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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Note

A-Yuan wasn’t the only child among the Wen Remnants, just the youngest.

Children's Day - ao3

Lan Wangji carefully scooped up the boy out of his hiding place, tucked beneath a pile of stones, sick with fever and fast asleep.

It was a good hiding place. If Lan Wangji hadn’t played Inquiry and demanded to know if there were any living beings around in this cursed place of death, he would never have found the small child.

He remembered him – this was little A-Yuan, who Wei Wuxian had taken down into town to play, the one Lan Wangji had bought all those toys for in his confusion, the one who called him rich-gege. Barely more than two years old, having never known anything but war.

He was all that was left, now. There was nothing else left in the battlefield.

No one else left.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes in pain.

I’ll care for him for you, he promised Wei Wuxian’s ghost, wherever it might be now. Now that you cannot.

I’ll take him back to Gusu to raise as my own – wishing you were by my side.

-Earlier-

“Sect Leader!” one of his aides cried out when he staggered back into camp. “What – who’s that?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at the girl in his arms. She was – four, maybe? Five? He had no idea.

She looked a bit like Wen Qing.

“I found her hiding in the corner of the battlefield when she made a noise,” he said hoarsely. “The Wen sect remnants…by the time I got there, they were almost all dead already, all her family. She’s – she’s young. It didn’t seem right.”

Wei Wuxian always liked children, he thought vaguely to himself as he looked down at her. It wasn’t so much of a surprise that he would keep one there…in fact, if he thought back to that horrible meeting they’d had that one time he’d come to the Burial Mounds to try to talk to Wei Wuxian, he thought he remembered there being a small child there. This must be her.

She was bigger than he remembered, but that was what happened with small children, wasn’t it?

“Her surname is Wen?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng snapped automatically, and his aide took a step back from his vehemence. “The Wen sect is dead, you understand? All of them. The cultivation world refused to allow them to live, that much is obvious enough. Her surname…”

He looked down at her.

I failed Wei Wuxian, he thought grimly. I won’t fail his legacy.

“Her surname will be Jiang.”

-Earlier-

“We found this child hiding in the Demon Subduing Cave,” one of the guards reported, looking nervous. “Lianfeng-zun – what do we do with them?”

Jin Guangyao frowned down at the child, judging the child’s age to be about five or six – maybe seven, considering the likelihood of malnutrition at the Burial Mounds. If they were any younger, he would’ve said that the child ought to just execute them as useless; any older, and he would’ve had no choice but to declare them an enemy combatant, and thereby order them executed.

At this age, though…they were still young enough to be taught to forget their current surname, and to learn new loyalties, and yet old enough to perhaps remember a little of what they had learned, living as they had for a few years with the inventor of demonic cultivation.

Jin Guangyao glanced at the papers in his hands, full of barely legible scribbles, laying out powerful new spells and interesting ideas. They would help Xue Yang with his work – but not as much as a helper would, and naturally they’d just brutally executed all the other ‘helpers’ that might have been available.

Not exactly Jin Guangyao’s personal preference, but he wasn’t the one leading the Jin sect army.

Still, his father, who had been the one leading, had retired to his tent, and now Jin Guangyao was the one with the power, left to be in charge of mopping up. That, in turn, gave him a little more leeway, which meant he could implement his own thoughts, rather than badly thought out instructions.

“Put the child in my tent,” he said, and smiled. “The poor thing must have gotten lost and entered the battlefield – after we arrived. You understand?”

The guard saluted deeply. “Lianfeng-zun is kind and beneficent,” he said, and his expression was worshipful. “I will tell the others that the child is from some distant Jin branch.”

Jin Guangyao hadn’t intended for him to do that, but – well, he couldn’t exactly refute it now, could he, and anyway there were worse things to happen. Everyone would know that he had kindly taken in some orphaned child of war, which would be good for his reputation.

He smiled and nodded, and thought of the future.

-Earlier-

“Well, shit,” Nie Mingjue said, staring at the trio of children: nine or ten years old, he thought, maybe a little older, two girls and a boy. They stared back at him, wide-eyed and terrified – they were very clearly trying to sneak off the Burial Mounds down the back way.

Nie Mingjue rubbed his face, glad that he’d insisted on doing the forward scout work before the attack tomorrow morning himself rather than let it go to someone else. He hadn’t wanted to come to this blasted place in the first place, being that he still wasn’t sure exactly what had gone down with Wei Wuxian, who’d been a good man once. But good Nie cultivators had died at Lanling City at Wen Ning’s hands, the Jin sect claiming that that brutal attack was at Wei Wuxian’s instigation, and at the Nightless City at Wei Wuxian’s hands directly, and he didn’t have any evidence to exculpate the man, either; he had no grounds to look the families of those Nie cultivators in the eye and tell them not to pursue vengeance against the man who had slaughtered their brothers and fathers and sons, sisters and mothers and daughters, like they meant nothing.

They deserved vengeance.

Just as he had, for his father.

But at the same time…

“You’re all surnamed Wen, I take it?” he asked, and they slowly nodded. “Dafan Wen?”

Another nod.

“Wrong answer,” he said, making a snap decision. This wasn’t like his father at all, not really; he had wanted to kill Wen Ruohan, who had done the deed himself, while these children clearly hadn’t done anything. “Swear to me here and now that you won’t seek revenge for your sect or family, and you can be surnamed Nie instead.”

They looked at each other.

“Your family didn’t send you to run away because they wanted you to take revenge,” he said. It was a guess, but he could tell from the way their shoulders sagged that he was right. “They wanted you to live. Well?”

They swore.

He took them home.

-Earlier-

She tripped and fell flat on her face.

“Hey, girl!”

She looked up, eyes wide with terror – she hadn’t expected to be caught so soon – but the cultivator in front of her didn’t strike her down. He was a young man, just a few years older than her, and he looked nice, kneeling to help her up.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did you get lost?”

Lost? From where would she get lost, exactly?

Despite that, she nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Here isn’t a good place, though – we’re going to have a battle tomorrow…can you tell me where you’re from?” He frowned. “Or – can’t you speak?”

An idea suddenly came to mind, and she shook her head, lifting up her hands to mime signs like the ones she’d seen Lady Wen and her brother use sometimes when they needed to talk without disturbing others.

“Doesn’t talk,” he murmured to himself. “Clothing of white, ripped all to ribbons –”

She’d torn out any trace of the red sun. White was a common color, but she was old enough to know that she couldn’t let anyone know she was surnamed Wen.

“Oh, I’ve read about this before! Are you a bird yao that’s cultivated to humanity?”

What?

She’d been thinking of trying to pass as a traumatized war veteran, but she was only fourteen, after all; it wasn’t very believable. Of course, it was a lot more believable that bird yao – who would leap to that conclusion?

“My surname is Ouyang,” the man said, smiling brightly at her. “You should come back with me – I can teach you to speak, and we can give you a name…how about ‘Luo’ as a surname? That has to do with birds. Or we could surname you Bai, instead, since your clothing is white! Or maybe -”

She smiled helplessly at his nonsense. What a silly, cheerful man! Maybe she’d overestimated his age, he couldn’t be more than two or three years older, at most, and his brain was clearly not in the right place, filled up to the brim with romantic stories and adventure tales instead of facts.

It was a nice change, actually.

She accepted his hand as she stood.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-Earlier-

Lan Wangji had returned home and submitted to a dreadful punishment. The elders he had injured on Wei Wuxian’s behalf were either in treatment or recovering.

As for the rest that had been at the Nightless City…

Many were dead.

Lan Qiren landed in the Burial Mounds, lips pressed tightly together.

He knew he was taking a risk in coming here to Wei Wuxian’s lair – no matter what Lan Wangji thought, whatever good points he’d had in the past, the man was now little better than a mad dog. He’d caused the death of three thousand people just the day before, three thousand innocents that hadn’t had anything to do with anything; why would he hesitate to attack his old teacher?

There was already talk of a siege – Jiang Cheng himself had promised to lead it, to wipe off the stain on the Jiang sect’s record, and the Jin sect had been right behind him. Even Nie Mingjue had been dragged in against his will, suborned by his sect members’ need for vengeance. As for the Lan Sect…Lan Xichen had looked so stricken by the thought that Lan Qiren had volunteered for the grim duty, despite Lan Qiren having never been much of a fighter and even less of a general. He intended to take only the smallest possible contingent, and to limit their work as much as possible to cleansing the dead rather than killing those who remained there – that much, at least, he could do for his nephew.

Either way, though, no matter his powers, Wei Wuxian would not live out the week.

If Lan Qiren desired vengeance, he need only wait.

And yet, here he was.

Alone, practically unarmed – and here nonetheless.

An old woman came out from the cave and squinted at him.

“It’s over,” she said sadly. “Isn’t it?”

Lan Qiren looked at her. One of the Wen remnants that Wei Wuxian had surrounded himself with, he assumed; the ones he’d given up his comfortable life for, claiming he was only acting as a righteous man ought. Perhaps he even had thought he was, back then.

Perhaps he really had been, back then.

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, and cleared his throat. “After what he did at the Nightless City – the verdict is unquestionably death. But the rest of you…there are armies coming, and armies are not known for their leniency, especially not on passerby with the wrong surname. But they’re not here yet. There’s still time to flee – if you go now, you could take on a new surname and find some quiet place to live on.”

Lan Wangji had said they were civilians. Civilian life was to be prioritized above all else.

Lan Qiren was only doing what he must.

Despite his well-meant warnings, however, the old lady shook her head.

“There’s nowhere to go, and we won’t give up our surname,” she said, polite but stubborn to the last. “But thank you for taking the time to come here to tell us.”

“Wangji said that there were children here,” Lan Qiren insisted, ignoring her refusal. “If you won’t flee with them, at least send those that are old enough out on their own, and hide the younger ones. Tell them to forget their surnames – most people won’t rampantly murder children, so there’s a chance they’ll make it through, and live. Can you deny them that, just for pride?”

That gave the old woman pause.

“We’ll do what we can,” she said, and then eyed him. “How good are you at medicine?”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I can’t provide care –”

“She’s already dead. Come help anyway.”

The woman in question was not already dead, but dying – she was in her late teens, seventeen or eighteen at most, and she was in labor. From the glassiness of her eyes, the redness of her cheeks, and the threadiness of her pulse, it was clear that infection had long ago set in. It was not an exaggeration to say she was dead, little better than a corpse.

She was little more than a child.

“I don’t want her to die alone,” the old woman said. “But if you stay with her, I can use the time to try to take care of the rest. You’re not wrong, I suppose – the children, at least, deserve a chance to live on, even if it means leaving our surname behind.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the woman, unconscious already and unlikely to ever wake, and yet still whimpering. “And her child?”

The old woman looked surprised. “Can a child born like this still live?”

Lan Qiren had almost no medical training beyond the most superficial basics that were the necessity for any battlefield or night-hunt, with one sole exception: he had supervised the births of both his nephews by himself with little aid – his brother’s wife hadn’t wanted anyone else to be present, possibly in an attempt to prematurely enter her grave, possibly just out of spite. He had studied very hard in the days leading up to those births, and knew far more on the subject than most men did.

