap as you can without straining them against the cuffs.

The nurse was looking even more confused than you felt, pinching her brows together tightly and pursing her lips. “I - I don’t think I should be telling-”

“Soomin!” A man, the yellow haired one from earlier, bursts through the door, cutting the woman off and making her jump at least a foot in the air in shock. Turning around quickly, Soomin stands and bows to the man before scurrying out of the room, bowing one last time for good measure, before she’s gone. The young man runs his hand through his hair, huffing a breath of air as he closes the door behind him.

“YN-” he rushes over, dropping to his knees in front of you, frightening you into backing up as much as you could again, on the defense, “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise. At least not on purpose.” He was talking so quickly you could barely keep up, “My name is Yeonjun, and I work with Namjoon and Yoongi for an organization that helps natural borns. I’m the one who helped Jimin and Tae escape yesterday, and I think the company is starting to catch onto me.” He takes a deep breath, looking over his shoulder quickly and then back at you, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

You nod, slowly, still not exactly following the frantic man.

“That nurse is going to come in here in about fifteen minutes to administer hormones to you,” you furrow your brow at this new information. Yeonjun must sense your confusion, because he quickly explains, “They’re trying to harvest your eggs, YN. They’re trying to use your DNA for new experimental designer babies,” he shakes his head, a look of disgust written on his face, “it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that you take the hormones, and you eat. I know, I know you don’t want to, and I’m not going to lie to you, it’s going to hurt.” You wince at his words, and he softens his gaze, pursing his lips, “I’m sorry YN, but the only way I’m going to be able to get you out of here, is if you play along. They have to believe that you’re complacent before they’ll move you to a less secure area of the building. I don’t know how long it’ll take for them to move you, so I need you to play along to speed up the process, but I will do my best to deter them from… experimenting on you, for now.”

Yeonjun looks uncomfortable as both his hands grip the side of the mattress. “E-experiment?” You aren’t sure you want to know what he meant by it, but you’re sure you’ll regret it if you don’t.

He sighs, looking sideways for a second, not wanting to look you in the eye. “It takes a long time to successfully create an embryo in a lab…” he trails off, still looking anywhere but your face, “it’s relatively… quick, in a human body.” He coughs, clearing his throat as he looks back up at your mortified face.

The weight of where you are and what is going to happen to you here, suddenly hits you. It’s like a giant wave, crashing on top of you, pulling you under water, trapping you on the ocean floor. Your throat felt like it was closing again.

“YN, look at me,” Yeonjun begged, and you obeyed, trusting this man before you, “I’m going to do everything I possibly can to keep that from happening, but you have to comply with them, or it’s going to make it harder for me to do that. Okay? Do you understand?” You were breathing heavily, eyes blinking rapidly, but you nodded your head at him, gulping as you did.

“B-but, why? I- I don’t understand what t-the nurse said,” you stuttered, still desperately trying to suck in a decent breath of air, “what did s-she mean?”

Yeonjun looks conflicted, but answers your questions anyways, “I don’t have the entire story, but what I do know is that your dad used to work here. I guess he still kind of does, in a way? But from what I have heard, him and your mom struggled to have a baby…” he trailed off, like he really doesn’t want to answer your question. He’s staring at you with furrowed brows, like he’s trying to get a read on you, trying to determine if you’re mentally aware enough to hear this information.

“The company agreed to… help, on one condition. You were still their property, and when you turned eighteen, you were to come back to the company. You were one of their experiments, YN.”

Your mouth drops open slightly at his words. You weren’t sure what you felt, sadness… anger? Were you not a natural born? Did you go through all that torment in school, in life, all for nothing? You were actually one of these God forsaken designer babies, forced to live a life of secrecy, and for what? To be bullied into a crippling depression? Your mind was reeling with this new information, you had no idea what you were supposed to do with this.

“So I belong to them?” You blink your eyes tightly a few times, trying to hold back tears, unable to rub at your eyes like you want. You pull slightly at your chains, letting out a broken sob. “I-I’m one of them?”

Yeonjun sighs, shaking his head and looking up at your watery eyes. “I’m sorry, YN, I wish I had more information about what exactly you are, and I wish I could have told you this under better circumstances. The goal was for Namjoon and Yoongi to bring you to the safe house so they wouldn’t be able to take you, but obviously that didn’t work out.” There was remorse in his words, but no anger. He understood it wasn’t their fault, or yours. It was this horrible company's fault. They were the only ones to blame.

“I have to go, YN, I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he stood up. He placed a hand gently over your head, stroking your hair back once before turning to leave. “Please, listen to them. For now. I’m going to help you, I promise.”

You look into his eyes one last time before he nods once, leaving the room, locking it behind him. No longer do you have the distraction of conversation to sate your mind. Now you’re free to spiral into the dark depths your brain created for you.

Your parents have been lying to you for your entire life. Were they really even your parents? Could you trust them? Your father did seem conflicted when he was here earlier, almost like he didn’t want to leave you here. What Yeonjun said circled back in your mind. They were only supposed to have you until you turned eighteen. But you were twenty three now. Had they been the ones keeping you from Big Hit?

You thought back to that fateful morning only a few days ago, when your father met with Hyunwoo. Was he telling him to leave you alone, would he have protected you, did you screw yourself over by leaving with Namjoon and the others?

The others. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to them. Were they okay? You hoped so. You could only hope that they were able to get out of that forest, and finally able to reunite with one another. You hoped that Seokjin and Jungkook wouldn’t blame themselves for you being taken, though knowing what little you do know of them, they probably would. Your heart ached for them. You’ve come to care about them so much in the past few days, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said a part of you didn’t hope they would come for you.

You heard Yeonjun on the phone earlier, though the memory was a bit fuzzy. He did tell them to come here, and even though you wished they would help get you out of here, a larger part of you hoped that they would stay away. They had a chance to be away from this place, once and for all. All of them, together. You didn’t want to stand in the way of that.

Lost in your thoughts, you startled violently when the door to the small room opened again. It was the nice nurse from earlier, Soomin? When she shut the door behind her, she tsked at your pitiful sight. Still curled into the smallest form your restraints would allow, dried tear tracks staining your face.

Taking a wash cloth from her little cart, she walks over to you, holding it up as a way of asking for permission. You remember Yeonjun’s words from earlier, and nod your head in acceptance.

Soomin sighs, wiping the tears from your face, “You’ll be able to take a shower and get cleaned up once we get some food in your and you take your meds, okay?” You nod as she continues to clean your face.

When she’s done, she brings the small plate of food over to you, setting it on the bed in front of you. Carefully, she feeds you the oatmeal and fruit, and while you would normally protest, not wanting to eat, fearful that you’ll just throw it right back up, you’re mindful of what Yeojun said. You need to be complacent. What could happen if you weren’t, was so much worse than having a nice older woman spoon feed you breakfast foods.

After you finished off the fruit, Soomin went back to her cart, putting on gloves and setting up what looked like syringes and tiny glass bottles, holding some kind of liquid. You wince as she picks up one of the needles, bringing it to the tiny bottle, and pulling the liquid out.

“Lie back for me, YN,” she says sweetly, walking back over to the bed. You look at her hesitantly, fear in your eyes. You’ve never liked needles, always been afraid of them. “It will only hurt a little, okay, dear?”

You shut your eyes tightly and nod, just wanting to get this over with. Laying back on the brick like pillow they provided you with, you try to relax into the similarly firm mattress. When Soomin lifts your shirt gently, you jump, definitely not expecting her to touch you there. “W-wait!” you shout, louder than you mean to. “W-wait, p-please! Where are you putting that?!” You whimper, not wanting her to touch you further.

Soomin backed away for a moment, looking at you like you were a disobedient child. “Darling, it’s just a shot. It’s going to go in your lower stomach, I have a few of them.”

You shake your head, eyes filling with tears as you try and sit up, “No, please, don’t” you beg, wrists pulling at your restraints harder now.

“YN, dear, please calm down,” she shushes you, walking closer and placing a hand on your stomach, holding you down slightly, “it will be quick, okay?”

You let out a sob as she brings up the cotton pad to clean your skin for the injection. She does it on both sides of your belly, before cleaning on a small patch on your outer thigh, as well. You let her, though your body is trembling in fear as she does it. Your brain is instantly transported back to the searing pain you felt earlier when you were in your coma state. Is that what you were about to feel again? Before you could think too deeply about it, you feel her gloved hand on you again, causing you to jolt.

“Deep breath,” she says, before you feel a sharp pain in your stomach, making you jerk up and cry harder. Soomin pushes on your stomach with her free hand, holding you still. The searing pain from before flushes through your veins, not as intense as before, but hot, like the blood in your veins is boiling.

Your entire body is shaking with sobs by the time she finishes, not bothering to clean up the small drops of blood pooling at the entrance wounds. Maybe she isn’t as kind as you originally thought.

You feel violated. You weren’t able to stop it, to defend yourself. Even though it was only a shot, only some hormones, you felt completely stripped of your rights. That experience really solidified to you that you are nothing more than property to them, a doll, to do with what they please, and that thought breaks you when you remember Yeonjun’s words again today. You have to comply.

