#i have been stuck on how to render the face of over 4 hours

[trash-art-central-blog]

It's so nice having an actual tablet now!

Hopefully, I will get a better grasp on it soon!

[modifiedmonster]

Part 7- II | II ~ Or read on AO3

Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 5 ☆ Part 6 ☆ Part 7

·Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist · Series Masterlist ·

♡Summary : Because of your boyfriend Megumis's mistake, you became the sought after prize of his criminal father Toji Fushiguro. However, what you never expected was to unearth certain secrets about the two men , and even yourself. ♡Word Count: 4,815 ♡Characters in this chapter : Toji, Megumi, Reader, Satoru Gojo ♡Warnings: 18+ MDNI ! Female reader, cheating, squirting, orgasm, toxicity , corruption kink, daddy k!nk, size k!nk, praise, fingering, toxicity, yandere behavior, PORN WITH A PLOT! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

♡Authors Note: I will eventually update the warnings section for each chapter but as of now it will remain the same. Please remember with is porn with a plot. ♡ IF YOU WANT TO BE IN THE TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES REPLY TO THIS AND LET ME KNOW OR PUT IT IN MY ASK BOX

[@breadbaker69, ]

 !! TRIGGER WARNING !! The following themes will be included from this point forward:Sex/blasphemy/dubious consent/death (of minor characters)/Drug use/Rape/etc If you have a history of drug use/rape, etc- this story may trigger you.

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT This is not a soft story. You have been warned. Begins below the cutt. 18+ — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

The sterile scent of antiseptic and other chemical cleaning agents clung to the air, it had replaced the metallic smell of blood. 

Those were the few things you noticed before the sharp pain entered your neck, the needle once again inserted.

"It's okay. Just go back to sleep" Megumi softly pled while his shaky thumb was pressing on the plunger to once again sedate you. 

Though this was his father's orders, he also didn't want you to see the fallout of your actions, the actions that wouldn't have come to fruition had he not lied to you in the first place. 

It was like warm milk as a child right before bed, the solution to render you unconscious. Over and over you were forced back into a state of dreamless sleep by Megumi, there was no use in fighting. 

You wouldn’t win. 

There was no evidence of how long you’d been stuck here, cuffed to the bed that had become your own personal prison. 

That sterile smell was no longer as pungent, it no longer burnt your nostrils as you took in a fresh breath. Megumi was lost in his own head replaying every memory since the day you met, trying to find a reason to be angry with you, but he couldn’t. 

You both had betrayed each other and now you were both in your own personally made, hand-crafted prisons. 

It took a few tries over a few minutes to open your eyes, no longer did your eyelids feel far too heavy to be held open. 

It took about as much time to realize that the familiar prick of the needle had seized, someone was allowing you to wake up, to become aware. No more blood was visible on your body, you seemed unscathed.

”My resentments begun to outweigh my love for you, Megumi-”  

The words came out raspy and cold as you stared at the back of your boyfriend's head. There he was sitting at the edge of the bed, your prison. 

“I know.” His lips found themselves pursed, thanking whatever higher power that you decided to make your admission while he wasn’t facing you. 

Over the course of nearly 27 hours, he had worked tirelessly with Toji and a few other associates to disassemble and dispose of Nobaras body, a few vials of blood specimens collected from her, and dental records destroyed.

Megumi had emptied his stomach more times than he could count, dehydration making him dizzy. The anger and hatred toward his father still couldn’t trump the love and admiration he held for you, the need to save you,  yet all of those emotions had begun to blend together. 

He was traumatized, in survival mode, and knew he couldn’t actually let you nor Toji find out his true emotions or intent. His father was a man capable of many things, how far would be too far when it comes to bringing this situation up to Toji?

The metal cuffs clinked as you rustled around atop the plush covers. Why did you not feel anything about having taken the life of your best friend? 

During the few seconds of silence following Megumi's reply, that was the only thought in your head. 

“Can you-... let me out?” And before Megumi had a chance to answer, Toji stepped into the room and cleared his throat, eyeing Megumi and then you before walking toward you.

"That depends, darling. Are you going to hurt Megumi?" The question seemed absurd, given your current vulnerable position, but deep down, it was the most rational question to ask.

"Not physically," there was hesitation in your voice, your eyes locked with Toji's, sharing an unspoken understanding of the severity of the situation. There was a moment of what felt like a standoff, of intimidation between the two of you, a silent agreement that spoke volumes.

Toji knew you were cut out for this, he knew a lot more about you than your mind could conceive.

The dark and hungry feeling of your eyes shifted towards Megumi as Toji inserted the key into the locks, freeing you from your restraints. You winced as you moved, feeling the ache and burning sensation of circular bruises that marred all four of your limbs. 

Both Toji and Megumi eyed you with intrigue and slight concern as you couldn't help but grunt in pain as you rubbed the indents, realizing that no amount of rubbing would soothe the lingering discomfort.

"I know you're still foggy," Toji spoke softly, sitting close to you, closer than Megumi dared. He reached up and tenderly tucked away the loose strands of your hair, his touch gentle yet commanding. "But we have a plane to catch. Let's call it a vacation."

Your gaze shifted from Megumi's restless fingers with a slow blink, and your thick lashes fluttered back open, your attention now fixed on the smirk that adorned Toji's lips. 

Toji had recalibrated his plans, redirecting them from Megumi towards you. He had recognized your natural skill, the inherent talent you possessed.

In his eyes, you were a natural-born killer, possessing traits that harmonized with his own, making you the ideal candidate to not only carry on his legacy.

The traits you carried would blend well with his own to create the perfect heir to his dynasty. Sure there were obstacles in the way, but he had you now and there was no way Toji would let you escape him.

★・・・★

Half a day had passed since you found yourself on a plane for the first time in your life. Neither of you bothered to pay attention to the other men who had boarded and joined Toji in a separate room. 

Megumi's brows furrowed, creating creases on his forehead that revealed the complex emotions swirling within him. Across the cabin, his stare met yours, locked in a silent exchange of mixed feelings. 

This little game between you and Megumi had been going on for hours, with Toji observing your every move from a separate room on the company jet's video monitors.

The tension was palpable as you sat at the braced wooden table, your palm idly gliding across its surface, while the glass in your other hand tilted to your mouth, the intensity of your gaze unnerving Megumi. 

The cloudy sake cascaded over the ice cubes, its bitterness seeping into your throat as the engines roared louder, signifying the plane's ascent.

As the private jet soared through the sky, your outrageously expensive red-bottom heels tapped against the plush carpet beneath you, the hushed thuds adding an air of anticipation.

The flip in your stomach prompted you to hastily consume the last drop of the bitter alcohol, the ice pressing against your crimson lipstick, leaving a tingling sensation.

Earlier that day, you had been attended to by a woman who bathed you, styled your hair, and dressed you in an ensemble that cost more than your car.

Toji had made sure that an entire wardrobe was meticulously packed and brought onto the plane, further illustrating the opulence that now surrounded you.

It was in the moment when the corners of Megumi's mouth turned upward that the glass in your hand was abruptly whipped in his direction, shattering against the wall beside his head. Fragments of glass rained down, some landing on his shirt, a testament to the mounting tension between the two of you.

Toji's sudden emergence from the room sent a jolt of unease through the cabin. His eyes flickered with a mix of calculation and satisfaction as he glanced at both of you. 

There was no need for him to inquire about what had transpired; he had been watching, observing every move.

Tojis forest green eyes narrowed at Megumi briefly before moving and set on you, his brow raising just slightly along with the corner of his mouth. The teeth in your mouth were grinding against each other while his were visible in a clearly entertained grin. 

Megumi felt as if his heart had just gotten hooked on the edge of his rib when his father chuckled a bit, watching his deliberate and unsettling calm stride towards you.

Tojis thumb and pointer fingers hooked under your chin, directing your gaze to meet his intense stare. His eyes ran up and down your entire form, taking in the sight before he leaned in closer.

Fuck you were perfect. 

 “Be a good girl for now , okay?” It was less of a question than an order. Something about it made you strive to please him, earlier in the day he had informed you that he was going to be training you during the ‘vacation’ anyways.

“I think I can manage that , Sensei.” Tojis pupils grew larger at your tantalizing response. You were doing so well, maybe he wouldn’t have to resort to other methods.

Without hesitation, Toji pressed his lips against yours, the kiss starting with a deceptive tenderness before igniting a fierce passion that consumed the space between you. The intensity of the kiss left you breathless as if he was devouring the very air from your lungs, leaving you breathless and craving more.

 A depraved moan left your throat when Toji broke the kiss, his lips hovering near yours, eyes locked with yours.

Toji had made sure that Megumi would be getting the best view.

“Go get someone to clean this up, Megumi” 

His firm words reverberated into your mouth, sending chills down your spine. You knew Megumi well enough to sense the heat rising in his face. He felt a mix of embarrassment and frustration. 

Unable to tear his gaze away from the scene unfolding before him, his fists involuntarily clenched at his sides. With a strained throat clearing, he stood up, silently acknowledging his father's command, and made his way to find someone to attend to the shattered glass.

‘He deserves this. He deserves this.’ You repeated in your head as Megumi left the room.

 Toji effortlessly lifted your body onto the table, his strong arms supporting you as if you weighed nothing. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, pulling you closer to him, while your legs found their place around his hips. The proximity between you intensified a physical connection that mirrored the underlying power dynamics at play.

The deep crimson hue of your maxi dress hugged your figure in all the right places, accentuating your curves with an undeniable allure. It matched the shade of your perfectly applied lipstick, a testament to your meticulous attention to detail. 

This was one of the qualities that Toji admired in you—the way you always made a conscious effort to present yourself flawlessly. And now, under his guidance, he would ensure that you were adorned with even more luxury and refinement.

“As much as i’d love to absolutely ravage you right here ,-” Toji pressed kisses to your neck , careful to avoid the bruises and needle holes on your neck.

“- I’d prefer to take my time with you and this is a short flight, Princess.” 

The air crackled with tension and anticipation as Toji held you close, his grip possessive yet protective.

“That's not fair.” The tips of your freshly manicured nails dug into his neck as you began to pout, and he couldn’t help but cock a brow in amusement.

“It’s hot when you talk back” Tojis's hand dipped down your inner thigh, between your parted legs to grab ahold of the thin, lacey panties you wore. Swiftly they were pulled down and skilled fingers made contact with your clit effortlessly, a breath pulled from you. 

“So wet..” Toji wore a devious smirk, his free hand tugged your panties all the way off and tucked them in his shirt pocket. 

“M’gonna be keeping these, and your thighs are shaking so much, princess. Be good and relax for me, I promise i’ll make it up later.”  Toji simultaneously gave each of your plush outer thighs a squeeze before your attention was quickly diverted as a familiar face caught your eye. It was the older woman who had attended to you earlier, the one who had taken care of your bathing and grooming.

“Mr Fushiguro, theres a call for you.” Toji deadpanned when his name was called by a familiar voice, one that made you feel nearly sick. Of course, Satoru would be here. Now. And likely knew what had transpired between you and Nobara. 

Your mind was reeling, and you couldn't help but wonder how you hadn't noticed the others boarding the plane. The games of revenge with Megumi had consumed your focus, blurring your perception of reality. Or maybe the drugs? ; Most likely a combination of both.

Toji turned his gaze back to you, his hand sliding up your back to rest at the nape of your neck. He gave a gentle squeeze, a silent reassurance. Before he broke away, he placed one last deep kiss on your lips, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"Relax for now, my princess. We'll be in Kyoto in just a few minutes," Toji whispered, his voice laced with a mixture of comfort and anticipation. He gave you a knowing wink, and a forced grin formed on your lips as you glanced toward the doorframe.

And there he was, Gojo, peeking around with his smuggest smirk and a phone in hand, a clear sense of mischief in his eyes. The situation was becoming even more complicated and surreal.

After Toji rounded the corner and closed the door with Gojo, the older woman briefly inspected you before heading off in the same direction with the cleaning supplies. The sense of being watched pervaded the air, the black lenses of the cameras positioned in the corners serving as a constant reminder of the scrutiny surrounding you.

Your hands trembled slightly, urging you to hop down from the table and smooth out your dress. The need to escape the prying eyes pushed you towards the bathroom, which happened to be on the opposite side of the plane. You hurriedly made your way, almost tripping in your haste, until you reached the sanctuary of the bathroom. With a loud snap, the folding door closed behind you.

Sweaty palms pressed against the door, and your chest heaved rapidly as anxiety consumed you. You didn't think it could get any worse, but then you felt arms wrapping around you, a large hand covering your mouth.

The suddenness of the gesture sent shockwaves through your body, and you froze, except for the rapid rise and fall of your breathing.

"Shh, Y/N, please don't freak out. We just need to talk," Megumi's hushed voice filled the confined space. Your entire being tensed, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Watery eyes met Megumi's as he turned you around to face him, his own eyes bloodshot, a telltale sign of tears shed—probably from crying, undoubtedly from crying.

Staring at Megumi, the anger bubbling up within you as his words sank in. A dirty look was cast his way, a mix of shock and frustration etched onto your features. What the hell was he thinking? How could he expect you to trust him after everything that had happened?

"Nod your head if you'll be quiet," he pleaded, voice growing louder with a sense of urgency. Reluctantly, you nodded, signaling your compliance. He slowly removed his hand from your mouth, allowing you to speak, but your wariness remained.

"Y/N, please, I don't give a shit if you slit my throat right here, but at least let me explain what happened... with Nobara and with my dad," Megumi pleaded desperately, his voice filled with raw emotion.

”You don’t get whats gonna happen over the next few weeks..” The gravity of the situation was evident in his words, but given the recent events and the tangled web of deceit, it was natural for you to question whether you should trust him now.

"Megumi, you cheated on me with my best friend," you retorted, your anger and hurt spilling over. Your fists clenched tightly, and Megumi's grip on your forearms tightened. Beads of sweat formed along his hairline, reflecting the intensity of the moment.

"For months," you added, the bitterness in your voice seeping through. The mere thought of him betraying you with your closest confidante caused an involuntary recoil, as you tried to pull away from him. But then, Megumi's words took a sharp turn, shocking you to your core. 

"You fucked my dad, gave him your virginity, and even relapsed," he fired back, the words biting with a mix of anger and pain. Audibly drawing a breath through his nose, he attempted to regain control of his emotions. "I... I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice laced with remorse.

Megumi's apology hung in the air, his words heavy with regret and remorse. You could see the pain etched on his face, mirroring the turmoil within your own heart. Despite the hurt and anger that consumed you, a part of you couldn't help but acknowledge the sincerity in his voice.

Silence filled the small bathroom, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths. The weight of the situation settled upon you both, the truth laid bare and impossible to ignore. It was a moment of reckoning, where the choices made and the consequences faced collided in a collision of emotions.

Finally, you found the strength to speak, your words escaping in a fragile whisper. "Megumi... I don't know how to process all of this. We both messed up," you confessed, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

The pain of betrayal mingled with the remnants of love and the fragments of a bond that had once seemed unbreakable. "I... I killed her, and it felt... so easy."

Megumi's gaze softened as he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his touch causing you to wince ever so slightly. "I understand. But listen... just do whatever my dad tells you to do. Go with it, you have the natural talent for it anyways." he replied, his voice carrying a mix of sorrow and determination.

"I know I can't change the past, but I want to make things right. I want to earn back your trust, no matter how long it takes. To keep you alive and as safe as possible." There was a flicker of hope in his eyes, though his voice wavered slightly at the last sentence.

"In Kyoto, we'll be going to a private estate owned by the Fushiguro and Zenin families. Toji found something in you that he has been searching for, and it's not just about your looks, babe," Megumi explained, his voice filled with a mixture of uncertainty and significance.

"You're about to start training to take my place in the organization."

In that moment, the gravity of your situation began to weigh heavily upon you. Training to take Megumi's place? What was his role supposed to be? The memories of the night of Nobara's death were hazy as if veiled by a fog that clouded your thoughts.

A deep breath did little to alleviate the weight on your chest.

"Megumi, what was your intended role?" you asked with hesitation, your words laden with the weight of curiosity and trepidation. As a ding resonated through the entire vessel, signaling the plane's descent, the pressure in the room seemed to increase, amplifying the tension that filled the air.

The bathroom door swung open, ushering in a gust of cold air that grazed the exposed skin on your back, concealed by the fabric of your dress. You watched as Megumi's gaze drifted past you, his grip on your arms loosening.

"Hey, Megumi, whatcha doin here with my favorite girl?" Satoru's voice rang with false cheerfulness, his presence disrupting the fragile peace that had settled between you and Megumi. The danger that loomed over you intensified, fueling your curiosity about the secrets they held, the truths they concealed. The answer you were about to receive from Megumi was now left only to your imagination.

"Don't fucking touch me," you snapped, elbowing Gojo forcefully in the ribs as he attempted to drape his arm over your shoulders. Despite your resistance, he managed to grab hold of your hair, leaning in closer while catching his breath.

"Just sit down before Toji sees this. Consider it a favor, and remember it," Gojo whispered beside your ear, his cerulean eyes locked with Megumi. 

A seemingly calm Megumi could only watch as your face turned blank like a mirror, allowing Gojo to guide you back to your seat, positioning himself across the table from you. Megumi followed close behind and retook his previous seat, now clean from the mess of your rage.

As the plane descended toward Kyoto, a sense of anticipation filled the air, mingling with a touch of nervousness. The engines hummed in a steady rhythm, echoing the rhythm of your own racing heart.

The cabin door swung open, and Toji stepped into the space, emanating a commanding presence. The atmosphere shifted, the weight of his stature palpable. Megumi's eyes redirected to peer out the window avoiding the sight of his father joining them, emotions a mix of surprise and intrigue. 

Toji's gaze met yours, a hint of affection and concern flickering in his eyes. A gentle smile curved his lips, softening his typically stoic expression. There was a glass in his hand, your favorite pineapple sake inside. Toji placed it in front of you with a clink before taking a seat across from you, right beside Satoru.

“It’s your favorite.” Toji encouraged with a toothy grin. “But you need to drink all of it right now .” There was a sudden bump as the plane made contact with the runway, you gasped. The perfect distraction for you to shoot Megumi a glance, one he would recognize as you asking for his opinion . His eyes closed in disdain as he nodded his head to signal yes.

“Thank you so much, Toji...Sensei.”  His cock twitched and you bowed a bit before your hand clasped the glass, you guzzled down the drink as quickly as possible. Before setting it down you caught a glance of a white powder thinly pasted on the bottom.

Fuck, you had finally sobered up off these drugs. The plan was to arrive in Kyoto with a clear head.

Toji's expression turned serious once he saw you break the poker face you’d been upholding so well, his gaze piercing through you. 

"It's a necessary precaution, my dear," he replied, his tone calm yet tinged with an air of secrecy. 

"The substance in the drink will help you calm down and get rest for the activities during our time in Kyoto." Toji rubbed the back of his neck, Megumi just sighed to himself; he really hoped you could handle what you were about to endure.

With remarkable swiftness, the drug took effect, causing your vision to swiftly blur. Toji gently lifted your limp form and settled you in a nearby vehicle, placing your head upon Megumi's lap. However, to Megumi's dismay, Satoru unexpectedly joined the two of you in the backseat. 

The endeavor to carefully arrange your partially unconscious body across the two men within the moving vehicle proved to be more challenging than anticipated, causing a tinge of frustration to seep through their façade.

Just as Megumi began to find solace in the unsettling situation, a grin etched its way across his face as he felt the gentle nuzzling of your head against his lap. Oh, how he yearned to turn back time, to snatch you away from this wicked fate before your innocence could be further violated.

Intermittently, the sound of Toji indulging in his vices, sniffing cocaine, reverberated through the car. Gojo, unable to resist, would occasionally peek up to indulge in a bump himself, prompting Megumi to roll his eyes in exasperation yet deciding to join in.

Lost in his own contemplations, Megumi's fingers tenderly caressed your cheek, his eyes capturing every detail that passed by outside the car's window. Meanwhile, Gojo, seeking his own twisted amusement, dared to explore further. His hand trailed up and down your leg before daringly slipping beneath your dress.

‘Oh, no panties. How delightful.’ Gojo thought, his lip caught between his teeth, his gaze darting between Toji and Megumi to ensure he wasn't caught in the act. Oblivious to the vile scene unfolding, Toji remained engrossed in typing on his laptop, indulging in copious amounts of drugs.

All seemed to progress according to plan until a sweet groan escaped your lips, causing your back to arch involuntarily and your face to scrunch up in pleasure. 

Toji and Megumi's heads whipped around, alarmed to find you still partially unconscious. Satoru, quick and cunning, managed to withdraw his hand just in time to evade detection.

“Maybe i’ll share this little beauty with you if you Fix. The. Problem.” Emphasis stated on those words, but Megumi wasn’t focused on that . 

Instead, his attention diverted to the fact that his father was speaking as if you had no choice; and he knew you didn't , you were going to be going through hell mentally and physically over the next few weeks.

“Yes , Sir.” Megumi cleared his throat after speaking , the car coming to a halt at the front of the manor.

After roughly 15 minutes, the car arrived at its destination, pulling up to imposing gates that concealed most of the grand manor behind them. Despite its remote location, the place was heavily guarded, its 10-foot-tall fencing a testament to the fortifications in place.

In an attempt to rouse you, Megumi pinched at your cheek, desiring your increased alertness as the vehicle approached the opened gate. Swiftly, the gate closed, sealing you within the confines of this mysterious domain.

A muffled protest escaped your lips as Megumi persisted in his efforts to wake you. Toji, deadpan and observant, intervened.

"Knock it the fuck off. I don't think you want her hearing what I'm about to tell you," Toji snapped at Megumi, biting his words with severity as he forcefully closed his laptop.

“The blood analysis I had run on Nobara revealed she was pregnant…early, but knocked up nonetheless. Megumi you should be thanking your lucky goddamn stars that Y/N solved that issue for you, for us.” Toji pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose after sniffing another line, meanwhile, Gojo stared at Megumi with a look of shock on his face.

"The problem is that her mother was aware of the pregnancy, and now their daughter is missing," Toji grumbled in frustration. In Toji's eyes, this presented an opportunity for Megumi to prove his worth and involvement in the family business.

“Maybe i’ll share this little beauty with you if you Fix. The. Problem.” Words emphasized. However, Megumi's attention shifted. He realized his father was disregarding your agency, knowing full well that you had no say in the matter. Mentally and physically, you were destined to endure torment in the coming weeks. 

“Be warned that if you fail, there will be punishment.”

"Yes, Sir," Megumi cleared his throat, acknowledging his father's command, as the car came to a halt at the front of the foreboding manor.

Servants swarmed around the vehicles, attending to your car and the two behind it. Toji , Gojo, and Megumi opened their respective doors, but Toji blocked Megumi from exiting, claiming his own intentions.

"I'll be taking what's mine, son," Toji stated, raising an eyebrow before swiftly lifting you from the car, cradling you in his arms in a bridal fashion. As your drowsy eyes fluttered open, you caught a glimpse of the sun's orange hue before refocusing on Toji.

"We're here, bunny." Toji cooed to you, carrying you inside while disregarding any stray greetings. The air turned noticeably colder as he descended the stairs to the first level of the basement, consciousness wavered in and out, only beginning to fully awaken as you felt the softest blanket beneath your body.

Amidst the commotion, Toji was occupied with instructing others on where to place various suitcases and luggage, oblivious to your awakening. As you sat up as slung your legs over the side of the bed, your eyes widened in astonishment as you surveyed the room around you. 

Toji’s guard wasn’t down in the slightest when he walked over and stood next to the bed, your legs hanging off the bed.

“Oh, baby, you’re drooling everywhere.” Toji laughed after noticing, his thumb moved down to swipe the fluid from your chin and lip. Though he was surprised when your lips obediently parted for him.

"You'll wake up more in a bit," Toji continued, glancing down at his watch. 

"or at least, I hope you do, because we have training to attend to, and it's REALLY gonna suck for you if you can't pay attention, princess." The smirk Toji directed your way started to align with what Megumi had been trying to warn you about.

★・・・★

➜PART 8 ~ COMING SOON

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© ModifiedUchiha 2023 ★♡Please don't copy , paste , or plagiarize my works . Feel free to use them for inspiration , but give credit .♡★

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None for this chap Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Sure, your soulmate may be a vampire (of sorts), but there's nothing that love can't conquer, right?... Maybe it's time you learn a little more about the odd circumstances of your soulmate's existence- and the fear that lies beneath the surface. Notes: If the last chapter was "hurt" followed by comfort, this is "comfort" followed by hurt, also known as the part where the story's central conflict comes into play. Features an appearance from Daniela, who reminds us that Cassandra's not the only one with a sharp tongue around here. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands, 3: Rumbling Thunder

4: That Which Burns

“Of all the stars, the fairest,” Bela murmurs in your ear, keeping her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, before giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek. If you hadn’t already been blushing, you certainly would have now done so. You’re leaning into her touch, face flushed as can be, loving every moment of this. For a while now you’ve been curled up with her, while she reads excerpts from her favorite works. Although both of you would have preferred to do this outside, enjoying the view of the stars, you figured it would be best not to push your health too much. After all, you had lost a huge percentage of your blood. Well, temporarily, but it was still better to be safe than sorry.

“That’s probably my favorite line from Sappho,” you chimed, fondly remembering some of your schooling. “Though the one about being remembered always stands out to me. I’m not sure I remember it correctly, and I’m sure it’s been translated a few different ways over the years… but I think it’s ‘someone, I tell you, will remember us in another time’. Might have gotten that backwards, actually.” Giving an awkward little smile, you sheepishly rub the back of your head with one hand. “Either way it feels so romantic. To think of a love so strong that it echoes throughout time, fondly remembered for generations… it warms the heart.”

“Mhmm, most definitely, my dear. Many aren’t as lucky, however,” Bela laments, an odd expression crawling onto her face. There’s the slightest waver to her lower lip as she speaks. Concerned, you turn in place to get a better look, gently reaching out to caress her cheek. Is there something I’m missing? You think, wondering what you should say. “I’m alright, I promise. Merely distracted by a fleeting thought. Let’s read another, yes?” Before you can protest, she’s already turned to another page, starting to read as if she already knew which one was next (which would not, at all, surprise you).

Love shook my heart, Like the wind on the mountain, Troubling the oak-trees

“Oh, if only I could speak Aeolic Greek, so that I could serenade you with tender prose, all the days of your life… just as it was originally written. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Bela offers, once again smiling wide, as if nothing in the world was wrong, at least not when you were by her side. Though you are not keen to ignore her earlier stroke of misery, you are equally reluctant to put a damper on her current upswing. Now what were you to do? Little comes to mind, other than the simplicity of human warmth, and so you lean once more into her embrace, head held aloft on the strength of her shoulder.

“Here, as I am now, is more than lovely enough. Your voice is soothing in any language, sweet as sugar, relaxing as can be,” you reassure her in your softest tone. Heart fluttering, she finds herself easing back into the comfort of the moment, forgetting all about her earlier woes. “Shall we read another?” Nodding, Bela again turns the page and begins to read:

He’s equal with the gods, that man Who sits across from you, Face to face, close enough to sip Your voice’s sweetness

And what excites my mind, Your laughter, glittering. So, When I see you, for a moment, My voice goes,

My tongue freezes. Fire, Delicate fire, in the flesh. Blind, stunned, the sound Of thunder, in my ears.

Shivering with sweat, cold Tremors over the skin, I turn the colour of dead grass, And I’m an inch from dying.

“Does that make me equal to the gods, then?” You ask, as soon as the last line is given its moment to shine. A small hum comes from your soulmate, who seems equal parts intrigued and confused. “I look in your eyes and my lungs light on fire, my heart ricochets around my chest, and I hear the chorus of angels singing your holy praises. The fact that I can manage to speak at all is confounding. Maybe the muses have seen fit to lend me their artistry, so that I might make conversation worthy of your existence, my dear.” With that said, you find yourself being squeezed gently, Bela placing another kiss against the top of your head. Now, it seems she is the one without the ability to speak. “The divine witnessing the divine, yes?... Let me read the next one, and we’ll see if my voice could ever compare to your own.”

It’s innocent enough, your choice. A turn of the page, just another poem, selected for nothing more than respect for chronology. Yet something drains from the space around you as you begin to read, so subtly slow that you hardly notice.

Girls, you be ardent for the fragrant-blossomed Muses’ lovely gifts, for the clear melodious lyre: But now old age has seized my tender body, Now my hair is white, and no longer dark

How were you to realize that the great shadow of fear loomed over your soulmate, when she had refused to name it mere minutes ago? How were you to know to halt your reciting, when the aching of her heart rendered her throat dry, and she could not bring herself to call out to you? Words poured like poisoned wine from your lips… your soulmate having no choice but to drink up every last drop.

My heart’s heavy, my legs won’t support me, That once were fleet as fawns, in the dance I grieve often for my state; what can I do? Being human, there’s no way not to grow old

A shaky breath from age-old lungs, exhaled into tense air, forced out past a trembling jaw. Say something, Bela tells herself, any poem but this. For a split second you pause, and she wonders if her thoughts have found new light in your own mind. But you break the momentary silence without much care, simply having been unsure of your pending pronunciation of an old name, perfectly unaware of your partner’s panic.

Rosy-armed Dawn, they say, love-smitten Once carried Tithonus off to the world’s end: Handsome and young he was then, yet at last Grey age caught that spouse of an immortal wife

At last her ordeal was over. The final words hang heavy in the air, weighing down her shoulders, but they are done. Her fears had been dragged out from the pit in her stomach, now waving about like dirty laundry. There was only one way for her to avoid this happening another time: Tell you the truth. By now her silence had earned your attention, with you turning in her lap again, concerned gaze meeting her hollow one. Gently, she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I… am not one to balk at the nature of things, however painful the truth. Yet I hesitate now, with the very person I am bound to with crimson ties… How cowardly of me,” Bela all but snarls, anger clearly not directed at you. It’s clear in the way that she holds herself that she has more to say. There’s not much you can do other than wait, though you do tuck an arm around her waist, beginning to rub soft circles against her back. “Allow me to drop the pretenses. You are not immortal, but I am. We’ve only been together for a day and a half, and already I’m worrying about your lifespan. It’s safe to say that this particular poem was an unfriendly reminder of our situation.”