“It’s possible,” he said. “Unlikely, but – possible.”

He hesitated for a long moment.

“I can take the baby,” he finally said. “Pass him off as some war-orphan child of distant Lan cousins, sent to me on account of their deaths. I could raise him, or else give him to my cousin to raise; he’s got a large enough family that no one would question it.”

“Why would you do that?”

Lan Qiren looked at the woman who was dying, little more than a child herself. “Because of the children I can’t help.”

The old woman was quiet for a little while.

“Very well,” she said, and leaned forward to whisper the name the young woman had thought about for her child into his ear. “That works with Lan as a surname, wouldn’t it? That’s not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Lan Qiren agreed, and rolled up his sleeves, settling down beside the girl. “Not bad at all.”

#mdzs #lan wangji #jiang cheng #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #lan qiren #original characters #my fic #my fics #children's day #some untamed elements

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anxiousstark · 4 years ago

Text

S3 18 | The Insatiable Divine Move

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE | KO-FI

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 6908

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, stabs, drugs, death, sex, handjobs, dirty talk, clothing humping, swearing (always), etc.

A/N: Hello there. I’m back. Thank you so much for understanding that I couldn’t upload these last two weeks. But here I am. Two chapters in one and a little surprise at the end. Stiles and Y/N are starting to explore their relationship in other aspects. Enjoy <3.

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

Scott helped Stiles walk back to the living room as Noshiko stood there. "Do you recognize me, hmm?"

Stiles nodded his head as Kira appeared, begging her mother to stop. "It's okay." He stepped closer to the woman. "I'm the one who asked her to come."

"You're the one who's going to get stabbed with swords." She glanced at her mother. "Mom, don't do this to him."

"It's already done." Her eyes were focused on Stiles. I was confused by what was going on, until two shadows appeared, grabbing Stiles's from the back of his ear. I quickly tried to step forward, but Melissa and Scott kept me in place, even if I begged them to let me go. I needed to help him. I needed to save him. "Look behind his ear."

I didn't hesitate to fall onto my knees, my hands rubbing Stiles's back while the others looked behind his ear. "It worked." My brother sighed.

"So, I'm actually me?" His body shook while he glanced at Kira's mother.

"More you than the Nogitsune."

"Can The Oni find him?"

"Tomorrow night. It's too close to dawn now."

"Can they kill him?"

"It depends on how strong he is."

"What about Lydia? Why would he take her?" I intervened in the conversation.

Noshiko glanced at me. "He would only take her for an advantage."

"You mean her power?" It was my brother's turn to ask.

"The power of a Banshee."

Stiles's body continued shaking. "I will bring something warm." Getting up from the ground, I walked near-by Noshiko, her hand clenching my arm. I furrowed my eyebrows while meeting her gaze.

"You were stronger and more determined than me." She made a gesture to Stiles, letting me know that she was talking about how she couldn't save Rhys. But was Stiles safe? "However, onis are powerful, and something will end up happening."

"Then, I will try my best," I whispered. "But no one is touching Stiles anymore." I flashed my eyes. "They will have to get over my dead body." She smirked, nodding her head.

"Hey," I swirled around. "Hide those ice blue for me." I laughed, and maybe I looked crazy at that moment as tears fell down my cheek at the same time. But that was the first thing I've heard coming from the real Stiles in a long time.

Scott opened the door of Noah's office, waiting for him to turn around and see the person he was so desperate to find. "If I could just find my keys." I had a little smile on my face as Mr Stilinski muttered those words to himself.

"In your coffee cup." Noah quickly swirled around as the unmistakable voice of his son resonated through the room. "You always drop them in your empty cup."

Noah blinked a couple of times as he tried to guess if the young boy standing in front of him was his son. The real one, not the one possessed y an old spirit fed by vengeance and chaos.

My brother and I nodded our heads, letting him know that it was him. The older Stilisnki didn't hesitate to drop his coat to the floor, almost tripping with his chair as he ran to his son. They both engulfed each other, breezing in. They swayed from side to side, clutching each other.

"Hey dad," Stiles's voice was deeper from all the crazy things that have been going on. But we could discern the happiness he felt to be back.

When they both parted, Noah glanced at my brother once again. "Is it over?"

I sighed. "Not yet."

We explained what had happened during the last hours. Especially, highlighting the fact that Lydia was missing. She was probably taken by Void. Mr Stilinski had informed us that they had an APB out on Lydia's car. Every unit on the road was looking for her. However, there was nothing more we could do. Void had taken Lydia for a reason. "Okay. What would a Nogitsune need with a Banshee?"

"I don't know," Stiles shook his head as he rested his butt on his father¡s desk. "Lydia's pretty good at finding dead bodies. Maybe he needs to find a body?"

"Scott," Noah glanced at my brother once again. "You know more about this than all of us." I gripped Scott's hand, knowing he felt pressured by all the things we were going through. "You said you got the whole story from Noshiko?"

"I was there too," I added, nodding my head. "But that happened during World War II. Like 70 years ago."

"Wait. What did you say?" Stiles asked while his gaze was lost.

"Noshiko told us about the internment camp..." My brother answered.

"No, before that." His eyes squinted as he looked at his father. "You said, the whole story." Scott and I nodded our head as he seemed to recall something. "There's a girl at Eichen House. Her name's Meredith. I think she might be able to help."

Sheriff had informed Parrish to call Eichen House. As soon as he did, Parrish entered Noah's office where we were waiting. "Sheriff, Meredith Walker."

"She's still there?"

"Yeah, but they moved her to the Closed Unit."

"Why?" The hazel-eyed boy asked.

"They said behavioural issues."

"What issues?"

"She wouldn't stop screaming." Both boys glanced at me as I bit my lower lip.

I hummed to myself as I sat on a chair. My phone rested on top of the table as I scrolled down through pictures, trying to distract myself. However, Stiles who had been sleeping got up from the couch as if he couldn't breathe.

I ran to him, grabbing his arms to steady him. "You okay?" I heard my brother asking what happened, but I ignored him as I was focused on Stiles.

"What happened? How long was I out?" His breathing was laboured.

"Just a couple of hours." My brother replied. "You should sit down."

He shook his head. "Where's my Dad?" He started blinking faster.

"He's at Eichen House, questioning everyone. Looking for Meredith." I replied, caressing my thumb on the palm of his hand. I glanced back at my brother. "We promised him we wouldn't let you out of our sight."

"Okay," He started playing with my fingers. "What about the others?"

"Allison, Isaac, the Twins, they're all looking for Lydia."

"It's starting to feel like we're waiting for a ransom call."

"We'll find her." Stiles let my hands go as he scratched his arms, grabbing his jacket that had been resting on the couch. "You all right?"

"Yeah. I don't know why, I just can't seem to get warm." His lower lip trembled as his skin became paler.

"Maybe you should sit down. Take it easy." Scott's hand touched Stiles's one, his veins becoming black. "You're in pain." I furrowed my eyebrows.

"It's not that bad. Just more like a dull ache.

"Where?"

"Sort of everywhere."

"Stiles, you're freezing," I added, worried as my hands grazed his skin while he sat on the couch.

My brother sighed, sitting down next to him. "Tell me the truth. How much does it really hurt?" He was interrupted as his phone vibrated inside one of the pockets of his jeans. "It's Kira."

And Kira had news for us, not really sure if they were good or bad. But Meredith was in class. However, when we arrived at school, the people from the asylum had been called and they tried to get Meredith. Surprisingly enough, Coach helped us. Therefore, Meredith was in Stiles's jeep with us now.

"Okay, where is Lydia?"

"Who's Lydia?" We sighed, frustrated. Then, she glanced at me. "Woah," There was a big smile on her face as she tried to get a closer look at mine. "You are a siren."

"H-How do you-."

"My aunt was a siren." She smiled. "I thought you guys were extinct." She seemed to giggle for a couple of seconds as she glanced at Stiles. "Is she the girl you are in love with? Y/N?" I shyly looked at the boy sitting next to me. "He would talk about you in his sleep sometimes."

"We didn't share a ro-."

"I have good hearing."

As soon as Scott opened the door to our house we were met with Rafe McCall. "What are you doing here?" My brother asked as our sperm-donor was standing in front of Isaac.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Free period. We're doing group study." Stiles intervened.

Rafe's eyes rested on the girl. "Who's she?"

"She's my girlfriend." Stiles's blabbed as he placed his arm on her shoulders. My eyes widened as I glanced at him.

"You're not my type." I chuckled as she tried to get away from the hazel-eyed boy who I was going to kill for making such a stupid excuse.

"Well, obviously we have a lot to talk about." He looked at me as I crossed my arms and smirked. You are dead, Stiles. "We should maybe take this upstairs."

"Well, for what I know, you are dating Y/N." He crossed his arms too, which made me uncross mine as I could see similarities between us.

"He was just joking," I added, pinching my boyfriend's arm. "Nice excuse," I whispered to him.

"I've missed you and I can't think properly, that's why it was a bad one." He smiled back.

"You are not getting away from this one." I shook my head with a sheepishly smile on my face.

"He's my type." I snapped my head towards Isaac, who was laughing due to my banter with my boyfriend.

"Okay," I smirked. "Isaac, you can come too." I giggled as the curly-haired boy got up from the chair. "He is single, between." Isaac punched my arm playfully.

"Isaac and Stiles can go," Rafe spoke. "But I want Scott and Y/N here for a couple of minutes." I sighed.

"Hey, Dad, I'll explain all of this later," Scott begged as I stayed silent.

"I don't care that you're not in school. I know your grades are fine." He nodded his head. "Same goes for you, Y/N. All I want to do is talk."

"Now's really not a good time." I snapped.

Scott's voice was softer. "Dad, can't we do this tomorrow?

"That's actually something I've been saying for a long time. Come here." We followed him, standing in front of the stairs. However, he kneeled down. "You see this? This indent in the floor... that was from your head." I leant closer to my brother, not liking where this story seemed to go. "The night before I moved out your mother and I were fighting." Scott kneeled too. "You came out of your room. I grabbed you by the wrist. You pulled back." Rafe's eyes were teary. "And you fell." I gasped. This was what Stiles knew, right? "We watched you tumble down those stairs. You were out for probably 20 seconds. When you came to, you didn't remember a thing. Your mom told me to be out by the morning. That was the last time I ever had a drink." I felt like I shouldn't be listening to that conversation. "And that's why I left."

"I'm going to-." Before I could leave them alone, Rafe gently clutched my wrist.

"It was wrong, what I did with you was wrong on so many levels and I don't have any excuse." He sighed. "I truly am sorry even though I know that it's not enough for you, and will never be." His voice trembled. "I couldn't be with your mother anymore. She was crazy and she wasn't scared to throw a bottle at me every time she had one of her mood changes. And I know that it's more of a reason for you to think I am an asshole because-."

"Because even though you knew she was crazy, you left me there."

