#i like to think that even though this scar is stuck here he's collected items from everyone on the server | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

danceworshipper · 3 years ago

Text

Giulio Moretti - HPMA Character Profile

template by me // images created using the zepeto app

NOTE: I am a cisgender female. As such, I have been hesitant to make a trans oc and will not be going into much detail about Giulio's experiences specifically related to his gender. If anything in here feels iffy to anyone not cisgender, please let me know and I'll correct it

Personal

Full Name: Giulio Antonio Moretti

Gender: Male (trans)

Sexuality: Demisexual, polyamorous

Birthday: June 1st

Age: 11

Birthstone: Alexandrite

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Blood Status: Full Veela

- I'm mostly using these headcanons written by @carmilla-the-bird, though over time I might end up changing a couple details

- I'm not certain if full Veelas would even use wands/go to magic school but these ones do because I say so

- What I'm specifically adding is that since HPMA takes place later than the full HP series, there has been a new method developed to allow full veelas to better coexist with wizards. This comes in the form of a clear gemstone that can be inserted into any piece of jewelry, usually necklaces. While the stone is worn, the charm [or allure, as I call it] that all veelas have while glamored is dampened by up to 80%. Another effect is that when angered, the veela won't be able to lash out with their fire magic, unless they've trained their magic well enough that's it's less of an instinct and more of a conscious choice. Minors are legally required to wear it at all times, except in their own home with only their family around. Once an adult the veela can choose whether they want to wear it or not. The stone has a similar trace to underaged magic, so when a Veela who's a minor takes it off, the Ministry is alerted and their location will be tracked

3 Positive Traits:

- Empathetic

- Resourceful

- Playful

3 Negative Traits:

- Irritable

- Addictive

- Pessimistic

Usual First Impression: When meeting Giulio, most people see him as a spoiled and stuck up little boy. This isn't true. He's just very wary of strangers, so he doesn't tend to leave a good first impression. Once he's more comfortable around someone, his positive traits outshine the more negative ones

Location

Birthplace: A Veela-specific clinic in southern Italy. His mother travelled there for all of her children's births, and the midwife there is the woman who delivered her

Current Home: His family home in England, a medium sized house under a strict Fidelius charm, which his aunt is the Secret Keeper for. His bedroom is on the second floor, looking out over the fish pond in the backyard

Future Home(s): Fresh out of Hogwarts he'll share an apartment with Lori with heavily warded Floo access. Later homes TBD once his love interests are planned out

Favorite Place: The little house the family rents for a month every summer in southern Italy. The town is full of good culture, and better yet, good food. It feels peaceful, even when there's a loud festival going on

Disliked Place: The woods a mile down the road from his home. The woods are the last place Giulio saw his grandmother before she went missing, and now they feel like they're haunted. He refuses to go on walks there anymore

Appearance

Face Shape: Round, slightly pointy chin

Eye Color: Deep teal

Hair Color: Whitish blond

Hair Style: Self cut (horrifies his mother), slightly uneven, medium length. Not brushed every day, fluffy

Skin Tone: Pale

Freckles/Spots: A few beauty marks on his face, two near his right eye and one on the left side of his chin

Scars: None yet

Piercings/Tattoos: None

Height: 5'7" [fully grown]

Weight: ~ 135 lbs [fully grown]

Physique: Thin. Luckily for him, Giulio's family has always had rather "boyish" bodies - wide shoulders, not very curvy - but he's still got too much woman in him to be fully happy with his form

Clothing Style: Baggy tops, loose pants, nothing fancy. Giulio tries to attract as little attention as possible, because while he's glamored people stare at him a lot anyway, even with the dampener. He does like colored pants, but his tops are usually grey and black. His dampening necklace is the most eye catching thing he wears (as it was a gift from his missing grandmother) and he wishes he could take it off, but he legally can't

Carried Items:

- The last picture of him, his sisters, and his grandmother ever taken

- A lighter. He likes having the fire near him since he can't access his own fire magic

- His hair scissors, for whenever he feels like it needs to be trimmed

- A container of Silly Putty he got from a Muggle convenience store

- His water bottle

Magic

Wand: 10" Veela hair wand in Fir wood. A very pale colored wand that's a bit rough around the edges. The hair is from his younger sister Martina, who yanked the strand right out and handed it to the wandmaker after no wands appeared to choose a very defeated looking Giulio. The wand was made while Giulio watched, and he checked it many times throughout the process to make sure it felt like it would have him, which it did.

Animagus: As a veela, Giulio can transform into pretty much any bird shape. He has no need to go through the animagus process

Boggart Form: Him, fully matured, very womanly, and in a wedding gown just like the ones his older sister Alessia fawns over

Riddikulus Form: Him in a ridiculously exaggerated Bloody Baron costume

Amortentia (to others): Someone smelling Giulio would smell new pillows, the faint burning metal scent that clings to him, and the dry shampoo he uses

Amortentia (to them): He doesn't smell any sort of romantic interest yet. What he smells now are safe, comforting smells, like the cigars his mother and aunt smoke, the perfume all his sisters use, and the smell of his favorite restaurant in southern Italy

Patronus: Bird of Paradise

Happiest Memory: Receiving his wand once it was completed, and finally feeling the connection and power he'd heard so much about but thought he'd never have

Mirror of Erised: Some might consider it sad, but all he sees is him, happy, the way he wishes he was - including not looking at all like a Veela. Someday this will change

Family Spells: It's not really a spell, but the Morettis have a particular bird call that, when paired with the right charm, will alert every living family member to the caller's location, should one desperately need help. It's only to be used in emergencies. Giulio isn't sure he wants to know why his grandmother never used it

Inherent Magic: Veela stuff - storm sense, fire, bird transformations, allure, slight levitation abilities

Family

Grandmother: Francesca is not an ideal parental figure. She grew up in a time when full Veelas were treated with nearly the same suspicion and prejudice as werewolves, so she's very anti-human. However, she was still one of Giulio's best defenders and most treasured family members. She places a huge importance on family and is the one who came up with the idea of the special danger call. Francesca went missing when Giulio was seven, and there have been no clues as to what happened.

Mother: Valentina is a kind, gentle woman who cares for her family before anyone else. She and her sister were taught all their lives to be nothing more than a pretty face, and while Bianca rejected this, Valentina embraced it. Even now, with her own mother nowhere to be found, she has trouble remembering to be herself. She wears her necklace at all times, terrified to be without it

Father: Giulio never knew him. He's not sure he even has one

Aunt: Bianca is, in many ways, the exact opposite of her sister. Bianca embraces all of her less than proper instincts, and even walks around in public completely unglamored, acting as a good deterrent to anyone who might want to come say hi, innocent intentions or not. Gets angry very easily, and has caused public property damage more often than Valentina would appreciate

Sisters: Two older sisters, one younger. All Slytherins while in school

- Alessia, six years older, prefect. A headstrong young woman who takes advantage of her allure to get what she wants, and is skilled enough to fight off anyone who gets too "friendly". She likes to have a collection of boy toys she never lets get too close, but secretly only has eyes for the Hufflepuff prefect, Lina.

- Emilia, four years older, Quidditch captain. Hates her allure with a passion and refuses to even think about romance until she's out of school. Could kick anyone's ass, and will do so if she feels the need to. Very protective of Giulio, has gotten into at least eight shouting matches with those who misgender him

- Martina, one year younger. The baby of the family. A bit of a spoiled brat, and too young to fully understand exactly why her older siblings are all so wary of strangers, or letting her out of their sight. She dreams of being the Minister of Magic, and of being able to take her "stupid, ugly, and stupid" necklace off for good

Pets: The two family screech owls which trade off being at school/home, and an Abraxan Giulio found on Hogwarts grounds that likes him a lot

Family Values: The Morettis hold nothing higher than each other. The family's main priority is sticking together, and always doing whatever they can to help each other achieve whatever they wish. The family is also, as a whole, rather reclusive

Opinion of Family: Giulio loves his family. For all their faults, they hold true to their values and he couldn't imagine one of them ever betraying another. Even if they won't ever truly understand him, they've all tried and they do what they can, and it means more than he can say

Friendships

Introverted or Extroverted: Introverted

Best Friend: Oleander Loris. Her anger issues, her weird pink eyes, and her tendency to drag him along to social outings are all things that Giulio comes to appreciate over time. He originally became curious about her on the train ride to school, when she stumbled looking at his older sisters but didn't notice him at all, and they spoke for the first time in Flying class. Lori is definitely a force to be reckoned with, and the fact that she's not affected by his allure in the slightest makes him feel really happy

Worst Friend: TBD

Friend He Didn't Expect: Cassandra. They aren't the best of friends, and maybe they can't be considered friends at all, but she doesn't hold the contempt she seems to hold for most others for him

Who He Wishes Was His Friend: Kestra Fernera. She's got fire powers, and she doesn't have to be chained down by the Ministry. He thinks she's super cool, and is very jealous of her and how popular she is, but he's far too nervous to try and talk to her

List of Casual Friends:

- Brian Haywood-Reese @catohphm

- others TBD, but likely the main cast of the game. Mc friends welcome, if any are interested!

Romance

Current Crush: None

Current Partner: None

Past Partners: None

Future Partners: TBD

His Type: Pretty much anyone who's able to look past the allure that Giulio hates so much and also isn't afraid of him in his natural form, though most people haven't even seen it

Hogwarts

House: Slytherin

Prefect Status: No

Quidditch: Not on the team, but plays casually

Clubs: TBD

Organizations: None

Favorite Class: Flying. Duh

Least Favorite Class: Potions. It gives him a headache surrounded by all the fumes

Favorite Professor: TBD

Least Favorite Professor: TBD

Timeline

Young Childhood:

- Giulio realizes young that he hates the idea of being a girl, and insists that his mother change his name. His family thought it was a phase, but once they realized it wasn't, they became more serious and started to see what they could do to help him

- He's a sheltered child, learning early the importance of staying close to a trusted adult. He sees the horrors of what can happen to a Veela caught unaware at a young age when he almost loses his mother to someone who wanted to sell her, and never looks at strangers the same way again

- At five years old Giulio is given his dampener necklace. He refuses to wear it until his grandmother forcibly puts it on him. He decides it's not that bad, though it feels like it's choking him and he doesn't like the muted feeling in his hands that comes from the loss of his instinctual magic

- At seven years old, Giulio is on a walk with his grandmother in the woods when he hears a loud screech. She sends him back toward the house, saying she'll be right behind him. Hours pass, and she never follows. There's no evidence as to what that screech was, or what happened to his grandmother

- At eleven years old, Giulio spends a week traveling to different wandmakers around Europe trying to find a wand so he can go to school in the fall. For some reason, his magic is picky and not a single wand even comes close to working for him. When he's given up all hope, his little sister Martina asks if the wandmaker takes custom orders, and rips out her own hair to be used for Giulio's wand. It's the first time Giulio cries happy tears, hovering his hand over the uncompleted wand and feeling it call to him already

School Years: TBD once I'm able to play the game

Post Graduation: Giulio moves into an apartment with Lori soon after graduating. While she immediately starts work, Giulio takes time to find some higher education, and work on training his Veela magic now that he can take his necklace off whenever he wants

Career(s): TBD

Marriage and Children: TBD

Death: Giulio will be murdered by [redacted] in order to save [redacted]'s life, but he'll be very old (around 200) and will have outlived his lovers, so he doesn't see it as too much of a shame. He'll be buried in the family garden and have some lovely flower bushes planted over him

Notable Facts Not Previously Mentioned

- The Veela magic in Giulio recognizes him as a boy as soon as he does. When his allure kicks in, anyone attracted to men finds themself affected, while those strictly into women do not, even though male Veelas are practically unheard of

- His aunt Bianca paid a personal visit to Hogwarts before he was enrolled, ready to throw flames if he was going to be put into the female dorms. Luckily, she didn't need to worry, as once the situation was explained it was settled with a simple change in his paperwork

- Giulio hates being cooped up indoors for too long. Even in the coldest days of winter, he'll spend as much time as possible outside

- Starting in third year, Lori will figure out how to get the necklace off of him without alerting anyone [putting it on herself within a few seconds], and Giulio will occasionally spend a few hours free and in his natural form in the Forbidden Forest. Unbeknownst to him, wearing the necklace saps at Lori's magical core, and it takes her a day or so to regain her strength if she wears it for more than thirty minutes

- Giulio will likely have three partners in the future. He could never even imagine having one, so if his younger self was told he would have three he would probably have a difficult time believing it

- Cutting his hair so frequently doesn't affect his magic like his mother feared it would, though he does feel nauseous when he does it

- The dark teal eyes are something only he and his sisters have, which is how he knows they all have the same "father" or whatever they had. His mother, aunt, and grandmother all have the traditional black eyes. Not even Alessia ever saw any type of man around when her younger siblings were born, so there are no clues as to how the four of them exist

- As much as he hates the dampener, it does him a lot of good when he's younger. He gets angry easily and often feels very defensive, so without it he could have gotten into a lot of trouble

- Though he doesn't like his allure, Giulio will sometimes take advantage of it like Alessia does if he wants to get out of something. He won't fight it, he'll play nice, and let whoever he needs to back off get a little dazed

- He wanted to hide the fact that he was a Veela when he first came to Hogwarts, but with two older sisters and his allure he couldn't

#harry potter magic awakened #magic awakened #hpma #hpma oc #giulio moretti #veela oc #slytherin oc #I'm probably going to play as him tbh since it would feel wrong to play a character in any other house

18 notes · View notes

something-tofightfor · 4 years ago

Text

Seasons to Cycles / 1

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader

Word Count: 9217

Rating: M (Mentions of drug use, sex with multiple partners, language)

Summary: A chance encounter brings someone new into your life. Is this the beginning of a serious change - and an important addition - or is it just chance?

Author’s Note: Well I am terrified to post this. Most of you know how important writing Logan CORRECTLY is to me, and so I’m really worried about this one, because it’s a very different take on him. There’s a lot that I have to say without directly saying it - but please, stick with me, and I PROMISE everything will be explained in good time.

I chose the “long chapter” route rather than breaking it up, because as I was editing, it didn’t make sense to end it sooner/the only cut point was at 3500 words, which would still have left a 7,000 second part.

Don’t be afraid to give me your honest opinions about this one... I want them, and I can take it.

This song sets the tone for the entire story. This is the mindset I’m writing Logan with. It’s not going to be pretty.

I figured I’d be able to get in and out before I went to see Jess, and now… You sighed, pushing your cart through the aisles of the grocery store and reaching around people to grab items from the shelves. Guess everyone else had the same thought. I should have just gone to Safeway. Groaning quietly, you sidestepped a woman and her child to get to the last aisle you needed - the flowers and cards. Gotta grab one for Jess, and then… But you stopped in your tracks at the sight of someone standing next to their cart in front of the card rack, taking up the majority of it. For real? Shifting on your feet, you leaned forward, eyeing the man’s back, and willing him to hurry. He’s taking up the…

But after nearly a full minute of the man standing still with his hands in his pockets, you decided to speak. I can’t stay here all night. “Excuse me.” The man still didn’t move, and you rolled your eyes as you cleared your throat. “Hey, you? In the dress shirt? Excuse me.” Finally, he turned his head toward you, and you again paused. Holy shit, what is someone that looks like that doing in here? “I know picking cards out is a pretty serious thing, but uh, you’re blocking the whole aisle.” Glancing into his cart, you raised an eyebrow. “And your ice cream’s going to melt.” His eyes going wide, the man turned further, looking down into his cart and swearing under his breath, one hand coming out of his pocket and raking through his hair - though the motion didn’t disrupt the styling. He looks familiar, but I don’t …

“Shit.” The man turned completely away from the shelf, reaching in to pick up the carton of ice cream, carefully inspecting it, even as his fingers pushed into the sides. “I didn’t even…” He set it down and then looked back at you, dark brown eyes fixed on your face. “I figured I’d pick one and be outta here, but it…” He shrugged. “Sorry, let me move the cart.” Before you could reply, the man was rolling it further down the aisle, where the only thing it could block was a spinning display of children’s books.

“Thank you.” Your cart out of the way too, you stepped closer to the shelf, crouching down and eyeing the birthday cards on the lower rows. The man stepped back next to you, still looking through the shelves, and after a few seconds, you looked up at him again, narrowing your eyes as you watched him reach for one and then draw his hand back. “Are you looking for something in particular? Wife? Girlfriend? Brother? S-”

“My housekeeper’s son broke his arm.” He sighed, pulling his left hand from his pocket and letting it hang next to his thigh. No ring. But that doesn’t mean… “So she had to cancel on me today, and probably for the rest of the week, so I’m here gettin’ my own groceries, and I thought I’d stop an’ take him some ice cream and a card on my way home.” Your lips parted at the explanation, and you shifted on your feet, hands resting on your bent knees. Maybe I should break my arm and see if someone that looks like him brings me a treat. “My sister broke her leg as a kid, and I remember all she did was eat ice cream an’ watch cartoons, so -”

“Well.” You stood, grinning at him. “You’re gonna want to get a fresh container, because that one you’ve already got looks a little sad.” He wrinkled his nose at your words but nodded, and you continued. “How old is he?” The man thought for a second and then shook his head. “Seven? Eight?” You watched his jaw work, noticing a small, thin scar high on his cheekbone. “I think he just had a birthday, but I …” You reached past the man, picking out a card with a chocolate chip cookie with a face on the front, a large, colorful bandaid affixed to the top of it’s head. “A cookie?” He sounded incredulous, but you just nodded, handing him the card and waiting for him to open it. “You’re one tough cookie… that’s so stupid, it…” But he was fighting back a laugh as he glanced over at you.

“It is stupid, but that’s the point. He’s a kid. It’ll make him laugh.” You shrugged. “And, it’s not that pseudo-inspirational bullshit that people always try to give people when they…” He laughed again and you stopped speaking, unsure of what was so funny. “Anyway,” you continued as he smiled at you, one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk that forced his cheek round. “It’s just a suggestion, but I -”

“Thank you.” The man nodded again and then looked away, reaching for an envelope, his long fingers plucking it from the shelf with ease. “I woulda stood here for another ten minutes, and probably picked out one of those… what’d you say? Pseudo-inspirational bullshit cards? Perfect for a kid, right? I have no idea what most of ‘em like.” Chuckling, you dropped down again, eyes moving over the cards in front of you and reading them quickly.

“Glad to help.” You grabbed a card too, flipping it open to read the inside and then straightening, noticing that the man was still waiting next to you. What is …

“I’m serious, thank you for the help.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he closed his eyes briefly for a second. “It’s probably pretty obvious that I don’t spend a lot of time in -”

“Hey, I’m not judging you.” You tucked your card into its envelope and pressed your lips together. “Like I said, picking out cards is a -”

“No, I…” He rolled his eyes. “I’m Logan.” Logan… you don’t hear that often. “You?” He’s asking me my name?

“Nice to meet you, Logan.” You stuck your hand out, smiling as you introduced yourself, Logan’s fingers sliding against yours and then against your palm before he shook it, grip firm. “Glad I could help you out.” He pulled his hand away first, but you felt one of his fingers curl slightly, the tip of his nail dragging slowly across your skin as he did so. Wh…

“And you.” Logan’s gaze moved away from you and toward the front of the store before his eyes drifted back to your face. “Guess I gotta go and replace that ice cream. Got any flavor suggestions for me?” Without a pause, you stared right back into Logan’s eyes and replied - straight faced.

“Cookie dough?” That time, neither of you could hold back your laughter, but after a few seconds, you took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts. “I’ve gotta go, Logan. I’m meeting a friend for her birthday tonight, and I want to get home before it gets too late. I hope your housekeeper’s son is doing alright, and I’m sure he’ll love the card… and the ice cream.”

“Yeah.” Logan chewed on the corner of his lip for a second and the nodded twice. “I bet he will.” He will. Definitely.

Without saying anything else, you turned back to your cart, fingers winding around the handlebar as you began to push it. Well that was a nice distraction. As you passed the end of the aisle, your eyes went wide. Shit, I still need… After a few more minutes of navigating your way through the other people in the store, you headed back toward the cashiers, staring at the contents of your cart and frowning. Hope I didn’t forget anything.

Joining a line of people waiting to check out, your eyes strayed to the rack of magazines near the register, both of them widening as you saw one of the covers. Is that… “Don’t believe everything you read.” Spinning toward the voice, you saw Logan standing behind you, both of his hands on his cart. “Those magazines are mostly bullshit.”

“Are you telling me that…” You paused, head tilted to the side. “You’re Logan Delos? VP of Delos Inc., and engaged to the -”

“That’s me.” He glanced at the magazine. Of course he’s engaged, why wouldn’t he be? “D’you think that’s a good picture of me?” Chuckling you clicked your tongue, still watching him.

“Your hair looks better in person.” You let out a breath, lowering your head. “I had no idea, Logan, that you were … of course you got the ice cream before the end of your shopping trip, you’re probably not used to…”

“Hey, I’m not helpless, here, I just … I work a lot, and …” Yeah, you work a ton, and … Your thoughts were reeling at the realization that the handsome man you’d helped pick out a card - the one that you’d joked with without thought - was Logan Delos, one of the world’s wealthiest and most eligible bachelors. But he’s not eligible anymore, not since… “Can you believe that I’m on the cover of that goddamn magazine? Just becausea…”

“When you’re engaged to the daughter of the UK’s …” You trailed off. “She’s big news, Logan. And so are you.” Of course he is. “At least now I know why you look familiar.” He winced at that, looking away. No, I didn’t … “I’ve seen you before, Logan. You - and Delos - do a bunch of charity and medical work, right? I’ve seen you on the news, on CNN, I just didn’t…” Tell him the truth. “Didn’t expect to run into you in the middle of the Thousand Oaks Whole Foods on a Wednesday.”

“You saw me on CNN?” Yeah, where else would I… “Well that’s a change.” He gestured forward. “You’re next.” Flustered, you began unloading your items onto the belt, trying to collect your thoughts. Logan Delos? And I … The cashier began scanning your groceries, and you smiled at her, moving your cart to the end of the lane and stepping in front of the credit card machine, digging through your purse. “Don’t worry about it.” Confused, you glanced back at Logan. “I got your stuff. Call it … a thank you for helpin’ me back there.”

“Logan, I can’t -” He shook his head, fighting back a grin. “You don’t need to…”

“I want to.” He shrugged, wrinkling his nose. “Like I said, I probably woulda still been’ standing there.” You let your wallet drop back to the bottom of your purse, finally nodding.

“I appreciate it, Logan.” And now I get to tell Jess that I … “Thank you.” He signaled to the cashier, who nodded once, going back to your items. “I’d, uh, say that maybe I’ll see you here again, but…” You lifted an eyebrow, watching him closely. “I’m sure I won’t, since this is a special circumstance.” He laughed at that, too, agreeing with you, and you were struck by how warm the sound was, the way his eyes lit up each time it happened. “Good luck, Logan.”

Your bags loaded back into your cart, you moved all the way to the end of the lane while Logan finished putting his own items - including the melted ice cream carton - onto the belt. “Yeah, I’ll need it.” Leaning over to reach one of the final things he’d chosen, he lifted his gaze, looking up at you through his lashes, one lock of hair barely out of place and falling at a different angle than the rest. Damn, he’s good looking. “Thank you.” You had a feeling that Logan’s sincere thank-yous were few and far between, and he’d said it to you multiple times in the span of a few minutes. At least I did something right.

“Of course.” You have to go, you’re taking up time and space here, and this isn’t… going anywhere. “Goodnight, Logan.” Offering him one final smile, you began pushing your cart toward the exit, still collecting your thoughts. What are the odds…

---

“Hey, Jess?” you were stretched out on your friend’s bed, socked feet resting on the wall above her pillows. “You know Logan Delos, right?” You were scrolling through your phone while your friend got dressed. “The -”

“The tech guy?” She yelled back to you, poking her head out of the bathroom door a few seconds later. “The hot one with the -”

“Yeah.” You read the page you were on, chewing on your lower lip. “I met him today.” He’s only been engaged for a few months, but they’ve … “I -”

‘“Where?” She was back in the room, hands up and next to one ear as she fastened an earring. “Today?” You turned your head toward her, nodding.

“Yeah, I had to stop and get your card, and when I was in Whole Foods, he was blocking the card aisle, so I gave him a hard time.” You darkened your screen as you spoke, sitting up and folding your legs beneath you. “Didn’t realize it was him at first, because I wasn’t expecting him, but I helped him pick out a card for his housekeeper’s kid, and then we ended up in the same checkout lane, and …”

“Wait a second.” She sat down on the edge of her bed, tilting her head to the side. “What was he doing all the way out here? I thought he lived in LA, that’s where he’s always going in and out of that -”

“You know more about him than I do, Jess. But I’m guessing he was on his way home from work or something, or he stopped on his way to the housekeeper’s, but…” Because I looked, and there’s a Delos office over this way, but … “He was alone, and even though he had a dress shirt on, he looked like he was trying to … I don’t know, blend in, and -”

“You don’t look like that and blend in.” She turned her own phone toward you,an image of Logan on the screen, dressed in a full suit and standing next to a stunning redhead in a tight black dress. “I mean look at him. Look at them, they’re going to have great looking kids, and ..” I’m sure they are. “But you met him? What was he like?” He was … really nice. But you waited a few seconds, thinking, and then replied.