“I’ll be back in a few hours for your next round, dear,” Soomin says as she finishes up with your leg and leaves you. You lay flat on your back, staring at the ceiling with no emotion in your eyes, but oceans of tears falling from them. You let your eyelids slip shut after a few minutes, but you’re never able to fully fall asleep.

To be continued...

A/N: thanks for making it all the way to the end, I’m so excited to write the next couple of chapters, ahhhh!! xx

taglist: @mrsstilinski96 @sammiilynn10192 @minifruity @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz @chim-possible @kooksremedy @irishhbamb @sugashaye @lovelyseomin @strawberrygatorade @kookiebbyxx @itneverends15713

ok i updated tags, but some still wouldn’t let me tag!! tumblr has been doing me dirty these last couple of weeks, so please REBLOG to people can see this

#bts x reader #bts angst #ot7 angst #ot7 x reader #ot7 smut #bts smut #cypherwritersnet

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qvid-pro-qvo · 5 years ago

Text

the job is done, and fate has won

aaron hotchner x female!reader, taking place during and after “200 (season 9, episode 14)”

word count: 4043

rating: teen, for a little bit of heartbreak, a little bit of hurt, and finally some comfort

follow up to running away, across an ocean.

Sometimes, on particularly boring days, you found yourself staring outside your window.

There wasn’t much that happened in terms of natural scenery. The CIA Headquarters in Langley wasn’t known for its views… it barely had trees. But it was amazing what you could catch. Standing there, in your pantsuit and bare feet, watching as agents known for gathering intel across the world stumbled into illicit affairs, and gambling debts, all in that parking lot.

Because for some reason, CIA agents were still human.

Beyond the parking lot, you watched the sky. Watched it fade from bright blue or cloudy gray to a deep, stunning black, so endless it made your head spin.

(You watched the stars, sometimes.

It wasn’t the same.)

This wasn’t one of those boring days, unfortunately. It was the kind of day that made your head hurt, and your feet ache rushing from one secretary to the next. Your promotion taught you a lot, mainly that bureaucracy never went away, and neither did the missions. But your feet and your mind needed a minute, sixty seconds, to catch your breath. One minute before returning to the phone calls. The emails. The hunt.

So you watched the parking lot. Watched the blue expanse, dotted with white clouds. And when you turned back to your desk, your mind was gloriously blank, ready for another wave of information, of orders from you instead of to you. Your promotion came with your own office, your own choice of boring wall color, your own window to look out from, but that couldn’t make up for the fact that you were here and your feet were on thin carpet.

You slid back into your desk chair.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you murmured to yourself, and with a pinch to the bridge of your nose you got back to work, typing away on a work computer that you wanted to smash with a hammer on your last day. “Where are you, Askari?”

Another hour passed, and your fingertips flew, your brain working to analyze whatever it could snag. You worked hard.

(Fate worked harder.)

A knock. Firm, loud, meant to get your attention, made with broad knuckles against the wooden door.

“Come in,” you called, but your focus had already shifted from digital to analog, a stack of files beginning to be sorted through. You didn’t even realize it was him, speaking without being spoken to.

“The Undersecretary has reason to believe that Askari would be stateside –“ you started, but when you looked up it wasn’t another CIA agent, and your mouth slammed shut, an audible click that made your teeth ache.

Not CIA. Not in that suit.

“Agent Hotchner,” you greeted, for a moment too stunned to think much more past greeting. Your feet, under your desk, slid into your shoes, your arches protesting the movement.

“Agent Y/L/N. Good to see you again.”

Something was haunting him, that was for sure. It would seem that every time you met, he’d have a burden on his back. No beard, though.

Some part of your brain mourned the loss.

And then, it clicked. You were an analyst in the CIA for a reason. The agents taken – FBI. An FBI agent, mere hours after the news broke, coming to visit you, one of the leads for the task force?

You couldn’t help your chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head. The irony. “She’s one of yours.” Another file was pulled away from the stack, dismissed with a glance.

“Yes,” he replied. You didn’t need to look to feel the way he ached. Did it hurt him, as much as it hurt you? Talking again? “I… wasn’t aware you were a lead on this case.”

See, you had shoved it all down, those years ago. Had forced yourself to push forward, move on, ignore the way he’d settled into your heart. You wished you had found apathy in that, but that wasn’t how an analyst’s brain worked. You couldn’t look at a woman, built from 22 to think and think and think, and tell her to stop.

It didn’t work that way.

Your eyes didn’t lift from your desk, another filed shoved aside from the stack.

“You thought you had the right to be aware.” You smirked, your tone curt. “A bold assumption, Agent Hotchner.”

You saw him tense out of the corner of your eye. If it brought you a bit of glee, you didn’t betray it. Just let yourself enjoy it while it lasted. When the agent didn’t respond immediately, however, you finally looked up again, schooling your features into something polite, a brow raised to mimic what you used to see across a table in a tent.

“I think you were very much aware that it was me here, Agent. Neither of us are stupid. So you need something, Agent Hotchner? Or is this simply a social call? Because I have work to get back to.”

That seemed to reboot him. His jaw twitched for a moment, and you kept your gaze steady, waiting for him to make the next strike. He moved forward into the room and you watched as he closed the door behind him.

“I need what you know on Integrity, specifically Tivon Askari.”

That shocked a laugh out of you, and you shook your head, going back to the file on your desk. “Nice try. Next question.”

“This isn’t a request. I need that intel.”

When you looked up again, his jaw was clenched completely, and those deep dark eyes were narrowed, hidden in shadow from the sunlight in the window.

“Excuse me?” Your pen was set aside, polite smile gone. “You do not have clearance to get that intel.”

“One of my team has been captured,” he shot back. “I’m doing what I need to so she can come back home to her husband and son.”

Your smile turned placating, almost sickeningly sweet. “The CIA is aware of what has happened and is doing what it can to find Agent Jareau and Chief Cruz. You’re kidding yourself if you think otherwise.”

“I need to guarantee she comes back safe. She’s not an asset to be used and tossed aside.” His voice was stronger now. He never went easy on you, in Pakistan, and he wasn’t going easy on you now.

You never backed down, of course. Not then, not now. “She’s not an asset, she’s a hostage.” You were trying your best to reason with him. “And right now, we’re focusing on finding her and Askari. Now, please. Let us do our job.”

“I can’t trust that the CIA doesn’t have ulterior motives in this, Y/L/N.”

You were doing your best not to get worked up, trying your hardest not to let his words hurt. Not to let that resentment overwhelm you. But his eyes seemed to be doing their best to tear you apart. It was his family, you reminded yourself, closing your own eyes to breathe before opening them again.

“Then trust me,” you settled on. The high road. A softer voice, a softer look with the blank face. “The FBI and the CIA need to work together. But we succeed, even when we work alone. We’re doing everything we can to make sure Agent Jareau gets back safe and sound. You do not and will not have the clearance. Let the State Department handle it. Let the CIA handle it.”

His approach had to change, he surely realized. Maybe that was why he took a moment, to think, about his next move. When he spoke, it felt like a different person, like a different Aaron Hotchner. “Let the BAU help, at the very least.”

Suddenly his demeanor changed. Something about him dropped, a wall or two among the thousands falling down so you could see past it. Into his eyes, as he leaned close.

He wasn’t… seducing you. He was appealing to you. To your history. He needed this. Needed you to work with him, needed you to save Agent Jareau. With wide brown eyes with bags under them, a brow that was permanent furrowed until at least three beers in.

“We need to find her. There’s – there’s a time limit, and what he does to his victims… that cannot happen.”

When you swallowed, it was tight. He was too close.

His eyes were like quicksand. Hidden, unassuming, until you sunk into it. You couldn’t escape his slow gaze, his quiet scan.

One hand was flat against the folding table.

(No. It was your desk. It wasn’t a table, covered in photos, his magnifying glass next to the most recent attacks. It was your desk, and this was Hotch, two years later, thinking that he could, what, seduce you into giving him more –)

Your stomach clenched.

“Let us help.”

(Was the softness in his voice imagined?

It had to be.)

With a sudden move, you stood to your feet, almost stumbling at the feeling of your heels. You pushed away from the desk, away from him, moving toward the window, staring out at the brilliant blue sky. Little clouds floating.

You needed air. After all, he had taken all the oxygen, and you were the match he was trying to light. But you couldn’t be there, you couldn’t let yourself be there again. You’d opened yourself up, for the first time in so long and all that had been left was an empty tent.

“Let the BAU help.” Your voice was ragged, and you couldn’t school it into something cruel. One or two walls of his fell. Your whole defense system seemed to crumble. “Like you helped in Pakistan?”

There was a pause. Heavy. Dense. “Agent… I left to help my team –“

You whirled to face him, body tight, face dangerously close to breaking neutral. “And now I’m the one in charge of saving your asses. You left me an unfinished case, and we’re not doing that here. I am not compromising my position for amateurs. Your team will step back and let the professionals handle this.”