"Yeah," He nodded his head. "But I didn't know you were mine." I furrowed my eyebrows. "She was sleeping with multiple men, which I got to know after knowing she was pregnant. She said she believed you were another man's child." He sighed. "I know I did the same to Melissa," He glanced at Scott for a couple of seconds. "She said the other men were just some kind of revenge because I had another family and that it didn't matter to her. She was convinced we could start a family and that we could pretend you were my child."

"What?"

"When she went to jail...Well, before she did. She contacted me." His eyes were even wetter than before. "The judge was searching for your father to give him your custody in case he was in a better condition than your mother. She told him that I was the father, and I didn't want her to look like a liar. And I felt bad because I left you there with your mother, even if you weren't my child. So I said that I was your father and with my job, they didn't take the investigation further."

"So you aren't my-."

"I'm not sure if I'm honest." My eyes got teary. They got teary because I had gotten so attached to Scott that there wasn't a reality in my mind where he wasn't my big brother, even if it was just for a couple of months. "I always sent money. That's why your mom's friend could take care of you with the job she had." True, she was just a cashier that didn't get paid much. I never thought about all the things she bought and how we could afford them.

"So maybe," I tried to take a deep breath as I glanced at my brother. "So maybe Scott isn't my brother?" Rafe seemed surprised by my question, nodding his head. "Can we...Can we get one of those tests done? I want to know." He nodded his head.

It still wasn't an excuse. He was the one who decided to say he was my father. Even if he wasn't, he took that responsibility, and he should have acted like one.

I felt my brother's hand squeezing mine. "Okay, dad. Let me show you something." He moved to another part of the room, pulling me along while Rafe followed us. "See the edge of this window sill. When I got my first skateboard I slid right into it. Broke my collarbone." He wandered to another place, pointing at the object. "This used to be glass. Until I fell on top of it trying to catch a lacrosse ball from Stiles. I got three stitches on my cheek." He let my hand go to point at the place where he got the stitches. "This house is full of accidents." He shook his head. "The stairs? Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was worse. But I healed. I don't need your apology. So... See you at graduation. Or whenever you decide to show up again."

"Sco-." Before I could pronounce his name, he pulled me once again with him. We left Rafe McCall standing in the living room with a lost look on his face.

Isaac and Stiles were able to guess where Lydia was after talking to Meredith. Scott had phoned Allison, wanting her to meet us. Therefore, the four of us were now driving towards the place, hoping to meet the Argent girl there.

"All right, I'll say it." I glanced to my side as Issac coughed. "You look like you're dying. You're pale, thin and you look like you're getting worse. And we're all sitting here thinking it." He was right. I couldn't help but glance at the boy driving. He looked sick. He looked like he was dying. "When we find the other you, is he gonna look like he's getting better?

"What happens if he gets hurt?" My brother asked while glancing at his best friend.

"You mean if he dies, do I die?" He sighed, staring at the rearview mirror to look at me for a couple of seconds. "I don't care." My heart dropped. "Just so long as no else dies because of me." Before I could interrupt, he continued. "I remember everything I did, Scott. I remember pushing that sword into you. I remember twisting it." He shook his head. "I remember hitting your sister in the head and making her bleed because she was trying to help you. I remember both of your blood staining my hands."

"It wasn't you."

"Yeah, but I remember it." His voice cracked. "You guys gotta promise me. You can't let anyone else get hurt because of me."

"We can't promise that," I whispered. "We all know that being involved in all of this means that something could go wrong. But I'm not letting you get hurt neither, Stiles." Our eyes met again, and I discerned his quick blinking to hide the tears that invaded his eyes.

As soon as we arrived, Allison and Kira were already waiting there. We glanced at each other, noticing that we were scared. We never knew how a situation like this could end. "We've done this before, guys. A couple of weeks ago we were standing around just like this and we saved Malia, remember?" My brother tried to comfort us, even though he was terrified too. "That was a total stranger. This is Lydia."

"I'm here to save my best friend." Allison hurriedly added.

"I came to save mine." My brother glanced at the sick-looking boy whose hand was clutching mine.

"I'm here for both," I emphasized the last word, trying to hint that I would do whatever I could to bring Stiles back with me. An alive and free Stiles.

"I just didn't feel like doing any homework." I couldn't help but chuckle as Isaac answered.

Then, we entered the place, just to find Kira's mom standing there with a couple of those shadows or demons standing behind her. "Kira, turn around and go home. Take your friends with you."

I nodded at my brother and my boyfriend, giving them the signal to go find Lydia while we stayed where we had to.

"I can't." We walked closer to her mother, Allison preparing her arrows. "When I looked at the game I realized who I was actually playing. You."

The Argent girl raised her bow. "Call them off."

"You think you could take him alive?" Her gaze went to me. "You think you can save him?"

"What if we can?" I asked, stepping a little closer.

"I tried something like it 70 years ago. Your friend is gone."

"I told you before, ma'am." I gritted my teeth. "I'm not you and Stiles isn't Rhys. We might be able to save him." I chuckled. "Why are you so opposed to the idea of us trying to save him? Is it jealousy? Or rage because you couldn't save Rhys?"

"He is going, dear."

"Are you sure?" Kira stepped closer to me and her mother. "Or if Stiles doesn't have to die. Maybe Rhys didn't have to die either?"

Noshiko chuckled as the demons behind her prepared their swords. "I see I'm no longer the Fox now, Kira. You are. But the Nogitsune is still my demon to bury." Then, the figures behind her vanished and Kira's mom gasped, worrying us due to the fear, decorating her expression.

"What does that mean?" Isaac dared to speak up as we breathed heavily.

"It means there's been a change in ownership." We turned around as we heard another voice. One we knew too well. A couple of meters away, Void was standing with his hands joined together in front of him. The shadows behind his figure. "Now they belong to me."

That's when we saw ourselves in danger. The shadows ran to us with their swords prepared. Kira was using the katana to protect herself as grunts fell from her mouth. One against two.

Isaac was able to pull one of the shadows to the ground, flashing his eyes and teeth. His werewolf form was taking the lead, trying to scare off the adumbrations. However, he quickly got up from the one he had pushed to the ground as another one ran to him. Isaac used his nails to scratch his middle part, throwing him against a wall.

However, that one seemed not to be affected as he quickly raised his sword. Thankfully, Allison had shot one of her arrows, disarming the monster.

I gritted my teeth as tried to be as closer as possible to Isaac, defending each other's back and taking into account my lack of knowledge related to my supernatural abilities. However, I was glad after receiving some basic defence movements from Kira as I gripped one of the demons' sword tightly between my hands.

I panted as I hit one of those things with the sword, trying to push him as far away from me and Isaac as possible. "How do we stop them?" The curly-haired's voice resonated through the darkness as he glanced at Noshiko.

"You can't!"

He had been distracted, and even though his back was protected by me, his chest wasn't. One of them slashed his stomach and I saw the blood spurting everywhere.

"Isaac!" I gasped. However, when I tried to defend him from the shadow who had gashed his stomach, I received the same outcome as it slashed my knee. Nevertheless, I continued trying to protect Isaac and myself. But we still received some cuts. Especially the boy who was now kneeling on the floor.

I was kicked on the chest by one of the others, falling on my butt and wheezing as the air seemed to escape my lungs. Then, an arrow pierced the chest of that demon, saving Isaac from the last blow. The blow that could have killed him.

A light came out of his chest from where he had been hit by Allison, and then, he vanished into thin air.

I breathed calmly this time, turning around to glance at the Argent girl. I offered her a little smile as she was chuckling, relieved because she had saved Isaac and because the monster had vanished.

However, time seemed to slow down. It looked like a slow-motion that you could not stop. I screamed, I screamed her name trying to warn her because I wasn't strong enough to get up from the floor. I tried, I tried getting up while droplets of tears fell down my cheeks.

My knee begged me to lay back on the floor, but I couldn't. I couldn't lay down on the floor. And I couldn't save Allison as she was stabbed by another shadow. Right in the middle of her stomach. Her mouth was wide open. I heard a scream, Lydia. She knew what had happened.

I ran to her as she fell into my arms, glancing at me. "A-Allison," My eyes were teary as my trembling hands moved the locks of air out of her face. "Allison, w-we need to stop the blood." I started taking my jacket off, pressing it against her stomach. I glanced around as Void had disappeared and the shadows vanished. "We need to do something. CALL AN AMBULANCE!" I screamed out when I saw the others just looking at me. Accepting the Argent girl's fate.

"Well," She chuckled. "N-now you can't have my head on your w-wall." I chuckled as I continued crying. That's what I've told her. The flashback invaded my mind.

I nodded my head. “I’m going to slowly try and forgive you and your family for everything you’ve done to my brother and the people I love.” I swallowed. “But I swear to god, I will not hesitate to-.”

“To have my head on your wall.” She finished for me. I smirked, getting up, going back to my seat next to Stiles. “I’m sorry for the arrow.”

“Well, you know. Every time I look at it I will remember the badass bitch you can be.” I offered her a laugh, which she appreciated.

"B-but you have a reminder of m-me." No, I didn't want a reminder. I wanted her with us. I wanted Allison alive with us.

Before I could say anything, I heard someone falling on their knees next to me and Allison was taken from my arms. Now she was in the arms where she used to belong. Kira ran to her mother as Isaac was badly hurt, mouth wide open as he glanced at the girl he had fallen in love with.

I stayed there, next to them as my brother placed his hand on top of Allison's hand. "I-I can't take your pain." I gulped as I touched his elbow. He glanced at me to later glance at Allison after I made a gesture.

Allison Argent's eyes were wide open as she glanced at the sky, and her chest wasn't raising up and down anymore. "It's because it doesn't hurt." Her voice cracked.

"No."

She nodded her head. "It's okay." She cried. "It's okay." My brother's face was the perfect expression of pain. A pain that couldn't be described. "It's perfect. I'm in the arms of my first love. The first person I ever loved. The person I'll always love." My brother held her closer as he sobbed. "I love you. Scott. Scott McCall."

"Don't, please, don't. Allison don't, please."

"You have to tell my dad. And you have to tell my dad. Tell him." She begged as her mouth filled with her own blood. Her last puffs of air left her body as she slowly closed her eyes. As we mourned the death of a friend, a sister and a first love.

I sobbed, placing my hand on my mouth to not make any noise. My head rested on my brother's shoulder, trying to give him as much comfort as I could, which wasn't much because...

Allison Argent was dead.

But of course, our pain didn't end there. We had to testify about Allison's death, which seemed impossible as we didn't know what to say without looking crazy.

Stiles was still looking as pale as ever. Dark circles under his eyes as if he was dying. Stiles was dying and I couldn't help but have negative thinking. I couldn't lose him. And even worse, Void was there. Void was somewhere. Perhaps hurting someone or feeding himself with chaos and agony.

Now, we were standing in front of the BHHS building. Kira and Scott were ready to open the doors when Stiles stopped them. "Scott, hold on." Lydia and I were helping him stand up. "I know what you're all thinking. If this works, it might kill me, too. But even if it does, you have to go through with it. Stick with the plan, okay?"