Oh. How exactly were you supposed to respond to that?... Your girlfriend- your soulmate- was immortal. Hmph, as if her essentially being a vampire hadn’t already been enough to freak you out. Now this? Well, maybe it wasn’t too much farther of a stretch from the last revelation, even if you were still recovering from that one. Even then, something told you that this was equally hard for Bela- both to say, and to simply feel. As if she needed more stress surrounding her partnership with you…

“Of all the ways for us to mimic legends… I don’t even know what to say, my dear. I… I suppose that I can only reassure you that we will make the most of every moment we have. However much time we are destined to get, we’ll make sure it is filled with bliss,” you reply, slowly, making it up as you go. An ache builds in the center of your chest as you talk, an internal yearning for greater confidence. Although words were your “weapon” of choice, you were not always a master in your use of them, too human to be infallible. “Maybe we should set aside the poetry for now, shift our focus to something, ah, less meaningful?”

“That would be for the best,” Bela agrees, already shifting like she was going to stand up, before you even had a chance to get off of her lap. Something strange had fallen over her expression, an invisible veil, putting an uncomfortable distance between the two of you. Inside your chest, a thundering heart threatens to go still. Had you done something wrong? Did you commit some unspoken sin? Together the two of you rise, in sync yet more separate than before, a thousand questions and anxieties rendering both of you silent...

—————————

Across the room from you, a pair of bright eyes watch your every movement, peering out from over an open book. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought that the “ruse” was intentionally poor. But for all the five hours you had known her, Daniela Dimitrescu had done nothing other than prove herself odd, clumsy, and quite possibly… overconfident. Admittedly, that still made her undeniably more pleasant than Cassandra. If you had to be stuck alongside someone other than your soulmate, well, ‘twas best that it was this strange redheaded gremlin. Even if she had expressed an unfortunate interest in eating you.

Gods, what is wrong with this family? You think, frowning a tad, unable to stop yourself from making eye contact with Daniela. Instantly she’s looking away, pretending to be engrossed within her book. The very same book that had remained open to the same page for half an hour now. I do hope Bela is having more fun right now, with whatever “business” called her away so unexpectedly. She hadn’t seemed happy to have to leave your side, earlier tension notwithstanding. Coming here to the library had been her suggestion, though you doubted she knew that Daniela was there, or at least hadn’t anticipated her sister’s unnerving behavior. Already the redhead was looking back at you, even less subtly than before.

Sighing, you decided that you could only put up with so much of this tomfoolery.

“Are you in need of something? Or is there something on my face?” You ask, setting your own book aside as you do. There’s a few moments of silence, as Daniela glances around the room, as if you might actually be speaking to someone else. When no scapegoats teleport to her rescue, she very awkwardly clears her throat, then moves to sit at your table. Though you are loath to admit it, your heart starts beating faster as she approaches. Not out of attraction, hell no, rather fear. Perhaps getting her attention hadn’t been the wisest choice after all…

“I just think it’s funny,” Daniela chimes, trailing off just long enough to run a finger down the length of your arm, “that Bela abandoned you so quickly. You’re so… fragile. Cassandra told me about the fun little introduction you had to our family- the blood loss, being chained up, the fear you felt when you got caught in our territory.” Suddenly she’s devolving into a fit of giggles, hand resting not-so-gently on your wrist. When you try to pull away, her nails dig in, and her gaze snaps back to your own. “But you don’t remember that part, do you? If you did… oh, we’d have to lock you up, like the little pet you are, to keep you from running away. I’m sure Bela wouldn’t mind seeing you in chains.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You snap, uncharacteristically furious. While it was true that you couldn’t recall exactly how you made it into the castle’s dungeons, you refuse to accept Daniela’s implications about your soulmate, or her assessment of your dedication. A brief second passes where you think she’s about to lunge towards you. Instead, she withdraws her hand, moving it to prop up her chin instead. Then, her lips slowly drag upwards into a wicked grin, wide eyes filled with dangerous amusement.

“So you’re more than a wannabe Shakespeare, after all? A bit more teeth, a touch more vulgarity, maybe a twinge of bloodlust, and you might actually fit in around here. Not enough to get our family’s ‘gift’- our secret to a long, happy life- but enough that Bela won’t grow bored of your sappy poems,” she teases with another string of laughter. Before you can question her about this ‘gift’, she’s all but jumping to her feet, stretching out her arms as she does. “I can’t wait to update Cassandra about you. We’ll be betting on how entertaining you’ll end up being. Try to keep from bailing on my dear sister too soon, alright?”

Just like that she’s disappearing into a swarm of flies, leaving you more confused (and angry) than ever. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on what you need to do next: Find Bela. Talk to her. Get some goddamn answers.

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Essential Saltes Ch. 3/6: Dunwich

Three times he chants the invocation.

Three times nothing happens.

He smashes both fists on the altar, screaming in frustration.

It’s right, he knows it’s right—

There’s nothing to smash, no table to flip. All he can do is beat at the altar, shrieking in frustration, until he collapses with exhaustion.

xuexiao - M - Ch. 1  Ch. 2  Ch. 4 - AO3

Chapter 3: Dunwich

Xue Yang watches Xingchen’s young companion—Tim? Jim?—disappear down the street.

Finally. 

The boy had stuck to Xiao Xingchen like an oafish blond limpet for the past two days, and Xue Yang was starting to get bored.

Xue Yang raps on the door, tipping his hat at the shriveled old woman who answers.

“I’m Mr. Xiao’s friend,” he tells her, bowing with old-world grace he knows she’ll appreciate. “Is he at home?”

She practically drags him inside the once-stately old house and starts in on the gossip with no prompting as she leads him up to the attic.

“I don’t know what happened,” she tells him. “Something dreadful, to injure both young men so seriously. Mr. Xiao is upstairs now, but Mr. Song hasn’t returned from Vermont. A horrendous misfortune. The funny thing is, Mr. Xiao seemed fine when I last saw him. Shaken up, a bit bruised, but not…” She adjusts her pince-nez as if afraid to say the word "blind" aloud.

“Truly a terrible tragedy.”

She cups her hand to her ear. “I beg your pardon, young man?”

“A terrible tragedy,” he repeats into her ear.

“Indeed.” The old woman glances at his lame leg. “You weren’t part of the incident, were you?”

Xue Yang chuckles, bullet wounds throbbing. The memory of the manic look on Xingchen’s face as he had fired at the Elder Thing makes the sensation almost pleasurable. “Oh, no, ma’am. A mere hunting accident.”

Shaking her head, she raps on the garret door. “Mr. Xiao? Are you still awake? You have a visitor.”

“Not right now, Mrs. Dombrowski.”

How dare he sound so calm!

“He shouldn’t be alone right now," Mrs. Dombrowski whispers in a conspiratorial voice that could be heard in China. "His young companion should be home in about an hour. Go right in, Mr…I don't believe I caught your name?”

Another courtly little bow. “Chengmei, ma'am.”

Mrs. Dombrowski opens the door. “Go right in, Mr. Chengmei.”

Xue Yang closes the heavy oak door behind him and settles against the wood. The room is dark, the blue crescent moon the sole light, but it’s enough to see by. The room is something from a long-distant century, the sloping ceiling, crooked walls, rickety table and chairs all straight out of the 1600s.

Sitting at the table, a barely-touched dinner before him, is Xiao Xingchen, dressed only in a collarless shirt, trousers, dressing gown, and his ever-present necklace.

And a pair of tinted spectacles.

“Who’s there? Jim?”

Xue Yang doesn’t respond, relishing the hesitancy in Xingchen’s voice where there had never been doubt before. One of the things that had first drawn him to the would-be doctor was his quiet confidence in his own abilities and the way he didn’t care what other people thought of him.

That and the glimpse he’d seen of the talisman he wears around his neck.

Melancholy renders Xingchen’s voice barely audible. “Is it someone from the university? Jim? Are you back?”

“Jim is not back,” says Xue Yang, “and he won’t be for quite some time.”

He grins as horror spreads across Xingchen’s face. “Xue—” His voice cracks. “Xue Yang?”

“Who else?” Xue Yang limps over to the window, the floor creaking under his feet. There’s an ornate old revolver on the windowsill, white and silver barrel gleaming in the moonlight. “How have you been, doctor? Not quite cricket, leaving me for dead, was it?”

“I—I—”

“I know, I know.” Xue Yang leans out the window, taking in the view of the river and distant sea. He feels powerful, as if he can see across the ocean. “Mother Zichen comes first.”

The scrape of a chair. “You killed Mr. Chang and released that monster,” Xingchen says, “and you expected me to have endangered Zichen to help you?”

Xue Yang grips the windowsill so hard the brittle wood almost splinters beneath his fingers.

Xingchen isn’t sad.

He’s angry.

The good doctor, angry at him—! After he’d left him to die in the vaults—

Forcing himself under control, he turns. Xingchen is standing beside the table, his pale gray dressing gown making him look even taller and thinner than usual, like the ghost of a beautiful young man who had starved to death. He���s in need of a haircut, thick black hair framing his gaunt, moon-white face.

Rather like a half-mad Victorian poet, Xue Yang thinks.

I can make it more than half…

He stretches out on what he guesses is Xingchen’s bed, making enough noise to ensure the blind doctor hears this little violation, and wonders how many people have died on this mattress over the years. Dozens, he'd bet. He likes old beds. They have history.

“I’m fine, by the way,” he tells Xingchen, taking a pocketwatch from his suit jacket and tossing it in the air, “in case that’s been keeping you awake nights. Limping, but fine. While we're on the subject, I don't appreciate the bullet you put in my leg, but I’ll acknowledge that it was an accident.”

"I was aiming at the creature. What was it?”

“About time you asked, doctor. So much for scientific curiosity.”

“I’d prefer to forget it. It was…evil.”

“Evil?” Xue Yang clicks his tongue, swinging the watch around his finger by the chain. “That sounds more like Mother Zichen than the words of a scientist. Besides, there is no such thing as good and evil, you ought to have figured that out by now."

"That would be what you believe."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Only someone with no morals of values could have done what you did to Mr. Chang."

Xue Yang grits his teeth. "I was cleared by the police!"

"So you deny it?"

"Of course I do. But I stand by the fact that so-called good and evil mean nothing to those from the Outside, and shouldn't to us. Just useless man-made conventions invented to keep great minds in check! Look at the great innovators of history. You think any of them cared for convention?”

“That creature was evil,” says Xiao Xingchen, ignoring his outburst. “I know what I felt.”

“And science and medicine are about what people feel. Got it.”

Xingchen stiffens, and Xue Yang laughs. The good doctor has always been easy to wind up, though until now Xue Yang had preferred to be the one to calm him down.

“No offense meant, of course. I’m sure you’re an excellent doctor, despite recent evidence to the contrary.”

Xingchen is suddenly tranquil again. “Well, either magic and monsters are real, or I’ve gone mad,” he says mildly, and takes his tinted glasses off.

Xue Yang's heart skips a beat at the sight of the his shrunken eyelids, the skin falling inward in the absence of Xingchen's eyeballs. Deep purple bruises mar the ivory skin around his eyes sockets, with tiny blue veins branching out from the darkened skin.

What he deserves...

Xue Yang lets the bed springs creak again. "Have you considered that both options might be true?”

“What do you want, Xue Yang? Why did you come here?”

“To visit my old friend in a time of need.”

Xingchen replaces his spectacles. They're quaintly old-fashioned, as if Miss Baoshen had dug them up from a past century. “You blinded Song Lan.”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “I knew you’d throw that in my face.” Xingchen can’t see him, but Xue Yang lays a hand on his heart. “I give you my solemn word I didn’t know what was in that urn or what it would do to Mother Zichen.”

“You swear?”

“I swear. I meant no harm to either of you. Why go through all that trouble? Besides, I’m not the one who killed Song Lan.”

Xingchen freezes. “Song Lan is—is—”

Xue Yang rises, sauntering over to where Xingchen stands frozen and trembling in the silvery-blue moonlight. “Lying in the Sawyer Funeral Home in Brattleboro in advance of his gentle journey into that good night, I’d imagine.”

Xingchen falls to his knees, covering his face with his hand. “He's—he's—”

"As a doornail." Hands clasped behind his back, Xue Yang circles the kneeling doctor. “You brought him to your creepy Miss Baoshen's farm instead of a hospital. Infection was inevitable."

Xingchen seems to be in shock, mechanically forcing the words out. “That beast destroyed his eyes—there was nothing any doctor could do—”

“No human doctor.”

Xingchen’s nails bite into the floorboards. “That’s…”

“You believed the myths, didn’t you. Deep down you believed the stories you grew up on, all those stories about the crablike things living in the Vermont mountains, monsters from the Outside who can transplant brains like humans swap out light bulbs. 'If the Old Ones can transplant brains,' you thought, 'eyes will be child’s play…' ”

“Of course not! I’m a doctor—a scientist—”

“Who’d grown up in those blighted mountains.”

Xingchen is struggling to breathe. “You weren’t at Miss Baoshen's—you’re lying—you must be lying!—”

“I was there. A royal pain getting there, let me tell you. Bus to Boston, wait two hours, train to Greenfield, wait three hours, another train to Brattleboro, wait for the only rental car to return to the depot, then hours up narrow mountain roads. I drove the rental car all the way back to Arkham instead of doing that all over again. Let them sic the police on me.”

“You weren’t there, you were never at the farm—”

“How did you stand it? The entire place is like something out of Poe, like the air itself is trying to smother you. Never a moment’s quiet; just echoes of hidden brooks and underground streams, barking police dogs chained up in the front yard, a white stone fence, green shutters needing a coat of paint, a vegetable garden in the front yard and animals out back…and Miss Boashen herself! If she's really only as old as she looks, I'll eat my hat.”

A blood-tinged tear slips from beneath Xingchen’s tinted spectacles. “I probably told you all that!”

Xue Yang sighs, patting Xingchen’s head. “You know I was there, and you know Song Lan is dead.”

"How...how did it happen? Was it really...really infection....?..."

Xue Yang clicks his tongue. "I was trying to soften things for you, but you deserve the truth. Song Lan devoted his life to the divine. What did you think he would do when he found out he’d not only stolen your eyes but had been tainted by the Old Ones, or the Mi-Go, or whatever the hell you want to call them? Servants of the Devil, according to local lore, but then you already know that.” He mimes slashing his wrists. "Pathetic."

“It’s not true! Suicide is a sin!”

Xue Yang laughs. He can’t remember the last time he’d experienced such a sudden, powerful surge of pure, unadulterated joy. Even on that stupid graveyard picnic he’d still had to consider what Xingchen thought of him, hold his tongue from saying anything too bizarre.

But now—

“You shouldn’t have left him alone, doctor.” Xue Yang grins, pausing to relish the moment. “All he’d talk about was when you’d come back. If only you’d been there to stop him…”

He stops, waiting, filled with the same tingling warmth he’d felt when kissing Xingchen. .

I know he didn't do it; I know you killed him! Xingchen will burst out next, as he’s imagined over and over during the long drive from Vermont to Arkham. You killed him, you killed him you killed him you killed him—

But Xingchen says nothing of these things. Just continues kneeling in the moonlight, still and silent and seeming not to breathe.

You killed him, you murdered Zichen out of revenge! Xue Yang waits to hear. This was all you—

And then Xue Yang will admit that Song Lan hadn’t killed himself but that he had, in fact, died of infection Xiao Xingchen could have prevented had he only taken him to a hospital or stayed with him at Miss Baoshen's.

And then, once the guilt had ripped him apart, once he’d been crushed down to nothing, he’d finally—

“He wouldn’t,” Xingchen whispers, interrupting his thoughts. “Not Zichen. There must be some mistake…”

“Do you think I did it, then?” Xue Yang asks when Xingchen doesn’t speak again.

“No. You wouldn’t do such a thing, not to someone undeserving…”

Xue Yang slams a fist on the table, sending the dinner tray clattering to the floor.

How dare the doctor think the best of him, even now, how dare he, the naive, foolish idiot!

“I killed him!” Xue Yang snaps without thinking, kicking a chair across the room. “How stupid are you?! Gullible idiot; how did you ever get this far in life?"

"You're lying!"

"Why would I lie?" He's seized by a paroxysm of laughter at the look on Xingchen’s face. "What have I to gain by making you hate me more?"

"He's still alive, he must be!"

"I smothered him in his bed while he thrashed like a rat touching a live wire!" Xue Yang giggles. It's been too long since he's had such a good laugh. "I think he dislocated his shoulder trying to fight me off—”

Xingchen’s shaking white fingers close around the fallen knife from the dinner tray. Xue Yang doubles over at the thought that the blind doctor is going to try to stab him.

Something to tease him about later.

He’s still laughing when Xingchen plunges the knife into his gut.

Xue Yang staggers backward, collapsing on the bed. “You—you stabbed me!”

Xiao Xingchen has dropped to his knees again, staring at the bloody blade with shock on his face. He drops the knife with a clatter, face twisting. “I didn’t—I didn't mean—”

Xue Yang is laughing again, blood dribbling from between his fingers as he presses his hand to the wound. “I didn't think you had it in you, doctor.”

“It—I—”

Xue Yang can’t stop laughing even though each laugh forces more blood from the wound. He feels like he’s floating, euphoria mixing with the pain of the wound to amplify every emotion and sensation into something approaching transcendence.

“I did lie,” he laughs, giddy, veins coursing with raw pleasure. “I didn’t lay a finger on him, and he had no idea you’d let your precious Miss Baoshen's pet crabs rip your eyes out and stick them in his skull! I was trying to spare you, but—tell me, doctor, what did you put in Mother Zichen’s tea?”

Xiao Xingchen almost chokes on his words. Still in shock, he’s staring blindly at the knife on the floor, completely still. “Just—herbs—a tincture—”

“You don’t suppose you might have picked the wrong bottle off the shelf, being blind and all?”

“I don’t—”

Xue Yang presses on his wound, sending a fresh wave of pain through him that gives a sharp edge to his triumph. “Given how he vomited all over the bed and started convulsing, I’d guess you got something wrong.”

A blood-curdling shriek of anguish rips from Xingchen’s throat, mixing with Xue Yang’s laughter. “You’re lying! You’re lying!”

“You’d think the tea you left him was liquid gold, the way he snatched at it. Pathetic. Like drinking it would bring you back home. I swear I'm telling the truth this time. No more shielding you. Scout's honor!”

“It can’t be!—”

Xue Yang tosses Song Lan’s watch down beside Xingchen. “Take a look,” he giggles. “Oh, I’m sorry. You can’t anymore, can you?”

Xingchen’s scrabbling fingers find the distinctive 宋俊文 engraved on the casing. “This doesn’t prove anything—”

Xue Yang is swollen, distended, replete with a growing elation that threatens to burst him apart from the inside. “Listen, doctor!”

Tuck-tuck. Tuck-tuck.

“I’ve only ever heard one watch make that sound.”

“You stole it from him—”

“You don’t believe that, do you, doctor. You poisoned him, he lies dead in Brattleboro, still waiting for his friend who never came—”

Xingchen picks up the bloody knife and draws it across his throat.

He’s dead before he hits the floor, a puddle of hot red blood rapidly spreading around him and seeping into the gaps in the warped floorboards.

Stunned, Xue Yang stares down at Xingchen’s body, then falls to his knees with a wail that seems to come from somewhere outside him. Blood runs freely from his own wound, mixing with Xingchen’s as he kneels, numb, beside the doctor's corpse.

Just another nightmare—Xue Yang will wake up soon, meet Xingchen under the yew tree on the campus green, take him to lunch—

But Xingchen is solid in his arms, the blood hot and sticky, the pain in his gut sharp and cold and undeniably real.

His mind goes blank. All he can hear is the thudding of his heart and the deafening tuck-tuck tuck-tuck from the watch on the floor.

He’s still cradling Xingchen’s limp body, cradling his corpse in his arms and mumbling into his blood-soaked hair, when the door opens.

It’s Jim, that blond-haired, green-eyed, corn-fed halfwit who’d been following Xingchen around all week like a puppy. A year or two younger than Xue Yang, but about six inches taller and three feet wider across at the shoulders.

The boy stands there in the door, goggling like a startled fish, and suddenly Xue Yang is himself again.

He lays Xiao Xingchen’s corpse down and rises, hand pressed to his wound again. A little unsteady—how much blood had he lost?—but his mind is working again. “Jim, is it?”

“You—” One would think Jim had never seen a bloody corpse before. “You—Xingchen! You—”

Xue Yang sits back down on the bed. “He killed himself when I told him about Mr. Song’s death.”

“He—”

“Get with the program, Jimmy. He’s dead. But not for long.”

“Not for…”

Xue Yang sighs. It’s obvious Jim isn’t one of Vermont’s more intelligent corn-fed halfwits. “Just shut up and let me think while you clean the blood.”

“Clean the…”

“Yes. We need to cover this up or he won’t be allowed a proper Christian burial.”

“Miss Baoshen isn't a…”

“Just do it!” Rolling his eyes, Xue Yang unhooks Xingchen’s necklace and spreads a blanket on a clean part of the floor. Gently he rolls Xiao Xingchen in it, and then in a second blanket when the blood soaks through the first.

The stab wound in Xue Yang's stomach is still bleeding freely. Dammit! He stuffs his handkerchief into the wound and knots his necktie tightly around his middle to keep it in place.

Good enough.

Jim scrubs the floor while Xue Yang stands at the washbasin, cleaning the blood out of the delicate filigree of the necklace's talisman pendant with a toothbrush.

He examines the necklace while he thinks.

Xingchen has never let him see it up close before. There’s something unsettling about the talisman, though it’s nothing he can put his finger on. It’s about an inch across, formed of ivory carved with grotesquely beautiful fish monsters, the engravings inlaid with a peculiar metal alloy. On the back is engraved an evidently mystic symbol he’s never seen before.

As otherworldly and beautiful as Xingchen himself.

Strangely, the ivory seems to vibrate beneath his fingers, stopping as soon as the blood is washed away, but he barely notices, the rest of him humming and throbbing, nerves stretched tauter.

Later he doesn’t remember the exact thoughts whirring through his mind. He seems to be outside his body again but in an entirely different way than before, watching himself examine the talisman, watching Jim wash the floor, looking down at the long thin blood-spotted bundle.

But when he looks up a half hour later, he has a plan.

“My car is downstairs,” he tells Jim, who seems like he’s about to cry. “We’ll take Xingchen to my house, and tomorrow we’ll transport him back to Miss Baoshen's.”

“I was supposed to take care of him…”

Xue Yang slaps him on the back and hands him a satchel of clothes. “And you did a bang-up job of it, my friend. That’s it. Let it all out, Jimmy, so long as you don’t drop the bag.”

Blood is starting to seep through the handkerchief in his wound, but Xue Yang doesn’t stop to take a closer look, just lifts the long white bundle. Xingchen will be back soon enough to tend to it properly, after all. A day or two, at most…

The drive to the old Curwen farm is made in silence. Jim dazedly follows him into the house, looking around with a flicker of concern at the bare kitchen.

“There’s some coffee in the cabinet,” Xue Yang tells him before disappearing into his bedroom with Xingchen. Through the windows come the haunting trill of countless whip-poor-wills attracted by the aura of death. “You can mix it with cold water and kind of strain it with your teeth.”

He lays Xiao Xingchen out on his bed, covering him with a blanket before going into the little washroom and stripping to the waist.

The handkerchief and tie are completely soaked with blood. Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit!

Wen Ruohan’s men have left him with nothing but a half-empty box of bandaids. He stuffs a new handkerchief in the wound, ties the only remaining towel around his middle, changes into clean clothes, and puts the bandaids in his pocket along with the bloody Charleston Chew candy bar.

“Just a few more hours,” he whispers to Xingchen's body, “and then I’ll explain everything again from the top, only this time Song Lan won’t be there to keep you from listening. You’ll understand what I’ve achieved first-hand…”

“Lots of birds here,” says Jim when Xue Yang comes out of the bedroom, the only thing he’s said since discovering the body.

“An astute observation, my young friend.”

Jim nods as if he understands what “astute” means and Xue Yang sighs and shoos him into the Ford. Hums as he drives back to Arkham. Grins as he parks a block from Miskatonic’s science wing.

“Out we go, Jimmy,” he says when Jim just sits there. “Attaboy. A little adventure. Baby’s First Break-in, courtesy of Uncle Yang. You’re going to stand here and whistle if you see anyone coming. Got it?”

“But—”

“These are things to help Xingchen. Besides, you’re already an accomplice, so—” Xue Yang slaps him on the back. If he had to sum up his mood in a single word, "jolly" would just about cover it. “A little late to protest. How old are you? Eighteen? Well, not quite an adult, but they’ll probably try you as one, anyway. Step lively. Or rather, stand there and keep those pretty green eyes peeled.”

Shaking his head, Xue Yang smears the window with the honey he’d brought along, sticks a piece of brown paper over the honey, and smashes the window.

The laboratory is dark and quiet. Lightheaded as he is, it’s still almost too easy to gather the chemicals he needs even though he has to stop every few minutes to wipe up dripping blood.

He can’t wait for Xingchen, after all. Chafing, he turns on a bunsen burner and heats a thin metal spoon handle in the blue flame, organizing his stolen chemicals in his satchel as he waits for the metal to heat.

I should have just burgled the college in the first place instead of all that special-order nonsense from the chemist.

Of course, then he’d have had to deal with the same nonsense brought on by the theft of the Necronomicon, and Wen Ruohan would have abandoned him even sooner.

He stops for a moment, grinding his teeth at the memory of his patron’s treachery, then forces his choler down.

No need to ruin a good mood over that bastard’s betrayal. He’s free of that sonovabitch now, and starting tomorrow he’ll have a new life with someone who, despite everything, still thought the best of him.

Someone else who abandoned you, whispers another little voice. Someone who left you lying in a pool of blood and stabbed you tonight.

He was angry. You practically goaded him into it—

You know the only person he wanted dead more than you was himself.

He grinds his fist into his stab wound, using the pain to force the thoughts away.

Xingchen had thought he was dead. That was the only reason he’d left him in the vault.

And he had regretted stabbing him , or he would have tried to finish the job instead of breaking down.

Doesn’t matter, anyway. After tonight’s ritual, he’ll have all the time in the world to make things up to Xue Yang, the man who’d raised him from the dead despite having every reason to let him rot in the ground.

The spoon is glowing orange by now. Xue Yang unbuttons his shirt and removes the makeshift bandages. He bites down on the towel before wrapping the spoon in the tail of his coat and taking it from the flame. Inhaling sharply, he spreads the wound between two fingers and presses the searing-hot metal to either side, listening for the sizzle of blood boiling and vessels and arterie sealing. Trembling slightly, he gets to his feet, only to see a thin trickle of blood still leaking from the wound.

Dammit.

He sits back down and slides the spoon handle inside the wound, cauterizing the torn flesh from the inside, being sure to leave a small hole for drainage.

He covers the burns with the bandaids in his pocket and climbs out the window, leaving it open to buy more time before someone notices the smashed window. The Ford seems to float on moonlit clouds all the way back to the farm, the tires barely touching the rough country roads. He doesn’t feel the pain of his leg wound pressing against the car’s seat or the burns on his stomach, he’s so exhilarated.

Jim stumbles out of the automobile after him. “I want to go home. Tonight.”

“You will. In a sense. Just as soon as you help me with one more thing.”

Jim folds his arms over his broad chest. “I’m not budging another step until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re bleeding through your clothes. Did Xingchen do that to you?”

Xue Yang produces Xingchen’s revolver. “What’s going on is that you are going to go inside the house and follow my instructions precisely, got it?”

Jim stares at the revolver. “You’re insane.”

“And I’ve got a gun, so hurry it up.”

Jim unlocks the front door. There’s a new touch of anger about the overgrown oaf that Xue Yang makes a mental note to keep an eye on. Under Xue Yang’s direction, he takes the storm lamp off the kitchen counter, lifts Xiao Xingchen off the bed, and descends into the tunnels beneath the farmhouse.

Xue Yang follows, chafing at the fact that this oversized bumpkin is touching Xingchen, but he can’t carry the good doctor, gun, chemistry equipment, and Xingchen’s clothing at the same time.

The familiar foul stench wafts up through the twisting stairwell, making Jim gag, but Xue Yang is too excited to notice or care although he’s never fully gotten used to the smell.

Soon, soon, soon—

But it’s an eternity before they step down into the long, vaulted chamber containing his failed experiments, the grotesque monsters formed from the ash of incomplete corpses. Scenting fresh blood, they raise a sudden chorus of bestial howling that echoes off the walls like the cries of starving demons.

He directs Jim past the wells missed by Wen Ruohan’s men in the darkness, down to the incinerator chamber. They leave Xingchen on the stainless steel undertaker’s table in the crematory and return to the vaulted hall.

“I did what you asked,” says Jim sullenly. “Now what?”

Xue Yang taps his chin with the gun, thinking. “I’ll tell you what. You’ve done what you were told, so I’ll make it painless, though I prefer blades. Deal?”

“Make—”

The gunshot echoes through the stone chamber, setting the well-demons howling, a cacophony of inhuman shrieks that bounce off the vaulted ceiling and down the narrow passages.

“Yes, yes, you’ll eat tonight,” Xue Yang tells them, crouching beside Jim’s body. “At least, one of you will.”

He produces his favorite knife and straightens Jim’s head. It’s hard to keep his hands steady, he’s trembling so hard with excitement, but he forces himself to remain calm as he carves the boy’s eyes out and cups them in his palm.

