#i swear every year i hear people cry about how much they hate survival shows

[themthistles]

'survival shows are so bad and toxic and exploitative and misleading and biased :(' why are you still watching

[darkmulti]

(Yandere and non con warning)

Def not the only one who wants a 18th century h.c of possessive and controlling, husband!Jungkook x forced wife!reader. Jungkook gets jealous after witnessing another man asking you out and when you come back home at night, he breeds you. Please make it rough and non con. Thank you❤️‍🔥

-> you’re definitely not the only one. I can assure you that I’ve thought about this too many times😫

⚠️: NON CON, YANDERE!JUNGKOOK, Squirting/piss play, Physically, mental and emotional abuse, spit play,

-> sorry for any mistakes

Your parents owned a local bakery store

All the recipes were from your late grandmother

You spent almost all of your time there because you were in charge of everything

The store was under your parents’ name but you were the one running it

Sometimes, you even slept there because it’d be too late to walk home

Your dedication to the bakery made it successful

Although, you were the one doing all the work, you parents took all the credit and money

They weren’t paying you because you’re their child

They don’t need to pay you

“It’s a women’s place.” Your father said

You wanted to go back to school however, your parents laughed in your face

“School aren’t for girls, Y/N. Learn how to cook and clean. That’s all you need to know. Let the men handle everything else.”

You were tired of fighting with them and eventually stopped because they threatened to set you up in an arrange marriage

Now, it was just you and the bakery

You had many loyal customers and recently, one has been coming everyday, at the same time

He’d always buy a loaf of banana bread and if he was in a good mood, a blueberry muffin as well

Then, he’d sit in the corner table and eat two - three slices before getting up and leaving

He’d always leave a tip behind and you always kept it for yourself

One day, he didn’t come and you were surprised

For a year straight, he came and bought the same two things

Now, he hasn’t visited in 4 days

Tonight, you came back home for the first time in a while

Your parents had visited the bakery to collect “their” earnings and told you that you have to go somewhere with them that evening

After closing up and cleaning up, you went home and got ready

Your parents were taking you out for dinner as a treat for all your hard work

You were really excited because they were finally acknowledging your hard work

Once you arrived at the restaurant, your parents lead you to a table that already had three people seated

You immediately recognize one of them

It’s that guy who buys your banana loaf!

You sat in front of him while your parents greeted the two other strangers

“Oh, so this is your daughter? She’s gorgeous! Come here and give me a hug.”

You awkwardly chuckled and got up to hug the middle aged women

“Oh! Where are my manners? My name is Jeon F/N, this is my husband, Jeon F/N and this is our son, Jeon Jungkook. We’re your soon to be in laws!”

You heart dropped to the floor

“I-in laws?” You asked, confused

“Yeah, honey. Is this your first time hearing about this? We’ve been talking to your parents for a while now.”

You snapped your head towards you parents and they looked emotionless

“No, no they didn’t tell me anything.”

Dinner with them was hell

Your parents were talking about your wedding arrangements right in front of you

You didn’t know what to do

You wanted to rebel but then your parents would disown you

Just like that, you’d be homeless with little money to survive

In the end, you’d be paying the heavy price

You looked at Jungkook who was staring at you the whole time

You wondered if he knew about this

Maybe, that’s why he came to the bakery everyday

“Did you know anything about this?” You said loud enough for him to hear

“I did.”

“For how long?”

“Since last year.”

You eyes widen, in shock

You were right!

“Why didn’t you stop it?”

“Why would I stop it when I’m the one who wants it?”

You scrunch your eyebrows, in confusion

“What’re you talking about?”

“Since the first day I met you, I wanted to marry you. I told my parents and now, we’re getting married.”

Now, you were mad

You got up and stormed off, catching everyone’s attention

You walked to the bakery and locked yourself in

Here, you thought your parents were acknowledging you for first time, when they were actually setting you up for a marriage so they don’t have to take care of you

You cried yourself to sleep that night

The next couple of weeks, the bakery was closed due to your wedding

The wedding was spectacular

You would’ve love it if you weren’t being forced into a marriage

After the wedding, Jungkook took your precious virginity

He made sure to pleasure you until you passed out

He was so in love with you

Now, he was finally able to show you how much he loved you

And mark you as his

The next couple of months, he was attached to you

He took over his family’s business and you took over your family’s business

He’d visit you every day at work to check if you’re with another man

He was so paranoid about it, sometimes he’d come by 3 or 4 times to make sure you were not cheating

You thought he missed you and that’s why he kept stopping by (which is half true) however, you had no idea that he was possessive and controlling

You had to learn the hard way

Sometimes, you wouldn’t leave work until midnight

You had so much things to do like preparing for the next day, making a to-do list, making a grocery lists, and cleaning every area of the shop

It’s time consuming, so obviously you finish up pretty late

Jungkook absolutely hates that

Although you stay late in the shop once in a while, he can’t stand it

He wants you to be in his arms every night

Jungkook gets angry when you’re not

This was your fourth time staying out late in the shop and he’s had enough

He couldn’t help but feel paranoid about what you were actually doing in the shop

What if you lied and went on a date with another man?

What if you were running away from him?

Or even worse, what if you were having sex with another guy?

He raced to the bakery and banged on the door, which scared you

You saw that it was him and let him in

“W-what’s wrong?! You scared me!”

“Grab your stuff, we’re going home.”

“But I’m not done yet! I only have a couple more things to do and then I’ll come home. I told you already-”

“I don’t think you fucking heard me!” He yelled and grabbed your hair

“Grab your shit, we are leaving right now.”

He pushed you towards the counter and crossed his arms

You let your breath out in shock but scurry to get your stuff

You’ve never seen him like this and it terrified you

“I have my stuff.”

“Good, let’s go.”

He helped you lock the door and wrapped his arm around your waist

The walk home was silent

You were scared shitless

All you wanted to do was run back into your parents’ house

But he didn’t let you move an inch away from him

Once you got home, he started pushing you around and arguing some more

“Jungkook, I told you this afternoon when you came to visit! I said I have to stay late so I don’t have to stress myself out in the morning!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me! Who were you fucking seeing?!” He screamed, frightening you more

“No one! I swear, no one!” You whimpered

He corned you into your shared room and locked the door

“Jungkook, I swear! Nothing happened!”

He didn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth

It was like you were talking to a wall

He pushed you onto the bed and stripped you naked

Jungkook pushed two fingers into your cunt and pretended to scoop out cum

“If nothing happened, why is your cunt full of cum?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t have sex with anyone!”

You weren’t very educated about sex, so Jungkook had an advantage

You began apologizing even though you didn’t have sex with anyone

You just wanted peace between you two

“I’m sorry! I didn’t cheat or anything, but I’m sorry if it hurt you! I really am!”

Jungkook slapped you and spat on your face

“Dirty slut. Telling me that you’re not cheating but still apologizing.”

“No! Please, I didn’t do anything!”

Jungkook pulled his cock out and shoved it in without warning

You were still new to sex so when he didn’t let you adjust, you automatically started screaming and crying

“Please, slower!” You cried, holding onto his biceps as he went faster and deeper

“Stop! Please!”

Jungkook loved the sound of his balls clapping against your ass

It honestly made him harder

All night, he was on top, fucking you hard

Your legs were spread apart, tears in your eyes and sweat dripping down your forehead

You looked like a hot mess

And he loved every second of it

“Mmh- Jungkook!”

You squirted around him and had a trembling orgasm

You couldn’t stop releasing your liquids on him and he couldn’t stop pounding you

The bed sheet was soaked by the end of it

He pushed his cock deep inside and came

After Jungkook fell asleep, you cried for while

How were you supposed to tolerate him for the rest of your life?

The next morning

You woke up in severe pain

You lower region was begging for some pain relief

But there was nothing you could do about it

Jungkook was still sleeping next to you

You decided to leave before he wakes up

After getting ready by leaning on everything, you slowly walked to town

When you arrived at the bakery, you saw a big “for sale” sign

You panicked and went inside the store, only to be greeted by your parents

“Mother, father! Why is there a “for sale” sign on the bakery?”

You parents looked at each other in disappointment

“You see, we have to explain the obvious to your daughter. Be grateful that someone willingly married your idiot daughter.” Your father said before walking out

His words did hurt but you cared about the bakery more than your father

“Why’re you selling it, mother? Can you not afford it anymore? Why-”

“Shut up, Y/N! You’re married now, you have wifely duties. You don’t have time for this bakery so the best option is to sell it.”

Your world fell apart right before your eyes

“But mother-”

“Save it. You already made your father upset. I’m warning you now, you don’t want to get on my bad side.”

You cried the whole morning

After you opened the bakery, lots of people gathered in line

All breads, cakes and muffins were going on sale

After you served the people in line, you went up to the tables and took their order

After you served them, a regular customer who was sitting alone gestured you to come over

You went over to the man and asked him if he needed anything

He told you to take a seat and accompany him

Since the crowd died down, you sat down in front of him

“You look a bit stressed and sad. What’s on your mind?”

You were touched by his words

Finally, someone cared about you

You told him you were upset about the bakery closing

He understood and even offered money to help you keep it open

You were flattered but didn’t accept the money

“Money’s not a problem, my parents just don’t want to keep this shop open.”

You talked with this guy for a couple of hours

Although this was your first time talking to him, you talked to him like he was your best friend

When closing time came around, he got up and asked you out on a date

You didn’t know what to do

You were married but you really liked this guy

You were considering saying yes when someone pulled his shoulder back and punched him across the face

“Jungkook! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“You think I didn’t see that?! I saw it all. I saw you flirting with my wife for three hours straight and then asking her out on a date!”

Jungkook beat the crap out of the guy and pushed him outside

He then came back in the store, looking at you with devil eyes

“Yesterday’s punishment clearly wasn’t enough.”

The entire way home, he was yelling at you, slapping you, spitting on you, pulling your hair, pushing you to the ground and choking you

You were crying the whole time, apologizing over and over

When you arrived home, he seriously had no mercy on you

No foreplay, no lube, no adjusting

Just a raw, thick cock being forced into you

You were begging him to let you go but tonight, nothing was going to stop him

He was moving his hips insanely fast, not giving you enough time to breathe

You were choking on your own sobs

“Jungkook, please no! I’m sorry!”

“Why did you hesitate to deny his offer? You are a married fucking women!” With each word a hard thrust followed, knocking all the air out of you

“Answer me! Is he better than me? Does he take care of you? Does he provide money for you? TELL ME!” He was yelling so loudly, it was making you cry harder

“N-no, he doesn’t. He was just the first person to care about me.” You whispered the last sentence but, Jungkook was able to make it out

“Are you saying that I don’t care about you?”

He got more aggressive and fastened his pace

“Tell me, Y/N! Do you think that I don’t care about you?!”

You couldn’t answer him because you couldn’t catch your breath

He was going too fast and you were crying so hard, you couldn’t breathe

Jungkook noticed how much you were struggling and added onto your struggle by holding your neck down

“Apologize, right now Jeon Y/N!”

You softly apologize but it wasn’t good enough for him

He lifted your legs a little, giving him better access and fucked you till you squirted

This time you sobbed your apology and begged for forgiveness

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook! It’ll never— ah! It’ll never happen again! I’m so sorry! Please for- forgive me for my dumb m-mistake. Please! I’m begging you.” You held onto the bed sheet, praying he would stop

He huskily growled and pushed his cock in deep

“For the next 9 months you’ll be swelling with my baby. Now, everyone can back off.”

He shot his hot cum right into you, filling you up to the rim

Sorry for any mistakes. It’s 3:41am 😄

[boldlyanxious]

As you Wish

Jasonette July prompt 20: then perish

July masterlist

All masterlist

Jason was traveling around but he would still hear reports from home whenever anything major happened. He had never intended to stay away but nothing had ever brought him back. He had a great love but he stopped hearing from her years ago. He left to make enough money to keep her safe but today was the first time in a long time he heard anything about her.

It was a major Headline when the French King, Hawkmoth decided that his son would marry a commoner. They were pictured together and he could see his Marinette there with Prince Adrien. She was even more beautiful than he remembered and he found he could not keep himself away. He had to find out why he had not heard from her in 5 years and now she would be marrying someone else. Maybe it was never about the money he could make and she loved being called Princess Marinette.

---

Marinette despised being a princess. There were too many rules to follow. Adrien seemed nice enough so she could not complain about that. He was skilled and handsome. Exactly the man that most of the maidens in the kingdom wanted to marry. She always had to watch out for those who would hate her for her new status. King Hawkmoth was the one calling all the shots and Prince Adrien went along with all his decrees because he wanted to make him happy. She wished she had met him before the death of his mother. The wistful tone he used when he spoke of her made her think that things had been much different when she was alive.

As much as this life was every girl’s dream, Marinette longed for escape. She would often slip away to quiet places to draw and dream of the quiet life she was supposed to have with Jason. She was going to be a seamstress and he was going to join the Brute Squad. The leader already was impressed with his skills even though he had only worked as a farmer. He thought Jason would do well and could maybe even help with skills training.

She looked down at her sketchbook. She had drawn a very pretty dress but it was much too simple for the garments she was supposed to wear as a princess. But there in the corner was the face of Jason she had drawn, looking back at her. She had been devastated to receive the news of his death. King Hawkmoth had explained everything that had happened after finding out the ship full of trainees for the Brute Squad had been found. No one was left. It was years later that he suggested to her as a bride for his son. It would be an event that was celebrated throughout the kingdom.

---

Jason didn’t know what was happening. He had been so close to seeing Marinette again. He watched her and she was completely at peace and all alone. He couldn’t help but be stunned at her beauty even from far away. But as he watched, he realized she was wiping away tears. He wondered what had happened that would make her cry. He wished he could wipe away her tears and keep her from ever feeling that way again. He was preparing himself to rush over there and find out what was wrong. He knew it was wrong to hope that she would fall into his arms and give up her royal dreams but his heart and arms ached with the desire.

But while she sat there she was attacked. She was barely able to get out half a scream before the sound stopped and she collapsed. One of the 3 carried her unconscious form away onto a ship. He followed hoping to find a way to protect his love, even if she would eventually leave him. He could not allow anything to happen to her. He knew he would sacrifice his own happiness to protect her; the world was a better place with her in it.

---

Marinette came to and looked around her. She didn’t know what was going on and she struggled to remember. Lila seemed to think that if she killed Marinette she would get to become the princess and marry Prince Adrien. Marinette didn’t know if that was true. She had only agreed because the King had not given her any other option. He told her a young, beautiful girl like her could not go the rest of her life unmarried. He had many merchants and artisans ask after her to see if she could be married since she no longer had relatives to decide for her. The King made it a law that royalty could choose to marry a commoner, nothing was said about how the other person could refuse. Prince Adrien did not lack for ladies of higher rank wishing to marry him as she continually was told. She suspected that there was some other reason the King had chosen her, likely that she had no other options and therefore would be easier to control. She had no family or money to protect herself.

Lila turned to argue with Dick and Tim about what would happen to her. She apparently had not told them everything about her plans. Marinette knew Lila would not believe that she would prefer to not marry Adrien if she just had a way to get away from Paris. They argued about how to get a war started with Gotham and just how far Lila was willing to go to get her prince. Marinette allowed her head to thunk back against the side of the ship. She closed her eyes as she did at some point every day and thought of her lost love.

Some days she could sink fully into her daydream and remember all their plans of life together. She had become a clothing maker after her parents had died. It was one of the few things she had the ability to do to make money. Jason was a farmer and he would farm her land and he raised sheep to turn to wool. After a while they began working together. She would spin his wool to make cloth and he would bring her the food she needed. Little changes over time where he complained about his bread so the next day she made him bread and a lunch to take while farming. They went from seeing each other only for business to nearly every day. Marinette asked if he would bring her water from the well. When he returned with it he stepped close to her and looked in her eyes.

“As you wish,” he whispered.

She knew right then that he would do anything for her. But also that she would do anything for him. What had been moments of convenience to help both of them survive alone led to their lives intertwining in ways she never expected. She couldn’t live without him. She was alive and surviving but even 5 years later she ached for missing him.

She pulled herself out of her head to hear her kidnappers arguing again. They sure did that a lot. She looked around when she realized they were arguing about another boat that was following them. Someone who knew she was there and in danger. She watched them for a moment and realized they were all distracted. She knew the water would be icy cold, but this may be her only shot. Even if it was the King's guards coming to rescue her back to their chosen life for her, it would be better than whatever Lila planned for her.

She jumped off the ship and swam away. She was a decent enough swimmer but she wasn’t sure her skills would get her to the other ship with all the waves. Lila called out tauntingly about the shrieking eels in the water. She froze as the words came to life and one of the animals charged her with a wide mouth open showing off a horrifying amount of large teeth. She could smell the breath of the animal and the water splashed against her closed eyes. She was shocked when instead of being bitten she was pulled back out of the water by Dick.

“I suppose you think you are brave,” Lila said cattily.

“Only compared to some,” Marinette replied.

She looked away. It had nothing to do with what had happened. For a brief moment, even when she was in the water she felt closer to Jason. Maybe it was because she almost died. But now she was back here with people who planned be the cause of her death and she felt nothing. She was consumed by the sudden emptiness that she had lived with since the death of her fiance.

---

Jason watched as Marinette swam toward his ship. He was so excited. She would be back with him, in his arms and they could sail away together. Maybe to Gotham. They would not have the life they dreamed but they would be together. But within a few minutes one of the men had dragged her back to the ship. He could see they were headed to the Cliffs of Blüdhaven. He would not manage to over take the ship before they reached them. He would have to climb up after them. Most would not be able to make the climb but he had trained hard in the years he was gone. He would recover her.

By the time he made it to the base of the cliffs they were halfway up with her. He felt sure they had some sort of gadget that made it possible. He could tell she was not climbing herself and it appeared only one was doing so. He hadn’t planned to have any assistance but he was a good climber so he got started right away. He made a very fast start. The bottom had a lot of rocks to help him get going so it was the middle section and after they reached the top he would have to worry about. He could see where there were more handholds near the top. He would just have to make it that far before they reached the top. He was sure they would cut the rope off when they made it to the top. That is exactly what he would do.

He made it. He was even further up than he expected when the rope slipped from his grasp. He clung tightly to the rocks and made sure he was secure before he continued climbing. He could hear their excited exclamations up there but not what they were saying. Then it got quiet before a voice hollered down.

"Hey, you doing okay?"

"What does it look like?"

He grumbled to himself about the person. That are probably trying to get him to fall.

"I'm gonna drop this rope down to you."

"Wouldn't it be faster if I just jumped off."

"I get what it looks like, but I'm trying to help you."

"Yeah, right."

"I could give you my word as an American."

"No good. I've known too many Americans."

"You have to trust me."

"Actually I don't."

"I swear on the soul of my father Bruce Wayne, you will reach the top alive."

"Okay. Throw me the rope."

Jason climbed up the rest of the way and prepared to face off with the man left to kill him.

---

Marinette was out of breath by the time she got the chance to sit. They dragged her up the cliffs and then they moved on as Tim fought the masked man. They watched as the two fought and then when Tim was knocked out Marinette was blind folded and hands bound so she couldn't see or run from Lila. Dick was left to take care of the masked man and Lila dragged her further along until she sat her down, reminding Marinette with the press of her dagger that she was still in charge.

Marinette waited in silence which was fine with Lila, she liked to talk and be heard. Suddenly the other girl silenced herself and called out that she would kill Marinette if the man took another step.

As they talked and bartered Marinette tried to decide what she wanted to happen. She knew Lila was planning to kill her as part of some plot she had devised but she was no longer sure that the masked man was coming to save her for her own benefit. If push came to shove, she may be better off with Lila than the unknown man who definitely was stronger than her and a skilled fighter.

She listened when the masked man offered his challenge. Lila did live to prove she knew everything so she spent several minutes talking about all the ways she was smarter than him. Marinette couldn’t actually tell what was going on but a moment later she could tell that both of them had completed the challenge and drank from the glasses. Lila had the last laugh. Or her last laugh. She was cackling in victory and then suddenly silent. There was a thump when she fell over, away from the table.

---

Jason carefully removed the blindfold from Marinette and led her away. He knew at some point he would have to return her to her life but he wanted to drag out their time together if he could. He responded to her questions with terse, non-emotional answers. He threw the prince as her rescuer back in her face and she scoffed. He couldn’t believe his ears when she said that she wasn’t marrying the prince because of love.

“The only man I could ever love is dead and there is nothing worse you could do to me.” she said.

Jason looked down at Marinette’s furious eyes as she talked about the love he could never know. He knew she was talking about him and he could see their eyes connect. He was lost in her eyes as he realized she had recognized him. He knew exactly how he would respond. He mentally shook himself to pay attention to her when she was talking. He realized that he may have been mistaken about her recognizing him. She shoved him hard.

“Then perish,” she said venomously.

Jason tumbled down the hill behind him with the force of the shove.

“As..

You..

Wish..”

His last thought tumbled out as he rolled down the hill. It wasn’t until he was at the bottom that he realized she had thrown herself after him. He met her at the bottom of the hill. She could clearly see him now, his mask had fallen off on the way down. He reached for her and she moved to meet him. He pulled her close and she pushed him back towards the ground and kissed him. All should be right now that they were together again.

---

bonus scene:

“Jason, what about the R.O.U.S's?”

“Rodents of unusual size are just called capybaras. They are basically just really big hamsters.”

Taglist

@jasonette-july-event | @theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf | @vixen-uchiha | @trythisagainlove | @trippingovermyfeet | @tbehartoo | @adrestar | @zynna

[peachyteez]

death’s grip ≫ DAY FIVE, YES.

the tiger hybrid managed to escape from south korea’s top illegal hybird ring fights. of course, they didn’t let him go so easily. losing his chasers in a forest, covered in blood—his and others’—he decided to accept his fate of death from his wounds until a female and two other hybrids managed to take him from death’s grip.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @jaeminbluee, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @koasworld, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny, @deep-ocean-dweller, @babydolljo, @ms-starlight

can’t be tagged: @yoongisleftboob

feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to the list! :)

✧ notes: perhaps i kinda teared up while typing this up...

✧ WARNINGS: mentions of killing, death, and blood

back。| next。

“what do you mean, you know?” jiyu asked. she definitely isn’t expecting the news this early in the morning.

“they told me yesterday,” hongjoong explained. “how i almost...died.”

jiyu didn’t say anything, only letting out a small sigh before dryly chuckling. “that would explain why they were so nice yesterday at home.” she did find it strange how seonghwa and yunho were so behaving and nice when they came home the previous evening. 

sensing her shift in mood, hongjoong worried that they had upset her and that the two could end up getting punished because of him. “wait, please don’t punish them—”

jiyu’s eyes widened at his words and she put her hands up in front of her. “woah, woah, woah, it’s okay, hongjoong. i’m not mad nor am i going to punish them,” she reassured. she softly smiled. “they didn't do anything wrong. i was actually trying to find a way and time to tell you without upsetting you, but i guess they beat me to that.”

hongjoong shifted his gaze out to the window. “you, know...they helped me open my eyes a little,” he meekly admitted. intrigued by his words, jiyu took a seat on the chair next to the bed. “i don’t know what they went through, but they seemed to have put their faith in you. i’ll be honest, at first, i didn’t know why—why trust humans again when all they’ve done is inflict both mental and physical pain on you? but...they seemed so earnest to defend you when i asked why you never told me i almost died.”

jiyu intently listened.

“and surprisingly enough, i couldn’t be mad at you for keeping that from me. even though i thought you were trying to defend my former owners by keeping my potential death a secret. i think deep down, i had unconsciously given you my trust a long time ago. i was just too prideful to admit or acknowledge it.”

jiyu licked her lips before carefully explaining her intentions. “you had just woken up a few days ago and i didn't want to suddenly drop the bomb on you that you were literally teetering between life and death. you could’ve gotten too emotional to think rationally and hurt yourself and others on accident...that’s why i kept it,” she slowly reached up and gently rested her hand on his head. he didn't flinch away. “but i guess, in a way, i was trying to defend humans, too. it would’ve been hypocritical of me to tell you that you almost died from humans when i’ve been telling you that there’s good ones out there,” she wryly smiled. 

“but never forget. i always had your well-being in mind, hongjoong. i never had reasons to hurt or go against you.”

hearing her confession, along with relief, hongjoong felt a small tug of guilt in his gut. he never told her who he was or where he came from. his presence in her life could be a danger, yet he never said anything. 

he took a deep breath before looking into her eyes. “i used to be part of an illegal hybrid ring fighting group.”

jiyu’s eyes widened again. searching his face for any signs of a joke, she found none. but she did notice his hesitance on continuing. “you don’t have to—”

“no...i think you should know,” he insisted before taking a deep breath. “i was part of the...blood pirates.”

jiyu could’ve sworn she almost fainted right there and then. blood pirates? that one illegal organization that never got caught? the one that illegally collected hybrids for their fights? she had so many questions. how did he escape? where were the blood pirates based?

hongjoong told her everything. “my parents were also part of the blood pirates. but there was a catch...i had to kill them as my final test for my training. i had to kill them...or they would kill all three of us.”

jiyu gasped in horror. hongjoong took a deep breath and continued. “after that, i locked all my emotions away. i lost touch with myself and i just...killed. i killed one after the other with no remorse. i thought that’s how life worked—only the strongest could survive, and that’s how i managed to survive for the past who knows how many years,” his ears drooped in sadness at recalling such chilling memories. “i hated it. the chanting and cheers of the crowd, the look of my opponent’s face right before the life slipped out of their eyes, how my hands were stained red after—” his voice broke with emotion. peering over at his face, jiyu realized he was holding in his sobs.

“i didn’t want to kill them...” he whimpered, staring down at his hands. hands that had once been stained with the blood of his opponents as he fought for his life. “i just fought to live. to see the sunrise the next day. but then i remember that they couldn’t; they couldn’t see the sunrise like i could. they weren't in the basement with me anymore. instead,  they come back in my dreams, and i hear their voices haunting me. i’m a monster. a killer.”

listening to hongjoong and watching him bring his knees up to his chest as he cried, her heart broke. no one should have to go through that. no one should have to fight just to see the next day...no hybrid should ever have to live in fear and constantly think that today might be their last. nor should they ever have to think they were a monster.

before he could react, she stood up and wrapped her arms around him. she rested her chin on his head and comfortingly pat his shoulder. she couldn’t see his face, but she knew he must’ve been surprised with how he had tensed up. 