“Normal. At least he seemed like it. Seemed kind of overwhelmed, like he hasn’t seen the inside of a grocery store in …” You frowned. “But super nice. I made him laugh.” Jess raised an eyebrow, waiting. “I didn’t realize it was him, so I just… I was joking with him, and being myself, and …”

“I don’t know that I would have been able to say anything to him.” She was staring at her phone again, eyes wide. “Do you realize how …” She showed you another picture of Logan, courtside at a Lakers game, dressed casually - dark t-shirt and jeans, worn boots on his feet. “He’s an actual celebrity, and you just …”

“He paid for my groceries, too.” You shrugged. “As a thank you, because I helped him pick out a card, and reminded him that ice cream does in fact melt outside of the freezer.” Jess laughed at that. “But yeah, that’s my brush with a famous person. Guess you don’t need to go to The Grove to see ‘em, they’re right in the greeting card aisle when you least expect them.” She snorted, eyes still on her phone. You thought of Logan, telling you not to believe what the magazines said about him, that most of it was bullshit. But what did he mean?

You didn’t have time to dwell on it, because there was a knock on Jess’ front door, and the woman jumped up to answer, leaving you sitting up on the mattress, phone in hand. “That’s Max, he’s taking me to dinner!” I guess I’m leaving, then… You stood too, tucking your phone into your back pocket, and followed the woman into the living room, where you found her in her boyfriend’s arms, the man’s lips pressed to the top of her head.

“Get a room, you two.” Jess laughed, pulling away from the man, and you reached for your purse, slinging it over your shoulder. “I’m going to go, I just wanted to drop off your card and say happy birthday.” She turned away from Max, holding her arms out and you stepped into them, hugging the woman tightly. “Call me this weekend, if you’re off, and we can go get a drink or something?” I’m sure I’ll need it, the rest of the week’s going to be …

“Yeah, maybe your luck will carry over, and we’ll run into someone else famous.” Jess wrinkled her nose and you rolled your eyes. “Max, she met Logan Delos today at the grocery store, and -”

“Was his fiancée there?” His tone interested - though you could tell he was joking - the man widened his eyes. “That red hair is -”

“Max!” Jess turned away and playfully smacked his chest, his hand rising to catch her wrist and tug her toward him. “I’m right here, and it’s my birthday.” He ducked his head and kissed the woman quickly.

“I’m just kidding, she seems really high maintenance, even if she looks alright.” She looks more than alright, but I agree, she seems like she… From what you knew of the woman - seeing her through the years on gossip websites and MTV, along with magazine covers, you agreed with Max. I definitely know more about her personal life than her career.

You left a few minutes later, smiling as you walked to your car and began driving home. It was a long drive - nearly a half hour from Agoura Hills to Burbank, where your studio apartment was, and you spent it listening to a playlist you’d created weeks earlier, the scenery flying by. Logan slipped from your mind almost entirely by the time you parked on the street in front of your place, but after you’d showered and changed, planting yourself on the couch with dinner, you were thinking about him again. Don’t be stupid. Stabbing your fork into a piece of chicken in your salad, you frowned, narrowing your eyes. You met him for five minutes, it wasn’t a big deal.

Continuing to eat, you flipped through channels, zoning out. It wasn’t difficult to let your mind wander; you’d been busy at work, putting in longer hours than usual, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel there - at least in terms of working over. For a month or two, anyway. Then it’s going to pick up again.

Working in the admissions office for Woodbury University wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was steady work - and it paid decently, since you’d been there for a few years. Paired with the tutoring sessions you did weekly, you made a decent living, and could have afforded more than the studio apartment you rented, but you didn’t see the point. It’s just me. And I’m never home, anyway. Keeping the small apartment allowed you to save money, paying off your other debts at the same time, and you were perfectly content with it. For now. It’s nowhere near as exciting as what Logan does … or what Ariella does. Unwittingly, your thoughts went back to the man you’d met a few hours prior, the easy smile he’d given you, the laugh that had erupted from his lips when you’d joked with him. You’d never know he’s a … You frowned. Millionaire? Multimillionaire? Rubbing at your eyes, you stood, putting your dishes in the sink and returning to the couch.

But we can’t all be tech geniuses or born British celebrities, I guess.

---

Logan tossed back the remainder of his drink, eyes scanning the horizon. From 73 stories above the city of Los Angeles, it felt like he could see forever, even though the slightly smoggy air made it more difficult. Though he was in one of the private cabanas, the curtains were open, giving him a view of the rest of the bar - and everyone there. Typical Saturday. He nodded once at the smiling brunette that brought him another drink, thanking her, but as soon as she’d turned away from him, she slipped from his mind, Logan focused only on the cool glass he held between his fingers, the condensation dampening the pads of them along with his palm. Reminds me of the Mesa. He lifted the drink to his lips, ice clinking against his teeth. More fun there, though.

While Logan didn’t get out to the parks as much as he had previously, visits to the Mesa were still high on his list of enjoyable activities, the hours he spent in the mountainside facility almost as memorable as the time in the parks. But that’s just because I don’t have to pretend. He gave a young man a smile as he walked past, and Logan knew without a doubt that if he’d beckoned him with one finger, the man would have stopped in his tracks, the two of them disappearing back into the hotel where Logan had a room on standby only to emerge the following morning. And she wouldn’t care, but I don’t… He frowned, taking another drink.

His fiancée was thousands of miles away, likely sleeping, and Logan was alone. Like always. He closed his eyes. Wonder whose bed she’s in tonight. The engagement - and subsequent wedding and marriage were nothing more than a smokeshow; carefully orchestrated by his own father and Ariella’s, meaning that there were very few rules he had to follow. Until the ceremony. He’d met the woman a few years prior, traveling to London to meet with a representative for her father’s business - which turned out to be the woman herself. They’d hit it off, finding each other attractive - moreso after a few drinks and some additional stimulation, hand delivered in the form of fine, white powder by one of the woman’s friends. Logan woke up the next morning, one arm around the redhead, and the other around her friend, none of them wearing any clothes.

That night was … probably a mistake. He frowned, taking another drink as his eyes scanned the bar patrons, all of them engrossed entirely in what they were doing and who they were with. I’m usually not by myself here, this is …

The initial deal done and the Delos empire continuing to expand, Logan and Ariella kept in touch, meeting when they were both on the same continent, but Logan had tired of the “extras” quickly, the drugs and the sex boring him, while she only seemed to need them more, embracing the lifestyle that she’d grown accustomed to being the youngest child of a wealthy former actress and businessman. She’s never earned her position with that company, and I … Logan sneered as he took another drink, setting the glass down and cracking his neck. I fought for it all.

The trip to the park with William prior to the first meeting with Ariella had done a number on him - Logan returning to the United States a mess, no one believing anything had happened to him - except for Juliet, and even that had taken time. She’d still married William, still got pregnant only a few months later, but it hadn’t taken the man long to show his true colors, and when confronted by both the Delos siblings, William had folded quickly, agreeing to a divorce with no spousal support, no visitation with his daughter, and no continued association with Delos - or any competitors. That was a win.

Logan finally smiled, thinking of the last time he’d seen the man, Logan unable to contain his anger as he’d drawn his arm back, punching William square in the mouth without saying a word. There’s never been anything more satisfying. He’d been involved with Ariella then - and despite Juliet’s belief in him, Logan was still using occasionally, forgetting everything that bothered him for a night or two a week via some substance, somewhere. It got bad, before that, but after I hit him? After he was gone, and lost everything? It felt better.

He still drank, still occasionally accepted party drugs when they were offered to him, but he didn’t depend on them to get through days, as he had while recovering after being released from the hospital. He didn’t crave the feeling of forgetting his life and the pain he’d endured in the desert, didn’t need the high that came with lowering his nose to the tabletop and inhaling, or putting the sharp end of a syringe against the crook of his elbow. Instead he wanted something more - something that he was beginning to understand that he’d ever have with his intended wife.

Logan was surrounded with people nearly all of the time, but despite this, he didn’t feel connected to any of them, except for Juliet. And even that’s not … it could be… He lowered his head, thinking. Could be more. Should be more. He’d never willingly admit it to anyone, but the thing Logan craved more than anything - money, drugs, sex, opulence - was a genuine interest from someone else that he could return. Anyone found that out, and it’d ruin my reputation. He grinned, deciding that it was time to go; he’d only stopped in to make sure that things were running as they needed to, needing to report back to his father that everything looked good - and everything ran as it was supposed to, the redesign on schedule and as discussed.

He stood, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a bill to leave on the table, though he always drank for free anywhere in the building. Should I stay here tonight, or go back to my place? He tucked his wallet back into his pocket and unbuttoned another of his shirt’s buttons, looking around. Is it worth it to look for … Nah. He rubbed at his beard, looking around again, eyes moving over the well-dressed men and women sitting and standing throughout the open space.

The arrangement that he and Ariella had was that before the wedding, anything was game - for both of them - as long as they could keep it out of the papers. Being discreet was key, and though it was simpler for Logan to blend in places, finding willing partners for a few hours or a full night, he didn’t participate as often as he’d assumed he would when they were ironing out the details. It’s just asking for trouble. And I … Ariella reminded him often that the relationship was only a business deal, that there weren’t any real feelings involved, and that as long as they followed the rules set forth by the terms of the agreement, they could get back to their lives within a few short years, each hopefully a few million dollars wealthier. But that …

It hadn’t mattered to the woman that Logan never lied - his honesty wasn’t an important factor to her, and in her mind, the relationship itself wasn’t a lie - they were going to get married, they were going to act as though they were truly a couple, and they were both going to benefit from it - along with both companies, too. They need us more than we need them. He began walking toward the exit, sidestepping people every few feet. We could more than get by without the hotels, but they … they need the resorts, and the Mesa, they need the… He paused as he caught sight of someone sitting near one of the large panes of plexiglass against the outside wall of the bar, his eyes widening. What are the odds?

He took one step forward, tilting his head to the side, and tried to decide whether or not he was going to continue approaching, or simply walk by and through the doors, heading to the elevator. There are millions of people in this city. And I’m 45 minutes away from where I … Logan poked his tongue into his cheek, narrowing his eyes briefly. Fuck it. He quickly stepped toward the table, clearing his throat, eyes moving over the woman’s face, assessing it even though it looked entirely different beneath the low lighting and against the black sky behind her than the first time he’d seen it . “You were right.” He paused as the woman - and her friend - stopped their conversation, both turning their heads to look at him. “The card? The ice cream? He loved ‘em.”

---

Logan? You were shocked to see the man again standing in front of you, this time dressed more casually than he had been in the store. You took a moment to answer, eyeing him and noting his appearance; less product in his hair, shirt buttons undone enough to expose an inverted V of pale skin at the base of his throat and the top of his chest, no jacket in sight. Say something. “Did he laugh a the card?” You wrinkled your nose, grinning. “Did he get it?” The man nodded, stepping closer to your table as someone pushed past behind him, and you quickly moved your glass away from the edge of it, giving him space to rest his hands if he needed to. He’s not staying, he’s going to …

“Are you going to introduce me?” Jess’ voice interrupted your thoughts, and you waited until Logan’s eyes moved from you and to her to blink, letting out a breath that you were almost positive he noticed you release. “I -”

“Logan. Logan Delos.” He held out his hand to your friend, the woman taking it eagerly, unable to hide her smile “And you are?”

“I’m Jess.” She bit her lip. “We’re out for my birthday.” Logan glanced back at you, but then focused entirely on the other woman, leaning in closer.

“Well, then, Jess,” he wet his lips, the action not going unnoticed by either of you. “Happy birthday.” He raised one eyebrow, the smile on his face growing. “Would it be alright if I bought you a drink?” What is he…? Logan turned back toward you, expression changing as he gave you the same smile that he’d given you in the store. It’s not as bright as … not as fake. “Both of you? If that’s alright, of course. I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

“We just got a new round, Logan.” You spoke quickly, eyes flicking to Jess, who was watching you in shock, confusion in her eyes. “I -” His eyes flashed, but his smile didn’t falter, the man lifting one hand to run his fingers through his hair. He already bought my groceries, he can’t…

“Sure.” Logan blinked. “I get it.” No, that’s not… “Let me at least tell the bartender that I’ll cover your -”

“Oh, come on.” Jess spoke again, leaning across the table toward you. “Let the man buy you a drink, it’s not like he’s asking you to jump in bed with him.” Your jaw dropped at her words, but she didn’t give you a chance to reply. What is she … that isn’t … he’s engaged. “I’ll take you up on that, Logan, and thank you for it, even if she doesn’t -”

“I really don’t want to interrupt.” He straightened up, eyes back on you. “I just thought that I’d offer, since … well, the chances we’d run into each other for the second time in a week are …” Nonexistent? “I …” He looked out of his element - only slightly - but you watched him collect himself, the easygoing smile disappearing, replaced with one that was just a little too formal. I offended him. I was just trying to …

“Logan.” You closed your eyes and reached out without thinking, your fingertips finding the rolled cuff of his sleeve, situated slightly higher than the middle of his forearm. “I’d love to have a drink with you. We’d love to have a drink with you. Thank you.” I just don’t want him to think that … The man visibly relaxed, and you wondered how often - if ever - people told him no, and if he reacted the way he’d reacted to you each time. You took a deep breath as Jess cheered quietly, not looking away from the man. “Here, let me change seats, that way you don’t have to -”

But Logan was already moving, stepping around the back of your chair, the pressure of his hand against the backrest pushing you forward slightly as he edged between you and the chair behind yours, going for the vacant seat between you and Jess. “Nah, it’s fine. This way I can still see the bar, an’ the waitresses can see me.” He didn’t say it smugly, but you realized as he spoke that Logan knew that the staff was looking for him, wanting to ensure that he always had a drink and was never waiting. It must be … He settled into the chair, back to the city, and instead of leaning back, Logan leaned in, taking a deep breath. “Watch.” He settled one elbow on the table and then lifted two fingers, one eyebrow raised, and before you had a chance to get a good look at the onyx ring he wore on his little finger, a waitress was tableside, asking him what he wanted. Jesus. That didn’t even… “It’s her birthday,” he spoke quickly, thumbing in Jess’ direction. “So whatever she wants.” With a nod, the woman looked at your friend, waiting. “I’ll…” Jess put a finger against her lips in thought. “I’ll take one of the Orion’s Polomas.” Tequila, Jess? Is that a… But the waitress was already tapping onto a small tablet, her eyes moving to you next, waiting. I have to order something, I feel like he’ll be offended if I don’t, and that isn’t … You glanced down at the menu, eyes scanning it.

“The Supermoon sounds good.” You glanced up at Logan, noting that he was watching you, dark eyes focused on your face. That’s kind of unsettling, but … “Can I get one of those, please?” The waitress nodded, and before you could thank her, Logan interrupted.

“I’ll take one of the Supermoons, too. You might as well make it a pitcher.” A pitcher? That’s too many… But the woman typed that in, too, and then turned to walk away from the table, short skirt showing off her long legs in the low light. Logan didn’t wait for her to get too far away before he shifted in his seat, saying Jess’ name. She leaned in, still smiling at him, but you saw that the expression was much more relaxed than it had been. She’s still kind of starstruck, but… she’s better now. “What else are you doin’ for your birthday?” Logan��s eyes flicked to you and then back to your friend. “She said she was buyin’ you a card the other night, and then coming over, but -”

“I went out to dinner with my boyfriend Wednesday, and I’m seeing my family next week, but …” She kept talking and you zoned out, looking over Logan’s shoulder and out at the horizon, the twinkling lights of LA partially distracting you. Absently, you listened to the two of them talk, waiting for your drinks, though you also kept an eye on his face and the way his low, smooth voice carried to your ears. Of all the people to see twice in a week, of course it’s him, and… While you watched him out of the corner of your eye, you tried not to stare at the way his cheek twitched every time Logan gave Jess a smile, or the way his eyes focused entirely on whoever he was talking to, only briefly moving at the approach of someone new. The waitress must … You watched Logan’s eyes follow the movement, though he kept speaking with your friend, and you turned toward the woman as she approached the table, a tray with three glasses and a pitcher balanced on it.

Smoothly, she set each item down, eyes lingering on Logan as the pitcher slid across the table’s surface, his hand reaching out, long fingers closing around the handle to lift and pour it. “Thanks, darlin’” You couldn’t help it and sucked in a breath as the word left his lips, your fingers flexing against the tabletop. I wasn’t expecting … But if anyone else heard - or saw it happen - they didn’t say anything, Logan looking up from the ice cube filled glassware and back at the woman. “And is the kitchen still open? I just realized I haven’t eaten tonight, and …”

“Of course, Mr. Delos. The kitchen’s always open for you.” She nearly purred the words, pushing her already full lips out as she finished speaking. “What can I get you? Would you like -”

He didn’t even pause before he answered, eyes on what he was doing as the liquid transferred from the pitcher to the glass, condensation already dripping down the surface of both. “Prawns and potstickers. The prosciutto?” He finally looked up, eyeing Jess first and then you, head tilted to the side. “That alright? Will you eat -”

“Yes.” You answered him and then looked at the waitress, smiling. “Sounds perfect.” How’d this go from one drink to food and a pitcher? But you didn’t ask out loud, instead extending your hand toward the man as he slid your glass toward you before filling the other for himself, lifting it and gesturing toward Jess in a toast. This isn’t what I would have expected from someone like Logan. But as the first taste of the drink hit your lips, strong but not overwhelmingly fruity, you realized that you didn’t know what you’d expected from Logan. I didn’t expect anything, did I?

---

I didn’t mean for this to… He took another drink from his glass, looking over the table between you and your friend, the second woman swaying slightly in her seat. I shouldn’t have. Logan was sober - he’d only sipped at the drinks he’d poured for himself after the second, letting the ice melt into them over time, and while your friend had continued to drink, you’d slowed yourself down, too. She’s bein’ smart about it. You were watching Jess somewhat warily, and though you didn’t say anything to the woman, he knew that you were mentally preparing to get her home, making sure that she was alright. People did that for me, too. But not enough of ‘em, they were too…

You’d eaten when the food came, thanking him again, and though the three of you had talked throughout the time you’d been sitting at the table, Logan was frustrated. This is bullshit. He raised his glass to his lips, taking a long drink, and though he could still taste the mint and lime, it was masked by the melted ice, the small, remaining cubes knocking into his teeth. But what is bullshit, exactly? Logan heard you speak, his attention focused back on you, watching as you reached a hand out to touch your friend’s arm. “Jess, we should probably think about calling a car, it’s a while back to my place, and -”

“It’s still early!” She wasn’t quite slurring her words, but Logan saw the expression on her face and the look in her eyes, recognizing it from his own experiences. You’re right, she needs to… Logan again raised two fingers without speaking, and within seconds, the same waitress was back at the table, lips pushed together and eyeing Logan with a look that he knew all too well. Do I know her? I feel like I … He furrowed his brow for a few seconds and then sighed. “Can we get another pitcher, but of water this time?” Both of you stopped talking, and Logan felt your eyes on him, though Jess let out a quiet whine. Yeah, I get it, but… “And the check, whenever …”

“I’ll bring that water right out, Mr. Delos, but you know that you -” She shifted her shoulders, pushing them back. “You know that it’s always -”

“Not this time.” He used one finger to indicate the table. “Everything from before I sat here, too.” Her eyes widened, but she nodded, the smile never leaving her lips as she turned. I think I probably … “And before you argue with me,” he said, turning in his chair to face you. “I got it.” You mouthed the words “thank you” and then turned back to your friend, who was still complaining quietly, though there was nothing behind her words. As the waitress brought everything back to the table, handing the sleeve with the bill in it straight to Logan and setting a new pitcher and glasses down before she began clearing the others, Logan heard a phone ring and watched Jess fumble in her purse, pulling the device out as she stood.

“Max?” The woman swayed slightly on her feet and then collected herself, holding the phone to her ear. “You’re never going to believe…” She pointed with one finger and you sighed, nodding as she began to walk toward an open seating area that was less busy than where you were, though it wasn’t out of eyesight. She’s a good friend. Logan opened his wallet and put a few bills into the sleeve, closing it and setting it at the edge of the table. Not at all what I thought tonight was going to be.

“The one night I’m not happy that I don’t live close by.” You groaned, putting your head down on your bare arms, which were folded on the tabletop. What? “I live in Burbank, and it’s only about twenty minutes, but she’s gonna…” You peeked up, wrinkling your nose. “She gets…”

“Carsick?” He leaned back, elbow resting on one corner of the back of his chair. “She was drinkin’ tequila.” You straightened up, laughing, and Logan stared at you while your eyes were closed, feeling himself smile. It’s different when it’s just the two of us, it… “How you gettin’ back?” He paused, thinking. “I can get you guys a -”

“Logan, no.” You stopped laughing, pushing the strap of your dress back up and over your shoulder from where it had slipped down. “You’ve already done more than enough, she’s going to tell everyone for the next year that Logan Delos bought her birthday drinks, and …” You rolled your eyes. “If she pukes in the Uber, she pukes in the Uber, and I’ll just make her pay me back.” She’s a really good friend.

“You know, I have a…” He spoke without thinking, the idea occurring to him suddenly. “I’ve got a room here. I’m not stayin’ in it or anything, but since this is one of the Delos Destinations property partners, I can get a room whenever I…” You opened your mouth to turn him down, but Logan didn’t let you. “I’ll walk you down, give you the key, an’ that’s it. You won’t have to worry about anything when you leave tomorrow mornin’, and you guys can take a car home without worrying about -”

“Logan, that’s unnecessary. You don’t even…” You weren’t looking at him the whole time you spoke, your eyes flitting through the crowd until you found Jess, the woman sitting on one of the green benches, legs crossed at the knee as she talked on the phone. “You don’t even know us, and you’re offering …”

“I know what it’s like to have too much to drink an’ then haveta try to get home.” He scrubbed a hand over his beard. “Trust me, it’s not a big deal. And since I’m the one that bought you all this alcohol, I feel responsible.” Where the fuck is this coming from? “I’m offering.” She’s gonna say no.

“Logan, I…” But he heard you swear under your breath, standing and leaving the table, moving in the direction that Jess had walked off in. Wh- But he followed you with his eyes, watching as you hurried over to the woman, one arm looping around beneath her arms as hers went around your shoulders. He stood, hand moving through his hair and walking over to you. “I’ve got her.” But Logan met your eyes again, watching as you closed them, giving him a nod. “We’ll stay, if it’s…”

“Yeah. C’mon.” He led the two of you through the crowd, and despite the fact that Jess was unsteady on her feet, there were no issues, Logan swiped his keycard at the elevator and urged the two of you in with him before the doors closed, the woman slumping against you once inside. “Hey, let me help you.” He could tell you wanted to turn him down, but you nodded again, and Logan’s arm replaced yours around the woman’s, his hand making contact with yours briefly as you switched places. Jess leaned against him, Logan holding her tightly, and by the time the doors slid open again, Logan had handed you the key, pointing you in the direction of the room. “They switch me out between the suites on this floor, an’ they told me which one was ready for me tonight when I got here.” It’s excessive, but …

The three of you stopped in front of the door to the Presidential Suite, and when Logan heard the quiet hum of the lock, you pushed the door open and stepped in before him, one hand reaching out to flip the light on. He’d followed countless women into hotel rooms in his life, had led even more into them, but when you glanced back over your shoulder to make sure he was following with your friend, Logan felt only confusion. I know nothing’s going to … but this … “I think I’ve got her from here, Logan.” You spoke as he helped the woman through the living area, bypassing the couch and heading straight for the door to the bedroom on the right. “I don’t -”

“It’s just a little further, it’s fine.” Jess squealed when she saw the bed, perking up and stopping in her tracks, kicking both shoes off. Yeah, they’re pretty comfortable, I don’t mind sleepin’ in them either, Jess.

“We’re staying here?” She pulled out of his hold, turning back to face Logan, a wide smile on her face. “I didn’t -” But he watched as the look in her eyes changed, one hand rising to cover her mouth, and without pause you again darted toward her, bumping into Logan as you rushed past him, pulling the woman toward the bathroom with another whispered apology under your breath. The door closed behind you, and only a few seconds later, he heard the sound of Jess coughing and water running. She was right. On autopilot, Logan turned toward the closet, pulling the hanger with the robe on it off the rack and heading toward the bathroom door.

He knocked twice. “There’s a robe out here if she needs somethin’ else to wear. I’ll leave it hanging on this chair.” He heard you reply with a thanks, and then Logan turned and left the room, walking into the open space of the living room after pulling the bedroom doors closed behind him. Rather than sitting on the couch, he stepped through the room, switching the lamps on. I should leave. I got ‘em here, I should go down to the lobby an’ call a car back to my place, and … But he didn’t, instead staring out and over the city, one hand in his pocket, the rectangular shape of his phone beneath his palm.

He hadn’t heard from Ariella in two days, and though it was barely midnight in Los Angeles, it was morning in London, meaning that there was a possibility that she was awake. He pulled the device out, opening their messages, but when he saw that the last one he’d sent earlier that afternoon still hadn’t been opened, he darkened the screen, putting it back into his pocket. Of course. Their arrangement wasn’t ideal by a long shot, but Logan had endured much worse in his lifetime, and for the sake of Delos - and keeping his word - would honor the deal he’d made. Even though it’s bullshit. He sighed, rolling his neck from side to side, watching as the lights twinkled in the distance.

“I’ve never seen LA from this high up.” He turned from the window, seeing that you were standing in the doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. “I mean, from a plane, yeah, but … We went to Spire tonight because Jess told me that it’s one of her favorites, but I’ve never…” You stepped forward, head shaking back and forth. “And this room?” You threw your hands up, rolling your eyes. “It’s three times the size of my apartment. And there’s a fucking piano?” Well, yeah, there... “Logan, this is…” You were only a few feet from him, standing in front of the window next to the one he was at, eyes out on the cityscape as you trailed off.