I should have been a surgeon. The good doctor himself couldn’t have done a better job.

He wraps them delicately in his handkerchief before slipping Jim’s wallet from his pocket, removing the grate of the nearest well, and hauling the corpse over the edge.

“Bon appetit,” he says wryly as he replaces the grate. From inside the well come the sound of a large, corn-fed halfwit being ripped to shreds.

He sets the storm lamp on the stainless steel table in the crematory and stokes the furnace. Reverently, he unwraps Xiao Xingchen, removing the glasses and taking a moment to study his face. Softly he runs a finger around the bruises mottling the rims of his empty eye sockets.

Still beautiful, even in death, even like this.

With extreme delicacy Xue Yang separates the lids on his right eye. The shadows cast by the storm lamp make the doctor's gaunt face look almost skull-like, and Xue Yang has to look away for a moment.

Then he reminds himself that this is necessary, that without a whole body, Xiao Xingchen will be nothing more than a hideous monster like those in the wells, and removes an eyeball from his handkerchief. Gently, gently he inserts it into Xingchen’s empty socket with a squelching sound.

Then the other eye.

Xiao Xingchen stares glassily up at the damp stone ceiling with eyes that aren’t his, and Xue Yang has to look away again.

Necessary. You know it’s necessary…

He forces himself to turn back to the doctor, bending down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead with trembling lips.

“Soon,” he whispers. “And then we can leave Arkham. Or we can stay while you complete your degree. Whatever you want…”

He checks Song Lan’s pocketwatch. Two a.m. Better get this done with, then he can sit and explain everything in the cool, intimate darkness of the night instead of the prosaic blaze of the sun. Gazing out on the starlit countryside, the trilling of nightbirds and the soothing rush of the river the only sounds for miles around, Xiao Xingchen will have no choice but to admit that Xue Yang had done nothing wrong…

He sets up his chemistry equipment on the floor, Wen Ruohan having removed all portable furniture. He’s been forced to use the chemistry laboratory’s equipment, and he has to smother whispered doubts that their versions of the chemicals are not the same as the ones he’d used in successful reanimations, that the variations in materials will mean a variation in results.

Then another thought bubbles to the surface, the sudden biting fear that even with the same chemicals Xingchen’s transplanted eyes will mean dangerously inferior results, and he grinds the hand he’d torn up smashing his window into stomach until the pain forces the thought from his brain.

It’s two forty-five a.m. when he finishes treating Xiao Xingchen’s body. He releases the little latch on the side of the table and tips it backwards, sliding the doctor head-first into the furnace’s flames.

The flames licking at Xingchen’s flesh are hypnotic. Watching a corpse bubble and blacken is a special fascination of his, human beings reduced to mere handfuls of ashes in his complete control.

The doctor, entirely his, even if just for a few hours.

As soon as it’s mostly safe to reach inside the furnace, he scoops the greenish salts into a black velvet pouch he’d found among Song Lan’s effects and, trembling with anticipation, heads down the passage to the torture chamber. He lays out Xingchen’s clothes on the table and passes through the door into the cave containing the altar and standing stones.

The Elder Thing had destroyed several of the standing stones, ripping them from the ground with supernatural strength. Several of the ancient carvings on the altar are marred by bullet holes, and a pool of blood has congealed on the brown-smeared floor.

Wrinkling his nose, Xue Yang steps around the blood and climbs the steps to the altar. He takes a minute to steady himself, filling his lungs with the dank subterranean air, each breath sending a stab of pain lancing through his middle.

I should wash the floor. Can’t have the doctor coming back to all this filth…

But his watch reads five a.m., and he can’t waste time going back up to the farmhouse for a mop and water.

“Y’AI ��NG’NGAH,

YOG-SOTHOTH

H’EE—L’GEB

F’AI THRODOG!!!”

Three times he chants the invocation.

Three times nothing happens.

He smashes both fists onto the altar, screaming in frustration.

It’s right, he knows it’s right—

There’s nothing to smash, no table to flip. All he can do is beat at the altar, shrieking in frustration, until he collapses with exhaustion.

He takes a shuddering breath from between numb fingers.

Gone. Gone, gone for good—

No.

He scrubs at his eyes, smearing his face with blood.

No.

There must be something wrong. Something that can be fixed. Not the eyes. Not the chemicals. Not those. Can't be those...

He looks up through bleary red eyes, taking in the smashed standing stones.

That must be it…

He falls as soon as he gets up, wounded leg giving way completely. With sheer force of will he drags himself up by grabbing the altar and sweeps Xingchen’s essence back into the pouch, then stumbles down the long vaulted passage to the stairs leading up to the farmhouse.

It’s almost dawn when he manages to drag himself up to the surface. He doesn’t feel any pain anymore, desperation driving him on even as his body threatens to give way.

You can do it you can bring him back you can do it—

He throws Xingchen's satchel of clothes into the car beside the one he'd packed for his trip to Vermont and drives downriver. The sun is starting to break above the tangled treetops as he rows to the north end of the island in the center of the Miskatonic.

The standing stones look bloody in dawn’s red light. He drags himself up the hill and into the circle, falling on his knees at the center.

You can do it you can bring him back you can do it—

He spreads his jacket on the grass and tips the essential salts out onto the silk lining. Digs both trembling hands into the soil, fills his lungs with the cool river air, and gathers his remaining strength.

“Y’AI ’NG’NGAH,

YOG-SOTHOTH

H’EE—L’GEB

F’AI THRODOG!”

Nothing.

Not so much as a single trilling whip-poor-will…

He’d failed.

Failed for good this time.

He scoops Xingchen’s essence back into the black velvet pouch and falls asleep with the bloodstained candy bar cupped in his limp palm.

* * *

The sun is setting when he wakes, turning the Miskatonic into a ribbon of a fire.

Stiff, he rises with difficulty and stumbles out of the ring of standing stones. He’d suffered uneasy dreams all night, his disfigured demonic pets ripping him to shreds and feasting on his eyes. Minus the eyes, it's the same kind of nightmares he’d used to have when falling asleep over his research in the vaults beneath his house…

Not your house. Curwen’s house. Xue Chonghai’s house. Wen Ruohan’s house.

You have no home.

You need no home.

He gazes across the river. Arkham is lovely, a quaint panorama of sloping roofs and distant steeples, but Xingchen is still dead and it may as well be a smoking ruin.

He pulls his shirt up. All that rowing had torn his burns, and fresh blood has caused bandaids to slip off.

Whatever. As if any of that matters now.

He slides into the rowboat but can’t bring himself to pick up the oars.

Where is he going, anyway?

Song Lan’s death had been clean. Xue Yang had been nowhere near him when he'd drunk the poisoned tea the morning after his arrival, and there’s nothing to trace it back to him. But Miss Baoshen isn’t stupid. If the Arkham police aren’t already alerted, they would be soon, and even though he’d given her the name of one of Xingchen’s classmates and worn a plain white shirt to the farm, staying in Arkham is a risk.

And even if Miss Baoshen doesn’t report Song Lan’s death as a murder…he’d rented the Ford for a full week, but when he fails to return it it will be reported stolen, and then he’ll have to deal with the police all over again. They’ll speak to the busybody old landlady, who’s bound to have noticed Xingchen’s absence by now, and she’ll tell them he and Jim were the last people to see Xingchen alive, and as for Jim…

He digs his fists into his eyes. Sloppy sloppy sloppy. He still hasn’t gotten used to operating without Wen Ruohan’s protection. Stupid stupid stupid—

You can avoid any police long enough to get revenge on Wen Ruohan, says a little voice. Slice him up like Chang Ping…

But even that fails to interest him.

More research. Find another powerful sponsor. Find out why you failed…

He closes his eyes. Pointless…

What's wrong with you? You’re not like everyone else. You don’t quit at the first sign of trouble. You’ve already done the impossible—accomplished what no one has ever done in all of human history—

His fingers curl around the oars.

He had accomplished what no human being had ever accomplished before.

And would accomplish it again.

He barely notices his burn wounds ripping further as he rows across the river with short, powerful strokes, excitement building as the fiery light dies and stars appear in the water.

Dunwich.

He’s heard tell of the standing stones in the Dunwich hills in upstate Massachusetts.

And if those stones don’t work, he’ll find more stones. He’ll travel the world finding ancient standing stones—sail to Stonehenge, if he has to—

He will not fail.

He can’t fail.

The car is where he left it, he notes with relief. A good sign. Not many people come to this part of the river, but the closest parts of town are unpaved, crumbling waterfront alleys full of furtive figures and shadowy riffraff, and he’d half-expected to find it stolen.

If the police are after him, driving the car is a risk, but he’d made it this far and has no alternatives. He keeps Xingchen tucked in his shirt as he drives through the Miskatonic Valley, the gun in the glove compartment. Just one bullet left. He considers buying more ammunition, but Jim hadn’t had much money and he needs it all for gasoline. Besides, past experience has taught him that not many people are willing to sell bullets to a man covered in blood.

It’s midnight when he passes Dean’s Corner in upstate Vermont, turning right at Aylesbury pike. NOW ENTERING DUNWICH, reads the peeling sign beside the road, half-hidden by choking vines and smothering bushes.

Xue Yang half-relaxes, half-tenses.

Soon...

The barely-formed moon is high in the clear black sky, illuminating the otherwise dark and desolate countryside. The area is sparsely populated by farmers, their houses decayed and fields barely planted. Eerie desolation infuses every tree and blade of grass, turning what should be peaceful pastoral scenery into something bleak and menacing. Scattered through the countryside rises hills of strangely uniform roundness, as if they’re man-made despite legend tracing the mysterious hills back before the time of the first inhabitants.

But he’s too busy desperately scanning the hilltops for the distinctive rings of stone pillars to pay attention to the crushing sense of age and wrongness that lies thickly over the empty countryside.

Nothing. His hands tighten on the steering wheel as he rattles over a half-collapsed wooden bridge, smearing the wheel with blood from cuts burst open on the Miskatonic altar. No standing stones…

He circles the area for hours before, without knowing why, he finds himself pulling over to the side of the road. He grabs the satchelt of clothes and begins to walk, cutting through an overgrown meadow towards a cluster of oddly perfect hilltops in the distance.

For almost an hour he walks, forcing his wounded leg to move and cursing the growing patch of blood on his shirt. The weeds and bushes seem to grasp at his trousers and he stumbles several times, having had nothing to eat for days other than a roadside cup of coffee and slice of apple pie.

A surge of lightheadedness, violet stars whirling around him, and suddenly he’s lying in the tall grasses, unable to move.

Eyes still closed, he presses his hand to the black velvet pouch against his breast. It’s far warmer than the cool night air, and if he closes his eyes he can imagine it’s Xingchen’s hand against his chest, imagine that they’re back in the St. John’s churchyard…

A whip-poor-will trills nearby, and he opens his eyes.

He could have sworn he hadn’t made it to the hills before he’d passed out, but an enormous round hill rears up before him…

A hill crowned with a ring of standing stones.

On his hands and knees, he drags himself up the sloping hillside with Xingchen's satchel a suddenly unbearable weight on his arm. His bloody hand closes around a crumbled skull as he crests the top, the bone crumbling under his fingers.

“Ugh!” He scrambles backward, hand going through a deformed ribcage, then laughs.

He laughs for a good ten minute before he catches his breath and looks around, still giggling.

In the center of the granite pillars stands a table-like stone surrounded by charred earth and human bones.

His laughter chokes off abruptly.

Human sacrifices.

Something clicks in his memory, a sick feeling forcing vomit up into his throat.

Xue Yang’s method does not call for human sacrifices, but his method had not worked on Xiao Xingchen..

He’ll drive back to Dunwich proper—drag someone out of their bed, if he has too—slit them throat to anus, offer them up to Yog-Sothoth, the Outer God he's been appealing to in his experiments. He doesn’t believe Yog-Sothoth is a true god, just as Chthulu and all the rest aren't, but the interdimensional being controls vast cosmic forces, and by appealing to it one can access immense power—

But deep in his gut he knows he won’t find this hill again if he leaves now.

Shakily he rises and stumbles up to the altar, draws a pentagram with the blood seeping from his stomach, spreads Xiao Xingchen’s essential salts over the stained stone, and steels himself.

“Y’AI ’NG’NGAH,

YOG-SOTHOTH

H’EE—L’GEB

F’AI THRODOG!!!”

A gust of freezing wind whips over the hill, moaning around the stone pillars as if trying to form words.

“Y’AI ’NG’NGAH,

YOG-SOTHOTH

H’EE—L’GEB

F’AI THRODOG!!!”

He smears both hands with blood, rubbing them on the stone, covering it with his essence as a sacrifice, pounding it into the ancient stone with his bloody fists. A rumble from deep beneath the earth, clattering the bones.

“Y’AI ’NG’NGAH,

YOG-SOTHOTH

H’EE—L’GEB

F’AI THRODOG!!!”

The starlight is brighter, tinged with violet, dazzling him with cosmic energy. Something outside himself is animating his limbs, controlling his tongue, and he’s seized by a sudden terror so powerful it borders on ecstasy. Alien sensations crackle through his bones as the wind shrieks around the standing stones, the electric current threatening to tear him apart from the inside.

“Y’AI ’NG’NGAH,

YOG-SOTHOTH

H’EE—L’GEB

F’AI THRODOG!!!”

The stars are unbearably bright, a Milky Way-like rift appearing in the sky. Its blazing light reaches inside him, cold and sharp, hollowing out his chest and filling it with violet starlight.

“Iä! Shub-Niggurath!” he hears himself howling at the rift. “N’gai, n’gha’ghaa, bugg-shoggog, y’hah; Yog-Sothoth, Yog-Sothoth…!”

A bolt of purple lightning splits the sky, striking the altar. Billows of green smoke rise from the stone slab, choking Xue Yang. He grasps at his throat, hair standing on end at the nearness of the lightning strike, nerves sparking so furiously he thinks his heart will give out.

"Iä! Shub-Niggurath!” he tries to get out. “Yi-nash-Yog-Sothoth-he-lgeb-fi-throdog…”

The smoke clears, wind falling off.

He collapses to his knees, resting his forehead on the cool stone altar, the tears that he’d held back for days spilling out of him in a frenzy of despair.

Failure. Again.

No.

He’ll succeed.

He’ll try again and again and again, sacrifice a hundred people if he has to—drown the entire state in blood—

Something touches his shoulder.

He jerks away, palms slipping on loose bones, and looks up at the altar.

Xiao Xingchen gazes down at him with soft green eyes.

“Xue Yang,” he says, sliding off the altar and touching the blood soaking Xue Yang’s shirt, “what happened to you?”

“Doctor,” says Xue Yang, and he passes out.

The good doctor, on the brink

Yog-Sothoth has a little play date with his boy Xue Yang

[soramel]

Curiosity didn’t kill the cat | jjk ff

[COMPLETE] Part 4

jjkxreader

Prompt: “You’re early,” said the grim reaper with a hint of amusement.

Fantasy au, sageuk au, royalty au, grimreaper!jungkook, reader, romance, slow-burn

Words: 1.9k approx. Part 4/7 Content warning: smut, violence, angst

This is the last part in my Tumblr account. Part 5 to 7 (fin) can be found in my wattpad account

--

You stayed home the whole morning, staring out the window. You watched the cars passing by the bridge crossing the Han river.

Now you're plopped down on the couch while Jungkook is vacuuming the floor.

"Don't you have work today?" you asked.

Jungkook shook his head in reply. "There's no one on my schedule. I checked."

"Why don't you have a TV here? How do you pass time?" you whined. You might be safer compared to being outside, encountering different souls and human energies, but you thought this kind of boredom could kill too.

You learned last night that you don't tire out like a human does. It's your energy running out, which can be restored by sleep, rest, or eating food offerings for those who passed. However, if you stayed long enough wandering, those wouldn't suffice. Ghosts like Taehyung's assignee and the man in that business district, they feed off from wandering souls like you. Your energy is still of a human because you died in a wrong time, but they could easily get your energy from your form.

Jungkook didn't respond and continued cleaning.

You sighed. You're fully rested, so you can't really go back and sleep the day off.

You jumped at an idea, "How about I visit my funeral?" you didn't really want to. You don't want to see your family and friends being sad because of your passing. Besides, the spirit guide promised you that you could go back to your old life. You just have to wait. And you have a powerful grim reaper protecting you, so you're all good.

He shook his head, and firmly said, "No. It's not safe there. I told you that's a hotspot for starving souls."

"But I have you!" you insisted.

Jungkook turned off the vacuum, placing a hand on his hip, squaring his shoulders. He then said, "Remember when the lady almost got you? What if we encounter five of them? I'm not omnipotent, Y/n. I'd lay my life to protect you, but I don't really die so it's pointless. Once you're out of my grasp, you're on your own."

His warning rendered you speechless. Unconsciously, you huffed in a pout.

Jungkook's expression fell at your reaction, but there's nothing else he could do.

The doorbell rang.

Both of you turned to the sound.

The grim reaper tucked in the vacuum, leaving it to stand, before going to the door.

"Sir Jeon," you heard a wavering man's voice.

"Mr. Choi, what brought you here?" Jungkook queried, his voice tensed. He repeatedly wished for you not to show yourself and he hoped telepathy would work. But of course, your curiosity won. You peeked from the hallway and saw a man in his 30's.

His gaze shifted from Jungkook to yours. His eyes widened in thirst. For a second, the white of his eyes faded.

"Mr. Choi," Jungkook snapped.

The ghost stared back to him, as his eyes went back to normal.

"Sir Jungkook. It's my daughter. She's having a fever and her mother's not yet back from the business trip," the man explained.

"Her nanny didn't show up this morning. She's been alone since last night," he went on, his sweaty hands fidgeting as he asked for help. "Please, help her."

Jungkook stilled for a moment, before responding, "I'm not allowed to make calls in the human world, Mr. Choi. I'm not allowed to interfere on that matter."

Mr. Choi kneeled, pressing his hands together, and begged, "Please, sir. I, I tried to help. I've been trying to possess a human's body but my soul is too weak. I haven't fed for weeks. I couldn't visit a burial without getting killed by a starving ghost. Please, you're all I have."

"Mr. Choi-"

"Her!" he pointed at you.

"She can help."

Mr. Choi looked at you, his eyes pleading.

"Please help my daughter," he asked you directly.

Jungkook backed away from the door, "No," he sternly said. "She's not fit for what you're asking."

The man argued, "She just died! I can feel her energy from here, she could possess anyone easily!"

Then insisted, "Young lady, please. It's not that much. Just bring her to the hospital."

Jungkook stood firm, resolved to kick the man out, "I said no. Go-"

"Jungkook. It's okay. I'll help him," you said to him.

"Y/n," his voice laced with disapproval, while the man bowed repeatedly. "Thank you! Thank you!" he uttered over and over in gratefulness.

--

When you arrived at the apartment complex, you started looking around for someone to possess. You saw a college student, much like you, walking. Jungkook stopped you before you could take a step.

"Not her. She's not well rested. You'll be stuck in her body if her soul surrendered."

You nodded and tried to look for another. There's another woman, but she's with her child. It seemed like they're waiting for a taxi.

You surveyed the area. There are only cars passing by the highway.

Mr. Choi hesitatingly spoke, "Please hurry, it took me long to get to you,"

He pursed his lips shut when Jungkook sent him a deadly glare.

Clasping your hands together, you decided to go for the woman. You looked at Jungkook for permission, but he's been nothing but adamant.

So, you strolled forward, with much determination.

Upon nearing the lady, you whispered, "I'll be quick, promise," though she couldn't hear you.

You stepped into her shell, her soul resisting. You can feel yours slowly seeping in.

You tightly closed your eyes and soothingly muttered, "I'll be quick. A young girl's alone in the apartment and she's been sick. Please."

You opened your eyes and felt your spirit settled. You stared at the lady's free hand, then you felt a tug.

Her son stared up at you and said, "Mommy, there's the cab," he informed.

You looked at the driver and waved your hand dismissively. You crouched down to the boy's height and held his face.

"Mommy needs to visit a friend's place first. Okay?" you spoke, while trying not to be startled by your new voice.

The boy nodded.

You gave him a reassuring smile which turned to joy when he smiled back. Showing a gap between his teeth.

Holding the boy's hand, you faced Jungkook and Mr. Choi.

Mr. Choi beamed and led the way to his daughter.

--

You sat beside the hospital bed as you listened to the doctor. "She'll be monitored every four hours. You have nothing to worry about," he smiled at you and to the boy beside you.

"Thank you, doctor. I'll call her mother right away," you informed him.

"Don't mention it. How kind of you to look after your friend's child, Mrs. Kim," he said.

You blinked repeatedly and smiled awkwardly, "Ah, of course."

Then you looked at him as you wait for him to leave.

After an uncomfortable silence, you renewed your smile, "Doc?"

"Ah, yes. Well, then... I have to go. Lots of patients to attend to."

You nodded in reply. You watched him walk away before tripping on his own steps. A chuckle escaped Jungkook's lips, he tried to suppress it to no avail.

--

By the time you managed to bring the boy and the lady back to their home, the sun was already down. The lamp post flickered as you stepped out of the building. Then a snowflake fell on your nose before it passed through, landing on the pavement.

You reached out your hand to catch the first snow only for it to slip through.

Your lips pulled into a bitter smile. At least, you couldn't feel the cold.

Noticing your feet, you moved forward, one step after another.

If you were alive, the road's roughness would scrunch under your feet, the falling snow crystals would land on your skin then would melt away; if you were alive, you'd see your breath in this unforgivable winter.

It's only been days since, but you couldn't help but become impatient. More than a week of waiting would feel like a year.

"You okay?" Jungkook asked as he walked beside you.

Turning to him, you said, "Could be better,"

He nodded. "Let's find a door,"

You touched his arm to stop him, you feel like walking. At least that way, you'd be able to feel the first snow with your eyes.

"Can we walk instead?" you asked.

He frowned and answered, "You look tired. You almost spent a day in someone's body. It should've drained you. I'd need to ask Yoongi or Taehyung to bring us food."

Taking off your hand from him, you tried your best to hide your disappointment. "Just 5 minutes," you bargained. He paused to think, assessing the situation. Afterwards, he agreed.

"Thanks."

You walked forward, watching the sky. The orange light from the posts sparkled against the falling flakes. You basked in the simple beauty you failed to appreciate.

The glitters on the pavement

The rustling of the road as a car passed by

The ding of the bicycle dashing through, towards you

You stood frozen in shock as the biker permeated. It felt like the gravity engulfed you out of your soul, if that's still possible. You're left with nothing now, this is your form at your purest state.

You wobbled and before hitting the ground, Jungkook pulled you by the elbow. Your chest flushed against his as you looked at his face. His features etched with worry.

It felt familiar.

his hold

his arms,

his eyes,

this scene,

the weather.

Everything.

A déjà vu.

Jungkook felt it too. That was evident on how his concerned frown softened into a gaze of longing and admiration.

He couldn't put a name on his emotions, but it felt unstoppable.

It felt right to close the distance between you.

It felt right to rest his palm against your crimson-painted cheeks.

It felt right to acknowledge the pull.

Your eyes shuttered close as his lips met yours.

Everything felt familiar.

You both knew.

And as if the spell that bound you worn out, you pulled apart from each other. Averting each other's eyes.

Jungkook broke the silence by clearing his throat. He then muttered, "Let's go home. You're tired."

After a while, he found a door by the sidewalk. He jerked it to see if it's open and after confirming, he shut it close again.

He laid his hand out to you, at which you took without protest.

Then you were now in his apartment's hallway.

The rest of the night were spent in silence as he retreated to his room.

--

"Taehyung brought this for you," Jungkook blurted as he saw you stirring awake.

The space was lit by the morning light and clanking of plates rung through as the two grim reapers prepare on the dining table.

"I heard you had a rough day. I wish I could've brought food earlier, but I had a graveyard shift," Taehyung explained in a sad face.

You waved your hand dismissively, "It's fine. No worries. I just slept it off."

Taehyung's face lit up, he looked at you, smiling, "I got porridge. They put shrimps and eggs on it. First class."

"I also got tangerines. Though we must save two handfuls for Yoongi-hyung. He's on his way here."

The main door banged open at once, startling you.

"Oops, sorry 'bout that. Hi Y/n," Yoongi greeted.

Jungkook placed the last plate on the table before looking up at the eldest, "Yoongi-hyung, come eat with us."

[Part 5 to 7]

[liam-cadmus]

Shikamaru squints at the small amount of papers he still needs to do, thumb pressing against his temple as he sighs out. The action doesn’t lessen the throbbing, but it makes him focus somewhat, eyes clearing and sleepiness wavering. 

He stretches his arms above his head, exhaling when the muscles cramped up stretches, smiling when an audible pop sounds from his shoulder blades. His fingers twitch, the feeling of a tab on his finger sounds tempting, but not really healthy, he knows. He just sighs longingly, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. He could stand a few hours, after all, he only just had one a few hours before.

He turns his gaze back to the stack of papers, the artificial light of the lamp making the white paper appear yellowish. The blankets behind him move, hearing quiet breathing as his lover changes sleeping positions, the sound making him feel oddly domestic. He knows he’s gonna get worried over tomorrow, when Sasuke inevitably finds out that he stayed up late. 

He returns his attention to the last stack, about two to three pages of the contract, just needing his proof reading and signatures. After that, he can finally let sleep drag him over. 

He’s half-way through the last page when he notices the more active movement behind him, making him sense the chakra momentarily. The movement is a bit frantic, thrashing, he realizes, and the previous warm, prickly and soothing chakra is crackling, all over the place and disturbed.

He signs the last line before pushing himself off his desk, socks thudding silently on the carpeted floor as he walks beside the bed.

He gently pulls the blanket off Sasuke, knowing that it restricts his legs, and could possible hurt himself, both of which would make whatever he's remembering about worse. He makes no effort to pin Sasuke down, knowing that it makes him go under a panic attack.

He knows that even if he avoids doing any of that, Sasuke will still wake up screaming, trembling. But that doesn't mean he won't be there to comfort him, doesn't stop him from staying awake until he falls asleep again, never stops him from trying to soothe him even if he's asleep.

He hopes, that even if it doesn't stop Sasuke from waking up terrified, that his presence is enough for Sasuke to know that he's there. That his hand going through the onyx locks dampens the terror Sasuke is experiencing, or that his gentle humming is heard over whatever haunts him.

Sasuke always has been his safe place, the stoic Uchiha warming a place in his heart. He thought he would only ever get an average life when he grows up, but he received exceptionally more.

The Elemental Nations are missing out, he realizes, when they whisper about how arrogant and cold the 'Last Uchiha' or the 'Traitor' is. Sometimes all he wants to do is lash out and rage, wanting to manhandle their heads until they actually look, to see the man underneath it all.

But at the same time he's grateful. That no one else was able to see this side of Sasuke, of his Sasuke, that he was the one trusted by the man enough that he's letting his walls down.

Being around him made him learn that he has a lot of patience, even though he's so very lazy about everything around him. That he could wait until Sasuke seeks him out, that he could- would wait until the other man is comfortable with him.

He found a kind, selfless person underneath all the torment. The gentle, quiet, understanding man that isn't shown to the surface. The boy who's so very guilt ridden, one that strives to be forgiven in the eyes of others. He sees the man who struggled to carry the burden of the world on his shoulders, who just accepts whatever words are thrown at him, the man who thinks whatever they say about him is correct.

The Uchiha that he has seen, is the one who cares ever so deeply for others. The one that would let anyone talk down on him, insult him, but whenever it's done to someone he loves, he'll fight back to prove them wrong. The man who's usually confident but struggles seeing his own self-worth.

The one who cups his cheeks lovingly, ever so gently, like he's fragile, with his scar-ridden, rough hands.

He knows Sasuke. And he loves him so damn much that words cannot even imagine, that a genius like him will struggle to find the words to explain how. The only man that leaves him unable to speak coherent words, makes him a stuttering, flustered mess, sometimes even rendering him speechless.

He pushes his lover's bangs out of his face, thumbs swiping the sweat building up on his forehead, gently coaxing Sasuke awake. He softly calls for his name, his other palm rubbing up and down his arm in comfort.

"Sasuke? It's a nightmare." He says to the quiet of the rooming, listening to the fast intake of breath. He calls for him again, before seeing the tell tales signs of the other waking up.

He removes his hands, when Sasuke's forehead creases, nose twitching upwards in an endearing way before he sits up, scream stuck in his throat.

He stays seated by the edge of the bed, making sure that he's in Sasuke's field of vision, hands not touching him, so that he doesn't get startled.

Sasuke's Rinne-Sharingan looks around the room as he regains his breathing, before his gaze trains on his lover. Shikamaru's gentle murmuring finally registers when the rushing of air in his ears subsides.

"Quite a nightmare you got there, are you okay with touching?" He asks, offering his hands to his frazzled lover. "Mmh." was Sasuke's tired response, ivory hands clasping over tanner ones.

Shikamaru lets himself be moved to position, laughing quietly when his glasses are removed with an annoyed glare, that only looked harmless than threatening. His mouth quirks to a smile, when Sasuke's breathing returns to normal.

Arms tighten around his shoulders as he shuffles, his head pillowed on Sasuke's shoulder, Sasuke tangling their legs together. He listens to Sasuke breathing his hair, making him swat at his chest, annoyed.

"Sorry for waking you up, but I doubt you were asleep in the first place." Sasuke mumbles, but the intent was there. "Hush, you don't need to apologize for having nightmares. How many times have I told you?"

Sasuke mumbles something, the whisper muffled, making him tilt his head up, "What was that?"

"Thank you anyways." Sasuke says quietly, making him huff in amusement.

"What was that again? I didn't hear you." he questions, hoping that his voice doesn't sound too teasing.

Sasuke's deadpan expression makes it obvious that it didn't work, but his lover's lips twitch regardless. "I said thank you, love." he says it clearer, louder, directly staring at his eyes.