“you’re not a monster, hongjoong. you did what you had to do to live. anyone would've done that,” she reassured. “it’s in our nature to do whatever it takes to survive. life’s precious, you only get one chance. and i’m sure your...opponents knew, too. it’s not your fault, hongjoong. you’re not a monster or a killer. the guilt you feel for having to take their life—that just shows that you have a heart, feelings,” she peered down at his glossy eyes. “have you ever considered that they might’ve come back to watch over you? rather than haunt you?”

by that point, even jiyu was crying. crying at the thought of how the tiger hybrid had endured so much pain by himself. he had no one by his side to help him. the other hybrids with him had the same goal. to live. befriending each other would’ve made them too emotionally attached to each other to kill. 

feeling her tears land on his cheek, it only prompted his unshed ones to fall. he buried his head in her neck and cried. cried out all of the tears he had for the ones he killed, cried out the despair and hopelessness he’s felt ever since he was old enough to process the world around him. but most importantly, cried at the thought of being finally being safe and away from the bloody, heartless world he came from. 

she held him close. despite being an adult, he seemed so small, so childlike as he hugged her and cried. rocking him from side-to-side, she ran her fingers gently through his hair and whispered comforting words to him. “they’re in a better place, joong. i promise. they’re free from the pain.”

feeling his body shake in her arms from his sobs, it took every ounce of strength for her to not sob along with him. she had to stay strong. she had to keep him grounded. a while had passed; hongjoong’s cries filling the room with jiyu comforting him.

she suddenly stopped combing through his hair. “would you like to come home with me?” 

hongjoong pulled away from her at the question. “w-what?” he sniffled. 

she grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and gently dabbed his tears away. “i know it’s sudden...but would you like to come live with us three?” she asked. “i’m not forcing you to, it’s a hundred percent your decision. i just realized you don’t have anywhere to go after you’re discharged here.”

hongjoong blinked, slowly processing her offer. his heart raced with happiness. he wanted nothing more than to spend his days in her safe presence, to spend his days getting to know seonghwa and yunho. but deep down, he felt something holding him back. 

“b-but the blood p-pirates...” he managed to stutter out. he was terrified of what could happen if they found him again. he didn’t want to endanger three innocent people just because he was selfish and wanted to experience heaven for a while longer.

“don’t worry about them. if they ever show up, i have a lot of connections,” she smiled, a mysterious hint to it. hongjoong grew curious. connections? what kind? who was she?

“besides, if you were alone in the forest that day, they probably presumed you were dead,” she reasoned. “bottom line is...you’ll be safe with me, hongjoong. with us; me, seonghwa, and yunho. i swear on my life. so...what’s your answer?”

hongjoong stared deep into her eyes, trying to find signs of uncertainty—heck, he was even waiting for her to say it was a joke and that she would never adopt him for who he was. but she didn't. she stared back; an unwavering and determined expression. she was dead serious. 

was he ready to start a new life? was he ready to leave his old life behind and start again from scratch with a new family? does he deserve this second chance after all the lives he’s taken?

suddenly, a little voice, as clear as day, rang next to his ear. yes. all of a sudden, it was like every fiber of his being and soul was pushing him to accept. feeling a slight breeze blow past him, he felt at ease. maybe jiyu was right; they were watching out for him, looking over him despite their tragic ending by his own hands. 

“hm, where did that breeze come from?” jiyu frowned, seeing that the window was still closed. she looked back down to the hybrid on the bed in front of her before smiling and extending her hand towards him. “so? will you join us?”

with his ears perking up with a newfound burst of energy and his tail waving around with anticipation at his new future, he slowly reached out with his own hand and clasped her’s. “yes.”

she grinned. “well, seonghwa and yunho will definitely be excited as i am about you joining our family.”

[volturicangetit]

A.V/J.V- Loved at last

Summary: After getting rejected by your imprints, Emmett and Rosalie, you needed a fresh start. So you go to Italy where you meet two interesting vampires. Maybe they can show you what’s it’s like to be loved.

Reqeust: YES/no @rexburn12​  : Where Male Reader Was Banished From La Push For Imprinting On Emmett, and Rosalie They Reject Him Which Almost Kills Him, and Makes Reader Extremely Sad and Reader Moves To Volterra, Italy To Work As A Mechanic. Alec and Jane Smell A Amazing Scent They Follow It To See Their Mate Reader At Home Who Looks Sad Which Makes Them Growl in Anger and It Catches Reader's Attention He Looks At Them, and Imprints On Them Making Him Shocked. Since Imprinting Is A One Time Thing For Shifters.

Warnings: swearing, self hate

Wordcount: 3226

A/N: I’m turning 17 tomorrow ( may 19 )! I can’t really celebrate my birthday but at least I can celebrate it with my parents and siblings. Also I’m born on the same day as Jojo Siwa so that....nice?

PART TWO

MASTERLIST

Saying that you ' hate yourself ' can't even express the amount of disgust you feel towards yourself. You know that it's something you can't control, something that isn't a choice. But still feel like it's your fault that you imprinted on not one, but two vampires. You didn't even know that it was possible to imprint on something that died decades ago. The fact that they both rejected you didn't help. You knew that they wouldn't love you but you were hoping to at least be friends.

" You fucking what? " Rosalie screams at the top of her dead lungs. You flinch as she takes a step towards you, lowering your head. " They can't control it, " Carlisle tries to reason, but Rosalie and Emmett ignore him. You feel Emmet wrap his hands around you and lift you off the ground. Within a second you're outside of the house where he roughly pushes you onto the ground, right into the mud. You sit there on your hands and knees trying to regain yourself which is very fucking difficult when your covered in mud and getting soaked slowly by the rain pouring down on you. It was like the universe wanted you to suffer even more.

" Did you seriously think that we would accept you? You're a fucking dog. " Rosalie says as she and Emmet are standing on their porch. It's only now that you see the contrast between you all. They're standing dry in their expensive house while you're laying in the mud, which comforts you for some odd reason. You stand up quickly, pushes some of the rain of off your face.

" Please, you know I wouldn't have come here if I could just go without you. ". Your voice cracks at every word. You came here vulnerable and onto the land of your enemies. If Sam knows that you're here, he will rip your head off. Emmett shakes his head but doesn't say anything. He can't bring himself to do so. Sure, he wants to scream at you. To yell some words at you he knows he's going to regret but it's like his mind has shut off. Rosalie, on the other hand, can't stop the words from flowing out. " Go away, you disgusting thing. "

You let yourself slide down the side onto the floor of your shower. The water streaming down onto your already burning skin is way too hot, yet you don't care. You don't deserve nice warm showers. No, you deserve scolding hot showers that makes your skin feel like it's going to fall off. A sob breaks out of your body, causing your shoulder to rumble along with it. You tried so hard to stop yourself from crying. But now you let it all out. Every emotion, every pent up bit of anger, every sad thought. It all comes it whether you want it to or not. Whines and groans come out of your mouth along with the sobs. You know the other pack members can hear you, not just crying, but also through your mental bond. Their voices and questions of concern are being blocked out by you. The only thing you can hear if your own sobbing and a dull ringing in your ears.

You don't know how long you've sat in the shower, but you do know that you're going to have a ridiculously high water bill this month. When you get out of the shower and have gotten dressed in a simple pair of sweat pants and a sweater you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You stop in your track and stare at your own reflection. Your face seems foreign to you. Your normally gleeful eyes are now puffy and look so sickly that you might as well be dead. Your lips are broken from all the screaming and biting at them you've done. It looks weird to see yourself look so broken, but then again, it is said that rejection by your imprint is sometimes not even survived. " What's going on? ". You jump a little as you quickly turn around to see Paul standing behind you. He's leaning against the doorframe, glancing between you and the mirror. " Nothing, you lie. ".

" Oh, come one. We can hear your thoughts, remember? " he says as he taps his temple with his pointer finger. You nod, still looking down at the ground. When you remain quiet, Paul sighs and pulls you into a hug. You freeze at first. He never hugged you, or anyone for that matter. " Those bloodsuckers rejected you? ". You nod as you bury your face into his chest. You needed this. A hug, to help ground you and get you back to reality. " They don't deserve you, you know? ".

" I think I...I think I need to go away for a while, " you keep your voice soft while you speak to try and keep it from cracking. Paul nods before he lets his chin rest on top of your head. " How about Italy? The weather is a lot better there. I know some people there, " Paul suggests. You pull him closer to you. Italy. Nice, warm Italy. Away from Emmett and Rosalie, away from the pack. It will hurt like shit, but it's the best for you. A fresh start. A normal life. No vampires living right next door, no pack fights, no drama between Jacob, Bella and Edward. Just you and Italy. " Yeah, it sounds nice, "

---

Two months. Two months without cloudly Forks. It has done you good. Extremely good. You didn't realize how depressed that place made you until you left. The moment you felt the comforting Italian sun hit your skin was the moment you knew you made the right choice. You didn't talk to Paul's friends a lot. You got a place of your own after a couple of weeks, due to how small the town was everyone who was trying to sell their house was practically begging you to buy their house. You picked up your hobby of tinkering again, now using to be a mechanic though. The town needed one so you were happy to oblige. It was refreshing to have new faces around and a new environment. The sadness that once had its grip on your has disappeared, now only present in dark memories.

You pick up an apple that is laying on your kitchen table before making your way out of your house and towards your work. Not many costumers would come in, if at all. A festival is being celebrated in a nearby town. Naturally, almost everyone in the village has gone there to have a party. You didn't want to do that though, be around people and all. Plus this new free time would give you time to catch up with work and make some preparations for the next day. The walk to your work is short, yet you still enjoy it every day. Back in Forks, you hated the sound of the birds singing but here you enjoy it so much. The birds sing a different song here. One of joy instead of sadness.

" Buongiorno, " you say to your coworker as you walk into the store. Your Italian is far from perfect but it's getting better every day. " Come va? " your coworker, Piero, asks. " Bene. And you? ". He just nods at you with a smile before he resumes to fix what looks like a clock. You really couldn't tell though, most things that come to the store for fixing are broken beyond recognition. You sit down at your workspace and take in the mess that is laying before you. You need to clean that, definitely. You have enough time today to do so anyways

Going for a stroll through the city isn't something the twins would normally do but today was an exception. A sudden rainstorm has been hovering over the area, blocking out the sun and allowing them to go outside without fear. That and the fact that most inhabitants of San Cipriano were now in Volterra for the festival. They dressed down, replacing their usual robes with a dress in Jane's case and jeans and a sweater for Alec. They talked about normal things like the new store that just opened up down the block and books they've read. It feels nice to them to feel so normal. Anyone who saw them would think that they are just a brother and sister enjoying the cool afternoon weather and not two vampires who work for the three kings.

" They have this machine that can induce dreams, " Alec says as he tries to explain the plot of ' Inception ' to Jane. She nods as she only half listens to his story, more focussed on watching a group of children play hide and seek on the other side of the road. The two siblings are sitting on a bench right next to the cemetery, ironically enough. " Sounds fascinating, " Janes says.

Alec nods before resuming his explanation. Jane enjoys seeing her brother so happy. They were both way too serious for their age, not having enjoyed their childhood years as they should have. Seeing him so passionate and happy about something surely put a smile on her face. Alec stops his words however when a sudden gust of winds blows a particularly sweet smell towards them. Both siblings look at each other as they inhale the scent. " Apple, " Jane says

" And rust. Delicious, " Alec adds. Jane slowly points towards the direction of your store. Alec nods and stands up from the bench, getting what his sister means. Both twins slowly stroll to your shop, they want to see who this scent is coming from but at the same time are to content to feel any sort of rush.

The sound of a bell ringing notifies you that someone entered the shop. " Un momento! " you call out from the back of the shop. You quickly wipe the oil that has been building up of your hands with a cloth before making your way to the front of the store to help the new costumers out. The moment you lay your eyes on the twins is when the world stops. You'd be lying to say that they aren't beautiful. Every birthmark on their skins seems so perfect that it has had to be placed there by the angels themselves. A sudden rush of adrenaline fills your body. Every detail about them become highlighted. You know this feeling, you know what this means. You didn't think you could imprint again but here you are, imprinting on the twins. Apparently, your wolf seems to have a preference for imprinting on duos. " I...I...Can I.... ". Your mind can't seem to form words at the moment. It's too busy with taking the twins in, to memorise every single thing about them.

The moment your mind starts to get clearer, you can start to smell them. The dry, campfire-like smell that comes of them suddenly starts to make sense. Vampire. Of course, you had to imprint on vampires again. Jane and Alec also caught the hint of dog and forest in your scent, both realizing that they're in deep shit now. They know you're their mate, they didn't need to notify the other on it. The way they both feel this need to protect you and the way your scent has intoxicated them both said enough. " You're our mate, " Jane says softly. Her usually cold and stern voice now sounds honey sweet.

The realisation of the whole situation only seems to be catching up to you now. The whole two months you spent here, trying to rebuild your life and your mental health seems to be for nothing now. They will reject you. Those words seem to float around your head. You shake your head softly, feeling tears pricking up into your eyes. You take a couple of steps back and away from them. " I-I'm sorry. I can't. Not now, " you say before disappearing into the back of the shop and leaving the confused twins behind in the shop.

You can feel your wolf aching under your skin, begging to be let out. You rush out of the store through the backdoor. You chose your place of work strategically, right next to the forest, which you are very thankful for right now. You let your walls down and let the wolf in you come forth. The ache under your skin stops as your shift begins. Within seconds you're in your wolf form. Tall and frightening for most you stand there for a second, looking back at the store before making a run for it and into the forest. You sit there in your own mind, drowning in your own thoughts as the wolf takes control of your body. Normally, you would try to at least have a sliver of self-control, not now, however. Now you want nothing more than to get lost into the woods.

It doesn't feel like your in your own body, it feels like your floating above it. Memories is all your seeing. Rosalie and Emmett screaming at you. The disgusted looks in their eyes and the harsh words them threw at you without a second thought. They'll do the same. You're sure of it. How could a vampire ever love you? How could someone ever love you?

---

Wet grass brushes against your cheek. The prominent smell of dirt and daisies fills your nose. Slowly, you open your eyes. You're laying on your back, which you only realize now. You stare up at the dark sky above you. The sun is long gone. Now it's replaced by the moon and a thousand stars. It must be later than three a.m. Maybe even later. You should probably move and get inside before you catch a cold but you can't bring yourself to do so. You're to mentally and physically drained from your shift earlier this evening. After regaining yourself, you finally find the strength to get up from the grass. Every bone in your body aches as you stand up for the first time in hours. You stretch a little, getting used to your human form again. Slowly but surely you walk to your front door. The warmth that meets you the moment you open your door falls over you like a blanket. Sudden tiredness washes over you. You let out a jawn as you walk over to your living room, reading to crash on your couch.

Instead of an empty couch, you find two vampires sitting on it, the same there were in the shop earlier. " What are you doing on my house? " you ask. Your body fills with adrenaline again. A warm fuzz fills your brain now that you're around your imprints. " I'm Jane, ". You nod at her statement.

" Cool, and I'm very fucking confused about why you're in my house. ". Both twins laugh a little at your joke. " You got humour in you, alright. " Alec says. You nod, slowly walking a little more towards them. You hate that you're so drawn to them. They like us. You stop in your steps. Why could you hear Jane's thoughts? Is this another part of this weird vampire-imprint thing?

" I'm sure that you have some question, " Alec begins. You cut him off before he can finish his sentence thought. " Yeah like why two members of the Volturi are in my house. ". Both look at you with big eyes, confused as to how you know them. You throw your arms up in the air. " Oh come one, I lived in the same town as the Cullens! You guys came over like every other weekend for Bella and Edward! ".

You sit down on your couch. Letting your elbows rest on your knees so your hands can hold your head up. You let out a deep sigh. Why did this kind of shit always happen to you? " Look, I know you won't want me and that's fine. Just break the news to me, we don't have to tiptoe around it, " you say, just trying to get them to get to the point. Alec's hand is suddenly underneath your chin. He angles your head in a way so that you're looking up at him. " You think we don't want you? ". You nod.

" No, don't ever think that, " Jane says as she sits down beside you. " It's maybe a bit...unusual to have a wolf as a mate but we definitely want you. If you want us. ". You can't help the small smile from spreading onto your face. They want you. They didn't reject you or call you a dog. " Of course I want you, have you seen yourself? You're both hot. ". The twins send each other a smile. Jane gets up from the couch and stands in front of you next to Alec. She holds her hand out for you to grab. " Come home with us. ". You nod at her before grabbing her hand. Finally, you can go to a home where you're loved.

---

The ringing of the phone seems to go on so long that you're afraid you're calling won't be picked up. You wanted to call home, to tell them how well you're doing. You just hope that someone will pick up. Finally, the call gets picked up. " Hello? " Seth says on the other side of the line. " Seth! " you call out happily. The annoyance in his voice is gone in an instant and replaced by happiness. " Y/n! You called! How are you? ".

" Better than ever, " you say happily, glancing over at Jane and Alec who is standing on the other side of the room talking to Demitri and Felix. You know that they are probably listing along to your call but you don't care. " I'm really good. I um...I imprinted again. ". You wait anxiously for Seth's response. " Really? That's great! Who is it? ".

You and Seth continue to talk for another thirty minutes. Back home things are going great for him and the pack as well. Apparently, Emmett and Rosalie are really sorry but you couldn't care less about them. Not now that you have Jane and Alec. " It was nice to talk to you again. Give my greetings to the rest, yeah? Bye-bye. ". You hang up the call. Within a second, Jane and Alec are standing next to you, both giving you a questioning look.

" He's happy for me. Really happy, " you say with a bright smile on your face. Alec grabs your hand and gives you a kiss on top of your knuckles. " See, I know he would be. ". You nod at his comment. You stand there for a moment before pulling both the twins in for a hug. They wrap their arms around you. Sure, it's a little awkward to hug with three people, but it's comforting at the same time. You take in their scent. At first, you hated the smell of vampire but now it smells like home. You feel happy, truly and utterly happy. Maybe someone could love you after all.

TWILIGHT TAGLIST:

@scuzmunkie​ @thanossexual​ @prettyinblack231​

[firefly464]

The Real World - Chapter 7

did i have to google symptoms of ptsd and do a solid hour of research for this chapter? Perhaps. Do I regret it? Nahhh it was fun :D

Made in collaboration with @i-have-this-now​

Master Post

First - Previous - Next

~~~

When Tommy woke up the next morning, every muscle in his body ached. God damn it, this was why he hated working out. Who the hell in their right mind actually enjoyed it? It was just fucking stupid. Sure, he was much stronger and healthier in the SMP world than he was at home, but the past week of not doing anything had taken a toll on him. He still didn’t understand how the other Tommy had gone through so much effort to work out. Maybe he actually had been a psychopath. 

“Ughhhhhh” he groaned, remembering his promise to George. It was too early to go and talk to Wilbur, much less tell him that he was from another fucking universe. From the look of things, it appeared to be around 10-11 in the morning. Whatever. It was still too early to deal with this. 

~~~

Ten minutes later, Tommy stood outside the entrance to a long, underground tunnel. He hadn’t actually had a chance to visit it yet, but he knew that at the end of the tunnel was a small, underground bunker that everyone had been living in for over a week now. He could remember digging out the tunnel the day before the big war stream. The day before he had been forced into a world that wasn’t his own. The day before he was forced to leave his family and friends, and unable to say goodbye. 

Tears started to well up in his eyes. No. No he couldn’t lose control of his emotions now. He had to talk to Wilbur. Crying wasn’t going to help with that. He had already grieved over his lost life. It was time to focus on the present. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his eyes, and stepped in. 

He was maybe halfway through the long tunnel when the deep, haunting sounds of a bell echoed throughout the cavern. The sound was low, almost too low to hear. That didn’t exactly matter. It may have been low, but it was loud. Loud enough to cause Tommy’s eyes to vibrate. He stumbled back, clutching his head. He felt like his skull was about to burst. It was like someone had hooked up a speaker to the inside of his brain and played the lowest note they could at max volume. 

Almost as quickly as it had started, the sound cut out. The young blonde was left on the ground in the fetal position, shaking and trembling. The tears that he had tried so hard to keep from spilling over were now streaming down his face. “What the actual fuck. What the fuck was that. What the fuck is going on,” he muttered desperately, “Christ almighty I just want to go home… I want to fucking go home.”

“Tommy? Are you alright?” A voice asked, cutting through the fog in his mind. Tommy looked up to see Wilbur himself standing over him, looking very concerned. 

“W-wha? Y-yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just a bit startled. What the fuck was that?” he said, standing up and brushing himself off. He stumbled slightly, still shaky from the overbearing sound. 

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed as he placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder to steady him. “It was the bell. You know, the one that they ring whenever someone new shows up? Are you sure you’re ok?” 

“O-oh! Yeah, yeah of course. The sound must have just shocked me a bit more than normal,” he quickly replied, trying to make the lie sound convincing. “Why on earth do they have to make it so loud?” 

His friend didn’t look convinced, but didn’t continue to press for answers. Instead, he gladly took the change in subject. “I swear, you ask this every time it goes off. It's just part of the enchantment.” 

“Since when is there an enchantment for that?” Tommy muttered under his breath as the two of them walked into the fresh air. He took a deep breath, unbelievably grateful to not be trapped in the suffocating darkness anymore. 

“What were you even doing in the tunnel anyways? I thought you hated it in there.”

“Oh, uh, I was looking to speak with you about something…”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Perhaps you could tell me now?”

Tommy shook his head quickly. “No, it can wait until after this. I’m sure this is more important.”

The two men walked in silence for a bit, neither one quite sure of what to say. As they climbed the walkway that connected L’Manberg to the DreamSMP, Tommy couldn’t help but marvel at how incredible the world around him looked. Sure, he had seen it all before in-game, but there was something different about seeing it all in person. Something different about actually walking down the wooden path. Hell, even his little hobbit hole base looked different in person. He couldn’t help but stare at it as they passed, earning a strange look from Wilbur. 

They turned at the fork in the road, heading down towards the dip in the wooden path. Tommy could feel his heartbeat quicken as they approached. He knew that he wasn’t in any immediate danger, but just standing in that spot was enough to make him panic. Hell, the planks beneath his feet were still stained a deep red from his blood, despite someones obvious efforts to clean it. This was the same spot that he had stood when his friend had shot him in the heart. This was the spot that he had stood when he had been forced to leave everything he knew behind. 

A hand rested on his shoulder. Tommy looked over to see Wilbur giving him a reassuring smile. “Hey, it's alright. Next time, we’ll be sure to change the meeting spot,” he assured him. 

Tommy felt a wave of gratitude towards his older friend. He hadn’t even needed to say anything and his friend could tell exactly what was wrong. It was nice, to say the least. 

That's when he finally looked at the group of people that had gathered on the bridge. Tommy felt his breath catch in his throat. As he stared at the newcomer, Tommy found himself face to face with his friend Jack Manifold. 

“Jack? What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, trying to figure out what was going on. Had he been transported like Tommy and Dream had? Had he found a different way to enter the SMP world?

However, his friend just stared at him in confusion. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” he asked. 

Tommy swore under his breath. He had forgotten what Tubbo had told him. People would show up in the woods sometimes with no memory of how they got there, or what their own past was. All they knew was their own name, age, and how to survive the world around them. Any other memories were gone completely. Family, friends, homes, none of it mattered. It was all just gone. 

He tried to cover up his mistake with an excuse, but the damage had already been done. Everyone was staring at him in shock. 

“Tommy,” asked Tubbo, “Tommy did you remember something? Do you know this guy?” his eyes were alight with excitement and hope. 

Tommy made a big show of grabbing his head like it hurt “I… I thought I did. It’s nothing, never mind.” 

Tubbo’s shoulders slumped in disappointment “oh…” 

Dream and George were both staring at him, asking a silent question. Tommy nodded ever so slightly, showing that he did in fact know Jack. Wilbur watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, slightly glaring at Dream and George and shooting a questioning look at Tommy. 

He shrugged it off, trying to act casual. He was going to have a lot to explain later. 

George glanced to Wilbur, then back at Tommy, once more asking a question. Tommy shook his head, trying to communicate that Wilbur didn’t know yet. He sighed, and looked disappointed. Tommy raised his hands in defense, earning another strange look from Will. 

‘One week�� George mouthed silently. Tommy nodded. He had one week to tell Wilbur, or George would do it for him. 

~~~

Tommy rummaged through the closet in his room, trying to find clues about who he was in this world, and what sort of part he needed to play. So far, he hadn’t found much. There were mostly just bins of old clothes. He knew that the strange device on his desk likely held mountains of information, but even just looking at it made him want to throw up. It brought back too many painful memories of what Dream- no, what he had done. 

“You alright man?” Tubbo asked. Tommy jumped in surprise, but quickly shrugged it off. He had nearly forgotten that his friends were there. Tubbo was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. Wilbur had claimed the chair. 

As Tommy looked to his friend to reassure him, he noticed something strange. “What the hell is that?” He asked, pointing to the strange object. 

“Uh, a sword?” Tubbo replied. It was the foam diamond sword that Tommy had owned for years. Why was he so confused by it?

A bark of laughter escaped his friend as he went over and picked up the sword. “Please, this isn’t a sword. You couldn’t hurt a fly with this thing, even if you tried”

“It’s… it’s not for actually fighting. It’s just a toy,” Wilbur said, his brow furrowed in thought. 

Tommy’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding, right? A sword isn’t meant to be played with. It’s a fucking deadly weapon. God some people…” he muttered as he threw the foam toy into the bed and continued to dig through the closet.

Tubbo and Wilbur looked at each other in concern. Since when did Tommy give a fuck about weapons? Much less swords. 

“So uh… Tommy, what exactly happened to you?” Tubbo asked, trying to change the subject. Wilbur shot him a glare and shook his head, trying to get him to stop. Who knew if Tommy was in any sort of condition to talk about what had happened to him. 

However, Tommy just shrugged. “Dunno. I can’t exactly remember any of it.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He really couldn’t remember anything from the past week. He just wasn’t exactly telling the whole truth. 

Wilburs eyes narrowed. That was complete and total bullshit. One look at the young teenager and it was obvious that something bad had happened. Something that he was desperate to escape. 

Tubbo on the other hand, just looked concerned. “Really? You don’t remember anything at all?”

“Nope.”

“What about beforehand? Do you remember anything from the stream at all?” he asked, once more ignoring Wilbur’s glare.

“Uhhhh, the what?” Fuck. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He had no idea what they were talking about, much less what had been going on before the swap happened. He would have to play dumb. It was honestly his best bet right now. “It's all a bit fuzzy. Maybe you could jog my memory a bit?” 

Tubbo glanced at Wilbur, as if only now seeing how his plan could possibly go wrong. Wilbur just shrugged. If Tommy was asking, then he figured it was fine. “We could just pull up some clips. It would probably be easier.” He spun the chair around and faced the computer. “What's your password?” 

“My wha…?” 

Wilbur typed something in and waved his hand “Nevermind, I’ve got it” Soon enough, he had pulled up the most popular clips from the stream. The one at top was obviously the one where Tommy had vanished, but he figured that Tommy wouldn’t exactly want to see that. So instead, he went to the second most popular one. The clip of Eret betraying them. 

Tommy stepped closer to the screen, fascinated by the flashing and glowing lights. His breath caught when he saw the thumbnails for the clips. That was… That was his home. But it was different… It was blocky, and weird. But there was no denying the fact that it was his home. “What the fuck…” he whispered softly. 

“You do remember the SMP, right?” Wilbur asked as he pulled up the short video. 

“Home…” That was when he finally noticed what clip had been pulled up. The starting frame was a shot of them all following Eret down a long tunnel. Tommy felt his heartbeat start to quicken. No, this couldn’t be what he thought it was. That would be impossible. His hand went up to touch a scar on the side of his neck that was no longer there. Of course it wasn’t there. This wasn’t even his body.

The clip started playing. As he watched, Tommy was forced to sit down on his bed in order to keep from passing out. It was all too similar. The dark tunnel, Eret’s reassuring voice, him and his friends following like lemmings. He couldn’t watch. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t fucking right. He could feel tears start to flow down his face. It was all coming back to him in a massive wave.

The way that Eret had promised he had a safe place to go. The way they had all been herded into the small room like cattle, no way to run or hide. Eret’s face as he hit the button in the center. The sound of the pistons releasing. The sharp sting of the iron needle being stabbed into his neck. The way he had lost all control over his own muscles and collapsed on the ground. Dream stepping over each and every one of them, taunting and jeering. The white mask that had shown no emotion. Only a sadistic, simple smile. It was too much. He couldn’t fucking handle it. 

“S-stop! Make it stop!” he cried out, gripping his hair. His eyes were shut tight, but tears still flowed freely from them. He was terrified that if he opened his eyes, he would see the porcelain mask. It was coming for him. It was never going to leave him alone. Dream would never let him live in peace. He was curled up in the fetal position on his bed, rocking back and forth. 

“Tommy?! Tommy are you ok?!” Someone asked. He didn’t know who. It sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel, faint and distant. He felt someone place a hand on his shoulder. It was Dream, it had to be. Dream was here to finish the job. He was here to kill him finally. His eyes shot open as he kicked whoever it was that was touching him in the gut and scrambled back. He needed a weapon. He needed to defend himself. His hands desperately grasped at the nightstand, trying to find something, anything that he could use as a weapon. All he found was a couple of pencils. Whatever, he would make it work. 

“Tubbo, go get his parents, quickly!”

Who were they talking about? He didn’t have parents. It must have been some stupid code. “NO!!!” He screamed. He wouldn’t let anyone else hurt him. He wasn’t going to just sit there while someone tried to attack him. He wasn’t going to sit there uselessly again while those around him got hurt. Not again. Not ever, ever again.