The silence was dead air, precious seconds in the hunt for Agents Jareau and Cruz wasted in favor of meeting each other’s gaze. He seemed to realize his misstep, and what was definitely imagined was the guilt you thought you saw flicker, a grimace on his features. When his emotions settled, however, he was back to neutral. Still never a smile.

“… we’re not going to stop looking for her.” His voice cut through the memories. The pain.

“I know. Neither will we.”

(His eyes were on you. Scanning you, up and down, over curves and lines that made you.

His eyes were on you. Watching you as you watched the stars, smiling when you smiled.

They were his family.)

The greater good, you told yourself, not the way Hotch’s heart seemed to break when you turned away again. A lead shattered.

They were his family. He wouldn’t stop. None of them would. Not until they killed themselves trying.

You couldn’t give him much. Not much of anything at all. But a start.

Your mind worked. As it always did, thinking and thinking and thinking. You settled on an answer as you moved to settle back in your chair. Settled on a shrug, looking back down at your papers. Settled on hiding your pain, on going numb, on truly forgetting Aaron Hotchner.

“If you really want to go above me, fine. Undersecretary Jackson at the State Department will be glad to field your visit. But I’m telling you, she’s not someone who spills a whole lot of state secrets for an FBI agent, not even one who knows about Hastings.”

If he noticed the way your voice was empty? He didn’t mention it, just nodded. You could almost hear the wheels turning.

“I believe I understand. Thank you, Agent Y/L/N.”

Your eyes drifted to the window. Blinds open. A brilliant blue sky. A much better sight than his eyes, whiskey brown in the shine of sun from the outside world. No more shadows.

When the sun set, would there be stars tonight?

This wasn’t Pakistan, you reminded yourself. That was clear. After all, Aaron Hotchner didn’t have a beard. There wasn’t a smile to be seen. And this time, you didn’t get three months to say goodbye. When you spoke again, you did not hold back.

“If you ever need something from the CIA,” you whispered, not daring your voice to rise anymore without breaking. “I’ll give you another contact. Pakistan was a long time ago, and things change. They… they have to change.”

I have to change, you told yourself.

Like a breakup. You wanted to cry until you could laugh at your own stupidity.

“Agent Y/L/N...”

“Good luck, Agent. And I mean that. But don’t make me regret this anymore than I already have. You have your lead.”

(When you’d closed the tent flap, your eyes had stared straight ahead, your fists clenched so tight your nails broke the skin on your palm. You took a couple of breaths, lifted your chin, and pushed forward. Moved on.)

When the door closed, you gave yourself sixty seconds.

They found her, in the end. The BAU, breaking every protocol, destroying every bit of trust ever established with the CIA, found the agents missing with mere minutes left to spare, piggybacking off of your intel. You got the FBI’s own report on your desk three hours after it ended, the rescue of Jareau and Cruz officially closing Integrity on their end.

Just another day for them, you supposed.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t over on your end until much later. Weeks after the rescue, the last of the reports finally made it to you so you could sign off. Agents who’d investigated the deaths of Askari and Hastings getting around to giving you the autopsy reports, testimony from the BAU, and final closure on what Askari was after. Your signature was quick and brutal, a swipe of pen so the file could be set aside. A close to that nightmare, and onto the next.

Integrity was over.

(Fate wasn’t.)

Your hands moved to push against your temples, rubbing in a vaguely circular motion to push down the horrors in those photographs. The reports were then reorganized, moved to your box to be delivered the next day. With a long sigh, you leaned back in your chair, your toes once again bare and curled into the carpet.

It was late. Your day was “officially” done.

And yet, your job never ended. The phone started ringing, a horrific melody, and you let it ring two or three times before picking it up.

“Y/L/N,” you answered, too exhausted to bother hiding how tired you really were.

A couple of beats passed as you listened. Slowly, your eyes got wider and wider, before you couldn’t take anymore.

“What? Here?”

Your desk phone’s cord was stretched to the window so you could peek out, no blinds to cover you as your gaze scanned under the streetlights.

There, a nondescript SUV. Khakis, work boots, a polo. And there, grasping two bottles of shitty beer in his hand…

“Fuckin’ hell.”

Your eyes blinked, a couple of times. Maybe it was a hallucination, after all, but there were no fuzzy edges. He was really out there, and you were captivated. Watched him sit, glance at his watch. Stared as he reclined, leaned back to look straight up at the sky.

Stargazing.

And then to you. You knew, even from this distance, that when he turned his head it was to find your office window.

It’d been weeks.

(It’d been years.)

You’d hadn’t stopped thinking about him. Even after telling him that you were no longer his point of entry into the CIA, even after being very clear something had to change, your mind hadn’t ever been able to let him go. Maybe there was a reason, or maybe you just hated yourself, but the sight of Aaron Hotchner wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Maybe now it could be finished, another case closed.

You took a breath. If it was going to happen, it would have to include talking it out. Like adults. You could do it, you thought. Of course that was easy when he was still three floor down.

“Okay,” you told the overnight security. “Just. Send him up. He knows where my office is. Yes, I’m aware. Let him through.”

When you hung up the phone, you knew you only had a few moments to compose yourself. Your hands moved to your hair, still somehow hanging loose around your shoulders, and rummaged around for a hair tie. You pulled it up, high and tight, and for a moment your flashbacks were colliding with real life.

A meeting with Agent Hotchner.

He arrived without any pomp and circumstance. Didn’t even knock, considering that your door was open and you were leaning on the front of your desk. Your suit jacket was draped over your chair, but it felt like opposite day when he walked in. You tried not to linger on it, but he seemed to be thinking the same thing, those infuriating eyes saying more with a slow up and down then words ever could.

A game of push and pull commenced. Who would break the silence first?

Of course, it was you. You were never one who kept your words to yourself. Not even after your promotion, when words were the sharpest things you had on your person half the time.

“Interesting move, coming at the end of the workday for a nightcap,” you told him, and the twitch of his lips was not lost on you.

“I suppose, it’s a roundabout way of saying congratulations,” he admitted. One beer was offered to you, and you took it easily, falling back into a routine you hadn’t tried to replicate in two years.

Another quick move, this time to pop the bottle cap off on the edge of your desk. It marred the surface, but you didn’t flinch. “I didn’t realize I needed to be congratulated. The BAU saved Agent Jareau, after all.” It might’ve been a little bitter, but the taste was washed away with crappy stout.

He nodded. “She’s… back home. Healing.”

The unmentioned trauma didn’t need to be explained. You were both agents. You both knew.

“Good. I’m glad,” you told him. With feeling. “Hope you’re giving her PTO.”

“She’s taking her week, but. We’re all addicted to the job.”

Silence. A couple of sips of beer on your end. Hotch’s was still unopened, gripped tightly in his hand. He was fighting with himself, it seemed, judging by the way his normal unflappable attitude was replaced by a shift in stance, a glance around your office.

“Agent Hotchner –“

“Agent –“

Stumbling over each other, you shook your head, waving to him. “Please. I’m sick of hearing my own voice.”

When he nodded, it was abrupt, and like always, his words were organized in his head before he spoke, and sometimes you just wished that he would say what was really on his mind, without fear of being misunderstood or misquoted.

“Y/L/N,” he started. “I’m… I’m here to right some wrongs. And I’m here to congratulate you.”

“Hotchner, I told you –“

“Please. Just. Let me say what I need to say.”

Your mouth closed. Your feet, sweltering in your heels, pushed out of them so your bare toes could press into the carpet. He moved to stand next to you, to lean on your desk right beside you, his bare arm brushing against your strict button-up.

“When I was in Pakistan,” he told you, “I wasn’t looking for an escape. I was on a job. And when I got there, I didn’t think that it would be a solace, but it was. You... made it that. I was comfortable. We were working, but. It was time away that I needed, to remember what was important.”

(“You’re important.”)

You weren’t looking at him, you couldn’t, but his voice then and now made your free hand curl against your desk, gripping the wood like your life depended on it.

“My team means everything to me. You know that,” he continued, “but you meant something to me, too. I opened up to you, and. The first outside my team since my wife died. Then I threw it all away.”

“You left for your family,” you said simply, having to say something. With a shrug, you looked at him, lower lip caught between your teeth. “I didn’t begrudge you, Hotch. I was… pissed, and hurt, but I understood why.”

He shook his own head. For a moment, you saw what you had seen in that tent. A gaunt face, a pained expression. A man with so much hurt that he didn’t know where to put it. “I looked up the case, saw you’d finished it. But I didn’t call, because… well. You were moving on. Moving forward.”

His hand was flat on the desk.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. His voice was low, and thick. “For not calling. For not finishing the case, for… everything. And congratulations, on getting promoted. There’s no other agent I know who’s more deserving than you.”

When you placed your hand on his, you felt warm. Felt your stomach roll at the look he gave you, eyes not wandering from your face, from the way you gave him the smallest smile.

“It’s okay, Hotch. It’s… It’s done.”

For the first time in two years, you felt like you could breathe. That pain you’d set aside was slowly fading, his words a salve for a broken heart. It was easy, you realized. Easy to shift from cautious glances to catching up, as if this was how it was meant to be all along.

“I honestly believed that I would never see you again,” you admitted. “But I’m glad I did. Maybe you can tell me what keeps you from tearing your hair out doing shit like paperwork.”