"The plan is to save you," I added, glancing up at him.

"That's the plan I'm going with." My brother replied.

Opening the doors, we were met with a white place filled with snow. It looked like some type of garden with Japanese decorations and it was decorated with a blanket of snow. The doors closed behind us and I shuffled closer to Stiles as I shivered.

We turned around again as we heard footsteps. Rhys. The Nogitsune was standing there. But as quickly as he could, he got closer to us, ignoring Kira who prepared her sword.

"Like I promised, Stiles." His voice started to sound like a broken recording. "We're going to kill all of them. One by one." Onis appeared, surrounding us.

"What the hell is this? Where are we?" Scott asked as I glanced around.

"Between life and death," Nogitsune answered.

"Bardo."

"But there are no peaceful deities here, Lydia." He mocked us. "You're dying, Stiles. And now everyone you care about is dying, too." He started circling us.

"What?" The boy next to me gulped. "What do you mean?"

"I've captured almost all of the territories on the board, Stiles. The hospital. The sheriff's station." I rested my hand on top of Stiles's shoulder as his body shuffled closer to me unconsciously. "And now the animal clinic." He chuckled. "Do you know the ritual of seppuku, Stiles?"

"No, and I don't want to." As Nogitsune got closer to us, Stiles's body moved in front of me.

"When a samurai disembowels himself with his own sword to maintain his honour, but that's not the cut that kills him. The killing stroke is made by his kaishakunin, who beheads the samurai with his own katana." The snow fell on top of our heads as Stiles brought me even closer to his body. His right hand resting on my waist. "Scott...Scott is your kaishakunin. I'm going to make your best friend kill you, Stiles. And you're going to let him. Because just like you, they're all going to die. Everyone touched by an Oni's blade. Unless Scott kills you first." All of us had teary eyes, but not as much as Stiles.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" I clutched Stiles closer to me as I didn't want him to get closer to the monster standing in front of us.

"To win the game."

Stiles grabbed Lydia and me, getting us in a safe place while Scott and Kira fought the Onis. However, one of the Onis disarmed Kira. And I was shocked when Stiles grabbed the sword, pointing it at himself. Ready to die for our safety.

"Stiles," I whispered.

"What if it saves you? What if it saves all of you?" I saw the point of the blade against his clothed stomach, shock filling my body.

"What if it's just another trick?" Lydia asked. She was scared. We all were.

"No more tricks, Lydia. End it, Scott. Let your friend fall on his own sword. Do for him what he cannot do for himself. Do it, Scott." My body shook but also the body of Stiles. "Be his kaishakunin. Give up the game. You have no moves left."

Stiles seemed to realize something as he stopped pointing the sword to himself. "I do." He passed the object to Kira. "A divine move." His arms brought me closer to his body once again. "Stop fighting them." His voice was loud. "It's an illusion. You have to stop fighting them. It looks real and it feels real, but Scott, you gotta trust me, it's an illusion."

We started walking towards Nogitsune and the Onis. One of them raised his sword, cutting my brother's chest, but we continued walking, ignoring the damage done. My brother and Kira received the most pain as Stiles kept me and Lydia closer to his body, trying to avoid any pain towards us. Then, my brother pushed Nogitsune against the doors we had entered from before. The next thing we knew, we were back at school.

There was no blood, no pain. "We're okay. We're..." Before my brother could finish his sentence, he was pushed against the lockers by Void. Kira was brutally hit as she fell unconscious to the floor. "This was my game." His voice was raspy. "You think you can beat me at my game?" His gaze was mostly directed to Stiles.

"Divine move." I placed Lydia behind me as Stiles put me behind him. "Divine move." Void rapidly got closer to us as we stepped back as quickly. "You think you have any moves at all? You can kill the Oni. But me? Me? I'm A THOUSAND YEARS OLD. YOU CAN'T KILL ME!"

"But we can change you," I replied as he stopped his movements, glancing at me.

"You forgot about the scroll," Stiles added as his body shuffled next to mine.

"The Shugendo scroll."

"Change the host." Void whispered.

"You can't be a fox and a wolf." Stiles lightly smirked as my brother appeared from behind, biting his forearm as Void screamed out of rage and agony. Then, Kira pierced his chest from behind with the sword.

Void fell to the ground, his mouth opened as a fly left from deep inside his body. Then, Isaac appeared, catching the fly, avoiding the insect to go inside someone else. Void continued convulsing, and then he just dissolved.

Stiles's body got far from mine and as I glanced to my side I saw that he had passed out. Nevertheless, when he finally opened his eyes we couldn't help but sigh in relief.

"Oh, God, I fainted, didn't I?" We all chuckled. Stiles Stilinski was back. "We're alive. We all alive?"

My brother answered even though I knew he wanted to say that not all. "Yeah. We're okay."

"I-Is it over?" I was scared of asking such a question. But I needed to hear an answer. I needed to be sure that I could close my eyes without expecting blood covering my hands as soon as I would have opened them.

They all glanced at each other, nodding.

"Here you go." Mr Stilinski placed some blankets on top of Stiles's bed. "It's going to be a cold night so I will leave some blankets here in case you both get cold at night." He walked closer to his son, giving him a small hug. "Good night." Then, he stepped closer to me, kissing my forehead.

"Thank you for letting me stay here tonight." I shyly whispered as he embraced me.

"Ugh, stop thanking me. You are part of this family. Whatever you need, just tell us." He closed Stiles's bedroom door behind himself when he left.

"Let's get into bed," Stiles whispered as he let me get in the bed first, knowing that I preferred sleeping to the closest place to the wall, feeling protected by the wall and his body. "Want to watch a film?" We both were sitting on his bed together. I nodded my head. "Oh, there's a Robin Hood film..." He trailed off as he glanced at my face. "Yeah, maybe not now." He changed the channel again. "Oh, The Mummy." He shook his head. "We better turn this off." I chuckled, nodding my head.

I sighed, deciding to lay on my left side and examining his face. He laid in the same position as our legs slowly intertwined under the blankets. My hand slowly trailed up, resting on his cheek. "I was so scared of losing you." I chuckled, shaking my head. "And I'm sure you were in a worse position than me. Are you okay?" My thumb rubbing the bone of his cheek.

He offered me a tiny smile. "I will be. And I feel better now that I'm here with you." His voice came out in a whisper. "Did he...Void, you know?"

"No," I continued rubbing his cheek. "He didn't touch me at all."

He sighed in relief. "He was infatuated by you." He bit his lower lip. "Like I had no control over my body but I could see and hear as if I was in control. But he was the one controlling my own body. Whenever you were there he would say something...about you."

"It's okay." I tried to calm him down. "I'm here, Stiles. And most importantly, you are here too." I moved closer to his body as he did the same. "Stiles," My voice shook as our lips grazed each other. "I want you."

His eyes widened. "I've never-."

"I know," I nodded feeling flustered. "Me neither. And I'm scared to do it so soon but I want to get closer." I closed my eyes, feeling even more embarrassed than before. "I'm sorry, forget what I said. I just-."

"You want to build it up? Like, go slowly until we, Uhm, yeah?" I nodded my head, glad he understood but flustered for having such an idea in my head. "So hypothetically talking what would you want to do?" His hips swayed closer to mine, making me gulp.

"M-Maybe touch, uhm." I giggled due to the embarrassment I was feeling. "Touch each other?" I whispered, unsure of how he would feel about my idea.

I heard him gulping as he quickly nodded his head. I sighed in relief. "Yeah, yeah, okay, now?" I shrugged my head, nodding. "How do we...do it?"

I gathered a little courage as the hand that was resting on his cheek trailed down. My fingers grazed his covered chest until they stopped right at the start of his pyjama pants. I glanced at him, asking for permission as he nodded his head. My fingers slowly slipped inside his pants and boxers. My body shook in anticipation as I continued going lower. He was trimmed, I could feel it.

He wasn't hard yet. But as soon as my fingers freed him from his boxers, he got hard on my hand. "Shit, your hands are freezing." He pulled his pants and boxers a little further so it wouldn't bother us.

"I'm so sorry." Before I could take my hand away from his member, he wrapped his hand around mine.

"It does feel good." I gulped, nodding my head. His gaze was fixed on me as I started moving my hand up and down at a slow pace. "Use your thumb for the tip, press on it." I did as he instructed, examining how his face transformed into an open-mouth expression of pleasure. "Y-yeah, just like that."

My hand decided to go faster, gripping his shaft tightly as my thumb didn't forget to press against his tip. Stiles closed his eyes, placing his left arm on top of his face as he tried to drown his moans. His hips seemed to lose control as they moved against my hand, trying to go quicker.

"Stiles," My other hand decided to grab his testicles, massaging them. He finally moaned aloud, taking his arm off his face to glance at me. His cheeks were red and his forehead was covered by sweat. "I want to see your face and hear you." My shy voice didn't correlate with my actions.

"Agh, I'm so embarrassed." His hips stopped moving and his hand grabbed my wrist to stop my actions.

"W-Why?"

"I-It's the first time someone touches me like that." He blushed. "I normally do this one my own, you know. Because I am a young boy who is horny constan-."

"Stiles." I laughed.

"I've never been touched by another person like this and I have really strong feelings for you and I've been imagining this for a long time and-." I sent him a confused look. "If you continue I'm going to cum already."

"It's okay," I whispered, freeing my hand from his grasp. My hand started moving up and down again as my other hand played with his sack. "Cum, Stiles." My lips grazed his, kissing him deeply. His left hand gripped my side, clutching it strongly as his hips moved faster, fucking himself on my hand. "Let it go, Stiles. Don't be scared to explode. Do it." He groaned against my lips. I glanced down at his hips bucked against my hand until my hand got wet as a trail of cum fell down my hand.

He moaned, which made my pulse go lower than the place where it should be. He rode his high as cum continued dripping down his tip to my hand. "I-I forgot." He gasped. "I cum a lot." I nodded, surprised. "Now you." He took his pants off, cleaning using to clean my hand. Then, he placed his boxers back on.

"It's okay, Stiles."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "I want you to get a release too." He coughed. "And I want to t-touch you." He gulped as his fingers didn't waste time, lowering my pants down and playing with the hem of my panties.

"Ugh," I grumbled, covering my face. "I'm so embarrassed." I was sure I looked as flustered as I felt.

"It's alright. If you want me to do it-." I nodded my head, signalling that I wanted it even though I was all flushed. "Alright." His fingers lowered down. The tips of his finger were a little cold, but the contrast against my hot core was amazing. His other hand lowered my panties as the hand touching my clit, started circling it, slowly. "C-Can you guide me?"

"Just play with it, add pressure sometimes." I sighed as two of his fingers circled it slowly, applying pressure on it sometimes. I gasped when his two fingers started going down, recollecting some of the juices between my lips as he trailed up to add pressure all over again.