~~~

Master Post

First - Previous - Next

[sp00kymulderr]

The smoke's the ghost that keeps you close (Javier Peña x Reader)

Warnings: Angst, emotions, mentions of smoking, reader is a smoker, a couple swears, mention of blood, sad!Javi, i don’t know it’s just sad.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 2,043

Request: Prompt - A desperate yearning to run away, to leave everything behind. Requested by @javierpenaspinkshirt​  a long, long time ago. 

A/N: Reminder I am not good at following prompts. Should probably point out that I have no idea when this is set within the Narcos timeline so please don’t think about that. Beautiful moodboard below by the ever talented @huliabitch​.

It’s one of those cold Colombian nights, a chill in the air coming earlier than usual. The park is quiet at this time of night, especially with the cooler weather, so it’s easy to spot him sitting on the bench alone awaiting your arrival.

In silence, you sit besides him and he offers you the cigarette that had been pursed between his lips. You accept and take a long drag from it, inhaling deep and blowing out a puff of smoke that surrounds you for a moment. It’s difficult not to get in to the habit, working with the people you do. With him especially.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to show tonight” he mutters, taking the cigarette back. How many of those had you watched him smoke, rapt with his every movement? Even before the two of you had started this, you had always found some odd solace in this constant. He had told you once he thought about quitting, but how could he exist without the comforting smell of tobacco following everywhere he went? The familiar scent made it easier to feel like you were with him, when you couldn’t be, that’s probably why you hadn’t quit.

“I needed the walk” you tell him simply, pulling your coat tighter around you as a cool breeze passes through the trees surrounding you. He scoots closer silently, his body heat warming you slightly when you lean against him.

Of course you would come, you always did when he asked you to. And here too? On the bench in the park where you had first properly gotten to know each other. When you were new and couldn’t stand to be cooped up in the embassy all day long, taking lunches out here in the warmth. Your DEA colleague Javier would often be out too, somehow still dark and stormy even in the sunshine, cigarette perpetually hanging from his mouth. You offered him a seat, half a sandwich, and then a willing ear for his frustrated rants. And after a couple weeks you’d offered him much, much more.

Now the sun slowly sets above you, the sky growing darker gradually. It adds to the sombre mood, the unspoken sorrow in your heart and the unease in Javier’s. The week had been a shit-show on all accounts, one you knew he was still on edge from. Blood ran on the streets and it felt like no one could put a stop to it, hard as they tried

“Fuck this week” he sighs, “Are you alright?”

You nod, maybe something of a lie but he doesn’t need to know it.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. The guys in the office...they’re dicks, so am I. I should’ve told them to shut up. You shouldn’t have had to listen to that crap” He mutters, reminding you of the earlier conversation between Javier and some of the other men in the team, them patting him on the back for his sexual conquests. He was, after all, something of a legend in that respect within the agency. 

“It’s fine Javi, I’ve worked here long enough to be used to it. Besides we made an agreement, right? Clean and simple. No strings, I won’t get offended if you talk about fucking someone else” you squeeze his knee lightly, quietly adding “As long as they don’t know about me”.

He shakes his head, no one knows about you and him. You’ve been his best kept secret, he had made a promise to you. You watch as he drags on the cigarette again, orange embers lighting up his face as the colour fades from the sky above. He’s looking away, exhaling away from you for courtesy sake. With the slightest movement he covers your hand on his knee with his own, warm and rough skin filling you with a familiar comfort.

“You know that’s not what this is any more”

He’s right, of course. You had agreed to keep things simple, but the emotional attachment that had formed over the last year was getting impossible to ignore no matter how hard you tried. You’ve known this for months now; what he means to you, the way he makes you feel. The love, unspoken so far but true all the same.

“I know” you agree in earnest, feeling the mood shift. You watch him drop the cigarette and stub it out with his shoe. 

“Are you alright?” you repeat his question.

He just turns to you, brings up a hand to gently cup your cheek and gives you a smile that never reaches his eyes. He looks so worn, now you see his face fully, so tired and forlorn and it makes you want to cry. He leans in, offering you a surprisingly chaste kiss. When he pulls away you wrap your arms around him.

The wracked sigh that leaves him when you hold him tight could break your heart entirely. He’s given you a lot of himself, but this pain, this emotion that comes off him in waves now is something you think he’s been keeping to himself for far too long. He mumbles something against you, sounds like an apology but you can’t make it out, his hands holding on to you so tight it’s like he needs to make sure you’re really there. This is why he needed you here, not to say sorry for an overheard conversation you had already forgotten about. He needed to let out the pain.

And you feel it, every ounce of his suffering as he lets it go. The way it affects you, the sadness you feel washing over you at his anguish, that’s how you know. You love him. It makes you realise just how much you want to see him happy, make him happy. You love him and it hurts you to admit that now, because if you don’t it makes things so much easier - makes leaving him so much easier.

But you break and know that you can’t do that now. You love him, and rash as it may be, you have to tell him. 

“Javi, I need to tell you something” you whisper, pulling away from him to look him in the eye. There’s a glisten in his eyes, and your heart lurches painfully at the knowledge that he’s holding back tears. You feel the sear of anger within you at Escobar, the cartels, the DEA, and everyone else who made him feel this way. Your grasp his hands with yours and begin to finally tell him.

“I...I got offered a post in New York. A while back.” you tell him, breaking eye contact, “I accepted it”. Keeping this secret has been difficult with him, it’s become so easy to tell him everything, but you were in too deep now to just slip away without giving him a reason.

“They’re transferring you? Why?” he asks, confused for a moment.

“No. Well, yes, but only because I asked to be transferred” you admit, a shaky breath leaving you before you continue. “Javi, I can’t be here. I’m not strong enough. I can’t do it; Watching everyone around me die, watching on as innocent people die on the streets, never knowing if it’s going to be over. Watching you slowly kill yourself over this job” the last part is barely said, a whisper in to the cold night air.

He barely reacts, the single flicker of confusion crosses his features and then he’s drawing away. 

“I love you, Javi. I love you and I want you to survive. More than survive, I want you to live. For something other than this” you sweep your hand in the direction of the embassy and turn back to him, steady your quickening heartbeat before continuing “Come with me? I’m leaving in two weeks, I know it’s sudden but... Come with me, please. I want to be with you, but I don’t want us to be here any more. I love you.”

You know what this job means to him, the mission he’s put himself on to stop the violence and suffering in this country and beyond. You know in reality that this is more important to him than his own wellbeing. And you just want to scream at him to be selfish, for once. You ache with how much you want to leave, and even more with how much you want him to leave with you. It’s what you need more than anything. You want him to need it too.

He’s silent, for a longer time than you expect. He stares away, looking towards the city of Bogota, towards the embassy and everything past it. Grinding his jaw slightly as he seems to contemplate your words. He’s going to say no, you think, he hates me for giving up. You start to feel the tears prick in your eyes, they start to fall because you’ve never offered your heart to anyone before but you meant every single word.

And then he turns back towards you, pulls you to him and kisses you softly. You gasp when he pulls back, when he tells you “Yes” and then kisses you once more.

“Yes” he says, and it’s the most hopeful sound you’ve ever heard.

----

In the days that pass, you feel light in a way you haven’t in a long time. Although you barely get a chance to see Javier, passing him in hallways where your hands touch for a moment and then he’s gone for hours at a time. He’s busy as usual, but the way he looks at you now is different and it’s enough to keep you going.

You start to pack away your life, ready to begin it again in New York. You wonder if Javier is doing the same, but when you sneak upstairs to see him there’s no answer – another late night at work. You need to talk to him properly, make arrangements and discuss the details you didn’t get around to on the night he said yes.

It’s a shock then, when you come in to the office 10 days before you’re due to leave, and hear about the upcoming op in Medellin – due to take place the week that you leave, and lead by him. In the conference room he doesn’t look at you, and your stomach drops as you come to a realisation.

He’s not coming with you.

“Javier” you rush after him when you leave the conference room, trying not to draw attention. A hand on his arm to stop him, he let’s you pull him towards the empty kitchen. For a long minute you  are both quiet, the buzz of the office outside the only sound. You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to say what he needs to.

“You’re not coming to New York are you?” you blurt out the question, the hurt in your voice making him wince.

He takes a long breath, then shakes his head, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”.

“But you said yes” it’s almost a whimper, pathetic and miserable, and he stands there awkwardly before taking your hand in his.

“I know. I know. I just- I can’t leave. I don’t blame you for wanting to, for getting out, but I can’t leave – not now.”

Part of you isn’t surprised, of course. Part of you can’t even imagine him away from here, doing anything other than this. But the rest of your suffers, a clutching pain inside of you that makes you feel nauseous and weak. You don’t even think about where you are, who might see, when he brings his arms around you and pulls you to his chest, holding you gently. His apology once again repeated against your skin.

“I love you, you know” he whispers, the unspoken words hang in the air between you – I love you but I can’t be with you

Maybe he’ll change his mind, maybe when you’re gone he’ll realise he wants to get out too. There are so many maybes. But the reality is that Javier knows how to live with regret, he’s been doing it for years. So maybe you’ll have to learn to forget him, however long that takes. 

Maybe one day you’ll be able to quit.

Permanent tag list:

@princessbatears​ @catfishingmorales​ @hdlynn​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @chews-erotically​ @keeper0fthestars​ @marydjarin​ @readsalot73​ @a-seeker-of-imagination​

[theoriginalladya]

Intimacy Prompts #20: a hand written note for rydenko.

from this list

on AO3 here

Thank you so much for this one!  Sorry it took so long - I had an idea, but I got side tracked by other things! :)  Enjoy, my friend!  And thank you for asking about them!

Setting:  Andromeda Galaxy

~~~

It all begins as a joke.

Once his status as Pathfinder is officially recognized, the Initiative administrators cannot act fast enough to guarantee they have Kaidan Alenko on their side.  As the Nexus slowly opens, finally coming out of hibernation, the administrators agree they need to do something.  So, they give him an apartment.  

Scott has his father’s quarters back on the Hyperion, most of the others have their own quarters or stay on the Tempest, but all Kaidan has available to him is a cryo-pod, one that’s no longer useful now that he’s awake.  He doesn’t ask for anything, doesn’t even drop a hint.  Tann reminds him of others back in the Milky Way, even acts similarly, but he’s a crafty one, too.  In a move that is supposed to look as if the Initiative cares about their Pathfinders, they assign their lone Pathfinder an apartment.  Whether or not they actually do care about him and the role is beside the point.  

Kaidan, who detests being used as a political pawn but recognizes he can do nothing about it, hates it on sight.  

Okay, so maybe hate is too strong of a word. It isn’t the orchard back in the BC Interior, that’s for damned sure, and it’s a far cry from shared barracks during his Alliance years.  He has a room on the Tempest, so it he has some choice about where he can stay. But this… this tiny cubicle that they are calling an apartment?  Four walls, open spacing, barely any room to turn around without bumping into something? There is absolutely nothing homey about it.  Home, is something he’s still searching for.

That lasts about three weeks, until the day Scott drops by when Kaidan isn’t there and instead of messaging him to meet up elsewhere, leaves a handwritten note slipped beneath his door.  Kaidan almost misses it when he gets back after his meeting with Tann, Addison, and Kesh.  Just a small slip of paper – where had Scott found actual paper? – written in black ink.  A hint of white on an otherwise light-colored floor which is barely discernable.  Something about it catches the corner of his eye, though.  

K – Stopped by to see you.  Catch you later.  Scott

Kaidan reads it twice, just in case he’s having hallucinations thanks to the burgeoning migraine before setting it on the corner of his desk, thinking to send a reply via omni-tool.  But the meetings with Tann and the others are taking their toll, and even with SAM’s assistance, the pain is such he forgets until the next morning, at which point he decides to just head on over to the Hyperion instead. 

Of course, Scott isn’t there.

Scott – Was in the area and thought I’d save you a trip.  Better luck next time, right? Catch you on the Tempest.  K

The Tempest is scheduled out the next morning and, as typically happens aboard the ship with last minute things to do and distractions of all kinds, neither he nor Scott thinks to mention the messages to the other; almost an ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ sort of thing.  End of story.

Except, it isn’t.

The weeks pass, more notes appear at the apartment and on the Tempest or Hyperion.  Small ones. Silly ones.  Eventually, Scott starts leaving small sketches of different people on them – quick things, some cute, some ridiculous, but always they leave Kaidan smiling.  

A caricature of Tann speaking with Addison and Kesh mimicking him behind his back even as Tann’s head is blown up twice the size of the others.

A small cartoon of Suvi in the galley, laser focused as she points to different Heleus rocks and explains their different tastes to a very confused looking Drack while Lexi stands in the doorway scolding her.  

A stick figure sketch of Kallo and the several of the Tempest at various stages of the ship’s development.

Kaidan cannot hide his amusement at a more realistic looking sketch of Cora and Liam as they lean against one another in the back seat of the Nomad, fast asleep.  He remembers the incident clearly, from their last visit to Elaaden.  Even as he stares at the sketch, he swears he can hear their soft snores echoing in his ears as he tacks it to the wall over his desk next to the others.

Not to be outdone, Kaidan starts leaving quotes in his messages to Scott; from books, movies, and other inspirational sources he’s come across.  He’s been collecting them for years, long before he ever left for BAaT.  Most are saved on his omni-tool, but he has two small, leatherbound journals filled with the most meaningful ones he’s come across. They are about the only thing he was able to bring with him from home when he joined the Initiative.  

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. (1)

The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees opportunity in every difficulty. (2)

We may encounter many defeats, but we must not be defeated. (3)

Fear profits a man nothing.(4)

With each successive note between them, Kaidan learns a little bit more about Scott.  But the whole situation changes drastically after their adventures on the archon’s ship.  On the way back to the Nexus and after Lexi has cleared him, Kaidan does something he hasn’t done in centuries, if ever…

 ~~~~

 The buzzer to his Nexus apartment sounds, but Kaidan doesn’t bother to answer it.  It’s Scott, and the man has his own key.  The buzzer, he supposes, is Scott’s polite way to warn him that he’s arrived. The fact that Scott uses does it now of all times tells Kaidan something more; Scott is pissed.  

Well, I probably deserve it after what happened.  

He’s tempted to not answer, to see if Scott leaves a note, but decides not to risk it.  Opening the door, he steps to the side to allow the younger man in.  Scott remains silent, though his body language screams in a way that Kaidan easily recognizes.  Taut, tense, his lips tightened in a thin line, the way he won’t look directly at Kaidan… It’s one side of a conversation Kaidan’s been on many times, albeit hundreds of years before and in a different galaxy.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?” Scott demands, blue eyes sharp and snapping with anger.  “Any idea what could have happened back on the archon’s ship if SAM hadn’t been able to resuscitate you?  You-you could have died back there!”

Opting to let the younger man get it out in one fell swoop, Kaidan bides his time.  Well, except for one point of clarification.  “I did die.”

Scott growls in the back of his throat.  An honest to goodness growl.  Kaidan can’t help the small smirk that twists at his lips as a result.  When Scott steps forward, invading his personal space, Kaidan does something he usually doesn’t do; he goads him.  “What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“Not helping the situation!”

Kaidan isn’t certain if he should be worried that SAM is, so far, remaining silent in his head.  “I needed to get us out of there,” he argues instead.  “How else was I going to –?”

“You?  Why did it have to be you?  Why is it always you?”  Scott tosses his hands in the air and turns away, frustration building until his biotic corona flickers around him.  Still grumbling to himself, he turns back, glaring at Kaidan.  “What the hell am I going to do if I lose you like that?”

Kaidan sucks in a breath, recognizing the pain. Sure, things between them have improved since their arrival in Andromeda – no place to go but up, right? – but this…? This is a reinforcement of what he’s hoped for ever since accepting Alec Ryder’s offer.  

Or am I reading too much into this?

On their private channel, SAM replies, “You are not, Kaidan.”

Scott still prowls around the room as Kaidan asks, “Can you come over here for a minute?”

“Why?  So you can die on me a third time?”

Petulance is not a good look for Scott, and Kaidan has to bite back a laugh; as much as he wants to set it free, it would do more harm than good just now.  “I want to show you something.”

Scott grumbles some more, even as Kaidan heads on over, but eventually he follows.  When he arrives, Kaidan hands him the letter.  “Read this.”

The blue-eyed glare returns, heavy with suspicion.  “What is it?”

“Just read.  Please.”

Scott waits another moment, two, then drops his gaze and starts reading.  For several minutes, Kaidan waits patiently, watching.  The letter isn’t long, but Scott is taking his time reading it, but Kaidan knows when Scott reaches the end because the younger man’s spine stiffens, his shoulders roll back, and his head snaps up as he darts a quick look up at Kaidan. “Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.(5)”  

When Scott says nothing else, Kaidan prods, “So, what do you think?”

Scott is quiet for a minute.  It’s difficult to read his reaction because he keeps his back to Kaidan the entire time, slightly hunched in the shoulders, utterly quiet. “Do you mean it?” he asks, voice soft as if having trouble pushing it out.

“I always try to say what I mean, Scott.”

The younger man turns around, his face a surprisingly neutral mask.  Considering how difficult that has been for him in the past, Kaidan is impressed.  “So, you’re saying you consider yourself the luckiest man on Earth or, in this case I guess, the Nexus, because you survived?”

Ah, so that’s the problem.  Reaching over, Kaidan settles a hand on Scott’s cheek. Scott leans into it, then apparently thinks better of it or at the very least realizes what he’s doing and pulls back. But that’s okay.  Kaidan now has a far better sense of what he is working with. Running his thumb along the corner of Scott’s lips, he says quietly, “I am the luckiest man in Andromeda because you are here with me.”

Tension immediately flows out of Scott and he visibly sags a bit.  “And you really mean that?  Because look, I get that my Dad talked you into all of this without checking with me first, and –”

Kaidan slides his thumb over the top of Scott’s lips to silence him.  “I really mean that.  This has nothing to do with your dad, but everything to do with you….”  

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 (1) The Godfather, part II

(2) Winston Churchill

(3) Maya Angelou

(4) 13th Warrior

(5) The Pride of the Yankees

[sweetsubharry]

hiiii, do u have any fic recommendation for highschool aus?

Hiya! 💕 yes I do! It’s one of my favourite classic aus :) Just as a warning! There’s 36 fics under the read more tag so it’s a longer style post! I hope you like these! and just in case no one reads it at the end I’ll say it up here too! Make sure you read the tags and stay safe!

I was also unsure if any set in hogwarts counted? or any with a/b/o elements so I left them out but if anyone wants those too just send in an ask :)

You Can be My Cliche by DreamWeaver14

Basically Lou and Hazza are best friends and Louis is jealous and overly protective... But it all works out in the end once Lou and Harry have movie night. SMUT

Free with You Tonight by sunniskies

Harry's 16 and sophomore, Louis is a senior and his best friend, but somehow Harry's not sure that's enough anymore.

Essentially, high school au fluff involving first kisses and Niall mixing bad drinks.

A Real Work of Art by lululawrence

“I don’t understand,” Liam said for probably the fiftieth time in ten minutes. “You have to explain again how this is a bad thing.”

“Leeeeyummm,” Harry whined into the phone as he leaned his head onto his desk. “I felt like this year was my year for getting his attention, you know? That senior year I would finally get Logan Thompson to realize I exist! But he’s in almost every single one of my classes, Li. How am I supposed to survive that?”

“Easily,” Liam answered, with the same matter of fact tone his voice always took when Harry was in one of his fits. “He doesn’t know you exist, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Right?”

Or the one where Harry calls on an old friend, the super popular Louis Tomlinson, to help him change his look to capture the heart of Logan. Things only mostly go as planned.

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

My love, he makes me feel like nobody else, nobody else by SilverShadow1

Harry was invited to a high school end-of-term party where he's ready to let loose, get drunk and perhaps regret his choices, or not.

OR

The one where Harry screams, 'Daddy!' at a party and what follows is the best night of his life.

Kiss me by carebearlarrie

Where Harry does a TikTok challenge and kisses his crush (Louis) ft. sweater paw Harry.

Because We Can by KrisStylinson

Harry's the bizzare new kid who likes flowers too much, Louis' the epitome of punk who's not as smooth as he seems. Those two things shouldn't mix as beautifully as they do.

A nice, long journey through Harry and Louis' intersecting lives, starting with the day they meet in high school—including meddling friends, a Styles-Tomlinson family Christmas, a first time, and a couple's holiday in Paris.

You're Still The One I Run To. by brooklynbis

Harry's favourite weather by a mile was snow. There was something about the cold flakes of snow that was just so peaceful. The few times he had experienced snow, everything just stopped for a few days.

There was one thing Harry hated about the snow, however. Having to try and get home in it.

________________________

AKA it snows and Harry and Louis get stranded at college. Fluff and lots of cuddling ensues.

Way to Your Heart by fallenflowercrowns

High school AU, where Louis is in a band and Harry likes to come to the rehearshals for no particular reason. Punk Louis with a lot of tattoos and everything. Shy Harry with an angel face and not many friends. Strangers to lovers. Quick sex in the rehearshals' room (just handjob or blowjob) Happy end.

Harry pines but is oblivious, Louis is a punk with a big heart, Ziam shag behind everyone's backs and Nick is actually not in love with Harry.

All I want for christmas is you by Tita

The one where Louis is a pining punk, Harry is the school’s sweetheart, and a miss sent text at a Christmas party turns out to be the best possible present.

Can I Walk Your Cute Face To Class by orphan_account

It's Harry's first day of High School and he's nervous. He meets Louis.

Or

They meet and they have lunch together but they don't actually eat anything. (and it's not because I forgot that's what people generally do during lunch.. not at all)

Touch by kotabear24

Harry's shy and virginal with a past, new on the football team; Louis' the (experienced) popular star of the team and Harry's new mentor.

All I Need is Oxygen (and You) by lululawrence

There are only two ways to navigate Bloomfield High School: become popular or make yourself invisible.

With the help of his best mate Niall, Harry’s introduction to high school hadn’t been half bad. Despite being a “bandie” – the lowest of the low in the ancient hierarchy of high school –Harry had somehow managed to survive freshman year relatively unscathed. So naturally, Harry would have been perfectly happy to resume his position of invisible trombone player number four for the remainder of high school. But one day something drastic happened, something that would change the course of Harry’s entire existence (probably).

It was the last football game of his freshman year, and the band was back in the stands after performing a rousing rendition of Bloomfield’s alma mater during half time. Harry was gracelessly wiping the slobber from the mouthpiece of his trombone when he saw him.

Louis Tomlinson.

Or...a High School AU where Harry is a bandie and Louis is the epitome of cool, so naturally, Harry must find a way to get his attention and win his affections.

I don't care where we go, just keep me close by Eversincefiveboys

Louis has to go on summer camp and he absolutely doesn't want to because he is 16 and too old for this. Then he meets the boy with the curls and the dimples and suddenly he doesn't want this camp to be over 

Maybe it's All Part of a Plan by promisingstyles

Christmas High School AU. Harry is sick, Louis talks way too much and much too fast. They meet in the toilets. 

I made a map of your stars by brightbluelou   

Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes. 

All Part of the Plan by alwaysinmyheartlarry   

Harry Styles is a member of the marching band who has an insane crush on Louis Tomlinson--the amazing senior who plays on the varsity football team at school. 

We’re on Fire Now (And I Could Burn in it All Day) by orphan_account   

“Thanks, Harry.” His voice is as soft as silk when he replies and Harry is so tempted to kiss him there and then, but would feel too much like he is taking advantage of Louis’ vulnerability in that moment. “Now let’s bake some fucking cookies.” He removes his hand and Louis lets go of his wrist, laughing. “Hearing you swear is so wrong. It’s like an angel punching someone in the face. It just doesn’t fit.” Harry gasps in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I swear all the time. I’m a right rebel.” Louis laughs again, bright and beautiful, and Harry smiles down at him.

or

A shameless high school AU where Louis is a footballer, Harry is a photographer, Liam is blissfully unaware and Niall is his usual self.

first position, the mood is set by hiswittlehands

Louis bites down on his lip. "You...god, they look so good on you. Shows off your arse and your...your thighs, Haz." He runs his hand along the skin there then, relishing how soft and pliant it is even with all the muscle. "They shouldn't have even let you play. Should, should have sent you straight home for...fuck, indecency or breaking the dress code or summat."

Or, I literally have no idea what the fuck I just wrote but it involves dodgeball, short shorts, and thigh fucking.