“Jess alright?” He ignored what you’d been saying, trying to get you to think about something else. “I’ve been there myself, but it wasn’t alcohol, it…” He bit down on his lip. Shit, she might not have … “I’m sure you’ve seen the -”

“You told me not to believe everything I read, Logan.” He looked over, surprised to see that you were smiling at him. I did say that. “But yeah, she’s fine. I made her drink one of those big glasses of water, and I’m pretty sure that aside from that and the ibuprofen I had her take, there’s nothing left in her stomach, so…” You sighed. “If she gets sick in the bed, I’ll pay for the damages, or -” He turned and reached for you before he could stop himself, his fingers closing around your bicep and squeezing gently.

“No, you won’t.” He immediately let go of you, dropping his hand back to his side. “Believe me, even if she does get sick? It’s nothin’ they haven’t seen before.” You let out a breath, head tilted down and eyes focused on where he’d touched you. I shouldn’t have done that. “She really wouldn’t have made it home in a car, though, and at least now you don’t have to worry about -”

“Logan.” You were biting your lip, and he watched as your head rose, a pained expression on your face. “Why are you doing this? You don’t know me - or us, and this is a totally unnecessary gesture. You’re engaged. And you’re not exactly the type -”

“So you did look me up.” He felt disappointment flowing through him, fighting the urge to raise his hands and rub at his eyes. I thought this was… You stepped backwards, hands reaching out until you found the back of the couch, and Logan watched you perch atop it, the pillows moving as you sat. Leave. Leave it at this. Tell her again that all they have to do is wake up and go tomorrow, and then go home.

You swallowed, eyes still on him. “I did, Logan. I knew who you were, like I said the other day, but I guess I …” He watched your grip tighten on the couch, head dropping forward. “I wanted to know more about you, after meeting you?” That’s normal, why are you … “It’s stupid, but … and now we’re here, and I don’t know -” He said your name, cutting you off, and when you finally looked back at him, Logan took a breath.

“I meant what I said when I told you that you couldn’t believe everything that those goddamn gossip sites say, or what’s in the magazines.” He felt his lip curl. “That’s not what I wanted for myself, but I had a couplea rough years, and it’s… it is what it is now. I can only keep so much of it out of the press, but I’m not …” He thought back to the headlines from his benders, the way they’d all speculated that he’d be dead by 30, that his father would remove him from the company, that he’d ruined himself with his habits. But I didn’t. I fucking gave everything… “All that shit? That isn’t really…”

“It’s fine, Logan, you don’t need to -”

“Look, I can leave right now. You guys are safe here, and you can spend the night - order room service tomorrow morning before you leave. I don’t give a shit, it’s all on my account and it’ll be written off.” Raking a hand through his hair, Logan scratched the back of his head. “I’m doin’ this because despite what people might say about me? What they think is true because they see one sidea me and don’t bother lookin’ for more? I’m not just Logan Delos.” Where is this coming from? She doesn’t care, shut up, Logan. “I’m sorry your night ended this way, an’ I’m sorry that your friend’s not feeling that great, but I -”

“Do you want to leave?” Your interruption surprised him, Logan stopping mid sentence. “It seemed like there was another option, but I don’t -” I … He blinked rapidly, eyes on you. I should leave. “Logan?” He pulled his phone out again, checking the time, and seeing that there were still no missed calls or replies from Ariella.

“I can leave right now,” he repeated, setting the phone down on the tabletop after locking it. “And that’s it, just … goodbye, and thanks for havin’ a couple drinks with me so that I didn’t look like an asshole drinking alone at that bar.” Or … He didn’t know why he had anxiety about the next suggestion he wanted to make - he had no reason to. “Or, we could grab a couple beers from the mini fridge and sit out here on the couches for a little while.” Your eyes moved to the kitchen area and then back to Logan, though you stayed quiet. “It’s up to you.” He saw the apprehension in your eyes and took another deep breath, closing his eyes and nodding his head at you. “Look, I’m not propositioning you. I’m not tryin’ to get you into bed, or anything like that, but you don’t look tired, and I’m not in any hurry to get back to my place, so …”

He waited in silence, unsure of what else to say. The truth was, though, that Logan was curious about you. You’d said you lived in Burbank, but he’d met you for the first time in Thousand Oaks. You seemed slightly overwhelmed by the opulence of the hotel room and bar, and had known him from CNN instead of JustJared or Daily Mail. I want to know more about you, and I don’t … You were watching him intently, and Logan returned the look, letting his eyes roam over your face, though he hoped it wasn’t making you more uncomfortable than you already seemed to be. Finally, after a long pause, you stood, taking one step closer to him and reaching up with one hand to tuck hair behind your ear. “Alright, Logan. What kind of beer’s in that fridge?”

---

Tag lists are open!

General: @the-blind-assassin-12 @obscurilicious @sweetybuzz25 @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @gollyderek @poindexted @ificouldhelpyouforget @elanor-of-imladris @thesandbeneathmytoes @luminex3 @geeksareunique @weallhaveadestiny @mfackenthal @thesumofmychoices @yannii04 @beautiful-thinking @drinix @agentlingerie @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @dreams-with-thoughts @wangmangagavroche @traeumerinwitzhelden @jigsawlover10 @malionnes @addictedtofictionalcharacters @marauderskeeper @lovemarvelousfics @pheedraws @fairywriter-oracle @aroyaldarknessblr @bisexual-space-slut @fific7 @maralisa124 @commanderlola @eternitydarkling @beautifuldesastre @not-a-basic-bitchhh @blackbirddaredevil23

Logan Delos:@nananananananananananabatman @damalseer @chibiyanai @life-is-a-melody @songtoyou @samfindsout @tartiflvtte

Uncategorized: @ethereal-heavcns @editboutique @ilkaeliseb @delicatelilyflower @king4thesirens @ymariejp @mr-robot-x @rageshots @introvertedlibrary @writing-for-a-chance @yesixoxo @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals @swiftyhowlz @dylanobrusso @malik-payne @lynne1993 @ladyblablabla @audreychaz @tc-elliot @kind-wolf @honeyydippaa @binbonsadoration @jeanettexkillian @avengerswhore @elioelioeli0 @projectcampbell @giggleberts @elfmama @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

98 notes · View notes

rjhpandapaws · 3 years ago

Text

Music and Magic among Knights and Thieves

Chapter 2: Trained to Turn Against

Tw: passive suicide mention

Gavin had always wanted to be a knight, though not for the same reason as the other recruits. He had not interest in being in the back pocket of some dusty old family. He wanted to fight. Growing up he had always been told that the best way to prove your strength was to become a knight. Behind the scenes as he grew up the Knights of Nordia had gone from being a testament of strength and prowess to a collection of Noble lap dogs. By the end of their initial round of training it had been made abundantly clear that the only way to make rank was to gain Noble approval. Strength and valor no longer mattered. They were corruption dressed in plated silver armor, and Gavin wanted none of it. His second year of training he collected his things; the few personal items he had and his set of hand axes; and left. There was nothing for him here. He wasn’t going to play by the strings of corrupt Nobles. Of course after such an act of treason he couldn’t stay in Nordia without being hunted. There was a traveler’s town on the coast called Greenwick, if he made that his last known location the assumption would be that he left the continent. Nordia would be content with that and the search would be called off. He was only one knight after all, a full scale search would hardly be worth the effort.

It was in Greenwick that he heard rumors of the disappearance of the first heir to House Arkait. There one day, gone the next. The Arkait family was one of the oldest families in the Kingdom, not one of the original founders, but close. So the news sent the continent into a bit of a shock. Some of the rumors were that he had been killed, others claimed it was a suicide cover up, and there were a few that ventured it was a kidnapping. Gavin hadn’t had the displeasure of working with that particular house of Nobility but he knew they were one of powerful magic. His personal theory was that the little noble-ling had either runaway or gotten himself snatched. Either way, it wasn’t his problem. In his opinion, the fewer stuck up Nobles running around the better. He spent the winter in Greenwick, then come spring he and a guy named Connor caused a shitstorm then went their separate ways. The shapeshifter was headed for The Hero’s Valley, and Gavin followed the road that lead south to see where he wound up. The last he saw of his companion was paw prints in the snow. Gavin didn’t plan to stay in any one place for too long; his trade had become protecting those that could afford his company, and theft. If he became a familiar face in a town the more lucrative half of his trade would be in jeopardy, and he couldn’t have that.

It was four years on, he was in Raven’s Hollow, when he heard the first rumors that the second one had vanished. The official statement by the House was that he had died in the fire that had broken out in the owlery. Which would have been all well and good; but Gavin had a nice burn scar from sparring with him. Silas was a pyromancer, he might have started the fire in the owlery, but Gavin had his doubts about his dying in it. Something that was solidified when he met up with Daniel who was now travelling with a pyromancer after his time in Nordia. Daniel had asked him not to say anything about it, though he never actually introduced his companion. Gavin gave his word because there was honor among thieves after all. They parted ways a few weeks later. There were faint whispers of revolution coming from Nordia. House Arkait only had one heir left, and he was the most dangerous. Rune Magic they said; scrip and ancient magics were at his disposal. They could rise back up as the house of war they had once been. There was an unspoken tension in the air as the continent held its breath. They were on the knife’s edge of history being made and no one knew which way fate would fall.

Then, much like his brothers before him, the last heir disappeared. This time, Gavin was more inclined to believe the rumors of a kidnapping. This noble-ling was a valuable one. The last remaining chess piece of House Arkait was off the board. Fate had fallen in their favor. He was back in Greenwick, enough time had passed that had certainly been forgotten. Gavin had settled at the bar and was reveling in his victory. He had bested a city Knight in Pharaoh as well as a fight he had gained the man’s coin as well as his armor. A disguise of sorts. Drinks had been in order, and he might have had a few too many. His tongue got rather loose when he was drunk. “You see, I think the little Noble was kidnapped.” He remarked and his words caught on his teeth on their way out. “Coming from a family like that would fetch someone a pretty bit of gold. Not to mention, imagine even just being a part of the group that brought about the fall of House Arkait.” He wasn’t normally one to buy into rumors, but valuable spell books had gone missing along with the heir. Old magic. They could be ransomed for as much or even more than the noble-ling himself. Gavin found that a little suspicious. Noble houses normally kept things like that under lock and key.

Gavin liked this particular bar because the drinks were cheap and the performers in the area were usually trying to collect a bit more coin before they set off so they tended to perform very well. Tonight’s singer wasn’t a tavern performer, he was dressed too nicely. He also used magic, something done usually for playing in open courts or gardens. Assurance they would be heard without fade, echo, or distortion. This one put the sigil on his lute and his throat. It was something Gavin had never seen before. That wasn’t what pulled him in though. What grabbed him was the gentle croon of the voice and the haunted innocence of his songs. They were of adventure and travel, as many tended to be. The difference was the adventure came after breaking free of a golden prison. Learning the world in ways that most other people never had to. In a way that Gavin had never seen before, this bard held the attention of the tavern as a whole. Enough so that he was applauded into another set. Gavin had never been one to be particularly moved by music, but there was something about these songs that wouldn’t let him go. He wanted to know why. He knew it wasn’t magic, so there had to be something else to it.

When the bard had settled at the bar again Gavin flagged the bartender for two drinks and made his way over. He placed the drink on the bar beside him and it earned him a confused look. “Thank you?” It came across as more of a question than a statement, “Might I ask what this is for?” “Your performance mostly.” Gavin replied as he took the open seat beside him, “We don’t normally get musicians like you around these parts.” There was a split second when the bard almost looked afraid. He had a secret then, interesting. “Care to explain what you mean?” He asked once he had his composure about him again. “Magic users.” He said, “You lot normally tend to stick to the Nobles pretty closely, they pay better than taverns do. So I suppose I’m just curious as to what would bring you to a place like this.” He watched with interest as the bard relaxed. “I wanted to see more of the world.” There was a bit of wonder to his voice as he said that, but it turned more serious as he continued, “Playing for the same crowd every few weeks paid well, but by doing this I get to write my own songs.”

He was chasing the same thing as Gavin then. The freedom to just be. Unlike Gavin though, he also seemed to be running away from something. “There’s no one you have to worry about pissing off.” He remarked, “That has to be nice.” “It is.” Gavin agreed. He watched the bard pull some kind of magic before he tried the drink, “Could I ask your name?” “Most people just call me Reed.” He said, “Got something I can call you?” “Nines.” Was the quick response before he turned his head away to cough, “Forgive me. I sang more than normal this evening and my throat isn’t too happy with me about it.” Gavin couldn’t exactly relate to that, but he enjoyed talking with Nines. So he told a few stories, with the better details exaggerated of course. When Nines asked to use some of them for songs - until he’d had an adventure of his own - Gavin was over the moon and agreed. Only the greatest adventurers got their stories immortalized in such a way and Gavin was proud to make one of their rank. Even if his tales would be heard in small wayside taverns and on street corners.

It wasn’t until Nines excused himself citing the early hour, that Gavin realized just how much time had passed. He was exactly the most socially adept person; especially when compared to someone who had run in Noble circles, but talking with Nines came easy. He listened to Gavin with an intensity and awe to his eyes that just kept Gavin going. He was almost disappointed to be traveling in the morning when it seemed like Nines would be staying here a while longer, but he had lingered long enough. If Nines meant to travel they might cross paths again. In a way, he did come across Nines again. In the form of a ransom poster that he found on the outskirts of the capitol city. His mysterious bard had been none other than the last heir to House Arkait. One Richard Arkait, the last one of a lineage of lies. A runaway like his brothers before him. Gavin couldn’t help but wonder if the fact that he had run into two of them probably meant something. What he was sure of though, was that change was coming, and it was going to shake the Continent to its core. He didn’t know when; and just hoped to be far away when it did.

#Music and Magic among Knights and Thieves #MMTKAU #fantasy au #reed900 #dbh gavin #dbh nines #dbh fic #dbh #passive suicide mention tw

10 notes · View notes

redstainedsocks · 4 years ago

Text

Plant Day!

Whumpblr, forgive me for this... xD this is either the best or silliest idea I've ever had and honestly? I think it might be both at once. Heed the tags but also just know nothing is as serious as it seems by the time you reach the end...

for @brutal-nemesis' whump of the month prompt: plant day.

Thank you @muddy-swamp-bitch for helping me work out how to tag this thing

Warnings: cutting, knives, scarification, body horror (???), corpse mutilation [!?], environmental whump, [mass] killing (???), multiple whumpers (but not at the same time), survivors guilt, curses, magical whump, whumpee with she/her pronouns, captured whumpee. Mentions of: eye whump, bugs/insects, slavery whump

The knife wasn’t sharp enough, not for this. It was a hack job, and it wasn’t going to heal pretty. It carved into her slowly, inch by torturous inch, scraping away the surface of her skin. She screamed, but no one seemed to care, it wasn’t like they spoke the same language.

The two people leaning over, peering at her, paused in their work.

I hope crows peck out your eyes

They talked and brushed away the carnage their knife wrought, tittered, went back to their work.

I hope your children never know love, or freedom

It hurt, digging deep into the fibres of her skin. Changing the surface of it forever. It was going to scar, these strange, crude letters forever marring her perfect form.

It was no worse than anything else she had suffered but she resented it all the same.

May bear excrement ruin your water source and wasps sting you to death

Her cries went unheard. And curses didn’t mean a wad of shit if no one observed them. She liked that word shit, she’d learned it from the humans long ago. Shit shit shit, it was all shit.

Long ago, in the days before, she had watched her people be slaughtered. Hacked down one by one, cut to pieces and their bodies heaved off by horses. Horses bound to do the humans bidding, such a wretched life, she thought, but they seemed happy, they hadn’t come to her aid when she called.

She had mourned and grieved her fallen brethren, watched their lifeless forms be stacked and chained together to be burned or put to some other nefarious use, and only hoped that her own pain would end so swiftly. But it was not to be. She had been left to witness, the pain hers alone to bear.

Long, long years passed, held captive in this barren, dying place. The colonies that tried to take up life in her people’s old home were uprooted, shunned. Nothing and no one could prosper here.

She waited a long time; long after the woodcutter, and the woodcutter's son, and the woodcutter’s son’s son…. and, well, she lost track of the generations a bit after that but it had been a while.

The sun was older, the earth quieter. She was cold, her joints creaked and ached and everything was heavy. She had been abandoned by her own people and the humans who had caused their destruction. She alone, left to weather the harsh… weather. Lashed with rain and beaten by the hot sun, no friends left to help give shelter. No happy little breeze now, just the violent waves of wind, unhindered.

Her eyes were cast ever skyward, and it hurt to look at the sky, but it was better than the memories that clung to the earth. She would weep, but it only made her feel sticky and sickly.

One day a mere mortal, not more than three score years and probably not even that—she noted his features were smooth and bare, no whiskers on this one— wandered by. He was dressed strangely but everything they did was strange so she didn’t pay it much attention. He laid a hand on her and she tried to shake it loose.

Stupid humans, no touching, dirty hands, ruinous hands

“What was that?” He murmured.

She thought he was a he, he had that air about him. Entitled. An extra trunk between his legs too, if her eyes weren’t mistaken.

Go back to your cities, cretin

His hand slid around her, feeling for… something. It brushed over the scar of the initials carved into her, that claiming mark.

“Tsk, this won’t do.”

He brought out a knife. Of course he did. Just like all the rest.

He cut into her and she wailed, throwing herself around and trying to get away but it was no use. He just kept on cutting, and though his work seemed like it had a purpose she couldn’t tell what it was. Her life force oozed out around the hole he was making as he cut chunks, stole away parts of her, until a hollow hole was left where part of her should be.

It felt… if not better, certainly different. They were good at change, these humans. She looked skyward again, only feeling a little better when she noticed the scarring marks were gone. He’d cut it away?

Well, more power to him, if he wanted a piece of ruined flesh so be it. She thought no more of it until he came back three moons later and talked to her again.

“I know what you are.”

Oh goodie, someone with some brains for once. Very pleased to meet you I’m sure

“I can hear you, you know.”

I doubt it

“I wouldn’t, if I were you. I know your secret, hiding in plain sight. But you can’t hide from me.”

She stayed silent, thinking, considering. If he was telling the truth…

“You’re no tree,” he murmured, stroking at her with his silly little furless paws. “You’re a wood nymph.”

Hmmph

“No, I said nymph.”

And you are a wizard, what do you want a pat on the back?

“No, just a conversation.”

She was taken aback, she hadn’t talked to anyone for years.

“You must be lonely.”

Obviously

“You’re very grumpy.”

I’ve been stuck in a tree for near three hundred years, you would be too

“There’s not enough magic left for you to get out.”

Congratulations on stating the obvious but there is nowhere I could go anyway

“I have somewhere.” He produced a small box from his pack and her heart—woody though it was—faltered. That was—

“Yes I made this from you.”

Thief!!

“Come now, it won’t be so bad. I have a wonderful collection of items, and creatures, you won’t be lonely.”

I won’t be free

“You’re not free now.”

I won’t go

“Oh yes you will.” He opened the lid of the box, ornately carved and beautifully made but still the desecrated corpse of part of her flesh. Disgusting, sickening. Very pretty but so macabre.

It was powerful magic, runes and other things that should be of no consequence but she was too weak to resist and had been for too long. She screamed, waved her branches, reached for the sky but no great eagle or eager buzzard came to her rescue as she was pulled down, down down into the tiny wooden prison made from her own bones.

“That wasn’t so bad was it?” He asked as he snapped the lid tightly shut.

The box rattled with the force of her rage but he wrapped it in cloth and she felt the slide of ropes twinning tightly about her. It was strange, feeling part of herself outside of herself, when it shouldn’t have been part of herself any longer. I was dark and cool inside the box, but that was about the only good thing she could say about it.

Let me out

“No.”

He slipped her into his satchel, and she bounced and shook as he walked further and further away from her home.

Curse you

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you. But no, you will be a blessing. A boon to long life, nymphs, if the books are correct. We’ll be happy together.”

I doubt it. Ridiculous boy with your toys and tools, I could never be happy with you

“Hush now, tree, or I’ll leave you in that box forever.”

Shoddy craftsmanship, you should be ashamed

He laughed. “At least I know you’re not going to sulk silently like some of my prizes. No, you’ll be more entertaining.”

She went silent, just to make a point.

“If you’re very good, maybe one day I’ll work out how to re-plant you and you can feel the mud between your toes again. Wouldn’t that be nice? A little glade, lots of life around you, plenty of growing things to watch over.”

She perked up at that, suddenly feeling… was that what hope had felt like? It had been a few decades since she’d last let herself feel it.

“See, I told you. Your old tree may wither and die without you, but you can be new and fresh as a spring bud. As long as you do what you can for me.”

So that was that, she was to be a slave? No worse than she deserved, after watching her people be killed and not able to do anything to stop it. Finally her long awaited fate had caught up to her, it was about time.

Do you have what the humans call television?

“Yes, why?”

I’ve wanted to see what it is, can’t I be curious?

“Well you won’t have eyes for a good long while until I know you can behave, but we could start with some music.”

Nature makes the best music

“You haven’t heard rock’n’roll, just wait.”

[My thought process for writing this was: hmm, plant day. Plant whump... what if... the plant was the thing that was whumped. Hahah, nah... unless 👀?

And I thought about that for like three weeks before finally churning out 1k the night before the event. Sexily unedited, just the raw chaos]

17 notes · View notes

lofitowns · 4 years ago

Text

cleanse me

“ YOU ARE GOOD AND PURE AND EVERYTHING I AM NOT “

pairing. dabi touya todoroki x gn! reader

wc. 1.9k

summary. in which he is death and destruction and you are life and prosperity

tw/cw. blood, wounds

an. i’m really sorry if his characterization is off! i’ve never written for dabi before! also sorry if this isn’t my best,, i had an idea but i’m not sure if it translated well haha

sometimes he wonders why you let him touch you

You first met by accident. It was dark in the city; you could barely see around the corner. You knew you shouldn’t have been out that late. You knew you should have stayed over at your friend’s, especially with all the villains roaming around.

Your limited sight made you miss the man rounding the corner. His shoulders were hunched, and his breathing ragged. You didn’t acknowledge him until he fell in front of you. His body laid across the pavement. You gasped in surprise, kneeling to see what was wrong.

Maybe it was stupid, but you didn’t want to leave him there. Even though you instantly recognized the purple scars and glistening staples, you weren’t scared.

Your apartment wasn’t far, but you were glad it was dark. Anyone would think it was strange to see someone lugging an unconscious body along with them.

You grunted as you attempted to open your door, hoping none of your neighbors would hear your struggle. The last thing you needed right now was someone seeing you bring a villain into your apartment.

Once you finally got it opened, you dragged him into your bedroom and dropped him on your bed. You figured it would be easier to clean your bedsheet than your couch cushions.

You surveyed the damage. His shirt was torn, and you could see blood seeping out of the gashes. You attempted to peel it away from his skin, which in itself was a struggle. When you finally got it off, you wet a cloth to try and clean him up.

There was a multitude of cuts littering the man’s torso and arms; it made you wince. You ran the cloth over his skin, avoiding the staples since you didn’t know how sensitive those areas were.

Why were you doing this? There was nothing for you to gain. You chewed your bottom lip in concentration as the rag soaked up his blood. When he was finally cleaned off, you grabbed some bandaids and wrap to try and stop the bleeding for the time being. There were a few deep gashes, but with no medical experience, you wouldn’t be much help for those.

When you moved him in an attempt to wrap the bandages around his waist, he began to stir. Your breathing stilled for a moment as you stood in waiting. His eyes slowly fluttered open, and they were the most beautiful shade of turquoise.

He blinked a few times before turning his gaze to you. Your lips were parted, and your eyes were blown wide. A deep rumble rose from his chest, falling out of his lips as a chuckle.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you were able to come up with an answer, “Fixing you up.” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

He looked down at the white bandages, then back up at you, then back at the bandages. You sent him a weak smile, but he shook his head.

“You did it wrong.”

“Oh! Sorry, I just wanted to help...”

His face scrunched up as he sat up fully, hands gripping your bedspread. You reached out a hand to help him, but he pushed you away.

“Get me a needle and thread.”

You sprang up, hoping that there was some in your first aid kit.

As luck would have it, there was.

You quickly brought it back to him, seeing that he had taken the majority of his bandages off. When he saw you, he snatched the items out of your hands and began to work on himself.

You sat on the end of your bed and watched him. His fingers worked skillfully as he sewed his skin together. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were twitching. It was painful to watch. You were sure he had done this many times before.

Even knowing what he had done, you felt sorry for him. You didn’t know anything about his backstory. There were so many things that could have happened to him that lead him to this life. You weren’t here to judge him; you simply saw someone in need and helped them. You wouldn’t have to see him at any point after this anyway.

that night you scrubbed his hands clean twice, and he still saw blood stuck deep in his pores

But things weren’t that easy. He began showing up at your window at least once a week with blood collecting on his shirt.

In that time, you had become better at stitching him up. He showed you and gave you instructions the second time he came over, even though you tried to push him out. He would never say it, but he was grateful that he didn’t have to do it himself anymore.

This night was no different. You had taken to keeping your living room light on and window unlocked just in case he needed in.

It still confused you as to why you continued. He wasn’t giving you anything in return. Maybe it was because you enjoyed his company. But maybe you were just scared.

You heard the sliding of the window and the creaking of your floorboards. That was your cue to gather supplies and put a towel on the bed.