“Hard time adjusting?” The worry lines in his face seemed to fade, that furrow vanishing so he could raise a brow. “Two years not enough time?”

You didn’t expect to laugh, but you did. Chuckled a little, shaking your head as you glanced around the farce that was your office. “Hotch, I – I don’t know how to explain to you how much I hate wearing suits.”

“I can’t believe they took their best asset out of the field.” When you realized he was grinning, you laughed again. “Did they expect you to say thank you?”

“Thank them for the pay raise, I guess, but I’d prefer jet lag and a month at a time in the States over whatever it is I’m doing now.” You shook your head, remembering the looks on your bosses’ faces when you told them just how you felt about being moved to desk work.

You leaned in, finally, to confide in him, “Honestly, I think they thought that if they put me back here, I would stop running up a tab in bars across the world.”

“A routine like that is expensive,” Hotch agreed. He seemed to be looking past you, at something only he could see. “Though it was something that kept me sane.”

“It keeps all of us on track. A couple of beers, some lawn chairs, and the stars.” You smirked again, turning to look at him, at his unopened beer. “You want me to pop that open for you?”

He didn’t answer right away. After all, he was like you. You can’t train someone to think and then tell them to stop. He was thinking, and thinking, and thinking about something.

“Hotch? You want your beer?”

But it was that moment, two years in the making.

That’s when he decided to kiss you.

Sitting there, on a desk in a dark office. Nothing but lamplight and the stars outside your window illuminating the high points on your face. Nothing but your hand on top of his, a calloused thumb running over his skin. No fear of discovery, when the door could be closed, and locked, and agents with egos looking for a way to climb to the top.

Pakistan was over.

(And for the moment, so was fate.)

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #female!reader #my fic #criminal minds #hurt/comfort

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two-sides-halved · 4 years ago

Note

“Valid” reasons?

Human Steven clears his throat, "Allow me to set the scene of how I first meet my timeline's Kevin, and what he did to make me absolutely hate him."

"I was showing Connie, that I could use a gem power by fusing with my brother, making Steven Squared. Steven Squared wasn't too much bigger than my brother and I but it was still pretty cool to become this new being together, and while Steven Squared was explaining how fusion was done, Connie had jokingly said she wanted to give it a try, even if it wasn't possible because she thought it'd be fun to dance..." He continued.

"While Steven Squared and Connie were dancing, I ended up un-fusing with my brother, and ended up fusing with Connie, and we became Stevonnie. It was so bizarre and weird, but so amazing and felt so uniquely different from being Steven Squared... my brother was amazed that I could even fuse with anyone besides him, and Connie thought it was pretty cool to fuse in general. My brother had gone on and on about what we could do as this new entity we’ve made together, just being generally helpful cause he was just as excited as I was... eventually, Stevonnie got invited to a party... this was the first time I’ve ever been to a party that wasn’t my birthday, this is the first time Connie’s been to a party in general. It was so exciting... not to mention, when we got home the gems were so awestruck at Stevonnie’s existence, and Garnet giving us the wisdom of making Stevonnie’s experience a good one."

“Garnet had advised us that due to Stevonnie being the only one to be invited, Stevonnie had to go alone... so my brother didn’t get to see us off hanging out with the cool older kids, and luckily, none of the kids from schools where there, so Stevonnie had a good time to start off with at first,” His tone changed,

“Stevonnie hit the dance floor, the entire room just stopped, the music kept going but everyone was just starring, it felt awful like they messed up just by showing up to a party they were invited to... We had gotten this awful sinking feeling in our shared gut... It was my self esteem tanking, I ruined our vibes by over thinking... we felt like we were sinking in quicksand. That’s when he showed up, cutting through our fusion hallucination like a hot knife through butter.”

“He looked at us up and down like a piece of meat fresh from the butcher and had the nerve to call us ‘baby’” Human Steven continued, “We didn’t acknowledge him and tried to gather our thoughts... then he comes on by using anime flirting techniques, like he can successfully swoon anyone with a tactic like that... and normally I’m not one for swearing but Stevonnie isn’t me and they told him to kindly fudge right off.“

“But he kept pushing and pushing, and he was a total creep!” Human Steven continued, “So after our emotions got the best of us, we unfused and then he finally grow a shred of common sense and left us alone.” Human Steven taking a deep breath, he’s still upset but he’s going to press on, he needed to talk about this.

Human Steven gives a deep cough, before continuing, “It was about a year and a half until we saw him again.”

“Kevin was demanding my dad wash his car, while he’s still sitting in it, boasting about how he’s gonna win some race, while also talking about his socks being stirred but not shaken or whatever, I just remember that he demanded my dad washi his car cause he wanted his car to look as good as him... I would have clearly smeared some of Lion’s feces all over his piss yellow car to maliciously comply with that request.” He crossed his arms, “But what upset me the most happened later that day. I told Connie how much of a jerk. Kevin was being to my dad... so we decided together to take his ego down a peg, and show him up at the race he was going on and on about... we fused into Stevonnie, we challenged him to a race...”

“It was going well at first, we were keeping up a decent pace with him... then he said something... and I’ve had my fair share of bullying in school, as did Connie when she went before being abandoned... but this action.”

“This piece of conversation burns in my very core.“ His fists clenched, he took a deep breath trying his best to calm him down, but they pink was not fading this time, he was seething with rage toward the past. He’s breathing hard, in through his nose and out through his mouth. “We’re talking back and forth between the cars, as we’re racing on this mountain side. Then Stevonnie ask ‘Why is he such a jerk all the time?’“ He continued.

“At first, we’re expecting this snobby response... but we hear him give out a sigh... like a thoughtful one, like no one’s asked him what’s been on his mind.” Human Steven continues. “Kevin, then goes on to explain he’s been lashing out... because of his little brother.”

Steven’s fuming with rage, as he continues, “He goes on to explain that his little brother of his, has been sick all his life, and that maybe if he acts real cool and doesn’t let anyone in that maybe the pain would go away... and maybe that he could take his little brothers pain away.” He snarled out his words at this point, “Just when I thought Kevin was just this misunderstood guy, who was a brother like Gem and he was just being awful as a defense mechanism and had a brother like me that he was protecting from the prying eyes of the public... HE FUCKING LAUGHS AND TELLS STEVONNIE THAT HE DOESN’T HAVE A BROTHER AND THAT HE’S LIKE THIS BECAUSE ITS FUCKING HILARIOUS TO HIM.. AND I WAS SO DAMN UPSET, I FELT SO FUCKING IDIOTIC... WHAT MADE ME THINK HE WAS BEING TRUTHFUL... WHY DID I THINK THAT A PERSON AS SHITTY AS KEVIN IS COULD EVEN BE CAPABLE OF BEING A FUCKING DECENT PERSON?“ Steven’s mouth could feel the sting as the strings of angry sentences containing curse words left his mouth.

Human Steven clamped over his mouth, he knew he was angry, he knew that it burned him up when he talked about that instance but he wasn’t expecting such profanity to leave his lips, he was so thankful that the gems, and Classic Steven were out of the house at that point in time.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry for that outburst, I knew I was angry but I guess I didn’t know that I was angry enough to use such language.”

“Anyway, thank you for coming to my Steven Speaks.”

#budding questions deserve blooming answers ~ [ answered asks ]#human son of a rose ~ [ human steven ]#show yourself ~ [ anonymous ]#kevin the jerk

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sidoniedupont · 4 years ago

Text

**𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒** Though divinity-kissed, Sidonie is not omnipotent; her magic, in spite of its intricacies and fantastic feats, has its limitations and can take a great deal out of her, should she not be mindful with the way she wields the earth. The bigger the amount of earth she’s manipulating, the more taxing it is (though, her experiences and natural aptitude for magic make her into a seasoned mage who rarely exhausts herself to those extents). Since the chaos of magic that seemingly spewed from her hands after leveling her town as a child, Sidonie has only exhausted herself physically with her magic during her trips to the Obsidienne, some as exhibitions for Empress Calandre to prove the prowess of her arcane advisor. So far, her life in Le Palais D'été has not required Sidonie to rely on massive outbursts of magic--thank Odeline.

𝐈. 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒.

THE ABILITY TO REND THE EARTH. As an earth-rending mage, Sidonie Dupont was born with the ability to manipulate the earth in whatever way she saw fit. This ability, noticed first at the tender age of four, began first as pebbles tossed by a tiny balled fist accompanied by a gleeful giggle; it blossomed into something terribly beautiful--unworldly powers culled only by Odeline’s mercies and Her bestowal of such abilities to one determined Sidonie Colette Dupont. Now, more than two decades later, Sidonie’s repertoire of skills used to manipulate the earth vary widely, and include but are not necessarily limited to:

ROCK CUFFS. The ability to fashion handcuffs out of rocks or any other sturdy earth material.

EARTH SINKING / QUICKSAND. The ability to immobilize others by altering the ground underfoot, effectively turning it into a difficult hole to climb from or quicksand.

ROCK SLIDES. The ability to cause multiple rocks of different sizes to rain down on opponents. Can also be used to scale mountainsides, though she’s never done it.