(i didn't mean to) fall in love tonight by zouisclimax

Harry texts him back a thumbs up emoji before leaning forward and throwing up again. He groans, but stands after he’s done, wiping his mouth with toilet paper, and flushing the toilet.

He washes his mouth out as best as he can before steeling himself and heading back to class, trying his best not to cry. He tells himself that there is no point in worrying when he doesn’t even know if there is anything to worry about yet.

He still feels sick.

[or, the American boarding school AU where Harry's infatuated with Louis and one night flips his whole world upside-down]

falling for you, i can't keep away by hegotthedagger

Harry wants Louis really bad and Louis might want him just as much.

I see the love light in your eyes by larrycaring

For as long as Harry can remember, Louis has always been his best friend.

There are a few constant things in Harry’s life: his family, this town he’s grown up in, and Louis.

He had his other friends, of course, but Louis had always been and still was the person that Harry was closest to. Maybe it was due to the fact that they live next to each other, and that, since the first night they’d talked, when he and Louis shared a conversation on their conjoining roofs, they instantly hit off, and a friendship developed. Or maybe it was that Louis was always so cheeky, almost the opposite of Harry, but it complimented Harry’s slow and thoughtful way of life perfectly. Either way, it just kind of happened.

or an AU where Louis and Harry are very much in love. Featuring football & late night rendezvous.

Translation of the fic in spanish by @lachrimose_: click here (wattpad) In russian by Hewassixteen: click here (ficbook)

You Have Bewitched Me, Body and Soul, and I Love, I Love, I Love You by Storyofmythigh

Harry is quiet. Louis isn’t.

Louis hates reading. Harry loves words.

They find a way.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Kiss me (this feels like falling in love) by Ambros

- Five times Louis wanted to kiss Harry (and one time he did).

In This Light by kiwikero

Harry gets a position on the school yearbook staff, which is fine until he falls in love with Louis Tomlinson through the lens of his camera.

❤ For Effort by FallingLikeThis 

When Harry Styles lets his team down during gym class, resulting everyone having to run laps, he expects the worst. But the backlash never comes.

Harry's crush, Louis Tomlinson, may or may not have something to do with that.

Last First Kiss by Kikacat

High School AU in which Harry is outed and can't work out why no one seems to care, whilst also dealing with his crush. Super supportive family and friends. Trigger warning for some of the social media comments Harry receives. If I've missed any tags, let me know

let me get your heart racing by orphan_account

Even asleep, Harry finds himself so hooked to this boy. It’s crazy. Months ago, Louis wouldn’t have noticed him. He’s just an ordinary guy, so that’s no surprise. And Louis... Louis is everything.

Harry leaves immediately.

or a highschool au where Harry's sure that Louis will never fall for him, and where he's also wrong.

i’d burn this city down to show you the light by you_explode

Harry's a sheltered rich kid and Louis's a punk with a heart of gold. They meet when Louis breaks into Harry's house, Harry obtains an instant and all-encompassing crush, and they spend the summer falling into a whirlwind romance.

put your head on my shoulder by wayfared

Niall gives Harry until the end of marching season to either a) make a move on Louis Tomlinson or b) get the fuck over him. Either is easier said than done. Basically, your High School AU with a drum beat.

My Only Sunshine by DontLetHimGo

Harry and Louis have known each other since the start of everything.

When Harry is only a few weeks old, and Louis is two, the older boy is immediately intrigued by the little person in the carry cot. Jay knows that it will be difficult to keep her son away from her best friend's little boy.

Completely unaware (you make me smile) by deblond

Five times everyone thinks that Harry and Louis are dating (and the one time they are).

it's kinda hot in here by ballsdeepinjesus 

“Is that a moth on your stomach?”

or nerdy harry is hiding some stuff under his dorky clothes and louis fucks him in a locker room

we should get jerseys, 'cause we make a good team by ellisaco

Harry's not very good at football, but he's aces at cheering Louis on.

Youth Meant to Be Beautiful by Turtles

Highschool AU, Louis is the footy captain and Harry is a cheerleader. Cliche ahoy!

every december (your star lights the sky) by larrystomlinsons

Louis needs a date for the Christmas dance and Harry is the wingman that has feelings for him.

The Birds Still Sing by orphan_account

The thing is, Louis thinks he already knows Harry's secret. He just doesn't know how to tell him he knows.

every december (your star lights the sky) by larrystomlinsons

Louis needs a date for the Christmas dance and Harry is the wingman that has feelings for him.

Stay safe and read the tags guys!! ❤

[the-darklings]

—𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 [01];

—PART I. | GASOLINE GIRL

pairing: santino d’antonio x f!reader

word count: 6.2k+

summary: “Carry that ice in your heart, always.”

warnings: mentions of: child abuse, drug abuse, death/torture; swearing, typical mafia-related situations/discussions so take heed because this is a mature read for sure. But we gotta be realistic, this life ain’t pretty. 

notes: so this can be read as a standalone though I do consider it a sort of mini sister series to COA. This will be short (no more than 5 parts) and only updated when I have free time. That being said, I do hope you enjoy. I even flexed my none existent photoshop skills to make the header pic lol. Get ready this one is going to be a ride. 

You don’t become a part of Camorra by choice.

No one sane enough would.

Your parents simply got involved with people who would have had you killed if they stepped out of the line. You know because that was a threat made with you in the room and a cold, merciless barrel of a gun pressed to your head.

Giovanni D’Antonio’s men came at night, dragging you and your parents out of bed in nothing but your nightclothes. They made you kneel on the dusty floor, your knees aching against the hardness of the wood.

The man himself is as awful as you heard people on the streets whisper. Everyone fears him. Fears him and Camorra and the terrors they unleash onto anyone who doesn’t fall in line.

“Such pity you didn’t have a son,” the head of Camorra notes dispassionately as he scrutinises you, his fingers digging painfully into the flesh of your cheeks. “What am I suppose to do with a girl?”

The man tsks as if some grave crime has been committed against him and takes a long drag of his cigar, turning your head from side to side. Your squirm, knees knocking, your lips trembling, but don’t let him see fear. You can’t afford to let this vile, cruel man who asked his men to beat your father to a bloody heap on the floor to see you weak. You can’t show predator fear if you want to live. Not when your mother is already a sobbing mess on the floor, clutching onto your father in despair.

You wonder if he’s alive. A part of you—

A part of you doesn’t care to know because the man before you stares at you with such finely veiled disgust, you can’t help but know that he will kill you all regardless. He might even enjoy giving the order. And your father is to blame for that.

“Are you at least smart, girl?” he demands and slaps you lightly on the cheek when you don’t respond. “Answer me. Or I will cut your tongue out, and then you will know what it’s like not having the gift of speech. Or maybe I will start with your parents instead.”

Your mother cries harder, practically hysterical and you feel a sting of bitterness, of anger, deep in your chest. She should be strong.

She should be defending you.

But she isn’t. She’s just crying. As if that’s going to save you, protect you, keep these men away.

“You will kill us all anyway,” you whisper knowingly, your words hollow as you stare into those dark, cold eyes that have no end. “They stole from you and you hate thieves.”

The man exhales smoke directly into your face but you don’t flinch—not even as your eyes water from the sting of tobacco, not even when he leans his malign, handsome face closer.

“But I reward loyalty,” he tells you, now almost pleasant, and his thick fingers tilt your chin up as he regards you critically. “Do you understand what I’m saying, hm?”

You nod once.

Giovanni is quiet and thoughtful but then a slight smile creeps across his face.

It’s the most awful sight you have ever seen.

“Then we are done here,” he announces and his hand drops away from your face, his dark gaze lifting over your slight frame and towards the men hovering in the shadows, awaiting orders.

Two shots follow.

You don’t flinch.

The sobs cease.

Giovanni’s grim smile widens, pleased.

“Come along, girl. You no longer have family here.”

. . .

Camorra is a pit.

A pit of betrayal and blood and drugs and more blood.

The first four months are near unbearable.

You’re younger than what they usually recruit and it shows. You don’t know how to navigate this world. You’ve been dropped off at a “care home” that operates more like a drug house but has to keep up a front for the public. Which, in itself, is hilarious because you doubt there is anyone in the nearby province who doesn’t know what this place is.

But it’s survival of the fittest here.

And it’s not a game you know how to play well.

Each person is given a task, a job, and you must do it or you will be punished. Severely.

Giovanni left you here, in this hellhole, with a dismissive hum and a harsh pat on the head, “Let’s see what you make of yourself, gasoline girl.”

Gasoline girl.

Because he didn’t bother asking for your real name. Because he gave you a canister of gasoline and told you to pour it through your house, onto your dead parents, and gave you the remains of his cigar, his order clear.

You watched your home go up in smoke, your parents’ bodies still inside, with gnawing detachment eating away at your heart, your soul.

The flame was hot and bright and Giovanni made you watch till there was nothing left but ash and ruin.

“Little gasoline girl,” he had said then, even more pleased. “Carry that ice in your heart, always. It will take you far in my family.”

The care home, however, is a desolate place that lacks warmth your home had—that lacks anything resembling anything humane, in fact. The only reason why you’re not drugged that very first night is because Giovanni told his men that you are too young for such a thing. Because he wants to see if you can be useful, your mind as sharp as he hopes it is.

But if you disobey…

It doesn’t frighten you, not at first, not until you see them. Those with sunken eyes and pale skin. Lips cracked and limbs trembling. They no longer have wills or dreams or aspirations. They are tools, shells, empty of everything that once made them human. Riddled with pain and despair that plagues them till their next fix or death.

They frighten you so much you hide away in the attic. You’re not sure how you find your way up there but you curl on the floor—in the darkest, deepest hole you can find—and sob and sob and sob into the dust and the dirt. Sob till your eyes are swollen and your throat is raw.

You rip and tear the girl you once were to shreds that night. Because even then, you know, that you will not survive long like this. That this dark pit will consume you unless you find a way to survive, to fight back.

Carry that ice in your heart, always.

You intend to.

You will.

. . .

Next four months are consistent of a few things: death, blood, drugs and violence.

It’s everywhere you look, all you hear at all times of day and night, and you can’t escape it.

There is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide—not when Camorra owns this city. Not when Giovanni knows you by face, if not by name—something that’s a rare honour, you learn later, seeing the Boss in person. Being handpicked by him.

Money laundering, sex, drug distribution, torture; the care home cycles through it all on a daily basis.

Hunger becomes part of the routine, the attic your new home.

You exist in the shadows out of fear, at first. Then, you realize how much power comes from being unseen. If you are unseen, then you can never be hurt, never be abused.

Not like so many—young, so young—always are.

There is nothing glorious about this life. It’s just survival.

Ugly and filthy and dangerous.

So you listen and hide and learn.

The staff—mostly men who are loud and rowdy but follow the rules because they fear the Boss too much, and few older women—start calling you a ghost.

You don’t mind. Not even at all.

It’s better than being actually dead.

. . .

The first time you meet him, you’ve been at the care home for little over a year.

The sounds of pain, pleasure, and death no longer scare you at night.

They have become your reality. Your own twisted, lewd lullaby in a way.

Violence and hate. Pleasure and pain. Greed and death.

They have become levers and cornerstones upon which you have built stability and routine.

Giovanni is coming tonight, the people in the hallways whisper in hushed breaths that morning though, and if anything is out of place blood will be shed.

You haven’t seen him in a year.

You’ve grown and hardened, killed as many soft parts of yourself as you could since the last time you saw him.

You have also become useful.

So normal, so sweet-looking, so unassuming.  

Like a ghost the staff compares you to, you haunt the streets and collect information for Camorra; the perfect little spy.

You nurture that ice in your heart and project it outward, and when Giovanni comes and calls forth everyone at the care home, you hold your chin up; unmoving, stiff-backed, and defiant.

Much to your surprise, his dark gaze snags on you and he pauses in his step, recognition reflecting back at you.

The leader of the care home pauses too, hesitating, clearly unsure if he should comment until Giovanni speaks.

“So you lived.”

He sounds surprised, pleasantly so.

You don’t so much as blink.

“Santino.”

It is then, from the folds of Giovanni’s guard, that a boy steps through. He’s barely taller than you and clearly you are close in age, if not the same, you conclude as he steps beside his father.

His hair is dark and finely combed, his clothes neat and expensive, and he reeks of privilege even more so than his father.

He’s also terrible at hiding his thoughts. He’s repulsed to be here, he thinks it beneath him and being faced with this—grim, hungry faces and grime—he’s balking under the stark contrast to his no doubt princely life at home.

He is the prince of Camorra—every bit as spoiled and arrogant as you expected him to be.  

You hate him on sight.

“What do you see?” Giovanni asks his son as the two stand before you.

Santino’s dark brows furrow and he blinks slowly, looking you up and down. There isn’t much to you. Your clothes are dirty and worn, your features no doubt hostile and your gaze even worse. It’s how you keep yourself safe. Snarl and bite first. Some men like to mutter “rabid dog” under their breaths as you pass in the hallways, but you’re fine with that, too. Even when they make offhand comments that only one thing happens to rabid dogs eventually.

“A nobody, father.”

Oh?

Giovanni sighs, disappointed, and Santino sees this, scrambling for something else to add, “She’s—she’s a girl.”

“Obviously,” the man says, his voice bored, dismissive, and Santino’s expression falls, his eyes lowering. But the older man is still staring at you. “Keep that ice in your heart, gasoline girl,” he reminds you, mild but stern.

He walks away without another word, going back to business in a blink.

His son lingers for a breath, his eyes jumping up and finally meeting yours.

He looks resentful. He’s blaming you for his father’s disappointment in him. He thinks that you are to blame for the failed test.

He looks at you like you are beneath him, like you are less, a nobody he accused you of being.

His eyes are vivid green.

Green as your mother’s garden. Green as the oak that used to sway outside your window.

Green as the grass you used to roll around in when spring flowers bloomed behind your house.

You hate him even more, then.

For the reminder.  

Santino D’Antonio stares at you for another long, hateful moment until his father calls him.

He surprises you by hesitating, still staring, but you only glare at him. Openly, without fear and with clear contempt.

I hate you. I hate you and everything you stand for—everything that you are. You will never know what it’s like to be hungry or cold or scared. What it is to kill and survive.

You dismiss him. A simple sweep of your eyes over his shoulder.

He exhales sharply at your defiance.

You wonder if anyone has ever defied him before and not been severely punished for it.

It makes you feel alive, for a moment, that spark of disobedience.

It’s perhaps the most real you have felt since that night with your knees in the dirt.

The weight of his stare is suffocating and you feel seen, beheld in a way that strips you down to your core.

“Santino.”

Giovanni’s voice is a subtle, cutting blade and his son jerks after him like dog on a leash.

You hope you will never see him again.

. . .

Days turn into weeks, into months, and then years.

With each new day at Camorra, your heart ices over and over.

You meet people, and you lose even more of them.

It teaches you a lesson of not getting attached, of not caring, of things outside of yourself being fragile and breakable.  

First there’s Nari. Too sweet, too kind, and with circumstances that are a bit too similar to your own. Is it any wonder he seeks you out? Any wonder that you let him close? Becoming his friend seems inevitable when you’ve been lonely for so long.

He gets shot on a drug run gone wrong six months after meeting you. There is nothing left of him for you to remember him by. There’s only memories of dark, midnight hair and his wheezy, shrill laugh that you always told him was annoying.

Then, a few years later comes Lucie. You’re a part of the home by then. There is a place for you here; a strength and a steadily rising reputation attached to your person. The pain-soaked hallways are familiar and your own now because you claimed them as such. Attic is no longer a hole to hide in but your home, your sanctuary, your dark throne.

She’s too beautiful and too gentle to survive this place. You know it from the moment you see her. It takes one look to know that this place will gobble her up and spit her back out, crushed and broken.

But there is something about her. Something about the ring of her laughter and the spark in her eyes. The shade of her long hair that reminds you of your mother. Something about the way she trusts you, relies on you, and believes in you. Looks at you as a friend, as a companion, salvation. How during the cold, bleak nights she seeks your warmth and dreams out loud of the life you will have once you both break free of Camorra. Once you find a way to make an honest living. She dreams of a world far bigger and grander than you’ve ever had.

Your dreams are simple: survive, become a nightmare that sweeps through the ranks of Camorra.

Lucie dreams of a home by the sea with three chickens, a cow, and a loving family.

“I want a big one,” she reveals one night, turning to face you with a serious frown. “At least four kids.”

You suppress a shiver. Seeing what you have seen, living through what you have, you can’t imagine having a family. Not one that big, at least. But perhaps it’s because you haven’t felt safe in so very long that any extension of yourself will always feel like a weakness opposed to strength.

“Sounds painful.”

She laughs; a soft, soothing sound as she rests her cheek against your shoulder with a faint smile. “They will have an amazing, scary aunt to look after them. I’m not worried.”  

It’s quiet for a moment before she speaks again. “What about you?”

Noting your blank stare, she adds, “Don’t you want a family? Or at least someone to call your own?”

“No,” you shoot back stiffly, and take another deliberate bite of your soggy bread. “People you love can be used against you. Hurt because of you, or by you. If I love them,” you pause, the word foreign on your tongue. “I won’t want them to suffer because of me. If I’m hurting them, then it’s not love at all.”

It’s silent for a long time.

“Sometimes,” Lucie whispers eventually with a sad, quiet sigh. “I can’t help but think that they’re one and the same.”

You think about that for a while.

Think about how her father used to beat her mother but they still stayed. Think about how that takes a special kind of bravery and strength. How despite that, he was a loving father to Lucie. How sometimes humans can be ugly and awful but have some semblance of good in them, too. How good can be done by bad and bad can be done by good.  

“I suppose.”

She blinks up at you. “Well if I have a family, then you have to have one as well.”

Your lips curve and it feels strange on your face. “Is that so?”

She nods but her eyes are full of mirth. “We’re both going to be fat and pregnant with swollen ankles and awful cravings. Promise?”

Her eyes are full of dreams, full of light you have never seen before.

You try to protect that light, try to hide her away from the men who would hurt her, from the women who would drug her and bargain her away.

It’s foolish and reckless of you but you are almost frenzied with the need to keep something good alive. For once, you just need—

She gets taken.

It’s planned in advance, you learn later.

They had to get you out of the house first. They lied—a job straight from the high tier of Camorra, from the elite itself, no refusals—and used that time you were away to take her.

What they did—

They pay for it.

Everyone in the care home that had anything to do with it, anyone who knew.

You tear ten people apart. Slowly; piece by piece, muscle by muscle, sinew by sinew. Over the years you have found new talents, new hobbies. Ghost is an old name they called you around the house.

But you have others you prefer now.

When it’s done, you stalk through the too silent house, covered in cooling blood and—

You’re not sure how much of it is from the people you just killed and how much is from—

Lucie is where you found her.

Your eyes sting as you gaze at the sight in front of you. You gather her in your arms gently and even if it’s a slog, slow and painful, you take her to the tiny bathroom down the hall.

You wash her hair of dirt and blood and—

Tears fall heavy and hot the entire time you work and you have to pause in-between, choking down your sobs.  

Her body is next. Wetting a cloth in your hand, you clean her skin, fold her hands over her chest, ignoring the broken bones and broken skin.

You’re glad it’s late spring.

The ground is softer, more pliable.

Despite that, it still takes you four hours to dig a grave deep enough. Your hands are numb, bloodied and blistered by the time you’re done. The stench of sweat and death mixes with the blood but you ignore it.

Lowering her takes time—time and care and self-control. Because she’s so cold, so stiff, and it’s awful knowing that you will never see her again after this.

You bury dreams and hopes and aspirations with her—both hers and yours. A handful of dirt at the time. Your hands are raw but you force yourself to keep going.

And when it’s done, you collapse beside the grave and stay there for hours, days, maybe weeks.

It starts raining and you let the freezing spring rain wash over you. The smell of wet earth and grass drags you into hazy dreams. They transform into feverish nightmares eventually, haunting you and killing you over and over again. You failed. Failed to protect something good. Maybe saving Lucie was only partially about saving her—an innocent—from this awful fate, and more about…

More about some vague, distant belief—hope—that you could be saved, too.

Grief splits you apart and suffocates you with every breath as you lay beside the fresh grave.

Grief. You’re not sure if you even grieved your parents. Not really. Because they were dead and you still had an uncertain future ahead of you. You grieved a life you could have had. But it’s been so long. So very long now.

Time is not a concept you can understand any longer.

By the time they find you, a part of you wishes they would just let you die and bury you beside your friends. Let you rest at long last.

But there are voices.

A foot nudges you as you roll over onto your back with a heavy thud. Dark sky stretches out above you.

Then, through a haze, a face appears, peering down at your with mild disinterest.

Recognition; it comes fierce and sharp and you know it’s the same for him.

Urgent, angry voices blur together as everything fades away into nothing.

You fucking hate those green eyes.

. . .

When you wake up, the Devil is standing over you.

Giovanni D’Antonio lifts a single eyebrow, not bothering to mask his cool distaste at your wheezing, delirious state.

You scramble upwards anyway, wincing at the ringing in your head and the popping in your ears.

You feel heavy and fuzzy in the worst way possible—the way that makes one slow and vulnerable. Nausea rolls your stomach, mixing with the instinctual fear of seeing who is standing above you.

“What a mess,” Giovanni drawls and hitches his trousers up as he sits down on a creaky chair beside your cot. “What a mess, gasoline girl.”

You’re sweating but feel so cold your body trembles and you can’t hide it. This man should never see you vulnerable but he is right now and you hate your own weakness.

“Who knew you had such a gift for death,” he continues and you swallow, your throat raw—from crying, from screaming and howling at the sky, you recall through your delirium—and you tremble again. “Ten dead. So easy, too. And such…brutality.”

If you didn’t know any better you would say he’s paying you a compliment—that he’s impressed.

The man reaches into his pocket and your bandaged hands—why are they bandaged, what—constrict around the fresh, cotton sheets covering you.

Cotton. You haven’t touched something as soft, as luxurious, as cotton since that last night you slept in your own bed years ago.

But Giovanni pulls out a cigar holder from his pocket instead of a gun, offering it to you. You don’t move, hardly breathe, as you stare at him through your watery eyes. Your ears are still ringing.

“I asked others about what happened,” he begins after lighting his cigar. He rolls it between his thick fingers, his golden rings gleaming and you shudder. “What justified ten of my own slaughtered like barn animals. So rethink lying to me, if that was your intention, girl. Let me start with something easy, though: was the girl your lover?”

Your eyes find his and perhaps it’s the fever, or the hole in your soul, but you don’t look away even when his eyes narrow on you.

He doesn’t understand. Of course, he doesn’t. As if a man like him could ever understand what it’s like to be so lost and raw with loneliness your heart is ready to crumble away at the gentlest of touches. As if everything in this world has to be about physicality and desire. As if care and loyalty can’t come from a place of love that has nothing to do with gratification of the body.

“No.”

“Then why did you kill them?”

“Because they deserved it,” you croak out, and your voice cracks as you pant for breath. Your head spins and you drop back against the wall even as your chest rattles with a loud, wet cough. Giovanni waits, expectant, and your eyes narrow. Let him kill you after. But he will hear this, if he wants truth so badly. “They deserved it for what they d-did to her. It—those m-monsters. She was sixteen. And they did it on purpose. Because they enjoyed it. I would—I would do it again gladly. Over and over again till there is nothing left of them to bury. Till—till only pieces remain and even then it would be too kind.”

The bloodlust is surging through you like a river after the fresh spring rain, untamed and wild, and you struggle for breath. The regret that you didn’t take longer, hurt them more—

And perhaps that makes you a monster. No—you know it does. But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Better to be a monster than a coward. Better to be alive and hated than loved but dead.

Giovanni exhales, his lips pressing into a displeased line. “So naive,” he mutters and takes another drag. “I figured the home would have eroded that away by now. Shame.”

You gape at him, shivering but silent. It’s like he’s reached down your throat and robbed you of speech.

“What do you think happens to people like that girl, hm?” he wonders out loud, slanting his head just so. Even with his hair starting to grey, he’s still handsome, still electric to look at. It’s the coldness of that dark, bottomless stare that sets him apart from others you have met. “She was no better than your parents. Weak. And weak do not survive in this world, they are used and that’s how we live. You could have been like her, but you fought back. That’s why I told you to keep that ice in your heart, yes? There are thousands like that girl and there will be a thousand more, and a thousand more after that. It is the way of the world. I am simply…reaping.”

His cigar flares at the tip again as Giovanni takes a steady drag, savouring the burn of it against the back of his throat.

You want to cry and scream and tear at him. This world—his world—is wrong and twisted and—

But you have chosen it, haven’t you?

Better than being dead.

And you’ve killed and stolen and lied and cheated for years now. You’ve gotten good at it. Better than most. Better than anyone in the home had been.

“Did it break you?”

Your eyes drag back to him, and you realise that you’ve been silent for so long, you’ve started to doze off. Laying in the rain for god knows how long didn’t do you much good. You feel worse and worse with every second that stretches by.

His emotionless question clatters through you though, settling in the pit of your stomach.

Lucie.

Her happy smile flashes through your weary mind and you try to draw breath into your wrecked lungs.

“No.”

It has only made you colder and emptier, you realise. You had laid next to Lucie’s grave because you had hoped for a quick end. But—

But no.

For the second time in your life, you lift your head and look the Devil in the eyes as you choose life.

Whatever form it comes in.

Regardless of what else it will demand of you.

Perhaps, you should be thankful for this lesson.

The head of Camorra nods once, considering you, and then asks a serious, “Do you remember what I told you about loyalty, gasoline girl?”

I reward loyalty.

“Yes.”

It’s an effort to keep your eyes on him. His features are blurring, and you can’t even smell the thick cloud of smoke in the air anymore.

“Who were you loyal to when you killed my people? Your people?”

You don’t hesitate, spitting out a vicious, “To myself. Just as you wanted me to be.”

For a moment, you think that Giovanni D’Antonio will smile at you again. But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns towards the shadows of the room.

“What do you see, Santino?”

You still. You’ve been so preoccupied with keeping yourself awake and lucid, with keeping your whole attention on this man without scruples normal people have that—

It comes rushing back.

The grave, the smell of dirt beneath your cheek, rain, the coldness sinking deep into your bones, green eyes—

He was the one who found you. You have no idea how; a part of you doesn’t want to know, either.

He’s changed as well. His frame stretches taller, leaner, than the last time you saw him. His hair is slightly longer but still curly and neatly combed. That boyish roundness still holds his features, giving him an appearance of a youth instead of a young man and you stare at him with open, dazed animosity.  

But there is something about the way he watches you from the shadows.

His pupils are blown wide open when he steps closer into the light, his shoulders coiled with tension that you have no name for.

He gazes at you like he is looking at something beautiful, something terrible, something—

Something he admires and hates and doesn’t understand.

No one has ever looked at you like that. Like they’re seeing right into you, through you, pulling apart every weakness and every strength.  

That anger in your chest ignites at the sight of him, washing away the emptiness and the loss.