"You're always welcome. You can wake me up even if I haven't slept in days and I will never blame you for that, understand?" He receives a nod, before he moves up to kiss him, grazing his lips to the corner before settling back down.

He hears a contented noise rumbling from where his ear is pressed, while Sasuke moves closer to him.

"Anyways, what're you doing up so late?" Sasuke asks, confusion evident in his tone. "You said you'll only be staying up for two hours." the man grumbles to his ear.

"Paperwork." he yawns, waving his concern off. "Shika," Sasuke dragged the word in a worried tone, "You've been tirelessly doing said paperwork for a week now. It's friday," Sasuke reasoned.

"No, actually it's Saturday." he absently gestures to the clock on the bedside table, the 4:56 in a stark red color against the black background. Sasuke sighs, "You overwork yourself. I'd talk to that idiot for giving you too much paperwork."

Shikamaru rolls his eyes, patting his lover's arm, "That was due next week, Naruto didn't force me to do them." he explains, while the Uchiha moves a bit so that his arm settles comfortably.

"Then why did you do it?" The very confused tone would be amusing, if he wasn't so sleepy. He imagines Sasuke slowly blinking his eyes, blushing with a small smile, and decides it was one that he wanted a picture of. "Wanted to spend some more time with you, it's been too long, been too busy." he drowsily answers, eyes drooping after staying up so long.

"I'm sure it was very troublesome, I appreciate you for doing that, dear." Sasuke whispers to his temple, nuzzling his hair. "It was..trouble..some."

Shikamaru wants to stay up, fighting against his consciousness but sleep is pulling him under, warm and secure in Sasuke's embrace.

The last things he hears is, "Sleep, Shi, I'm right here."

"We still have forever to spend time on, just rest for now." Part 2 | Sasuke

[angryschnauzer]

Last Night on the Plain

Summary; As an archeology student at the end of your first year of University, you spend the summer on a dig in the South of England. Throughout the whole dig you’ve lusted after the site-lead; a fresh out of his doctorate Dr Cavill, assigned to the dig to get some leadership experience. Will the last night you spend on Salisbury Plain be one to remember?

(This fic is a prequel to my multichapter story Superior Specimen it can be read alone but contains spoilers for that story) Links for Superior Specimen: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Pairing: Grad Student Henry Cavill x 19 year old Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Mutual Pining, Professor/Student Relationship, Oral Sex, Blow Job, Fingering, Unprotected Sex. SPOILERS FOR Superior Specimen.

I do not operate a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you will get an alert every time i post a new fic.

Please check out my AO3 for masterlist.

Last Night on the Plain

 Sitting on the kerb outside Iceland, the little town of Warminster was quiet on a Saturday afternoon. The Land Rover would soon be coming through to pick you and your friends up, the dig site lead having driven a few of you into town to collect supplies for the last night of the six week long dig. 

 Six weeks of living in tents, running to the nearby stream to dive into the Watercress filled waters and wash, rinsing your underwear in a bucket and hanging over guy ropes of the tents and hoping the cows in the next field over don’t lean over the fence and eat them, six weeks of celebrating the end of your first year of University. 

 You loved Archaeology, having studied hard for your A-Levels at college, you got the grades to go to Southampton University to study it. The dig would contribute towards your yearly grade, teaming up with other uni’s from around England, the excavations on the far west of Salisbury Plain in the south of England, and the project was to uncover settlements from when the giant pillars of Stonehenge were moved from their starting point in Wales and anything from the trade routes over the following millennia. 

 Your friend nudged you in the ribs, nodding to the vehicle heading towards the three of you;

 “Hey hey, here comes Cav”

 “Dibs on shotgun” you blurted out, your friends groaning at your speed at calling the front seat.

 Standing, the three of you watched as the site lead pulled up to the kerb, his big smile at seeing you misfits waiting for him made your stomach do a little flip. He brought the Land Rover to a bumpy halt at the kerb, leaving the engine running as he got out and helped load the supplies into the back, reaching the front passenger door just in time to hold it open for you. You missed the way he looked at your ass as you climbed in, shutting the door after you.

 The ride back to the dig site was bumpy; 30-year-old Land Rovers weren’t known for their comfort, the lack of seatbelts in the vintage vehicle not helping as the country roads and tracks were littered with potholes. You were painfully aware of the way your breasts were bouncing around, having foregone bras within the first week of the dig. They pinched and prodded you as you bent over excavating for hours on end and became an unnecessary addition to have to bother keep washing by hand. 

 On one particularly vicious bump you were bounced across the narrow bench seat, grabbing at Cav’s leg before you ended up headbutting the steering wheel. He apologetically smiled at you;

 “Sorry…”

 “S’ok”

 You rode in silence for a while, the pair in the back deep in discussion about the merits of getting an upgrade from their Sony Ericsson’s to Blackberries. Finally your seatmate spoke;

 “So, pink, huh Punk?”

 You pulled at a strand of hair, holding it out from your head and grinned;

 “The Sun-In turned it orange. Orange isn’t my colour”

 “I left you in town for forty five minutes… how did you have time to dye your hair?” he said with a grin.

 “It’s Cherry flavour Panda Pop. We stood in the alley behind Ladbrokes and poured a bottle over my hair”

 He laughed, his toothy grin wide and genuine;

 “That explains the smell”

 “Hope you’re referring to the cherry and not the alley”

 His face paled and he stuttered, before you grinned and gave his thigh a squeeze;

 “I’m teasing”

 He smiled and turned his attention back to the road, concentrating on the journey now that the paved roads had finished and it was now dusty tracks across the farmland. You watched as he steered the vehicle, and you knew he was going to be your only regret of the summer. Dr Cavill, or Cav as everyone called him on site, fresh having finished his doctorate in Palaeontology, but desperately in need of some leadership skills and experience on how to run a site dig.  He was cute. Tall and fit, gorgeous blue eyes and high cheekbones, both of which were regularly hidden by his mop of soft chestnut brown hair. When he was deep in concentration he would nibble at his lip and it only made them plumper. 

 You were so in your little dream world that when he made the sharp right hand turn into the field the dig was in you lost your grip, your hand sliding from its spot on his thigh to in between his legs, your head low on his stomach;

 “Oh!”

 He slowed the Land Rover as you scrambled back to your seat, his cheeks flushed and pink.

 “Sorry…”

 -

 The campfire was down to its last embers, the sun almost fully set. It was the last night of the dig and you were all celebrating. The finds had been fantastic, everything catalogued and recorded, friendships hatched and grown, sunburn peeling away to reveal soft skin, leave-in bleach hair sprays and nights of passing around a three litre bottle of White Lightning - the cheapest by volume cider you could find. Cav had excused himself to his tent, not often joining the students for the latter parts of drinking, and the nights argument was whether or not it was too late to walk the three miles to the Red Lion pub in Heytesbury.

 “You guys go. I’m gonna take one last look at the north end trench, see if i can find my amethyst necklace I lost last week”

 “Punk, you’re drunk, it’s getting dark too!”

 “I’m not drunk, I’ve had a few sips of Cider, and I’ve got a head torch”

 “Fine, suit yourself”

 -

 Brushing through the sandy soil you were yet to find your necklace, but as the friction under the brush suddenly changed you looked closer, smiling when you saw what was revealed. 

 Minutes later you stood at his tent, calling out;

 “Cav? I’ve found something…”

 He appeared in the doorway, the camping lantern illuminating his tent as it sat on the table where he would write his notes and inspect finds;

 “Hey! What have you…” he saw the shards of pottery you were holding in your hands, his eyes going wide; “You found the last parts?”

 Nodding you smiled. Throughout the dig the team had discovered finds from multiple era’s, and one he’d found was the majority of shards from a Roman Pot, an urn that would have been used to carry Olive Oil all the way from the southernmost parts of the Roman Empire. You knew that it had been frustrating him that all his attempts to reassemble the urn had failed, the missing pieces seemingly integral to the structure.

 He pulled the tent flap to the side for you to enter, setting the pieces down onto the table before straddling the bench that sat beside it. Cav came over and grabbed the tray that held the other parts, a ball of blu-tack nestled in the corner;

 “This is amazing! It looks like all the missing pieces are here!” he turned to you, his eyes shining bright in the glow of the lamp; “I thought you all were going to the pub?”

 “I stayed… I wanted to have one last search for my necklace I lost last week”

 “Oh… did you find it?”

 “No. But this is so much better! C’mon, I wanna see if we can get this to fit together now!”

 His long legs meant he could step over the bench with ease, sitting down next to you and you watched as he started to push the pieces together, cradling them in his large handspan. Softening the blu-tack he pulled a little off and applied it to the edge of a piece, angling his arm at an awkward angle, cursing under his breath;

 “Could you…”

 “Sure” taking the piece from him he held the fragile urn in both hands as you bent over his arms and stuck it into place, moving onto the next piece, this time near his hand furthest from you. 

 Due to the angles you were struggling to see, before you spoke quietly;

 “Lean back a little”

 He did as you asked, extending his arms to full stretch as he held the artefact, letting out a squeak of surprise as you tucked yourself under one arm, shuffling to straddling his lap and sit;

 “Okay, now I can see what I’m doing…” you muttered as you pushed your ass back against him, the whole thing completely innocent, but you were unaware of the look of panic on his face, how he was afraid he was going to crack a tooth from gritting his jaw, willing his dick not to get hard.

 He was now rendered to simply holding the urn in place, he was unable to concentrate, however you had taken over the placement of the new pieces, slotting them into their gaps, the blu-tack holding them secure. As you slid the final piece in you sat back, resting your back against his chest, smoothing your hands over his as you both took in the piece of pottery that dated back two millennia;

 “It's stunning…” you muttered.

 He softly brushed his thumbs over the sides of your hands, and you felt the warm puff of breath on your neck as he spoke;

 “So are you…”

 You let out a breathy sigh, your back arching and you could feel he was hard, the bulge against your ass pressing incessantly against you. Resting your head against his shoulder you turned your head and his lips caught your own. The world stopped and you saw stars as those soft pink pillows caressed your lips, moaning into his mouth and he took the chance to slip his tongue against yours.

 Somehow the two of you managed to gently rest the delicate artefact back onto the tray in the midst of your fledgling passion, his hands intertwining with yours, fingers laced together as his tongue worked magic with your own.

 When you broke the kiss you were gasping for air, his mouth finding your neck as he kissed along your exposed shoulder and neck, his sharp teeth dragging against your skin and making you moan;

 “Oh… oh fuck… yes…”

 He stopped for a moment, his hands still entwined with yours but he wrapped his arms around your body;

 “Tell me to stop… tell me this is wrong, I’m your supervisor…”

 “It’s the last night… let’s give ourselves this night… Just promise not to fall in love with me…”

 “It may be too late for that already” he murmured against your skin, but you were lost in the haze of lust to comprehend his words.

 Your hands finally parted, his slipping beneath your strappy t-shirt, yours reaching back to curl into his hair as his tongue danced patterns over your neck again. You were writhing on his lap, lost in the moment when suddenly the bench tipped, the two of you falling back and landing on the ground. 

 You moved first, rolling off before turning and straddling him, leaning over to catch his lips with your own as you ground your clothed core against the bulge in his tented shorts;

 “I’ve wanted to feel you between my thighs for the last six weeks” you muttered against his earlobe, pressing kisses to his jawline as his hands found your ass and pulled you firmly down onto his body; “The amount of times I’ve gotten myself off in silence as I thought about sneaking into your tent…”

 He could only let out a guttural moan, and as your hands found the edge of his t-shirt you parted so you could strip him of it. 

 You sat back, pressing yourself down harder against his growing erection as you admired his smooth and pale chest, the tiniest crop of hairs right in the centre, delicate muscle definition but still slim and athletic. You watched his face as you trailed your fingers down the length of his long body, finally brushing against the thin trail of hairs that led from his navel into his shorts. You shifted back a little, unfastening the button on his Khaki shorts and unzipping him, reaching into his underwear and grasping his hot length before pulling him free of the cotton confinements. 

 Bending you took him into your mouth, sliding your tongue over his hot flesh as you swallowed around him, bobbing your head up and down. His hands found your head, pressing gently to tell you the speed he liked, a string of curses falling from his lips as you rapidly drove him to the brink of pleasure. It didn’t take long until he let out an ‘uh-oh’ and you slid a hand up his stomach, his own grasping at it as he started to cum in your mouth. You swallowed all that he gave you, his back arching as he thrust up into the warm comfort between your lips, before his body went limp. 

 Pulling off him his hands gripped at your arms, pulling you up his chest until you were laying on top of him;

 “You’ll need to give me a moment… then I’ll be right with you…”

 You grinned and pressed a kiss to his bite swollen lips before standing, and he pushing himself up to rest on his elbows, a look of panic on his face before you grinned at him;

 “Chill… just getting more comfy…”

 You pulled your top off and dropped it to the ground, unfastening your combat shorts and let them fall too, kicking off your flipflops before you were standing there in just your knickers, your thumbs hooked over the sides before he finally spoke;

 “I want to be the one to take those off…”

 He quickly stood and pulled you over to the double air mattress he had in his tent, watching you lay back against his sleeping bag as he stripped himself of the rest of this clothing. As he climbed on he crawled up your body, and it was then that you saw the tiniest patch of brown in the sea of his blue eyes. You were mesmerized by it as he lay over you, your legs parting as he rutted against you, already growing hard again. He moved to your side and slid a hand down the length of your sternum, over your soft stomach and into your underwear, feeling how the thin cotton was soaked through with your arousal. Sitting up he pulled the ruined scrap of fabric down your legs, looking at your soaked petals as he parted them with his long fingers, finding your sensitive nub and rubbing delicate circles against it, before sliding his hand down and pushing two fingers into your soaked hole;

 “Fuck… you feel so tight…”

 “I need you… I need you inside me…”

 “I don’t… I don’t have any protection…” he looked pained to admit what could be the stopping point of the night.

 “I’m on the pill… been taking it continually so I didn’t get a period whilst on the dig…you can go bare…”

His eyes went wide, he’d had a number of lovers over his years at University, and he was well into his mid 20’s, but he had always used condoms, never wanting the girl to have to take the responsibility for their tryst… he had never gone bare but just at the mere thought of sliding into your heat, to feel your hot wetness against his skin, it made him as hard as a rock.

 He scissored his fingers inside you before shifting, pulling them from you as he positioned himself between your thighs, the light from the lantern casting long shadows over your bodies. He rested his tip against your folds, taking a moment to lick your juices from his fingers, then with a smirk he started to press into you.

 With each passing inch your eyes fluttered shut, not realising you were missing the look on his face as he found heaven between your legs. The feel of your pussy around him was almost suffocating, hugging him so tight as he slid in with ease from your arousal;

 “Oh my god… you feel so fucking good… you’re gonna have to tell me how you like it, cos’ I don’t think I’m going to last long…” he muttered.

 Wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a fierce kiss, all teeth and tongues whilst your body grew accustomed to his impressive length inside you, the biggest you had ever taken;

 “Hard and fast, I was made to be broken… break me…”

At your words something changed in him, pushing his body onto his arms as he started to rut into you, watching your juices shine on his dick as he pulled out, only to slam back in as your body took every inch of him, your silken channel hugging him tight. The tent was filled with the wet slap of skin on skin, and knowing you were the only ones on site your voices rose, your moans filling the night sky. 

 Your body was bucking beneath him, shaking from pleasure and he could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer. He desperately wanted to feel you come around him, pushing a hand between your bodies he rubbed furiously at your clit, feeling your body tighten and your back arch, and as you came your body trembled around him. 

 The feeling was indescribable, he was so deep in pleasure that when his back arched and he came deep inside you he let out a roar, his eyes screwed shut as he filled you with his come, finally going limp, his arms shaking from the exertion of holding himself above you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him on top of you, burying your face in his neck as you breathed in his scent.

 Finally finding his voice he whispered quietly;

 “Stay with me tonight”

 Wrapped in the sleeping bag and blankets you did just that, curled up in his arms and the warmth of his embrace.

 -

 Henry was woken by the sounds of the camp being broken down, the crews from the various universities packing up their things as the minibuses arrived to take them back to the halls of residences or shared houses. He was alone in his bed, and as he sat up he could hear your voice yelling out to your tent-mates to ‘pick up your fucking stuff’. 

 In the hours that followed various vehicles turned up on site, his own supervisors, benefactors and sponsors of the dig, all very excited by the finds and reports, and especially of the assembled Roman Urn. At every moment he tried to get away, tried to find a moment to talk to you, but as the minutes and hours ticked by the window was closing. 

 You were all packed up, everything in the old minibus. Every time you had looked across the site he was talking to someone important looking, never getting a moment where he was alone. The driver of your minibus honked the horn and you panicked;

 “Hang on, I’ve just got one more thing to do…”

 You ran across the site and he saw you, excusing himself from the people he was talking to and managed to intercept you behind the old Ford Transit van that was taking the equipment away. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your lips;

 “I didn’t want you to leave before I got to say goodbye”

 Your bottom lip trembled, your voice shaking;

 “I’ve left my number on a piece of paper on your table, its tucked under the tray with the urn on”

 He let out a sigh of relief, nodding before kissing you again, the sound of your minibus driver honking the horn impatiently.

 You reluctantly pulled out of his arms, giving him a final wave before running to the bus, and he watched from the side of the van as you climbed in, the vehicle driving off into the distance as a cloud of dust trailed behind it.

 “Henry!” an older male voice called out cheerfully. 

 Rubbing his palms over his face he took a deep breath, before turning and smiling at his supervising professor;

 “Hey, good to see you Sir”

 The older man clapped a hand over Henry’s shoulder;

 “You’ve done an amazing job on this dig… the reports that came in have been exemplary. You had all the same students at the end of the dig as at the start which I’ll have you know is a particular skill… some site leads drive students away in droves!”

 Leading Henry back towards the dig site he waxed lyrical about Henry’s skill and how he showed true leadership skills, turning to another gentleman that was leaning against Henry’s Land Rover;

 “Have you met Piers?”

 Henry shook his head, he knew who he was being introduced to, the CEO of the most prestigious museum in the UK and some would say the world with regards to Archaeology and Palaeontology. Shaking the man’s hand he was speechless;

 “We’ve been following the dig reports, your talent is something I haven’t seen for many years… we’d like to discuss a position on our expedition board with you…”

 “Y-yes… that would be fantastic! Thank you”

 “Now, let’s see that Roman urn I’ve been hearing all about…”

 Leading the men to his tent he lifted the tray, pulling it out into the sunshine as they took in the beauty of it, no-one noticing the small scrap of paper catch on the wind and slipping out of the tent, Henry too distracted by the reality of being hired for his dream job.

 -

 Many Years Later.

 Henry grinned as his team crowed around him, the heat of the Siberian Summer seeping into their pores. In broken Russian the students were laughing and shouting, before three of them carried the massive femur bone they’d excavated a few days previously over to Henry, heaving it into his massive arms.

 “Smile!” someone shouted out and he heard the clicks of phone camera shutters, before he gently rested it onto the soft ground, chatting to the team as he did so.

 That night they hit the bars of the nearest town, Henry smiling when he saw one had wifi, connecting his phone and uploading a few updates to the dig account and also his own. An hour later he checked his phone and saw his Instagram notifications, one account name in particular catching his attention; @thepunkwiththepinkhair

 It couldn't be, could it?

 It was. It was you. The pink may be gone, but he had finally found you again.

*******************************************************************************

Thank you for reading!

Some explanations of British shops/brands;

Iceland = a budget supermarket chain

White Lightning = cheap, harsh apple cider, sold in bottles that are 3000ml/a gallon for around £5.00 (USD7/EURO6)

Panda Pop = very cheap fizzy drink, full of additives, artificial colours, sugar.

Ladbrokes - a chain of gambling shops.

Sun-in - spray in hair bleach that you would spritz on your hair and go out in the sunshine, and it would bleach your hair. Apparently it was meant to give you ‘sun kissed highlights’, but when i was 18 i turned my hair bright orange with it.

In the UK University starts when you are 18, and a degree lasts 3 or 4 years. You can then do a ‘post graduate course’ which is another year of studying, and if you want to work towards your doctorate, it can be another 4-7 years on top of that, which is why Henry in this story is literally fresh out of studying even though he is approximately 25 years old.

[beeexx]

Fic: Autumn 

4 tattoos on TK’s body, 4 stories set over each of the 4 season. Carlos and TK grow closer.

Read part one here or read the whole thing on ao3, see the end notes there for more of my comments.  

-----------

It’s been raining on and off for weeks now, the humidity thick in the air, mixing badly with the chillier temperatures in the mornings and evenings, the sky looking a lot like someone’s taken a paintbrush to it and permanently painted it a depressing colour of grey that’s never going to disappear. Carlos is either constantly overdressed or underdressed and the uncertainty of the days, the constant rain, and the stress he’s been under for a few weeks now has made him extremely tired.

Which is why he and TK’s had a fight. They don’t often do this, Carlos has the patience of a saint, he knows this, Owen’s told him that on numerous occasions when TK’s been a little difficult and Owen’s been struggling to not lose his own temper, even TK’s gratefully expressed that too on a few occasions. So yes, he is very aware of how calm and patient he can be. But today Carlos has had a bad day at work and he’s tired and it’s just his luck that today of all days clashes with one of TK’s bad days, where he is anxious and too wrapped up in his own head to really be able to read signals.

Carlos doesn’t fault TK for this, of course not, but when his boyfriend is being uncooperative and uncommunicative, and not having had the strength to not drink that fourth cup of coffee today, their moods are doomed to clash. And it turns into a fight over something really stupid that causes TK to slam the bedroom door shut and for Carlos to kind of want to cry as it rattles on its hinges, that’s how much he feels that everything is too much right now. 

He’s bent over the stove, staring angrily at the uncooked chicken in the pan and wishes he could set it on fire or something, that would maybe make him feel fractionally better. Carlos really doesn’t want to fight, and he really doesn’t want to fight with TK, but even he has bad days where all signals go straight over the other one’s head and the answer ‘I’m fine’ with a foot bouncing unrelentlessly while hanging off the chair with a nose in phone, means that TK is definitely not fine, sometimes that doesn’t always translate for Carlos. Particularly not on a day like this.

He knows most of the signs and tells when TK is anxious, has been through one anxiety attack triggered by a nightmare with him where he might have remained totally collected on the outside while on the inside his heart broke in two because his boyfriend was on the floor telling him he couldn’t breathe and that image is doomed to haunt him for a long time. It was scary, but he’s seen panic before and he recognized the signs immediately and they talked through it afterwards and moved past it, well adjusted to deal with it in the future.

And TK isn’t selfish, he’s pretty good at reading Carlos’ in return, but not on the days where Carlos is strung so tightly he could snap in half due to days full of picking kids up from places where their parents are fighting with fists, bloody from the violence and almost always on something while the kids are hiding, their faces blank without tears because they’ve been through it too many times by then to know it doesn’t help. He doesn’t know what’s worse, that they’ve seen too much of this already, that it’s become so normalised for them they’ve already accepted it, or when they see it for the first time and Carlos is forced to gather them up in his arms, talk to them or sing to distract from the vicious yelling from the other room while child services are being called and the parents are dragged away in handcuffs screaming bloody murder. Yeah, sometimes he hates his job.

So, it’s been a bad day and coming home to a TK that is a nervous ball of tightly strung energy too, is not a good combination.

Carlos exhales, feels absolutely exhausted by now and he’s honestly ready to just go to sleep on the couch and forget about everything. He hears the bedroom door open, prepares himself for some short clipped words from TK informing him that he’s going home to his dad to sleep, instead, and this goes to show how upset and distracted he is, when TK steps in close and wraps his arms around him instead. He freezes for a moment, rendered shocked before he snaps out of it, covering TK’s hands with his own. 

He’s about to turn around so he can hug back for real when he feels TK’s arms slip from his, hurt he turns to look at TK, but TK’s already taken his hand in his, tugs on it until Carlos follows him, and walks him over to the couch. Gently he pushes him down on it, and Carlos goes willingly, at first not understanding what TK is doing. He gets the hint that TK wants him to lie down though, and when he does TK wordlessly climbs on top of him, laying down, covering him with his body. Dumbstruck he puts his arms around TK, feels his calming breathing on top of him, and somehow he calms down himself. TK winds his own arms around him too and with the both of them on top of each other like this, it’s a snug fit on the small couch. But it doesn’t matter, having TK near calms him immediately.  

“I’m sorry.” TK whispers. “I didn’t mean to be difficult.” Carlos shakes his head.

“No, it’s okay, I’m very sorry too.”

“I know work’s been a lot for you recently and I should have been more considerate, it’s just, it’s hard for me sometimes when I get stuck in my head to see that you’re struggling too.” He admits and Carlos nods, he understands.

“And I’m not leaving, I promise.” It makes Carlos stop for a moment, the words taking him by surprise because while it’s been hanging over them from the beginning that TK’s been scared that Carlos is going to leave him because he’s has got it into his head that he’s going to be too much and have too much baggage for it to be fair to Carlos to have to deal with it too, Carlos cannot help but feel the exact same at times as well. Especially when TK is upset and angry and on the rare occasions that they do fight, that he’ll leave. Not for long, but for a few hours and the thought of that is just too much for him sometimes that it makes him not think clearly, panicked into apathy almost. 

“I’m in it for the long run I promise.” Carlos tightens his arms around him, breathes him in, feels the weight of TK ground him into the couch, and he focuses on that feeling of safety, allowing it to embrace him for a moment as he swallows down the tears.

“I know.” He whispers, hears his voice waver slightly. “I know, but it’s nice to hear you say it nonetheless.” 

TK sits up, rests his elbow on either side of Carlos and wipes the escaping tear away gently, and kisses his cheek.

“I love you Carlos, I’m not leaving.”

“I know…”

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned and Carlos shrugs, not totally used to being on the receiving end of TK’s worry. It makes him feel a little odd but he’s also understanding TK’s own hesitancy to opening up to Carlos in the beginning of their relationship, it’s scary.

“Work has not been easy recently. It’s just been a lot of bad stuff involving kids and social services and drugs, it’s making me feel useless. These kids, they deserve better and most of them just want their parents to love them. Separating them like this feels inhumane.” He admits, shakes his head to prevent more tears from escaping. 

TK nods but he winces and he has that rare look on his face, one Carlos knows means that he wants to protect him, wishes he could carry some of the burden for Carlos himself. It’s the same look he gets when he’s on call and he has to deal with a particularly difficult rescue, where instincts kick in and he will do everything he can to save the person.

It’s strange but Carlos recognises it’s deeply meaningful to be on the receiving end of it, Carlos can’t imagine there’s many people alive that TK cares this deeply about.

“I’m very very sorry about that.”

“Yeah...me too. But taking it out on you when you’re clearly not feeling your best either is not okay and I’m sorry.”

“I know you didn’t mean to and I wasn’t exactly helping my case along by being inconsiderate.”

“Agreed then that we both made mistakes?” Carlos says, his lip twitching a little and TK nods, smile small.

“Yeah, agreed.” He leans forward and kisses Carlos’ nose, a soft gentle gesture and it lodges something fiercely in his throat for a moment, making him gulp down the tears. 

But it makes him feel better too, and the tough and long day has started to diminish slightly by now when he feels warm and loved and comforted by the love of his life.

“Tell me about your day.” He tells TK and he huffs but smiles softly and nods, leans down again and while he talks he keeps placing butterfly light kisses on Carlos’ exposed skin, making his heart flutter in love.

He talks for a bit and Carlos hums and nods and doesn’t say much, starts to feel himself drifting off but feeling too tired to stop it.

…..

He wakes by the cascading sound of water against his windows, sits up confused as to where he is for a moment and why there is a blanket draped over him, the loud noise alerting him to the roaring storm outside. The living room light is off but the kitchen ones are on and there are two steaming plates of food standing on the counter, TK absent. He yawns, stretches and gets up in search of his boyfriend. It doesn’t take long, he comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered and wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt of Carlos’, a little loose around the arms. He smiles when he spots Carlos is up and comes close, wrapping his arms around him. He looks better Carlos notes, less burdened than when earlier. 

“Hi.” He smiles. Carlos can’t help but smile back, loving it when he gets to see TK like this, completely at ease, facade gone, face open and soft looking in clothes that belong to him. 

He feels his heart grow in size and he leans down, kisses his boyfriend and hopes it conveys everything he feels that he can’t find the words for at the moment. TK seems to appreciate it and somehow understand it too, he hums, wraps his arms tighter around his neck and gives in to the kiss completely. He could do this forever, but he’s hungry and whatever there is that TK’s made smells lovely, so he breaks the kiss and TK kisses his nose before he steps back, but only a little, still keeping close to Carlos.

“You cooked.” He comments lifting an eyebrow. TK shrugs, a little unsure.

“Yeah, I have no idea what you had planned to make before the fight but you fell asleep and I thought you might appreciate some food when you woke up.” Carlos' heart melts, he loves him so much. 

TK looks back and Carlos kisses him again, taking the breath out of him as TK’s surprise becomes evident. Carlos steps back and TK looks dazed, he blinks and Carlos smiles.

“Thank you, I love it.” And a shy little smile breaks across TK’s smile, relief mixing with love.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I am starving.”

“Good.” They step apart to sit down and the evening that started out horrendously turns into something soft and beautiful instead, both of them tucked away into a little bubble of light while it rains heavily outside, unbeknownst to them. 

After dinner and the dishes have been cleaned away they move to the couch again, Carlos also having changed out of his jeans to fully enjoy the downtime. An episode of Criminal Minds is playing on TV, not Carlos’ favourite thing to watch when he wants to relax, but TK enjoys it and has taken to asking Carlos questions about what they do being realistic or not. 

He’s not paying attention to the episode though, his attention is on TK more than anything else right now, his head in Carlos’ lap, eyes attentive on the screen, his hair soft and loose, having been left unstyled after the shower, breathing slow and calm. He’s stroking a hand up and down his arm, making goosebumps erupt on his skin, something he delights a little too much in doing. 