"Want it faster?" He whispered as we had totally forgotten his dad was at home. I ground myself against his hand as he cupped my heat, letting me grind on him. "Does it feel good?" He glanced at my hand, which was clutching his arm as I shuffled closer to him so I could rub myself against his hand.

"Wait," I gasped. I forced him to lay down on his back as I sat on top of him.

"W-What are you-." He moaned as I rubbed my core against his clothed dick. "O-okay, that feels, uhh." His hands gripped my waist as he helped me grind against his. My pace quickly fastened with the help of his hands guiding me. "I'm going to, again."

I nodded my head, going faster and trying to contain my moans as low as possible. "Me too." My hands were pressed against his chest as I rode to both of our highs, our faces getting closer, moaning in each other's mouths.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker - @brithedemonspawn - @weirdowithnobeardo - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @azayamari - @poguestyle17 - @bibliophilewednesday - @10minutesofscreentime - @momentitodebruh - @drikawinchester - @perrytheplatypus11 - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @linkpk88 - @royalreadery - @sweetest-serpent01 - @teenwaywardasgardian - @sadcupofcoffee - @maliyamay - @seninjakitey - @tairisceana - @thegirlwhoimagined - @mackingjj - @daphnen21 - @malfoystilinskii05 - @caitsymichelle13 -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

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Downfall of a Dark Avenger Part 1: El Sombra

Having finished reading Al Ewing’s El Sombra trilogy and having had enough time to digest it, I’d like to talk about the trajectory of it’s titular protagonist, the character and series’s relationship with it’s influences. Relating to The Shadow and Zorro and general pulp archetypes, and also the way it incorporates Astro Boy’s Pluto into the mix. My interest in Pluto’s imagery led to me reading Naoki Urasawa’s Pluto, and I will go into the correlation between all of these seemingly random sources coming together.

But before we can talk about what El Sombra becomes, we must talk about what he is, and where he starts.

The very first chapter of El Sombra is dedicated to establishing the happy scenery of the village of Pasito, as a big wedding is drawing the entire town together, eager to see one of it’s greatest heroes marry his sweetheart. We get a great description of said hero Heraclio...and then the reveal that the character we’re gonna be following for the rest of the story is not Heraclio, but instead his loser brother Djego, a morose, slow-witted poet largely considered a joke by the village, currently being rejected and beaten by the love of his life, which is just about the 2nd worst thing that happens to him that day, followed by winged Nazis storming the village, murdering scores of men, women and children, killing Djego’s brother as he watches helplessly, and then said brother cursing Djego with his dying breath as Djego just barely escapes into the desert, with nothing but a sword and a wedding sash in hand. Djego is probably the last man in the village anyone could have possibly expected to become a hero (which may be part of why he ended the way he did).

Cut to 9 years later, Pasito has been transformed into a mechanized nightmare, a clockwork city of endless toiling and suffering ruled by Nazis, freely enacting their every dark whim on it’s population, revealed to be little more than just a large-scale experiment conducted by the Nazis to increase workforce enough to match Britain’s. After two agonizing chapters with little more than Nazi atrocities to occupy our time, we get our first look at the intrepid hero, Djego. And how does El Sombra introduce himself? Through laughter.

The laughter. Rich and strong, echoing around the square, freezing the milling workers in their tracks. An awful laugh - a terrible laugh of hope and joy and strength! A sound that had not been heard in the clockwork-town for nine years.

as the sound of laughter echoed across the town, the men shuddered and glanced at each other briefly, as though hearing the first sounds of an approaching storm.

The smile on the creature's face was powerful and confident and utterly unafraid. To Alexis, it seemed like the smile the devil might have in the deepest pits of Hell.

For the most part, El Sombra is heavily modeled after Zorro. He’s got Zorro’s swashbuckling fighting style, wields primarily a sword, his main outfit is styled partially after Douglas Fairbanks’s costume, he can be quite friendly and charming and peppers an “amigo” at every sentence. His name is the same as Diego’s minus one letter, his main enemies specifically consist of tyrants who rule over his town, and his mission of vengeance gradually turns him into a rebellious, inspirational figure for the city he strives to liberate. El Sombra is Zorro vs Nazis and it delivers on that.

But nothing is ever quite as it seems in this trilogy, and the first installment of El Sombra goes to great lenghts to establish that El Sombra is a long, long way from being the pure and heroic fantasy that Zorro embodies. He doesn’t live in a world where problems can be solved with guile, luck, good swordplay and a good smile. He doesn’t live in a world where he can show up, humble imperialists and get the people behind him. He lives in a world where the only recourse available to him, to even stand a chance, was nine years of an extended fugue state trip through the desert, ingesting hallucinogens, having his soul shattered and then repaired into something much, much darker. And it’s in those moments that we start to see why exactly his name is El Sombra.

There was something in his voice as cold and unyielding as a gravestone.

"Djego is dead, Father Santiago. He was useless and stupid and pathetic. And he died and left good flesh behind. So I took his place." The eyes behind the mask met Santiago's then, and the priest breathed in sharply. There was nothing of Djego in them. There was nothing human in them.

Something bigger had lodged there, something stronger and faster than a man, something with a laugh that could shake mountains and a spirit like hot iron and fire. Something better.

"I am his shadow. El Sombra."

Atop of his inhuman speed and agility and skill at combat and murder, Djego repeteadly demonstrates skills and traits that, not only did he not have prior, but he couldn’t have picked simply in his desert sojourn. He knows how to apply advanced first aid, he speaks German, in Gods of Manhattan he is able to get the drop on Blood-Spider with a textbook Shadow hypnotic trick, and for all of those, the only explanation he gives is a shrug and “I picked it up somewhere”. Djego had the same trip to the unknown that defined The Shadow and so many other pulp heroes, except Ewing never provides any explanation for El Sombra’s advanced skills other than what the character says. Because there is no explanation. El Sombra is bigger than that.

El Sombra has to be, because a mere man with training and skills and strength and inspirational heroism isn’t going to cut it against what he’s up to. His brother had all of those things, and he died in the first chapter. Like The Shadow, El Sombra has warped himself to address calamity upon mankind, and morphed into something bigger and darker than just another vigilante.

In that moment, El Sombra knew himself to be no longer a man. He was, instead, what the ticking clock had made of him. He was a monster.

In fact, with the devil imagery Ewing grants upon El Sombra at points, and the reocurring “itch in the back of the skull” prelude to crucial moments, you can pinpoint exactly the points where El Sombra’s character traits would later manifest in Immortal Hulk, with Ewing’s reinvention of the Hulk plumbing the darkest possible alternatives for said character by digging into the greater horror roots of the character. This will be more relevant when we get to Pluto though.

But to put it plainly, Djego may be Zorro in every aspect at his surface. He may desperately strive to be Zorro, and it may be his Zorro traits that allow him to truly save Pasito. But Djego is not Zorro. He is El Sombra, as illustrated most in the following sequence. The moment where he pulls the most Shadow-esque destruction of a Nazi ever since The Shadow convinced a Nazi general to gut himself with his own sword.

The chained man began to laugh. Softly at first, then louder, the sound rolling through the quiet, cold room like the skeletons of winter leaves in a chill and bitter wind. It was not a laugh of joy, or of hope, or of strength, or of anything associated with sunlight and clean air. It was a laugh that belonged in these dank and fetid conditions, a snide chuckle, a sneering, contemptuous snicker. A laugh like a thousand beetles marching across a sheet of glass.

It was a sound that would have been sickeningly familiar to anyone who had once been a guest of the Palace Of Beautiful Thoughts. The old man started back, looking at the features of his chained captive, breathing in sharply as the handsome face of the terrorist became foreign and strange, warped by the noise emanating from it. He recognised the sound too, recognised the dry, hollow chuckle. And it chilled him.

The chained man turned his head, as though on aged bones, and smiled, a dry and sinister grin. And then he spoke. And the voice that came from his throat did not belong to El Sombra at all.

The chained man spoke with Master Minus' voice.

The chained man's smile froze him in his tracks. It promised terrible cruelty, a mephistophilean love of manipulation, and the eyes sparkled with fire from the depths of Hell itself. The old man sucked in another breath scented with sickly yellow and looked desperately away, to find himself staring once again at the mirror, at the face that was surely not his own...

The old man, who suddenly felt neither old nor a man, raised his hands, fingertips touching the aged, wrinkled face with the unfamiliar eyes. Could he fool himself that his fingertips travelled across soft, worn flesh, lined with years of service? Or was he feeling sterile plastic, soft, loose latex? He shuddered, the motion travelling up his spine, his hands shivering and twitching as he tugged ...

"Take off the mask."

... and the old, wrinkled, false face was torn away, coming off in long strips, pulled away bit by bit to reveal another face underneath. His eyes were wide, unblinking, unable to close as he stared at the face underneath, the face that had been there all the time.

Behind him, the thin beetle-voice spoke once more.

And this is what it said:

"APRIL FOOL! Quién es el hombre? Quién es el hombre? I'm the hombre! I'm the hombre! Now all I need are some pants."

El Sombra grinned down from the vertical rack at Master Minus, slumped on his knees in front of the blood spattered mirror, staring without eyelids at the remains of his face. He had succeeded in tearing all of the flesh from it, and all that remained were a few scraps of muscle clinging to a crimson, bloodstained skull, with two grotesque eyeballs gazing mercilessly at their own reflection. El Sombra smiled and did the voice, again while he made another attempt to work his left hand free of the shackle that held it in place.

"Creatures of the night... what music... they make... I vant to suck your blooood... yeah, you keep looking, amigo. Intense shame boosted by mind-warping drugs, hey? That's very original, I wouldn't know what that's like at all... ah, these bastard cuffs!" He was babbling, a result of the endorphin rush from the intense pain and the thrill of victory.

The yellow mist coursing through his veins - the mist Master Minus relied on so heavily - had been counterbalanced by the Trichocereus Validus already in his system, the desert cactus that had destroyed and rebuilt his mind. But while El Sombra was in a stronger position than the torturer realised, Master Minus was weaker than he knew, far too used to the easy victories the mist brought him, not realising that his own exposure to it made him ripe for psychological attack. The old man had spent years claiming that he was immune to the yellow mist, but nobody had ever been in a position to test that claim - until now.

In the end, El Sombra is able to drive the Nazis out of Pasito, and he’s succeded in ultimately inspiring the population to rally against them, eventually winning not because of said darkness granting him power, but by turning said darkness into a tool of good. The true victories of El Sombra are not in the violence, but in selfless heroism, in actions big and small. And in the end, He’s given even the opportunity of a happy ending, to settle down in the town he’s wanted so long to rescue. And if this were the story of Djego, the poet turned hero of his hometown, that’s where it would end.

But this is not Djego’s story. It’s the story of a man who’s destroyed himself to be rebuilt as an avenging force of nature. Someone who’s subsumed as much of his humanity as he could, who now can see and done things much beyond the scope of ordinary man, and now must pay the price of said terrible gifts. Who will pay much, much bigger prices for them in the future. It’s the story of El Sombra, and it’s only just begun:

It was too bad about Djego. El Sombra regretted little, but he regretted denying Djego that one small chance at happiness. But it couldn't be helped.