“A monster.”

It seizes a part of you. Cracks it to pieces.

You hate him, you hate him, you hate the fact that he—

That he sees you. Just like last time, just like now.

Giovanni’s eyebrows rise slowly at his son’s blunt assessment. He peers at Santino for a pensive moment before the boy finally drags his eyes towards his father, almost reluctantly so.  

“Loyalty to yourself, was it, girl?” the man wonders calmly and takes another drag of his cigar. It’s almost gone now and black spots dance in your vision as you watch him tilt his chin upwards and exhale another lazy puff of smoke. “Give me your hand.”

You stare at him blankly, uncomprehending, almost nauseous now.

Giovanni turns his stern face back towards you and holds out his own large hand. “Your hand.”

His voice is eerily serene but it locks your muscles with fear. Like an animal being hunted down, even with your hazy, sluggish mind you still recognise the danger crowding in.

But what’s the alternative?

Your hand shakes but you hold it out, setting your jaw taut.

“I reward loyalty,” Giovanni reminds evenly, grasping your hand in his. His hold feels so cold you shiver. “But you still killed ten able bodies. Bodies I will now have to replace.”

“Father—”

Giovanni jerks your hand, palm up, and sinks his cigar right into the skin of your palm, burning right through the thin bandage.

Agony.

Splitting, sickening agony—

A sound that tears out of your throat is hardly human but the man has your arm in an iron-like grip; unmoving, bruising. You collapse face-first onto the cot, your scream growing silent and choked as you jerk weakly, unable to swallow your own spit.

Your hand is numb from a piercing, acute sort of pain.

Giovanni hums under his breath, and you feel him turn the cigar into your skin, making you yelp and twitch. “I hope you live,” he states coldly and pushes the cigar deeper into your palm, just once, before he drops your hand back onto the sheets. “There are a great many things I can do with that ice in your heart, gasoline girl.”

You don’t hear him rise over the sound of your pain. Your hand is spasming but you can’t look at it, can’t focus—

The door slams shut with a deafening bang and then—

Someone is speaking; hushed and soft, their hands on you, almost—

You barely manage to pull yourself over the edge of the cot and throw up before everything goes dark.

. . .

You’re burning.

There is a raging fire in your lungs and veins.

Your head is being held under a liquid flame, and you inhale it as it slithers down your throat, suffocating you.

You want to drag your nails down your body to get rid of the burn but you can’t. Someone—

Someone is holding you down and your lips part, a wounded sound slipping free. Why can’t you just be free?

A heavy weight pushes down on you and you try to fight it off, try to—

“Stop moving,” a voice urges, breathless but annoyed. “Stop—”

You think that you might be crying or screaming or both.

You’re burning.

There is no relief.

Not for a long time.

. . .

“Will she live?”

“It’s hard to say right now. The infection—”

An inpatient exhale. “I know what her condition is,” an irritated voice snaps. “I want to know if she will live.”

“I will try my hardest to save her.”

A lengthy pause follows. “No,” the voice speaks again, but this time with such soft malice that you shiver again. “My father wants her alive and so she will live. Or you will find yourself without a head, dear doctor. As will your family.”

. . .

Cool fingers brush against your hair.

“Lucie?” you rasp weakly and try to open your eyes.

Everything blurs around you so you let them close again.

Sickness cramps your stomach and you shiver for what seems like the hundredth time.

Still, the sensation of a glass pressing against your lips registers. Urgent, insistent. “Drink.”

It’s an order. Spoken by someone who is used to being listened to, obeyed, heeded.

You don’t want to but you’re so thirsty. There’s a painful itch in your lungs and you inhale again, deafened by the crackling in your lungs. Whatever it is that you’re wearing clings to your body in a sweaty, uncomfortable mess and you almost sigh when those cool fingers return. They press against your cheek, turning your head and the glass returns.

This time, you force your cracked lips to part and refreshing wetness slides down your throat seconds later. Flinching, you force yourself to swallow. The sensation is like a knife being forced down your chest but you bear it.

The fingers tilt your chin. “Slowly.”

You manage another few, shaky mouthfuls before your strength escapes you.

“Are you—”

The fragility of your own cracking voice might have disgusted you once. There had been plenty of times in the past when you had seen and heard Fredricko peeling back peoples’ fingernails to get the information he needed. That often resulted in such weakness—such fragility. Now though—

“Are you…”

Something freezing cold and wet comes to rest against your forehead and you sigh, gasping slightly. A wet cloth. A miracle, perhaps. It soothes the burning and the itch. It trails down your forehead and jaw and neck. Brushes over your dry lips, too. You almost sob in relief, making a miserable little whine at the back of your throat.

“Are…”

A quiet hum. “Am I what?”

“An angel?”

The cloth disappears for a few moments and you curl into a ball, silently willing it to come back.

A few moments later, mercifully, it does. As does the voice. “No.”

You lean into the refreshing cold again. Try to hide your disappointment, too.

The cloth presses against your forehead and stays there. A beat. Then, fingers ghost over your tightly clenched hand. Your other hand—

There is only numbness there.

An odd sense of fear follows that foggy observation. Like you’re forgetting something you shouldn’t—something important.

The fingers are delicate and careful but they help. They pacify that nameless, gnawing dread.

“Would you like me to be?”

There is a long moment in which you have no idea what the voice is asking. But your muddy mind finally manages to claw back a recollection of your earlier question.

An angel.

You think that the owner of this voice is an idiot.

He no doubt thinks that you mean a guardian angel. Something holy, fierce, and divine.  

But you had meant the Angel of Death. Finally here to take you. Finally here to reunite you with those you have lost.  

But is there any difference anymore?  

You’ve been half-dead and half-alive for years now.

A foot on the doorway to death ever since that fateful night. You have embraced it though. Bargained and stolen and killed. What you did for Lucie was just a fraction, you think through the delirium, just a fraction of what you can do.

You will turn that ice in your heart into a blade, and that blade you will use to cut down anyone in your path.

No half-measures, no mercy. You will be as terrible as they want you to be.

You will be the most terrible thing they have ever seen.

And when it’s done.

Oh, when it’s done.

You will set it all on fire and watch it burn.

“Yes.”

The fingers pause, hovering. Then they wrap around your still clenched hand. Slow but purposeful.

And the tightness of that grip makes you think that your hand will never be your own again.

. . .

an: wellllllllllllll, here’s that! Warning you all now that, yes, this story will get even more twisty and Santino/V will be hate-to...uh...love? We’ll see, I guess lol. Some familiar faces will appear in the future, too. And, uh, maybe some smuttiness is on the cards as well but you know how I roll - nothing too wild or explicit because this clown sucks at nsfw. 

Also because I have no idea when or how often this mini-series will be updated, I will be opening up a tag list for this series ONLY (I rarely do them because they’re often more work than they’re worth). So please feel free to comment or send me a message and I’ll add you. Thank you so much for reading!! Any feedback would be swell. <33  

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

Talk + Vodka = Truth (Marvel AU)

Plot: AU The Avenger caught the blonde stalking him for the past few weeks and he wants answers.

Characters: Hawkeye/Ronin!Changbin (SKZ) x Yelena Belova!Felix (SKZ), plus mention of Black Widow!Minho, Kate Bishop!Yeji, and other MARVEL characters

Rating: PG-13 (Language, spy behaviors, the Snap/the Blip, Red Room, assassin work, death, drinking, mention of PTSD)

Notes: This one shot is based on the MARVEL x SKZ moodboards I’ve been making for fun. The story is set between the events after Black Widow, Avengers: Endgame, and before the Hawkeye Disney+ show. If you’ve not watched the first two films and wish to avoid spoilers, please skip this story. Additionally, the contents of this one-shot are fictional and were created for fun.

Happy Birthday Changbin!

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

“You sure you’re old enough to be here, Kid?”

The blonde rolled his eyes, before reaching into his jacket to produce an ID.

The waiter and the man seated across from him watched as the ID was handed over. The former scanned the front and sighed as he passed it back to the blonde.

“Sorry, guess The Blip screwed you over - you look young for your age,” the waiter apologized. “What can I get you?”

“Vodka,” the blonde replied. “How much for the bottle?”

Changbin raised a brow and stared at the young man seated across from him. This guy could put away a whole bottle of vodka? It didn’t seem right, plus that was pretty unhealthy to be drinking that much. 

“Let me check with the bartender on that,” the waiter said. He turned to face Changbin and asked if he wanted the usual.

“Unless he intends to drink the entire bottle, I’ll take whatever vodka he wants,” Changbin responded.

The waiter excused himself and went to check on the vodka situation.

“Drinking a whole bottle of vodka in one go is bad for your liver,” Changbin noted as he folded his hands in front of him.

The blonde snorted and quipped that Changbin sounded like his brother. The comment made the Avenger raise a brow and he straightened up in his seat.

“The bottle is gonna cost you $35, tip not included,” the waiter announced when he returned.

Before Changbin could grab his wallet, the blonde beat him to it and placed a crumpled $50 into the waiter’s hand. “Keep the change.”

The waiter unfolded the bill and immediately left to grab the bottle and some glasses for serving. The place wasn’t busy for the early to mid-afternoon, but Changbin had a feeling the waiter wasn’t used to getting a larger than average tip during this time. The pair watched as the waiter returned within seconds with the bottle and two glasses.

Changbin flashed the waiter a light smile and told him to take it easy. He slid the bottle closer and opened it, before pouring some of the contents into one glass and nudging it across the table. “So, wanna tell me who the hell you are and why you’ve been stalking me for 2.5 weeks?”

The blonde barely had the glass raised to his lips when he heard the questions. He looked up from his glass and parted his lips slightly in shock. This made the Avenger snicker as he poured some vodka into the other glass for himself.

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

About a month and a half after burying Tony and Minho, Changbin noticed that the same blonde guy would show up in various places around the same time. The guy tried to be less obvious with disguises and using remote ways to track him, but after working with Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. for years, the Avenger’s picked up on people attempting to trail him.

Earlier today, he sensed he was being followed and urged his new protege to take Lucky and get somewhere safe. Sure Yeji gave him lip for trying to protect her, but the last thing he’d want is for her to get killed, thanks to someone hunting for him. Once the young woman had left with the dog, he hung around the area and pulled his bow on the blonde, who had a regular sidearm pointed at him. For a while, he tried urging the blonde to drop the gun before he shot first, but the blonde remained defiant with his gun pointed at the Avenger. What made them stand down was the sound of a siren and the blonde looked a little concerned when he heard the alarm.

Changbin made up his mind and told the young man to follow him so they could get under cover somewhere to finish the matter. He chose this hole-in-the-wall place that he visited at times during The Blip, often sitting and brooding over his missing family in between kills.

The blonde swore in Russian and put his glass down. “All right Old Man, I’ll make this easy for both of us. Name’s Felix. My employer told me you killed my brother and that I’m supposed to bring you in. But before I do that, why did you do it? He was telling me before The Blip that the Avengers were his real family, not me or our parents.”

Changbin tilted his head as he looked closely at the blonde across from him. If the kid wasn’t an assassin, he looked like the good kid you’d find in a suburban neighborhood, probably playing sports and making lots of friends. But the Russian, the mention of his brother again – wait, was this...?

“Min,” he offered in a soft voice.

The blonde nodded sharply and he picked up his glass again. “He’s dead, thanks to you. I’d like to know why you killed him, before I decide if I wanna bring you in dead or alive.”

The Avenger stiffened when he heard the accusation. His partner told him to go for counseling after fighting Thanos, as he was suffering terribly from losing Tony and Minho. Talking to the counselor about Minho was hard and the former couldn’t convince him that it wasn’t his fault that Minho insisted he sacrifice himself for the Soul Stone. Telling his kids that their Uncle Min wasn’t coming home was horrible, as they asked where he was and talked about their favorite memories of the red-haired “uncle” they had come to love.

“Do you know anything about Thanos and the Infinity Stones in that goddamn gauntlet he wore?” Changbin asked after prolonged silence.

When Felix shrugged, Changbin sighed and pushed his glass away as he recounted the attempts to stop Thanos from killing Vision for the Mind Stone, losing everyone he knew, then trying to get the stones again to undo what happened 5 years ago.

“It was the shrinking guy’s idea, some kind of time heist,” Changbin said. “Minho and I went to some planet in space, while the others went elsewhere in time for the other stones. We get there, this creepy red skeleton guy tells us that one of us has to sacrifice ourselves –”

“So you chose my brother?”

“YOH! I wasn’t done talking, you little shit,” Changbin snapped as he narrowed his eyes. He took a deep breath and groaned as he tried to explain what happened next. This was the hard part whenever he went to therapy – it was difficult to talk about Vormir without getting choked up and replaying the images of Minho using a stun function in his cuff to distract him, and Changbin trying to grab his hand to stop the former spy.

“Damn it, I told him I was supposed to do it!” Changbin yelled as he slammed his fist on the table. “He actually tried to keep shit together after The Blip. Me, I, I lost it. I lost my whole family. My partner. My kids. All while we were at home, having a normal day. Then I went out and I hunted down every bad guy, every gang, every criminal organization, everyone that survived and didn’t deserve it!”

The Avenger hung his head and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep it together without crying. He could hear Minho’s voice, urging him to let go of his hand on Vormir.

“Let me go.”

                                        “No. Please don’t.”

“It’s okay...”

The blonde took small sips from his glass as he watched and listened to the Avenger. Despite hating his time in the Red Room, he has to give his instructors some credit for teaching him the art of lying and reading a target’s body language. Based on what he’s seeing right now, the Avenger is telling the truth and Minho actually sacrificed his life to save the world. Which means, his employer lied or she exaggerated the story a bit, just to force him to cut his time off short. It wouldn’t surprise him – Val refused his request for a pay raise before handing over Changbin’s information for his next assignment.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m working for a female version of Dreykov, Felix thought. He put his glass down and stared across the table at the Avenger.

“Surprisingly, I believe you,” Felix replied. “Last time I saw my brother, he was going on about how he was trying to do good and forget about...yeah, well he was telling me how great things were with the Avengers before the Accords.” He played with his glass and tilted his head slightly. “You weren’t...dating my brother, were you?”

Changbin jerked his head up at the question and he paused for a few seconds, before laughing loudly. The blonde shot him a quizzical look and Changbin shook his head as he tried to compose himself.

“Oh man no, no way. Min was my colleague and sometimes, he thought it was funnier to ignore most of the shit I said,” Changbin said. “I swear he did it to piss me off, but other than that, we were friends.” He propped his elbow on the table and looked thoughtful as he recalled their mission in Budapest.

“He ever tell you about Budapest?”

Felix nodded and recounted his story of running from Dreykov’s project, otherwise known as Taskmaster, while protecting a serum to remove the brainwashing effect on the other Widows. “He makes me bleed out a bit, then we’re crammed in an air vent. An air vent. Think I saw tic-tac-toe games scratched inside the vent.”

“Wait, in the subway?”

“You mean it was the same vent you two hid in after you tried to kill Dreykov?” Felix asked. “That must have been...”

“Oh that was a weird three days!” Changbin laughed. “He got so annoyed by me complaining that I was hungry and said I was too loud. Once we got outta Budapest, he complained on the Quinjet that it was amazing I had someone in my life at all. But wait, what do you mean by ‘tried to kill Dreykov’? I thought Min said it was a hit – I saw the building go up in flames after the guy’s daughter went in. Don’t tell me that guy’s your employer.”

Felix made a face and he picked up his glass again.

“We’re going to be here a while...”

[shijiujun]

The Lost Tomb Reboot Season 2 Episodes 1-8 - Recap & Review

MAJOR SPOILERS below the cut!!! DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T WANT SPOILERS!!! (I’m tagging #chongqispoilers if you wanna block it for the next three weeks heh)

But first I would like everyone to know that Xiao Bai has been sworn sibling-zoned as fourth sister to Big Brother Xiao Ge, Second Brother Pang Zi and Third Brother Wu Xie (Ep 3/4)

And also secondly, WU XIE GETS HIS OWN TEAM?!! AND THEY ALL HANDSOME MEN!!! INCLUDING THAT DOCTOR!!! So it’s apparently the antagonistic frenemy doctor from Season 1 (like actual S1, not Reunion S1), and damn he damn frickin handsome in this one okay guys?!!! Like I AM IN LOVE!!! AND HE FIRSTLY SAVES WU XIE, THEN TAKES CARE OF WU XIE SO WELL EVEN THOUGH HE KEEPS CURSING WU XIE TO DIE SOON LMAO (Ep 8)

So yes I’m telling all of you guys how much I frickin love that doctor - I am absolutely in LOVE <333 He’s so capable?! And he talks about Xiao Ge and Er Shu with so much familiarity? He totally like takes charge with a critical eye, no nonsense, just starts commanding people. Hates Wu Xie but then doesn’t wake him up when they arrive at their destination so he can sleep more because HE BE DYING SOON? AND THEN PATS WU XIE TO TELL HIM NOT TO BE RASH when Wu Xie wants to rush to help, and then offers to go in his stead without another word (EVEN THO HE HATES HIM?!!) 

A NEW SHIP HAS BEEN BORN FOR ME OKAY?!!! I’M SORRY PINGXIE RIGHT NOW I SHIP DOCTOR/XIE TOO!!!

And yes I binge-watched all eight episodes today and damn too much shit happened!!!

Eps 1-2:

OKAY THE DEATH ZONE AREA in Warehouse 11 finished up way faster than I thought it would to be honest, and it’s a little anti-climactic but that’s okay, but anyway it’s hilarious that there are two people still living in Si Dang Qu to guide Wu Xie and Xiao Bai, and okay CREEP FACTOR IS UP OKAY!!! Wow damn it so many tentacles?!!!

Anyway, Wu Xie and Xiao Bai are not supposed to go into Si Dang Qu but they do it anyway, Xiao Bai gets electrocuted and then some, and they meet two weird people in Si Dang Qu, and also the funniest thing is that there is WIFI IN THIS GOD-FORSAKEN DEEP HOLE (IT’S TWO DEEP HOLES BY THE WAY) and these two people are just like hello guys, we live here, let me point you to where there’s wifi.

And then they both seem to make it out just fine even though San Shu was stuck there for like more than three years, and boom these two make it out in less than 24 hours - Wu Xie gets fired, Xiao Bai is suspended, Jia Ke Zi (they guy with the good hearing back in Warehouse 11, also VERY HANDSOME) and Li Jia Le were also fired because they were working with the bad Supervisor Ding from Reunion Season 1, and then!!!

I think the most touching part is every single warehouse person like sending him off standing in the surveillance room in the dark, watching as he walks out? I mean, not discounting the people who are genuinely like “DAMN YES, CAN WE GO BACK TO OUR NORMAL LIVES NOW TYVM”, I just felt really touched that they all feel enough for Wu Xie and he’s actually made some impact on their lives or smth, so much so that they’re willing to watch him go off

Eps 3-6:

Okay so Xue Wu Ye, the bad guy, big brother number five, is plotting something, but that’s for later. Wu Xie heads home, and starts researching again - they decide to go back to the place where they found Yang Da Guang’s body to find more clues. In between, he meets up with Xiao Bai for dinner, they get drunk, Pang Zi turns up to pick em up but gets drunk too, then they all swear to be siblings with kebabs, like literally, in place of joss sticks. It’s all filmed by the shop owners. Xiao Bai is crying because NO DAMN SHE WANNA BE WU XIE WIFEY, NOT WU XIE FOURTH SISTER

And anw at the place, they find another map and Wu Xie gets electrocuted and faints, and then they manage to call Er Shu who’s about to head into a cave with Xiao Ge and everyone else - They do a video call, and damn it’s so cute to see Wu Xie and Pang Zi going “XIAO GE XIAO GE WE’RE HERE!!!” And then they go in, but they meet a trap, Xiao Ge and Hei Xia Zi are trapped and considered dead, and Er Shu is in trouble. Kan Jian manages to call Wu Xie and then Wu Xie gets him to tap out morse code message, and sure enough, XIAO GE AND HEI XIA ZI ARE ALIVE. But Xiao Ge says there’s a mole, and so they all pretend they’re dead, then Kan Jian and Jing Shu promise Wu Xie they’ll get Er Shu out, and Kan Jian sends Wu Xie coordinates to their location and then he goes MIA

At the same time, Xue Wu Ye has found out about Er Shu’s predicament (or was part of it) and his role is to basically snatch over the Wu family’s business. I’m not going to go into details, but anyway Wu Xie and Pang Zi are like bullied really badly by them, but good news is Piao Piao, Pang Zi’s gf, finally realizes he’s the one who helped her daughter out and then they affirm their feelings for each other. However, Piao Piao decides to still be undercover at Xue Wu Ye’s place - unfortunately, he finds out and as she’s fleeing, a truck hits her and she dies FUCK THIS SHIT.

Then Wu Xie nearly dies AGAIN, AND THAT’S WHEN THEY MEET HANDSOME FRENEMY DOCTOR!!! WHO REFUSES TO SAVE HIM FIRST, BUT THEN DOES!!!

Eps 7-8:

AT THE SAME TIME TOO, the mute girl, who’s Hei Xia Zi’s potential girlfriend, is captured by big bad Boss Jiao but she can talk now. And then he kills her too apparently!!! WHICH IS LIKE WHAT THE FUCK CAN WE PLS DON’T KILL ALL THE WOMEN IN THIS STORY?!! But her death isn’t super confirmed, because she falls but no body, no confirmed death in this show, damn it. Unfortunately, Piao Piao is legit ;-; and Pang Zi and Wu Xie only find out way later because Xue Wu Ye hid it from them that motherfucker!!!

Anyway, Xue Wu Ye’s plan is to basically take over the Wu family’s business and to prevent Wu Xie from gathering resources and a team to go and save Er Shu - so Wu Xie’s goal is to get money, defeat Xue Wu Ye and go find Er Shu.

Wu Xie schemes and then he manages to defeat Xue Wu Ye for good, and Xiao Bai goes to find Jia Ke Zi (omg who’s so sad, because while he was away, his wife cheated on him?!! and won’t let him return to his home?!!) and Li Jia Le is getting cheated out of daily salary working at a construction place, when Xiao Bai finds them for the job.

THEN THE TEAM ASSEMBLES!!!! Xiao Bai turns up with the two guys, and then FRENEMY DOCTOR TURNS UP TO MAKE SURE WU XIE DOESN’T DIE ON THE WAY!!! And he’s really fricking handy, and like I said above while Wu Xie is sleeping in the car, he makes sure no one disturbs him. The rest of the team survey the place and then he’s like, “Guys, what’s the use of hiring and bringing y’all if Wu Xie has to do everything himself? We’ll split up.”

And leaves Wu Xie sleeping in the car I WEEP!!!!

=======

Thoughts on this:

Not gonna lie, the front parts in Warehouse 11 are a bit like... illogical to me and done too quickly, but I guess it doesn’t always have to make sense. I’m still quite sad Piao Piao died?!! And that mute girl might be dead?!!! I can’t wait for the reunion which seems to be coming up soon, but I AM REALLY, SO HAPPY THAT WU XIE HAS A TEAM OF HIS OWN DAMN IT. 

Also really worried about Er Shu and the identity of the mole, HOPING IT’S NOT LIU SANG OR JING SHU OR KAN JIAN PLS!!!!

So far the Wu Xie Fainting Count is - 2 in 8 episodes.

There are 2 more eps each for Monday and Tuesday, cannot wait for FOUND FAMILY VIBES DAMN IT!!! THEY BETTER NOT BREAK UP MY FAMILY!!! 

And srsly I hope handsome doctors survives because... I really like him HAHAHA

[ethelphantom]

What’s a Soulmate?

Heeeeeyyy so I'm here again even though I'm totally supposed to be studying for my upcoming exam week (I've got seven exams coming once Thursday arrives on every single day except for the weekend. Oh well.

This is based on the What's a Soulmate? audio thing that went around a lot more before, and I've been wanting to write something based on it for years now. So. You're getting a Daminette fic based on it.

If you're still HOPEFULLY reading this, here's a little thing. This fic WILL get very angsty (like, heavy angst and grief and death and stuff) BUT it will also get way better later. There's a happy ending, their story will get a happy ending, and this will NOT end like Of Flowers and Strawberries, I swear, seriously. Pinky promise and all that. So, once you get there, just keep reading. You'll get your happy ending.

Ao3 || The audio

This is Maribat -- don’t like, don’t read.

________

“What's a soulmate?”

A girl with black hair leans against a boy around her age, his hair just as black as hers. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and kisses her forehead like the rest of the world didn’t matter. Their intertwined fingers bring them comfort as they watch the sunset on the horizon, painting the world in warm, calming tones of red, orange and yellow.

It doesn’t matter that they know their time is limited. They are together now, and that is all that mattered in the world.

After all, the memories they had together were everything.

“It's a… Well, it's like a best friend, but more.”

“I hope you two have a good explanation for this.”

The girl looks at the boy, both considering their next words carefully. They absolutely cannot let his older brother know how the kitchen and garden caught on fire at the same time as though on cue even though they weren’t even in the house, because everyone else is too scared to do such a thing. Especially with the butler still in the house, prepared to scold them and take away their rights to spend time together for a while.

Maybe they would deserve it and all, but it doesn’t matter. The children do not want to spend any less time together regardless of their actions.

“We have three, actually,” the girl says and tilts her head with feigned innocence. All of them know she’s responsible for whatever she’s being accused of this time, just like the boy is, but they don’t really care. If there’s anyone that could pull off looking innocent while covered in blood and then get away with murder, it would be her. No doubt.

“Pick your favourite,” the boy tells his older brother, only to make him exasperated and sigh as he buries his head in his hands. It seems they’re going to get away with it again. Like always. They never have the energy to deal with the both of them at once. Perhaps going over this with one of them at a time wouldn't be too much to him, but as it is, he tried to save time and scold both of them at once.

“Fine, you can go,” his brother finally tells them and leaves, muttering something about children being impossible and him not understanding how they keep succeeding.

The boy grabs the girl’s hand and squeezes it. “I told you, Malaki, didn’t I? We can do anything together, even survive my older brother’s intervention.”

“So you did, mon cœur. So you did.”

—

“What’s the plan for our next grand scheme?”

“I have an idea!”

“That’s wonderful. What is it?”

“Well, it involves fire—”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

After all, they ended up getting along like a house on fire.

“It's the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else.”

If there was one place in the world where you’d least expect to find either of them, it would probably be under the table in a gala. Yet, times and times again, that was exactly where one of them always found the other. Usually, crying or at the very least uncomfortable with the situation around them.

The year they announced they were engaged to one another to the world was the first (and perhaps last) time this didn’t happen even though they weren’t comfortable in the least with the people around them. They weren’t even allowed to be with each other as people crowded each of them separately, asking how and when and why everything happened. After all, they had kept their relationship secret until now.