After setting your phone down on your bedside table, you made your way into your bathroom. After grabbing the small box and a washcloth, you turned to make your way back the way you came.

But you couldn’t. Dabi’s tall figure stood in the doorway, looking down at you. He whispered your name as you took in his form, checking for where he was bleeding.

You noticed a few tears in his clothes, but what caught your attention was his hands. They were drenched in red. Your eyes widened as you stared at them.

It didn’t take you long to decide what to do. You reached for his arm and brought him into your bathroom. He moved to sit on the toilet seat, eyes glazed over and staring into nothingness. You ran the tab, holding the washcloth underneath it for a few seconds.

You slowly cupped his right hand, averting your eyes from them to gaze at his face. He stared back at you, watching intently as you began to scrub the red away. The fabric would stain; there was no way it wouldn’t.

It took you more than one washcloth before you could see his skin again. And even after that, he asked you to do it again. His palms were tinted pink and you didn’t know if it was because of the roughness of the cloth or from the blood.

Dabi couldn’t turn his attention away from you kneeling in front of him. All your attention was focused on helping and cleaning him up. It confused him, almost made him mad. Were just stupid?

He knew you weren’t.

The man didn’t know why he still came here. It seemed routine now, he would get into a fight, and he would find himself sitting in your apartment. Your soft gaze would fall over him. Why were you so gentle with him? You were so kind. He didn’t deserve any of this.

But that’s why he kept coming back.

You made him stand up so you could inspect the rest of his body closer. In the time that you had known him, he never let you get too close. Sometimes he would talk your ear off, while other nights he would be completely silent. You could never tell what was really going on inside of his head, but you assumed that was how he liked it.

his battle-worn tongue doesn’t say the truth anymore; that he is ruined

The next time he crawled through your window, there was no blood in sight.

You had already headed to the bathroom to grab your supplies while his feet took him to your bedroom. He stared at your bed. Your sheets were bunched up, and he assumed you had been sleeping prior to his intrusion.

“Dabi?” His name left your lips as you stood in the doorframe.

His attention was pulled to you, the light from behind you giving you an ethereal glow. You really were his angel.

“Hey, babe.”

You shook your head at the pet name, “Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not. I... I just wanted to see you.”

Your jaw clenched, averting your gaze from him to the box in your hands. His personality had always been flirty, but he had never gone out of his way to see you. He only came over when he had something to gain.

“Dabi...”

His long strides brought him over to you in seconds flat. He raised a hand and tentatively hovered it over your cheek. You shouldn’t even be in the same room as someone like him, let alone let him touch you. But when your eyes turned up to look into his, he knew he was a goner.

It happened gradually, increasing every time he stepped foot into your bedroom. The atmosphere fits you well, he thought. The fondness he felt made his chest constrict, and the breath was knocked out of his lungs. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He was a villain for god’s sake.

You felt similarly. There was no doubt he was good looking, even with all his scratches and scars. Your stomach would twist into knots whenever you thought about him. It was always on your mind that one day he would stop coming, be it that he didn’t need you anymore or he lost his life. You never took yourself as someone that would fall for a villain.

After a few moments, you reached up and pressed your hand to his raised on, finally setting it on your skin. He moved forward, the gap between your faces growing smaller. His breath fanned across your face, and you couldn’t take it any longer.

You rushed forward, pressing your lips to his. They were chapped, and his palms were rough, but it didn’t make it bad. You reached up and cupped his cheeks in return, trying to keep him as close as you could. His hands moved down to rest on your waist.

The kiss was shorter than you had expected. He pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, a small but intimate act. The man kept his eyes closed, fearing that if he opened them, you would be gone, and he would be alone again.

He wanted to thank you for letting him crash into your life, but he knew he didn’t deserve you. You were everything he wasn’t. But you were allowing him to hold you with his stained hands and wrecked body. You were letting him touch you.

No words were spoken as you took his hand and led him over to your bed. You crawled under the covers and lifted the other side, signally for him to join you. Dabi watched your moves intently, fighting an internal battle. Should he mess up your life even more than he already had?

But you wanted this. You wanted him. And while he didn’t understand why, he wasn’t going to leave you hanging. He slipped his shoes off and dropped himself onto your sheets. They felt soft against his skin; he didn’t know the last time he had felt so content.

He turned his body towards you and saw that you were already facing him. You opened your arms, and he fell into them. He rested his head in the crook of your neck and breathed your scent in deeply.

It took him a few moments to hold you back, but when he did, he pulled your flush against him. The pair of you melted into the embrace, the natural heat of his body warming you.

Dabi knew he was never meant to have good things, but maybe this could be the exception.

and he wonders why you let him, the butcher, touch you, the sun.

thank you for reading :) have a good day!

45 notes · View notes

pulledaroundbystrings · 3 years ago

Text

Fictober Prompt 3: "I've waited for this."

Fandom: Hermitcraft, MCYT

Characters: Grian, GoodTimesWithScar

Rating: General

Warnings: None

It was raining, not just raining, but thunderstorming, with booming thunder and flashing lightning every few minutes. It wasn't a common occurrence in the Hermitcraft world, but it did occasionally happen. And it had been doing so all day.

And inside, Grian sat on his bed, under a blanket, sulking.

Grian hated the rain. It was loud, especially thunderstorms, like today. You couldn't even hear yourself think, let alone try to hold a conversation with anyone else. And it was so wet, it just soaked his sweater and got all through his wings and it just took forever to dry them after that, and they never sat right after he got caught in the rain. And you couldn't see anything, it was almost as bad as night, but at least a torch works at night, not so much in the rain! And it was dangerous! Mobs liked to come out because of the dark, and if trying to fly through rain wasn't bad enough, trying to fly through a thunderstorm was just terrifying, with all the lightning. Nope, rain was the worst. So Grian had sat under a blanket all day, feathers ruffled in annoyance and rubbed out of place by the blanket, grumbling about the weather and wishing it would clear up. But finally, it seemed to have done so. The thunder had stopped a little while ago, and the rain had slowly dropped from a thundering crash to a softer patter, then to a couple of drops here and there, and finally it seemed to have stopped falling altogether. Then the sun peeked through the clouds and they started to scatter away.

"Finally! I've waited for this. I waited and waited for so long and it's finally clear!" Grian hopped out of his bed with a grin and shook the blanket off. He was already stepping outside as he shook out his feathers and within minutes of the sky clearing he was swooping up into the air. He wrinkled his nose as he flew into some of the lingering water droplets in the air. Smart thing would have been to wait more than a couple minutes but it had rained all day! He wanted to get outside. It wasn't enough to soak through his feathers at this point, just annoying.

He saw movement over by Scar's trees and flew over to land delicately on a branch, leaving his wings partially extended to keep his balance on the precarious perch.

"Hi Scar!" Scar startled just a little bit, and looked around for a second before finding Grian in the tree and landing, less gracefully, in a neighbouring one.

"Oh, hi Grian! What are you up to on this fine day?" He smiled as big as always, but he looked soaked. Even his hat was drooping a bit from the water in it.

"Well now that the rain's stopped I can finally get outside." Grian had to look over Scar's wet clothes and elytra with a bit of empathy, getting stuck in the rain was absolutely the worst, even worse than just staying inside all day. "Did you get caught in it?"

"Oh no, I had to go collect some more charged creepers." Scar laughed at Grian's expression as he flashed his trident. Alright, no empathy for choosing to go out in the rain, not from Grian.

"Eugh. Not me, no thank you! I am perfectly happy to buy my charged creepers off someone else." Grian paused a second before letting a wide grin cross his face. "So how many times did you die?"

"Only like...twice, or three times...I don't want to talk about it! Getting charged creepers is hard work!" Grian laughed as Scar defended himself.

"I'm kinda surprised there's much demand for them. Especially with how hard they are for you to transport." Grian joked.

"Well," Scar suddenly looked around like he had somewhere to be. "Yes, um, I've sold a few. Very rare item, good for some particular uses, got some purposes in mind for these already. Well, gotta go, lots to do, bye!" Scar took off toward his main wagon as though Grian was going to stop him.

Grian just leaned back to avoid the water spray from his wings as he flew off. He continued looking after Scar for a couple seconds more.

"Well. That was weird. I wonder what he's up to?" Then he shrugged and took back off into the sky. He wanted a proper lap or two around Boatem before he got down to checking the G-Train and starting the next part of his alley. Always so much to do after a rainy day. He wondered if anyone else had been crazy enough to go out in the thunderstorm or if it was just Scar.

#fictober21 #hermitcraft #mcyt #writing #mine

2 notes · View notes

the-septic-maniac · 3 years ago

Text

Reunion AU Prologue

SPOILERS FOR ULTRA DESPAIR GIRLS AND TRIGGER HAPPY HAVOC

Chapter Masterlist

Komaru and Makoto are at the Future Foundation main building talking. Makoto had mentioned something about ghosts at Hope’s Peak and trying to figure out a way to help them pass on to the afterlife in peace.

(Continues after the cut)

“What about bringing their captive to them to finish whatever unfinished business that they have? After all most ghosts that exist, stay due to unfinished business.” Komaru piped up.

Makoto, with a solemn look on his face, said “ That’s all well and good but we don't even know where half the captives are. Plus the ghosts themselves are stuck in a loop in their last moments which for the blackened ghosts that’s extremely dangerous. You would be literally stopping them in the middle of their execution and you’d probably be extremely hurt in the process. And trust me, I have seen the injures firsthand that those executions did to them. It’s not pretty. Not to mention MY DUMBASS tried to rescue the blackened from their inevitable fates so I have scars from that!” Makoto sounded more and more agitated as he rambled on.

He rolled up his sleeves showing a series of scars and bruises. “The all bruises alone come from the first time I tried to rescue a blackened. I’m surprised my arms and back still fucking function. I’m surprised I’m just alive in general after all this” Komaru held onto Makoto’s arms and took a good look at them. Large bruises, lightning-shaped scars, and burns covered Makoto’s arms.

Makoto was shaking from the memories. “Leon… Mondo… Taeko… I tried to save them from their fates as Blackened. Even though they killed, they didn’t deserve such horrid fates!” Makoto ripped his arms from Komaru and clung onto his head, large tears streamed down his face as he started to sob loudly. Komaru backed away, bumping into Yasuhiro and Kanon, who were checking to see what was the matter.

Yasuhiro rushed over to Makoto to try and help calm him down while Kanon questioned Komaru about what was going on. “I was just giving him an idea on how to put the ghosts of the killing game to rest and I suggested that we used the captives so that they can do whatever unfinished business that they have and move on to the afterlife so that they don't have to be in a horrid continuous loop of being killed over and over again.”

Kanon’s breath stopped momentarily before it continued but it was shallow. Kanon looked down, her face covered in shadow. She sadly chuckled “Here’s me thinking I was over Big Brother’s death, but here's the opportunity right in front of me to possibly see him one more time.”.

Komaru looked at Kanon with a concerned look on her face when she remembered one of the items that she collected with Toko. “This must be yours then. I found it on a train when I was walking around Towa City.” Komaru handed Kanon a small notebook. Within the pages, it had the same thing written in it over and over again. “Thanks, Komaru but… I would've rather have forgotten this existed. It's a part of me that I need to get rid of desperately. Maybe if we do end up doing this ill tell ya some of my past or at least what is considered my past. Not much of my past was I not thinking about Big Brother… It's quite sad looking back on it.”

On Yasuhiro’s end, he was trying to calm Makoto down. Apparently, it wasn't too uncommon for him to have episodes like this whenever the blackened were mentioned to him. Yasuhiro called his mom over and Hiroko held Makoto in her arms, trying to calm him down like a loving mother and their child. Makoto and Komaru still have no clue where their parents went to. Takiaaki came rushing in as well. He knew those kinds of cries and screams anywhere.

Hiroko and Takiaaki both were comforting Makoto now, trying to tell him that everything was alright. They took Makoto into the other room to help him. Kanon and Komaru explained to Yasuhiro what was going on. “ it could work but like Makoto said it would be dangerous. But to be honest it's necessary. Those ghosts have been suffering for a long time. It's time they move onto the afterlife. Makoto should stay here. Seeing the executions happen may or may not cause him to go into another episode. While I was there as well for the executions, I never attempted to do what he did but nor did I try to stop him. But first, we’ll need to track the captives needed.” Yasuhiro pulled out a laptop and begun to look up some files. A few moments later, a few head scratches and keeping Kanon from putting random stuff in his hair, the files that he needed showed up. “Looks like we just need to find Takimichi and Tachi.”

Komaru looked downwards. “About Tachi… He’s actually dead himself. I don't know if he formed into a spirit or if he passed on. But he did say before he died that he wanted to see his kid. Maybe if we were to find his anchor we could reunite him and Chihiro?”

“Maybe it just might work.”

Kanon, Komaru, and Yasuhiro said goodbye to Makoto, Hiroko and Takiaaki. “We’ll be back before we head to Hope’s Peak to have the reunions and to grab the other captives necessary. Komaru and Kanon both have their hacking guns in case one or the other runs outta ammo. See ya.”

Next chapter

#danganronpa #trigger happy havoc #ultra despair girls #komaru naegi #kanon nakajima #yasuhiro hagakure #prolouge #dangan ronpa #ultra despair hagakure #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #danganronpa au #reunion au

3 notes · View notes

johnbernsteinx · 4 years ago

Photo

INTRODUCING: John Bernstein

“To create is to live twice.”

THE BASICS

Full Name: Jonathan “John” Bernstein Age: thirty-seven Birthday: August 9th, 1983 Zodiac: Leo Sun, Leo Moon, Virgo Rising Occupation: Gallery Manager and Curator at the Crescent Harbor Art Gallery Length of Time in Crescent Harbor: seven years Neighborhood: Goldfinch Valley [view his apartment] Hometown: Toronto, Ontario, Canada Nationality: Canadian Sexuality: Pansexual Relationship Status: in a relationship with @quinn-hawthorne Qualities: creative, nurturing, open-minded, loyal, driven, kind Flaws: pretentious, impatient, compulsive, nervous, stubborn, proud MBTI: INFJ-T “The Turbulent Advocate” Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Enneagram: Type 6 “The Loyalist”

THE FAMILY SITUATION

tw: foster care, adoption

John spent his childhood growing up in the foster care system, going from home to home until he was six years old. He doesn’t know his biological parents but is very close to his adoptive parents, which is why he usually refers to the Mannings as his mother and father, despite not being related by blood. The family fostered other kids as well, so there was always someone around. They had two biological children as well, who John also considers his siblings. His youngest adoptive sibling, Rose Paisi (@rosalindpaisi), recently moved to Crescent Harbor which he is incredibly excited about as they are very close.

THE LOOKS

Faceclaim: Dan Levy Height: 5'11’’ Hair Color/Length: black and short, usually neatly coiffed, curly if without product (aka never, unless you live with him or catch him off-guard) Facial Hair: John usually doesn’t go for a clean shave ever. He’s always sporting some stubble. Eyes: brown Complexion: clear, warm undertones Body: Average/Athletic. John enjoys excerise a lot but also likes to indulge in foods that aren’t considered good. Whether he’s keeping up with yoga, running or some light lifting, there’s rarely a day where he doesn’t add some kind of activity to his agenda, mostly to make sure he’s training his mobility. His frequent walks with his dog will also do the trick. Style: John is very interested in fashion and not at all scared to add some more unique styles to his wardrobe. More often than not, he sticks to a rather casual yet formal style, mostly due to his job but also because he likes to dress well and feel good about the way he looks. He’s usually sticking to high quality, if not designer, sweaters or dress shirts with a nice pair of pants but will also wear a good pair of denim jeans and a t-shirt occasionally. He also loves a good print. The man always looks very put together. You can find some outfits here. Smells Like: Considering his habit of going for runs in the mornings, John usually never leaves the house for meetings or errands unless he’s freshly showered. He hates nothing more than being smelly or dirty even, so he tends to smell fresh with a hint of cologne.

THE STORY

tw: foster care, motorcycle accident, injuries

Jonathan “John” Bernstein grew up in the foster care system and moved into a foster home in Toronto when he was already six years old but it was there where he finally got to experience what being a family was all about

He never met his biological parents and isn’t sure whether or not he’d like to some day. He’s in the process of trying to figure out how to go about looking for them, just to know but without success so far. He hasn’t told anyone about thsi and thinks it’s better to keep it close to his chest for now.

John is a very kind and very passionate person. If he’s excited over something, you’ll know! He doesn’t only get excited about things directly tied to himself though but about other people’s interests and successes, too.

The people around him either love him or hate him for it because he will go on and on and never stop until you tell him to. He always likes to indulge in rather intense conversations as it is and will go out of his way to help anyone with patience and kindness if they have any problem at all.

His intensity paired with his overall level-headedness is very useful when it comes to his profession though because he’s a natural at being a salesman who is always eager to network which makes renting and buying art for the gallery to help it extend and thrive an easy task (if you ignore the amount of overtime he collected over the past few years).

So basically, he’s a big softy who loves art in all shapes and forms and will go on about it to anyone for hours if they let him or dare to step into the gallery.

He moved out to Vancouver right after high school to go to university. He majored in visual arts.

When he was 24, John was involved in a crash with his motorcycle that left him severely injured and in a coma.

He made it through but the accident threw him into a spin and basically had him starting at zero. The healing process took a whole year because of complicated fractures and nerve injuries that he needed a lot of physical therapy and rest for - which only made John realized that he is not as good at taking care of himself as he thought he was up until then.

Jonathan feels incredibly fortunate to have survived the crash, despite the fact that it left him with some issues to this day. On his worse days, he’ll have a slight limp due to a hurt nerve in his leg and a pelvic fracture. He also suffered a minor motor nerve damage in his wrist which makes it hard for him to create art himself or do basic tasks, really. It keeps him from being able to lift heavy items or do other basic tasks due to the lack of strength and control. He learned to live with these remaining injuries and doesn’t really let them stop him, unless he pushes himself too hard and has to give in. He was also left with quite a few scars scattered across his body but considers them a small price he had to pay if it meant he still got to come out of it alive.

He loves to travel and did quite a lot of it after his recovery and before settling in Crescent Harbor where he’s been living for the past seven years.

John traveled to and worked in Tokyo and London the most and got a lot of his experience when it comes to galleries from his time there.

These days he’s gotten too busy and caught up in his work to even think of taking a vacation which is bad but the workaholic in him would say otherwise. Maybe it’s that or his inability to give up control - the man just needs to relax!

Despite growing up and becoming a lot more confident as he got older, John is still very soft-spoken at times but always polite and definitely happy to talk to anyone. He doesn’t like to be the center of attention and tries to stay in the background more, even though he’s not as shy as he used to be.

Overall, he’s a very friendly guy and tries to help anyone who might have a problem but don’t make him mad - the switch flips slowly but surely.

When you are in his circle though, he’ll do anything for you. He made quite a few friends in his years of living in Crescent Harbor due to that but his best friend and confidante is Diana Blackwood-Amari (@diana-amari).

Right now, he’s busy house hunting with his partner Quinn Hawthorne (@quinn-hawthorne), while also trying to navigate the ups and downs that come with being in a long-term relationship after having stuck to his own company for longer than he’d care to admit. Lets just say, communication is not their strong suit but they’re learning.

To sum it up: he’s soft, warm and friendly, very interested in art in any shape or form and just wants to be your friend if you let him! Just don’t disrespect him and you’re golden! Otherwise, you might get a pretty intimidating side-eye and a snarky comment or two.

Also, he would die for his dog, a Dachshund-Corgi mix named Merlot, and so would I tbh.

Find John’s wanted connections here, his full stats here, some musings here and his full bio here. 💕

#crescent:intro #( intro. )#( muse. )#( about. )#// i wanted to give this a quick lil update since i've been playing him for over a year now and some details were missing <3

4 notes · View notes

into-crazy · 5 years ago

Text

More to the Madness Pt. 8

Ledger!Joker x Female Reader series

Summary: You and J throw some knives after your sex sesh. With the night off, you engage in a twistingly fun time together.

Warnings- Cursing, self-conscious thoughts, brief harassment(not from you or J), violence, murder

You can find the other parts RIGHT HERE and through the “More to the Madness” tag lovelies💞💞

Redressed in your red attire and shoes, you glanced at your discarded underwear. Torn completely to shreds. Collecting the fabric pieces, you couldn't help but giggle at the fact that you will now have to go commando the rest of the night. Which is quite comfortable. The only downside being you'll have no breast support. Poor girls. You stuck the futile garments into your boots. You'll dispose them later.

No traces left behind.

As for your bodily fluids in the mattress, grimy as it sounds, you have no choice but to risk leaving them to dry up and hopefully be forgotten with the building. Not like you have a sponge and a bucket of bleach on hand. You excused yourself from the bedroom to freshen up in the bathroom. Luckily the water that still ran in the desolate complex was clean. Actually, you're just lucky there's running water to begin with.

Enclosed in the private enclosure, you quietly observe your post sex state. Facial features blotched out with various colors, much like a paint bomb went off in your face. Murky water fell into the sink when you rinsed your face clean. There was no hope for your tangled hair, you redid the buns best as you could. You weren't sure how long you stood staring at your reflection in silence.

Mere seconds, a few minutes..

Solidarity time to process what happened. Try and calm those bothersome questions running rampant through your head. It wasn't until you heard the hasty knock at the door.

"Hope you're not up to anything sketchy in there." Joker's voice came from the other side, an obvious hint of annoyance in his tone.

You blink back into reality. That's when panic set in. Shit, oh shit! Your makeup is in your car. What are you supposed to put on to cover your face? "N-no," you give a half-assed answer. There's a shuffling noise then the door's barged open.

"Then what's the hold u-" J's words were abruptly cut off at the sight of your face, "-p." Utterly uncovered to him, for the very first time. His eyes scan every single feature, as if he were burning you deep into his memory. He's fully gathered, with a fresh coat of greasepaint. Which no doubt he slathered over the last layer.

You had no choice but to stare back, wide eyed and waiting. Why is he looking at me like that? Is he repulsed, disappointed?

Shooting his glance to meet yours, he smiles before finally speaking. "What's with the ah, shocked expression doll?"

You struggle finding the right response, "I, uh, I don't have any makeup on me." Turning away to peer disapprovingly at your reflection.

J huffs, "you don't need it." He leans against the door frame, closely watching you through the mirror.

Shaking your head, you scoff, "believe me, I really do." It was in the way you said it that made him figure you weren't only referring to confining your identity. Purposely avoiding his gaze. The distaste in how you're looking at yourself, almost embarrassed of your appearance.

Sure. When you're wearing the disguise, you feel like the sexiest, most confident woman alive. Because everything which defines your face, is hidden. Take that off, remove the cover, and all the insecurities flood in. Pinpointing each and every detail to find a flaw in. No matter the times you were told differently. By that sweet old woman at the entrance of your complex who calls you a "beautiful young girl." Or when random citizens heartily complimented your smile. Though it was appreciated, you just couldn't see what they apparently seen.

Joker couldn't grasp the way you viewed yourself. Staring with strong resentment and disgust. And you didn't have to say what you thought- he saw it through you. It didn't make sense to him, he's the one with the scars. The permanent mangled marks embedded in his flesh- protruding from his face, visible even under layers of paint. Yet, not once have you looked at him the way you are right now towards your own reflection. He sees no reason for it, he doesn't like it, and he wants it to stop. Right now.

"Y/n," he sighs heavily, stepping into the small space. The use of your name getting you to turn and meet him as he props both hands on the counter either side of you. "And you should listen to me when I say You. Don't. Need. It." He sternly punctuates every word. "Anyone ah, thinks otherwise can deal with me."

Alas, you manage a half smile, "I think otherwise."

"Well bunny, I guess you'll have to ah, take it up with me. Besides, no one else is gonna have the luxury of seeing my dolls pretty face tonight. Just me." His tongue grazes his lips with the statement. Which earned a genuine laugh from you. No other words needed to be said on the matter, your eyes spoke gratitude for you.

Thanks J.

With that, he left you to finish up. To him, it was becoming awkward, since he's not one for emotional stuff. He thinks it's pointless, there's no room for any of that in his world. He hardly(HUGE emphasize on the hardly) ever addresses his own. Therefore he didn't know how to help you cope with yours. He tried to the best of his abilities, despite how uncomfortable it might have been. Nevertheless, you were grateful.

Joker took the liberty of plucking your harness off the floor. Intending to hand it to you when you came out the bathroom. But instead stopped to marvel at the few selected weapons secured on the piece. He was especially intrigued by the throwing knives. Pulling a blade from it's secure compartment, his gloved fingers traced the smooth finish on both the blade and handle. Crossing your arms, you watch as he examines the item.

"These are something," he notes tussling the blade in his hand, "little small, but they have weight. I adore a girl with ah, unique tastes.. how come I never see ya use 'em?"

Dropping your arms, you sneer, "one, I haven't gotten around to it." Reaching out, you pluck it from his grasp. Positioning it between your thumb and middle finger, index grazing the back. "And secondly," you turn in a stance to throw, flashing him a cheeky glance, "you never ask." With a quick motion, you whip your arm towards the wall releasing the knife. The force sending the blade to pierce into the drywall. A good ole classic no-spin.

He cocks a brow at you, "not bad doll. Not bad." You reach into the next compartment for the other. Since the blades are on the heavier side, you only carry two on you. Which is really all you ever need. Lose or break one, you have replacements. Flipping it over, you wave the handle out for J to attempt.

"Your turn."