Until Adolf Hitler was dead, El Sombra could never rest

The man walked west, towards the sinking sun.

#replies tag #pulp heroes #al ewing #el sombra #the shadow

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destieltropecollection · 5 years ago

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Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 11: Established Relationship

A Christmas Miracle | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: General Word Count: 1019 Main Tags/Warnings: fluff; holiday fic Summary: A day to be marked: when Dean Winchester finally says "I love you".

Is there a reason you're naked in my bed? | @casseythebee

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1085 Main Tags/Warnings: kissing, nakedness, mentions of violence, blood, language Summary: the boys arrive back to the bunker after a hunt. With a bit of adrenaline still coursing through them they have a little fun, that gets a bit interrupted

Sick Day | @mrshays28-blog

Rating: General Word Count: 1093 Main Tags/Warnings: Established Relationship, Husbands, Castiel Has A Cold, Dean Takes Care of Castiel, Dean Gets A Cold, Domestic Fluff Summary: Dean and Castiel spend a quiet evening together just as Castiel’s starting to recover from a cold. Dedicated to anyone who’s gotten sick because their S.O. is also sick.

Ash | @deansrightfulangerissue

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1106 Main Tags/Warnings: Housefire, Canon Universe, Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: Dean's shoulders tremble as they watch the flames devour everything he and Cas have built together.

Proposal Gone... Right? | @fangirlingtodeath513

Rating: General Word Count: 1194 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester,Dean Winchester,Castiel (Supernatural),Marriage Proposal,Fluff,Domestic Fluff,Romance Summary: Dean's been planning this proposal for a long time, but on the day he's actually supposed to propose, nothing seems to go his way. Will he actually manage to propose without everything falling apart?

Faithfully | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: General Word Count: 1311 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Mild Angst, Happy Ending, deaf cas, Rockstar Dean Summary: Castiel is very unhappy with the fact that Dean is working on Valentine’s Day. But maybe he can be forgiven.

You look so sexy when you’re ignoring me. | @casseythebee

Rating: General Word Count: 1415 Main Tags/Warnings: language Summary: After Castiel catches Dean flirting with a, quite frankly gorgeous, girl at a bar he tries to give him the silent treatment, for the first time.

Just The Way You Are | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: General Word Count: 1555 Main Tags/Warnings: self esteem issues, body image issues, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: Coming back home to only silence is never good in Dean's vision; finding Cas crying, all alone, makes it even worse.

Spit-Polish and Shine | @jemariel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1564 Main Tags/Warnings: PWP, voyeurism/exhibitionism, top!Cas, bottom!Dean, sex on the Impala Summary: You know how Dean Winchester doesn't wear shorts? Well. Sometimes he does. Unredeemed filthy porn on a car.

and let me correct it | @curioussubjects

Rating: Mature Word Count: 1584 Main Tags/Warnings: Coda, Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Fluff and Smut, Established Relationship, Getting Back Together, Feelings, Non-Penetrative Sex, Post-Episode: s15e09 The Trap Summary: They’re in the hallway about to part for the night when Dean makes a decision. He steps closer to Cas, slowly – careful since it’s been a while since they were last like this. Cas doesn’t back away, doesn’t add any distance between them, though he looks at Dean with curiosity, a trace of hope and a challenge in his eyes.

Not According To Plan | @peanutbutterjelly-pie

Rating: General Word Count: 1724 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Established Relationship Summary: A fire truck, a smoky kitchen and an unexpected surprise are awaiting Dean after coming back home from work.

Meeting Emma | @deansrightfulangerissue

Rating: General Word Count: 1952 Main Tags/Warnings: Mention of a Car Accident, Minor Injury to a Child, Hospital Setting, Alternate Universe, Dad!Dean Summary: Dean’s pacing the hospital corridor like some nervous expecting father. After all, that’s who he is right now. And the daughter he didn’t know he had will be here any moment.

An Angel Cake for an Ex-Angel | @cloverhighfive

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2411 Main Tags/Warnings: domestic fluff, romantic fluff Summary: Cas is depressed and Dean is looking to make him feel better by baking him an angel food cake (he fails a few times).

Kiss and Make Up | @fangirlingtodeath513

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2546 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester,Dean Winchester,Castiel,Smut,Fluff and Smut,Arguing,Jealousy,Angry Sex,make-up sex,Blow Jobs,Face-Fucking,Topping from the Bottom,Power Bottom,Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester,Power Bottom Castiel (Supernatural),Bottom Castiel (Supernatural),Top Dean Winchester,Barebacking,Naked Cuddling,Post-Coital Cuddling Summary: It's the same argument they've had a million times before; Dean's too jealous, especially when Castiel is already engaged to him. This time, though, Cas isn't going to let their argument get in the way of some hot make-up sex.

Home Alone | @kitmistry

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2740 Main Tags/Warnings: Underage, Highschool AU, Fluff and Humor Summary: ""Dean, shut up,"" Castiel cut him off, flush faced and gorgeous, and looking every bit done with Dean's complaints and every layer of clothes between them. He yanked Dean's shirt off, before lowering his head to suck and bite at the curve where neck met shoulder, and Dean's brain fizzled out. He couldn't think of much else but fingers undoing his belt, and the tan skin he uncovered when he managed to wrestle Cas out of his shirt, and then there was a hand making its way inside his underwear, Cas kissing him to breathlessness. A car door slammed closed outside the house. Or the one where Dean is stuck in a bathroom.

The Secret Boyfriend | @fangirlingtodeath513

Rating: General Word Count: 2759 Main Tags/Warnings: Marriage, Weddings, Engagement, Engaged Castiel/Dean Winchester, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Wedding Jitters, Established Relationship, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester Summary: It all starts when Sam sends Dean and Cas separate invitations for his wedding. Then there's the fact that Mary asks if they'll mind sharing a bed. Dean's family can't still be in the dark about the fact that he and Cas are together... can they?

I've Never Wished for Anything more than You | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: General Word Count: 3054 Main Tags/Warnings: canon temporary character death; canon divergent 12x23 Summary: Dean has lost many people before—it’s practically a normal thing in his line of work—but none of them hurt as much as Castiel’s death. Especially because Dean is sure there’s no possible way for the angel to come back again. Or so he thought.

It was just a prank | @notfunnydean

Rating: General Word Count: 3795 Main Tags/Warnings: Prank Wars, April Fools' Day, Sam writes a love letter in Cas' name, hurt!Dean, playing with someone's feelings Summary: When Sam wakes up to discover that his mattress is soaking wet and his brother laughing loudly, he decides to take vengeance. Somehow, along the way, the prank war turns a bit too serious and Dean ends up really hurt.

Deep Blue Ocean | @suckerfordeansfreckles

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4046 Main Tags/Warnings: creature AU, cecaelia Cas, tentacles, first time, bottom Dean, established relationship Summary: Dean’s been in contact with supernatural creatures and people for all his life, as far as he can remember. He’s been working as a social worker for years now, specifying on cases that involve supernatural families. But he’s never really… been with a supernatural creature. He’s never been with anyone, ever, for more than a night, really — not the relationship type, that‘s what he used to excuse it on. But then he met Cas, on a case he worked with his brother, one in a cecaelia community in California. He met Cas, a cecaelia himself, and was kind of lost right away, because Cas was friendly, helpful, articulate and kind of brilliant. He’s also… gorgeous. When Dean first saw him, he kind of lost all breath and brainpower. They’ve been together for a few months now, but in all this time, they haven’t been intimate, haven’t really dared to go beyond their heavy make-out sessions. It’s especially hard again for Dean today, to not just devour Cas. To not just beg him for more.

On Display | @saltnhalo

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4053 Main Tags/Warnings: Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Praise Kink, Team Dean Winchester's Red Ass, Toys, Exhibitionism, Camboy Dean Winchester, Panties Summary: “I’ve invited a special guest for today,” Dean tells his viewers, glancing away from the camera as the bed dips beside him. Cas is all easy confidence as he settles onto the mattress next to Dean, and they share a quick smile before Dean turns his attention back to the viewers. “This is my boyfriend. For all of you who’ve wanted to see me get fucked by something other than my varied collection of toys…” He winks teasingly and pitches his voice a little deeper—teasing, sultry. “Today’s your lucky day.”

Texas Sun | @banshee1013

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4185 Main Tags/Warnings: Established Relationship, Sam Winchester Is Not Amused, Fluff, Canon Related, Honeymoon Summary: Ever since Cas and Dean tied the knot, they have been driving Sam *insane* with their inappropriately located and utterly spontaneous make-out suggestions. So when he finds them looking at filming locations for the movie ""Tombstone"" in Arizona, he suggests they take some time (and give him a break!) and road-trip it. Dean plans the route and takes the long way 'round through Texas - all the more time to spend with his angel, and show him some sights along the way.

Till Dawn | @kitmistry

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4431 Main Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Implied Suicide, Zombie Apocalypse AU, Fluff and Agst Summary: Before the world went to hell and the dead took over, Castiel and Dean couldn't have led more different lives. While Castiel was wasting away at an insurance company, Dean was busy chasing tornadoes around the country with his brother. They would have never met - they wouldn't have even known the other existed - if humanity hadn't crumbled like a card tower. Or the one where Dean helps Castiel escape.

Red | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: Mature Word Count: 5509 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, gore and blood, minor characters deaths, major character injury Summary: Dean didn't even think; he ran to Cas as fast as he could, screaming his name in pure terror, grabbing a handful of Cas's uniform to pull him into his lap. Cas's eyes were wide as he stared at Dean, hands grasping uselessly at the wound by his side. His uniform was soon more red than green and Dean could feel it seeping through his combat pants. The smell soon reached Dean's nose and he couldn't do anything more than just cradle Cas's head between his hands, sobs coming out of his mouth along with something he thought was please no, not him, not him. He never actually believed in prayer until that very moment but he had to start, because all he could do was pray to any and every gods that could be out there to not take Cas away from him, because Dean wouldn't be able to survive without him; Dean couldn’t even think of living without Cas. The amount of blood and the paleness that Cas's face was turning told Dean that none of the gods were actually hearing him, but he kept on praying because there was nothing more he could do; please, God, no, not Cas, please, don't take him away from me, I love him.

Interrupted | @a-mandala-rose

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5818 Main Tags/Warnings: Established Dean/Cas, Kid Fic Summary: “Cas, babe, I’m ready,” Dean pants, “please..” but the rest of his plea is cut off by a sudden wail from the baby monitor. Jack. “Goddammit!” Dean lets out a noise that is definitely not a whimper as Cas stills his hand. “It would be wrong to dose them all with Benadryl, right?” “Dean.” “Just checking.” Dean loves his and Cas' three children with his whole heart, but he desperately needs some alone time with his husband. OR The world's most relatable fanfic ever. (If you've ever had small children, that is.)