From the corner of his eye, Damian noticed the clear discomfort on his habibti’s face. No one was allowed to do that to her. None of them even noticed how horrible they were making her feel — she was on the brink of tears but kept smiling through it. They didn’t give her any personal space, not even space to breathe. His habibti was strong, but this wasn't a situation when she should need to be.

Damian made his way through the crowds to Marinette, not caring for a second if it meant having to push people out of his way with force, if it meant someone might get hurt because of him and his actions. All that mattered (and the only one that mattered) was his habibti and that she was not comfortable.

As he saw someone with a glass full of wine, he got a great idea. He made sure he walked into them, or that they walked into him, and that their drink would spill on him. He detested the feeling of being in wet clothing and smelling like alcohol more than he could even begin to explain, but what wouldn’t he do for his beloved.

The person began apologising over and over to Damian, him being his father’s heir and all, but he just glared at them and walked off to his fiancée.

“Malaki, I am afraid this imbecile spilled their drink on me, and you know how much I hate smelling like alcohol. Could you perhaps help me clean up and change into dry clothing?” he asked, knowing he sounded exactly like the rich, arrogant, self-centered, entitled brat he was raised to be and everyone thought he truly was. It was fine, as long as it was for her and she knew what he was doing.

“Look at him, forcing her to leave such a wonderful event for him. To help him when he could very well do so by himself. So selfish.”

“Shut it! If he hears you, you might get kicked out! He’s the son of Bruce Wayne!”

“Well, if he wanted his only biological son not to be bad-mouthed, he ought to not take him to this kind of places.”

Damian didn’t pay any attention to them and just held her hand, as though ready to drag her away with him. Both of them knew that was not what it was for, though. It was reassurement that he was there for her, that he was going to save her if she so wished.

The squeeze of his hand confirmed Marinette did want it.

“Of course I will. Let’s go. I’ll have Tim inform your father about this,” she said, trying not to look so relieved to get away, but the look in her eyes betrayed it to him easily.

Damian kissed her hand and led her away through the masses, ignoring any and all unpleasant comments directed at him. He knew she was uncomfortable, and for her, he would do anything, he could take anything, he could endure anything.

After all, Marinette was his everything.

“It's someone who makes you a better person.”

A long time ago, Damian thought he could get anything and everything at the snap of his fingers because he was the grandson of the Ra’s al Ghul, and then he thought he could have everyone at his every beck and call because he was the blood son and the legal heir of the Bruce Wayne. Of the Batman. They would start dancing to his music the second he told them so, that much was sure.

And he treated people like one would expect him to precisely because of that mindset no one ever helped him to lose.

He could get anything he wanted, and he was sure that even the most expensive things in the world where obtainable because he had the money. Or, his father had, but it wasn’t like he wouldn’t have gotten anything he wanted anyway.

Dying certainly didn’t ease things. After all, his father and mother had gone to great lengths only to resurrect him. That must have meant he was worth more than others. He was worth more than his brothers. Of course he was, he was his father’s true son. If they had died, the rest would have stayed dead; no one would have desperately tried to find a way to get them back.

People around him didn’t matter, no matter whether they were family or foe. If he didn’t need them, he could simply discard them and show them he didn’t care at all. Because he didn’t. Even if he needed them, he rarely spoke to them with much respect — the only ones that he thought deserved his respect were his father, Alfred, his mother and his grandfather. No one else mattered.

And then…

Then there was a girl.

No, there was the girl.

The girl who saw him.

Someone who took one look at him and decided that no, she was not going to do whatever he wanted her to no matter who he was because she was her own person and he did not own her. She did not belong to him, she did not owe him anything. She looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw how lonely his behaviour and actions made him.

“Marinette. My name is Marinette.”

Yes, Marinette was the first to actually see him and see through him. He kept trying to push her away, but she was determined to see things through as long as she didn’t make him uncomfortable — and she knew exactly when to back off even when he wasn’t able to express his discomfort. Every. Single. Time.

Slowly, as time passed by, they became friends. He started to see the value of his family, understand their lives were worth something. Marinette smiled when talked about his brothers with a hint of respect for the first time near her.

Then best friends. He knew he valued his family a lot, they were worth so much it didn’t take him even half of a second to go to their defense, even if he still hardly showed any of the care he held for his family to them. Marinette beamed when he admitted he loved them for the first time. She threw herself at him and hugged him tight when he made an offhand comment about other people he didn’t even know having some kind of a basic worth because they were human.

It took a long time, but as she snuggled closer to him and he kissed her forehead while they watched the fire dance in the hearth, he knew that there was something he could never obtain with money or fame. There was one thing more precious than any other, one thing that he could only get once he admitted he was only rich in the literal sense of the word.

Marinette had made him understand that he would only be rich once he had something he couldn’t buy with money — something that had a name, a face and feelings. Something that could walk away if he fucked up. Something that loved him and that he loved back with all his heart.

Or perhaps, someone rather than something.

Damian learnt that other people were valuable when he finally let Marinette show and teach him that the world was also a good place that held so many opportunities to learn from if he just knew to look for them.

And truly, Damian learnt that other people mattered, regardless of whether they were family or foe, because they were human. He wouldn’t need to like all of them and he could hold some people more dear to him than others, but no one was worth nothing.

But he knew that Marinette would still be the most precious and valuable thing he could ever have, and god forbid if he didn’t do his damnedest to make sure she knew that and that he wouldn’t lose her.

After all, Marinette was worth everything.

“Actually, they don't make you a better person,”

“I’m glad you came into Damian’s life, Teacup,” Dick told Marinette one day while they were watching Damian and Jason spar. Tim was working as a referee, Marinette and Dick were there simply to enjoy themselves and make sure Damian and Jason didn’t kill each other… or Tim. All of the three were a little too important to them for them to lose.

“What do you mean?” she asked in turn though she didn’t take her eyes off her boy. She was cheering for him, albeit quietly, because she knew there was a chance she could be a distraction and that meant Jason’s win.

“Your love for him is so…” Dick seemed to try and search for a fitting word as he tilted his head, “unconditional . No matter what he does, you still love him and accept him, so long as he understands how his actions may affect others and then does accordingly. You don’t let him push you away, but you also don’t let him walk over you or hurt you if you can help it. You’re good to him.”

“But you do that as well, don’t you?”

“No. I mean, yeah, I do, but it’s more out of obligation as his family. Even I might not be able to tolerate him as much as you have if I were not his older brother. But you, you came into his life and stayed. You’ve changed him and made him a better person.”

Marinette stayed quiet for a while after that, watching the boys solemnly. She rested her head in her hands and sighed before she closed her eyes. “No,” she said and shook her head. “I have not made him a better person.”

“But you—”

“Dick, no. He’s changed, yes, and I know he’s changed the most after I came into his life, but perhaps it’s just that he needed a different perspective to things. He kept pushing everyone away but he was lonely, so the least I could do was to be there and stay there. Or help him find someone else. All that’s changed in him… it was all him. People don’t change that much if they aren’t willing to, but he actively and consciously worked on himself to become a better person. Don’t take that credit away from him and give it to me,” she replied.

Dick huffed with a smile on his face. Marinette certainly was good for Damian. That boy better not fuck it up.

As Damian won and Jason lay on the ground, defeated, Marinette jumped up and cheered before she ran to Damian and tackled him on the ground with a hug. Dick smiled and walked to his family, congratulating both of his brothers. He was glad she was in their lives, in Damian’s life, because she had so much love to give, and while she was not good at taking, Damian was determined to make sure she couldn’t go without receiving a lot in return.

Because after all, she loved him with her everything, and he too loved her everything.

“you do that yourself…”

Changing oneself was more difficult than Damian wanted to admit. Everything had always been so easy to him (or at least it had been far less difficult than this was), so much had just been handed to him.

But this?

Yeah, no. He hated it and he didn’t want to do it. It was annoying, he didn’t want to change, and all of this was so horrible.

The thing was, it didn’t matter that he didn’t want it — for himself, at least. The reason as to why he needed to do it was because there was someone he couldn’t keep treating like he did now. That also meant having to change. He wanted to change for her, he wanted to be able to give her what she deserved — and she deserved so much good. Damian couldn’t let himself keep being like he was now.

Marinette loved and loved and loved, and she kept coming back to him no matter how he was like to her. She didn’t give up. That said, whenever he went too far, she didn’t hesitate to call him out, sometimes even in front of other people, even if she did it politely and didn’t try to insult or offend him in any way — no, she went out of her way to try and avoid it, because, to quote her, “no one, even you, should be treated like that, because everyone deserves being shown respect.”

Well, he was fairly sure she always mumbled something about a Lila not deserving respect, but he decided to ignore it… for now.

And so, he looked up what he could do to change and started doing those things actively. Or trying to do so, anyway.

He found himself biting his tongue more often than he ever had just to keep himself from saying something that Marinette deemed offensive or insulting to other people. He started reading people to find what were their weak points, not because he wanted to hurt them, but because he wanted to avoid doing so. And maybe it was a bit because if they dared to hurt his friends, he would know perfectly how and where to strike them.

Then, once he knew how to do that and didn’t need to pay as much attention to it as he had at the beginning, he started trying to do one kind thing to people every day — and someone other than Marinette, Jon or Colin. To them he managed to be an alright person more often than any other people. Sometimes it was helping them with their schoolwork, sometimes it was defending someone from harassment or bullying, sometimes it was as simple as being polite and thanking them. Like Marinette told him, he didn’t need to conquer the world for anyone — on the days he was too tired to do much, the simple “thank you” or holding a door open for someone was more than enough.

And slowly but surely, he started finding himself feeling better. It was easier to let go of anger, his relationships with other people improved, he didn’t snap at people all so easily. It was rather refreshing to, for once, hear other people say something positive about him instead of complaining about his actions.

All because he had once decided Marinette deserved better than him, but he still wanted to be the one beside her. That had meant working on himself to become the person he thought she deserved, a person worthy of her.

After all, she deserved everything.

“...because they inspire you.”

“Hey, Damian?”

“Yes, Malaki? What is it you’re thinking about?”

Marinette massaged Damian’s hand with her thumb, trying to decide how she wanted to voice her thoughts.

“I— I’m proud of you,” she finally decided. Marinette smiled at her boyfriend, happy she was able to spend time with him. “You’ve grown so much in the past few years and even months I’ve known you. I’m not sure what is the main reason for that, but that doesn’t matter, I’m just happy you seem to be doing better nowadays. Are you?”

Damian huffed and squeezed her hand. “Yes, I am. And you, sadiqti alhabiba (my beloved girlfriend), you were what drove me to change. You deserve so much and I wanted to be worthy of you and worthy of your love,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss on her lips. “And I thank you for that.”

Chuckling, Marinette leant against him and closed her eyes, knowing that she was safe as long as he was with her. She didn’t need to be on her guard all the time.

“You’re a fool.”

“A fool? Perhaps, but then I am a fool in love with the angel who decided I was worth fighting for.”

After all, she thought he was worth her time.

“A soulmate is someone who you can carry with you forever.”

His breathing got significantly faster as he frantically tried to look for his beloved, and once his eyes landed on her body some metres away, they widened in horror. He could only barely see her from the smoke that obscured his vision, but the blood staining the ground and her petite body was more than easy to spot.

He kicked the man in front of him away, with much more force than he knew was necessary, but it didn’t matter to him — he just needed to get to her. Nothing else mattered right at that moment.  

Damian ran towards his beloved, coughing the smoke out of his lungs. He covered his mouth and nose to keep himself from breathing all of it, but his hand fell when he finally saw Marinette in front of him.

Dead.

Her eyes were wide open, red from all the impurities in the air, and the streams of her tears were still visible on her face as ash and dust had dyed them dark. Her mouth was still open in a silent scream that never got out of her lungs, because there was a clear bullet shot gone through the left side of her chest and a blade had impaled her throat.

Why, oh why hadn’t she worn her miraculous suit that day?

Why had he let her go out without it?

And why had he let her come with him — he knew they were up against the League of Assassins.

Damian gathered her small body in his arms, bringing her close to his chest and holding her tight. He’d be damned if he let anything worse happen to her, he’d be damned if he let her body be taken away from her.

“You—” Damian choked out the word and tried to keep his tears at bay, batting them away from his eyes. “You made me love you— you made me let you in and you—” He breathed in sharply and tried to regain his composure, but it was nearly impossible. He clutched her tighter in his arms as though she was just injured and he needed to get her away from there…

But he knew that wasn’t possible. “And then you died in my arms.” The last words were barely breathed out because he couldn’t— he wasn’t able to get his voice out. It was stuck in his throat along with the lump that made it so hard to breathe, so hard to stay up and standing when he would have rather crumbled then and there.

“You’re on your own!” he yelled to his comms, knowing he didn’t need to but he couldn’t help it right then and there. He could only hope Red Robin and Red Hood were alright with it, that they would survive without him and Marinette, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to fight longer than this without needing to kill the ones that were the reason his beloved was dead.

There was no doubt about it. If he stayed, he would kill the ones that were the reason they were even fighting to make them pay.

...And she would not be happy about it.

As it turned out, they won. Both his mother and grandfather were dead, the League was gone from the face of the earth (they would create it again one day, but they were gone for now and that was better than it had been for the longest time now. His beloved’s death wasn’t in vain.

Her funeral was a quiet affair.

It wouldn’t have even been necessary as she had wanted to be cremated, but he had insisted on it. Damian wouldn’t have wanted her to be cremated, but he knew it had been her request so he never attempted to not let it happen. That’s why the least he could do was to make sure there was at least a funeral for her. He dressed up in white and black for the funeral, which was the reason he stood out in the crowd, but he couldn't care less.

He was allowed to keep his wife’s ashes in their home, though he did spread some of them around the Wayne family’s lands since she had enjoyed spending time there a lot. Damian needed to make sure that her last place (or places, he supposed) of rest would be one she loved— no, had loved, because she was dead now — when she was still there in the world with him. She had been too young to die. They had barely graduated from university a few years earlier. She didn’t deserve it.

His brothers tried to console her. They really did. Cain tried her best as well, just staying there with him in silence while each of them did their own thing, letting the other one grieve. It was nice. If there was anything good about Marinette’s death, it was that he ended up getting closer with his family.

Not that he preferred having better relationships with them — he would have chosen his beloved over them any day.

On the first anniversary of her death he crumbled against their dinner table and tried to hold onto the table as he fell on his knees under the weight of his suppressed grief and agony. Damian could feel tears running down his face until he knew all he could do was to let it be, and so he sobbed.

“Oh god, why can’t you be here? I should have been the first of us to die, not— not you.”

He had trouble breathing and he could only take short, sharp breaths. All he needed was to be able to hold his wife, his beloved, but that was the only thing he would never be able to do anymore.

Later that night Drake — no, Timothy, because maybe he deserved that much for dealing with him that night without making fun of him even once — came over and just forced Damian to the sofa and gave him food he had bought before that. After that, he used Alfred’s recipe for an Irish coffee to calm him down a little.

Timothy let him set the pace — if Damian wanted to talk, he was allowed to and Timothy would sit there in silence, listening to him, unless it was clear he wanted Timothy’s thoughts on the matter, or they would both be quiet, and at some point Damian was rather sure they had watched a few movies without really sleeping. Eventually, the coffee had him rather tired and he fell asleep, leaning against Timothy’s shoulder.

Come the morning, and Timothy was still there. He even offered Damian rather sound advice, once he’d thought it over and realised Timothy was, in fact, right and didn’t deserve the blowing up he’d received from Damian.

“With the death of a loved one, you’ve got to let yourself grieve. Otherwise, you will not be able to get better. It’s just a sign there’s excess love inside you that you can’t give anyone because that bit of love was reserved for someone special. It’s… Well, it’s something you need to let yourself feel because otherwise it will make you come crashing down and you don’t want to collapse,” he told Damian after making him sit down and drink some water. It looked like Timothy hadn’t slept at all.

And he looked even worse than he usually did — he looked worse than Damian knew he himself had looked when Timothy had found him the day before.

“It’s unlikely you’ll ever be able to stop grieving, but… It will get better. One day. Slowly. And then sometimes it will hit you all over again, but on those days — well, every day, but especially on those days — I’m here. All of us, all of your family is. We won’t let you go through this alone. She was dear to us all, too.”

Later on (it must have taken some weeks, because by the time he heard it, Timothy had gone missing again) he heard from the rest of his family that it was amazing Timothy had come to him then. They still hadn’t gotten along well at that time (they’d gotten along on any level before his beloved’s death only for her sake as she’d expressed her utter sadness whenever they fought too much), but he’d come to help Damian specifically anyway. Because he cared.

And it turned out he’d been as much of a mess as Damian had, but he'd forced himself to get up and deal with Damian too. It had taken him a while to understand how Timothy could have been as bad as he had, but then it hit him — he and Marinette had been best friends, and losing her had been just as much of a tragedy to him as it had been to Damian.

That was something.

And it was certainly an act to be respected.

Fortunately, they found him within the next few months, alive, because even Damian had admitted he missed Timothy and he wouldn’t be able to take it if more of his family died. Losing Marinette had been enough.

On the fifth anniversary of her death, the entire family got together to remember her. Damian had baked her favourite pastries, fraisiers, for everyone. He had needed to do it — after all, it was her who taught him to bake them.

Every one of them loved them. The children — Grayson’s, Todd’s and Thomas’, though no one really knew where Thomas had gotten his (none of them questioned it because they were too used to Father’s antics, at least he wasn’t training them to be vigilantes) — were just happy they got to eat sweets, though the older ones did notice the sad presence in all of them. That, and there was no way they didn’t know they gathered together to keep the memory of Damian’s late wife alive. It was certain that Todd’s children all knew a lot about the happened and knew that Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Wayne had been close with all of them, but Damian wasn’t sure if they understood why everyone was like that.

He could only barely see it from the blurriness in his own vision, but there were tears in Richard’s eyes that he refused to shed. Timothy just smiled that sad smile of his at the dessert and looked like he was talking to himself, but there wasn’t even a trace of tears in his expression. He was doing better.

“It will get better,” he had told Damian years ago. “Not now, and the developement is going to be slow, but it will.”

Maybe that was what had Timothy smile.

Damian didn’t know whether he should be happy for him or bitter.

He decided to be happy for him, because that was what he knew his beloved would have wanted.

Years went by and yet Damian never forgot about her. He knew he could never. He was finally getting better, he could go about his everyday life easily, though sometimes he needed to take a day off when the grief surfaced and he couldn't handle it anymore.

Somehow, Timothy seemed to always know when those days hit (Damian wouldn’t put it past him to have all their siblings and even Father looking after him and reporting his moods to Timothy), and every single time he was there at some point, either offering a listening ear or something to watch or food or just his presence, even if both of them worked on their own projects in silence.

But he got better, and the pain and grief born from losing her loosened their grip on him.

Through all the years, Damian carried a picture of Marinette along with him. He made sure her legacy would stay alive in some way, and ended up founding the Marinette Foundation that technically offered help for young artists and those bullied in school. In reality, they helped anyone they could, because that was what Marinette would’ve done.

Jon and Colin told him he was nothing like the boy they knew at some point, that he had changed, and they were proud of him. They said Marinette would be proud of him too. Damian, in turn, told them that they could thank Marinette when they met her in the life after this one and themselves for showing him the way (and Marinette for getting tired of his antics and shoving him down and onto said way because he refused to step onto it himself.)

Even on his deathbed decades later, he held a picture of Marinette in his hands, refusing to forget her no matter what.

Because after all, she was the reason he was still there.

“It's the one person who knew you and accepted you…”

Damian swallowed — damnit, an al Ghul did not swallow when nervous or anxious, that was a sign of weakness and he wasn’t weak — as Marinette stared him down. He had to consciously keep himself from shifting in place where he was sitting on his bed. Marinette was on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest.

The lights in the room were rather dim, the brightest light source being the daylight that made its way into the room through the windows Alfred had had them clean a few days earlier. Something about them needing to know how to do it and being able to be outside the window relatively safely compared to Alfred himself.

He didn’t dare to say a word after his confession, simply waiting for Marinette to speak up. For her to say something, anything. He’d told her everything he could remember, even things he had never told anyone else, and her opinion on it mattered so much, regardless of what he wanted to convince himself of. Her opinion always weighed more than others’ at this point.

Eventually, she opened her mouth. “Alright, so tell me if I got it right. You were born to the daughter of the leader of the league of Assassins, you were raised to become one, you actually killed tens and tens of people, then you were taken to your father at the age of ten to distract him from his work as Batman, tried to kill Tim — my best friend — multiple times, and you never told me until now? After we’ve known each other for seven years and having dated for four of them?”

Usually, Damian could read Marinette easily, but now her face was blank, and the only thing he could hear in her voice was a hint of exasperation and anger. A hint. That meant she was hiding something huge, because his beloved was never this emotionless unless she was actively hiding something from him.

And that was something that had him swallow his pride and admit to himself that he was frightened about what that meant for him, for her, for them and their relationship. He had no idea.

He nodded, drawing out a slow “yes, that’s pretty much it summarised.”

Marinette sighed and ran a hand down his face. For a second, there was a flash of absolute fury and sorrow visible on her face, but then it was already gone. Damian wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he was rather sure that this meant the end of their relationship.

“I am so furious right now.”

“I understand that you’re furious with me. I did hide it from you for a long time. I just thought you deserved to know, even if it came later rather than sooner. Better late than never, isn’t it?”

Yet another sigh. “Damian, love, mon cœur, I am not furious at you. I am furious at your mother and I am furious at your grandfather and so many others, but not you. And yes, I deserved to know that my boyfriend has killed people, multiple of them at that, but I can see why you hid it from me for so long. When was the last time you killed anyone?”

“A bit after I became Robin.”

“Well then, it’s long since that happened. I can’t promise I won’t be a little uncomfortable around you for a while, but I’ll work on it. Your mother and grandfather took your childhood away and it isn’t your fault you became an assassin — you didn’t know any better. You were a child. You aren’t supposed to have to know how to be at that age, especially if you’ve only ever seen one way of living, if you’ve only ever been told that way of living is the correct one. Instead, I’m ready to break this family’s “No kill” rule and go do that to your mother and grandfather. You didn’t deserve all of that. No child does.”

There were tears in his eyes that were threatening to spill, and Damian needed to think about breathing in order to be able to do so.

“I— What is wrong with you? Why do you care so much about me?!” he began with a broken voice, his tone borderline hysterical, but Marinette interrupted him by putting a finger on his lips. She’d crossed the room fast.

“Because you’re my friend above all else. You’re the one I love, and there’s nothing that can change that.”

Damian’s breath came to a halt. Tears burned in his eyes and suddenly he felt like a scared child, clinging onto anything that could save him. Marinette smiled at him so gently, so reassuringly as she reached out to him. She was truly an angel bringing light to his life, being the light in the darkness that was his life. “But I— I killed—”

“Oh love, I don’t blame you, so please, don’t do that either. Children cannot be blamed for the actions of their parents, and they can’t be held responsible for something they did because their mother and grandfather told them to do so. It took, what, ten years before you were even told you were allowed to not kill people. There’s no way I could ever blame you.” Marinette pulled rather limp Damian into her arms and squeezed him, and both of them tried to ignore the tears that were now flowing down from their eyes. Marinette hid her face in Damian’s hair, keeping Damian within her embrace in the way he’d once (surprisingly) admitted felt safe to him, his face buried in her shirt. Marinette said nothing about the tears staining the piece of clothing.

She never would, not with her dearest. Especially not when he was like this.

Marinette wasn’t surprised in the least that Damian had come crashing down like this. Keeping something a secret from your loved ones was tiring. The bigger the secret and the longer you kept it, the bigger the consequences would be once you let go of it.

All she could do now was to be there for him and prove that she wasn’t going to leave, even if it took her a long time. He deserved that much.

Because after all, he deserved the world.

“Believed in you before anyone else did…”

Marinette bend over and put her face in her arms and knees, sitting on her bed. Her sketchbook lied on the other side of the room, some of its pages crumbled next to it. She had no idea what to do. The only thing that could be heard in the room were her heavy breathing and sobs, at least until someone was at the door.

That someone knocked on the door three times, each knock the slightest bit different. She didn’t want to see anyone right now, but the knocks already told him it was either Damian or Tim on the other side of the door. They were the only two she’d told about how to knock on her door to make sure she knows it’s one of them if they needed to talk to her and she reacted to no other means of contact.

So, reluctantly, she stood up and walked to the door, opening it to reveal Damian standing there, wearing a worried expression on his face. Marinette stepped aside and motioned for him to come in before closing the door behind the two of them.

“What is—” she began but was interrupted before she got any further.

“What happened, habibti?”

Marinette snapped her mouth shut. This was not what she was expecting. Damian sounded worried.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You don’t throw your sketchbook across the room and look like you’re about to cry when you are alright.”

That was enough to make her stop with the excuses. Damian had her figured out. She should have guessed. She swallowed, visibly deflated and dropped on the ground, hugging her knees. Damian was at her side within seconds.

“I just—” It was hard to talk about it and they fell into silence again. Damian put his hand on her shoulder hesitantly, as though he wasn’t sure if it was okay. As she didn’t move away or flinch at the touch, he just let it rest there. Marinette guessed he was trying his best at showing he was there by doing what he’d seen Tim and Dick do before.

“You can take your time, I am in no hurry,” he said, drawing a teary laugh out of her.

“Thanks, Dames.”

Marinette stared at the ground as she started speaking. “I— It’s just that I realised, I remembered that I didn’t want to be a designer, not to begin with. I do enjoy designing, it isn’t that, but… It’s kind of like video games. It was meant to be a hobby.”

“Why did you change your mind, then?”

“I think… I think it’s because of Mlle Bustier. She saw me designing clothes one day and she kept insisting I was good at it and telling me I should become a designer. I did tell her I didn’t want to, but she insisted I should become one for weeks, months, years. Eventually I— eventually I just thought that was what I wanted and should do, I guess.”

Damian growled, like, honest to god growled. “I am going to sue that disgusting, sorry excuse of a teacher,” he all but snarled, but didn’t go anywhere from where he was kneeling next to her.

“Please don’t. You don’t have any proof.”

“Tt. As you wish. At least she cannot do anything to you anymore as you’re now here. Then, what was it you wanted to do? Before that loathsome woman interfered, that is.”

Marinette smiled at him with teary eyes. “I wanted to be a baker, just like my parents. They loved their job and baking was so much fun. I loved trying new things and I always imagined how it would be to either take over our family bakery or start my own,” she said, chuckling. Then her smile disappeared from her face and she frowned a little. “But every time I mention this to someone now, they’re saying I shouldn’t abandon my “dream” of becoming a designer, that I don’t need to worry about whether I can make it. They think I’m just scared of whether my designs are good enough — I know they are — and I do want to do it as a side thing, but I… it’s not what I want from life. I want to be able to bake and make these amazing, wonderful creations and make people smile when they eat them!”