"Me?" He staggers, palming his chest in a dramatic manner. You nod, further beckoning the blade, trading it for the harness he still held. He squints at the diminishing look on your face. As though you're eagerly waiting for him to throw a bad toss. "Y'know," he acknowledges, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were ah, underestimating my knife throwing abilities."

"What?" You scoff, a playful expression spreading your cheeks, "what makes you think that? I didn't even say anything." Oh, how true was he. Falsely deny it all you want, you're certain he read it just by the indication across your face. Yeah, he's good with his knives, but how is he when it comes to throwing these bad boys?

Joker let out a sharp sigh, "ya didn't have to say it. Doesn't take much to throw a knife." In a lightning fast action, he launches the segment at the same surface. The sight of the blade actually gouged into the wall struck wonder in you. "Although, we could both agree that some skill would be quite beneficial." There goes that cocky grin again.

"Alright, that was good," you credit him, advancing to collect the pieces. Yanking them from the spots they landed. "Though moving targets are trickier," you tease passing him a second throw, "shame we don't have any of those around." You launch another flawless toss, reveling in the satisfactory form of it sticking into the old apartment wall.

Joker let out a breathy chuckle, "who says we don't," he hurls the blade, it lands inches shy of yours, "how about we go out and fetch us a couple?" A mischievous gleam in his blackened eyes as his tongue grazed past his lips.

You shake your head nonchalantly at his offer, which he was seriously considering. Pity the poor saps who'd fall into that category. "Tempting as that sounds," you return, "wouldn't you prefer letting me in on the next move?" Referring to the upcoming step in his plan, walking to collect for another toss. This time, it required extra effort to extract the blades you nearly flung yourself backwards. Cringing as your still sore from your previous activity.

"Later," J speaks before your throw, which wounds a slightly louder thud. "It can wait, the next job isn't til tomorrow. So we uh, got the rest a the night off." He chucks the blade using an underhand throw, it sticks the mark. Now, he's just showing off. No biggie. You've got a couple tricks up your sleeve.

"Oh do we?" You question as you recollect, "what did you have in mind?" There was a printed copy of a Harvey Dent propaganda poster taped on the wall to the side. A picture of Dent's face with the virtuous "I BELIEVE IN HARVEY DENT" slogan big and bold across the bottom. You tore the flyer from it's place, instead placing it in use as a target.

"Well," J states, "before you came in, I was in the process of ah, relocating." He launches the blade, it lands centimeters from the edge of the paper. Letting out a dissatisfied grunt upon missing the mark.

You hum, "Yeah, I seen that. Anything that involves getting some fresh air, I'm game. Because it's really hot in here." Fanning your warmed cheeks and neck with your free hand.

"Then," he replies, "take your shot so we can go." Motioning his hand impatiently for you to throw a toss.

You flash him a coy smirk, positioning the knife where the blade is between your fingers. Handle pointed away from your frame. A quick flick, you hurl the blade. Sticking the target, the blade piercing the eye of the man on the paper. The strike surprising even you.

"Hm," J sneers, "lucky shot." The low growl a clear indication he's irritated you struck it before he did.

"Yeah," you humbly gloat, a bounce in your shoulders, "was aiming for the neck or chest area, but I'll settle for that one."

To Joker's dismay, his crew failed to leave him a vehicle. So you insisted on taking your car since it was parked only a block away. You left him to finish gathering what he's bringing to the new hideout.

You'll admit, you were a bit wary on letting Joker into your car. Partly because he's not exactly a neat person, nor careful to say the least. In addition, he's bound to draw attention in some sort of way. In the loud and chaotic manner that he can. And you're not in the mood to be chased by Gotham P.D. or the Batman tonight. To say your concern grew when you brought the car around, and he carelessly tossed three large duffel bags into the trunk. Two of which containing nothing but vast weapons, ammo, and explosives.

In the car, you wait. Fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel. Scanning the area to make sure no one caught either of you or identifies your vehicle.

J was quick with it, slamming the trunk to walk over to the driver's side where you sat. Knocking twice on the window to get your attention. You roll the window down a crack, and he tries the handle. It's locked. He tries again, "Let me drive, I wanna drive."

Shaking your head, you huff, "nu-uh, not a chance. I'm driving."

His gaze narrows as he leans in to speak through the small opening, "I know where the location is." Spoken on the verge of threatening. Like if you don't open that door and comply, you'll pay for it.

"The point of me driving is so that we don't draw attention," you explain.

He waves a finger at you, "fair point."

Joker didn't give you an exact address. He gave directions as you drove, telling you which streets to take and where to turn. This frustrated you because he mistakenly led you down the wrong street at least three times.

"Take a right here.. wait, that was uh, you were actually supposed to turn left."

You sigh, "seriously J?"

Reclining back in his seat, he grins slyly, "had you just let me drive, we wouldn't ah, have this issue." The little shit. Surely this is his way of punishing you for not letting him drive.

Apparently nothing in your car was off limits to him. The components of your glove compartment and console- he messily rummaged through them out of curiosity. He found the black eye shadow and lipstick you use. "So this is what you use for your eyes." He laughs waving the cosmetic in your view, "Hey ah, quick question, you didn't get your inspiration from me did ya?" He motions at the black paint around his eyes.

"No, I did not," you acknowledge, "before we even met I considered wearing an eye mask, but I decided makeup's more fitting. It actually allows me to see."

The street you were currently traveling was eerily quiet. Passing through the sketchier parts of the city, it's to be expected at this late hour. Only sellers and prostitutes occupying the corners. The few that there are anyways, they're in for a long night.

Coming up on a red light, your vehicle slows to a halt. J turns to glance at you, "ya could've ran that."

"Would've, could've, should've," you roll your eyes, "but I didn't."

He nudges your arm, "geez doll, lighten up. I know we're uh, layin' low and all. But have a little fun." Casually listing out, "run a red light, go thirty over the speed limit, hit a pedestrian, something."

See, THIS is why you're behind the wheel.

You were about to respond when a vehicle pulls up by your side. The light is still red, therefore it wasn't suspicious. Joker leaned back, obscuring behind the barrier of your seat to examine the car. You also turn to take a look. Three guys inside- windows rolled down, speakers blasting a tune. Appears they're out for a cruise, possibly up to no good.

Wandering eyes peek into your car and land right on you. You heard their voices as they talk obnoxiously amongst each other, a bottle in each their hands. They're drinking.. great.

"There's a chick in there!"

"Is there?"

"Yeah, yeah, there is!"

Your fingers grip the steering wheel in dread with what's coming next. Though nervous, you keep your cool, you've dealt with it plenty of times before. Just face forward and ignore them, they'll lose interest.

"Hey mami, how's it going?" A man calls. Another whistles at you like one would a dog, "look over here baby!"

You continue to stare forward, you're not concerned about them. The only thing worrying you to the max is having it happen with J sitting beside you. His jaw clenches and his hands ball into tight fists. So hard you could hear the pained squelching from the leather of his gloves. Growing angrier by the second, he reaches into his trench, pulling out his glock.

He goes for the door handle to get out. But your quick hand on his thigh stops him. As he looked back at you, you caught his blistering fury, ready to snap. You whisper, "no J- please- it'll draw attention."

He contemplated between staying in and getting out to handle the situation. His hand on the verge of opening the door as the men continue on catcalling. Words slurred from the alcohol in their systems.

This is the longest red light ever. Turn green dammit! You thought. Since they wouldn't get the hint, you retort to flipping them off. A clearer answer- I'm not interested, leave me alone. That only seemed to spur them on even more.

The man sitting shotgun shouts, "aye, come on baby. Don't be like that." The one in the back blurts, "Yeah, don't be a stuck up bitch! The three of us could give you a good night fuck." He then launches a beer bottle at the floor by your door, the glass shattering, a few shards scraping your car. They retort to laughing amid their own stupidity, going completely over the edge. You were nice enough to let it slide once, had they just stopped. However they chose not to, crossing the line into harassment.

Putting the car in park, you look at J. He's not going to let that slide, and neither are you. Pulling your gun from your thigh, you flash him a smile, "okay, I'm ready for that fun now." In return he grins back, wide and Cheshire-like, knowing exactly what you meant. Forget being subtle, you're gonna correct these disrespectful assholes- together. With a flick, the windows on your side of the car roll down.

Whistling and cheering, the men take it that you're giving in. You smirk darkly at them, cocking your head to the side. How wrong they were. You lean back in your seat, revealing J's presence next to you. If you could pinpoint the exact moment their souls left their bodies, you'd get it spot on. Eyes widening in fear as they see the Joker, you both holding the same spine-chilling expression. Confusion and panic wash over them.

"Ah shit! Hey man, that's the Joker!"

"The fuck is he doing with her!?"

Before they had time to react, you push your seat far back to aim your gun out the back window. J pointed his out the front above you. Savoring the sheer regret in their faces. A couple clicks are heard in the muted air, then you light up the car. The deafening gunshots ringing the street, echoing down the block.

When their movements stopped, you threw your shift back in drive. Flooring it the hell out of there before anybody could make you. Not to mention, the light was still red. The twisted mix of your shared laughter the last thing heard on the street as you drive away.

"Pull over," J instructs once you're a far enough distance from the scene. You comply, swiftly parking by the curb. Heated blood still rushing through your bodies, he grabs your face and kisses you greedily. You grab his wrists, kissing him back. It wasn't until you both needed air when you pulled way, staying close in your embrace.

The light from the lamp posts glows into the dimly lit space. Granting him the bewitching sight of his red spread across your lips panting against his own. It looks good on you. In fact, it'd probably please him if you'd sport his paint remains on your gorgeous lips. Perhaps maybe a lip shade identical to his, because red suits you perfectly. Especially his. He hums as the thought crosses his mind.

"You're mine." He breathes heavily on your lips, thumb swiping your flushed cheek. You trace his wrists in unspoken agreement. "Now scooch over hm, it's ah, my turn to drive." This time you didn't protest. When he got out and walked to the driver's side, you went over the middle counsel to plop onto the passenger seat.

It didn't take long to reach the destination. Within minutes, you arrived. To an enormous warehouse on the outskirts of the city. There are plenty warehouses that harbor the area. Many which currently remain in use, and some that are abandoned. The depot Joker, along with his crew, moved into was definitely one of the relinquished buildings. At least until now.

He parked a good distance from the entrance to the warehouse. Neither exiting the car just yet. "Did you ah," J starts, "did ya wanna come inside? I'll give ya a grand tour."

You take a moment to contemplate. "No, it's late. I better head home. Rest and come back for tomorrow's job- I mean if that's okay with you."

"Geez doll," he scoffs, "it's not like I gotta leash on ya- though we could uh, arrange that for another time if you're into it." His tongue clicking at the suggestive statement. "No- no, I won't hold ya. Ya wanna go home, go. Get some shut eye and be here early."

Joker grabs his bags from your truck while you take your place back in the drivers seat. Arms propped on the frame, you watch him drag the duffels onto the sidewalk near you. Chin lazily resting atop your arms.

"Now I better not find any trackers in my car." You jokingly mock.

"I look like the Bat to ya?" He throws back sarcastically, "don't push your luck sweetheart, you just keep givin' me great ideas."

"Some of which I might consider letting you take me up on." You can do this all night, the playful banter. Constant back and forth with snarky remarks. It's a strong, lively connection thriving between you two that somehow works. You like to poke him, he likes to poke back- harder. And vice versa. It never gets old. Alas, your body is exhausted and in need of sleep. It's quite noticeable, he can read the exhaustion on you. You smile warmly him, "night J."

Spoken so soft and calm, you're unsure whether he heard it or not. He did. Two light taps from his hand on the car's door proved to be. Thus ended your time together, and he stood there to watch your tail lights fade into the darkness before he finally deemed necessary to go about his own way inside the warehouse.

Man, what a night.

End of part 8. I hope this part wasn't too boring. I needed a good break from the smut- having written AND read😅 Anyways there's more to come!

#More to the Madness #joker #heath ledger joker #ledger joker x reader #joker x female reader #joker x y/n #ledger joker x y/n #ledger joker x female reader #the dark knight #fanfic

110 notes · View notes

doritopaw101 · 4 years ago

Text

Arc1, book 2: Chapter 6

"I want to kill the sun" his quick and blunt words made Graypaw jump. Raveneye was used to his words by now.

Raveneye and Dustpelt finally earned their warrior names. Good thing too, Icebelly was getting bored without Raveneye around.

It was how they got their names was what interested Icebelly. Ravenpaw and Dustpaw had to fight their mentors or parents, apparently that was the tradition but it had been getting lost lately. Robinwing very much pushed for this

"You've already let Embereyes, Nettlemist, Gingerblaze, Sandstorm, and Icebelly get their names without honor, you will not do the same for my kits, it was fine with Cherrycloud and Chestnutclaw because of the Shadowclan attack, there's no excuse for this Bluestar" she had spat which was shocking news to Icebelly that she actually called Raveneye her kit.

Leopardstorm and Redtail were fine with it and so it went.

It was shocking true for Thunderclan tradition to fight your mentor to receive your warrior name. If you lost you'd have to keep fighting til you won.

However things were sort okay at the moment, thanks to the weather, he visited Princess every day recently, slipping away to see her between patrols and hunting but he drew the line with Cinderpaw's training. Tiger-roar's talk drove that in his mind. However he finally managed to convince Gingerblaze to meet Princess and they met was...interesting. It was like another version of Luna and Princess trading insults, he was doomed.

He was worried when Flamepaw and Moonclaw finally met Gingerblaze.

Willowpelt's kits had just been apprentices: Rosepaw to Frostbite, Ebonypaw to Raveneye, Petalpaw to Redtail, and Owlpaw to Leopardstorm.

He's been to Riverclan once but that was understandable. Swanlight was kind and he got to spend some time with Condorpaw and Lakepaw as well as Silverstream, he even got to watch Silverpaw and Mosspaw's ceremony a few moons ago.

-Flashback-

Icebelly felt Greenflower's kits curling into his belly fur. It helped ignore the glares he was getting from the other Riverclan cats. Suneyes and Blackclaw were staring him down with hate in their eyes as they passed the nursery, or at least that's what Flamepaw described them being.

"They sure love you" Greenflower purred.

"It's like this in the nursery back at Thunderclan I swear" he replied holding Poolkit up when the kit slipped down to his neck. Flamepaw chuckled, Tidekit climbing on her head.

The nursery walls were lined with a fresh batch of lilies and lotus. It helped to brighten the already lively nursery, helped match the beautifully colored camp. It was a great contrast to the dull Thunderclan camp that Icebelly lived in.

"Well you are a fluffy mess so I don't blame them" Silverstream purred, rubbing himself against him, the tabby curling his tail around his own. Icebelly tried wrapping his paws around the tabby's neck, when he began to Silverstream smirked at him "Can't keep you paws off me Fluffball" Icebelly stuck his tongue in return "You're a handsome tease, I will get you back" he wrapped his paws around Silverstream's neck, nuzzling into Silverstream's fur.

Him being so close to Silverstream was sort of a test between the tabby and Greenflower, to know the cat who her lover was with. Greenflower nuzzled Silverstream softly "He's right when he says you're a tease Silver"

Silverstream stuck his tongue out at them "Ya'll love me anyway"

Greenflower licked his check "Indeed I do"

"All cats old enough to swim, gather round the high rock for a clan meeting" Stormstar called

"Should I go back to my camp?" Icebelly asked

"I don't see why you should" Swanlight mewed as she padded by, Condorkit and Lakekit following close behind her.

"Yeah besides Silverpaw and Mosspaw enjoy your company, they'll be grateful that your here to see their ceremony" Silverstream added

"Our ceremony is today" Lakekit burst out "You said you'd be here"

"Yeah but Blackclaw-"

"Say no more" Icebelly mewed "I'm glad I stopped here today"

"Really?" Lakekit mewed, she came up to his neck at full height

He licked her ears "Really"

Icebelly slowly stood up, letting Greenflower collect her kits and padded out with Flamepaw on his right and Silverstream on his left. He sat at the back, to draw the least attention to himself.

"More company" Flamepaw purred "Vixenpaw and Grasspaw are crude"

"Hey don't forget Shadepaw and Bluepaw" Silverstream mewed "Shadepaw's great"

"Too much energy in that cat" Flamepaw replied, her moss scarf shaking slightly "I can't deal with that and Bluepaw's a seer in training" she looked ahead at Mosspaw and Silverpaw "What kind of names will they get?"

"Probably -ripple, -creek or dive for Mosspaw, she's one of our best divers so far or -pelt for her fur and probably -tide or -river for Silverpaw, he's a trickster and he's a great swimmer"

"We gather here today for a warrior ceremony of two apprentices: Silverpaw and Mosspaw" Stormstar lowered his gaze, his flower crown slipping a little but was knocked back. "Mudbelly Mistyfoot do you believe these two are ready for warriorhood?"

"I do Stormstar" Mistyfoot mewed

"He's ready Stormstar" Mudbelly agreed

"Very well, Silverpaw and Mosspaw step forward"

The two apprentices stepped forward, both looked ready to burst with anticipation. Silverpaw hid his scar with his head fur well, cars still got him and Silverstream confused.

"Mosspaw from this day forward you shall be known as Mosspelt, your clan thanks you for your abilities in diving and fishing and Silverpaw from this day forward you shall be known as Silvertide, your clan thanks you for your abilities in fighting and good spirit"

"Mosspelt Mosspelt Silvertide Silvertide"

Stormstar straightened up "As is tradition, these two warriors will do The Great Night Swim, they will catch the night scaled fish and bring it back to camp as proof as well as anything else they find worthy"

"May you do well young warriors" Oakjaw mewed

"Come on you two" Fallowtail purred, her red smithstone ear rings gleaming in the light "Me and Frogleap will lead you" Silvertide and Mosspelt quickly followed their parents out of camp, determined to complete the swim.

"Otterstrike going to join them?" Icebelly heard Grasspaw ask, he glanced at the heavyset warrior. Strong muscles that he very much didn't get from Frogleap or Mallowtail.

Otterstrike huffed "Can't, Oakjaw wants me on otter patrol"

"Can't we just chase them out" Grasspaw drawled

"I wish" Otterstrike replied "at least they bring some prey"

"Someone's too sun-eyed" Silverstream muttered

Icebelly glanced at Silverstream and Greenflower "How was The Great Swim for you two?"

"Amazing" Silverstream mewed "I found a big one, Willowheart had to help me carry it since it was too heavy to fit in the vine bag I had. I also found some great shells"

"You gave them to the kits" Greenflower purred "Eelkit wouldn't let one go"

"Of course, my kits deserve only the best" Silverstream puffed his chest in pride "I'm the spoil parent"

Greenflower rolled her eyes "Clearly"

"Greenflower?" Icebelly asked "What about you?"

"Mine was alright, I was the only new warrior at the time and I'm not clanborn so the pressure was greater. The fish were small but still valuable though. I remember when Dawnscale made them into a necklace for me, I have it in my nest"

"Don't forget the challenge I had to do" Flamepaw called

"Challenge?"

"Yep, some of the clan wasn't fine with me just blindly joining so they called for The New Fish Challenge"

"What did you have to do?"

"They taught me a few things then sent me out to bring some items back, so show what it means to be a Riverclan cat"

"Not as tough as it can get" Greenflower added "It could've been much worse"

"That is not all Riverclan" Stormstar continued "We have two new minnows ready for apprenticeship: Lakekit and Condorkit, step forward"

The two kits stumpled forward, both held smiles of excitement.

Reedtail sat beside Swanlight, tails entwined "Already know who's Lake's mentor" he mewed

"Did you sway Stormstar or Oakjaw to tell you?" Swanlight smirked

"Maybe"

"Lakekit until you have received your warrior name you shall be known as Lakepaw, Voleclaw, you were an excellent mentor in Suneyes and I know you'll pass on all your skills to young Lakepaw and Condorkit until you have recieved your warrior name you shall be known as Condorpaw, Whiteclaw you are ready for your first apprentice. You have excellent training from Leopardclaw and I know you'll pass on all your skills to young Condorpaw"

Voleclaw and Whiteclaw padded over to the apprentices, they were holding two ends of an otter pelt bag, they tossed it up revealing white roses and rosebuds that showered over the new apprentices.

"Lakepaw Condorpaw Lakepaw Condorpaw"

-Flashback ends-

Icebelly smiled at the memory, the beauty of Riverclan would always interest him to no end.

"Why do you hate the sun?" Graypaw asked breaking his thoughts.

"It burns my fur constantly" he replied simply "Why do you think I go to Riverclan this often? To laze around and braid my fur"

"That's what Lionheart says you do" Graypaw muttered

"Lionheart can spend the day at the bottom of the river for all I care" Icebelly replied, tail high

"Can the fish eat him too?" Raveneye asked with a smirk

"Oh absolutely"

Graypaw rolled their eyes. "You two hang around Yellowfang to much"

"Not enough if you ask me" Icebelly mewed

"You're just glad she's there to help you deal with Robinwing"

"Not really, I can handle myself it's more my entertainment"

-Flashback-

Icebelly didn't like being treated like kit, he was a full grown warrior for fucks sake but here he was, being fussed over by Frostbite and Goldenflower.

"How's the feathers?" Goldenflower asked "Got them from a dove"

"They're fine" Icebelly mewed

Frostbite sniffed the nest "Needs more"

"No no" Icebelly scrambled to sign |It's fine, It's good|

He moved on his limp leg and winced. He fell back down but the feathers didn't do much to fall back on.

"Icebelly?" Frostbite mewed

"Is it too soft?" Goldenflower asked

"A little..." They were already off and out of camp. Icebelly would be more annoyed at them if they didn't have good intentions. He could only image what it'll be like when he has his kits.

"I don't believe it" Icebelly turned his head to see a pissed Robinwing, her ear was cut which made most of her feathers fall from behind her head.

"Believe what?" he replied, confused as hell.

"There's no way my Chestnut would mate with you, these aren't his kits"

Icebelly rolled his eyes "I can give you details of what we did but I'd like to sleep tonight" he flicked his tail "Never said they were his, but he is a likely sire of some, I can't throw out that possibility"

"A flea ritten outsider, traitor's kit, a river lover and a lier. You keep piling on" Robinwing sneered

"I stopped being an outsider the moment I beat Fogtail, your son" Icebelly retorted "You're just jealous Riverclan can actually tolerate me unlike you and I think your head's to comfortable up your ass to realize the obvious in your face"

Robinwing scoffed "You really are Dewflare's son"

"Last I checked, Frostbite declared me hers so no" he mewed bluntly "if you try to pull the blood is thicker than water shit, Fogtail isn't your kit by blood, he's Dappletail and Stormtail's son"

"Please, Dappletail was so happy to dump him, dumb bitch she was, I saved him" Robinwing replied, placing a paw to her chest.

'She's gone mad' Icebelly thought

"Are you trying is cause the miscarriage of your grandkits?" Yellowfang's voice while raspy at times still held great terror in it "or are you trying to kill yourself with an infection from that bleeding ear?"

"Piss off shadow cat" Robinwing growled "Go back to the rathole you crawled out of"

"Could say the same for you stone cat" Yellowfang replied swiftly "As they say, takes one to know one" she padded over to Icebelly "Now, if you don't mind, I need to do a check up"

-Flashback ends-

"How's Embereyes?" Raveneye asked

"And Miststrike?" Graypaw added "Will Yewkit really be okay?"

It had been somewhat recent, Miststrike, Leopardstorm, Tiger-roar, and Willowpelt were all in a new relationship and Graypaw and Cranepaw were already attached to Tiger-roar and Leopardstorm. Miststrike more so since they were already close to her in their kithood from what Gingerblaze mentioned. Nettlemist was basically their older brother, a nicer and polite version of Darkstripe in Cranepaw's words.

Cranepaw and Graypaw were all over Swiftpaw and Lynxpaw and were ecstatic when Goldenflower announced her pregnancy.

He heard Graypaw refer to Leopardstorm as dad and Tiger-roar as father, both fitting.

"What did they call Featherwhisker and Thrushpelt?" he whispered to Raveneye

"Featherwhisker was papa and Thrushpelt was papa bird" the black tom replied "They stopped at five moons"

"How is it so easy for them to replace them?"

"Why is it so easy for you to replace Dewflare?" Graypaw retorted overhearing his words "Before you found about the wolf attack"

Icebelly curled his lip slightly "My relationship with her is much different than what you had with Thrushpelt and Featherwhisker, best remember that"

Not everything could be calm, greencough was still present in the camp. Adderkit and Leapkit's deaths were evidence of that:

-Flashback-

He had just finished a training session with Cinderpaw, Lynxpaw, and Willowpelt, while Leopardstorm did oversee the training it didn't stop Lynxpaw from trying to do something reckless.

Spraining her paw in the process.

Neither Willowpelt or Leopardstorm was impressed.

Goldenflower had been all over her kit, questioning what had happened and Icebelly explained the whole ordeal. Swiftpaw complained at not being able to watch to which Tiger-roar cuffed him over the ears.

Icebelly had left Lynxpaw to get fixed up and lectured by Thymeroot. He started to pad over to the nursery but Gingerblaze stopped him.

"It's Adderkit" the ginger and white tom mewed "I don't think she's in a good state, she might lash out"

Icebelly nuzzled his brother's cheek "I understand but she might need someone and I'll be that cat if no one else"

Gingerblaze looked worried then sighed "Please just be careful, I don't want you to get sick either"

Icebelly touched his nose to his brother's "I will, relax blaze"

In the far corner of the den he heard small sobs, from Embereyes.