PROJECTILES. The ability to create and loose earth-based projectiles. These can be cute and harmless (like the handful of rocks she sends flying during one of her tricks at Court), or they can be terribly deadly (like the shrapnel-like bullets loosed on the undead in the Obsidienne).

EARTH LEVITATION. The ability to cause earth-based materials to levitate, as such.

SEISMIC SENSE. The ability to sense vibrations of the ground, creating a 360 degree “image” of anything in contact with the ground from which she’s working. It is most effective when Sidonie is focused and she’s in direct connection with the earth--no shoes, no gloves. It can be used to identify people by their footsteps.

TECTONIC PLATE SHIFTING. The ability to cause earthquakes and create fissures. This is what she did when she leveled her town as a child.

DUST CLOUDS. The ability to cause the ground underfoot to quickly vibrate, stirring up dust. This is used for concealment, but also protection; it’s a favorite technique of Sidonie’s for the Obsidienne, where she uses the dust and dirt particles in the air to create a shield around herself so she’s not injured by whatever may come her way.

SCULPTING. The ability to take any earth-based substance and sculpting it to whatever she sees fit. This is a staple of all her shows at Court, as she always uses it to create a figure of Celestinean griffon, flower, etc. figurine to gift her favorite viewer at the end of her performances.

THE ABILITY TO REND (PROCESSED) METALS AND OTHER COMPOUNDS. This is a subset of her earth-rending ability, and is how she’s able to manipulate the gardens to Her Majesty’s liking. Sidonie first recognized her prowess towards the end of her tenure as a student at the best mage school Val Faim had to offer, but it wasn’t until she became Calandre’s Advisor that she practiced relentlessly until it was perfected. The need for the ability was borne from her additional position as Court Mage; her grandiose outdoor performances were always a bit less enjoyable when the biting winds of Nadia and Diodore ruffled the clothes of her attendees. As such, Calandre--albeit, unhappily--moved Sidonie’s shows from outside to inside, drastically limiting what the mage could do. In a bid to please Calandre, she learned to manipulate metals*, too, by locating the minuscule trace amounts of earth in them and ferrokinetically altering them. It’s taken a handful of years to perfect it, but she now always keeps enough metal on her person to create three small throwing knives or one combat knife for the sole reason of having it to utilize, should the matter arise. (* Sidonie is unable to manipulate highly processed metals with little to no traces of the earth left in them. The more processed the metal is, the more difficult it is and the more exhausted she becomes attempting to alter it.)

𝐈𝐈. 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐒 & 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒.

SEISMIC SURVEILLANCE. An enchantment used to detect the footsteps of anyone approaching within the area dictated by Sidonie. It is something she came up with when she began heavily involving herself with the betrothed VIOLAINE GEROUX ( @vviolaine ), as she couldn’t afford for their trysts at La Cour de La Reine to be ruined by prying eyes and wandering feet. The longer it is used, the less accurate it is, and Sidonie often has to re-enchant the area of interest if she wants to keep surveillance as correct as possible.

BOTANIST’S TOUCH(ES). An array of enchantments for different types of plants and crops to encourage the most bountiful yields and longest blooming periods. These enchantments are used for the altering of Jardins Empressian when Calandre requests, but also for CYRIL BEAUCHAMP ( @cyrilbeauchamp ), who uses the plants provided for her fashion creations.

[REDACTED]. An enchantment learned from HELENE FARROW ( @ircnclad ) in a bid to get information out of Amelie--or break her in the process. It is meant to induce truth-telling if successful; if unsuccessful, it fractures the psyche of the target. This is not a spell Sidonie is proud to know, per se, and she doesn’t know it well enough to add it to her personal repertoire of enchantments; however, for Calandre and her safety, Sidonie’ll do nearly anything.

#character study | headcanon #character study | magic #character study | development #/ ofc i'll update as more stuff comes along #/ but ye :) here's her...abilities #/ just... just call her an earthbender damn near LOL #/ just with a few tweaks here and there

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bumblebeezandhoney · 5 years ago

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How To Collect Stardust

Genre: Fluff/Strangers to Lovers/Slow Burn/Courtship/Faery AU

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Summary: Taehyung teaches YN how to collect stardust.

A/N: YN is Your Name. I know most reader inserted stories are in second person but I had this feeling I needed to write this in third person. Apologies if it sounds awkward. Hope everyone is healthy and safe.

Chapter 1

YN was bored.

She stood aimlessly in her kitchen. Migrating to her bedroom for a change of scenery, the poor thing found herself restless and uninspired. Self-isolation had never been so difficult. Seeing as there was nothing to do in her bedroom, YN sluggishly walked to her living room, dragging her feet against the plushed carpet which was cleaned twice this morning.

YN had tried reading, painting, cleaning and even cooking but soon stopped for she feared she would run out of things to do for the rest of the day. It was only 1pm of day 42.

Frankly put, she was miserably bored and was in desperate need of company.

What was the saying? Misery loves company and...boredom? That sounded about right.

Boredom was like quicksand, she mused. The moment it touched you, it was nearly impossible to shake off. You found yourself sinking and sinking and sinking, until you were sucked into the pits of boredom with no hopes of escape. Where you die of boredom.

Or, thought YN to herself, boredom was more like a vampiric spirit that attached itself to you and sucked all feelings of enjoyment in doing anything. YN didn’t want to do anything but she also didn’t want to do nothing.

And so at 1:03pm on day 42 of self-isolation, she made herself comfortable in her balcony chair outside with her pink cactus of two months sitting snugly in her lap. Her plant, baptized Cactimus on day 12 of her self-isolation journey, was her great and only companion.

Being that she was on the second floor of the apartment building and facing the woods, YN didn’t have the best or worse view. She couldn’t see the top of the trees and she couldn’t closely admire her ground floor neighbor’s garden gnomes and faery doors. The area was deserted. YN stared blankly ahead and began counting the number of squirrels to pass by the time.

Six squirrels later (was there some kind of family reunion?) YN saw her first human of the day. He was strolling leisurely, stopping on occasion to pick up a rock or a fallen leaf.

“Is he carrying a wooden bucket?” she murmured to Cactimus as she furrowed her brow.

First-human-being-of-the-day was indeed carrying a wooden bucket, similar to what children would bring to the beach.

YN scoffed, amused at the idea.

The young man had long black hair and was dressed snugly in a red cardigan and dark brown slacks. He was too far away for YN to make out his features. Barefoot and without a care in the world, he swung his wooden bucket in one hand and in the other hand…was that a toy shovel?

YN burst into laughter.

That got the man’s attention. He stilled and turned to the sound of laughter.

YN stopped laughing.

“How on earth did he hear me,” YN whispered to Cactimus. Her heart quickened when she saw him approaching.

She leaned forward, feeling equally uneasy and curious.

Upon closer inspection at the nearing figure, YN was stunned to realize how good looking the young man was. Her heart quickened for a different reason.

“Six feet!” she blurted to the approaching stranger when she saw he wasn’t going to stop. Was he planning on climbing up her balcony??

The handsome man stopped. He cocked his hip to the side, stared up at YN and smiled.

“Is this six feet? Looks more like seven,” he teased, his voice deep and low. A shiver ran up YN’s spine. The man took a giant step forward.

YN didn’t know whether to laugh or frown. She settled on frowning.

“What are you doing? We’re supposed to be social distancing,” she reprimanded, her actions betraying her words as she leaned further to get a better view of the man.

“We are social distancing. Unless you decide to jump down from your balcony. Sadly, due to the circumstances, I won’t catch you, as lovely as you are. Or should I say I shouldn’t catch you,” quipped the handsome man.

YN couldn’t stop the small smile on her face even if she tried. She would always welcome a flirty, witty man’s company. She was starved for real life conversation and compliments.

“What’s your-” hesitated YN.

“-name?” finished the young man.

Feeling shy, YN looked down at Cactimus before glancing at the stranger again.

“YN,” she said before realizing she was speaking too softly. She cleared her voice and said louder, “YN.”

“YN YN or YN? Either way, a very beautiful name,” said the young man cheekily.

How did he hear me the first time, she wondered to herself.

“Whatever you like. What about you?” YN said with a laugh, eyeing him with interest. “I’ve never seen you around.”

“You can call me Taehyung,” Taehyung answered simply.

YN nodded. A second wave of shyness hit her.

Taehyung stared intently at YN. She suddenly felt awkward – at not knowing what to say and at having a terribly handsome man standing in front of her balcony staring at her. It was odd to say the least.

YN coughed into her hand, her eyes darting before landing on his again. He was still staring.

“I’m on my way to collect stardust. Would you like to join me?” he asked slowly, as if his invitation carried great significance.

YN didn’t know what to think of such a strange request. She blinked, hoping she heard wrong. Was he a little…touched?

“Uh…I’m sorry, what?” she asked in disbelief.

Taehyung smiled to himself and shook his head to then turn and walk away. YN stared at his retreating back in bewilderment. That’s it??

A sudden urge to sneeze came to YN. She achoo-ed three times in a row. With watery eyes she looked up to see Taehyung was gone.