The sleeve of the shirt has risen up, and there is one of TK’s many different tattoos. This one is the SOS one, the world as the O and it’s pretty, Carlos actually likes it a lot, can’t help but be curious about it too. He moves his hand over it, fingers gently hovering above it until he has TK’s full attention. It takes a while for him to notice that the stroking has stopped and he moves his head, frowning slightly.

“What is it?” He asks, Carlos smiles, a little cheekily.

“What about this one.” He taps gently at the underside of his upper arm and TK’s eyes move to it. When he gets what Carlos is asking he huffs but he nimbly moves and lies down on his back, meeting Carlos’ eyes. Carlos gets a pillow from behind himself, motions for TK to move and puts it under his head making it more comfortable for him.

“Okay this one really doesn’t have as deep a meaning as the other one, just to warn you.”

“It doesn’t have to be deep.” He reassures. “I just want to know more about you.” TK’s eyes go soft for a moment and he draws in a sharp breath.

“I love you so much.” He whispers and Carlos smiles brilliantly, leans forward and kisses TK. 

The angle is all wrong and kissing upside down really isn’t as sexy as they make it out to be in films, not that it matters, the action, softly kissing someone he loves is all that matters.

“I love you too.” He sits back.

“Okay, well this really isn’t that deep. But you know I love the ocean?” Carlos nods.

“Well I went on a trip with some friends to California for a weekend when I was younger and there was this activism group that was protesting and advocating for the protection of our seas so I stopped and talked with one of the guys and he was really passionate about it. I learnt a lot from him and I guess it just kick started my own passion for the sea.”

“Yeah?”

“But the tattoo came after a drunk night out, same trip though, where I flirted with the tattoo artist for long enough to make him agree to do it even though I very obviously wasn’t sober.”

“You little menace.” TK flashes him a cheeky grin, clearly proud of the achievement.

“Well the tattoo turned out nice though.” He strokes his thumb appreciatively over it and TK nods.

“It did.” 

“What happened with the dude?”

“I went home with him for the night.” Carlos snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Of course you did.” TK chuckles.

“But yes the tattoo turned out nice, it really did. Not that I am against putting tattoos or piercings or stuff on your body that don’t have any meaning. But I guess it’s nice when some of them do.”

“It’s art, I like it on you, adds another layer to you, as well as making you hot as hell.”

“Yeah?” TK lifts an eyebrow, intrigued now, fishing for details, wanting more. Carlos chuckles but he can’t really resist TK when he looks at him like he does now, biting at his lip, knowing of course exactly what he’s doing to Carlos. 

“You are a menace.” TK chuckles, sits up, easily turning around planting himself in Carlos’ lap, kicking away the pillow.

“Yep, but you love it.”

“I do.” He says leaning forward, meeting TK in the middle. 

They don’t last too long on the couch because after becoming an actual well adjusted couple both of them prefer having sex in the bedroom, it makes for much more intimacy than a quickie on this small couch do for either of them these days. Not that they are exactly opposed to having sex a bit all over the place at Carlos’, but after the evening they’ve had, the bedroom it defintiely is.

Carlos turns off the TV, carries his boyfriend easily enough to his bedroom and closes the door behind them.

[forever-rogue]

Disappear Here - 1/4

A/N: So, I’ve decided to turn this into a little series because I have no sense of brevity, and why not? So here’s part 1, which I hope you enjoy! As always, feedback is welcome! xx

Based on this blurb

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

ALTERNATIVE ENDING

SEQUEL

»»————-　♡　————-«« 

One Year Ago

You felt your eyes growing heavy as you tried  to follow along to the late night rerun of a telenovela that was currently playing on one of the local channels. It was the only thing that was illuminating the small living room, everything else was bathed in darkness, much like your heart at the moment. You’d been sitting there for some time, ever since you’d gotten home from the embassy, in a vain attempt to keep your mind occupied. If you tried to focus all your energy into trying to keep up with the rapid Spanish, maybe no dark thoughts would impede the light buzz that was flowing through your veins . 

The empty wine bottle on the coffee table was supposed to help aid in your plan to chase away all the negative thoughts there were creeping in at the idea of Javier still being gone. He was supposed to be back today, supposed to be back in the office along with Steve, but neither of them had returned. It had been nothing but radio silence from their end.

Instead, you’d spent the day performing all sorts of menial tasks around the office, waiting for either of your partners to bursting in through the door and announcing their triumphant return. 

But it never came. 

Instead you were only met with silence, the only sounds that met your ears were those of people passing by in the hallway and someone occasionally popping their head in to say hello. Your face lit up every time, thinking maybe you’d get a glimpse of Peña’s smirk or Murphy’s soft smile; instead it was just another coworker whose name you didn’t know, or care to know. 

By midday, you’d gotten the entire shared office space clean and organized, going so far as to even clean the dingy windows, and caught up on paperwork that you’d been avoiding for weeks. 

But even after all that, you still had time to spare.

When you couldn’t take the deafening silence any longer, you stormed out of the much too quiet office and stormed into Ambassador’s Noonan’s office, not even bothering to knock, only throwing the door open as you walked to the front of her desk. She barely lifted her eyes from the papers splayed across her desk as you stood in front her, your arms crossed definitely over your chest. 

“Agent L/N,” it was almost mocking, cold, and you could see she really wasn’t too keen on listening to any problem that you were about to present her with. There were days when you hated her, wishing you could jump over the desk dividing you and wringing sense into her; other days you were glad that she was around, knowing that no matter how harsh and stern she was, she had your backs...more or less.

“Murphy and Peña aren’t back yet,” you didn’t bother to waste time with formalities, deciding to lay the facts on her instead, “they were supposed to be back in the office today. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of them.”

“I’m well aware that they were supposed to be back,” she flicked her eyes up to meet yours for a moment before turning back to her papers, “and just what is the issue?”

“They’re missing!”

“No one is considered missing for at least forty-eight hours,” she explained as you openly groaned. You knew that. But they weren’t just any sort of civilians, they were DEA agents, and more importantly, your partners, your friends, “and they technically still have several hours left in the work day to return before the clock starts ticking.”

“You don’t understand -”

“No, you don’t understand, L/N,” she barked and slammed the papers down on her desk, causing you to jump back in surprise, “this is how things work sometimes. This is a dangerous field, there are risks involved and sometimes you just have to accept that. You have to be all in to do this job, and I expect that even a rookie such as yourself understands that.”

“I-...”

“I get you want to do the right thing and you’re concerned with the welfare of your partners, but you have to learn to get over these types of things,” you were rendered speechless, taking a step back at her harsh words. You knew this was a dangerous job, that going after Escobar was an almost certain deathwish, but you had still agreed to do it, and you still wanted to hold onto some sense of humanity, not just be a cold shell that went through the motions every day. Maybe that was the rookie part of you after all, “perhaps you’d do well to remember that Murphy and Peña are just your partners. Especially Peña; I am not immune to the rumors and follies that float around in this office. And if you can’t remember that, maybe you’d best start looking for another job.”

“With all due respect, Ambassador-”

“This conversation is over,” she didn’t bother to spare a final glance before gathering her papers back together, “come back and see me in a few days if they still aren’t back, and then we’ll take the next steps. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you struggled to hold back your tears, feeling them prick at the back of your eyes as you rushed out of her office. You knew she was right, at least to a certain extent, but it didn’t make your current predicament any easier. 

At this point you were sure that you couldn’t handle staying in the office any longer, so you grabbed your stuff and headed home, stopping by a corner market to pick up cheap wine to keep you company for the evening. It was better than being stuck all alone with only your thoughts after all; having flashes of Pena and Murphy somehow getting killed was starting to drive you crazy. 

But despite your best efforts, nothing held your attention for long, which was precisely why you had resorted to watching programs in Spanish, trying your best to follow along with what they were saying. Spanish wasn’t your strong suit, you’d grasped the basics and then some, all the slang and curses of course (the latter part mostly thanks to Javier), and could hold a conversation well enough, but it was nothing compared to Javier’s natural fluency. Even if you looked like you might somehow actually belong in Columbia, your accent and lack of comprehension gave you away every time, as you stared at the person with your big wide doe eyes (that little comment was courtesy of Murphy). Javier enjoyed teasing you about it every time. You didn’t mind.

You sighed to yourself as you realized that you might never see him again. Your last interaction with him had hardly been a proper goodbye

“I can’t believe you told that witch to keep me away from this,” you glared at Javier as he started to gather supplies, Murphy closely following behind him. When he didn’t respond, you just shoved his chest, which quickly got his attention. He easily captured your wrists in his large hands and gave you a stern look, “you’re an asshole, Javi. Even Carrillo thinks I can handle myself just find out in the field.”

“I don’t give a shit what Carrillo thinks,” his voice was low, signaling the end of conversation as he released you from his strong grip. You looked over at Murphy, who was busy intently pretending not to be listening to your exchange. He was going to be of no help to you.

“Well I do,” you were just trying to get a rouse out of him; if he wasn’t going to let you come, you might as well annoy him, “Carrillo is a better everything than you could ever wish to be.”

“You think so, huh?” you’d gotten under skin, you could immediately tell by the way the muscles in his shoulders tensed, and the almost growl he adopted. You put your hands on your hips, eyebrow raised as you just nodded at him, “listen here, kid. This is dangerous. You think you know what to expect out there, you think you know what’s it like out there? You haven’t even seen a dead body, have you? You really think you could go out there and handle that?”

“This is my job-”

“You’re still green,” he insisted, “and this is not the time or place for you to suddenly decide to be the hero. I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” you insisted, the way his voice had softened with his last words not lost on you, “I can handle myself.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he sighed heavily as he exchanged a look with Murphy, “you’re staying here and that is final. And if I hear even the slightest hint of you trying to weasel your way in from anyone else, I’ll have your ass on the first flight back to the States.”

“I’m insufferable?” you threw up your hands in exasperation at him. He was so thick skulled and stubborn sometimes, it drove you up the wall, “what about you, old man? Scared of what will happen if I get there and make you look bad?”

“I have it had it up to here-”

“Will the two of you just shut up already?” Murphy had finally had enough of the two bickering back and forth. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence by any means, no, the two of you were constantly up in arms. Sometimes it was over the who made the better shitty office coffee, his incessant chain smoking, your habit of wearing high heels, his use of informants. Everything. But the two of you were starting to get on his last nerve, which said enough considering that Murphy was a patient man.

“Steve-”

“Just stop arguing and fuck already,” he said and you immediately felt all the blood in your body flow to your face, sure you were just as flushed as you as deep red tomato. You didn’t dare look at Javier for fear of the expression on his face, “or do whatever you need to in order to stop getting at each other’s throats all the time. You’re worse than children.”

“Well, you’re both the worst,” it was the only thing retort you could come with after his little outburst. You kept your back turned to Javier as you stormed out of the storage locks without another word, “have fun or whatever. Don’t get shot, I guess.”

You cringed slightly at the memory, wishing it had gone slightly smoother than that. You seriously hoped that wasn’t the last interaction you’d have with either of them, especially Javier. You didn’t know what you would do if that was the last time you’d gotten to see him. 

But you pushed the memories to the back of your mind as you  felt the sweet lull of slumber finally start to win over, a loud, booming knock came at your door causing you to jump and almost fall off of the couch. You sighed heavily before collecting yourself and pausing to glance at the clock on the wall. It was nearing two in the morning - no one in their right mind should have been at your door. Your first thought was that it was someone coming after you, someone that had decided they had a vendetta against you, coming to make you pay for your sins. 

Instinctively, you moved to the kitchen and grabbed your gun, holding it in front of you as you headed towards the door, alarmed by another loud knock. Putting your hand on the knob, you swallowed the lump that had worked its way into your throat. You were suddenly wide awake as the adrenaline rushed through your veins. After mentally counting to five, you yanked the door open, gun cocked and aimed at whoever had decided to come after you, ready to pull the trigger and stand your ground. Maybe you were green, but you were confident in the fact that you could hold your own if you suddenly had to.

Instead of an enemy, you found yourself face to face with none other than Javier Peña.

“Javi,” his nickname rolled off your lips in a quiet whisper as you met his warm brown eyes, your own already stinging and on the verge of spilling over with tears. You felt like you could breathe again, waves of relief crashing down on you as you realized he was alive. But at a price. He looked tired, very tired, and worn out, his hair a mess and his clothes looking in need of a wash, much like the rest of his sweaty body. But he was alive, and that was the operative fact, and the only fact you cared about in that moment.

“Were you going to shoot me, kid?” he asked, his deep velvety voice reached your ears and causing your stomach to flutter slightly. He looked between you and your still outstretched hand before grabbing the gun, removing the cartridge of bullets, and tossing it to the side where it clanged to the ground with a loud metallic clang. He studied you silently, almost in a challenging way, trying to see which one of you would break down first. He was the one that had showed up on your doorstep after all.

But it wasn’t going to be you because you weren’t able to find any words. Instead you were frozen in time, your body humming with content as you realized that all of your worry had been for nothing. He was okay, he was alive, and he was currently mere inches away from you; you could feel his body heat radiating onto yours, his natural musk invading every bit of your senses. 

You had missed him more than you thought, for reasons that were known to you, but you would never speak out loud. You didn’t want to hear the words ever come out of your mouth because that would mean that they were true, that your feelings for Javi were more than just those of friends and partners. That your feelings were those that made it seem like he was the reason for all the glittering stars in the night sky, that he was your morning sunshine after a dark night of rain.

But Javier didn’t need you to say anything.

It all happened fast; so fast that you didn’t even have a chance to process what was going on before he put his hands on either side of your face and crashing his lips onto yours. It was needy, fast, bruising, and everything you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for. After reality hit you like a train,  you responded by throwing your arms around his neck, carding a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck as  his rough hands found your waist, his fingers quickly finding their way under the hem of your shirt and brushing along the soft skin.

It was hard and fast, the two of you expressing your desires without the use of words, only pulling apart when you needed a breath of air. You looked up at him and found him staring back at you, his eyes expressing an emotion you couldn’t quite place. It was intense, frightening, and most of all hungry. He was the hunter and you were his prey. 

“Y/N,” Javi’s voice was barely above a whisper as he kissed you a few more times, eventually finding your jaw and working his way down your neck. It took everything in your power not to moan out loud at his touch, at the feel of his lips on your delicate flesh, and you bit your lip as you kept your arms around his neck. But before you could let it go any further, something snapped inside you and you came to your senses and put your hands on his chest, a silent plea for him to stop. As much as you wanted him to continue, to somehow have it end up in your bedroom, with you under him as he gave you what you had been desperately wanting, you knew you shouldn’t. He was your partner, your friend, and on top of all of that, he was older and he had a reputation. 

It was a reputation he had earned for a reason, and that was enough for you to stop whatever might transpire before it got any further. 

“Javi,” you said as he pulled back from you, looking at you with concern written all over his face. You shook your head and took a step back from him, already saddened by the loss of his body against yours, “we...we shouldn’t do this. We can’t do this.”

You pointed between your bodies, biting your lip in a way that drove him crazy, not that he would ever admit that, and sighed. Sometimes your rationalism got the best of you, and you wished you could just throw it out the window. How you wished you could just have him then and there, to feel him all over your body.

“Why?” he asked quietly as he put a hand on your cheek before ghosting his fingers over the contours of your face, and he wondered, momentarily, why he’d waited so long to touch your soft skin.  Part if you wished you had let him continue, but the rational part of your brain told you that you’d done the right thing, “I thought...we...that there was something there? Between us.”

“We can’t,” you just repeated softly, “we’re friends...partners...this can only end in two ways, and neither of them are good.”

“Give me a good reason. Just one good reason,” he insisted and you knew he had a valid point, but you also both knew what you were trying to say, “tell me you don’t want this. Tell me I’ve been wrong in thinking that there was something between us this whole time. Tell me I’m wrong. And if you don’t want this, it stops here and I’ll walk away.

You looked at him silently for a few moments, his eyes pleading with yours, rendering you  unable to form a coherent thought; you wanted to tell him that he was right, but all you could see was looming heartbreak on the horizon, and you weren’t about to willingly put yourself through torture for nothing. Not with him or anyone else. 

Every other relationship you had had blown up into a million pieces in front of your very eyes. You weren’t able to subject yourself to that again, no matter how much you longed for him, no matter how many nights you spent alone in bed, thinking of him, wishing he was there with you. You finally, painstakingly, met his eyes, giving him a small grimace before shrugging your shoulders, “I...I don’t want this.”

A lie. A bold lie you both could easily see through. 

“Okay,” he took a step back, shaking his head at you as he tried to keep himself in check. He wanted to yell, to scream, to cry, something - anything. But instead, he moved silently towards the door, stepping through it without so much as another look at you, slamming it shut behind him. You winced slightly at the loud sound before slumping back down onto the couch. You gave the wine bottle a pathetic look, wishing you had more so you could block the events that had just transpired. 

Either you had just made the wisest decision of all, or you had possibly made the biggest mistake. 

It was a fine line between the two. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[thehollowprince]

Civil War Fixit #4

Parts One, Two, and Three (updated for easier browsing)

Notes: sorry for the long wait, but, as many of you know... life happens. Plus, ever since Endgame, I've been less than enthused about this whole universe. My love for Steve has diminished, but I still remember what was and what should have been, so here we go.

I didn't really feel like doing all of the action sequences, because I feel like the most character growth happens in those "In Between" scenes, so this takes place after the Winter Soldier was activated by Zemo and the escape from the CIA facility. It picks up just before the airport battle.

Steve, Sam and Bucky sat silently in the old Beetle, waiting for their reinforcements to show up.

Bucky eventually broke the silence. "So who's the girl?"

"Buck." Steve sighed.

"What?" Bucky asked. "Its a fair question from your old best friend." The super soldier reasoned. "This girl violates a dozen laws, steals our equipment back and you lay one on her. And judging by both of your expressions, that was the first time you two did that."

"Did I ever tell you how creepy it is that you analyze everything now?" Steve rebuttaled.

"No." Bucky plowed forward. "She must be a pretty special girl."

"You've no idea." Sam muttered under his breath.

"Sam." Steve said with a warning in his tone.

"What?" Sam fired back. "She is a special girl. You two spent the last two years dancing around each other and now is when you decide to make a move? When we're wanted criminals?" Sam huffed. "You really do have horrible timing."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, first you kiss Peggy back in the day."

"You and Peggy kissed?" Bucky interrupted.

"Yeah, just before he flew a plane into the Arctic." Sam said.

"And now you finally make a move on Sharon, just before we're going to break a whole mess of international laws?" Bucky questioned. "Sam's right, you do have bad timing."

"Oh, and we didn't even get to the part where Sharon is Peggy's niece."

"Sam!" Steve was exasperated.

Bucky, for his part, just looked from Sam to Steve and back again, unsure if this was some kind of joke or not. Thankfully, Steve was saved from any more of this awkward conversation by the arrival of a big, white, serial-killer style van.

"Oh, look, backup's here." Steve said and immediately exited the vehicle to greet the driver, who was none other than Clint Barton.

Bucky stared after his old friend before turning to look at Sam with an incredulous look.  “Her niece?”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed.  “Though, to be fair, we didn’t know that until yesterday.”  He then opened the car door and exited the vehicle.

Outside, Steve approached Clint and shook hands with his old teammate.  “Thanks for coming.”

“Cap.”

“You know I wouldn’t have called if I had any other choice.”

“Hey man, you’re doing me a favor.” Clint waved off Steve’s Steveness.  Behind him, Wanda climbed out of the passenger seat.  “Besides, I owe a debt.”

“Thanks for having my back.” Steve nodded at her.

“It was time to get off my ass.” Wanda replied. Her attention was diverted to behind Steve’s broad shoulders to where Sam was struggling to hold in his laughter, phone in hand as Bucky attempted to navigate his way out of the back seat.  This video would definitely go viral.

“What about our other recruit?”

“He’s rarin’ to go.” Clint answered, walking back to the van and slid the side open, revealing a passed out Scott Lang laying on the seat.  The moment the door was all the way open, rocking the van, Scott jolted awake.  “Had to put a little coffee in him, but...” He looked at Scott, who seemed confused as to where he was.  “... he should be good to go.”

“What time zone are we in?” Scott asked as he yawned and stretched, sliding out of the van to place his feet on solid ground.  He steps forward, ignoring the weird tingles in his legs indicating they were waking up, and immediately accepted the hand presented to him, without really realizing who it was attached to.  That is, until he realized who’s hand he was shaking and just kind of gaped at the man.  “Captain America.”  He looked both amazed and dumbfounded at the same time.

“Mr. Lang.” Steve replied, his hand still in Scott’s grip, but too polite to pull back on his own.

“It’s an honor.” Scott was still shaking Steve’s hand, and only now seemed to realize it.  “I’m shaking your hand way too long.”  Despite saying that, he continued to shake the hand in his grasp.  “Wow, this is awesome!  Captain America.”  He seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped shaking Steve’s hand, looking around him at the other people assembled in a parking garage, his eyes landing on Wanda.  “I know you, too.  You’re great. My daughter loves you.”  Wanda smiled in return as Scott turned back to Steve again, feeling up the super soldier’s epic shoulders.  “Jeez.”

Scott snapped out of his hero-worship and stepped back, hands to himself.

“Ah, look, I wanna say, I know you know a lot of super people, so... thanks for thinking of me.”  He spotted Sam over Steve’s incredibly broad shoulders.  “Hey, man!”

“What’s up, Tic Tac?”

“Uh, about what happened last time...”

“It was a nice audition, but it... it won’t happen again.” Sam said firmly.

“What happened last time?” Steve found himself asking.

“Well, you see, I, uh...” Scott started, only to be interrupted by Sam.

“It’s not important.”

Steve looked between the two, Sam staring firmly at Scott, who looked a bit sheepish.  “... okay?”  He turned back to Scott. “They tell you what we’re up against?”

“Something about... psycho-assassins?” Scott supplied, not sounding entirely sure.

“We're outside the law on this one. So, if you come with us, you're a wanted man.” Steve said, laying everything on the line from the beginning.

“Yeah, well, what else is new?” Scott said with a shrug. 

“We should get going.” Bucky supplied, finally free from the metal death-trap.

“We’ve got a chopper all lined up.” Clint said.

A voice speaking in German sounded over the loud speakers in the garage, with Bucky looking up first, “They’re evacuating the airport.”

“Stark.” Sam said with a sigh.

“Stark?” Scott questioned.

“Suit up.” Steve commanded.

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

Steve, now all suited up in his Captain America uniform, jogged across an eerily vacant tarmac toward the chopper that Clint had pointed out.  His eyes scanned back and forth, knowing that Tony and Rhodey and who knows who else was with them was lurking around here somewhere.  Less than ten meters to the chopper and some sort of electro-doohickey that he didn’t understand landed on the machine, frying the engine and rendering it useless.  Steve skidded to a stop and watched as Tony and Rhodey, Iron Man and War Machine descended from the sky.

“Wow, it's so weird how you run into people at the airport. Don't you think that's weird?” Tony joked, always with the quips, even in a serious situation, because he obviously didn’t know how to read the room... so to speak.

“Definitely weird.” Rhodey agreed, always following Tony’s lead.

“Hear me out, Tony.” Steve interjected, trying to talk sense into his former teammates.  “That doctor, the psychiatrist, he's behind all of this.”

To his left, T’Challa jumped over a parked truck and landed in a crouch before standing up to his full height in his black vibranium suit. “Captain.”

“Your highness.”

“Anyway, Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in. That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?” Tony announced, retracting the helmet of his suit so he could talk to Steve face to face.

“We’re not brothers.” Steve countered.  “We’re not even friends.”

“Hmm.” Tony huffed.

“You’re after the wrong guy.” Steve tried to reason with him.

“Your judgment is askew. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday.”

“And there are five more super soldiers just like him.” Steve tried to explain.  “If you would just shut up and listen to me, I could explain.”  Tony’s face darkened.  “I can't let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can't.”

“Steve... you know what’s about to happen.” Rhodey said, retracting his own helmet.  “Do you really want to try and punch your way out of this one?”

“Wait.” Natasha walked up, dolled out in her own tactical gear.  “What do you mean there are five more?”

“Alright, I’ve run out of patience.” Tony said.  “Underoos!”  Steve was obviously confused for a moment, until he saw a shadow flip over him.  His shield was wrenched from his hands, which were suddenly tied together with some kind of material he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what it was.  Looking up, he saw a man in a red and blue costume with a web-like pattern, his shield in this person’s hand.  “Nice job, kid.”

“ Thanks. Well, I could've stuck the landing a little better. It's just the new suit… Well, it's nothing, Mr. Stark. It's--it's perfect. Thank you.” Steve’s eyes narrowed the more he listened to this man - this boy - talk.  On Tony’s side, Natasha’s expression was similar.

“Yeah, we don't really need to start a conversation.”

“ Okay. Cap . . . Captain. Big fan, I'm Spider-Man.” He saluted Steve.

“Yeah, we'll talk about it later. Just...”

“Hey, everyone.” Spider-Man waved at the assembled heroes.

“... Good job.” Tony finished.

“You’ve been busy.” Steve said icily, his glare directed solely at Tony.

“And you've been a complete idiot.” Tony fired back.  “Dragging in Clint. 'Rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place.” Steve snorted at that.  “I'm trying to keep . . . I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

“You did that when you signed.” Cap retorted.  “And when you dragged in this kid.” He nodded toward Spider-Man.  “How old are you?”

“That’s not important - “ Tony started to say.

“No, that is a good question.” Natasha interrupted.  “How old are you?” She directed her question at Spider-Man.

“I... uh...” Peter wasn’t sure what to do.  The scary redhead was on Tony’s side, but Tony wanted him to stay a secret.

“If he’s over sixteen, you can keep my shield.” Steve interjected.  Now everyone was looking at Tony, with mixed expressions of shock and even outright anger.

“Alright, We're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us. NOW!” Tony was shouting by the end of the sentence. “Because it's us! Or a squad of J-SOC guys... with no compunction about being impolite.”  Steve looks aside, as if he’s deep in thought.  “Come on, man.”

Meanwhile, in Steve’s comms, Sam was talking to him.

“We found the Quinjet.  Hanger five, north runway.”  Steve nodded before holding up his hands, almost looking like he was surrendering.  An arrow pierced the material that bound his hands, freeing them.

“Okay, Lang.” Steve said into his comms.

“Hey, guys, something’s happening.” Spider-Man said, usure of what was going on but sensing something.  He spotted a really tiny man on Captain America’s shield, who quickly turned normal sized and knocked Spider-Man away, before flipping off the truck and handing the shied back to Steve with an exaggerated “I believe this is yours, Captain America.”

Rhodey’s and Tony’s helmets went back up.

“There’s two in the parking deck.” Tony said, using his suit’s enhanced features to spot them.  “One of them’s Maximoff.  I’m gonna grab her.”  Tony started to take off.  “Rhodey, you wanna deal with Cap?”

“Got two in the terminal.” Rhodey said as he also started to rise into the air.  “Wilson and Barnes.”

“Barnes is mine!” T’Challa snarled, immediately racing off in that direction.

“Mr. Stark, what should I do?” Spider-Man asked, sounding more and more like a frightened teenager.

“What we discussed.” Tony snapped over his comms.  “Keep your distance and web ‘em up.”

“Okay, copy that.” Spider-Man leapt off of the ground and produced another of those spider web lines and swung toward the terminal.

The fight was on.

[ravenforce]

Stark Legacy 1

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers x Wanda Maximoff x Maria Hill x Reader

Word Count: 3877

A/N: It has arrived. The Imagine I teased you all about a month ago. Thus the unholy pentagon arrives. I tried writing a summary but I think I suck at writing them, and I didn’t wanna spoil the plot by talking too much. I hope you like this. Comment your reactions, bloody or otherwise. Also, I proofread this twice but if there are still some mistakes that escaped me, forgive me. xx

Parts: 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

***

Interrupted

“Funny how tragedy brings people together,” Maria thought as she stands on the balcony watching not the city below her but the sight of her girlfriends Natasha and Carol goofing around the kitchen while Wanda helplessly continues to try to make dinner. Who would have thought that after being dusted she’d end up being asked out by the most powerful Avengers? Okay, it was Natasha who asked her out with Carol’s permission to do so.

“Are you high Natasha?” Maria asked after Natasha gathered all the courage she could get to ask S.H.I.E.L.D’s Deputy Director out for dinner. 

Carol was watching the interaction, saw how fast Nat tries to build her walls up. So, she flew to her ex-assassin girlfriend before she can bolt in humiliation.

“No, no, she’s not high. As you know, the Black Widow doesn’t joke either. She’s serious,” Carol paused. “We, we’re serious about this. We want you to be our girlfriend but if that’s too fast for you, we can just hang out. We’d still love to have you around.”

Maria cocked her perfectly sculpted eyebrow while Carol vomits her words. She thought it was adorable that the two strongest people she knows was nervous about asking her, a mere mortal, out. 

“Why me? Why now?” Maria asked the burning questions in her head. She may be Fury’s best soldier but she’s not just about to do something because people told her so. 

“Well,” Carol started before nudging Nat with her elbow. Natasha looked up at Maria. 

“Well, life is short, Hill,” Natasha said. Carol rolled her eyes. 

“That’s very romantic, Agent Romanoff,” Maria deadpanned. Carol chuckled. 

“What Natasha meant was life is short, and she’s had a fat crush on you since she met you forever ago but,” Carol paused to think her words over. 

“But the world kept needing heroes,” Natasha finished her girlfriend’s sentence. “And I kept waiting for the right time.” 

There was never a right time went unsaid but duly understood. She’ll be damned if she says she never thought about kissing the redhead senseless before, especially every time Natasha goes on her way to save the boys, even if meant endangering herself. Maria looked at the two women before her, as they wait with bated breath. 