The blue-gray queen was sobbing into Adderkit, Volekit, and Doekit, their little coughs were barley audible. Icebelly didn't exactly know what to do but he followed what his gut told him. They padded over to the queen, sat next to her and curled their tail over her back. He slowly licked between her ears, trying his best to comfort her.

"Yellowfang told me...it's not likely they'll survive" Embereyes whispered

Icebelly felt his heart go out to Embereyes. No deserved to lose a kit. He continued softly groom her "If that's what's going to happen, let's make sure they have unending love til the end"

Embereyes buried her head into his chest, crying softly. Icebelly saw Adderkit stop moving, Volekit kept coughing and Doekit looked still as a twig aside from the small rise and fall of her chest.

"Ember...Adderkit"

"He's gone, I know" she replied

A thought came into Icebelly's head, he didn't know if it would work but he had to try. "Embereyes, I think I know of a way to help"

Icebelly had been surprised when she agreed even more so when Miststrike overheard them and told them to take Yewkit. They took Doekit, Yewkit, and Volekit to Barley's barn. He met with Violet,Barley,and Mary who took them to a house close to the barn. Violet told to visit in a half-moon and would tell them what would happen. Volekit and Doekit were old enough to know what was happening and they in their weak state said they hoped he got better for Embereyes which made the dark gray and white molly cry with sadness and love.

The clan had a burial for Adderkit and Icebelly saw Rosetail come to collect Adderkit. Rosetail told him to make sure Embereyes didn't blame herself for this and he would. Embereyes told the clan what she had done and why and Icebelly backed her up. The clan was shocked and many spat at of how she could do something like that

"Have you no faith in your clan" Darkstripe had hissed

"Not in this moment I don't, I don't want the others to die" Embereyes had spat "I'd rather give them away and they live than them staying here just to die"

Icebelly slept with Embereyes in her nest in the nursery that night. She practically begged him to not leave her alone and they wouldn't say no.

-Flashback ends-

"Embereyes and Miststrike will...survive as will Yewkit, Doekit, and Volekit now" lack for a better word seemed nothing but unsettle Graypaw even more about Yewkit.

The nursery was still full and there were few cats that didn't have apprentices at the moment. Bluestar might put a stall on apprentices for now.

He walked with Graypaw and Ravenpaw along the short trail to the sandy hollow where Cinderpaw and Ebonypaw would be waiting.

"I hope more clouds come" Icebelly mewed

"Let's hope rain won't come" Graypaw replied. Icebelly knew how much the their thick-coated friend hated rain-when Graypaw's fur got wet, it clung to them and stayed damp long after Raveneye's shorter fur had dried off. Icebelly's fur was fluffy but not to Graypaw's level, unlike Graypaw though he enjoyed the rain, it felt so good on him especially if he had been in the burning heat all day which was rare.

They arrived at the edge of the hollow just as Cinderpaw pounced on a pile of frosty leaves, sending them flying in all directions and Ebonypaw catching a few. Cinderpaw leaped and twisted to catch one as it fluttered back to the ground.

The three toms glanced at each other, amused.

"At least Cinderpaw and Ebonypaw will be warmed up and ready for today's assignment" Raveneye observed.

Ebonypaw stood up straight, her eyes wide "Good morning, Raveneye, Icebelly, Graypaw" she mewed "What is today's assignment?"

"A hunting mission" Raveneye told him. He padded down into the hollow, followed by Icebelly and Graypaw.

"Where?" mewed Cinderpaw, dashing toward them. "What are we going to catch?"

"We're going to Sunningrocks" Icebelly mewed "And we'll catch whatever we can"

Bluestar told all the cats with apprentices to make sure they are battle ready first and hunting can come after with Shadowclan and Riverclan at their heels. Icebelly didn't need to be told this because he followed Tiger-roar's method of training to a T. He once saw the two-colored tabby watching them train and he nodded in approval. Cinderpaw's training had been going very well, they were shaping up to be a good fighter managing to beat most of the other apprentices aside from Lichenpaw and Lynxpaw.

"I'd like to catch some voles" Cinderpaw declared "I haven't tasted vole yet"

"Now now Cinderpaw, everything we catch has to go to the elders, queens, and sick cats to help fight off their greencough" Icebelly warned

"But I'm sure if you asked the elders nicely, they'd be happy to share" Graypaw added with a purr

"Okay" Cinderpaw mewed "Which way is Sunningrocks again?" They bounded up one side of the hollow and peered into the forest, their tail sticking straight up.

"This way!" Icebelly, leaping up the opposite side.

"Okay" Cinderpaw raced down the slope, across the hollow, and up to Icebelly's side, sending fallen leaves flying everywhere. Graypaw followed with ease while Raveneye leaped up and caught one it drifted past his nose. He pinned it to ground with a purr of satisfaction and saw Ebonypaw staring at him "Er, never miss chance to practice your hunting skills" Raveneye told her quickly

Ebonypaw chuckled "Sure Raveneye"

The five cats made their way along the familiar scent trails to Sunningrocks. The sun above the trees by the time they emerged into open territory. Ahead of them, a slope of rock rose out of the soft earth, its smooth surface lined with cracks.

After the shade of the woods, the flat rock face reflected the sun with dazzling glare. Icebelly hissed in pain, in pain from burning his fur to his eyes. He dashed into the shade in an instant.

"This is Sunningrocks" Raveneye announced, blinking. "Come on!"

"Mrrrrr! It feels nice!" Cinderpaw mewed as she raced up the stone slope behind him. Icebelly knew Cinderpaw was right but was not going to burn to feel the warmth.

Icebelly watched the others rest at the top, where the far side fell away steeply to the forest. Icebelly listened for the gentle bubbling of the river that followed the Riverclan border, flowing down from the uplands. It touched the Sunningrocks before turning to run deeper into Riverclan territory. He could barely hear it-perhaps the water was low after the scalding dry weather.

Graypaw joined Raveneye "Come on" he mewed "Make most of the sun while it's here"

"Is this where Sweetheart died?" Cinderpaw asked

"Yep, Blackclaw and her fought and ender up cracking her head open" Icebelly replied "Fucking bastard"

Raveneye prickled his ears. "Hush" he hissed "What can you hear?"

The two apprentices strained their ears forward.

"I think I can hear some scrabbling" Ebonypaw whispered

"It might be a vole" Graypaw murmured "Can you tell where it's coming from?"

"Over there" Ebonypaw mewed, leaping to her paws. The scrabbling noise became more furious and then disappeared.

"I think it heard you" Icebelly remarked.

Ebonypaw looked crestfallen. Cinderpaw purred with amusement at their friend's clumsiness.

"Never mind" Graypaw mewed "Now you know that it's better to creep up slowly, especially on voles. They're fast!"

"Fast little pricks" Raveneye grumbled. He was a tree hunter, made for the trees and hunting birds. That's the one and only thing he and Robinwing will ever get along with.

"Sit still and listen" Icebelly advised "Next time we hear something, work out where it is and then begin to move toward it very slowly"

The cats remained where they were, no one daring to move until they heard the scrabbling sound again. Icebelly's ears pricked, Icebelly rose and crept forward, biting his tongue when he felt his pelt sting, he placed each paw noiselessly in front of the other until he reached the edge of a small crack that ran across the rock face. They paused. The scrabbling noise continued. Icebelly lunged forward and reached down into the crack with a forepaw. Their fur and skin were burning as he scooped out a fat vole that had been hiding in the shadows and flung it onto the bright stone. It squealed as it landed, but the hard ground stunned it and Icebelly finished it off quickly.

"Wow!" Ebonypaw mewed "I want to do that!"

"Don't worry; you'll have plenty of chances. For now, let's get back to the forest" Graypaw mewed

"Aren't we going to catch anything else? While we still have sun" Cinderpaw protested

"Nope" Icebelly replied "There's only so much sun I can take"

"Also did you hear the vole squeal?" Raveneye cut in, the apprentices nodded "Well, so did every other creature around here. They prey will be hiding for while."

"I should caught it and killed it before it made a sound" Icebelly said in embarrassment

Graypaw rubbed himself against him, whisker twitching with amusement "It's fine Snowy"

Icebelly chuckled through the dead vole. Graypaw had been calling him this nickname for the past half-moon and Icebelly couldn't help but laugh and call Graypaw his fluffy pigeon.

While Icebelly could hold a facade, it had to come down some time. He felt his fur heat up, his skin boiling, eyes starting to blur. He dropped his vole and screeched in pain. Raveneye and Graypaw knew what was wrong and tried to calm him down but Icebely wasn't having it. The shade wouldn't help now, he needed water. He broke into a run, Raveneye and Graypaw's calls rang on deaf ears, literally as his ears started to ring. He followed his nose to the river.

"Icebelly, the river's frozen!" Graypaw called through the ringing but Icebelly didn't stop. He wanted this to stop, he was numb to everything. He tripped and fell onto the ice, sliding a little.

"Icebelly don't move" Raveneye mewed

"What is going on?" Ebonypaw asked

"Icebelly's pelt is burning and he's having another episode" Raveneye replied

Icebelly felt the ice crack a little but he was to out of it to be concerned. "Relax" he heard Graypaw mew as he picked him up by his scruff

"Graypaw, get off the ice your too heavy you'll-" but Raveneye's warning was too late. The ice gave out with a terrifying crack. Icebelly tried swimming but his vision wasn't coming back so he didn't know what to do and Graystripe's weight wasn't helping.

They were moving raping lightly that Icebelly knew, being carried downriver.

Icebelly thought them and Graypaw were sleeping with the fish, they almost were if not for two sliver tabbies. He felt Raveneye grab his chest fur and pull him up. Icebelly laid there coughing up water and Graypaw doing the same beside him. Even though he almost died, at least he wasn't burning anymore.

"You idiots!" Silverstream spat "What were you thinking?"

"Drowning?" Graypaw replied

"Can't you drown in your own territory?" Silvertsream mewed, his eyes flickering with amusement

"Yeah but who would save us there?" Icebelly purred

"Starclan help us" Silvertide chuckled, licking the top of Icebelly's head.

"That was awesome" Shadepaw mewed jumping beside Silvertide.

Raveneye sighed and turned to them "Look, Icebelly Graypaw, we've got to get out of here"

"We can't have you freeze to death" Ebonypaw advised

They said goodbye to the Riverclan cats and made their way back to their camp.

"What do we tell the clan?" Cinderpaw asked

"Just say Icebelly was trying to teach us how to fish" Ebonypaw suggested "From what Riverclan taught him"

"I doubt they'll work" Icebelly muttered leaning against Raveneye

"What are you fools doing this time?" Tiger-roar's voice was powerful as always, though it sounded more tired than annoyed.

Fuck

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

"That was fun" Shadepaw purred, tail waving

Silverstream rolled his eyes at his apprentice "Let's hope it happens again" he said sarcastically. Silvertide chuckled.

Shadepaw's eyes dark blue eyes widen "Really?"

"N-...sure" Silverstream replied honestly done at this point. "Should've let that Thunder drown" He heard Blackclaw drawl "They don't know swimming if it came and swallowed them whole"

Oh how Silverstream wanted to rip him apart. He knew Blackclaw as nothing but a fishbrain in his opinion, others respect him as one of their best warriors and honor his words and methods. Mistyfoot and Blackclaw have a little rivalry going on their pretty neutral to Blackclaw but hate his methods. Stonefur and Blackclaw decided kits were what they wanted and were having Skyeyes surrogate for them, glad it wasn't Suneyes who was Blackclaw's first choice.

Silverstream did worry for his cousin's choice in a mate after Splashsong. It seemed to break something in him, only really holding himself for Shadepaw and Bluepaw. Him taking Blackclaw as a mate didn't help Silverstream's concerns at all, they didn't really even do a courting process according to Mistyfoot.

At least the rest of the clan was still normal. The clan was booming with Swanlight and Fallowtail announcing their pregnancies. There was also the addition of a molly named Soot joining the clan and was expecting Stormstar's kits. Not to say Silverstream wasn't excited about being a big brother, he very much was and Sootwhisker was a lovely molly to be around.

"We're already on Thunderclan's bad side when you decided it was a good idea to attack and kill at Sunningrocks" Silvertide pointed out with a hiss

"They killed Beetlestrike" Blackclaw retorted "Suneyes had to raise Vixenpaw and Grasspaw on her own and now they've killed Splashsong"

Shadepaw's ears and tail dropped at the mention of her father, her head hung low.

'So you actually admit that Stonefur had a mate before you' Silverstream thought bitterly "After you killed Sweetheart, on purpose and a patrol killed two more of their warriors, what did you expect to happen?" Silverstream shot back

Blackclaw scoffed "Whatever, how's training been?" changing the subject. 'Your views will get you killed' Silverstream thought 'And I will be laughing 'I told you so' during your river ceremony when that happens'

"Awesome, Silverstream's been showing me some fishing techniques" Shadepaw replied, her cheery attitude returning

"No swimming?" Blackclaw's amber eyes narrowed "Did the great Silverstream not want his paws wet" he muttered the last part and only Silverstream heard him.

"He's been teaching me some swimming techniques" Shadepaw mewed cheerily "It's fun"

Silverstream was glad for Shadepaw's more calm and cheerful nature and didn't catch the insult in her step-father's words. Seriously how was Skyeyes his sister? Rippleclaw made sense to be his son but Whiteclaw is a different story since the gorge attack.

"Hey Silverstream Shadepaw" Silverstream was glad for the gift in Stonefur and Morningriver who was behind him.

"Hey Papa hey Auntie Morning" Shadepaw purred padding over to them

"How's my niece doing?" Morningriver mewed as she rubbed Shadepaw's head

"Great, I saw Thunderclan cats today"

"Really now?" Morningriver chuckled

"Silverstream and Silvertide saved two from drowning" Shadepaw added with pride

"Drowning would have been better" Blackclaw growled

"We've already killed three warriors from Thunderclan we don't need more Blackclaw" Morningriver said coolly

"Come on let's head back to camp" Stonefur quickly mewed

"We need Sunningrocks back if the fish continue to disappear and die" Blackclaw replied falling beside Stonefur who carried Shadepaw like a kit. "Shadowclan taking the good fish doesn't help either"

"And when we need it Stormstar will give the word" Silverstream cut in "Simple as that Blackclaw nothing more nothing less"

Blackclaw curled his lip but said nothing.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Whitethroat laid on his side numb to the whole world. He ignored the wails and moans of the camp. He was lost to it all or he was if not for Marshshadow bringing him out of it with Wolfstep's help. Beepaw was mostly being trained to deal with wounds by Brokenstar's orders and Palecloud could only handle so much.

"How're you feeling?" his mother mewed softly, her scent still soothed him even now in this fucked situation.

"Tired and sore" he replied. He saw Wolfstep glance at his kits "I haven't named them yet" he mewed

"Are you gonna wait for Mossclaw to get back?" the black tom asked raising an eyebrow "I made a pelt nest for you but I don't know if Mossclaw will..." he trailed off for a moment "I mean I made one for Hollowpaw before got apprenticed and Burdockpaw and Rippedkit before he..."

His oldest kit, apprenticed to Barkfoot. Already covered in scars and being breed, to her it was her purpose. It hurt watching his daughter to this willingly. It hurt more that he couldn't do anything to stop it. Burdockpaw wasn't much better with her mentor being Nutwhisker. It felt strange to lose his only son so soon after his birth, he expected sadness but it wasn't there.

"Could I train to be a pelt-maker under you?"

"I'd love that" Wolfstep replied "I'll have to see if Brokenstar will even let you"

Brokenstar didn't allow for any ceremonies of kits, they were too weak for Shadowclan so they didn't deserve a proper send off. Palecloud brought the kitten skulls to an area in the graveyard as far as Whitethroat was concerned.

Whitethroat was about to say yes to Wolfstep but caught himself on what he was doing. This wasn't like him at all, he was fiery, rough, and tough and he'll be damned before he lets Mossclaw get into his head like this again.

It was hard to think since Brokenstar decided it was a good idea to mate with him. It was bloody and he ended up passing out with Littlecloud and Wetfoot dragging him back to camp. It didn't help with Mossclaw adding onto harshness and Brokenstar told him he needed to be a good breeder for the future of Shadowclan if Dawncloud, and Darkflower ever finally give out.

Not like Dewflare made anything easier. The only thing she made easier was that Brokenstar didn't seem interested in Fernshade as much. Leaving her to raise her third litter with him mostly in peace. Dewflare was expecting another littler already. Marigoldpaw was different story. If there was one thing Brokenstar seemed to like, it was tortoiseshells. Did it matter that it was his own kin he was breeding, of course not. If Brokenstar wanted something, he'll get it.

"No screw him" he answered gazing down at the little ones suckling at his belly. Two black kittens, both mollies.

"Hollylock-kit and Dark-kit" he mewed

"My lovely granddaughters" Marshshadow purred

'Let's hope' He'd rather not think of the other option.

Whitethroat was glad however that while the elite grew, the other clan's tolerance for Shadowclan was thinning in Thunderclan and Windclan's case. Riverclan has been submissive at the moment.

"Move it breeding stock" Dawncloud was shoved to the ground by Mossclaw. The dark brown tom displayed new scars on his shoulders and back from the recent Windclan attack, it was hilarious that he got them from an apprentice, Runningpaw from what he heard from Clawface. Palecloud had told Brokenstar it wouldn't work but Brokenstar ignored him and told Mudfoot and Deerfoot to attack the medicine cat but not kill him. Palecloud could barley stand on his own now but always made the painful walks out of camp with Tangleburr's help, just to get away even for a moment.

Poppyflower and Darkflower jumped over Dawncloud, protecting her in case Mossclaw tried anything else. "You don't attack us unless you want to lose valuable members Mossclaw, even Brokenstar says that" Poppyflower hissed.

"Duh because that's all you mollies are good for, cats that have miscarriages like Poppyflower are failures to Shadowclan, like my lovely Whitethroat" Mossclaw sneered as he padded over to Whitethroat. He looked down at him, his green eyes locked on the kits.

"What are those?"

"Your daughters dumbass" Whitethroat replied, gently licking the kittens.

"Daughters? I wanted sons" Mossclaw snarled, his tail lashing "Rippedkit was a disappointment, I want proud sons"

"Too bad" Whitethroat spat, anger filling him at the disrespect of his son's memory "it's an equal chance for both, you're just sore because you didn't get a son from raping Houndbelly" the molly in question seemed to shrink at her name, trying hiding in between Whitethroat and Marshshadow.

Mossclaw's eyes narrowed, he lifted his unsheathed paw. Whitethroat covered his kits with his tail, teeth bared.

A rush of white appeared in front of Whitethroat and shoved Mossclaw away.

"B..Blackfoot?" Whitethroat mewed in shock

"Enough" the pointed black tom stated

"Excuse me?" Mossclaw spat, rushing back to his paws

Blackfoot fluffed up his fur, he towered over the dark brown tom. "I said enough Mossclaw, Are you going to argue with your elite?"

Mossclaw glared at Blackfoot but said nothing. "Deal with it later" it was Nutwhisker who mewed that "Brokenstar wants Whitethroat in his den and wants Marshshadow for day watch with Blackfoot"

Whitethroat felt his skin crawl "I'll watch them" Dawncloud mewed. The young queen had just given birth to her third litter of Hemlock-kit and Cloudykit sired by Toadpelt.

Whitethroat rested Dark-kit and Hollylock-kit into Dawncloud's paws and headed to Brokenstar's den. He entered quickly, he was used to the smell.

He spotted Brokenstar leaning against the den wall, Whitethroat never forgot how large his uncle was for a Shadowclan cat. He had Blossompaw taking his cock, pushing his hips upwards. Marigoldpaw was rubbing against Brokenstar and what made horrified Whitethroat the most was Hollowpaw was there as well.

"Clawface told me about your recent birth" Brokenstar mewed "Two mollies, great job"

Whitethroat nodded stiffly

"I want you to be one the front lines rather than kit making"

"Why?"

"My kin deserve the best" he shoved himself fully in Blossompaw at the best

"What do you want me to do?" he tried to ignore Hollowpaw cleaning Brokenstar's paw pads

"The overseer role is back in the clans once more, I want you and Lizardstripe to be ones" Brokenstar groaned, placing more pressure on Blossompaw's hips "I already have an apprentice in mind for you, Batkit"

"Alright, I'll train her well"

"I expect so" he groaned as he finished inside Blossompaw who moaned her own release. "Come along" he mewed

Blossompaw and Marigoldpaw followed silently. Hollowpaw glanced at Whitethroat

"How are you?" it was all he could ask

"Living" his daughter replied

He licked Hollowpaw's forehead softly, not being able to do much else. He walked outside with Hollowpaw leaning against him. He sat next to Badgerfang, his cousin was covered in blood but seemed unbothered. Blossompaw sat close to Palecloud and Beepaw, Whitethroat raised an eyebrow.

"All cats gather around for a clan meeting;" Brokenstar called "Time to raise our cats, Goldenpaw, Pinepaw, Foggypaw, Foxpaw, Hollowpaw, Viperpaw, Blossompaw, Marigoldpaw, and Whisperpaw come forward"

The apprentices did.

Brokenstar had been...well...going more bat-shit insane than normal. He and Bluestar had fought and Bluestar had took one of his lives and left him with a bad chest scar. He seemed to want to declare that he was still strong and had control over his clan.

Brokenstar had been encouraging cats of his elite to 'make sure the young ones stay in line'. Mossclaw followed his words to a T when he decided to rape Houndbelly. The young molly had gotten pregnant and gave birth to three kits, she was too young and her body couldn't take it well, one was born still, another died three days after birth and the only survivor was Batkit. Whisperpaw had been attacked by Toadpelt and was knocked out in the medicine den for a half-moon.

Brokenstar has been trying to increase his bloodline to no end. Dewflare's new litter on the way. Dawncloud's expecting again, Darkflower already had Scorchfang's kits, Redkit and Emberkit was now expecting Brokenstar's kits again.

Brokenstar has been expanding his connections through Dewflare trying to round up new members for the clan. Duskthorn was a good start but Whitethroat knew it would expand in time.

"Goldenpaw you will be known as Goldendusk, Hollowpaw you shall be known as Hollowheart, Pinepaw you shall be known as Pinetail, Whisperpaw you shall be known as Whisperleaf, Foggypaw you shall be known as Foggyclaw, Foxpaw you shall be known as Foxtrot, Viperpaw you shall be known Viperfang, Marigoldpaw you will be known as Marigoldcloud you will become a permanent queen and I've already offered myself as your mate. Blazefang, since Viperfang and Marigoldcloud have shown promise you may return to your warrior duties for the next 3 moons"

Blazefang just stared at Brokenstar but said nothing. There was nothing really to say if she didn't want to be killed.

"Blossompaw you shall be known as-"

"Wait Brokenstar" Blossompaw cut in, her voice was honey sweet

Brokenstar's gaze snapped down to the white molly "Yes" he said this with gritted teeth, he didn't like to be interrupted. What he liked was watching cats in pain or below him.

"I want to be a seer, I've been having dreams lately" Blossompaw mewed

"It's true, we've been talking" Palecloud mewed "She picks up signs better than Beepaw at the moment Brokenstar"

Brokenstar drew his unsheathed paw to his face, seeming to fight a hiss. "Fine, Palecloud you may train Blossompaw"

The gray and white tom padded over quickly, touching noses with her and leading her away into the medicine den with Beepaw following after them.

"Anyway" Brokenstar growled "Dirtkit you will be known as Dirtpaw and Goldendusk will be your mentor, Rottingkit you shall be known as Rottingpaw and I will mentor you, Elderkit you will be known as Elderpaw and Hollowheart will be your mentor, Lizardkit you will be known as Lizardpaw and Cinderfur will mentor you, Muddykit you shall be known as Muddypaw and Viperfang will mentor you, Adderkit you shall be known as Adderpaw and Mudfoot will mentor you, Copperkit you shall be known as Copperpaw and Turtleshell will mentor you, Pricklekit you shall be known as Pricklepaw and Sootmask will be your mentor, and Batkit you shall be known as Batpaw and Whitethroat will be your mentor"

4 notes · View notes

ofmenoetius · 4 years ago

Text

✖ ▒ OH, WHAT A COINCIDENCE! i was just thinking of [ PATROCLUS SON OF MENOETIUS ]. most swear their resemblance to [ SEAN TEALE ] is unmistakable, but he has / they have been around since the [ BRONZE AGE ]. it is rumoured that the [ DEMIBOY ] was born in [ OPUS ] in the year [ 1205 BC ], even though they don’t look a day over [ THIRTY ]. what a shame, though: they were once famed for being [ HONEST ] and [ PASSIONATE ] ; yet now, they seem more and more [ RESERVED ] and [ MERCURIAL ]. but while [ PATROCLUS ] spends their days working as a [ HARPIST FOR THE LONDINIUM SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA ], they are already notorious around town for [ UNSENT LOVE LETTERS ADDRESSED TO NO ONE ; BANDAGED FINGERS AND CALLOUSED HANDS ; A BEAT UP OLD FLIP PHONE ; THE FAINT SCENT OF COFFEE AND CARDAMOM ]. when you live forever, you might as well make the most of it.

hi, hello –– i’m bella + also the worst !! this is my baby patroclus who’s one part powerpuff girl, two parts physical embodiment of the eyeroll, and generally just has really bad frown lines from being in a Bad Mood for like thousands of years or whatever. ( will not get botox sadly, someone convince him ) anyway –– i am here for every single plot of every single kind !! just like this and / or hmu on discord @ halaldaddy#3725 !!