YN could only laugh, shaking her head.

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

The sun was warmer the next day. YN was seated in her chair basking in the sun and fresh air. It was 12:55pm on day 43 of self-isolation. A long-forgotten book and iced peach drink lay beside her. In what she hoped was a languid manner, she glanced around, her eyes searching and wondering.

“Hello.”

YN startled. For the briefest of moments, she felt a puff of hot air tickling her left ear. She whipped around but found no one.

“Hello?” she called out tentatively, wondering if she’d receive a response.

A car honked in the distance.

YN sighed and grabbed her pink companion.

“I’m going crazy, aren’t I. To be fair, I’m only going crazy if I talk to no one and I hear something back,” she mused to Cactimus, lightly brushing imaginary dust off the plant.

“Hello,” said a deep, clear voice from below her balcony.

YN nearly dropped the cactus in surprise. Heart in her throat, she quickly glanced down to see Taehyung standing directly below her balcony.

“Oh hello Taehyung,” she said, a strange feeling settling on her tongue as she said his name. She couldn’t say she didn’t like it. It almost felt as if cotton candy was melting into her tongue. The sensation was gone as fast as it came.

And was it her imagination or did he shiver at the sound of her saying his name?

What an eccentric man, she thought.

“Hello YN…or is it YN YN?” said Taehyung with a smile, as he shook his hair out of his eyes.

YN responded with a smile and a shrug. She filed away the fact it was the second time Taehyung asked for her name. She would ponder about that later.

A moment passed between them as YN studied him. He was barefoot again, this time dressed in a flowered dress shirt with pink dress pants. There were so many questions YN wanted to ask. Where were his shoes? And his bucket and shovel? Why was he back?

And why was he holding a bouquet of yellow roses?

As if reading her mind, Taehyung glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. He raised the bouquet as if he had the mind to give it to her.

YN didn’t know what to do. Hesitating, she reached down to accept the roses. Just as YN was about to grasp the bouquet, it fell from Taehyung’s grip. Their hands touched. His hands were long and strong, his fingers ghosting over her wrist before cradling YN’s hand. Just as fast as it happened, he let go. Warmth blossomed in YN’s palm and chest.

A giddiness overcame her. She had the strongest urge to do something – laugh, dance, sing, cheer!

“Oh no,” he said, the faux surprise in his voice sounding ludicrous to YN’s ears.

“You did that on purpose,” she said, wanting to laugh.

“I did not,” Taehyung replied, his eyes twinkling. If she was a lesser woman she would have swooned.

“Yes you did,” insisted YN.

“You could come down and retrieve them yourself,” he suggested.

“Are they for me Taehyung?” countered YN bravely. Taehyung’s ears turned bright red.

He opened his mouth, thought twice about it, spun around and started briskly walking away. For the second time, YN stared at his retreating back. The man was near running away by the looks of it.

“Where are you going?” she spluttered. Had she scare him off?

She sighed, resting her hand on her cheek. Feeling a pinprick on her cheek, YN glanced down at her hand – the hand held by Taehyung – and saw the shiniest, brightest jeweled ring on her middle finger.

“What!” she exclaimed, not believing her eyes.

A cluster of yellow stones circled the golden band. YN brought her hand up in front of her. She had never seen anything so bright, so clear and so yellow. Suddenly remembering the fallen yellow roses, she peered below the balcony. There was nothing there. She looked up.

Taehyung was gone as well.

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

A/N: Tada~! Here is my attempt at fluff and slow burn. I had horrible writer’s block for the past week and then this lovely, sweet, soft, pure story came to me out of the blue. I have a soft spot for faeries and I hope I do this story justice. I will try to keep each chapter at least 1k words. I know it’s not a lot but I’m trying to get into the habit of writing more frequently. Enjoy! Please let me know what you think <3

#bts x reader #taehyung x oc #taehyung x y/n #bts fluff #bts slow burn #bts fairy #taehyung fluff #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts au #bts au fic #bts soft #bts fanfiction #taehyung x you #bts fae #bts scenario #how to collect stardust

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gaylenightingale · 4 years ago

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TUMBLR Inu/Sess Mini Bingo

Chapter 2

Chocolate

@redalgaebloom

(AN-Chocolate wasn’t introduced to Japan until 1797. However, in this story suspend disbelief. Please.)

Inuyasha grew from a cherubic toddler into an energetic, enthusiastic preteen. He worshipped Sesshomaru and tried to imitate everything he did. As the only male figure in Inuyasha’s life, Sesshomaru became the one Inuyasha looked up to, the one he wanted to be. It was not unusual for Inuyasha to hear about something Sesshomaru learned one day then want to try it the next. When Sesshomaru discussed a reading, Inuyasha would beg his mother to teach him to read. When Sesshomaru discussed a writing, Inuyasha would ask for her instruction. When Sesshomaru said “red was beautiful”, Inuyasha wanted to wear it. Izayoi realized why Inuyasha requested these subjects and was thrilled to provide as much teaching as she could. She wanted to encourage Inuyasha to learn and grow. She also wanted to encourage their bond. She knew Inuyasha would need Sesshomaru when she was gone. Her human life would be so short compared to his. She didn’t want her son to be lonely.

Izayoi once mentioned the importance of thanking others when they did something for you. Inuyasha perked his ears.

“How do I do that mother?” The preteen inuhanyou inquired, his ears flicking in all directions.

“Oft times one uses words to thank another; like “Thank you Milord.” Gifts are another option, things like my embroidery samplers, homemade toys. Don’t forget thoughtful actions, Inuyasha. Holding the door open. Sweeping up after yourself when you track in mud.”

Inuyasha thought about those ideas and completely ignored the “sweeping up the mud” comment. He was focused on thanking Sesshomaru.

When he was finished with his lessons with his mother, he took a run through the forest. He had figured out that climbing trees was quite easy and that he could run quickly between the tops of them. He had managed to run as far as a nearby village when he spied a young woman and a young man. He stopped running to spy on them.

It was not uncommon for Inuyasha to observe people from a distance. Afterall the only people he could interact with were his mother and the maid and his half-brother. The castle employees would point and laugh at his ears and say dreadful things about his mother. The castle guards would throw rocks at him. He did not complain to anyone about it though. He just honed his skills and watched and listened.

He would eaves drop on villagers in the neighboring towns. They didn’t know him so they wouldn’t throw rocks.

It was on this outing that he discovered chocolate. Inuyasha saw one young woman held something in a wrapping and gave it to a young man. He opened it and took a bite. The smile on his face was radiant. Inuyasha became even more curious and watched as the young man dropped the gift and pressed his lips to the young woman’s. A pleasurable moan followed. The lovers became so involved in each other that they didn’t notice a puppy eared thief take off with the present.

Inuyasha resumed his position in the tree and opened the package. It was a dark bar that smelled good.

Perhaps Sesshomaru will respond similarly, he thought. ‘I don’t know what the lips to lips thing was but maybe he would like it.’ Inuyasha raced home with his present.

That evening at 4:00 PM Sesshomaru stood in the garden awaiting Inuyasha’s visit. He was excited. He had many things to share with his baby brother today. Sesshomaru had really enjoyed time with his little brother. It was the one time of the day that he felt invincible. All the rest of the day people were teaching him, kowtowing to him, annoying him with their pleasantries and fake praise. But at 4:00 PM it was all real. Inuyasha was a breath of fresh air. He shared that with his mother who just snorted and walked away.

Inuhime had heard the old witch’s prophecy and kept vigilant because of it.

When Sesshomaru was born an old hag dropped by the castle to leave her prophecy. It read:

When the second is born, the unity of the two will be grand.

Any attempts to separate will fail even though well planned.

In time a curse will fall and split the pair, love will slip away like quicksand.

During this time the enemy, he will assail, evil will be at his command.

Long and painful be the time that passes until united they stand

But when they do, faith, hope, love, peace; all will be well in the land.

At that time Inuhime had thought the old woman a charlatan. In the back of her mind she wondered if she could keep them apart would the prophecy come true. The night Izayoi cried because the babe had colic, Inuhime realized it would be easier to stop a tsunami. However, she attempted to keep them apart anyway. What would people say if her beautiful full blood demon was seen cavorting with a half-blood! As the two aged it was clear they needed each other. Sesshomaru needed a safe place to be himself and Inuyasha needed a male figure. Inuhime silently cursed Toga. ‘Damn him for not being here to help. Husband, if you are listening, watch over your sons.’

That afternoon Inuyasha jumped out of the trees and ran to Sesshomaru.

“I have a gift for you, Big brother!” the hanyou proclaimed joyously.

Sesshomaru smiled. ‘A gift from his brother would be a wonderful thing.’ “What is it?” He asked, a true smile on his face.

“You will like it. I know you will,” and with that positive cheerful comment Inuyasha thrust the gift to Sesshomaru.

Sesshomaru smelt the gift even before he opened it. ‘What a delightful smell’, he thought. As he opened the package, he saw the dark brown bar.

“Let us share this together, little brother,” Sesshomaru offered.

“Okay,” chirped the hanyou.