Long Exposure | @saltnhalo

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7581 Main Tags/Warnings: Model Dean Winchester, Photographer Charlie, Dom/sub Undertones, Dom Castiel, Sub Dean, Model Castiel, Top Castiel, Bottom Dean, Photography, Photographer Castiel, Nude Modeling, Exhibitionism Summary: Nude model wanted for erotic photoshoot. All photographs will only be submitted for assessment at approval of model. Males and females welcome – must be willing to take directions. All photography will be undertaken in a safe studio, and at the pace and comfort of the model. Payment of $100 for two hours of work. Tear off a number if interested.

Ignorance Is Bliss (Usually) | @pray4jensen

Rating: Mature Word Count: 8185 Main Tags/Warnings: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humour, Domestic Summary: Dean and Cas have a very public deathbed confession and officially become an item. And this would totally be thrilling—except Sam gets knocked out during the fight and misses the whole damn thing. Or the one where everybody except Sam knows and Sam thinks Dean’s sudden newfound celibacy is a witch’s curse.

Try A Little Stardust | @cuddlemonsterdean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 8594 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff and Angst, Hurt!Dean, Disabled!Dean, Happy Ending Summary: They soak for long enough that Dean actually falls into a light doze. It’s nice to just enjoy the water and the quiet for a while. It’s only been a handful of days, but Castiel has missed holding Dean like this and being close to him. His warmth and the beat of his heart are grounding, anchoring, and to Castiel it will always be special to know him this intimately.

A Different Kind of Filling | @gracefuldean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9239 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Established Relationship, Vampire Hunt, Diners, Porn with Plot, Porn with Feelings, Dom/Sub Undertones, Possessive Castiel, Food Play Summary: After taking care of a vampire nest near Bicknell, Utah, Dean and Castiel stop for a quick bite at one of the town’s diners, known for its (in)famous pickle pie. The unusual dessert is just the beginning of an afternoon Dean won’t ever forget, in which weird fillings and not so new feelings will make him realize that he truly has got it all.

After you and me, there is us | @castielscarma

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 13091 Main Tags/Warnings: Divorced Cas/Dean, past relationship, grief/mourning, child loss, getting back together Summary: Dean is forced to deal with his feelings and emotions about everything after meeting his ex-husband while having lunch.

Circles of Gold | @pomegranatedaffodil

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 17312 Main Tags/Warnings: Fantasy AU, Royalty AU, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers Summary: Seven years ago, Dean and Castiel chose each other over their families, their kingdoms, and their crowns. They have since come to terms with that decision, but the arrival of a messenger from Dean’s kingdom disturbs the peaceful life they’ve built together and forces them to make another choice, one that could have equally lasting consequences.

Fight or Flight | @ellis-park

Rating: Mature Word Count: 23186 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon universe, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort Summary: Just when Dean's started to feel good about his life — the end is not nigh, and his brother and his angel are safe in the bunker — Sam and Cas start keeping secrets from him. It's not a big deal, at least not at first. Everyone needs to play some things close to the chest. But when Dean finds out what they've been hiding, the bubble of carefree happiness he's carefully placed around his family finally bursts.

A Treason of Truths | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 28035 Main Tags/Warnings: fantasy au, faerie!cas, demon!dean, moc!dean, minor character deaths, major character injury, angst with a happy-ish ending, smut, bondage, orgasm denial, dom/sub dynamics, top!cas, bottom!dean Summary: When the time comes for The Seelie Court to confront the Dark Realm about their attempted conquests of surrounding kingdoms, Castiel asks that Dean accompany him on a diplomatic trip to The Royal City in the center of the Dark Realm. Dean is unable to refuse his lover, especially because he knows the danger the King will be in. But Dean has a dangerous secret that could cost him both his love and his life. Will their relationship survive the discovery of a sinister plot for the Fomóraigh to take over the Otherworld?

#destiel trope collection 2020 #destiel trope collection #Destiel #established relationship #day 11

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whereflowersbloom · 4 years ago

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Hypermarket adventure

When Tim Drake woke up that morning he had no idea he would have to buy a new coffee maker because the one they had was unusually broken. Damian Wayne. Tim massaged his temples, exhaustion sinking deep in his bones, and wonders how long it's been since he had more than four hours of sleep. Damian was responsible for this, one of his secret schemes to make him stop consuming caffeine. Tim was sure it was his fault, so the broken coffee maker refused to give him the fluid of life and he had lost it...and maybe Tim destroyed it with vicious vengeance. In his defense, he had been up for more than twenty hours, before taking a nap of two hours. Sleep later coffee first.

So naturally he announced to Alfred he would be making a quick trip to the store to get a new one, politely asked the British man if he required anything from the store. Alfred seemed to consider the offer for a solid minute before asking him if he could get some groceries and essentials on his way back home. Handing him a list. Before he walked out of the manor Dick volunteered affably to accompany him, convincing a grumpy Jason, who was comfortably sitting, reading a wrinkled newspaper to tag along. Jason surprisingly agreed, with the condition he was the one driving. Alfred rapidly suggested to take the demon spawn with them, he could use some frest air. Now things could only go downhill from this point. This piqued Steph’s interest, who casually commented she had nothing better to do. Soon they were on their way to the closest hypermarket.

Dick was there to make sure Damian didn’t behead anyone and get enough boxes of cereal he could hide before Alfred looked at him with disappointed eyes. There’s nothing worse in this world than Alfred’s disappointed eyes. The old man claimed ‘It’s not a proper meal or healthy if it contained high levels of sugar’, but the companies also tended to fill them with vitamins, calcium, iron and folic acid. Therefore it was a fortified food! It had everything he needed for a balanced meal in Dick’s opinion. The extra sugar was even good for him considering how many calories he burned.

“The sword stays in the car, Damian.” Dick commanded, taking away the blade from twelves earth-old before he sets a foot out of the automobile, which was responded by a low ‘TT’.

“Did we really have to bring shortstack?” Jason complained, voice etched with irritation, index finger pointing at Damian.

“As if I would agree to lower my nutritional standards because you fools failed to purchase the provisions Pennyworth demanded which is why I have it in my power.” Damian logically explained, grinding his teeth and waving the list at Jason. Tim rolled his eyes, focus on the reward, coffee, he mentally told himself.

“Don’t stab anyone.” Dick ordered with authority.

“I make no promises, Grayson.” Damian muttered dryly crossing his arms over his chest.

Damian cannot comprehend why would Pennyworth think he was needed to carry out such a simple task, he supposed if his siblings lacked the basic function acquire the list of edibles Alfred gave them and simultaneously behave in public, then he could supervise them. He was already here, nothing to do about it.

“Did anyone asked Cass if she needed anything?” Dick questioned them, clear blue eyes looking at them expectantly. Cass was probably still in her bedroom resting, after staying up with him analyzing some cases.

“Oh how thoughtful of you. You weren’t that nice to me, not even after I died.” Jason commented, his voice dripping with sarcasm and bitterness.

“Jay, you gotta stop bringing it up.” Dick reasoned as he placed a hand upon Jason’s shoulder, offering a small apologetic smile.

For once, Damian was quiet, observing the older brothers bicker over such a insignificant matter. Stephanie stifled a snort at their immature antics. A muffled ‘crybaby’ escaped her mouth, but only Tim, standing next to her was able to hear it.

It took everything Tim had not to roll his eyes and simply walk away. Why was he here with these troublemakers? Right. Coffee. The things he had to endure for a cup of black coffee.

“I texted Cass. She wants pop tarts.” Stephanie supplied, eye glued to the screen of her phone.