TASK ONE : THE RUNDOWN

▼ STATISTICS.

full name: patroclus, son of menoetius.

moniker / nickname: officially goes by patrick in 2020, and he has the fake ids to prove it. generally isn’t the biggest fan of nicknames.

titles: tbd.

gender && pronouns: demi-boy && he / him + they / them.

dob && age: april 24th, 1205 BC && really old –– about 3224 years old, give or take, but he’s been thirty for a really long time.

place of birth: opus, greece.

previous residences: opus, athens, larissa, cape town, cardiff, inverness, paris, milan, caracas, && londinium –– in that order.

zodiac sign: taurus.

ethnicity: white && venezuelan.

sexual orientation: demisexual.

romantic orientation: homoromantic.

occupational history: perpetual soldier, squire, orange farmer, lutist, revolutionary, boxer, harpist. among others.

▼ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

face claim: sean teale.

height: 185 cm && 6′2.

physical build: mesomorph && visibly muscular && painfully straight back from years of his father’s voice still stuck in his head. ( it’s 2020, maybe he really should go to therapy for his daddy issues, but how do you tell a therapist your dad died before the trojan war ?? asking for a friend. )

eye colour and shape: dark brown && hooded, really long lashes which he does oil at night && also lines his eyes with kohl. it’s habit.

hair colour and style: dark, cropped, usually trimmed neatly.

usual expression: bored, reluctant smile.

accent and speech style: heavily accented english, but it’s impossible to pin down where he might be from. speaks spanish and greek with more ease than he does english.

distinguishing marks / characteristics: both ear lobes pierced, gold studs in both. a shield tattooed on his left flank. plenty of scars –– one across his right eyebrow, scarred && calloused hands, a very large scar that refused to heal right on his left shoulder.

clothing style: anything he can find, really ; athletic for the most part, but smart button-downs ( always button-downs, never button ups ) for work.

jewellery and accessories: a thin, gold chain around his neck ; his an engraved ring hangs from it, tucked away. a deliberate collection of rings on his fingers: a curved edge, yellow gold signet ring from a third-generation foundry in greece ; a classic medusa ring picked up in florence during the renaissance ; a turquoise inlaid silver signet ring ; a silver plated band, worn on his left thumb.

▼ FAMILY.

father: menoetius, deceased ( thank fuck ).

mother: philomela, deceased.

siblings, if any: myrto, his sister.

extended relations: none that he knows.

significant other(s): achilles && only achilles. it could only ever be achilles.

children: none, except his ––

household pet(s): he has two tabby cats named menelaus and ajax ( just a little fun joke for himself, okay –– don’t @ him. )

▼ FAVOURITES.

colour: gold ; every shade.

weather: storms –– it reminds him of mornings spent inside, the air sticky and humid, sweat on his upper lip and a laugh on his tongue.

food item: he’s a vegetarian –– he always has been, especially since he didn’t always have food, especially during the 1100s. so yeah, patroclus isn’t exactly picky –– anything veg and vaguely edible’s fine –– but he does love a vegan burger ( normal cheese, please ). the perks of the 21st century. okay, and he loves green olives.

beverage: he’s a stereotype, he loves red wine. ( fine, he hates wine –– he likes tequila. )

time of day: late at night, late enough that the streets are quiet and the air feels thin and he can breathe deeply.

television genre: not that patroclus has time to watch tv –– plus he’s got one of those old picture tube tvs from the dinosaur era –– but he loves a good underwater documentary. and shark week. and the history channel –– he likes to catch what they got wrong.

favourite era lived: he’d do anything to go back to the day before he died –– anything. to say a proper goodbye, to say all the very many things he’d never said because he thought he had all the time in the world. but also, he really loved the ‘70s in londinium.

▼ PERSONALITY.

hobbies: boxing && reading && falling asleep in the sun.

pet peeves: people talking in circles && liars.

phobias: patroclus doesn’t like drowning. he’s died of drowning once && come back from it, but he absolutely hated it. he’ll take anything over it.

allergies: coffee. which is fine, because patroclus likes green tea anyway. ( well, green tea with like three whole spoonfuls of honey. )

mbti type: isfj – t.

enneagram type:

35% the challenger.

48% the skeptic.

22% the peacemaker.

positive traits: passionate && honest && loyal && dependable.

negative traits: reserved && mercurial && blunt && pessimistic && headstrong && forlorn.

morning routine: goes for a run every morning before dawn, goes to a boxing class, has breakfast at the bookshop on the way home, and gets to work at least an hour early. it’s boring and it’s too familiar and patroclus wouldn’t change it –– he’d rather have predictable than the alternative. he’s tired of losing people and places and old routines, so he’s holding on to this one until he has to move again in another twenty years.

beauty routine: nothing really ; patroclus keeps his beard neat and his hair trimmed. he oils and curls his lashes, oils his beard. he misses baths –– big baths that you could sit in and just stay in until you pruned. but he only has a shower in his apartment now.

sleeping habits: patroclus hasn’t slept through the night since before his first death ; nowadays, it’s a few hours of sleep at a time, and plenty of nightmares to keep him company. the good thing is, he’s very used to waking up early –– rather than tossing and turning or watching his ceiling until dawn, he’s up and out of bed.

oldest belonging: he doesn’t have anything –– nothing. patroclus always leaves things behind, always. it’s easier that way. and sure, he regrets it sometimes. but there’s no use crying over the past, right? not when he has an endless future.

living space && home: it’s small –– it’s really small. but it has bay windows, a shitty little terrace with doors that the wind knocks open, and plants everywhere. there’s a kingsize mattress on the ground, one set of sheets total and they’re made of cotton-silk. orange, of course.

INTRODUCTION : tw death ; tw war .

his childhood wasn’t pretty. patroclus was born too skinny, too weak –– maybe not sickly, but he wasn’t wanted. he wasn’t loved. he was born into a war, and his war was his father. his war was his father’s shame. so when he killed another by accident –– in anger, in frustration, by mistake –– his father was more than happy to ship him off ; and somehow, that was the greatest gift his father could have ever given him. thanks, dad.

it’s been so long, everything feels like a dream. it feels too sunlit and too warm to the touch. it feels too easy. and sure, he can’t remember all that much about it. but he remembers achilles. he remembers being so happy that he felt sick to his stomach. but he doesn’t remember hector’s knife in his stomach or dying that very first time. but he remembers waking up to hades in the underworld, and he remembers the sickening realisation that he could never go back ever again –– he was here, and he was alive, and he still had to leave everything he once knew behind.

patroclus didn’t want money or fame ; he’d only ever wanted a love to call his own and a place to call his home. and since he’d lost both already, he was tired. so he went off to work on an orange farm, right at the edge of the world –– or well, the edge of his world. he was still in greece, news travelling to them every few months or years, and it was alright. he was away from the rest of the world, labouring under the cruel sun and sleeping into the cool night, and waking up to do it all over again. he smiled at the kids on his way into town and gave them an armful of oranges each. and then when people began to wonder whywhywhy he wasn’t aging, patroclus moved on to the next village –– and then the next, and then the next.

it was 1465 + he was in florence when he saw a lute again –– a laugh escaping him before he could start to remember when he last laughed out loud. it reminded him of home, of a long time ago. so he began to play for money and food and a place to stay. and it took him all over the world –– meeting people who’d die before he’d reach his next destination and learning things he’d never be able to forget.

going to war became a habit. the crusades, the gallic wars, the jacobite rising, the war of the roses, the french revolution, the seven weeks war, world war i, the russian revolution, world war ii, and so very many more –– patroclus wasn’t really fighting, but he was trying. he was trying to make sure some good came out of them, that there was some death that he could stop, some blows he could take if it meant another lived. but at some point, he just couldn’t keep doing it anymore. his heart hurt and his nightmares followed him in the daylight.

now, well –– he’s a harpist for the londinium symphony. patroclus has been her for all of about 12 years now ; he doesn’t want to move, not yet. but throughout his many, many lifetimes, he’s perfected and loved the harp –– it’s the only thing he recognises in this brave new world, and he’s going to hang onto it for as long as he can.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

survival of the stubborn: a mentor, someone patroclus met after a long, long time of being immortal, but someone who taught him to stop being completely miserable and enjoy the time they have. if it wasn’t for this person, patroclus probably wouldn’t have lasted all that long.

death becomes you: immortal friends ; the gang, the squad. the ride or dies –– so to speak. they can go decades without talking or meeting, but they get together again every fifty years and know they can rely on each other. plus, they can literally whatsapp each other now –– like, what.

orange you glad to see me: he worked on an orange farm in greece after their first death in about 1200 BC, and met this person there. maybe this person owned the farm, maybe this person was just a guest of the owners, maybe they also worked on the farm, or maybe they just met each other in the village nearby –– but they met again years and years and years later and it was a lowkey lightbulb moment of oh, so i’m not alone out here for patroclus !!

please turn the music off: musician friends + members of the orchestra ( mortal or immortal ) + anyone who’s into music and they might have met each other over the years !! perhaps a mentor or maybe they even totally hate each other, but just about any type of music relation !!

encore, encore: patroclus worked / played in a few different courts over the years –– always the lute or harp –– so this might be someone he might have played for !!

tequila’s my best friend: drinking buddies !! what it says on the tin. patroclus is a miserable drinker, usually ends up spilling all of his secrets, sometimes ends up breaking things.

the war followed me back home: patroclus served in plenty of wars until 1950 –– far too many, with new names and new titles and new ranks every time. to do some good in the world. or maybe they were just chasing their first death at hector’s hands. either way –– this is someone they might have served with !! could be a commanding officer ; a fellow soldier ; or even a doctor / nurse !!

old enemies, new friends: people he just doesn’t get along with. at all. ever. they’re always hated each other, maybe they even killed each other a few times, but just some sort of enemies !!

more to be added !!

#this is so long i hate myself #im so sorry #qismat.intro #qismat.task #qismat.taskone

4 notes · View notes

readbeneaththelines · 5 years ago

Text

His Possession Pt. 8

This is NSFW, PLEASE READ WITH DISCRETION.

A/N: Debts are collected, one way or the other. Unfortunately, you were the collection for your father’s debt.

Yoongi is ruthless, cunning, and obsessive.

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings’ violence, language, this chapter is mainly Yandere Yoongi

Word Count: 2024

This is NSFW, PLEASE READ WITH DISCRETION.

SWEATY YOONGI IS A BIG MOOD cr. to gif owner

The next morning you were up early, taking a shower and fixing your hair and make-up. You rushed down for breakfast, greeting the men with a smile. Yoongi was at his usual spot, your chair pulled out to his right.

“Good morning everyone!” you greeted them with a light happy tone. They looked at each other, trying their best not to laugh out loud. “Men, be respectful. Y/N, did you sleep well last night?”

“I did. And yourself?”

“Very well thank you. Now we have a meeting this morning, then Y/N and I are going out for a bit. Do you all think you can handle things here while I'm away.”

“Yes sir”, echoed around the table.

“Good, now let’s eat and get moving.” When the plates were cleared you told Yoongi you would wait for him on the back lawn while they had their meeting.

“Why don’t you join us, Y/N? It’s nothing big, and since your here, you might want to know what’s going on.” He looked at everyone else, daring them to argue.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.” You were assured you weren't and followed the men into Yoongi’s main study. It’s decor matched Yoongi’s personality to a The furniture had strong straight lines, the wall and floor were dark toned and there was minimal furniture.

They discussed future meetings coming up with other families in Daegu and Busan next week, shipments arriving over the next few days, and a dinner party at the end of the month which Yoongi was hosting. Once everything was written down and covered, the group dispersed and you were left alone with Yoongi.

“You ready to go?” He asked, holding his arm out for you.

“Yes sir” you wrapped your arm with his and you both walked out and to the waiting car.

You had lunch at a small quiet diner, the food heavenly on your tastebuds. Afterwards, he took you to all your favorite shops, waiting patiently as you tried on outfit after outfit. You were thankful that most of his attention was on his phone, answering brief calls, emails, and texts. But the last outfit you tried on got his attention. It was a light blue one piece pantsuit that hugged your curves and dipped low in the back, exposing you from your shoulders to just above the dip at your waist. Yoongi couldn't help but stare.

"Hello, Earth to Yoongi." You giggled when he swallowed hard and looked up at you, cheeks a soft shade of pink.

"Uhh. Yeah, sorry. What did you say?" He looked back at the screen of his phone, avoiding your eyes.

"I asked you if this color looked good on me?" You spun around slowly, pausing when you were facing him again.

"Yeah, it suits you." He said hurriedly, trying to think of anything else except how amazing you looked.

"Good! Then I'll get it. I love this color blue." Stepping back into the changing room, you quickly changed. Yoongi was at the register, waiting, as you brought several outfits back. " I don't have to get all of these, I'll just pick out a few." You started concentrating on the ones that were your favorite. He grabbed them all from your hands, putting them down on the counter.

"We're getting them all."

Relenting, you let him pay for the items, taking the bags before he had a chance to reach for them. "The least I can do is carry my own things" you said, playfully sticking your tongue out at him

. "Fine. You don't have to fight me on that one." He took off, leaving you gaping at him before deciding to catch up. For all you knew, he would leave you behind without a second thought.

"Yoongi! Wait up!" you whined, huffing under the weight of the bags. "Where to now?" you asked, catching your breath as you came up beside him.

"I'm hungry and tired. I'm heading home."

"Oh" you muttered under your breath, slightly disappointed that your shopping day was already over. "Well thank you for today, I know you didn't have to do this and I appreciate it." He simply nodded, opening the trunk for you to place you bags inside. Settling down in the passenger seat, you waited for him to get in. The ride was quiet, you looking out the window at the passing scenery as he kept his eyes focused on the street ahead.

"Do you hate me?" The question can't out of nowhere and took you by surprise.

"What do you mean?" You turned in your seat to face him, looking at his profile as he drove.

"Just that, do you hate me. We haven't really talked about what has happened. You've been cordial to me, and my men. You have, for lack of better terms, blown off what me and the guys have done to you. If I was in your shoes, I would despise me, never wanting to be alone with me." He kept his eyes forward, not looking over at you.

"I have accepted my fate, Yoongi. Do I hate you? I'm sorry, but yes. I cannot forget what you have done, what you put me through. I have nightmares every night. But I have no choice but to feel obligated to do what's best for everyone involved. I don't know how to run a family like you do. If I were to go back, everything would crumble around me. I've been thinking, maybe I should let my family merge with yours. It's your money, after all, and it's owed you. Thing is, I wouldn't know what I would be doing. I'm not as strong as you are, not as smart at handling certain matters as you. Yes, I hate you, but knowing what I know now, I can forgive you, though it's a slow and painful process." You turned to look at him, the pained expression on his face showed you that you had stuck a cord with something you said.

"You will probably always hate me. I've had time to think about some things, and I maybe did go to the extreme, but I can't take that back now. You're smarter than you think. The suggestions you gave at that one meeting has really panned out. I think you could run a family quite competently." He pulled off the road, down a long gravel driveway, pulling to a stop at the end. He turned in his seat, facing you.

"I'm sorry Y/N. I'm sorry I took your family from you. I don't blame you for hating me, in fact I expect you to always hate me. Remember when Jungkook told you about our connected pasts? He didn't tell you everything. I remember when you were born, I was five at the time. You were this adorable little chubby thing that always had a smile. When we were growing up, I would watch you sleep in your bassinet while our families talked and ate dinners. I watched you take your first steps, held your hand when you went exploring on the beaches during vacations. I adored you, I had this tugging feeling that I should protect you. Throughout the years, it was always you and me when we got together. Then one day, it was all over, you were home with a nanny. They said you had been sick, but later I realized they were protecting you in case something went wrong. Besides my parents, you were the one thing that I feared I wouldn't see again. Finding out it was your family that killed mine, I was angry. Angry and devastated. Three people I loved more than anything, were now gone from my life."

"You loved me?" you interjected, your heart racing at what he was telling you. You didn't remember much growing up, most of those people had moved on and away. To find out that he was such a pivotal part of your life made your heart ache.

"In some crazy way, yes. I wouldn't call it love in the romantic sense, but it was a love that you would have towards someone very special to you. I felt betrayed when I found out it was your family who left me orphaned, so to speak. I even felt betrayed by you for the longest time. I put this whole maddening plan into effect as soon as I could. I waited twelve years to get my revenge the way I did. I wanted you to suffer like I did, I wanted you to hurt like I did. I never once thought that you had nothing to do with this, I was so blinded by rage." He shook his head, trying to clear it of the thoughts he had carried with him all these years.

"I'm sorry Yoongi. I'm sorry I didn't know what my parents had done. I'm sorry I didn't realize the bond we had then." You hadn’t felt the tears flowing down your heated cheeks until Yoongi wiped one away. You felt an urgency to touch him, taking his hand in yours as it was pressed to your face.

"I'm sorry you have suffered and lived with this anger for as long as you have. I wish I could turn back time."

Yoongi pulled his hand away, causing you to cry even harder. "You can't do that. As much as I would want my parents back, they're dead. Having you with me now, it's not the same as when we were kids. Now, I want you to hurt, like I did in the beginning. I hate the fact that I cared about you then, because my youthful stupidity reared its ugly head for me." Without another word, he was tearing out of the driveway and back into the main highway.

His words stung, the fact he admitted he wanted you to suffer. You had thought the two of you were coming to a mutual understanding. Now, you realize, you haven't made any progress. He hated you, just as you hated him. Maybe his scars were still as fresh as the day his life changed. The rest of the ride was made in strained silence, neither of you acknowledging the other.

Once you arrived at the mansion, you grabbed your bags from the trunk and flew through the front doors and up to your room. Throwing the bags on the floor, you climbed yourself on the bed, red hot tears soaking the pillow. You cried yourself to sleep, not waking up until the next morning.

Yoongi cursed himself for telling you everything. He hasn't planned on it, but he felt you getting under his skin, and he couldn't let that happen. You had left his life once before and he didn't want to get close to you again because he knew deep down you could leave suddenly again. He joined the others for dinner eating in silence as they related the day's events. "I'm going to turn in for the night, I'll see you all at breakfast." He rose, bowing slightly before he left. He showered, dressed in lounge pants and climbed into bed. He vowed he was not going to let you get close, not again. That night he had the same nightmare he hadn't had in years. The nightmare that took his parents and you away, and he was alone and scared.

Your were startled awake by the sound of someone knocking on your door. "one minute" you called out climbing out of bed and heading for the door. Namjoon was standing in the doorway when you opened it, a stern look on his face. "Sorry to wake you, but you need to get dressed. I'll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes." Before you could say something, he was gone. You quickly changed, brushed you hair and teeth, then scurried down the long flight of stairs. Namjoon was standing at the bottom, car keys in hand.

"Where are we going?" you asked as you followed his outside.

"You're going home." was all he said as he climbed into the drivers side.

@min-shookga-yoongi @beautifulseoulliar @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @dreamyoongi @holy-yoongi @trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570 @seoulsunshineandstories @kwonnansi @xjamlessparkx @berryjam17 @kingsuckjin @kpoppingthempills @ina18071989 @btsfluffsmut

#yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst

70 notes · View notes

marvel-lucy · 5 years ago

Text

The Walking Disaster, chapter 5

There’s really not enough Steve here, which is what everyone actually wants. Sorry. It’s entirely possible I’m a writing disaster.

All chapters are on the Walking Disaster Masterlist

I’m a bit drunk, OK. That’s why it’s happened. I mean, it could have happened to me stone cold sober, but this time at least I have an excuse.

I shove my feet into some shoes yes. Left foot, right shoe; right foot, left shoe. It’s dark too, there’s another extenuating circumstance for you right there. So I’m sat down, I put my shoes on, I pick up my keys from the coffee table, I start walking towards the door, but my feet want to go in opposite directions, then I tread on the toe of one foot with the heel of the other, and fall straight onto the coffee table, smashing it like it was a stunt prop. It’s loud, unexpectedly so. But even as I lie there, surrounded by bits of broken flat-pack, I distinctly hear the sound of Apartment 4’s door shutting, and footsteps walking down the hall.

Lucky escape, right.

There’s a big bit of me, the wine-fuelled, lust-laden, teen-hormone-filled bit of me, that wants to scramble to the door and pull it open, and run after him and accidentally trip and have him catch me in those strong arms, and hold me steady, gaze into my eyes and realise that there I’d been, all the time (well, a few weeks), right in front of his eyes. He’ll kiss me on my nose, and my hair will blow out majestically behind me (except for one bit that will cleverly hide my missing eyebrow) and then we’ll kiss and happily ever after will happen. Yeah, OK, so I’ve thought about this a lot. But then there’s the other, logical, bit of me that realises in this scenario I’ll either miss him completely, or fall and knock him over, breaking his arm painfully, or he’ll catch me, and my hair will blow in my face and stick to my lips weirdly (but revealing my missing eyebrow) and he’ll look kinda weirded out, stand me back up, politely back away and move out, without leaving a forwarding address.

So instead, I lie there, feeling sorry for myself, until I fall asleep.

So now it’s Sunday morning and I feel even sorrier for myself. I wake up in a patch of overly-bright sunlight, hugging a broken table leg. I drag myself up to realise I have wood splinters stuck all over my face. I take a long hard look at myself, pull off my mis-footed shoes, look at my apartment, and sigh.

Long, cold shower. Large, hot coffee. Plain, dry toast. Painkillers. Water. Crack open the window for some cool fresh air. Rethink life. I’m not religious but I offer up a generalised ‘anyone out there’ in the hopes of a little support, just in case. Then I sweep up my furniture, leave it in a garbage bag by the door ready to go downstairs.

Here’s the thing, me. It ain’t going to happen. Life’s not a rom-com, and no meet-cute ever actually happens in real life. The boy next door marries someone else and the girl next door needs to do her laundry. So go do it.

Sunday morning laundry. Has there ever been a greater time to be alive? Super fun right! I collect it all up into a giant bag, and it feels like there’s every item of clothing I’ve ever owned in there. Which is why I’m wearing old pyjama trousers and the scraggiest t-shirt known to man. Dubious stains, badly placed holes, and an advert for some company I’ve never heard of. Yeah, I know, the meet-cute rules say if I’m dressed like this I’ll bump into him, right? But I’ve already told you, those rules don’t apply, so just shut UP brain.

I’m only one floor up, so there’s only two sets of stairs. Down to the lobby, then down to the basement. I’ve got my giant bag trailing behind me, a basket full of washing powder and a book and a cup of coffee juggled under the other arm. The bag slithers behind me, flumping down each step. The coffee sloshes a bit. Here’s the bit where a cute movie girl would slip on the coffee, or accidentally spill her surprisingly beautiful matching underwear all over the boy next door. Luckily my greying undies make it safely downstairs without mishap. I shove it all in the machine, I sit in a chair and drink my coffee and stare at my book for a while, then doze off. Then I shove it all in another machine, doze off some more, then shove it all back in my bag.

Even my own brain is bored at this point, and it’s the one narrating this.

Then I flump it all back upstairs, bumping on each step two flights up, then I get there, and tuck the huge bag awkwardly under my arm as I reach for my keys. My keys. Which I last saw on the coffee table, before I broke it. The coffee table that is in pieces on the other side of my extremely locked door. Fuuuuuuuck. I was doing so well at avoiding the disaster clichés this morning too.

I’m not quite sure how long I stand there, basket in one arm, bag in the other, forehead resting against my door, softly whispering ‘fuck’ to myself. Let’s just say it was only seconds, OK. Allow me that much dignity. But apparently Sunday morning laundry is a thing, so who else do you think decides to do it? There he is folks, it’s Mr Apartment 4, Captain Handsome, the Meet-Cute that never was because we’ve already met and it sure wasn’t cute.

‘Are you… trying to walk through the door?’ He says that as if he actually thinks someone like me might try it. (I have. It doesn’t work. I still have a scar. Don’t ask, it’s a thing). I can’t even be bothered to lift my head up to be honest, so I leave my forehead resting on the door, and just rotate slightly. My hair catches as I turn.

‘Is your eyebrow supposed to look like that?’ I’m so done at this point, that I just smile. This is me, in all my glory. Run while you still can!

‘My keys, right now, are only four inches from my hand. But this door is slightly in the way of me getting them.’ I demonstrate which door I mean by banging on it slightly. With my head. I’m having a bad day, OK.

‘Ah. That explains the fuck. Um. What explains the eyebrow?’ He actually looks concerned, as if he’s genuinely asking, but actually, wait. His mouth is twitching slightly, and I can see he’s trying really hard not to laugh, but this is me, OK. I’m not going to be Nat. So he’s never going to like me, so I’m not going to try and hide it any more. The bag slides out from under my arm and splits as it hits the floor, so my laundry slides like a wave across the hall, a shimmering wave of greying and holey sweatpants and sports bras, all mismatched of course. I put the basket down, and the washing powder tips over, and powder starts to pour out into a tiny mountain, just waiting for miniature skiiers to take to its slopes. I. Don’t. Care. What’s the point in even trying?

This has only taken seconds, of course, and he’s still watching me but now he’s actually smiling. Ok, grinning. Woah, here comes a chuckle.

I turn around, rest my back against the door, and slide down it, until I’m sitting down. My feet knock over the powder mountain as I go, then end up resting in a pile of clothes.

‘I singed my eyebrow cooking. So I cut bangs to hide my eyebrow. Then I wore a cap to hide my bangs. But I was leaning out the window yesterday and my cap fell off. So I’m just wearing this brow with pride now.’

‘And the bandages?’ I look down at the greying bandages wrapped around my fingers.