“Fine,” Maria said after what seems like an eternity. Carol started grinning instantly, Nat tried to bite the inside of her cheeks to hide her excitement but the blush on her neck and cheeks said otherwise. “Let me know when and where.”

Six months after, Wanda came back into the compound. Wanda joining them was gradual, as they’re all respectful of her grieving process. It took months before Wanda herself opened up about joining their little family. 

“Aren’t you guys going to ask me to be your girlfriend?” she asked, direct to the point. No dilly-dallying, while they’re all cuddled up in the couch watching the end credits of Netflix’s Altered Carbon. Carol was lying on her side big-spooning the deadly Natasha Romanoff. While Maria was sitting in the middle with Wanda’s foot cradled on top of her thighs. 

Carol and Nat nearly fell on the floor in their haste to look at the young witch. Wanda watched as they gather their thoughts, Maria laughed at how surprised the two were.

“We are planning on it,” Maria says as she massages Wanda’s soft feet. “We just didn’t know if you’re actually open to it.”

Wanda wanted to sass but Maria’s hand on her feet is doing magic to her, rendering her soft and non-combatant. She still rolled her eyes playfully though. “Now that we’re on the topic. Ask me now,” Wanda says cheekily. 

Natasha sat on the floor beside Carol. “Be our girlfriend,” she says confidently. “Officially.”

Wanda smiled before she beckoned the redhead forward so they can seal the deal with a kiss.  

***

“Deputy Director Hill! Maria! Bubba!!” Wanda yelled to get Maria’s attention.

“Sorry, I was elsewhere,” Maria apologized for spacing out. “What do you need?”

“I need you to remove these children out of the kitchen,” Wanda teased Nat and Carol.

Maria took one huge sip of her red wine before walking inside their shared apartment and towards her favourite witch.

“You know you can put these two in their place with a flick of your wrist,” Maria teased.

“It’s more fun to watch when you’re the one punishing them,” Wanda answered smiling, igniting a laugh from Nat and Carol as well.

“That sounds dirty,” Carol whispered before throwing a mushroom at Nat’s head again. Wanda sighed as she gets the pans out from the bottom cupboard. Nat glared at her blonde girlfriend before reaching for the broccoli to retaliate but Maria caught her hand on the counter.

“Enough,” Maria said sternly. Nat pouted while Carol stuck her tongue at the redhead.

Maria turned towards the blonde. “You too,” she said, effectively cutting the shenanigans.

Wanda walked past Maria and gave her a kiss on the cheeks before setting the pan on the stove. “See, the children only follow you,” she said before tossing the ingredients of her beef with broccoli on the pan.

“Uhm, we’re actually older than you two,” Carol blurted out.

“Speak for yourself, fossil,” Natasha teased. Yes, Natasha Romanoff, the deadly Black Widow actually knows how to tell a joke. Don’t get it wrong though, Natasha’s only soft and relaxes when she’s home. Out there, she’s still as deadly as she used to be.

Wanda laughed melodiously, causing Maria to smile a little wilder. They all lost people after the war - Tony, Clint, Steve to name a few but nothing compares to Wanda having to kill Vision to save the goddamn world. Maria’s really happy that a year after, Wanda’s coping, and smiling again. Their little family may be unconventional and incomprehensible to others but their relationship saved the four of them from spiralling into the abyss of pain and loss.

***

“Hill,” Nat called out for her, cutting through her obvious daydreaming. She blinked twice at the redhead.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked still slightly dazed.

“Are you okay? It’s the second time in the hour that you’ve spaced out,” Nat asked clearly worried.

Maria only smiled as an answer before her phone started ringing again. She pulled out the device from her back pocket. It’s Fury. She accepted the call.

“Nick,” she answered simply. She pursed her lips together while listening to intently on the other line. After receiving the directive, she unconsciously glanced at her girlfriends as they make the dining table.

“Okay. I got it. I’ll be there in 30,” she said before hanging up the phone.

Nat, Carol, and Wanda stood straight looking at her. Maria smiled, knowing her girlfriends are ready to move out on her command.

“Sorry, you’ll have to sit this one out,” Maria said causing the three to frown instantly. They don’t like the idea of Maria going without one of them since they started going out.

“Take at least one of us,” Nat suggested. Maria walked towards the redhead and forced her to uncross her arms, so she could settle in and give Nat a hug. Nat instantly melted but the frown didn’t leave her face as well as her worry.

“I can’t. Nick didn’t say it’s ‘take one of your hot girlfriends to work day’,” Maria murmured cheekily against Nat’s chest. Nat rolled her eyes playfully but Maria could hear the rumble on her chest as she starts laughing. Carol and Wanda watched the two fondly.

“Be serious,” Nat sassed, pretending to be annoyed.

“I am! Besides, Wanda worked so hard to get this dinner ready. Especially harder since you and Carol can’t stop being a goof,” Maria teased. Carol stuck her tongue out at Natasha, causing the redhead to roll her eyes.

“Fine but you’re wearing your tracker,” Nat said seriously. Carol bounded to them like an excited child with Maria’s necklace tracker on her hand. It’s one of the two pairs, they asked Pepper to have made at Stark Industries. It’s in the design of Tony’s arc reactor.

“Thank you,” Maria said after Carol secured it around her neck and gave her a soft kiss on the shoulder.

“Just activate the emergency beacon,” Wanda said softly as she sidled up with the group.

“And we will come for you,” Nat finished the sentence for Wanda. “Come hell or high water, we will come for you.”

Maria’s heart soared. She was doing fine on her own before, she didn’t know it could get better.

“Saps,” she teased softly before adding. “I’ll be okay. I’ll have Bruce, Bucky, and Happy with me.”

Natasha laughed. “Yeah, like that’s gonna compare to us,” she said confidently, and all Maria could do was laugh before begrudgingly walking away from her home. She knew if she stays for another minute to banter, she wouldn’t be able to go at all.

***

Classified

“Nick, it’s been 5 days since we’ve heard from Maria,” Carol said after slamming her hands on the Director’s table.

Nat nearly bristled as she leans on a wall across the room, watching Nick unfazed by Carol’s attempt to intimidate him. Wanda’s pacing back and forth beside Carol.

Nick looked up at Natasha. “Do I need to remind you that Hill is my deputy? If you can’t trust my decision to send her without the three of you. At least trust that she can protect herself well,” Nick said calmly.

Carol opened her mouth to respond but she heard Nat pull away from the wall. “Sorry to bother you then, Director,” Nat said simply, a deep frown adorning her beautiful face.

Carol and Wanda wanted to protest but the look on Nat’s face told them otherwise. The two followed Nat silently all the way back to the compound. When they reached their shared bedroom, Nat went directly to boot her personal laptop.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asked, sitting in front of the assassin. Carol plopping down next to the redhead on the bed.

“Nick’s not gonna give her location. So, I’m just going to find her,” Nat answered just in time as the tracking program opened. Wanda and Carol nodded.

“Okay, we’ll prepare our bags,” Wanda said before hopping out of the bed. Nat glanced at Carol who was staring at her.

“What?”

Carol beamed. “Nothing, I just love you so much,” she said before leaning in and pecking Nat’s soft plump lips.

Nat smiled when Carol was safely out of sight. Who would have thought that being home and being loved by these amazing women is what her future held for her? A silver lining from everything and everyone they lost in the war, Nat would like to think so.

“I got a location,” she yelled before sending the coordinates to her phone.

When she walked out of the bedroom, Carol and Wanda are all geared-up and packed. Carol opted not to wear her Captain Marvel uniform as to not attract too much attention. She just wore one of Natasha’s old Black Widow uniform.

“What?” Now it’s Carol’s turn to ask.

“Nothing,” Nat answered while Wanda and Carol file out of their room.

“If we’re not in a mission to find Maria, you won’t ever leave the bedroom,” Nat murmured under her breath as she follows her girlfriends out of the door.

“I heard that,” Carol sing-song after throwing her backpack at the trunk of Nat’s Rubicon.

“I’d help you tie her in the bed some other time,” Wanda whispered after Natasha got on behind the wheel.

“I heard that too,” Carol laughed as she enters the passenger seat.

Nat just rolled her eyes at her girlfriend before pulling out of the compound.

***

Nat drove like a madwoman towards the location. Thankfully, it was a driving distance and she didn’t have to borrow the quinjet that would surely let the Director know what they’re up to. Nat was thankful to have brought her Rubicon, they’re able to drive through rough terrain and all the way to the entrance of the facility. The entrance was inconspicuous, almost hidden by the shrubs growing around the area. Wanda stood in the mouth of the cave, a look of concentration on her face while Carol gets their bags from the car. 

“She’s here,” she whispered when Nat sidled up to her. “She’s unharmed.”

Nat sighed in relief. “What is this place?” she asked quietly as she fixes the weapons on her waist. 

“It seems to be Stark facilities,” Carol answered. Before the others can question where she got the information, Carol cocked her head to the side, motioning them to the House of Stark insignia, and Stark Industries logo carved on the wall of the cave. 

Nat and Wanda held their questions. There isn’t supposed to be any more of Tony’s secret labs in operation, Pepper made sure all of them are identified and catalogued on their database. This place isn’t on the list, Nat checked. They know all the answers to their questions, lie on the other end of the cavern. So their trek begins. 

The cave was dark and eerily quiet. No hostiles along the way, which doesn’t put any of them at ease. Either there’s really no threat or all threats are waiting for them on the other side. It took almost thirty minutes of walking in the dark, with just three small flashlights before they reached the end of the line, a heavy metal door. Knowing Tony, the door is supposed to be automated by F.R.I.D.A.Y but no AI greeted them. 

Carol’s hands started to glow. “Should I blast it open?” she asked with a small smile on her face.

Before anyone can say something though, the door slid open revealing Happy. 

“What the duck!” he exclaimed in his surprise.

Wanda gaped but got over her surprise first. She quickly jumped into Happy’s arms. “Happy!” 

“What are you three doing here?”

Nat noted the shift in Happy’s tone. He was confused at first but then he’s nervous. He’s hiding something but then again, Nat was pretty sure Maria told them this mission is classified but they’re already there. There’s no turning back now. 

“You’ve been gone for five days. We’re worried,” Nat answered simply. 

“Where’s Maria?” Carol asked while walking around what seems to be a disinfection area. Happy nearly shoved Wanda on his haste to stand in front of Captain Marvel when she reached the main door to the facility. His smile wavered, while Carol just cocked her eyebrow at him. 

“You can’t go there,” Happy said, voice shaking. “Bad egg smell, seriously. It’s deadly.”

Nat narrowed her eyes at the poor man before side-stepping him and entering the other room. Carol and Wanda quickly following their redhead girlfriend inside. Happy couldn’t do much more than just heave a sigh before following everyone.

***

When they entered the room, no one paid them any attention thinking that it’s just Happy coming back inside. Nat, Wanda, and Carol noticed Bruce first, standing behind multiple computer screens and clearly absorbed on his work. Then they noticed Maria standing over what seems to be a medical table, tablet on her hand with some Stark Industries personnel and Stark Industries machinery working on something. They couldn’t really see from their vantage point, so they walked a little further inside to see better. 

“What the?” Wanda whispered loud enough to get everyone’s attention.

Carol bumped into a metal counter, causing everything on it to shake. Nat couldn’t do much more than stare. Maria turned around, mirroring the surprise on her girlfriends’ faces. 

“Happy?” Maria asked, still not quite processing that her girlfriends’ are all there. 

Happy scratched the back of his neck. “I bumped into them on the way to out,” he explained a little sheepish.

Maria pinched the bridge of her nose to prevent an incoming headache. She sighed before turning back to the lab people and ordering them to keep going. She walked towards Wanda and Carol first before giving both of them a quick kiss on their cheeks. Then she stood in front of Natasha. “I’m sorry I made you worry, I just have my hands full here,” she explained. 

Nat couldn’t stop staring at the body on the table. “What is that?” she asked bewildered. 

“It’s a robot, isn’t it?” Carol asked as she walks closer to the table. “I saw Rocket repairing Nebula once. This one’s way too human though.”

Wanda walked closer to the table too. “Isn’t that?” Wanda started to asked but before she could continue, the machines started powering down. Happy looked at the lights to check if they’re having trouble with the power again.

“Miss Hill, repairs are complete,” a lab tech said. “She’s booting up now.”

Everyone held their breath in anticipation. A minute after, the robot’s eyes opened. She blinked a few times before putting her hand up to shield her eyes from the harsh light. Maria walked towards the table to remove the light on its face. 

“Hey,” Maria greeted tentatively.

She’s not exactly sure what’s supposed to happen next. After five days, she still hasn’t reconciled the fact that Tony left a robot with an active program unaccounted for in the facility.

“Hi,” it said before sitting up. Nat gasped when she got a good look at the robot’s face.

“Is that?” she whispered under her breath. Carol looked confused, everyone seems to know the identity of the robot, she doesn’t. She reckons it must be someone dusted at the first snap or someone who died before she got back. 

“Are you really in there?” Maria asked, confusing Nat, Carol, and Wanda. 

The robot looked down at her hands and made a show to close and open them like a child learning to use their extremities for the first time. The robot looked up at Maria. 

“I am,” you answered. “How long have I been out?”

“Dead or lying here dormant?” Happy asked from behind Maria.

The robot recognized the voice immediately. She leaned to the side to see the man himself. Everyone watched as the robot’s features lighten up with a smile.

“Haps!” the robot exclaimed before jumping with robot precision into Happy’s arms. 

Nat shivered at how eerily human this robot is. She turned slightly to look at Wanda, who looked exactly as she expected her to be facing another Stark robot creation once again. Carol seems to have caught Wanda’s reaction as well by the way she moved closer to the witch to offer her silent support. 

Happy wrapped his arms around the robot. He nearly sobbed at point of contact, no one calls him Haps, except. Tony outdid himself with how well he made the robot to imitate a human body. The skin is made of top of the line synthetic material that it’s almost human-like. 

“So, how long?” 

Happy let the robot go reluctantly. “Five years give or take when we buried your body,” he said solemnly. The robots’ eyes glazed for a second before he looked at Happy again. 

“So, what did I miss?” she asked with fake enthusiasm Nat can smell from a mile away.

“Tony’s gone,” Bruce who was silently watching the event unfold in front of him said softly.

“I know,” it said, frowning. “He left a message on my hard drive.”

A silence fell into the room. Leaving Nat, Carol, and Wanda with so many questions, and zero answers. 

“Hi, excuse me,” Carol said shyly to get everyone’s attention. The robot turned to her and smiled softly. “I’m sorry but can someone explain what’s happening here?”

“Hi, I’m sorry. We haven’t met, I’m Y/N. Y/N Stark, Tony Stark’s younger sister,” the robot introduced herself. 

You can hear a pin drop in the floor with the silence that follows. It was deafening.

“That’s not possible,” Natasha blurted out. You turned towards the redhead with a smile. It’s been ages since you’ve seen the woman, or anyone of them, after all.

“Oh, Natalie,” you said with a smirk. 

Nat shivered, remembering the first time she met you years ago while she was still Tony’s undercover secretary. She remembered how you bantered and flirted with each other relentlessly. She had to summon all her Black Widow training not to blush at the intensity of your gaze. 

“But it is,” you continued. “Wanda can prove it.”

Tag List: @subject7creed​

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

You swallowed thickly. This was exactly what the mothers feared: you losing control. And being found out by others. Would the pack kick you out now? Would they fear you? Hate you? Nothing else seemed like a better idea in that moment than to simply disappear like the smoke from the still smoldering floor.

But you were stuck there in that room, with countless pairs of eyes staring at you with emotions that ranged from curiosity to confusion to fear.

“It was just an accident,” Soomi insisted, coming to your rescue when you still couldn’t find the words. She rushed over to your side, crouching down and putting her hands on your shoulders in a protective manner.

“An accident?” Kris scowled. His eyes flickered over to the circular burn pattern around the bed. “This looks a little precise to be an accident.”

“Soomi, is this one of the powers you were talking about?” Junmyeon asked suddenly. Your eyes went wide as you whirled around to face the one person who you thought would never tell. It was against her character to go against the wishes of the coven.

Soomi looked at you with guilt. “Someone had to know, in case something like this happened,” she explained. To Junmyeon, she nodded. “But this has never happened before. Not in her sleep.”

“Wait, so (y/n) made the fire?” Jongdae exclaimed. “While sleeping?”

“That is both terrifying and impressive,” Baekhyun commented.

“Wait,” Tao looked at the others frantically, never letting his gaze settle on you, most likely out of a small amount of fear, “so what exactly can she do?”

Soomi answered for you, which made you feel relieved that you didn’t have to speak up. You were still in shock from the fire… and the vision. “(y/n) was born with the ability to manipulate the elements. It’s rare among witches and… it’s not the easiest thing to control.”

Kris looked over at Junmyeon. “Don’t you think that you should have shared that with the rest of us, especially since she’s staying in our house? With Mei?”

“She would never hurt any of us,” Junmyeon defended. You were thankful that at least one of the alphas was on your side. Even if you actually tried, you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to support yourself properly.

“I wouldn’t exactly call her powers ‘under control’,” Kris spat back.

Soomi shook her head, her protective grip on your shoulders tightening. “They’ve never surged like this before. A splash of water here and there and-”

“Splash of water?” Baekhyun’s eyes grew wide along with a mischievous smile. “Was that you at the restaurant?”

“The restaurant?” Soomi looked to you. “What happened at the restaurant?”

Everyone was staring, waiting for answers. Some you had, some you didn’t. The pressure and the tension brought you back to when you were just a child, brought before the mothers of the coven, the first time your powers manifested.

Fire. It was always fire. The first time had terrified you. It wasn’t obvious – in your eyes, at least – that it had been you to cause the candle flames to surge and grow until Mother Cypress’ ceiling caught fire as well. It was put out before any true damage could be done, thankfully, but it didn’t end there. The other kids had pointed to you as the culprit. You didn’t understand. All you had done was cry and yell. Ronin had stolen your favorite stuffed animal and refused to tell you where he’d hidden it. Next thing you knew everyone was running and screaming because of the candles. Not too long after, the mothers had figured out just how different you were.

And here you were again, surrounded by accusatory stares mixed in with fear of the unknown. What else could you do besides jump to your feet and run out the door? In your mind, there was no other option. And no one stopped you. Several of the wolves even jumped out of the way, perhaps scared that you’d set them aflame if they didn’t.

Outside, the unexpected chilly air stabbed at the exposed skin of your arms and legs. Almost immediately, your teeth started to chatter. It seemed the weather was finally saying goodbye to the last bit of summer and fully transitioning into fall. Which went the blood moon was getting closer as well. Even with the heavy cover of clouds in the sky, you could still see the faded orange of the sun rising. It was morning already.

Too cold to go any further, you sat down in the dewy grass, the water adding to your icy state. But you didn’t move. Part of you hoped that maybe you would simply freeze over in that spot, a permanent statue that no longer had to deal with the cards life had handed you on the day of your birth. Burying your face in your knees, you willed the water around you to come over you and solidify in an attempt to become that statue. As per usual, your so-called “power” ignored what you wanted. They only seemed to want to cause chaos instead of obeying your orders.

Was that their true purpose? Were they really meant for chaos? The mothers had tried to keep you on the road of light magic, of good, but what if you simply weren’t made for it? What if your destiny was to take the other path and all this effort was simply prolonging the inevitable? Could that be what the visions had been trying to tell you all along?

Something warm suddenly fell onto your shoulders, causing you to flinch. In a glance you saw an oversized jacket now covered you as protection from the cold. The owner of the clothing item stood in front of you, his hand out as if waiting for you to take it.

“Come on,” Sehun said softly.

You pulled your arms in tighter to your chest in defiance. “I’m not going back inside.”

“I’m not taking you back inside,” he countered. The fact that he continued to be unfazed by your snappy attitude was not lost on you. But he already knew, didn’t he? He already knew about your powers. Even so, you were a bit amazed that he wasn’t keeping his distance after witnessing the extent of what you were capable of.  “Just trust me.”

Somehow, those three little words did it. Without even hesitating, you took his still outstretched hand and let him pull you up to your feet. In that motion, however, the jacket slide off your shoulders, exposing you to the cold once again. Before it could fall to the ground and become covered in water, rendering it useless, Sehun snatched it from the air.

“Here.” He adjusted the jacket in his hands and then slide one of your arms into the sleeves like a child. But you didn’t fight him or slide in some comment about being able to do it yourself. You let him wrap you up in the warmth that smelled like him, even biting back a smile as he zipped it up nearly to your chin. Satisfied with his work, he grabbed your hand and said, “Let’s go.”

It was a slow walk towards the woods west of the farmhouse. You’d never gone this way before so your mind was reeling with the possibilities of your destination. Though he wasn’t speeding ahead, Sehun seemed to be walking with purpose, giving you somewhat of a hint that this wasn’t an aimless stroll.

After ten minutes or so, the trees began to thin again, revealing a second, man-made clearing. Three different structures were in varying stages of construction on the property. The largest one resembled the bare bones of a house, only the wooden beams that would hold up the walls to dictate where the rooms were going to be were built.

“This is our second home,” Sehun explained. “The farmhouse is getting too crowded, so Junmyeon started this a month ago or so. The space might be nice, but I like having all of us together.” The sadness in his voice was evident and you squeezed his fingers in an effort to comfort him. This whole time he’d kept a protective grip on your hand and still, he didn’t let go. You didn’t want him to, either. The warmth passing back and forth through your palms was the only thing keeping you upright, stopping you from crumbling away.

Over and over, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t fall in the same trap that Soomi did. You wouldn’t fall for a wolf that clearly wasn’t yours.

But you wanted him to be.

You wanted to lean your forehead against his shoulder, eyes closed, and take him in. Everything about him calmed you down and sped you up at the same time. Your heart was racing, but your mind was at ease. Could he feel how hard the blood was pumping through your veins? Did he feel the same way?

The sudden panic of getting too close surged up in your stomach. You tried to step away, put space again between the two of you and free your fingers from their wanted cage, but he didn’t let you. He wasn’t holding them hostage in a grip that would turn the tips of your fingers white, but he did hold firm, conveying his wish to keep you beside him without uttering a word.

Still remaining silent, Sehun tugged you along to get closer to the construction site. He ignored the yellow caution tape to bring you almost to the center of the house. If you let your imagination run, you could almost picture the painted walls, the kitchen, the living room, all of it really, with you in the middle of it. It almost made you laugh; how could this empty, shell of a building feel like… home?

“I’ve been coming here a lot lately,” Sehun randomly confessed as he let you go. He took a few steps until he came to a foundation beam, holding onto it with one hand and leaning back. His gaze was up at the sky as if he were searching for words to say or an answer to a dilemma that had been haunting him. “Just for some quiet or think things through, it doesn’t matter. No one else comes here. They don’t care since it’s not finished. I almost don’t want them to finish it. I don’t know where I’d go after that.”

You were a little put out by his tangent since you thought him bringing you here was about making you feel better, but on the other hand… it was doing a decent job of getting your mind away from that dark place. Was that his real intention? Helping by pretending to not be helping?

Shrugging away the lack of answer to your riddle, you stepped up to the same pole Sehun was pulling on and leaned up against it with the corner pushing into your shoulder. You stared up at the orange-haired wolf until he tore his eyes away from the sky to meet your own.

“The forest is big,” you told him. “I’m sure you’ll find another hiding spot.”

Sehun inhaled deeply through his nose, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it out slowly through his lips. “Maybe I should stop hiding.”

There it was again. That electricity in the air that charged up every time he started to lean in. His eyes flickered back and forth from your gaze to your lips in debate. The difference this time around was the fact that it didn’t feel teasing or restrained. It was charged, serious.

“What are you hiding from?” you asked in a voice so soft it couldn’t even be deemed a whisper. It was merely breath leaving your lungs and yet the words were understood.

But Sehun ignored your question, leaning in at an agonizingly sluggish pace. You felt your own calves raise you up to shorten the time it would take for him to reach you. Then you felt the first drop land on your cheek. Looking up at sky, you found the clouds had thickened once again and were releasing the water that was now too heavy to continue carrying.

Drip… drip… drip… drip, drip, drip.

Faster and faster it came down, no roof up above to save you from the pouring rain. Sehun cursed under his breath and grabbed your hand, making a run for the trees that hardly created an adequate cover as the two of you hurried back to the farmhouse. By the time the two of you stumbled into the kitchen through the back door, you were soaked.

“(y/n), oh, my god!” Soomi rushed up to you, cupping your face in her hands as she inspected your current state.

Junmyeon sighed in relief. “Thanks for finding her, Sehun.”

You raised an eyebrow at the wolf after he didn’t correct the alpha’s phrasing. He hadn’t found you, he was the reason you were out in the rain in first place. Now he was practically on the other side of the kitchen. As soon as you were inside, he’d let go of your hand, making you feel colder than ever. You were hurt by how quickly he’d flipped the switch, how easy it was for him to create distance after coming in so close.

“Let’s get you changed out of those clothes,” Soomi said, pulling you out of the feelings that were currently drowning you. She led you towards the stairs, not slowing down even as you kept looking over your shoulder back at Sehun, who was whispering some story to his alpha that you couldn’t interpret.

Instead of going towards the bedroom, however, Soomi steered you towards the bathroom once arriving on the second floor. She started the shower and let the water warm up as she helped you strip out of the ruined clothes. You stared silently at the black jacket that had gotten the worst of it. Pools of rain water formed on the tiles where it lied. If only you could melt away like the water.  

“Go on and get in,” Soomi ordered. “I’ll put some clean clothes on the counter for you and then… well, then come downstairs. We all need to talk.”

Fantastic.

Alone in that shower, you contemplated the consequences of never getting out again. Your skin would wrinkle and shrivel, maybe even dry out from the heat of the water. Eventually the hot water would run out and nothing but cold water would be spitting out of the old showerhead.  Soomi would get worried and barge her way back in, pulling you out if need be. Or worse… she’d enlist the help of the other mates or even a wolf.

Now that hiding in the shower was ruled out as an option, you decided to stop being a coward and face the trial that would be waiting for you downstairs. You knew you would have to tell them about the dream – the very realistic dream you were sure was much more than a manifestation of your REM-induced brain. You were still drying your hair with a towel when you came down the steps. Everyone was in the kitchen, as to be expected. Sehun had also changed into dry clothes and was seemingly avoiding any chance to even peek in your direction.

“I swear, I think we’ve had more family meetings in the past year than we have since the pack formed,” Baekhyun grumbled. You shrank back in your spot, knowing a lot of them were most likely because of you. Was there any way you could make it back up the steps without being noticed? No, probably not.

“It’s important that we all know what’s going on,” Yixing reminded him.

“I’m kind of curious about the fire,” Minseok asked very pointedly.

“(y/n)?”

You didn’t want to look at the kind alpha, but you could feel everyone waiting for your response, so you lifted your chin, barely glancing at him. “Yeah?”

“Do you know what- what caused your powers to… surge like that?”

You swallowed thickly. The words came out in a scared, squeaky voice that you hardly recognized as your own. “I, um, I had another… vision.”

“A vision?” Soomi gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There wasn’t exactly a good second to do so,” you pointed out.

“What was the vision?” Kris questioned.

“I was in that clearing again.” Him, you absolutely refused to look in the eye. By the time you were through here your cuticles were going to be nonexistent thanks to that nervous habit. “The woman was there, too, but she was behind me. I still didn’t see her face.”

Junmyeon waited a moment for you continue. When you didn’t, he asked. “What were you doing?”

“She was… urging me to use my power,” you whispered. “Fire, to be exact. Using it in the vision must have triggered something to make it happen in real life.”

“What were you doing with the woman?” Jongin’s question was meant innocently, from what you could tell by his tone, but it set off a domino effect of panic.

“What were you doing there?” Baekhyun emphasized in an accusatory voice.

“It sounded like you were on her side,” Jongdae added. While the accusation stung, you didn’t blame him for thinking down that way.  

Chanyeol pouted like a kicked puppy at you. “You wouldn’t join her, would you?”

“I bet they’ve been working together this whole time.”

“If that were true, why would she tells us about this?”

“To make herself look innocent after setting the house on fire.”

“That’s a solid plan.”

“She can’t stay here. What if she loses control again?”

“Or sets the house on fire on purpose?” 

Louder and louder the voices grew, intersecting and overlapping until you could no longer tell what argument was coming from which wolf. A small select few still seemed to believe in your innocence, but most were deeming you untrustworthy.

“ENOUGH!”

You flinched at Junmyeon’s outburst. You’d seen him frustrated and agitated, but you’d never seen him lose his temper in this fashion. His jaw was set, teeth grinding against each other while his glare roamed over his pack.

“The fact that any of you would think for a second that (y/n) was plotting against us….” He shook his head. “I’m disappointed in all of you.”

“But they had good points, Junmyeon,” Kris argued. “And we must always put the pack first.”

Junmyeon scoffed. “So, what do you want to do? Throw them out?”

Kris shrugged. “It really might be best if they don’t stay here anymore. We can’t be completely sure that this won’t happen again. And next time, it could be worse.”

“But what about the woman? (y/n)’s visions?”

“They’re not constant. If she has one, then they can come over and describe it to us,” Yixing said. Guilt was apparent when he looked at you, but he quickly ended the contact, squeezing Ming’s hand protectively.

Junmyeon opened his mouth to argue, but eventually closed it again. His shoulders slumped, admitting defeat.

“You can’t just kick them out!” Sehun shouted.

“I don’t have a choice, Sehun.” The alpha was breaking. His voice wasn’t as strong as it had been a few seconds ago. He was going back on his promise to Mother Willow to protect you and Soomi and it was killing him to do so. You didn’t understand how any of them could be okay with seeing their leader this way. “I have to put the pack first. Always.”

A roar ripped through the air that made everyone jump.

“She is part of the pack!”

Sehun marched over to you, taking ahold of your wrist and pulling you into his side. With an expression that was scaring even you, he made a declaration that you wouldn’t have been prepared for in a thousand years.