The boys split the chocolate, and each took a bite. The taste exploded in their mouths. They wanted more. Before too long the bar had disappeared. Inuyasha had a ring of brown around his lips. Sesshomaru noticed it when he finished licking his fingers.

“Inuyasha, you have something here,” and he pointed to his brother’s upper lip.

Inuyasha had seen the two in the forest, so he stood still and waited for his brother to make a move.

“Inuyasha, all you have to do is wipe it off with the back of your hand.”

“Oh,” replied the preteen. He wiped his face and smeared some of it.

“Allow me,” said the older brother and he took his napkin and wiped the boy’s face.

Inuyasha smiled but still wondered about the lip pressing. Perhaps he could ask his mom.

Sesshomaru proceeded to tell Inuyasha of all the things he had learned that day. It was fascinating, but after about one hour both boys felt their stomachs growl and made their excuses to go to the bathroom. Diarrhea was followed by increased urination then vomiting and restlessness. By seven pm Inuyasha lay on the floor rolling back and forth moaning.

Izayoi was concerned for Inuyasha. She went to the main house. A maid met her at the door.

“Please, may I talk to Inuhime,” Izayoi began but the maid just slammed the door in her face.

Izayoi tried again.

And again, the maid slammed the door.

After four door slams Izayoi’s desperation led her to call out loud in front the area of the house that she suspected Inuhime resided in.

“Inuhime, please help me. Inuyasha is sick!” she yelled, panic lacing her voice.

The castle guards surrounded her and were dragging her off when Inuhime opened the window.

“Is he vomiting?”

The guards still held fast but allowed Izayoi to answer.

“Yes, he is. I can’t get him to stop.”

Inuhime nodded and then closed the windows. The guards remained in position surrounding the helpless frantic mother.

Soon Inuhime arrived at their location.

“You,” she pointed to the guards. “Go! Bring the child to Sesshomaru’s room. Do so carefully or your lives will be forfeit.” The guards moved off but not before Inuhime heard one mutter. A quick flash of her whip, and the guards doubled their speed.

Then she turned to Izayoi.

“Come with me. Sesshomaru is showing the same illness. We must get to the bottom of this. It may be a plan to destabilize the kingdom if both sons are ill. I will call the advisors as well.

Both boys were placed in the mammoth size bed. Both rolled back and forth, holding their stomachs and occasionally vomiting. Izayoi stood watch over them while Inuhime held an emergency council meeting. Castle healers examined the emesis for any clues to the origin of the poisoning. Izayoi watched as the healers avoided Inuyasha and cared solely for Sesshomaru. She just imitated their actions. After watching them take Sesshomaru’s pulse for the hundredth time Izayoi commented, “Inuyasha’s pulse is 150. What is Sesshomaru’s?”

A young apprentice answered. “My Lord’s pulse is 150 as well.”

An old healer batted him in the ears.

Izayoi was not discouraged. She pointed her question at the older healer. “What is the purpose of knowing the pulse?”

The master healer turned away from the human. However, the apprentice approached the master and asked in a soft voice.

“Master? What is the purpose of knowing the pulse?”

The master stared at the apprentice.

“You slow idiot! I will be looking into your training personal after this. Vital signs such as pulse, respiration, and temperature are vital for a reason. They can inform you on the course of your care. A normal heart rate ranges between 60 and 100 for a grown demon. Younger children may be a bit higher. When a body is dehydrated like our princes the heart rate races. We attempt to get it down with sips of water. Too much and they throw up. One half teacup an hour will be enough generally.”

Izayoi did not miss “our princes”. She bowed at the old healer.

The master huffed. “I did not say these things for you, Human.”

“Regardless Sir, I am grateful.”

The young apprentice’s eyes sparkled briefly and then he studied the floor intently.

Moments later Inuhime entered the room.

“The council has met. No sign of sabotage or treason has been found. We will just have to wait until the boys are able to talk to us to find out how they were poisoned. In the meantime, the guards are all on alert. Izayoi, you can stay her and rest on that lounge. Healers assist her son as you are mine. I will be available as needed.”

So Izayoi rested. The boys stopped vomiting around two am and then rolled into each other. Sesshomaru clasped onto Inuyasha and brought him close to his body. The heat helped the stomachache or at least that’s what he told his mother in the morning.

The following morning both boys were still exhausted. They were allowed to sleep late. When they did wake, they sipped miso soup and returned to sleep. One more bout of vomiting and diarrhea followed but they were both on the mend.

The council retreated, reassured by the healers that Prince Sesshomaru was healing.

Izayoi relaxed and slept.

Inuhime regarded the scene emotionless. ‘What could have caused this illness?’

Word count: 1888

#inusess#inucest#mini bingo

@redalgaebloom#Inusessbingo

#inusessbingo #inusess #inuyasha yaoi #inuyasha fanfiction

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reddie-fangirl24 · 5 years ago

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When Love Saves a Life (A Reddie Fanfiction)

NOTE: This is a request from @criminaltoziers. Richie and Eddie get into a big fight. I based it off on that fic where the Losers go on a camping trip together, and Richie avoids everyone because he is having nightmares. I also wrote in a requested line from @arabellaturner3. I hope you guys enjoy this! It was so fun to write! Please, keep sending requests. It gets boring in quarantine sometimes.

Donate to my ko-fi!

“I sweat to God, Richie! If this whole thing is leading to a joke about my mom, I’m going to...”

The Losers didn’t want to listen to this argument anymore sitting outside of the RV. Mike was trying to fix the flat tire. In all truth, none of them were mechanics making it a tough process. What was worse was that they were parked in an area not even close to civilization. They were near a forest, with dark trees looming over them like that scary scene from Snow White where the princess runs through the forest.

This was supposed to be a fun trip. For most of their excursion, Richie was acting closed off, snapping at anybody when he was just asked a simple question. For most of the way, Richie drove. Obviously, something was wrong when he nearly nodded off, driving them off the road less than an hour ago.

Just then, the door to the RV opened, and Richie stomped out. “Let’s just end this!”

“Oh, of course!” Eddie was right behind him, slamming the door to the vehicle roughly. The sound rattled Beverly.

Richie snapped his head back like an owl. The bags under his eyes were prominent. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing! Nothing!” Eddie slapped his arms against his side. This argument had been going on for a whole hour now.

“Tell me! I’m such a rock because I can’t feel? Might as well hit me with one!” Richie challenged him.

“Who has the time?” Eddie retorted right into his face.

Oh, no, this wasn’t turning out good. Mike stood up, hoping there was some way he could stop this argument. Since they all lived in different states it was hard to get together. All Mike wanted to do was to get his friends together for a real reunion to make up for the last.

“What do you mean? Tell me, Eddie!” Richie took a charging step towards his boyfriend, huffing like a bull. He was so sleep deprived that he could have qualified for one.

Eddie shook his head, staring down Richie. “You never make time, that’s what, you asshole! It would be way easier to be with a guy who could be open about his feelings, instead of being away on so many trips!”

“Wow, and this is coming from the guy who was a loveless marriage to his mother for fifteen years!”

Wrong thing to say. Ben put a comforting arm around Beverly. Shouting triggered her.

Eddie’s mouth hung open, trembling. “That’s it...”

“That’s it for what?”

“We’re done.”

Feeling their heart skip a beat, Bill was shocked, as Beverly gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. No, this was not happening.

Richie was still trying to process the horrible words that Eddie just said. Night after night he was plagued with nightmares. Nightmares about Eddie dying, being taken away from him, or Eddie leaving telling him that the relationship was not worth it. These nightmares were the reason why Richie had been giving everyone a hard time because he was having trouble coping, trying to hide it.

Finally, waking up from his thoughts, Mike was talking to Eddie who looked as if he were going to pass out. Normally, Richie was at his side in a second, helping him breathe, but he didn’t.

You don’t have the time.

Eddie ran off, disappearing into the forest, breaking into tears.

“No, Eddie, wait!” Mike called after him. “We don’t know what’s in that forest! It could be dangerous!”

Beverly got up. “I’ll get him!”

“Be careful!” Ben called after her.

The forest was creepy. Every moment Beverly turned back just to make sure that she was not going in the wrong direction. She should have brought along bread crumbs. Just then she realized that this was the first time she had been along after a long period of time. Beverly recoiled from the trees that stood tall like giants. Now was not the time to get scared. After all, she battled and won against an alien-clown. Twice.

Following the cries, Beverly found Eddie sitting on a rock, covering his face with his hands. Her heartbreaking at such a horrible image, Beverly immediately pulled her friend into a hug, letting the man cry into her shirt.

“Oh, Eds, you didn’t really mean that, did you?” Beverly asked him, rubbing a gentle hand along his shaking back.

Eddie held her tightly, sniffling. “I-I don’t even know where that came from! He won’t tell me what’s wrong! Are Richie and I even meant to be together?”

“Yes,” Beverly said to him, nodded.

Eddie parted from the hug, taking a deep breath. “I just wish Richie would tell me what’s going on. He won’t sleep! Am I doing something wrong?”

“Breaking up with him is not what you should do. Talking to him will make Richie open up about what is bothering him,” Beverly told him, keeping a hand around his shoulder.