‘Also cooking. The pile of wood inside my door wasn’t the result of cooking though. That’s the result of putting on my shoes. I am multi-talented in the inept department. I’ve won prizes for incompetence, but I lost them somewhere. I got a medal for most hospital appointments as a child but I swallowed it. I have lost my keys so many times that the super buys them in bulk. I am banned from all glassware shops in a three mile radius and when it’s icy, all local ER departments have a special cubicle set aside for me to have my bones set. My name is used in global alert systems to indicate an above ‘red’ level catastrophe. I am, to use the technical term, a freaking disaster.’

I look up to see how my rambling’s gone down, but he’s not there. Or not where I expect him to be anyway. His head is no longer six foot something up in the air, but is about level with mine. He’s cross-legged on the floor, still with that toothy grin on, but he’s using his finger to poke around the washing powder, and he’s drawn a smily face with it. The bozo. Here I am being woeful and he’s cheering me up.

‘Is your window open?’

‘Um, yeah, why?’

‘So’s mine. You could go out my window, go along the fire escape, and let yourself in. Or, I mean, you could live out here now. Either is fine.’

‘You’re suggesting that I, me, this person here, crawls out of an open window above ground level, walks along a rusting fire escape, pulls open another window, and crawls through?’

‘Yeah. It’ll be fun to watch. I’ll film it for YouTube.’

He’s definitely smiling at me now, but you know what, it’s OK. I don’t feel like blushing, I don’t feel like the butt of the joke, I feel like it’s OK to be chaos personified for a change. So, I scoop up my laundry into the remains of the bag, and I go into his apartment. I’m not looking round, because that would be rude, but my peripheral vision is working way overtime taking it all in. There’s a load of art stuff, easels and paints. There’s a big TV and a laptop, and some unwashed mugs. It’s not that tidy, it’s kind of lived in and nice. Over by the window, there’s a sketchbook, the pages ruffled in the breeze, so I can’t see what he’s been drawing.

He slides the window a bit further up, and I stick one leg over the windowsill, and try to pull the other one over. I teeter for a little bit, but make it safely. Then I make the mistake of looking down. I can see all the way down because there seems to be a lot of holes in this fire escape, and the bits that aren’t holes are mostly rust. But I’ve got this, I can do walking (let’s not remember the times I can’t). I keep one hand on the wall, and try and stride purposefully along, but I’m doing these teeny little steps and when the metal lets out a kind of squawk, so do I.

I turn back for a second, and he’s got his head stuck out of the window watching. And yes, he’s filming it, just in case my plunge to the death can earn him a few dollars. I’d make a rude gesture but I’m afraid of moving too much.

It’s not that far, so even at my glacial pace I make it to the window pretty quickly, then I wedge my fingers in the crack of the window and heave it up. I don’t get it very far, but I just want in by then, so I squeeze through, dangling half way for longer than is elegant, with just my backside and legs waving out of the window. I can definitely hear a snort and I really hope this doesn’t get uploaded anywhere.

Then I’m in, my head all red and sweaty from being upside down, and there’s my keys, on the shelf by the door, right where I’d put them for safekeeping while I cleared up my broken table. I grab them up, and I pull the window open, and I make my way back out.

Yes, you heard me.

I squeeze out of my own window, and I edge along the fire escape as it groans even louder, and the whole time Steve is watching me and doing that thing where you laugh so hard you can’t make any noise, so he’s just clutching at his chest and gasping. Thanks for all the help.

When I get to his apartment, he’s blocking half the window, hanging out of it. I edge past him, trying to get my leg over the sill, but there’s not much room so I end up tumbling through, and slowly sliding headfirst across his floor as my legs come into the room. But I made it. I’m here.

‘You know…’ he’s squeaking, as he tries to catch his breath. ‘You could…. Oh god…. You….’ His hands are on his knees and his face is purple. I pull myself to sitting and wonder if I need to do the Heimlich manoeuvre, or CPR, or give him a shot from an epi-pen or something. Finally he manages to heave in enough air and stands up, wiping his eyes.

‘You could just have opened your door.’

---

@patzammit @melconnor2007 @avengerscompound @kittyslove @badassbaker @phoenix21love @lbouvet @bellenuit45 @prplprincez @gingerrootknits @pineapplebooboo @feelmyroarrrr @avengerofyourheart @eyeofdionysus @hellomissmabel @learisa @mitra-k-w @imhereforbvcky @shaddixlife @supernatural-girl97 @iwillbeinmynest @amrita31199 @algud @whatsbetterthanfantasy @pixierox101 @edward-lover18 @madcheshire89 @heartfulloffandoms @chipilerendi @kenya-17 @mckorni32843 @amandarosemire @rda89 @nyxveracity @sea040561 @mrsalh32611 @ruinerofcheese @callmebucky-doll @vintagepigeon @bubbasmom @sassycanoodler @ladylorelitany @natcad @thisismysecrethappyplace @geeksareunique @mywinterwolf @moderapoppins @rinthehufflepuff @holyfuckloueh @onebatch--twobatch @algud

#marvel au #steve rogers fic #steve rogers au #steve rogers x ofc

108 notes · View notes

uncultureddirt · 5 years ago

Text

Day Zero (Part 4/4) - Park Jisung (Post Apoc!AU)

~REQUESTED~

“It’s cold without you here”

Warnings: Language, angst, violence

It was quiet when you woke up. It always was. Your cot was beneath the only window in the room, which allowed the sun to reach you the moment it began to emerge. Your eyes would slowly open and you’d stare at the ceiling, noting every crack in the old grey paint. Some mornings you’d wake up confused, forgetting where you were, wondering why Jisung wasn’t next to you, breathing too loudly, and holding you tightly. You just couldn’t get used to the empty space beside you.

“Good morning y/n,” your glum mood was interrupted by Rosalee. She was an older woman, probably somewhere in her mid-sixties. She was the head director of the center you resided in. Rosalee was a kind woman; her heart was warm and inviting. When she spoke her voice was smooth and gentle, like drizzling honey. She welcomed you in and tended to you as you needed it. You always appreciated everything she did for you, but you were unable to express your gratitude the way you wanted. Your sadness was overpowering, and you could only muster up the strength to respond with few words.

She sat on the edge of your bed wrapped up in a faded pink cable-knit sweater. She was a tough woman, despite her soft and delicate appearance. Rosalee had escaped the claws of Tartix at the beginning of Day Zero, losing her only two daughters during her time spent there. Once she was on her own, she founded a center for children who were alone or lost during apocalyptic times. There were a couple of branches scattered relatively close, the main facility being about two hours away on foot. The branch you were in was a small low profile building, but it was under intense security, ensuring the safety of its inhabitants.

“Some of the girls are cooking breakfast if you want to help.” She smiled and got up. She never expected anything in return from her kindness. She was one of those genuine people who need not receive a ‘thank you’ for their charitable actions. You watched her small frame move into the front room and thought about her offer. After deciding you would join them in the kitchen, you lifted yourself out of bed and pulled up the blanket, fixing it nicely.

Walking through the large room quietly, you were cautious not to disturb any of the younger kids who were still asleep. You were wearing one of Jisungs big flannels. When you first arrived Rosalee urged you to throw it out as it was covered in ash and blood. However, after seeing your emotional attachment to the old flannel she washed it and returned it to you.

“I hope he finds you.” She had said when handing over the freshly cleaned shirt.

You walked into the kitchen to find two of the girls around your age working. Both of them were nice, and even though you kept to yourself most of the time, you liked them. One girl, the freckled one with long red hair heard you enter and looked up.

“Y/n, hey!” said Emi.

“Hi,” you smiled lightly. Everyone at the facility understood that trauma caused by the apocalypse varied from person to person, so they never held your quiet manner against you.

You sat at the counter and began to talk, “You guys need any help?”

“No, we’re just about done. Thanks though,” the taller girl with her head shaved, Zola, replied.

You looked down and let the sound of oil popping in the pans fill your ears. The girls began talking again, occasionally asking you questions and bringing you into the conversation. It was hard to occupy yourself when your mind was stuck on him. Each passing day reminded you how alone you felt. What hurt most was the lack of closure. You didn’t even know if he was still alive. You clutched the edges of his flannel as you thought. The sadness would hit you randomly, and apparently, it decided to strike then and there.

“Y/n, you okay?” Zola sat next to you, “How long has it been today?”

“Almost two years,” you paused and rested your chin on your hand, “I don’t think he’s coming.”

“No, come on, don’t say that. He loves you and he is out there. Fate will slowly bring you two back together. Okay? Trust me. He is looking for you.”

You soon felt sorry. Zola and Emi had both went through their own set of trauma. They lost their families and had endured their own pain. They were always kind to you, even when you could not look them in the eyes to say hello. You felt embarrassed, how could you be so weak when everyone else seemed so strong? You held your breath as you felt yourself begin to cry. Reaching out her arms, Zola hugged you. Within seconds Emi came over from the sink to hug you as well.

“Thank you,” you cried, and you meant it.

Jisung breathed heavily as he ducked his head under the dense shrubbery.

“Which way’d you see him go?” a voice called out.

“I thought he came over here,” another replied.

He clutched his gun and the cans of food he had just stolen, closing his eyes to internally beg to no one in particular.

‘Pass. Walk past me. Pass.’

His heart was beating loudly, though not out of anxiety. He wasn’t scared anymore; he was tired. This was routine for Jisung. Today, he timed his mission poorly. Right as he was escaping from a window, arms full of goods, the family whose home he had ransacked returned home. Jisung was forced to sprint. He would never let himself get close to the arms of The Reaper. His will to survive was depended on one thing, and that was you.

“No, let’s try back over there,” the first voice called back.

Jisung exhaled deeply. Relief. They were moving away. After waiting a couple of moments, he emerged from the greenery. In the past two years, things had changed, even if only a bit. He was slightly taller and his shoulders broader. His hair was longer now, almost covering his eyes, though still black against his tanned skin. Beneath his changed physical appearance, he remained the same at heart. The biggest change was that he had a new best friend. Thievery.

Thievery slightly hardened Jisung. He knew it did. It made him selfish, forcing him to dehumanize those he was taking from. He wanted to survive. He needed to. And if stealing was the only way, he had to do it.

He began to walk to what he deemed as, ‘his base’. It was a small clearing beneath a useless bridge where he stashed his items. It was hardly a ‘home’, so he wouldn’t refer to it as such. He rarely slept there anyway. Conditions under an old bridge are commonly dark, damp, and musty, and his bridge was no exception. Usually, he’d crash wherever he found himself tired. As long as he picked a spot where he was hidden from a passerby’s view, he’d sleep in abandoned buildings, under trees, old cars...

But he refused to make a ‘home’ out of his ‘sleep spots’. They didn’t feel like ‘home’ without you.

On his way over he felt his foot kick something hard. Jisung looked down to find a tiny handheld radio. It was coated in dirt, and most likely broken. Regardless, Jisung took it. During an apocalypse, kleptomania is arguably justified. When you have nothing, you’ll take anything that might help you survive.

He placed his new items in his collection and then sat down next to one of the piles. Leaning his head back, he placed a hand on his upper thigh. After digging out the bullet with a pocket knife, the skin never healed correctly. He was left with a mangled scar, and it ached when he aggravated his leg muscle excessively. A scar. A collection of recovered skin, sprinkled with tiny nerve endings desperately trying to hide a wound. Jisung’s body was covered in scars. From the thick one on his thigh to the tiny ones etched over his hands and chest, and to the deep one that severed his heart.

Opening his eyes, he decided to check out the radio, dusting off the film of dirt. He flipped it over and examined the back.

“No batteries. Nice.” he rolled his eyes and looked around his stash. He scanned the shelves and piles until he found what he was looking for.

Unscrewing the bottom of a flashlight, he shook out two D batteries.

After reinserting the batteries into the radio, he began fumbling with the buttons. He jumped slightly at the static sound which pierced through the silence of his base, reverberating off the walls. As he flipped through the stations, he silently wondered whose hands touched the dials before his own. ‘Where are they now?’ Oh, and he wished for the painful white noise to subside.

“Y/n.” You were awoken to the sound of a soft whisper. Rosalee looked down at you with her kind eyes. She was wearing a backpack and a baseball cap. You noticed the tiny pieces of silver that poked out the sides of the hat, framing her face gently. She began speaking, quietly though, being cautious not to wake anyone else up, “I’m leaving for a couple days. I guess there’s an issue up at the main facility.”

“An issue at the main facility?” You sat up and rubbed your eyes, slowly comprehending her words.

“Yes. There was an external security violation,” she paused noticing you grow tense, “It’s nothing to worry about. The trespasser is non-threatening. I’m just being called over to direct what we should do with them. While I’m gone, tend to my hydrangeas please.”

“Hydrangeas? Like the flower?” You were confused, why were said plants being prioritized? If they were so important, why hadn’t you heard about them before? You waited for her to change your orders you to a more serious, grueling task, but she left it at that. Her hydrangeas.

“Yes, they’re in my office. They get very thirsty, so I’ll need you to water them and make sure they get sunlight, it can get dark in there sometimes.”

You nodded.

“Okay,” she smiled and began to walk away, “I will see you soon.”

After she exited, you laid in your bed and sifted through the information she gave you. You were staring at the ceiling as you had countless times before, but this time your mind wasn't concerned with the cracks or the old grey paint.

‘What the hell is the deal with the damn flowers?’

Later that day you found yourself sitting outside. Your gaze glided across the metal fence which stood tall, closing you in. It seemed odd to know that you were grounded to one side of the fence and do nothing about it. Sure, the wall of metal surrounding you was there for your safety, to keep the rest of the world on the outside. But it felt funny. The same fence lies around the Tartix base to keep the inside world in.

Leaning back slightly, you rested your back against the building. It felt cool on your skin. You closed your eyes, feeling the wind brushing against you and listened to the sound of peace. The lull of serenity.

“Oh shoot,” you exclaimed, disrupting the silence, “The flowers.” Quickly rising, you made your way inside.

The walls in the narrow hallway to Rosalee’s office were painted a shy shade of blue, appearing almost white in the faint daylight. The window at the far end of the hall was the only source of light, and if you had arrived any later you would have struggled to find your way. You soon found yourself in front of what you knew to be her office, though you’d never been inside.

“Woah. Hello Hydrangeas,” you mumbled as you assessed the room around you.

The office was small and dim. A wood table sat in the middle, paired with a chair home to a faded pink cushion. The table was stacked high with books, photographs, and papers. Turning to the wall on your left, you located a large window next to a tall bookcase. You wouldn’t have known it was a window hadn’t you moved the sheets. They were pinned up with tacks, concealing the window completely. And right in front of the window was a large light, hung over a tiny table of lively flowers.

“So this is how they get their light, huh?” you spoke aloud to yourself.

Crouching down, you observed the plants. There were four pots, each with a large bulbous plant, one pink, one white, and two sister shades of both purple and blue. In a world often depleted of color and life, seeing such vibrant colors was almost supernatural. You tilted your head as you admired them, falling in complete awe. After shaking yourself out of your wonder-struck trance, you noticed a tiny note taped to the light.

‘INSTRUCTIONS FOR MY GARDEN’

You smiled at the word ‘garden’. The table of four plants was humble, but Rosalee cared about it. It was a patch of life in a meadow of chaos. It was her garden.

“Be… days.”

“Huh?” Jisung quickly awoke.

Like a pair of sharp scissors slicing a clean line in a fresh piece of paper, the sound of static tore through his silent morning, waking Jisung up. Digging in his coat pocket, he pulled out the tiny radio he had recently claimed as his own. He stared at it, waiting for it to speak once more.

“Hello? You there?” The voice was that of a woman. Her sentence came through clearer this time. He could make out words and hear her tone. Something about her smooth voice alleviated his restless soul.

“He… oh?” Static again. Once a couple of minutes went by, he sighed and put the radio back into his pocket. He was still tired, and it was still early; he was going to go back to sleep.

“Yes. Yes. I’m here.” It was a man's voice this time.

Jisung jolted up and pulled the radio back out, staring at it. Why was he so eager to hear someone’s voice? Why was it so… comforting? Maybe it was the voice. Maybe it was how the silence was finally gone. Or maybe it was the reminder he wasn’t alone.

“Okay. Did you get that? I’ll… an issue at…” Jisung cringed each time the static broke in, interrupting the flow of the conversation. “I left food in the cellar. Enough for… Send one of the boys over when you’re low…”

‘Food.’ Jisung smiled excitedly. ‘Food.’

“How long?”

“A couple days. I’ll keep in touch. Over.”

“Over.”

Static.

He sat for a while, pushing the buttons on the faded black device. He longed for the sound of a voice, any voice. Loneliness swarmed him like summer gnats. Even when he tried to swat it away, it returned and lingered, hitting him in different places, driving him nuts. He longed for company, for your company.

“Hello?” It was the man's voice again, “Hello?”

Jisung closed his eyes and began listening again. ‘It’s like TV,’ he thought to himself, smiling lightly.

“Hello? I need to send someone over later for…”

“Yes?” The soothing voice returned.

“Where should I send them?”

Jisung sat up and opened his eyes. These woods were vast, but he knew them well. He pushed his hand through his hair, listening as the women drew out a road map, pointing to where her base was.

“...and have them end near full rock circle…”

“Full rock circle. I can get there,” he whispered, almost like he was replying.

Food. Base.

Jisung put the radio down and stood up. He had fallen asleep in a van he often slept in because of the close distance to his ‘stash’. He then began to move, being wary of his surroundings.

Something was stirring in Jisung. Some hate that had boiled over his time in solitude. He had lost everything; all he had had been taken and pried from his grasp. Every waking moment reiterated the pain of his existence. What he owned remained hidden in a crack of cement. It was sad. He felt pathetic.

In moments like those, he found refuge in his only pastime. The only thing that could help him escape the depreciating feeling. Thievery.

Jisung wanted to steal.

He felt like he had to.

It had been three days since you saw Rosalee and three days that you been caring for her tiny garden.

You were sitting at her desk, letting your body sink into her soft pink chair. Your eyes danced over the papers, book covers, and photographs. The photos in the stack at the edge of her table were faded slightly and folded at the edges, almost as if they were frequently shuffled through.

Lifting the stack, you began to flip through them. The first image depicted a tiny girl standing in front of a building. Her arms were positioned outwards, spread wide, like she was showing off the cozy-looking house and rectangular plot of soil behind her. You tilted your head, flipping to the next photo. It was the same girl, only this time taller, her hair now reaching her elbows. She stood in the same spot, smiling again, the patch of dirt now full of green sprouts. You continued to flip through the photos; most of them were of two girls, one being the girl in the first two pictures, and what you recognized to be Rosalee. Assuming they were her daughters you began to imagine Rosalee as a mother until you were met with the last photo. The unfamiliar girl was older now. Her smile was still warm, and it visibly resembled Rosalee’s. She was not accompanied by dirt, nor by stems with small buds hanging off the edge. Instead, there was a crowd of violet, blue, white, pink and every color in between.

“Hydrangeas,” you whispered.

You grabbed the first photo from the stack and placed it beside the last one. Studying the girl, you noticed how she aged slightly, though her smile remained just as lovely and radiant as it had been before. You lifted the photos up and brought them towards the window, so you could see them in the light. As you gently moved the image, and the light penetrated the picture, you noticed something scribbled on the undersides of each.

Flipping over the first one, you read the words under your breath.

‘Mommy and I planted today. I want the flowers to bloom now. She says I have to wait for it to be pretty and that good things take time. I don’t get what that means. Also, I don't like the dirt, it's not pretty. Mommy said our flowers will be pretty. She said this is our garden.’

It was written in childish print, words were misspelled and letters looped messily. For some reason, there was a lump in your throat. Slowly, you turned over the next photo and began to read again.

‘Look at our garden!!!!!! It's so pretty. Mommy is right. Good things do take time. The pink one is my favorite, Mommy says she agrees.’ You stopped reading the swirly childish print and flipped back over the photo. Grazing your finger over the tiny girls face, tears welled up in your eyes.

“Both of my daughters were taken,” you remembered Rosalee’s words pouring out from her like blood dripping from a wound. You remembered the pain in her face as she spoke and the way her voice became choppy.

The first tear slipped down your face as you stared at the girl whose heart was so happy and smile was so warm. Suddenly, you couldn’t hold back your emotions. You dropped down in front of the flowers and cried. You cried for Rosalee’s daughters and the golden future they’d never see. You cried for their garden, which had been reduced to four pots in a dark room. You cried that the evil arms of Tartix stole a mother’s beloved children. You cried that good things take time. You cried hard for your world. You clutched the photographs to your chest tightly, your vision clogging with tears.

This garden was not for Rosalee. It was for the girl who was promised a garden, a garden full of love and rich in color.

It was all planned out. Calculated cleanly. Organized perfectly. Jisung knew how to go about the task. He was ready to steal.

As the sky turned black, Jisung found himself stationed near the high metal fence. He felt like a creature, a beast prepared to stalk his prey. Though being conditioned to steal, there was a deep pang of worry and guilt within him. He wasn’t nervous. He was upset. Upset that Day Zero had degraded him to such filth. Once running through the plan a few more times, he decided it was time.

He climbed his way over the fence, taking out a pair of cutting pliers to cut the jagged barbed wire on top. Jisung then jumped down, landing skillfully on the balls of his feet. The dirt lightly thudded beneath him, but not loud enough to draw any attention towards the intruder.

Entering a field he wasn’t familiar with always got his adrenaline pumping. It made his thoughts race.

‘You’re the odd man out; you’re the reason the fence lay high and security holds weapons. You’re the glint in the shadows and the gentle rustle of leaves. It’s your footprint stamped in the wet dirt and it’s your fault there’s empty space where items belong. You’re a thief.’

He made his way towards the building, staying pinched to any available walls. He moved through the night swiftly, a master at traveling in the darkness.

‘Shit.’ his brain yelled loudly. Jisung stopped his movements. A figure was sitting near the building. ‘What the fuck is someone doing outside right now?’

Jisung moved his hand into his pocket, wrapping his hand around a metal grip. Not to fire. Only to scare.

He moved towards the silhouette, silencing his breath, absorbing his presence into the night. A fraction of a second later, he grabbed the person’s neck, placing the gun against their throat.

They became you, and you began to scream.

‘Fuck.’

The barrel was cold against your neck. Your mind began to race, and you did the one thing you could think to do.

Scream.

You yelled out for help repeatedly, kicking violently and squirming aggressively.

The air getting to you was limited. The person's arm tightened as he pressed the gun deeper into your neck. Right as you thought you would stop breathing completely, they released you, your body falling sideways. You were coughing wildly as the world around you spun.

“Y/n?” the voice was shaking and quiet. It was barely a whisper, but you heard it as clear as day. The hair on your neck stood up as your heart took off, catching up to the panting of your breath.

‘No. I’m imagining things. I must be.’

You couldn't turn around; there was something holding you back from turning around. You tried to convince yourself it wasn’t real; it wasn’t him. While you tried to rationalize your thoughts and regain your balance, you heard yelling, and the sound of a body hitting the ground.

“23! He has a number! Shoot! Now!”

‘23… 23. 23. 23. 23. 23. 23. 23. 23.’

Your body began to tremble as your mind flashed through memories. You saw him coming towards you at the door, hiding his own fear behind a rifle. You saw him holding you under the cold sky, wiping your tears. You saw him kissing you for the first time, setting fire to every part of your tired heart. You saw him promising you he’d be okay and promising you he’d come back. You heard him tell you he loved you. You began to cry and call out his name. You got up quickly, running sloppily over to the unit of guards holding guns to him.

“DON’T SHOOT!”

“Y/n stay back! He’s dangerous!”

“NO! NO! NO! JISUNG! IT’S ME! I’M HERE!” Your lungs were ablaze and your eyes were soaked. You saw him lying there on the ground, helplessly fighting for his life. The guards wouldn’t shoot with you nearby. They couldn’t.

“Y/n? Y/N?” He began resisting with an increased amount of strength. His neck vein bulging as he kicked his legs tirelessly.

Forcing your way through the wall of tall men, you thrust yourself on top of him.

“Get off of him! Immediately!” guard commanded.

They were shouting, but you didn’t hear it. The loudness of the world had smudged and blurred behind you. All you could see was his face, coated in dirt and streaked with tears.

“Holy shit. You’re here.” he breathed up at you.

“Holy shit. You almost killed me.”

You two stood up together and held each other defensively. All the guards backed away, seeing by your interactions he wasn’t a threat. You held on to Jisung tightly, keeping your face tucked into his chest. You were crying more, being hugged by him, and silently prayed that you weren’t dreaming.

He stroked your hair as complete disorder and confusion unfolded around you. Kids began pouring outside, waking up to the sound of the danger alarm. Security guards stood confused, dropping their guns to their sides. Jisung kissed your head over and over again.

You looked up at him and whispered, “Don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t,” he replied. He stared down at your face and spoke softly, “God, I missed you.” He then placed a hand on your cheek and leaned down, kissing you deeply.

There was something unfathomable about the experience. Something you couldn’t explain. You felt as if you were floating over your body, watching yourself rediscover your heart. You watched as your body warmed and your mind cooled. You watched the horizon as you stood on top of the hill, tired from pushing the boulder. You watched a vibrant garden full of light grew around you. You watched it all come together because he was there.

As you slowly pulled away a picture flashed in your mind. A colorful picture with misspelled words that messily danced.

Looking up at Jisung, you saw the warm colors around him.

He wiped your tears as you smiled at him. You couldn’t wait to thank your friends for being patient with you and tell Rosalee how much you’ve truly appreciated everything she’s done.

Things were going to be okay.

‘Good things take time.’

And they did. They always do.

Concluded!

71 notes · View notes