“She’s my mate.”

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 9 - "stay"

Season 9, episodes 23/24 "Angels" and "Demons" (the ones where Reid gets shot in the neck *cries*, while the team are chasing a guy - a preacher, to be precise - who was framed by the unsub. In the episode they will eventually find the real unsub)

Long ass one. Idk what nerve drives me to call these fics "shots" when most of em are +4000 words. Note: Reid always has long hair in my fics, regardless of the season I took inspiration from

As per usual: edited this months after I first wrote it. My fics are perennial works in progress

Read it on AO3

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

"Blake!! " Morgan screamed with all his voice, running toward her and Reid as fast as he could - considering he got shot - pressing a hand on his wounded bicep.

One of his ears was beeping because of the gun shots - 3 out of 4 bullets hit his vest - and he was feeling light-headed from the fall. Not to mention the pain his arm was causing him. But in that moment, it was like his body had forgotten about the soreness and discomfort because his mind was only focused on Reid- no, Spencer. His Spencer.

"Blake-" he called her again, now that he'd got just a few feet from them.

He quickly fell down to his knees and put his hand on Spencer's neck, replacing Alex's. She moved aside without protesting, still sitting on the ground.

"I- I'm- I'm so sorry." she hiccuped on the verge of crying, shaking her head to dizziness while she looked down at her bloody hand; not sure if she was apologizing to Spencer or to Derek.

Morgan didn't answer, but not because he thought it was her fault: how could he? They all would take a bullet - and had taken bullets - to save each other. There was simply no time for apologies in that moment.

"We need an ambulance!" she repeated to her radio transceiver, even though at least 10 minutes had passed since she had first called for help.

"Alright- kid, you gotta stay with me now" Derek ordered, breathing heavily.

Despite the other's pleads, Spencer had almost completely lost consciousness; his mouth hung open, his eyes suddenly rolled back.

"No, nonono no" Derek panted loudly. "Baby please don't-"

His pupils desperately roamed his peripherals, searching for something with which he could pat Spencer's wound to minimize the blood loss, since clearly his hand wasn't enough.

"W-what do you need?" Alex asked, seeing Derek looking around aimlessly; but he seemed too spaced out to answer. "Talk to me Morgan, how can I help?!"

"I-I need something to pat the wound, I don't know some kind of cloth-" he said, panic possessing him.

The only thing Alex could think of, without having to go too far and waste anymore time, was Spencer's tie. She messily reached over, managing to snatch it from underneath his vest - though not without struggling - and untying it. She then slid it out of the collar of Spencer's button-up and folded it, having the hardest time accomplishing even such simple tasks with how bad her hands were shaking. She handed it to Morgan who, without complaining or questioning, placed it on the wound and started pressing again.

Spencer was slowly slipping on the ground from his half-sitting position, with his back leaning on one of the SUVs. Derek wrapped his free, not injured arm around him from under his armpit as securely as he could, and tried to lift him up a little, to help him breathe. He did his best, straining against his own pain and the pressure he had to keep applying on the other man's wound.

Luckily, that was enough to bring him back. Spencer swallowed intensely and gasped, before starting to mumble incomprehensibly. Derek kept both his hands firmly wrapped around his neck, to try and keep his head from hanging on either side.

"Ok this is good, keep your eyes on m- hey, eyes on me" he kept saying, trying to keep him awake; once, twice, dozens of times again and again and again like a mantra; only rearranging the words slightly each time; calling his name - Spencer, kid, baby, stay with me, don't, please, I need you here, come on-

Wait. Stop. Spencer looked like he was trying to say something.

"What? What is it, kid? Talk to me, say whatever- just whatever stay awake for me please" Derek begged him, his voice starting to get too shaky to handle. The ambulance hadn't arrived yet but, even though he had lost a lot of blood, Reid managed to stay somewhat conscious, which must have been a good sign: Morgan thought, trying not to let his mind go to dark places.

"I-" Spencer started to say something, then coughed.

He coughed blood. Everything Derek had been thinking to try and keep his hopes high went to nothing.

Derek started to feel sick. Sick like all the organs in his body were stuck in a million tight knots; and his lungs seemed slowly filling up with cement; and his eyes felt as if an uncountable number of needles were piercing through them; and his limbs were being crushed into ash by a hammer. 

"Oh God..." Alex whispered; her brain was like electrocuted and rendered unable to come up with anything more to keep Reid awake than she'd already come up with earlier, while Morgan was still chasing the preacher before coming to help.

Spencer reached for Derek's arm with his weak hand.

"I- I love you-" he finally managed to murmur with a hint of a lopsided smile, as if relief had washed over him the second he'd let out those words. His eyes were open in mere slits, looking at somewhere around Derek's face with an odd glimmer that the other man couldn't quite place because he'd never seen before.

"No, don't- don't say that, c'mon yo-" Derek barely said, choking halfway. "-you can say that to me later, Spencer..." his words faded away, as he shook his head in denial and the first of many tears to come fell down his cheek. He shut his eyes close in the attempt to avoid that, pressing his forehead against Spencer's while trying not to lose the grip on his neck.

"Please stay awake, please, please, please..." he begged through gritted teeth, once his sobs had somehow managed to slightly quiet down.

-

Suddenly, from far away, the sirens of an ambulance could be perceived amongst a million other noises, seeped out by the two agent's ears because they weren't the ones that mattered in that moment.

Alex quickly hopped on her feet and jogged toward the side of the street, waving and screaming like a maniac at the ambulance to make it quicker for the medics to find them.

"You hear that?? The ambulance is here kid, you gotta resist just a little more alright? Can you- can you do that for me??" Derek straightened up a little and said, well aware that he wasn't quite talking to Spencer anymore.

The other man mumbled something, not as a sign that he understood what was going on, rather that he was hearing Derek telling him things, saying words, making sounds.

He saw the figures of two medics along with Alex walking fast toward them, carrying a gurney. One of them got down and took Derek's place in soccurring Spencer; the former couldn't find a valid reason to protest when he was frantically shoved away off of him.

"Agent, are you injured?" the other one asked, gathering that the blood splattered on his bicep was most likely his own and not the other man's.

"I-I'm fine, the bullet didn't even hit me it just scratched me- I'm not the one who needs help, please! And- wait he- he doesn't take narcotics, please that's REALLY important-" Morgan yelped in response, still in shock, finding difficult to even put his words together clearly.

She only seemingly ignored his continuous whining - albeit rightful - but in actuality took in all that information, quickly examining his injury.

"I see what you mean, you got lucky. Still, it could get infected, so you're coming with us right now." she concluded in a rush, immediately turning around to help her colleague lay Spencer on the gurney.

While hurrying toward the ambulance, Derek saw Alex getting back to Hotch and Rossi. Aaron turned around, his eyes met Derek's.

He nodded at him from afar, a look on his face that said: "do what you have to do."

-

- later at the hospital

-

Derek had been sitting on that uncomfortable chair for at least 2 hours, in the waiting room of the hospital.

-

As soon as they'd got off the ambulance, they had rushed Spencer to surgery: during the drive he'd lost consciousness completely and started mumbling things that made no sense, nearing aphasia. From the second they'd taken him to the OR, Morgan hadn't been able to say anything, shell-shocked and numbed down by his brain as a defense mechanism.

Earlier, while the nurse was bandaging his arm in the Emergency Room and kept asking if he felt any pain, if he had fallen and hit his head when he'd got shot, if he was feeling dizzy; he just nodded or responded "I don't know". She'd even asked him what had happened to "his friend" at a certain point, to try and catch his attention: was she even aware that she was talking to a profiler? He couldn't even remember if he'd effectively shown her his badge.

-

It was probably more than 2 hours, he thought when he saw Hotch coming in.

Morgan looked up at him, finally shifting his eyes away from the floor. He didn't say anything, barely able to stare at him with a confused expression.

"I can't stay long." Hotch stated.

Silence.

"...what do you mean?" that was probably the first actual, sensible phrase Derek had pronounced since he'd got into that damned hospital.

Aaron sighed. "The others wanted to come, but I can't let them get distracted from the case, so I came here to check on you in person. It's the only way I got them to agree to stay at the station and keep working."

Derek finally understood what he meant; the cogs in his brain processing the situation with a concerning delay. He arched his eyebrows and rubbed his face with his palm, as if something Hotch said had awakened him all of a sudden.

"I thought you were here because the case was over" Derek snorted, shaking his head in a silent self-scolding.

"I- I don't know how I could think that..." he added, hunching on himself with his elbows dug in his sore knees.

"How long have you been waiting here?" Aaron asked after a few seconds, shooting him a concerned and squinting glance.

Derek briefly checked his wristwatch. "Since midnight, I think."

It was almost 3 am.

Hotch knew he couldn't ask him to swap and go get some air while he stayed there; he would've never accepted and it was only understandable. Plus, it wouldn't do any of them any good: he would be stuck in the hospital while the team needed him on the case. But he couldn't just leave him like that, what kind of teammate would he be?

"Alright." he sighed deeply. "I'm gonna wait here with you." he asserted, sitting down next to him and picking out the phone from his pocket, to inform the others by text.

Morgan scowled, as his head shot up. "No Hotch c'mon, it's already bad that I'm not working, you- you gotta get back, I'm gonna call you whenever I know something anyway-"

"I'm gonna stay until he's out of surgery and I know you both are ok." Hotch cut him off, without an inch of reconsideration in his voice. "Cause you're clearly not thinking straight right now." he concluded, searching deep in the other man's eyes for some sort of outraged reaction to his accusation, even being well aware that Derek had to be told by someone. And Hotch always seemed to be the one designated for that role.

Morgan faced down to stare at the blue linoleum floor again. After some seconds, he nodded silently, gulping to try and make that lump in his throat go away.

He realized that type of reaction wasn't normal for him. It almost never, ever happened to him to corner himself within his own head and turn to silent mode, in these kind of situations. He was usually the type to remain lucid - of course heating up and pacing around restlessly and punching things and cursing through clenched jaws; nonetheless lucid : interacting with the things and places and people surrounding him, letting himself feel whatever he had to feel and letting other people see it. Acting like he was acting in that moment, that just wasn't him. That could be JJ at times or...or Spencer. His Spencer.

-

After another 20 minutes of waiting in complete silence - which were nothing, compared to the 3 hours Derek had already waited - the doctor entered the crowded room. And Derek didn't even notice.

He was still sitting, eyeing blankly at the portion of floor in between his combat boots. He couldn't hear anything but his paranoid thoughts, not even the general noise and buzz of people's voices - let alone the doctor's footsteps.

Hotch instinctively stood up from the chair.

"Morgan-" he said, tapping on his shoulder.

Derek looked up at him distractedly, raising his brows. Aaron pointed at the doctor approaching them, right behind him.

He immediately got up as well and turned around; once again taking a second too many to process what was happening. He started to feel all the pressure again, heart pounding in his chest to deafness, palms oozing sweat, the knot in his larynx forming once again - for the fourth time at least that night, if one had to keep count.

"How is he?" he asked impatiently, taking for granted that he was even...alive.

"He got very lucky. The bullet didn't hit one of the major arteries just by half an inch or so." the doctor answered, calmly and reassuringly. "The excellent job you did at minimizing the blood loss on the scene was surely a determining factor." he spoke directly to Derek now, smiling widely.

Relief washed over the two agents, whose shoulders slumped and lungs released audible sighs.

"Can we see him right away?" Derek questioned further, hopeful.

"Yes, absolutely, but you have to consider that he's lost a lot of blood and stayed unconscious for quite a while. So it might take him some time to wake up from the anesthesia. Plus, he has to rest well, of course."

"Thank you." was all Derek managed to say, with watery eyes and trembling voice barely coming out of his mouth - but he really did mean it.

Aaron shook the doctor's hand, equally thankful, and quickly picked his phone out of his pocket.

"I'm calling the others right now. You go." Hotch ordered with his usual firmness and loyalty, which he maintained even in such tense situations; giving him a complicit look.

Derek simply nodded in response, infinitely grateful.

-

He opened the door of Spencer's room quietly, having acknowledged that he was still sleeping.

It was early morning; a faint, cold-hued light filtered through the blinds of the window. Derek couldn't see much, if not the outlines of some pieces of furniture and - most importantly - Spencer's shape lying on the bed. And that was more than enough for the moment being.

A gasp hitched halfway to his lungs, and his heart started beating with such intensity it could crack his sternum open, and his eyes prickled with tears of joy.

Morgan quietly grabbed the chair in the corner of the room and placed it beside the bed. He wanted to hug him so bad, but couldn't bring himself to wake him up; so he just sat there for a while, looking at him, at how the dim light enveloped his peacefully sleeping features and created weird shadows on his wrinkled hospital gown - for a second, he couldn't refrain from realizing that he looked beautiful even in that sloppy piece of clothing, with his tangled mop of hair sprawled all over the pillow.

Morgan reached out for the man's hand to lightly stroke his knuckles with the pads of his fingers. As soon as he did that, a single tear managed to part from the puddle heaped up before his pupils and trail down his cheek, falling down to sink into the cotton fabric of the blanket; not sure if that was due to the relief of being able to sense the warmth of Spencer's hand, or just because he was exhausted; or both.

Derek figured he wasn't gonna wake up any sooner if he stared at him for hours: he gave in to the impulse of resting his temple on his folded arms, over the bed, careful not to touch Spencer.

And he fell asleep.

-

- 4 hours later (7 am ca.)

-

Spencer opened his eyes. He felt wobbly, like he was caged in a glass bubble, and his neck hurt like hell, for lack of a term powerful enough.

He looked around and saw Derek, sitting beside the mattress with his head resting on the bed, sleeping. A disarmed smile played at the corners of his lips: of course he knew he would find him there, but quite frankly he didn't expect him to fall asleep like that.

He reached out to him with a hand, a little shaky from the weakness, and gently caressed his cheek, not sure if he wanted him to wake up or not. After all, he had no idea how much - or how little - sleep he managed to get; still: he needed to hear his voice and see that smile of his as much as he needed oxygen in his lungs.

Derek startled awake with a gasp, straightening up in his seat and checking his watch. It took him a while to notice that Spencer's hand was what had woken him up.

Then he saw him.

"Spencer-" he whispered and instantly stood up from the chair to sit on the bed beside him, stroking his forehead with a thumb.

Spencer suddenly realized Derek's arm was bandaged.

"W-what happened to you?" were his first words, hoarse and cracky; as he tried to prop himself up a little to half-sit on the bed.

"Nothing baby, bullet scratched me. How are YOU feeling? D'you want water or something? Jell-o?" the other asked, knowing exactly Spencer had a thing for Jell-o, not hesitating to brush off his unmotivated concern.

"No I'm fine, just...you should get back to the case, actually." Spencer said half-heartedly as reality hit him all of a sudden, making his smile fade away. He wanted him to stay, but on the other hand he knew keeping him there was only gonna slow down the team. They needed him more than he did - or at least, that's what he was trying to convince both himself AND Derek of.

"Nope. Not happening." the other dismissed, with a tone that left little to no space for protesting. He took Spencer's hand, lacing their fingers together.

His boyfriend gazed at him with puppy eyes. He should have expected that.

Derek sighed, cocking his head. "A'ight, look. They've probably already solved it by now. Best believe Hotch would've called me if it was necessary that I'd be there." he explained, reasonably. The point he was making was enough to ease down some of the guilt weighing on Spencer's chest for wishing he would stay.

"Plus," Derek continued, reaching his hand out to comb his fingers through Spencer's entangled curls. "I wouldn't be able to concentrate much right now anyway, pretty boy." he smiled at him.

Spencer giggled; the weight of his guilt now completely lifted off of his heart by Derek's smile - the brightest he'd ever seen, even being well aware of how much that whole chaos from last night must have drained him out. Only his Derek could.

"Come here" he then whispered, opening his arms, ready to melt into his hug.

Derek didn't wait another second to lean closer and wrap his strong arms around his boyfriend's skinny, temporarily fragile body; tight but not too tight, afraid to hurt him. He'd wanted to take him in his arms since the moment he opened the door and saw him, alive, 4 hours before. He released a content sigh, burying his face into Spencer's warm neck, where his nose was being slightly tickled by that soft hair - as per usual.

Spencer gently kissed Derek's temple, ignoring the fact that in doing so he would've inevitably had to tilt his neck in a hurtful way. Indeed:

"Shit-" he whispered as he pressed a hand on his bandaged neck, scrunching his muzzle in a grimace of pain but somewhat amused at the same time: he wondered if it was gonna feel like someone was twisting his throat everytime he tilted his head as little as an inch.

Derek carefully let go of the hug and placed his palm over Spencer's; his eyes revealing guilt and regret for having complied his request to hug him.

"Fuck- sorry about that, kid..."

While the other man's gaze was concentrated on his bandaged wound, Spencer's pupils fluttered around his features, displayed a few inches from his face.

"It's nothing, just kiss me." he murmured like he was in a rush, like he hadn't even thought for a second before spitting it out like that. Which was something he usually did only when he said awkward stuff - only to receive the "Reid, wtf" signature look in response.

He placed a hand behind Derek's head and pulled him closer impulsively, risking their teeth to collide.

Derek was definitely not expecting the man's warm tongue to push into his mouth like that, forcing him to part his lips way more widely than if it were just going to be the quick peck he was initially expecting it to be.

He wanted to draw Spencer even closer, but figured placing his hand on his jaw or - even worse - on his nape, would make him flinch in pain again, so he opted to wrap him back in his arms; one draped over his shoulders and the other tight around his waist.

Spencer gradually slowed down and eventually stopped, struggling to breathe evenly. He opened his eyes to stare dreamily into Derek's; still tied in each other's arms to keep their noses 3 inches apart at most.

He smiled in a sweet, silly way and laid a couple of quick kisses on both corners of Derek's mouth, making him helplessly smile too.

"I love you." Spencer murmured against the other's grinning lips. He had enough time to place on them only a couple more quick pecks, before his boyfriend managed to untangle from his limbs and pull back a little, laughing at how fucking adorable he was.

As he chuckled and put a few more inches between their faces, the memory of Spencer saying "I love you" the night before flashed back into his mind for a second. The jarring difference in how that same phrase was pronounced in those two diametrally opposed contexts made Derek feel things, not quite sure what things. Spencer most definitely couldn't remember saying it - his near unconscious state from last night overpowering his eidetic memory - though Derek recalled mumbling something among the lines of "you can say that to me later"... Anyway, he pushed those inconclusive thoughts away before they could ruin such a precious moment.

"Alright, alright, I would've gone to get you that Jell-o even without all this, you know?" he said, betraying his feigned indignation when he couldn't resist placing one last kiss on Spencer's Cupid's bow. "Or is this your apology for scaring the shit out of me and making me cry like a baby? Cause either way, it's working. You really ARE a magician, huh" he winked jokingly.

Spencer giggled and rolled his eyes. "Come on, it's not about the Jell-o!"

Derek let go of him altogether and stood up from the bed, before mocking him yet once more.

"Yeah, whatever. Imma go get that Jell-o, you stay here." as if he could actually get up and walk around the hospital, duh...

Spencer dropped his arms on the bed, as a sign of complaint. "Seriously though, I don't want Jell-o right now I- I want you ! Even if you bring it to me it's gonna stay exactly wherever you put it!" he tried to convince him not to leave the room, blushing as a result of having let "I want you" slip out like that.

Even if what Spencer said and the tone with which he said it and the face with which he said it were persuasive to say the least; Derek already had his hand on the door handle by then. He opened it and turned around toward Spencer one last time before getting out.

"I need an excuse to get out of here or Imma eat you alive, so you better thank me." he concluded with a glare and a smirk, playfully pointing a threatening finger at his boyfriend before finally closing the door behind him.

-

Spencer sighed in resignation, slowly returning to lie down on the mattress with his head on the pillow.

He stared at the ceiling and covered his eyes with his hand, smiling from ear to ear.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

To Grasp At Warmth (RK900 x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, Nines trying to grasp at human emotions whilst trying to comfort a human through hard times. LONG CHAPTER AHEAD, ALSO ON MY A03!

There wasn’t much to retain from what had happened. You had been assigned to a mission with the arrogant jackass Gavin Reed and his cold and distant android upgraded model, RK900 to go on a simple mission.

An abandoned apartment was in suspicions of holding deviant spottings and scoutings, the possibility of finding some were very high.

It had been normal, and you hadn’t thought anything different in crashing through that door, guns raised and raiding the small space.

It had been hell that had been raised as soon as you stepped into that apartment.

There was screaming, you don’t remember from who, gunshots going off in all directions, and you found yourself ducked behind an emptied cabinet, gun at the ready to take down a deviant who was in hopes of escaping.

You could recall it happening all-so-quickly: the rush of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you stood, too quick as your eyes scanned the area to shoot at the target, but you were too slow, and your body was reacting not fast enough to shoot or duck back down again.

You heard a shout of your name, a bark for you to take cover, and another sounding so demanding that you thought it couldn’t possibly be the RK900 model?

You had fired with hopes of getting the deviant, and you had been thrown back in shock: had your gun gone off accidentally too soon? You were strong enough to take the power of the small firearm, but now, you couldn’t believe you were really lying on the floor.

There was a haziness in your mind, eyes scanning frantically, Gavin swearing like usual as you tried to find your own voice - frantically trying to understand what was going on.

Had I gotten it? You were looking for blood, the familiar blue colour of the thirium that pumped in all android’s bodies to be splattered on the ground, a deviant’s body fallen, but no blue blood anywhere.

Just red, so much red.

You were crumpled on the ground, and that was when the searing pain came through your shoulder, a cry escaping your lips as your fingers were going up to hold your upper up in agony, but there was someone stopping you.

The smell of your blood in the air hit your nostrils once you were able to put two and two together, the wavering smell of it bringing your stomach to want to throw up its contents, a feeling of fatigue falling over you.

“She fucking got shot by that thing-” You could hear Gavin in the background, muttering furiously as he called in for backup, the deviants had escaped and the one you were going to shoot a shot at you before you could- that was all you could understand.

You understood the underlying factor that you had failed, you had failed your team and now you were disappointing them; letting them down just because you got injured. It was heard from Gavin’s aggravated tone, the same you had heard constantly when missions have failed. 

It was only Nines who was extremely quiet beside you, checking over your vitals and system. 

“Detective? Can you hear me?” You didn’t dare want to look up to meet the Cyberlife Android’s eyes; something about them always made you uneasy.

Like looking at an icy tundra; eyes that look so human but hold nothing for our kind.

You attempting to sit up, again, trying to touch for the wound underneath your jacket, but Nines was quickly behind you, holding you up as your head began spinning. “F-Fuck, you can still get it... if you run.”

“If we leave you, the blood you’ve lost will kill you in a matter of minutes,” Nines stated, pausing briefly as if frozen or in thought. “I sent our location for an ambulance, it will arrive in approximately 4 minutes and 29 seconds.”

There was a calmness in his voice like always, enough to keep you calm at the situation.

You didn’t speak, but you could feel yourself going in and out of consciousness, the feeling of your body wanting to sleep, but the reminders in your mind begging you not to.

Nines was one to keep reminding you not to close your eyes, telling you almost every second how close the ambulance was to reach you.

You felt the right side of your shoulder just above your armpit was on fire, a burning and numbing sensation making you feel as if you had survived to be in a fire than surviving a gunshot.

“Detective.”

“Shut up.” You croaked quietly as if caught in the middle of sleeping and was being disturbed. Part of you didn’t care anymore: you had survived this long and now, all you wanted was to not disappoint yourself or others.

“God, I have to die surrounded by idiots.”

Nines didn’t respond to your words, and your head rolled back, looking anywhere and everywhere.  Your eyes were left unfocused, staring at the walls idly. Anything to distract you.

“What the fuck is happening now?” Gavin gruffly asked, but you never heard much of Nine’s answer.

“She’s going into hemorrhagic shock-- Keep your eyes open, Detective. Detective L/N?-- Y/N?”

You had thought you had died there and then: there was a fuzziness that distorted your mind and body from making you not understand where you were. The hazy side to you settled and went away, and you were blinking back the bright ceiling lights above you.

“I’m glad to see you awake, Detective L/N.” A voice pulled you from everything, calm, masculine. Uninterested. You glanced when you thought it had been all so familiar, green eyes instead of blue, a male nurse standing beside you with a smile on their face.

You looked at their features, instantly recognising the LED flashing blue on the side of their temple. “I’ll go get the doctor.” and with that and not much to say, they left you in your hospital bed.

You groaned, instinctively going to move your right arm to wipe your eyes when you sharply grunted, a pain residing in the side of you that you didn’t notice from the drips that were in your skin.

The top half of your arm was completely wrapped up, not even a single bit of skin remaining for you to see, a cast that reached your elbow, meaning you couldn’t bend it all that well.

“Miss L/N.” You gritted your teeth, trying to remain calm as you looked to the new person walking in, thankfully a human doctor who hadn’t resembled anything of an android.

For once, you were thinking you were never going to see another normal face again. “What the hell happened?”

“You have undergone surgery. The humerus was struck by the bullet that entered your shoulder, causing it to break.”

That explained the ungodly pain you were going through right now. Your brain trying recalling everything that happened for all of this to of occurred - the deviant, getting shot, Gavin and Nines-

“Hey, I know it’ll be a lot to take in, but you’re very lucky to be alive, you lot quite a lot of blood.” The doctor smiled sympathetically to you. “I’ll go and inform your partners that you’ve awakened.”

Yes, will they be pleased to hear that I’ve made it out to the other side? You thought drearily, your head falling back onto the pillows as you could only think really of work and how you were going to recover.

Recovery, unfortunately, wasn’t something that was going to be good for you. It would take around four to five months recovery time, with most of it in a sling; rendering you from using your arm for a while and relying on things that were so simple making your life a living hell.

It meant that you were left useless and given lots of time off work, and you were just as disappointed as Fowler was when you had called into his office that same day when you had been told the news.

After a week, you were allowed out, officer Tina Chen - a friend of yours and someone who could tolerate Gavin to befriend him - had picked you up from the hospital and driven you home. 

For a couple of hours, she had stayed with you, chatting about the things you had missed whilst helping you with things you needed.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Gavin ask about you so much, he got as talkative as Nines.”

You nearly spluttered on your green tea, gritting your teeth momentarily for the pain to subside. “Nines? Nines was asking for me?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak that often and so much. God, it sounded like they missed you a lot. A lot of relief was felt when they heard you made it out from the surgery.”

There was a feeling that bubbled inside of you, to make your heart feel light in your chest; Nines asked for you, and even worse, Gavin was not being rude about you for once?

Tina took in your surprised expression. “You seem surprised by this.”

You blinked, looking away as you sipped you tea slowly. “I guess... the two of them never really speak about me so kindly, or ask for me? You know what Reed is usually like?” You shook your head in denial. “But Nines? I didn’t think there’s anything in his system to make him be programmed to be so-- to be-”

“Empathetic?” Tina finished your sentence. You nodded at the right words. “For someone who goes on about not being a deviant, you would think the tin can was growing feelings, huh?” Laughed Tina in thought.

“Y-Yeah...” It was a lot to get you thinking about everything, and in those days that grew into weeks then months, you had lots of time for doing it.

With the pain medication and timely check-ups, you were seeing no hope in actually being able to get back to work; being stuck inside your apartment all day every day was making you believe you had lost your mind by the third day.

You were certain you had re-read every book on your shelf, watched every show on Netflix and maybe even started learning another language; just so you could kill time and get better.

You groaned in silent defeat, a rumbling in your stomach telling you it was best to get something for dinner. But there was nothing to eat. By the third month, you were sure you were a stone lighter and stronger in your left arm from carrying things with one hand.

You were sure to try and brag about it to Gavin when you came back to work.

Speaking of Gavin, you hadn’t heard from him, or Nines. They hadn’t even come to check on you once, instead, Reed sent one or two messages to your during the day, sometimes he had sent photos of his cats in the evenings to keep your spirits, but you believed the two of them were busy with work.

But for Nines, you knew that this human-looking android had no part in him to understand or feel sympathy for your cause. 

He was built and programmed to be stronger, faster and better in everywhere to his previous model, and to help hunt deviants like they were infestations. He was there to not befriend humans, just use for helping them with investigations.

You knew it could never happen, but you did miss the RK900 android. And there was the knowledge that he would never want to see you outside of work.

A brief knock brought you to shake out of your thoughts, a pang of sadness and forlorn feeling fell on you that evening like most times did, as you rocked back and forth to stand and walk to the front door.

You don’t remember getting any messages about arrivals or post, nor certainly, anyone visiting at this hour, so why, when you did open that door and saw those familiar blue eyes, did you almost want to drop dead there and then?

Your good hand gripped at the doorknob tightly, to still the shakiness as you meet the androids avoidant stare. “Good evening, detective.”

“Nines, what are you doing here?” You knew that he was analysing you, from the utter mess you looked like, and yet, you were dressed in a pair of shorts, barefoot and a baggy Nirvana logo t-shirt, your hair looking like a rats nest.

There was a part of you that wanted to slam the door on his face, to go and hide in shame for your looks, for knowing he was assessing you in scrutinising way, but the other part didn’t care.

Nines stood as straight as a pin in front of your door, towering over your height, his cold blue eyes didn’t show much emotion for you, and you were having a hard time guessing what he could’ve been processing in thought.

“Detective Reed and I were discussing that you had been out of work for 3 months and 25 days, so I thought I would come over and check on you.”

“Geez, do I want to know how the hell you managed to find where I lived?” You blinked groggily, knowing full well it was late in the evening.

“Your records and information weren’t hard to find, Detective. I simply looked it up and drove to your apartment complex.” Nines spoke matter-of-factly, but you were certain there was an underlying hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“Right, would you like to come in instead of stand outside my door? Your bringing in a draft.” Nines didn’t need to be told twice, complying and stepping through to look around your small area.