Eddie started to cry again, ashamed. Break up? How could he ever say an awful thing? It hurt. Richie was the best thing that could ever happen to him. Yes, he wasn’t around a lot, but he was a comedian, what could Eddie expect? The more he thought about his accusation, it was so untrue. Richie was always there, 24/7 in the beginning when he was injured.

“I love him, Beverly,” Eddie admitted, his voice breaking from the tears. “He’s so annoying, but he’s always there for me.”

“Didn’t you tell me that it was annoying?” Beverly smirked.

Eddie snickered. Beverly’s smiles always worked. “That’s the best part about him.”

“Have you two ever thought about going to a therapist? I think you should talk to someone about how you are feeling. Ben and I have. It helps, really!”

Closing his eyes, Eddie took another deep breath trying to slow down his already rapid breathing. All that time where Eddie demanded that Richie sees a therapist, he should have been seeing one himself. His mother despised therapists, lying to him saying that therapists would only make him worse. How ironic, seeing how she messed him up.

Beverly got his attention, wrapping a comforting arm around Eddie’s shoulder. “Don’t do this to you and Richie, Eddie. Please, go talk to him. He needs you now more than ever.”

Eddie stood up quickly and took a few steps. “You’re right. I have to- WHOA!”

“Eddie!” Beverly cried out in a panic when the lower half of Eddie’s body disappeared in a murky substance.

Great! Just great! To make this day worse, Eddie had to fall into a pit mud. Filthy mud. Deep mud. Moving to get out, Eddie panicked, sinking a little to his knees. “What the fuck?”

“Do you want me to help-”

“No, Beverly, stay back!” Eddie alerted raising his hand out, stopping her. “It’s quicksand!”

Beverly’s blood ran cold. “Shit! I have to do something! Uh- here, grab this stick!” The branch wasn’t long enough for Eddie to grab onto. Unfortunately the more he moved only caused him to sink further. He sank a little over his thighs, near his hips. Starting to freak out over what germs, parasites, and other miniscule deadly things invaded in this mire, Eddie had to control his panic attack.

Nearly falling into the swamp herself, Beverly barely got her foot out before looking at Eddie helplessly with tears rolling down her cheeks. Eddie remained still. That didn’t help. He still sank no matter what.

“Beverly,” Eddie’s voice squeaked like a child. It was an awful feeling when a bog of cold mud was pressing against your legs. “You need to go back to camp and get everyone else to help.”

“What? No! I can’t leave you!” Tears sprang into Beverly’s eyes. She felt like a helpless little child again.

“You can bring a rope. Please, I know you can do this.” Eddie himself did not want to be left alone in this bog which was already past his thighs. It was the only way possible.

“Okay, okay…” Beverly reluctantly agreed.

“Hurry, please?” Eddie pleaded with clear fright in his voice. A bead of sweat slipped off his face falling into the mud and dissolving.

“I’ll be back soon, Eddie! I promise!”

---

“Richie, he didn’t mean that!” Bill told Richie was who fuming. Mike restrained Richie. To release his anger, Richie punched at the RV. These dents weren’t going to look good when they brought it back to the rental.

Finally, Richie screamed out in pain. Waiting, Richie felt to his knees, covering his arms over his face. Waiting a few minutes, Richie spoke. “No, he’s right.”

“What do you mean he’s right?” Ben asked.

Richie shook his aching head. “I haven’t been there. I’ve just been avoiding him because I’m so fuckin’ afraid to talk about my feelings!”

Mike put a hand on his back in comfort, noting how tense he was. “Richie, I’m sure Edde did not mean that.”

“He’s just trying to help you,” Bill told him.

“I haven’t been there for him,” Richie was so tired that his mind could barely comprehend what his friends were saying to him. All he wanted to have was a good night’s sleep. Eddie had been doing everything to help him, but all he was doing was making their relationship worse.

He looked up at his friends, seeing how worried they looked. How could he make them worry? And Eddie was off somewhere in the woods crying.

Ben looked into his eyes. “Just talk to him, Rich. Everything will be...”

“RICHIE!” Beverly flew out of the forest in a panic. She almost tripped herself up on a tree root.

Richie stood up when he saw her panic-stricken face. “What is it?!”

“Eddie! Eddie… h-he…” Beverly was so out of breath that she couldn’t form words. Ben walked up to her, hugging her tight, rubbing her back.

“What happened? Where’s Eddie? Is he hurt?” Richie asked practically shaking the woman out of her skin. He stopped immediately, knowing that Beverly did not like that.

“Quicksand! Eddie is trapped in quicksand!”

In a flash, Richie ran off into the woods. Ignoring warnings from the Losers, they followed him.

I’m coming, Eds. I’m coming!

---

Reaching his arm out to try to grab a stick that was sticking right out of the ground near the bog, it only broke the moment Eddie put weight on it.

Eddie sank past his hips. The quicksand was pulling him deeper into its grip. His heart continued to pound as he did everything to stay completely still. How did staying still help anything? You still sank. The mud slowly creeping up your body. Microscopic germs were probably crawling along his legs or into his pants for that matter.

Come on, Eds, you can do this, Stay calm!

Eddie sank well over his hips now, unable to move. Gross, this was one of his favorite shirts! Even breathing, he could still feel himself sinking. Remember Richie said. Your mind is stronger.

Did Richie even want to save him? Especially after breaking up with him. Was that really official? No, that was something he said out of anger. People never meant half of the things they said when they were angry.

Whimpering, Eddie made the smallest move just to look down the pathway. This one little movement caused him to sink to his chest in just a second. Yelping, Eddie flung his arms about, panicking, his breathing going frantic.

Richie, where was Richie? That morning they were cuddling as he brushed his curly black hair, they were happy. All he wanted him to do go to sleep which turned around in ar argument with Richie only trying to make Eddie smile with his usual humor.

Eddie shivered. The mud was cold the lower he sank. There was nothing holding him up below. It was becoming tougher to breathe with the thick muck pushing against his chest slowly pulling him in further. His shirt was getting filthy. Oh, that was the least of his worries!

Why would he ruin the best thing that ever happened to him?

Closing his eyes, Eddie waited for the end, sinking further.

“Eddie!” Richie screamed, screeching to a halt in the dirt, nearly falling into the mire.

Shivering from fear, and from how cold the mud was the deeper he sank, Eddie kept his arms lifted above his head like the time when they were wading through the sewer water. Eddie just sank over his chest making his arms hit the cold gooey surface.

“Richie...” Eddie whimpered, afraid to speak. Tears leaked out of his eyes.

“It’s okay, we’re going to get you out of there, Eds. Just breathe,” Richie told him gently. He turned to the Losers searching for a plan. Mike put his foot down very close to the edge of the bog only to sink it.

Without wasting any more time, Richie ordered the Losers to hold his legs, and he crawled on his stomach into the pit like a crocodile. Because he was laying flat, he didn’t sink. It smelled though. Now, he was closer to Eddie, only a foot apart.

“Eddie, grab my hands!” Richie told him, stretching his arms out to him.

Feeling his arms slowly getting pulled under, Eddie gasped, now that his neck was the only part of his body that was out of the mud. “I can’t...”

“You can! Eds, you can do anything! You’re so brave! I’m here right now, and I am not leaving. Sorry to face facts, but you’re stuck with me!” Richie smiled at him. “You can do it!”

Slowly, Eddie reached out and took Richie’s hands. The other Losers pulled Richie back until they were both safe on the hard surface.

“Are you okay?” Richie asked Eddie who was hysterically breathing. Richie helped him sit up, put his hoodie around Eddie’s shaking body. He kept his distance for a bit letting Eddie regain his composure. He just wanted to hug him. The other Losers kneeled down at a close distance themselves.

“Breathe, breathe, it’s okay,” Richie comforted the man, resting his hand on his cheek as Eddie coughed, half choking on air. Richie shooshed him, brushing his hair lightly. That always helped Eddie calm down. Once Eddie looked calmer, his breathing slowed down, Richie held his cold hands trying to warm them.

“Say something. Anything! Even if you just call me an asshole just say something,” Richie begged of him. This helped after one of them had a nightmare.

Eddie took a breath, looking into Richie’s eyes. “I’m okay.” He kept taking deep breaths.

Finally letting the tears spill out, Richie broke out into tears, holding his boyfriend close. He didn’t care that he was covered in mud. “Jesus, you’re okay! Fuck, why did I make you run off? I almost lost you once, damn it! You don’t deserve me...”

“Richie, you’re here,” Eddie smiled at him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

Richie met his eyes. “That’s right. I’m here,” Richie told him, putting their foreheads together. “I’m here, and I will never leave.”

“I love you, even though you’re an asshole,” Eddie giggled, hugging him tightly.

“Same. Except you stink.”

“Can we take a shower?”

“I’m down for that. Then I’ll sleep.

“Good.”

#Reddie #Reddie Fanfiction #It Fanfiction #It Chapter 2 #Richie tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #The Losers Club #Quicksand #Beverly Marsh #bill denbrough #Mike Hanlon #ben hanscom #Benverly

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