Damian reached his hands out to cup her face but hesitation made him jerk away. Why was he hesitating now? That was not something he usually did. But, when he watched her expressions carefully, the slightest bit of disappointment he could see on Marinette’s face had him reach out again and cup her face.

“Whatever it is you want to do, I support you, and I’m sure you’ll do great. If you want to be a baker and create a bakery, I say go for it. If it makes you happy, I want you to do it, and I’ll be there supporting you through every step of the way, if that pleases you.”

“Yes, it would. Thank you, Damian,” she said, and finally a smile graced her lips again. It was like it lit up the entire room, but Damian didn’t have long to think about it before Marinette had surged forwards and her lips were on his.

Just as soon as the kiss had started, it also ended. Marinette looked embarrassed and ashamed, letting her gaze fall to the side, averting Damian’s eyes. Her sudden movements had Damian lose his grasp on her.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I simply—”

And then she was interrupted by Damian cupping her face once more, pulling her forwards and claiming her lips in turn. Marinette melted into it and traced her hands along his body up until they found their place on his shoulders and behind his neck. When they broke the kiss off, Marinette simply let herself go limp against Damian who held her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Perhaps she was.

“I meant that. I will always be here for you because I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

After all, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t fight the entire world for her.

“...or when no one else would.”

“Have I ever told you how I met one of my best friends, Damian Wayne?” Lila asked one day after school when they were all waiting for their lifts or friends on the school grounds. Alya immediately perked up and looked at her friend curiously. She already seemed ready to take out her phone and record Lila talking about it, but Lila simply laughed sweetly and told her that she needed to protect Damian’s privacy from the media. Alya understood and put her phone away.

Marinette mostly ignored it, still waiting for her lift — she didn’t like it when Lila lied about her friends, but as long as she wasn’t slandering their name, she had decided not to intervene because one, it’s not like her classmates would care, and two, why should she care about her ex-friends being lied to if they didn’t believe her when she said so? As long as Lila didn’t bully her or her ex-friends didn’t do it, she couldn’t care less.

“Alright, so it went like this. A few years ago, I was at the Wayne gala with my mother, when this woman spilled her drink on my dress. It was so unfortunate, I had gotten the dress from Prince Ali the last time I’d met him, and it was my favourite one,” Lila explained, making an effort to put shock and sadness in her voice, her expressions no doubt matching the story perfectly. Rose gasped in horror. Marinette was half-listening to the story, ready to start recording in case there was going to be any slander against any of her friends. After all, she would need proof if they wanted to take it to court.

“Oh girl, what happened then? Did she at least apologise and offer to get it cleaned up for you?” Alya asked, grabbing Lila by the shoulders. Marinette could almost imagine her concerned, angry face in her mind.

Marinette could find a slightly bitter taste in her mouth at the nickname but ignored it.

Lila tilted her head and furrowed her brows, looking away for a second as though she were sad. “No,” she sighed. “She was jealous about me and the beautiful dress I had. Then she smirked at me and tripped, ripping my dress. It couldn’t be repaired afterwards. The biggest problem was, when she— when she ripped my dress—”

Lila swallowed and stopped speaking and wiped a tear away from her eye before continuing. “When she ripped my dress, it revealed my undergarments, right there, in the middle of the gala,” she whispered. Marinette would be amazed at her acting skills because she sounded just like she were embarrassed for a second there if it wasn’t for the fact she didn’t like it when people lied.

“What happened then?” Mylène asked, holding her breath.

“Then Damian swooped in and shed his jacket quickly, giving it to me to be able to cover myself. Then he took me away from the ball and got me one of his sister’s dresses. He apologised that it wasn’t the same thing, but told me it was too unfortunate the woman had been like that. He then reassured me that his family would take her away so I could enjoy the rest of the gala. He still let me keep the jacket because I was cold.”

The girls around her cooed.

“Tell us more!”

“Well, alright,” Lila complied, looking like she didn’t want them asking more. Like hell she didn’t, she reveled in their attention. Lila Rossi loved the sound of her own voice more than she loved breathing. “So, a few days after that — as I hadn’t been able to find him at the end of the gala to be able to give his jacket back to him — I was walking outside using his jacket because it was so warm and that way I could return it to him or one of his family members should I see them there. The a dog ran past me without his owner. He clearly belonged to someone because he had a collar and he was groomed, but I couldn’t even see anyone running after him. So, obviously, I ran after the dog to catch him, hoping he had a name tag and the owner’s information so I could return him. It took me a while and my feet were so tired, but eventually I succeeded. That was about when I saw a young man running towards me. The dog visibly brightened and started wagging his tail just as when I was trying to check the nametag, so I guessed it was the owner.”

“Who was it, then?”

“Ooh, was it Damian?”

“Yes! It was indeed Damian! His dog had run away! He was so kind to me because I found his dog and thanked me so many times for it. He asked me if I wanted to come for a walk with him and his dog who was so sweet the entire time. It was so wonderful talking with him — he’s a great conversationalist!” Marinette did agree with her there. “Then I gave him his jacket back and he gave me his number so we could keep in contact. We kept talking even after I returned to Italy and he’s one of my dearest friends!”

Well, Lila had said nothing problematic about Damian or any of the other Wayne family members, so Marinette decided she couldn’t bother to get involved in it. At least she’d done her research for once, because while there were things you could check on the internet, it would be much harder unless you knew exactly where to look and who to ask.

Marinette pulled out her phone to call Tim as he was supposed to fetch her from school with Alfred. Tim was her best friend and they were going to take her to the States for the next few weeks so she could get a break from school and all the stress surrounding it. Well. She was going to go to school with Damian in Gotham to make sure she didn’t fall behind, but it wasn’t like it was the schoolwork stressing her out. It was Lila and all her lies and the lack of anyone she could talk to or rely on. In Gotham, none of those things would be a problem.

But, instead of Tim walking up to her, she got Tim and Damian, both heading straight her way. Once she got over her surprise, she smiled brightly and waved at them before running towards Tim and hugging him. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly.

“I’m so glad that you’re coming over for the next few weeks, Cupcake! There’s so much I want to show you. Did I already mention that Lucius and Tam are both looking forward to seeing you at the office during your stay? Because they totally are. They want to show you around the company. You can’t let them down. Bart and Kon mentioned wanting to see you at some point during the week too.”

Marinette laughed and wriggled out of Tim’s grasp. “I’ll make sure I’ll have time for all of them. I do need to set time aside for you especially, but I’m reserving Dames for myself for at least a few days,” she told the two boys and smiled at Damian. She still wasn’t too close with him so she tried to keep away from hugging him or tried to keep the touch contact at minimum because he always seemed so uncomfortable with the rest of the family showing their affection by hugs or ruffling his hair and so on. She didn’t want to do it to him.

(So what if a bit of it was because she had the tiniest crush on him and didn’t want to ruin her relationship with him before she even had any kind of a chance.)

“Oh, Marinette, who’s your friend? Your boyfriend? Or boyfriends?” Lila asked with the slightest smirk hidden behind her smile, the tone of her voice sounding the slightest bit scandalised at the idea of multiple boyfriends. It seemed everyone else caught it too and with wide eyes, stared at Marinette. Marinette scowled, hoping Tim and Damian didn’t catch the mood change in the air.

A pointless wish because both were children of Bruce Wayne and raised by the greatest detective in the world, but a wish nonetheless.

“This is my best friend, Tim, and this is his little brother and also my dear friend, Dames,” she replied, gritting her teeth a little.

“Oh no, your best friend? Isn’t Alya your best friend?”

That drew the attention of the entire class still present to them. They smelled drama and they wanted to see it.

“No,” Marinette said coolly, pressing her nails into the skin of her palm to keep herself calm and grounded. Tim seemed to notice it and put a hand on her arm, rubbing circles on it with his thumb. “Alya was my best friend until she decided to believe you over me. We grew apart.”

“God, Marinette, this ploy of yours isn’t going to work. You’re still my friend, but I’m also friends with Lila! I don’t get where this jealousy and need to have people for yourself is coming from! Are you still mad that Adrien doesn’t like you as much as he likes Lila?”

Marinette inhaled deep. “I don’t even like Adrien anymore. I haven’t liked him in months! I’m not jealous, it’s that you all keep believing and choosing Lila — a girl you’ve known for a year or so — over me, someone some of you have known since we were in diapers! Have I ever lied to any of you? Proved you couldn’t trust me? Anything that could justify any of this?”

She was so irritated and done with them. They weren’t bullying her, but honestly, she would have preferred it over them saying they were still friends before doing a complete 180° and deciding to choose Lila over her every. Single. Time. Not once had they chosen her over Lila since she came into the picture permanently.

“Like hell you don’t like Adrien. You just told me over the phone you do!”

“Alya, we haven’t spoken over the phone in ages.”

That stopped Alya. She swallowed, pulled out her phone and frantically looked through it before paling.

“Well?” Marinette inquired. She knew perfectly well it had been a long time since because both of them were just “so busy” all the time.

“It’s— it’s been half a year since…” Alya choked out. Marinette settled for an expression and an arch of a brow that told her I told you so.

“Well then, that’s settled. Can we go now? I’d like to see the rest of the family as soon as possible,” Marinette said, already turning on her heel when Lila decided she needed to have the last word in. At least she had the good idea of speaking in French because every time Marinette spoke to the two boys, it was in English. Obviously, both of them knew at least some French as she used it around the Manor and they sometimes replied to her, but still. It wasn’t like Lila knew.

“Where are you even going? It’s the middle of the school year. There can’t be any good reason as to why you’re leaving now. It’s not like you’re good enough to just not be here.”

“I am leaving because of stress, not that it actually was any of your concern, and my schoolwork is doing just fine, thank you very much.”

“I haven’t even seen you study, you’re quiet in class — in fact, it seems like all you do is draw while you should focus on what Mlle Bustier is teaching us.”

Marinette sighed. She didn’t want to have to deal with this.

The others in class spoke up too, all of them spouting out similar “facts” that actually weren’t true. Marinette could feel tears burning in her eyes and the choking feeling in her throat was just too present, but she couldn’t do anything about it. Tim looked ready to go full Red Robin on them, but just before he opened his mouth, Damian was already in front of them and at it. Tim returned to Marinette’s side, rubbing comforting circles on her shoulders and arms, wiping her tears away.

“I’m not certain if any of you imbeciles have ears. She told you, her schoolwork is excellent. I have seen her grades, Father has seen her grades, her parents have seen her grades, Drake has seen them, and all of us have decided that it is of no problem for her to come with us. And if any of you were the friends you say you are, then you would not question this and be happy for her and trust she knows what she is doing. If none of you are able to do that simple thing, then I deem all of you unworthy of her,” he said, in perfect French, his tone of voice clearly telling them all his word was final. Some of the students paled and backed off when they caught it and understood there was no way for them out of this.

It seemed Lila didn’t.

“Who are you supposed to be? I’ll have you know, I’m the daughter of an ambassador, you can’t speak to me like that.”

“Oh, so you are the liar Malaki has mentioned every now and then.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Well, to say what Jason would love to if he were here, I ain’t calling you a truther,” Tim chimed in, a smile on his face, though none of the others could see it as he was still focused on making sure Marinette was okay. Marinette’s snort mixed with her choked sob as she held onto Tim, watching the exchange take place in front of them.

Marinette could have cried out of joy. Her friends — these friends — were actually there for her and didn’t let her deal with all of it alone. And Damian, well. He believed in her. He didn’t doubt her words for a second about a liar and then the moment he met Lila, he stood with Marinette and didn’t let Lila’s sweet, sugary, false words change his mind.

It mattered more to her than she knew how to explain.

The glare he had on his face, directed at Lila and the rest of them, was definitely the perfect blend of Damian al Ghul Wayne and Robin. It was something all the Bats learnt from Bruce and Batman, but Damian had perfected it and turned it into something of his own. Marinette was glad she was never on the receiving end of it. The faintest ghost of a smile crept on her lips as she watched everything unravel in front of her very eyes.

“Wait. Aren’t you— Lila, do you not recognise him?”

That was Alya.

“Why should I?”

Lila.

“Because that right there is Damian Wayne and you were just telling us about how you met him.”

“According to the internet and my various sources, the two people with Marinette Dupain-Cheng are Damian Wayne and Timothy Drake-Wayne.”

Max and Markov.

“I can’t believe this is how you fall, Rossi. You don’t recognise your so called best friend? You definitely dug yourself into a deep hole. It’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.”

And Chloé.

That was all the rest of them needed to pull out their phones and start looking up the rest of the things — thoroughly — that Lila had claimed to be true. It didn’t take too long before Markov and Max started listing off things Lila had lied about.

Damian smirked and turned away, clearly satisfied with how things turned out. He led Marinette to the car with Tim, and once they were inside and had said hi to Alfred and apologised for how long it took, he turned to Marinette and actually, genuinely smiled at her.

“Remember, Malaki, you don’t need to do everything on your own. If anyone ever dares to disrespect you like that again or doesn’t believe you when you’re telling the truth, you can trust that I will be there if you need assistance. I will always be there when you need me. Asking for assistance isn’t a sign of weakness.  Besides, isn’t that what Grayson always tries to remind us all of? That ‘asking for help and helping is what family does’, that ‘admitting to your flaws or not being able to do everything alone doesn’t mean a lack of strength’.”

“I agree with him, for once. We all care about you and you’re family. You could never be a bother. You can rely on us.”

Marinette wiped a tear out of her eye and smiled back. “You’re right. Thank you, Dami. For everything. You too, Timmers.” She grabbed the hands of both her friends and squeezed them, completely ignoring the warmth on her cheeks as Damian gave her a light squeeze back.

She would be fine.

Because after all, he wasn’t about to leave her fending for herself.

“And no matter what happens...”

“I’ll go with you.”

Marinette’s tone indicated her words were meant to be taken as final, but Damian wasn’t having it. He was not about to let his wife come with him to take down the League of Assassins for good because it wasn’t safe at all. That was the one fight where he wouldn’t be able to protect her because he’d be too caught up with fighting those who had gotten training nearly as good and tough as his. His beloved, as good as she was, was not comparable to the League because her training had been so different. His mother would be there, no doubt. Even if she liked Marinette, Mother was not above using her son’s wife against him if she thought it would work in her favour.

“No. You aren’t coming. I don’t want you to die there.”

Marinette groaned and threw a pillow at him with way too much force. It didn’t hurt — it was a pillow, after all—, but it did surprise him.

“Damian, ma raison de vivre, I will come with you. There’s no way I’ll be able to go on if you’re gone, so I will come and make sure you don’t die,” she snapped at him, scowling. It was a rare thing to see on her face.

“You are the one who needs to live if it comes down to that. The world and the family needs you more than they need me, habibti. I—” He was interrupted before he got any further.

“No! Don’t you dare start that! You are my — ugh, what’s the English term… whatever, let’s go with French — ma raison d’être and there’s no way I’m letting you die either! You aren’t disposable, you aren’t someone that I — or the family — can lose! I don’t care what it takes, and if I have to follow you from the shadows, hidden from you, to be able to come along, then that’s what I will do,” Marinette said, snarling.

“But this is the League of Assassins, they are there to kill. I might have to resort to that as well, if nothing else works. I will try not to for you, of course, but the chance still exists. They will definitely try to kill me, and if you’re there, you as well.”

“You know what, I’m coming and I’m telling the family of this as well. They won’t let you go alone either. None of us want you to die.”

She had already pulled out her phone and dialed someone by the time Damian had noticed and tried to stop her. It was too late.

“Fine,” he huffed and sat down at the table, watching as Marinette argued with someone on the phone until she finally put her phone away with a smug smile on her face.

“Tim said he’s coming, I reminded Bruce that he wouldn’t want to lose yet another son — especially not for the second time, yes, I know you died like fifteen years ago — so he’s in as well, Dick was in before I even finished trying to convince him, and Jason is coming as well because he cares about you all and wants to be there to protect you even if he’s horrible at saying it out loud.”

“I know.”

“Cass, Steph, Duke and Babs are in as well. So, you know, the whole family is going to be there. I’m pretty sure Jon and Colin would want to help as well if I asked.”

Marinette walked around the table to him, and slid her arms around him. “Dames, whatever happens, I will be there by your side, just like you told you’d be by my side. It goes both ways, love.” She pressed a kiss to his hair and took his hands in her own. “We are going to be fine, I promise. After all, you’re my other half, you complete me, and that means we’re going to survive and get through this as well.”

The day to fight came, and all the kwamii were tired, so Marinette wore kevlar, just like the rest of them. She smiled at him, holding his hand and chuckled, saying they matched. Damian smiled back and tucked some loose strands behind her ear. Yeah, just like his beloved said, they were going to be alright.

Because after all, they worked together better than any oiled machine.

“You will always love them.”

Those were the words he told her in front of both their families, their friends, but Damian couldn’t care less about them. All that mattered to him was that his angel was there, his angel had promised to give all of herself to him for the rest of their lives, until death do them part. In return, he gave her all that he was, all that he had, and he would never leave her side if it was up to him to decide.

He took her hands in his before bringing them up to kiss her fingers. Marinette laughed, the sound of it like music in his ears. It was the most beautiful sound in the world to him. The red of her dress was elegant and brought out her appearance’s best qualities, it made her eyes shine. The golden accents

When the “You may kiss the bride” came, he lifted her up by her waist, twirled them around and placed her back on the ground before he pressed a delicate kiss on her lips. It made her smile, and Damian was certain she could compete with the Sun itself for the place of the brightest and most beautiful thing in the world and win.

When they finally turned to face their closest people present, they were both smiling and happier than ever. Grayson cheered in the front row, Todd had a grin on his face, Father was smiling at them with such pride in his eyes, and Drake… Oh yeah, he was Marinette’s Man of Honor, so he wasn’t with the rest of the family — he had been standing at the side on Marinette’s side, with Brown, Tsurugi and Cain, who were her bridesmaids, and Couffaine, her bridesman, all standing behind him. Damian had given Colin and Jon the honour of being his Best Men (because he simply refused to choose only one of them.) Right now, Drake looked ready to run to Marinette and hug and congratulate her, but decided against it because he knew it was her and Damian’s day, and the right to be there by her side at the ceremony was Damian’s.

(It was clear he was going to spend as much time as possible with her at the wedding reception, though. Damian had no problem with that — his wife should be able to be with her friends, especially her best friend, as long as she didn’t forget him. He knew she wouldn’t. There was a reason she’d married him.)

Marinette smiled at him and gave his cheek a quick peck as they intertwined their fingers and walked down the aisle. It was strange and oh so wonderful how this amazing young woman had decided she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, no matter what kind of a person he had been, no matter how many other suitable people that liked her were there, no matter how difficult life together would be because of how stubborn both of them were — she still had chosen him over everyone and everything else, and Damian would be damned if he didn’t treat her with all the respect she deserved and make her as happy as ever possible.

Because after all, if soulmates existed, she was definitely his.

“Nothing can ever change that.”

A woman perks up as she hears someone call her name, seeing the black hair and the tan skin of the one she’s always loved. The one she’s loved since the day she saw him and until the day her heartbeats ceased and even beyond death. The one she had loved, the one she still loves, the one she will always love. He’s standing there, shocked, tears in his eyes, but there’s so much adoration and love in his eyes that she doesn't even know how to react. Then she rushes to her feet and runs to him, throwing herself at him because it’s been too long since the day we lost each other.

Her treasure got to live a life decades longer than her own, he got to grow old, but she can’t find it in herself to be bitter about it — he always deserved to live a long life, and besides, even though she would have tried to be happy for him if it had happened, he never fell in love again or remarried after she was taken away from him. He’d stayed hers and hers only until death, and now they’re back together, finally. Even if it took nearly seven entire decades of separation first.

Basking in the warmth of sunlight, the young woman with black hair leans against the young man just about her age, his hair just as black as hers. He wraps his arms around her shoulders tightly and presses her against his chest, more than grateful he can hold her again after being separated for so very long. She chuckles and tilts her head backwards so he can give her a kiss on her forehead more easily.

The rest of the world no longer matters. It’s no longer “as though it doesn’t matter”, because now it is “it doesn’t matter”. They have both lived and they have both died, and now that they’re together again, they don’t need to care about the world. It isn’t like they can affect it anymore either.

They intertwine their fingers, a gesture that brings both of them comfort, a gesture that has brought both of them comfort for decades now, and they watch the sun set down below in the world they can only see as outsiders anymore. Even so, the sunset paints the world in warm tones, and the peaceful tones of red, orange and yellow fill their vision.

Their time is no longer limited, for they’ve found one another in the life beyond. They are together again, and that is all that matters to them. Their family is there as well, all of them are waiting to see them, and that’s why they don’t need to worry anymore.

The young woman stands up and offers her hand to the man, and the man takes it, letting the woman pull him to his feet. She cups his face and pulls him down to a kiss, smiling into it as she murmurs her confessions of love to him in all the languages she knows and even the languages she doesn’t. In return, he tells her how she is all that he needs, how she changed his life, and how he will keep his promise of staying by her side until the end of time in all the languages that have ever existed and even the languages that don’t yet exist.

After all,  to one another, the two of them were everything.

Because what’s a soulmate, if not the one person you love more than anything, the one person your life would crash without, the one person that gives you strength in the darkest of times even when they aren’t there, if not the one you choose to love until you run out of air to breathe and until your heart ceases to beat?

What’s a soulmate, if not the one who will keep coming back to you over and over again, no matter what happens, until the end of time and will find you even beyond death?

________

@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life

_________

Did you find the only two connected scenes in this one because there's totally one scene that leads straight to another (and as the fic isn't in chronological order, the two scenes aren't either, it’s easy but not that easy.)

If you guess what were my favourite scenes to write or tell me what were yours to read, I'll give you a cookie.

[green-eyed-whumpster]

My OC Universe: Rowan 95

Chapter 95 Summary: It’s been many years since Rowan and his father spoke. And circumstances were drastically different. Can Rowan handle this new event on top of all his other problems? (Tags: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: PTSD whumpee, references to abuse, alcoholism, references to domestic abuse, threat of death.

Rowan couldn’t breathe. He had been promised a painful death the next time he and his father met.

“I swear if I ever see you again I won’t hesitate to wring your neck like the little runt that you are!”

“No…no, please,” He breathed, hitting the brick wall again.

“No, Rowan, I’m not…” The man sighed heavily and raised his hands defensively. “I know that you have no reason to be happy to see me, but I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.” This voice was too soft, it didn’t fill Rowan with the dread it used to, and he almost would have preferred his father to strike him so he wasn’t waiting in dread for it to happen.

“Are you all right, Rowan?” Peter asked, moving in-between the pair cautiously.

“I’m sorry, Peter, but Rowan is my son,” The man said in his gentle voice. “We didn’t part on good terms, and I’m afraid I said some things I no longer mean.”

He doesn’t mean them anymore? 

But, how much? How much does he no longer mean? He said so much, how could he change so much?

“Do you want to get out of here, Rowan?” Peter asked carefully, stepping closer to the boy.

“I –“ 

Their attention was caught by the sound of the soldier scrambling to his feet to escape the consequences that trying to rape Rowan would bring.

“Oi! Get back here!” Peter immediately chased after the perpetrator, leaving Rowan alone with his father.

“Rowan,”

“Please, don’t come near me!” Rowan whimpered, reaching for Olivia, who was standing protectively at his side.

“All right, I won’t,” His father conceded, even taking a step back. “Will you please allow me an opportunity to explain myself? I want to justify my actions before you leave again.” His voice was so desperate that Rowan couldn’t even consider the many layers of confusion that were presenting themselves to him before he responded.

“Yes.”

You idiot. You massive, stupid, pathetic idiot! What were you thinking?

“Oh, thank you, my son,” Rowan didn’t like being linked with the man that had terrified him so when he was younger. 

“After…after you left I-no, I’m sorry, after I threw you out, there was no one who was there to look after me and clean up my messes. It was a rather severe wake-up call.” He admitted, scratching the back of his head. “First of all, I was entirely unfair to you, your whole life I blamed you for your mother dying, even though we both knew how likely it was that she wouldn’t survive your birth. I was cruel to you, I only hope - I can’t remember, but I was pissed off my skull for much of your childhood - I only hope I never severely hurt you, I never scarred you permanently.” Rowan shook his head softly and the man breathed a sigh of relief.

“That doesn’t mean you weren’t severe,” Rowan murmured nervously.

“I-I know. I don’t…I have no excuse for my behaviour, but once you were gone I realised how alone I was without you. My friends were nothing more than drunks who wouldn’t judge me, and no one else would associate with me. I blamed you for losing my wife, but,” He paused and looked up at Rowan. “You were really all that I had left of her. I had…I had sold all of her things to pay for the alcohol, and so once you were gone I felt like I had lost her all over again.” Rowan was disturbed to hear his father’s voice crack, and even more disturbed to find that his instinct was to try and step forward and comfort him.

“Without you supporting me I had no choice but to sober up. It was agony the first few days, but I deserved it. I hated you for leaving, even though I made you, accused you of abandoning me like Lucille had, even though I could never stand your presence.”

“You don’t drink anymore?” Rowan asked cautiously.

“No. Not a drop since the month after you left. I didn’t have the money, or the skill you had of exchanging odd jobs for money, sometimes a few people would pass me lying in the street and toss me a coin, but luckily never enough to afford liquor.” He chuckled shamefully and Rowan glanced up.

“In the street?” He asked. “What happened to our house?” His father began laughing and shook his head remorsefully.

“Nothing at all! I just felt more comfortable in the street. It was where I belonged. Homes were for families. I never had one.” He kept trying to catch Rowan’s eye but the boy was adamant that they didn’t meet again.

“Why aren’t you there, then?” Rowan asked softly, wondering where in the hells Peter was as he glanced carefully around.

“No one was going to give work to the abusive drunk that kicked out his own son!” The man scoffed. “There was no future there for me. Let alone the memories that clung to every paver of my wife, and my son, and all the terrible things I had done.” Rowan wanted desperately to believe his father, this man was so much more agreeable than the last one. 

“I drifted around a bit before settling here, I have a new family, now,” He looked up as his father showed off the dull silver wedding band that adorned his left hand.

“You…have a new family?” Rowan asked sadly.

“I do.” The man replied. “But I never forgot my son,” He stepped forward to touch Rowan’s cheek but hesitated when he saw the look in the boy’s eyes. 

“I had...I always hoped that you had found somewhere better. Had begun a new life that could have made up for everything I put you through.” Rowan began tearing up and bit his lip harshly. “Has life treated you well? Have you been able to find a way to be happy?” Rowan rolled his eyes softly and scoffed.

“Obviously not.” 

He immediately cringed and leant back. His father had never tolerated that tone, or sarcasm, any type of defiance at all. And here he was being disrespectful.

What are you doing? Have you completely given up on life?

“Oh, my poor boy, I’m so sorry,”

He let out a cry when a hand rested against his cheek and looked up, frightened, into his father’s familiar, but much clearer eyes. 