It only dawned on you that this was the first time Nines was inside your place, and he was definitely going to judge you for your stuff. You left him to it, walking to your kitchen area to raid the cupboards, hearing him shuffle around from bit to bit of your apartment, looking at everything carefully that you owned.

Oh, he was going to know you know more than he was looking over every minor detail of you, but you tried to ignore him at best. Grabbing a tin of soup, you got the tin open with the hands-free tin opener.

“Your serotonin and endorphins are very low, and it seems that you have only been getting around 3-4 hours of sleep a night-”

“Lucky guess Nines, it’s because I’m feeling like shit.” You spun to look back on him, not meaning to be ticked off, but just feeling so down was making you want to take it out on him.

The LED on Nine’s temple spun blue to yellow, before returning back to complete blue, there were obvious questionings to why you were feeling like this. “It is recommended to get 7-9 hours of sleep and provide yourself with vitamin C and B12-”

“It’s not fucking like that, Nines!” You snapped, staring into his own eyes that bore into yours. You looked away, your eyes darting to look at the floor. “I’m depressed.”

Your eyes snapped up when you heard shuffling, looking to see him walk over to you. The RK900 was soon standing in front of you, hands folded in front of him as if he would fiddle with something for a distraction from keeping him bored.

“Why?” He asked, his tone a bit more demanding, and you had heard it from when he was extracting confessions out from deviants in interrogations. It put you far more on edge than you had realised.

Your back hit the kitchen counter, biting the inside of your cheek, neither one of you spoke for a second. “It's just... its... I’m lonely.”

“Lonely?” He questioned your choice of the word. “But you have the above-average number of friends.”

“I know that I just... it’s fucking weird and I know you will never understand, but I miss working.” He would never understand, no matter how much you tried to say it. “I just missed the interactions of everyone.”

“Everyone, including Gavin?” His musings made you almost roll your eyes. “Yes, even Gavin in a fucked up way. God, don’t tell him I said that.”

“What about me?” Nines asked.

You blinked owlishly up at him, his question brought you to feel nervous with your choice of an answer. You could tell the truth or lie, and either one, you didn’t know how he could react to your words.

“Nines-”

“Answer me,” he repeated it again lower, coming closer to you than you wanted to anticipate, so close you thought he knew he would be able to hear how fast your heart was beating, “did you miss me, Y/N?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on your breathing when you thought you had started panicking. Nines was not stopping when he witnessed how flustered you were getting; instead, he seemed to be relishing the moment.

“Look at me.” His demand wasn’t as harsh as you had imagined from his programming, a lot softer to make you look up at him in wonderment. Immediately, you could see how close he was now to you, practically towering over you.

He took his hand into your good one in a tentative manner, and you watched as the outer skin peeled back to show the synthetic layer beneath; the plastic feels to the lower layer that felt oddly cool in your hand. You stared at him in bewilderment, as Nines watched your reaction slowly, closing his own eyes briefly.

“They say that I was the latest made to be more resilient, a new prototype to be faster, stronger, the machine made just to help humans and nothing else.” He began, his voice was lower as he drew it out. “These... emotions are something I was not programmed into having, nor understanding.”

That part was back in the back of your head, telling you he was just a machine, nothing like the previous model, Connor; He could never deviate, could he?

“That being said,  it doesn’t mean it’s ever too late to learn, to understand for myself better what makes humans... human.”

“Nines,” You breathed breathlessly, your fingers gripping his involuntarily. His own eyes opened once again, blinking down upon you. There was still that neutral cold look to his already cooler colour counterpart, but there was a softness, a fondness behind them now.

“I want to learn, from you.” His fingers hesitated momentarily, treading themselves through the back of your hair, slowly maybe even out of curiosity trailing across your jaw. “These fickle emotions that make me want to understand you better.”

“Nines, you’re not deviating, are you?” You met his eyes with a loopy smile.

“No, I’m not.” He rolled his blue eyes your way, a half-smile on his face. “But I’m certain, this is me saying this and not what I’ve been programmed to say.”

Neither one of you spoke, nor needed to really, but you were pulled back when your soup was announced ready, breaking eye contact from him first. “Come, we can discuss these feelings better on the couch, with a movie--- have you seen Blade Runner?”

“Y/N, I have millions of films to stream, I’m sure I have possibly heard of it.” Nines teased softly, his dry sarcasm was something you had missed from him.

“Good, it’ll be easier for you to understand when we watch it.” You smiled, taking him by the hand and dragging him to the couch to spend the evening doing exactly that.

It took most of the rest of the night speaking freely about these topics with Nines, but you were sure he was getting the hang of them when he finally plucked the courage to put his own lips to yours.

You couldn’t complain that you had missed him indeed.

-

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[kwanisms]

Changes - lty

⤑ genre: angst, fluff, smut, idol!au ⤑ pairing: idol!Taeyong x Reader ⤑ warning: some angst, mention of alcohol, mention of sexual content, foul language ⤑ summary: Upon discovering you’re pregnant after hooking up with your friend Taeyong the night before he leaves for the NCT 127 world tour, you decide to take care of everything yourself. A year later, when the tour ends and Taeyong comes back, things threaten to change forever. ⤑ word count: 3.5k

a/n: this was actually inspired by a dream I had so, stew in the angst. Regular italics are the reader’s thoughts. Bolded italics are Taeyong’s thoughts.

The sound of water dripping could be heard over your shaky breaths, the droplets hitting the surface of the bath water you had drawn yourself some time ago. The heat had gone from the water, leaving you in a cold bath but you couldn’t bring yourself to get out.

Fresh tears streamed down your face, following the tracks of their predecessors. Hours it had been. Hours since you first sank into the hot water of your bath. Hours since you started crying, stopping occasionally only to start all over again.

You let out a shaky sigh, glancing over at the cause of your torment. A small piece of plastic sitting on the toilet seat cover. Positive. The pregnancy test mocked you with that small little plus sign. The world was cruel and you were alone in your apartment, remembering how you got into this situation in the first place.

You met Taeyong through one of your best friends, Mark. He was easy to get along with and you hit it off instantly, befriending him along with the rest of NCT. Taeyong made it obvious that he liked you from the beginning, flirting with you almost every chance he got.

It was Taeyong who suggested the obvious. There was clearly chemistry and attraction between the two of you. You were both consenting adults so it didn’t take much persuasion for you to end up in bed with him. You kept it a secret for the first few months but eventually Mark found out.

To your surprise, he was fine with it. He just urged the two of you to be smart and safe. You and Taeyong were very smart and you always used protection. Well, almost always.

You were sure it happened the one time Taeyong forgot to use a condom but you had been adamant that your birth control was enough. You were certain it would be enough. It was not.

Memories flashed in your mind of that night. The smell of his cologne mixed with his sweat and the smell of sex, the taste of the shots of whatever alcohol he had downed earlier at the club, the way he sounded when he groaned in your ear, and the way he dragged his teeth along the skin of your neck, earning the most illicit sounds from you.

You remembered the way he held your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress; strong and firm yet gentle. You could vividly remember the way he alternated between rolling and thrusting into you, the head of his cock hitting that one spot that had you seeing stars.

Taeyong knew your body well enough by that point that he could have you coming undone in minutes beneath him. He was a man of many talents.

You remembered the way his voice whispered in your ear, “I’m gonna come,” before you felt him release inside you. ‘It’s fine,’ you told yourself. ‘I’m on the pill.’ The next morning, Taeyong woke you up with soft kisses, reminding you he had to leave. “I’ve got a flight to catch,” you remembered him whispering in your ear, nuzzling your cheek with his nose.

“I’m going to miss you,” you murmured, mind hazy with sleep. Taeyong chuckled in your ear before placing another soft kiss to your cheek. “I’m just a phone call away if you get too lonely,” he reminded you. A few more kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and lips and he was gone.

Gone for over an entire year while he toured the world with the rest of his group, performing in cities all over the globe for his dedicated fans. ‘I’m just a phone call away, if you get too lonely.’ How wrong he was.

You sat on the edge of your bed wrapped in a towel, your phone in your grasp. You stared down at the contact icon before you. ‘Tae Tae.’ Something so intimate and affectionate. You would never have chosen that name if you knew how much trouble he would bring into your life.

You called once a day to no avail. He never picked up. He never sent a text. Nothing ever came from him.

You were panicking by 4 months. You were beginning to show and you needed him to know but you couldn’t tell him through text message. That wasn’t right. Neither was ignoring the woman you knocked up, but you supposed that couldn’t be helped.

After 6 months, you stopped trying. Your other friends knew you were pregnant as you couldn’t hide it from them anymore. Yoongi was the first to mention it, knowing the moment you gained weight that you were pregnant. Soonyoung and Seungkwan guessed it when you were just starting to show.

Questions arose about the father but you told them it was just you. They promised to be there for you and they stuck to their word. Yoongi was there when you gave birth, after promising he would be. Soonyoung and Seungkwan visited everyday, bringing with them Seokmin.

You gave birth to two healthy babies. Twins. A boy and a girl. You saw a lot of yourself in them but they still were a reminder of their father. You named them Minjoon and Mina. They were your entire world and from the moment they were born, your life was full and happy. At least until the twins turned five months old.

It was a particularly chilly and rainy day. Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan were over, keeping you and the twins company while you did chores. You had just finished doing your meal prep and were folding laundry when the doorbell rang. You got up from your seat laughing at the faces Seokmin was making at Mina, heading to open the door.

Upon opening it, your smile fell as you were greeted with five familiar faces. Five faces you hadn’t seen in over a year. Mark, Johnny, Jaehyun, Donghyuck, and Taeyong.

“(Y/N)!” Mark yelled, crossing the threshold first as he threw his arms around you. Shock had rendered you speechless. More than an entire year had passed since you spoke to or saw him and yet here he was on your doorstep. You hesitantly brought your arms up to return Mark’s hug before you realized what was going on.

Mark pulled back to look at you. “Wow,” he said, holding you at arms length. “You look amazing!” he said, smiling widely. You forced a smile back, ignoring him for a moment. You allowed your old friends to enter your apartment, the group laughing and joking before silence fell over the room.

Mark walked slowly toward the living area, peering over the couch where he saw your friends from Seventeen playing with two babies. The others noticed and moved to get a better look. “Whose babies?” Johnny asked, looking at Soonyoung who looked up, holding Minjoon and gently bouncing him.

“Mine,” you said stepping forward. Five sets of eyes landed on you, burning into your existence as you could see questioning looks flash in each pair of orbs. Mark was the first to speak. “You didn’t even tell me you were pregnant!” he said moving past the others to pull you into a tight hug.

You let out a nervous chuckle, ignoring his gaze. You could feel his eyes on you but you didn’t dare look. “Surprise!” you joked, causing Mark to laugh. “Can I meet them?” he asked and you nodded, excited for your best friend to meet your babies.

He moved to sit between Seokmin and Soonyoung, greeting Minjoon and Mina with a wide smile, offering each baby a toy as a show of good faith. The twins took an instant liking to him, crawling into his lap immediately. Mark let out a surprised laugh and looked up at you.

Donghyuck moved to sit across from him while the others sat on the couch, except for Taeyong who was looking at the twins, his eyes wide as he watched them. Jaehyun held out a small plush toy for Minjoon who took it from him, his eyes trained on Johnny who was handing small blocks to Mina.

“Who is the father?” Jaehyun asked, looking back at you. As you opened your mouth to speak, Soonyoung spoke up instead. “She doesn’t need him. The twins don’t need him. They have three amazing uncles instead,” he said tickling Mina.

You smiled at the sight. Mark perked up, looking at you. “I’m an uncle too, right?” he asked, a smile breaking over his face when you nodded. “Of course,” you said reassuringly as Johnny turned his attention from Mina to Minjoon.

The little boy took one look at Johnny and his bottom lip started to quiver before he let out a scream, followed by loud crying. You moved quickly, leaning down to pick him up and hold him close to you. Johnny looked up at Minjoon in your arms, shock taking over his face while the others teased him for making Minjoon cry. “I didn’t do anything!” he insisted while the others laughed. Seungkwan took Mina as she crawled from Jaehyun’s lap to his.

You rocked Minjoon slowly, swaying from side to side while you tried to calm the crying baby in your arms. Your eyes locked with Taeyong’s and there was a moment where everything seemed to slow down. He watched you with the baby, his lips parted slightly as he stared.

Unbeknownst to you, Mark was looking at Mina in Seungkwan’s arms to Taeyong and back. His eyes widened slowly as he realized what he was seeing. He looked up at you, holding Minjoon and it clicked in his head. You turned to look at him and you knew he knew. Crap.

The five of them got up after visiting for a while, heading for the door. You passed a sleeping Minjoon to Soonyoung and moved to walk them to the door. Mark grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the others. He glanced over his shoulder before turning back to face you.

“Okay, out with it,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” he asked. You glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Because I wanted to tell him myself,” you whispered and Mark’s eyes widened as you confirmed his suspicions. “Why didn’t you tell him already?” he asked.

You sighed deeply. “Because he wouldn’t answer my calls, Mark. Over a year and he wouldn’t answer me. No text, no calls, nothing. So I said ‘fuck it. I can do this on my own.’ And if you haven’t noticed,” you said glancing at your babies. “I am doing this on my own,” you added.

Mark looked at the others waiting for him by the door, noticing the way Taeyong was looking at the babies. “I think he already knows,” he said looking back at you. “He needs to know, but I won’t be the one to tell him,” he added before pulling you into a hug.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he whispered before giving you another squeeze and letting go. “Alright guys,” he called to the others as he approached them. “Let’s get out of here!” he said ushering them out. You waved as you heard Donghyuck, Johnny, and Jaehyun called to you.

You shut the door behind them and let out a sigh of relief. ‘That could have been a lot worse.’

A couple of weeks went by without incident. Mark and Donghyuck came over between practices to visit the babies. Minjoon and Mina took a huge liking to Mark, playing almost exclusively with him and ignoring Donghyuck who took it a little harder than necessary.

“They hate me!” he said as you flipped the chicken in the skillet over, a grin on your face. Donghyuck sat on the stool across from you, peering back at Mark and the twins in the living room. “They just LOVE him,” he added with a frown. You picked up a piece of chicken and blew on it before holding it out for the whining man in front of you. He ate it quickly. “Thanks,” he said as he chewed.

“Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too close to heart?” you asked with a smirk. “They’re babies, Hyuck. They don’t hate you,” you added with a chuckle. “Just bribe them with toys,” you said nodding at the toy bin. Donghyuck turned to look at the twins. “I’m going back in,” he said before getting up and rejoining the three.

After helping you put the babies down for the night, Mark and Donghyuck hugged you before making their exit, promising to be back again next week. You cleaned up the front room, putting the babies toys away before doing the dishes and getting ready for bed.

A small part of you wondered what he was doing before you shook your head, trying to dislodge the thought from your mind. ‘It doesn’t matter (Y/N). Stop thinking about him.’

A few days later, you decided to take the twins out for some fresh air, packing a small lunch to take to the park before putting the babies in their strollers. Seungkwan offered to meet you in the lobby of your building to go out with you and you were thankful he did. There was no way you could push two strollers by yourself.

The familiar smile of one of your closest friends greeted you downstairs as you approached, attempting to push both strollers. Seungkwan happily took Mina, pushing her along as the pair of you headed out onto the sidewalk.

The walk to the local park took no time at all and soon, you and Seungkwan were walking the perimeter of the park, pushing the twins. Several times, passerbys stopped to look at the twins, remarking on how cute they were. A few Seventeen fans were shocked and asked if Seungkwan was the dad, he had to explain that he was not, the dad; just a very good friend of yours.

After walking the entire perimeter of the park, Seungkwan helped you set up a blanket and sat with you while the twins played.

“Does he know?” Seungkwan asked, looking up from Mina in his arms as she waved a plush toy around. Minjoon was currently trying to eat his foot in your arms. You shook your head. “I don’t know if he knows for sure,” you replied looking around the park.

Of course you were talking about him. He hadn’t called, texted, or come by since that day. You had your suspicions that Taeyong knew. How could he not?

“I’m sure he does,” Seungkwan said looking down at Mina, who was babbling excitedly and looking up at him. “How could he not? They look just like him,” he added looking up at you.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Thanks for reminding me,” you said, repositioning Minjoon in your arms as he started to get fussy. “I think they’re getting hungry,” Seungkwan said as Mina, too, started whining.

The two of you fed the twins, snacking on the fruit and nut mix you had brought along. After the twins were fed, Seungkwan helped you strap them back in their strollers, this time pushing Minjoon and letting you push Mina as you headed back for your apartment.

He walked you up to your floor, helping you get the twins inside and setting them down for their afternoon nap.

“Thanks again, Kwannie,” you said, pulling him into a hug. “Of course,” he said, giving you a small squeeze. “I love them more than anything so I’m always happy to spend some time with them,” he added. You waved Seungkwan out before going about your chores.

You had just sat down to fold some laundry when the buzzer buzzed. You got up and walked to the door to check it out. Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat when you saw who was on the other side of the door. ‘Taeyong?’

You debated with yourself on whether or not you should open it.

‘What does he want?’ ‘Is he here to see me or the twins?’ ‘Does he know they’re his?’ ‘What if he doesn’t?’ ‘What if he does?’ ‘I could always pretend to not be here.’ ‘He probably knows I’m home. I’ve got twins, where am I gonna go?’

You paced in front of the door for a few moments before you sighed and reached for the door knob. You took a deep breath and turned the handle, opening the door slowly.

Taeyong looked up as the door swung open and he was met with your very confused but terrified expression. The two of you said nothing, only staring at one another before Taeyong reminded himself why he was there. “Can I come in?” he asked softly.

You nodded, stepping back to allow him in. He rushed in past you, leaving you to slowly shut the door behind him. He looked around, not seeing the twins anywhere. He rounded on you. “Where are they?” he asked, watching as you slowly approached him, arms crossed over your chest. ‘She’s closing herself off from me,’ he said to himself. ‘Does she know that I know?’

You nodding towards the back of the apartment. “I just put them down for their nap,” you replied quietly.

Taeyong started to move towards you but stopped himself. ‘She doesn’t want you,’ he told himself.

“Are they mine?” he asked, knowing it was a stupid question. ‘Of course they’re yours, you idiot!’ he screamed at himself. You let out a deep sigh before nodding slowly. Taeyong felt his stomach twist, churning into knots. ‘How could you keep this from me, keep them from me?!’ his brain screamed.

“When were you planning on telling me?” he asked quietly. You stared at him, mouth slightly parted.

“When were you going to ever answer my texts or calls?” you retorted. ‘Good point,’ Taeyong said mentally.

“I was busy on tour,” he stated plainly. ‘Well, that’s a shitty excuse.’

You shook your head. “That’s why I decided to take care of things myself,” you said pushing past him to sit on the couch and started folding laundry. Taeyong followed, kneeling down next to you. “I didn’t want you to take care of things by yourself,” he said. ‘Is that all you can say? Pathetic.’

You turned to him, glaring at him. “What’s done is done. The twins are mine. Your name isn’t anywhere near them. I left that part of their birth certificates blank,” you hissed. ‘Ouch.’

Taeyong ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Just tell her how you feel, idiot.’

You got up from your seat and stepped around Taeyong to move into the kitchen. He got up, following you. ‘Just tell her!!’ You spun on your heel, opening your mouth to ask him what he wanted when he grabbed you by the hands and pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. You froze, uncertain how to respond. ‘Should I push him off? Do I hit him? Should I yell?’ You couldn’t process it, any of it, so instead you did what you already had done enough of. You cried.

Tears fell freely as your shoulders shook. Taeyong held you tightly against him, letting you cry it out.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered in your ear.

“You promised you’d be there,” you sobbed against his chest, your tears staining the front of his shirt. “You promised you’d be there and you weren’t!” Taeyong nodded silently. He knew. He knew what he did wrong. He broke his promise.

“I know,” he finally said. “I broke my promise,” he added. You shook your head. “No,” you murmured. “You broke more than that.”

To say that didn’t sting, Taeyong would be lying. Your words hurt, but he had no one to blame but himself. He broke his promise and your heart just like that and blamed it on being too busy. In reality, he wasn’t busy. He was lazy. Too lazy to pick up the phone when you called. Too lazy to answer your texts.

You had important, life changing news but he couldn’t even be bothered. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ 

The two of you stood, unmoving, unspeaking as you slowly calmed down. Finally you pulled back to look up at him. There was a sadness in his eyes. The pain he caused you finally weighing on him. “I’m--” he started to say but you cut him off, pressing your finger against his lips.

“Don’t. I heard you. I know,” you replied.

You sat at the kitchen island, two cups of coffee in front of the two of you. You sniffled, looking at the counter top. “I want to be in their lives,” Taeyong whispered. “Can I?” he asked. You didn’t answer him.

“(Y/N)?” he asked. You glanced up, as if just coming out of a trance. “Huh?” you asked. Taeyong reached over, taking your hand. “I want to be in their lives,” he repeated. “Can I be in their lives?” he asked. You looked down at your hands. ‘Should I?’ you wondered.

After a few moments of silence you looked up, finding Taeyong’s waiting gaze. You nodded. “Yes.”

[theinfinitybucky]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x reader (platonic, “siblings”)

Summary: Before the reader joined the Avengers, she was doctor who was tortured by HYDRA and given the power to heal or kill. When Bucky returns, they become close friends who are forced to act as a married couple so they can foil the plans of someone who plots to create a nuclear bomb and destroy half the world.

Trigger Warnings for this Chapter: PTSD related themes

Chapter One

MASTERLIST

Another night without sleep you thought to yourself as you finally pulled yourself out of the blistering hot covers. You lowered yourself off the bed and stood up with a sigh. Maybe a glass of water would help. It was like you had drank a cup of coffee before going to bed every night all though no latte had gone down your throat. You dragged yourself down the stairs in frustration because it was only one in the morning and you had a lengthy night ahead of you.

Sleep never came easily to you. It had become incredibly difficult to even get an hour after your time with HYDRA. Some days were worse than others. In the month since Bucky had showed up, it seemed to have taken a turn for the terrible. Bucky had brought back memories that you had buried in the past few years since you had gotten back to America. It wasn’t that you disliked Bucky, it was more so the fact that he brought up things that you thought you would not have to relive. He was currently going through what you had gone through two years before. You tried to avoid him to avoid the memories he triggered. You walked down the stairs into the living room to get to the obscenely large kitchen. You flipped a light on and pulled a glass out of the cabinet. For a split second a memory passed.

The room was freezing and the only warm you could even find was from the small lightbulb in the corner. You huddled over by it, hoping that somehow that one small flickering light would save you from frostbite. They had killed everyone. Their dried blood was still on your hands. You could have saved them. The gun shots had rung out of nowhere and struck multiple people in the platoon you were working with. You attempted to render the medical attention that you knew. It was no use. You attackers enclosed too quickly and there was no escaping. They had taken you to whatever the terrible place was. You had no idea who they were or what they wanted, but you would find that out all too soon.

A chill ran over the back of your neck and down your whole body covering it in goosebumps as you remembered the frigid room that HYDRA had kept you in. You heard someone sneaking up behind you. There was a sudden urge to reach for one of the kitchen knives on the counter. You were still on edge from the passing memory. You resisted the urge and turned to see Steve leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“How are the nightmares?” Steve’s voice made you jerk around quickly. 

    “You know you shouldn’t creep up on me like that.” You snapped at him in an attempt to avoid the question he asked.

    Steve saw straight through your diversion. “I know something’s wrong. You’ve been acting… off.” You stirred through your brain for a moment as you tried to decide what to tell him. Steve had been there for you through it all. He knew about all the nights you paced the Avengers compound. He was like your brother and he thought of you as a sister.

“I can never heal myself. At least in this sense.” You muttered without looking him in the eye. The refrigerator began to hum softly in the background. You leaned against the cool marble of the kitchen counter. Steve sighed and ran a hand over his face. It pained him to see you turning back to your old habits.

“Is this because of Bucky?” He wondered and you continued to avoid the eye contact therefore answering the question.

“I’m fine.” You interjected.

He began in a stressed tone, “God, Y/N. I wish the two of you would just talk to each other or at least interact. I know that you don’t want to, but please do this for me.” You took in his request for a second. He had done so much for you. He had extracted you from HYDRA and this was all that he had ever asked of you. You nodded in respect of his request. It would not be easy to get yourself to open up with Bucky. Bucky might not want to open up to you either. The least you could do is attempt to interact with him. He was Steve’s best friend so he couldn’t be that bad… Or he wasn’t that bad in the past.

Steve stayed up with you for a bit then eventually left because he was getting tired himself. You dragged yourself back to the bedroom a few hours later and fell asleep at around 4 am only to wake up an hour later to your alarm clock. A day of training was ahead of you and you hoped that would let exhaustion overcome you later so you could sleep.

Later that same night, you tried to go sleep as your muscles ached from the long day. Sleep came more easily than the night before. You finally drifted off into the opening arms of what was sleep. Another nightmare waited to flare up in your mind. Only this was more of a memory...

“Would you let her die for you?” Von Strucker whispered in your ear. You watched the dark haired woman scream as a blade was raked across her skin.

“No.” You said through gritted teeth as your wrists jerked beneath the handcuffs that held you to the chair on both sides. You had been stuck inside the walls of HYDRA somewhere in eastern Europe for months now. They had taken everything from you. Every last soldier who had ever said your name was dead. Now they used people you had never met as leverage. You learned their stories.

She would bleed out soon if you didn’t cave. You wished that you could lose your conscience sometimes. You yearned for the day that these random lives no longer mattered to you. In the back of your mind, you thought of what kept you in these situations… A mother, a daughter, a son, a father. You may have lost everything, yet the families that arrived every week kept you here.

“Stop!” You yelled before they struck the woman’s carotid with the blade of the knife. The man who was in charge of the torture paused and glanced to von Strucker. The man lifted a finger for the torturer to wait. Your voice came out with a quiver, “Who do I have to kill…”

Just as von Strucker was about to speak you jerked in the bed. Your body was covered in sweat and your heart was racing. You breathed heavily and pulled your hair away from your face. You sat up in the bed and caught your breath. You would never be able to forget what you had done. All the lives you had taken away without even one touch. You still had the ability to kill someone if they were in the same room. Steve had taught you that you could use your powers to heal and that was the only thing that kept you going.

You tried to snap your thoughts away from the past. You got out of the warm bed that never put you to sleep. Your throat was dry as a Sahara desert. Some water was all you needed, you told yourself. You walked down the long hall to the kitchen. You heard snoring as you passed some of your team member’s rooms. As you neared the kitchen, you saw the lights were already on.

    You rounded the corner to find Bucky sitting at the counter with a book. He glanced up and his eyes caught your own. You didn’t take note of the title as he set it down. He uncomfortably shifted in the chair.

    “Guess I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep.” His tone came out smoothly. The whole situation was awkward in a sense. You had been avoiding him and surely he knew it. The moment he would enter a room you would leave. You wanted to leave now. The thought of Steve requesting you to make friends with Bucky ran across your mind. Now was your chance.

    “No, I suppose not.” You told him softly. You pulled out the stool next to him and took a seat in it. He was surprised by the gesture but didn’t question it in the moment. You sat there for a second trying to figure out what to say next. You hoped Bucky would say something yet he did not. He sat there without looking at you while also not picking his book back up.

    “Why can’t you sleep?” You queried him.

    He glanced downward for a second trying to determine if he was going to tell you the truth. “Nightmares,” He decided. “Or memories.” You watched him and waited for him to offer up more. As a few seconds passed, you realized that he would not be telling you more. 

“You have to talk about it with someone. I know how the story goes. You say, ‘I’m fine’ and then tell them you don’t want to talk about it. Then you never do. You never release that burden…” His blue eyes met your own. You deciphered the look on his face as shock. He hadn’t expected for you to offer up anything like this. “Look, I know what HYDRA was like. You can lie to everyone else, but I see through it. What comes after the war is the real battle…”

You trailed off. You began to decipher what you were doing to do next. Would you tell him how you had gotten here?

You began your story even though he didn’t ask for it, “I did things that would make your skin crawl before I was even part of HYDRA. I’ve stuffed men’s intestines back inside their body with my bare hands in the field, but isn’t what broke me.” You paused for a second as the pang of a memory arose. You gritted your teeth together for a second so you were able to fight it off this time.

“Before HYDRA, I was a doctor in the army. My parents died when I was 16 so the army was my only chance at making a life for myself. They paid for my education and in turn I did two tours. The first one was not that bad. The second… was different. HYDRA stormed the camp we had made. HYDRA was shooting up the place then the bomb went off and that’s where it all kind of goes black...”

Bucky watched as you revealed what he never thought you would. Steve had told him that you were very private about what happened. The only other person on the team who even had any idea of your past was Steve. Bucky did not interrupt because he didn’t want to ask for any more information than you planned on giving. He knew that he wouldn’t want to reveal any extra details.

“I’m not sure what happened for the first six months. I just know that I woke up and felt different. They performed various tests on me until they figured out what I could do.” You swallowed at the thought of the trials. “That’s when it began getting bad…”

“Y/N. You don’t have to tell me this.” Bucky touched your hand. You didn’t pull away.

“I want to.” You told him the truth. He left his hand on your own as you continued. The small amount of touch was comforting and anchored you to reality. “I spent two years there. They brought civilians in for two years. Every day would be a new person and every day I would cave. I know that I did more damage by doing what they wanted, I hate-.”

Bucky cut you off, “Dont-.”

“What?”

“Don’t hate yourself for things you did under duress.” You stared into his eyes as you tried to understand how he could say that. You knew he hated what he had done too. How could he give this advice, but not take it.

“You know I could say the same thing to you.” You told him with a lopsided smile. He cracked a small smile of his own. 

“You could.” Bucky sighed and looked at his hand which was still on yours. Why neither of you were pulling away was a mystery. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I’ve killed good people. The one thing that always haunts me is their faces. I will never forget one.” Your eyes locked with his. This may have been the start of a great friendship.

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