“I’m sorry, you always deserved better.” When his eyes met his father’s, full of sympathy and shame, he finally cracked, tears breaking over his lashes as he felt the rough palm against his soft skin.

“How can I trust you?” He sobbed weakly, studying the man for any sign of malice that remained.

“I don’t think there’s any way to convince you right now,” The man said softly, lifting his other hand to cup Rowan’s face gently. “I prayed for your safety, and your happiness, and it breaks my heart that those prayers went unanswered. But now that I know you are alive, all I want is to make up for the awful things I put you through. I swear.” 

Rowan lifted his hands to his mouth to try and suppress the sobs shaking his chest and the man stepped closer, finally wrapping his arms around his child, gently pressing the boy’s head into his broad chest.

“I missed you so much!” Rowan whimpered against the thick shirt and curled into the embrace gratefully. It was hard to admit to himself that for a long time after he had been forced out he missed his father. It was hard saying goodbye to the only family he had ever known. Even if they weren’t a good family.

“I missed you, too, Rowan,” His father answered softly, rocking gently from side to side, rubbing Rowan’s back soothingly. “I’m so glad you’re all right, even if it took a while,” Rowan nodded weakly and felt his fingers curling into his father’s shirt.

This is all I ever wanted. I had spent days fantasising about my father, about him being remorseful. And now I have it.

But I don’t feel satisfied.

He pulled out of the embrace suddenly, like fire was licking at his heels, his eyes were full of fear when they rested on his father and he fell back against the wall.

“Are you all right, Rowan?” The man asked with concern and Rowan shook his head feverishly, eyes wide and afraid, hands shaking so violently he pinned them under his armpits to stop them, he wanted Peter. He didn’t want to be here anymore.

“N-no! No, go away!” He screamed in as furious a tone as he could manage – even though it came out as a petulant cry. 

“Leave me alone! You are a liar! You haven’t changed! You-you just want to trick me!” He felt his back sliding along the brick as he shifted away. “I won’t fall for it! I won’t! I’m done with people trying to manipulate me!” He fell pathetically to his knees and sobbed desperately.

“I don’t want to trick you, Rowan,” The man’s voice said softly over his hiccups. “But, I understand that this is a lot to take in since it’s been ten years since we last saw each other.”

“Ten years?” Rowan exclaimed, looking up despite his fear.

“You were twelve when I forced you out, weren’t you?” His father asked, crouching to match his level.

“No, I mean, yes, I was, but…I didn’t realise it had been so long.” He hadn’t thought much of his father in years, after the first he had more pressing matters to focus on. 

Mainly eating.

“Rowan!” He turned to see Peter approaching, quickly and slightly out-of-breath. “Are you all right? I’m sorry I left you again,” He fell to his knees beside Rowan and brushed the tears on his cheeks.

“John, what did you do?” He demanded, turning to stand up again.

“I simply told Rowan what had happened since the last time I saw him and told him how sorry I was for everything I had done to him.” The man explained solemnly, making no move to get up.

“Why is he so upset?” Peter asked defensively, pausing when a small hand reached into his.

“Peter, I-I’m fine, can we just go home?” Rowan whispered. “Please?” His voice broke as he begged and Peter’s anger dissipated immediately.

“Of course, of course we can,” He murmured, leaning down and helping Rowan to his feet. “Here, are these yours?” He reached for the quilt and the sewing kit abandoned when Rowan was first shoved against the wall and handed them to the boy.

“I am sorry, Rowan,” John said gently, watching from his distance. “That won’t change whether you forgive me or not. Although I hope you may give me an opportunity to prove it to you, whenever you are comfortable being with me again.” He hesitated as Rowan’s red eyes met his and sighed. 

“I would hate to lose you again.” Rowan’s face crumpled and he took a nervous step towards the man, eyes focused on his hands, watching for any surprise attack. He came a foot away and fearfully reached out to embrace his father once more before leaving.

It was unfamiliar, being hugged by someone other than Peter or Cordelia. His family. But shouldn’t his father be a part of that family? He felt the thick arms wrap around his shoulders and press his head gently against the man’s chest, rough fingers gently slipping through his hair.

“I missed you, Rowan,” John mumbled and Rowan grunted softly in reply, focusing on every place their skin touched, and the comforting smell that parents just seemed to exude. 

But once again the threat of what those arms could, and had, done to him ruined the moment, and he jerked out of the grip suddenly, blushing bright red from embarrassment.

“I-I missed you, too, father,” He admitted and John smiled at him.

“Whenever you like, my door will be open, and it doesn’t matter if you ever forgive me. I know I don’t deserve it. But as I said, I don’t want to lose you again.” He promised and Rowan nodded.

“I don’t…I may not see you for a while, I never, I didn’t think –“

“That’s all right. I only want you to be happy.” Rowan felt his lips twitch up slightly as he regarded the man from his past in a new light, far more comforting when he felt Peter’s protective hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, father.” He murmured, leaning into Peter’s touch.

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Summary: Javi hasn't called...again, Isa tries to distract herself making a new friend, but she doesn't know that her intentions are far from innocent and are tied to Javi crossing paths again with someone from his past.

Warning: cursing, mention of violence, threats, anxiety, kidnapping. Very hateful characters from the show 👀

A/N: I'M SO SORRY THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN POSTED ALMOST A MONTH AGO. I will try to finish this before this month ends. I think I could wrap this in one chapter more and an epilogue probably.

Just a small warning. This is a work of fiction and the intention is merely to develop a little bit more of a character I adore, Javi Peña. There's mention of the drug cartel, the violence they inflected in Latinoamérica (and as a Latina it hurts me very deeply, believe me) and the political involvement of different governments and agencies but this is not a political statement or trying to do other thing than entertain.

Chapter VII: Smart Choices

Isabel had never been a very popular girl, always the shy one in high school and she made a very small group of friends in college. But as everything in her life, there was a before and after since her life changed and she had Elvira.

She could not go to the club with her friends, their conversations about their new graduate’s struggles hurt her since she had to drop out, their heartbreaks and adventures had nothing to do with her life surrounded by diapers, feeding bottles and sleepless nights and so one day the phone stopped ringing, their friendship was limited to birthday parties and Christmas postcards while she became a mum and a wife. And thus making her world a very small universe with her child at the center and Javi and her turning around her.

So when that lady at the supermarket, Judy, called her she didn’t think anything weird out of it. Instead she was happy, excited to have another struggling mum that needed some comforting from somebody that understands her as much as she did.

“I’m sorry I took the liberty to ask for your phone number, I have a friend that goes to your mum’s salon and I ask her for it” she had said the first time she called.

Judy is a funny and very quick and intelligent woman. When they got their first coffee together, Isa barely asks any question, Judy fills the conversations so Isabel never has the chance to ask when she is meeting her kid or who gave her her phone number since she knows every client of her mother’s salon by heart and nobody mentioned her ever. But Judy keeps the conversation flowing, sharing her tragic story about leaving Colombia out of a very tough situation with a guy and creating a new life for her and her kid in the USA.

“It must have been so tough” Isa pounders

“Colombia back then was a bloodbath, you had to navigate the streets in survival mode, always looking behind your back and praying to come back home safe” Judy explains

“My husband worked in Colombia for a few years”

“Oh really? When?”

“80’s early 90’s"

“Well, he must have known. So sad! it is a very beautiful country...”Judy’s gaze is fixed far away as if she’s remembering something

“I guess it’s difficult to talk about it, my husband never shares much”

“Mm” she hums, she opens a golden lighter and gets the flame close to the cigarette on her red lips “What did he do there?”

“He worked at the Embassy” she’s not lying but she prefers not to specify, and now that’s past, the details are not really important

“Oh! and that’s what he’s doing in Mexico now?” she asks exhaling a white cloud of smoke making a perfect o with her lips

“Not exactly”

“He must be careful; I heard things are following the same path we suffered back in Colombia”

“Yes...he’s...smart, I’m sure he will be fine” Isa answers more to convince herself than her new friend

“I saw in the news the other day how a few civilians died during a clash between two fronting cartels and then the police. Very, very horrible images" she smacks her lips

"I haven't watched the news…" the knot in Isa's stomach grows tighter, Javi haven't called back even if he promised he would

"They kill anyone that is on their way, civilians, gringos too, DEA agents…" the Colombian woman casually brings the coffee cup to her lips when Isa frowns at her

"What did you say?" She asks

"They kill civilians?" Judy smiles uncomfortably the corner of her lips stretching up

"No, the last part"

"Gringos...DEA agents" she repeats

"Why did you say that?" The knot gets tighter restringing her throat and her question is just a whisper

"I… assume Javier must be…"

"I haven't told you what he does"

Judy gasps and bats her long black lashes a few times before changing her face to a complete cold expression, her glossy lips now a tight red line

"Look, Isabel, I think you are a very smart woman…" she starts

"I'm leaving"

Isabel pushes her chair back to go but the other woman's hand holds her to the table, her perfect manicure claws making her stay

"Sit, don't do anything stupid" Judy spats, the brief confrontation has alerted the waiters and they look at them intently until Judy gives them a very warm apologetic smile

"Who are you? What do you want?" Isabel tries to hold herself but her instincts is crying for her tu run, to get her baby back and look for Javier

But Javi could be anywhere

"You know your husband and I met, many years ago" she continues smoking "we worked closely in the hunt of Escobar" she smirks "I admit I was surprised to find him married and with a kid. He used to be involved with a very different type of woman"

"What do you want from Javi? If you hurt him I swear…" Isa mutters

"You must have been really special. A magical pussy" she laughs "or are you that dumb and naive that he lied to you and believed it" she crosses her arms over her chest, looking with a smug face from the white cloud of smoke "do you know what he did in Colombia? Do you know what he's capable of?"

"Where is he? If you touch him I swear to God I kill you" Isa tries to contain the tears, to seem strong but fails which makes Judy smile wider

"Oh! So you are an idiot little girl. Better keep up, cielo, if you want your husband alive"

México

A constant, something that keeps on proving itself to be right: shit does follow him. He tries the breathing techniques that the doctor showed him but the bag on his head stinks like rotten meat and the heat inside the van is unbearable. He finds a little solace feeling Steve's tigh pressed against his. Both of them rocking back and forth with each bump on the road

"Connie is going to kill me" his friend says

" If they don't kill us first"

"Callense cabrones" one shouts and Javi hears the muttering insult Steve pronounces before receiving one hit himself

He feels the vomit running up his throat, the smell, the heat and the fear have mixed themselves on his stomach and he can no longer calm himself down. He’s about to die, he knows it. About time, my friend, I elude death for so long in Colombia, so many close calls and now I’m about to die in some unknown part of Mexico because of a fucking middle age crisis I couldn’t handle.

He tries so hard to close his lips and swallow, breath, Peña, breath. The only cold thing in this van is the thin silver chain and medallion he wears around his neck.

This would be a marvellous moment to do some magic, old man Javi says to himself and that old saint around his neck. What did Isa call the old man engraved in it? Saint Jude. Okay, Jude, show yourself, please. This is actually a lost cause, it’s your field of expertise, c’mon

“Andando” the sicario pushes him out of the van before he can even process they have stopped the vehicle. The man grabs him by the arm harshly and guides him forward, the sun pierces the black bag over his head but he can’t only perceive the light and the sound of the gravel under his boots.

Suddenly the light changes to a white light and he feels the temperature lowering: a house with air conditioner and there’s a soft murmur of water but otherwise the house is silent. Javi memorizes those tiny details, it’s the only thing that could eventually help him if they’re held hostage and not killed right away.

The sicario pushes him and for a few milliseconds Javier thinks he’s about to fall hard to the ground but ends up on a chair. Then they pull both his arms to the back without any care and handcuffs him there.

Javi jumps from his seat when he hears the loud thump of the door closing, still in the dark and without any sign of company, he calls:

“Steve…”

Nothing

“Your friend is in the other room”

He could recognize that fucking voice anywhere, is engravated in his brain, in that part of his head that is capable of the worst, that tiny espace where he keeps every hateful and the worst people he has met, Bill Stechner being the number one on that list.

“I was so happy thinking you were dead and crawling back to hell” Javi sighs before he’s hit by the clarity in the room. He blinks fast until his eyes are adjusted to it again. It’s a nice room, wide and scattered by a few pieces of furniture covered by white sheets, the dust in the air makes evident it has been closed for a long time.

“So was I thinking you were rotting old in your father’s little ranch but here we are”

His beard is greyer and the already receding hairline is back a few inches, but he looks exactly the same, tha smug stupid face is looking at him from above. That smirk of “I’m always five steps ahead from you” the same he had when he made him leave the Embassy before catching Escobar and the same he had when he tried to take down Cali. But now he’s here in Mexico, what the fuck is he doing here?

“And, do tell, please, why the fuck do are path cross again?” Javier spats

“Oh! I didn’t want to cross paths with you. I must admit I found it funny when I saw who was managing the account for our textile export, but you, being the noisy stupid man that you are “ Stechner approaches him, his smirk freezes in a tight line “had to call your friends. And you see, you’re mending on my business again”

“So you switched from the CIA to the Narcos?”

“Javier, javier…” he sighs “You are always focusing in the wrong things and not in the bigger picture”

“The bigger picture being…” Javier rolls his eyes at him

“You wouldn’t understand, I tried a few times in Colombia and you ended up fucking it all up” he shakes his head

“So what do you want from me now?”

“Well now that you are here fucking everything up again I’d prefer if the repercussions go to the right direction”

“Which is it not yours, I guess, or whomever you’re working for”

“Yeah” he laughs and points at him “you’re smart when you want”

“And wouldn’t it be better to kill us right away?”

“Oh, you see, my associetes want to do it” Stechner nods “The really don’t give a fuck. But I told them that you could be of service”

“You’re really delusional if you think…”

Stechner interrupts him “And if you weren’t willing to cooperate we could always resort to the good old ways” the man walks to a nearby table, over the white sheet there’s a manila folder. Bill opens it slowly, that stupid smirk back at again on his face, relishing on the desperation and fear in Javi’s eyes.

Please, not Isa, please not my child

“Your wife made a new friend, it’s a small world after all, isn’t it?” Stechner shows him a picture, he recognises the cafe, Isa is seated talking to another woman he hasn’t seen in years.

“Judy is very nice when she wants” he takes out another picture, this time Isa is on the backyard playing with Elvi “You have a very beautiful family”

“If you touch them, motherfucker” Javi tries to get out of the chair, he doesn’t even care if the metal from the cuff cuts his wrists. He just want to do what he has wanted to do since he started working in Colombia and crossed paths with the CIA

“They won’t, it is entirely upon you that this is just a simple anecdote. I promised I’ll try to control them...if you do what you have to do” Stechner shrugs and throws the pictures to the floor where they rest in front of Javi’s feet

“What do you want?” he murmurs, his gaze is fixed on those images trying to see something, when were they taken? how does he know if they already hurt them?

Please, please he begs and his vision is starting to blurry

“Well, my associates will appreciate it if the DEA will center its efforts on our common enemy. You see it right? it’s the same story all over again; the enemy of my enemy is my friend…”

“I’m not DEA anymore”

“Are you? I mean you’re here with your dear Steve in an ongoing investigation that mainly relies on your testimony so…”

Stechner roams around Javier’s chair “It’s not like you haven’t done it before, Javi, think about it as if you are involving yourself with the lesser evil, there will be a time to capture my associates, but not now”

“Just go back home and when the time comes you can assure the DEA that those terrible horrible people that are getting that poison in our beautiful country are involved with our common enemy. What is the difference between one Cartel and the other? It just a matter of time they both get caught” he continues

“Why are you involved in this?”

“We’ve done this many times, Peña, let it go. It’s better this way or do you want to end up like Kiki? or better yet, your beautiful wife or your kid?” Bill points to the pictures of the Peña’s family “think about it”

And he thinks about it, the hate and the fear burning in his chest. So many years protecting himself in covers of solitude, brief encounters to relieve the stress and alcohol, protecting his heart from this fear and pain of getting his family killed for his job.

You did this to them, you looked for it. Now what?

Isa (Laredo)

She drives fast, fast as she has never driven before. She has always been a very responsible person and even more when she became a mother. Elvira is seated on the back, her little hands holding the seat hard and she has called her a few times, her voice shaky and scared.

“Mami, where are we going?”

“To Grandpa’s, honey”

“You’re too fast”

“I know, but we need to get there now”

The screeching sound of the tires stopping abruptly on the road has alerted Chucho who now waits with the porch lights on when they get out of the car.

“Mija, what’s wrong?” he screams

“I think Javi is in the danger”

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 27

Chapter title: Clocks Tick and Phones Still Ring

A/n: ....yall im so sorry for how long this took and the fact that not only did it take forever but it fucking sucks. I hate this I'm sorry I can't just here I'm so sorry

First | Previous | Next

words: 2155

summary: Through troubling times Logans mind run wilds trying his best

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene,  murder, gun mention, guns, swearing abuse, graphic descriptions, alcohol, shooting, crying

Ao3 Link  

Twenty minutes later...

Do you know what you are supposed to do when the love of your life sits pale and barely breathing in a room?

No Im genuinely asking

Because running out of the room and collapsing to sobs on your knees does seem valid however Logan just stood there. He stood there frozen, Barbara knew what to do. She ran to Pattons side, taking his cold hand, silent tears as she examines his soft face. Virgil emerges moments later, the family rule disposed of as he takes Patton's other side.  Roman took the end, and soon the room felt tight, he couldn't breathe.

He wanted to yell

Or cry

Or do anything remarkably human

But he just stood, nurses and doctors rushed by him, his friends talked in whispers of concern.

Why didn't he care?

He could hear the rest of them talking, questions fired at the nurses and doctors, sweet words of encouragement for a speedy and safe recovery for Patton. Telling them how much they care for him, but not Logan. In what seemed like minutes, the rest had decided to give Logan a moment. A moment for what? That was lost on him but alas the room fell quiet.

“This is your own fault, you understand that right?” He finally sets on speaking, not that anything would respond. Unless you count the steady monitor and the wheezes from the machines. “I'm not sure how many times I must clarify this but I'm not Liam. You can tell me things, you can trust me”

He scoffs, his arms crossed over his heart.

“None of us are Liam. You know I don't say ‘I love you’ ok?” He pushes, he can feel his nostrils flare. Do something Patton, respond. “I've only said it to my mothers and you” He glares, why was he just laying there. How dare he? “You took that from me!” He takes a second, breathing deep. “You knew...you knew this was going to happen. You have a will...its reasonable. You have two kids, a sister and assets at your disposal. But they showed it to me, they brought it to me”

He took his copy out, the crumpled and tear stained document felt too heavy.

“I, Patton Hart, residing at 1823 Millow Lane, declare this to be my Will, and I revoke any and all wills and codicils I previously made.” Logan begins to read, his hands shake noticeably but he continues. “I leave minor children surviving me, my daughter Valerie and son Remus. I appoint as guardian of the person and property of my minor children my partner Logan Tolentino. He shall have custody of my minor children, and shall serve without bond. If he does not qualify or for any reason ceases to serve as guardian, I appoint as successor guardian my sister Barbara Hart.” He finishes, some small part of him almost hopes that Patton awakes. An explanation ready. “This was recent, you knew, you knew something was going on!” He shouts, he tries to recenter but he can't, everything is too much. How was he supposed to handle these things?

“Logan? Everything alright?” A knock allows him to remember he's here.

“M’fine” He lies, and soon it's just him once more. “You changed it, this was clearly recent because I know you. I know that it takes you forever to trust people...although looking back on this unfortunate event you don't trust me. How dare you do this? How dare you not tell me, how dare you turn away from and do this” He rips the paper, watching its remains crumple to the ground “It's not that I can't do it, or won't” He states “Its that I don't want to…” He approaches Patton, finding himself next to the pale faced man. “I don't want to do this without you” He breaks, the anger shatters as his hand meets Patton's cold touch. “Please Patton..” He barely whispers at this point, his heart feels too heavy to be his own. “You do not get to be the love of my life and then die, you do not get to do this to me. Do you understand?”

“Papa?” Logan turns and eyes in horror as the twins, so bubbly and sweet, lose everything about them. Emile bursts through, his eyes and breath apologetic. “What happened...to papa?” Remus cries, Valerie shakes her head.

“Logan I am so sorry, they ju-” Emile begins but Logan sighs.

“It's alright” He assures standing, Emile takes his cue and walks away, leaving the three of them in the room...well four of them, for now. He takes them both in his arms, a breath of relief knowing they exist, knowing they are there and ok. He leads them to the bed, sitting at the end as they fear their place. Valerie squirms first, crawling closer, but alas her hands recoil. Remus has no qualms, he jumps hugging his father.

“Papa wake up please” He begs, his voice so soft. His energy and excitement for the mystery of life is gone. He wanted certainty, he wanted his father. Soon his sad calm aura turned quick to confused anger. “Wake up! Wake up papa! Wake up!” he cries, Valerie's simple tears, as she watched in pity for her brother, were nothing compared to the waterfall. Logan takes the boy, embracing him gently in his arms, soothing him to breathe. Valerie adjusts herself under the blankets, hugging Patton as she tries to mimic his sleep pattern. Logan watches knowing his world is breaking, and he's only got a smidgen of knowledge of what to do.

“The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout, down came the rain and washed the spider out” Valerie hums, Remus eyes her red and puffed. She continues her gentle tone, and Remus joins her on Patton's other side. Both cozying up to him, simple and sweet tunes until the pair tire themselves out. Sleeping away, Logan sits in the chair, he watches hoping to protect them for a moment before his own eyes fall prey to the idea of rest.

~~~

A week later…

“So we ended up going to the wrong store” Logan explains as he sets up the meal, the children giggle placing the sheet over the table. The hospital had granted them permission to use a table, and set up for meals in Patton's room. “Here you are” He hands plates to Valerie, she juggles them carefully setting them neatly upon the surface.

“Imma go get napkins!” Remus declares, he enjoys the sweet gushes the nurses give him so running through the halls was his favorite pastime.

“He's not gonna come back with napkins” Valerie sighs, continuing to help Logan. He sits by Patton, recalling their day. “Lollipops maybe, but not napkins” She finishes giving Logan his moment to set the food. He had been trying his hardest, help from Roman and Remy was required for cooking. He followed the recipe and tried for a simple mac and cheese today, with some salad and sweet desserts.

“Ready?” Logan asks as Remus emerges with a bundle of his own finds, none of which included his treasure he had set to get.

“Don't forget food for papa” Remus reminds, Valerie nods already chomping into her meal. The twins had insisted they set a place for him every time, serve him food and Logan would wait until he was alone to pack it back up. They knew he wasn't eating it but it was nice. “He's going to be so big and strong when he wakes up”

If he wakes up

“Absolutely” Logan agrees. So they eat and Emile comes to pick them up for a day away, Logan cleans and makes sure everything returns to normal. He can't say he doesn't enjoy the few moments alone, it takes time to go from a solitary routine, to adding a romantic partner and then children.

But he misses the second part more than he cares to admit. He sits at the end of the bed, stroking away Patton's loose hairs, the freezing touch scares him. He moves closer, somehow finding himself exhausted and wrapped around Patton. Its funny, he used to dream of the day's end when he could cuddle up in bed alone, the world was his own. But he hadn't realized how much he missed having someone, Patton, there with him until it was gone. Sleep had been awful, restless, but as soon as he had his protective arms around Patton, making sure he was ok...Logan fell fast.

“Careful Lo, hes just a baby” Patton smiles, swaddling the young child in Logan's arms. The man fears his own breath, the smallest of tears as he watches the young one snore so easily. Patton keeps his arms connected and in this moment they just are, they feel connected. A soft kiss to Logans cheek as footsteps shuffle behind him.

“This is Jamahl, Terrences brother” Cindy introduces, Patton flashes his award winning smile. The boy remains hesitant, keeping his eyes steady on the little child in Logan's arms, he has no choice he thinks. If he wants to keep his brother safe this is his option. So he goes with them.

“Where are we going?” He asks, as the neighborhood finds itself less familiar. Patton looked at him, he insisted on sitting in the back with the children. Keeping an eye on the baby.

“Home” He replies, Jamahl scoffs shaking his head. “My home, and Logans and if you would like it to be...your home” Patton corrects, Jamahl gets a choice? That's new. “Oh I should warn you-”

“Here it comes” The twelve year old sighs, Patton keeps a gentle grin.

“I have two twins at home, they're both five years old.” He pulls out his phone, swiping to show a shining photo of Patton and two young ecstatic children, “Thats Valerie and that's Remus” He points, beaming with pride. Jamahl nods, ok...not as bad. “They're wonderful and...five years old and very excitable so just be wary” He laughs, Logan could never get tired of the sweet sound.

They arrived at the house quickly, and Patton was not wrong to warn the child.

“Im Valerie!” A young girl smiles, shaking his hand vivaciously.

“Im Remus!” The boy greets, a giant hug. Jamahl freezes but allows it to happen, thanking whatever ethereal being let Patton pull the twins off him.

“Remember what I told you humbugs, no touching unless they are comfortable with it ok?” Patton reminds, they nod before waving their goodbyes. They run off and Logan disappears into the hall, coddling the baby. Jamahl looks worried and Patton assures him. “You wanna come see what's going on?”

“Yes please” He nods and finds himself allowing Patton to lead him into the baby room. A bed set up for him as well, he watches Logan be ever so careful with the baby and Patton respect his boundaries. He shrugs.

Maybe this won't be so bad.

~~~

A month later...

“Its your fucking fault!” Logan decides, Emile shushes him backing him up from Virgils heated face. “Everything that is happening is your fault!”

“Logan you're being a dick right now” Remy announces, a glare from Emile quiets him. Logan scoffs kicking the chair underneath him, scaring even Roman.

“And yours too” He points, his nasty finger threatening the detectives. “Why didn't you do anything, day after day he came to you! About Liam! And now because of your fucking negligence, he was too scared to come to you and tell you about these phone calls!”

“You know what Lo? I shouldn't have told you, as of now you have no legal bindings to Patton, so me telling you that we searched his phone and found the phone calls, that was a courtesy” Virgil spits, Logan goes to approach not sure what his next move is but thanks to Roman and James he has no time to figure it out. They command him to sit, calming both parties and get a soothing talk down.

“You know it's his fault Roman” Logan sighs exasperated, Roman nods unsure but doesn't want to to escalate.

“You know what, fuck you Logan!” Virgil screams, Logan stands.

“You're the reason those children are gonna lose their father!” Logan retorts, that catches something. Virgil pushes past Remy, almost landing one on Logan before Roman grabs him, both surprised by how well they fit together. Silly to think about at this moment.

“Maybe if you weren't so fucking cold they would see you as a father” Virgil replies once more, that hurt. Logan won't lie that his knees buckled and he might have fallen right then had Barbara and Marcy not taken him and cared for him. He wants to keep going but a chilling throat clears the room. Instantly they both look to the doctor who stands, judgmental but patient.

“Hes awake”