“If you get lost. I’m leaving you here, losers.” Jason threatened with narrowed eyes, a faint glow in his blue-green eyes. Five minutes after parking the car, the siblings marched inside the hypermarket. Tim sighed wearily, silent calculations running through his mind, how long it would take them to leave the store with the groceries

~~~

Jason Todd was ready to shoot Dick Grayson if only he had a gun between his hands. Why the fuck did he even agree to come with these lil shits? Clearly, he wasn’t in his right mind. He was doing this for Alfred and Jason could never say no to Alfred. It was an easy task: read the list of essentials Alfred wrote down, grab the items, deposit them inside the fucking cart and pay for them. Piece of cake. But here he was in the middle of dairy aisle, listening to Dick asking him all sort of stupid questions. His patience dangerously wearing thin.

“Why is milk five dollars a gallon?” Dick exclaimed with shock as he examined the dairy product’s label.

“Who cares? You’re rich, money shouldn’t be a problem, dickhead.” Jason replied annoyed, there goes ten minutes of his life, stuck in the dairy aisle with this enthusiastic fool. Where did Damian and Steph go? Dick had thrown several boxes of cereal inside the cart, including: Cheerios and Waffle crisps, the latter was Steph’s petition. Who in the bloody hell needed fifteen boxes of cereal? Wait a minute, is that coffee flakes? That one had to be Tim’s idea.

“How do you exactly milk an almond though?” Dick asked with furrowed Brows, concentrated on the product, as If he was trying to decipher a secret code.

The desperation and bewilderment in Dick’s voice made a Jason raise an eyebrow. He would kill for a quick smoke. Not like he was seriously considering smoking inside the store. He could wait a few more minutes.

“I’ll explain out to you when you finally become a functional adult.” Jason Breathed.

“Who wants bacon?” Stephanie came out of nowhere, asking with a juvenile glee in her eyes.

Hopefully I can finish this oneshot today 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

#batfamily #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #damian wayne #batbros #batman universe #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batkids #dc fandom #dc universe #batsiblings bonding

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tinyinvadr · 3 years ago

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I’m finally back with another story! This time around we get Gaz and Recap bonding, since Recap is with Dib most of the time, and I thought a change of pace would be interesting.

Don’t Face the Music

Recap’s POV

After what happened the last time, I didn’t think I’d ever be going back to skool again. But now that I’m officially abandoned, Dib doesn’t want to leave me home alone anymore. Honestly, I think I take care of myself pretty well, considering I’m only eight and was never really taught how to borrow correctly, but hey, I’ll put up with skool if it’ll help ease Dib’s nerves. Plus, skool means I get more potato chips! I LOVE THEM.

“I know last time didn’t go so well, but as long as we steer clear from Zim, everything should be fine. I’m prepared this time, and now that Gaz knows about you, she can help protect you.” Dib explained on the walk to skool.

“Now, Gaz, in case Zim crosses our path, I want you to… Gaz? Gaz, are you listening to me?”

I peeked out of Dib’s pocket to see what was going on, and Gaz was walking beside us, expressionless and ignoring Dib. He let out a sigh.

“Great, she’s got her new earbuds in. She can’t hear me. Ugh, I’m not that annoying, am I?”

She continued to ignore him, and soon, we arrived at skool.

The day started off exactly the same as my first day at skool. It was a long, boring period of Ms. Bitters droning on about how society is doomed.

“Ms. Bitters? I require use of your restroom. I fear it is quite urgent, and my internal organs may explode if I do not-“

“No one asked for the details, Zim. Just go!” The creepy teacher hissed.

I peeked out to get a look at Zim, a suspicious smirk on his face as he left class. I take it that’s not a good sign.

But that didn’t matter to me, because soon enough, the bell rang, and the lunch period began, meaning I was getting chips!

After we arrived in the cafeteria, things got weird. The last time I went to skool, it was really loud in there, but all the kids were quiet. They were so quiet that I was able to hear music playing over the loudspeaker. I didn’t even know those things played music, I thought it was just for making announcements.

Dib sat down at his usual table, and I patiently awaited my chips. But then I got bored of waiting after a few minutes and I peeked out to start nagging him.

Strangely, he wasn’t having a one-sided conversation with Gaz like last time, he was staring at the wall in complete silence. He wasn’t moving, either.

“Hey, Dibby, you good?” I asked. Nothing.

Frustrated, I climbed up his arm and onto his shoulder, which admittedly isn’t one of my smartest moves, but no one noticed me.

“HEY DIB!!!” I screamed directly into his ear. I’d done that to him before. He did not like it. But this time, he had no reaction.

From my elevated position on his shoulder, I could easily see the rest of the cafeteria. Just like Dib, all of the kids were completely silent and motionless.

Except for Gaz.

When I looked over at her, I noticed her head was bobbing up and down. That was probably a good sign.

I made my way across Dib’s shoulders and leapt onto her arm, latching onto her sleeve. She noticed me right away.

“Recap? What are you doing?” She asked, annoyed.

“Something weird’s going on! I think it’s this music!” I replied. She gave me a confused look. I pointed at Dib, and she shrugged.

“Eh, he’s finally being quiet. I don’t see what the problem is.”

At that, I climbed up to her shoulder and pulled one of her earbuds out. She immediately went into a daze like the others, so I put it back in.

After coming back to reality, she grabbed me, holding me just tight enough to where it was uncomfortable but not to where I was in serious pain.

“Don’t you EVER pull my earbuds out again! You just made me listen to mainstream pop music!”

“I think the music is controlling everyone somehow. Though, it doesn’t seem to be working on me.” I explained.

“There’s probably some kind of subliminal message in it that’s at a frequency you can’t hear. Why are they even playing this garbage music, anyway? The cafeteria’s never played music before.”

I remembered Zim’s suspicious trip to the bathroom right before lunch, and that was when it hit me that he wasn’t in the room.

“I bet it’s Zim!”

“You’ve been hanging around my brother too much.” Gaz replied.

“No, really! I mean, who else could be doing it? They’d either have to not be human or have super powerful earbuds like you.”

“True, true. Alright, let’s go take him down.” She stated, placing me back on her shoulder.

We headed to the main office, and there was Zim, with some alien-looking machine blasting music into a microphone.

“Eh? Gaz, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be a mindless zombie!”

“Your mind control doesn’t work on us, Zim!” I replied.

The moment he noticed me, he casually waved. “Oh, hey small human. Haven’t seen you in a while… WAIT! You were supposed to be my minion!”

He started to walk toward us, but Gaz grabbed him and started slamming him into the machine over and over until it stopped playing music.

After she finally stopped, Zim fell to the floor, out of breath.

“Vengeance… will be mine… just let me… let me… ugh, I’m in pain.”

When we got back to the cafeteria, Dib ran over.

“Gaz, have you seen Recap?” He asked in a whisper. I waved him down from my place on her shoulder. He gave a quick sigh of relief, then covered me with his hands as he slipped me into his pocket before anyone noticed.

“Where did you two go? I didn’t even see you leave! You can’t just wander off with them like that, what if something happened!?”

“Dib, chill. Recap and I just saved your butt from being hypnotized by Zim. You’re welcome. Though really, Recap should get most of the credit. I wouldn’t have even noticed you all turned into zombies if they hadn’t pointed it out. These earbuds are really high quality.” Gaz explained.

“Wait, really?” Dib asked. After a moment, he placed his hand in his pocket and gave me a head scritch with his thumb. “Thanks, bud.”

I leaned into his hand. I was glad he was safe. It felt great that I was able to do something to stop Zim. It’s easy to feel powerless when you’re this small. But I guess being a borrower has some advantages, and I’ve gotta use them to protect my humans. After all, they’d do the same for me.

#giant/tiny #g/t #g/t fluff #g/t writing #invader zim

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astranne · 4 years ago

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FanFiction.net MASTERLIST

Here are the FanFiction I’ve read on FanFiction.net. Hope you’ll enjoy!

For each recommendation I’ve linked the story to the title and wrote/copied a little summary. Please remember that many stories are rated M or E, if not stronger. Read on your own risk!

justhugefangirl’s masterlist

fanfiction recommendation masterlist

Love’s Labour Found by Peanutbuttertoast1

The War may be over, but Hermione Granger's life is just starting as her true heritage is revealed. Being the Heir to the Throne of England and a real life Princess is just the beginning of Hermione's story...but how will the Wizarding World react when they learn the Golden Girl and Gryffindor Princess is really a real life Royal?

This fanfic os one of my favourites, read it already three times- I can’t. It’s perfect, okay? For me it’s perfect.

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A Witch in Gotham by Peanutbuttertoast1

After the Second Wizarding War, a curse rips through the Magical World, leaving devastation in its wake. Hermione Granger is tasked to find the reason, and the cure before more lives are lost. Retreating into the Muggle World to start over, Hermione finds her way to Gotham City as Mia Black, Head of the Black Foundation. Her decision to help the Batman changes her life forever.

A perfect crossover- honestly, this author is perfect. As well this story. I don’t link more of the authors work but there are some other ones which are just ... perfect.

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Mischief Managed by fringeperson

A man with black hair, green eyes and pale skin watched over a child with black hair, green eyes, pale skin, and a variant of the Elder Futhark rune Sowilo etched upon his brow.

Mischief Mastered (part of story)

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Green Eyes and Red Hair by fringeperson

He was a practical joker with messy black hair. She was a talented woman with bright red hair. It turned out that they both had green eyes. Their daughter, when she came, was untouchable for more reasons than one. Loki-is-James, Natasha-is-Lily, Rogue-is-Fem!Harry.

I love the relationship between Loki and Natasha :)

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Love on Her Arm by Eye Greater Than Three

During a trip to Gringotts, Hyacinthe Potter discovered she met her soulmate, William Weasley. Bill/Hyacinthe. female!Harry.

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The Winter Witch by Kneazle

Hermione realized it began with a sense of Impending Doom and finished with a battle outside her tent. The deciding line between staying and helping Robb Stark, or returning to her universe, is getting harder to see the longer she's in Westeros. But it's a decision that she has to make, or it's one that will be made for her. Part 1 & Part 2 complete! Part 3 now ongoing.

This... is one of my favourites crossovers,,, the slowburn between Hermione and Robb,,, and it’s so fluff,,, I’m such a sucker for dark stories but this is just pureness and ugh-

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Moratorium by Darkpetal16

Harry Potter could never be the hero. But, she might make a great villain. Satire. Parody. -COMPLETE- F!Harry Fem!Harry Gray!Harry.

Uhm- this is one of the darker fics I love. It’s very good written, cause of this I really don’t mind the ship fem!Harry x Tom Riddle

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A Life Twice Lifed by Nemesis13

Draco Malfoy died at the venerable age of 107, and who awaited him at the crossroads? His mother? His wife? No, it had to be his eccentric former rival, eventual best friend, and far too often partner in chaos Harry Potter. Oh, and of course he had a deal to offer Draco to live his life anew, and obviously there was a caveat to it all that he wasn't privy to, damn Potters.Fem!Draco

Ahh, Drarry. How I love this ship

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Persephone by dulce.de.leche.go

Better to be the right hand of the devil than in his path. Better still to be the consort of Hades than a part of his collection of souls. Ten years after Voldemort has won the war, Hermione reaches a breaking point and shreds the flow of time to change her future. If she can't change the world, she will change her place in it. Extremely dark Tomione/Volmione. Warnings inside.

As already written in the summary, this fic is hella dark. So if you don’t like dark fics (especially with all the warnings mentioned in the first chapters) don’t read. I still love it tho-

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The Muddy Princess by Colubrina

Just another Pureblood!Hermione story. A hidden adoption revealed, a brother found, a new world to figure out: "What are you hoping for?" he asked as they stood ready to do the spell. "I don't know," Hermione admitted. "You?" His knuckles were white on his wand. "A sister," he said, his voice very low, "I'm hoping for a sister."

There are more stories from this author which are just- awesome and absolutly perfect, like the next ones. Since they have over 60, I won’t link every work here.

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Lady of the Lake by Colubrina

Hermione and Draco team up after the war to overthrow the Order and take over wizarding Britain. They have plans and they'll get power, but the cost of victory may be higher than they expected and more than they can bear. Dark Dramione. COMPLETE

This is perfection. Nothing more to say.

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Dark Cherry Chapstick by Colubrina

Hermione returns for an optional 8th year after the war and Draco Malfoy, also back at Hogwarts at his mother's request, notices she's changed. A brief dip into the 'makeover' trope AND the 'goth' trope in one fic. ONE SHOT. Dramione.

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The Green Girl by Colubrina

Hermione is sorted into Slytherin; how will things play out differently when the brains of the Golden Trio has different friends? AU. Darkish Dramione. COMPLETE

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The Last Peverell by animerocker 646

Being the Master of Death made life difficult, especially when you need to save all of magical Europe from inbreeding its way to extinction. At least Death was enjoying watching his Master attempt this over and over again. Harry didn't find it nearly as entertaining. Well, tenth times the charm right? (FemHarry)

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Soft, Low, English Accent by Tsume Yuki

'God, you've got a beautiful voice.' Hariel always found it funny, that of all the things her soulmate could take note of -the messy hair, the bright green eyes, the scar- it's her voice he points out first. FemHarryxMatt

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Bless the Broken Road by Tempestas D. Uzu

Her resolve crumbled in the face of Pietro Maximoff's scruffy good looks and warm blue eyes, and she found herself falling for another person who would be doomed to die for her selfishness. (One Shot)(fem!HarryXPietro)(cannon-divergent)(full warnings inside)

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The Death of Natasha Romanoff by Philosophize

While helping to stop Stane, Natasha encounters a face she never thought she'd see again. Forced to deal with memories, decisions, and a life she thought she'd long left behind, will she survive the emotional upheaval, not to mention the rampaging, homicidal Stane? Or will she have to face her fears & transform herself, becoming once again what she once was? AU; fem!Harry; femslash

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Code Of Conduct by tlyxor1

A year after the war, Gwen Potter joins SHIELD. It's a life in the shadows, and a perpetual dance with death, but for the Witch Who Won, SHIELD - and Clint Barton - is exactly what she needs. She just doesn't know it yet. AU. Clint/Gwen. Fem!Harry. Pre-MCU. Post-Hogwarts, Post OOTP. Discontinued.

It already says it’s not finished,,, but oh well- I still liked it.

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The Almost Forgotten Marriage Contract of 1763 by worldtravellingfly

What would you do when suddenly confronted with a 200+ years old marriage contract by a teen and her lawyer? Run for the hills? Call the nice guys with the white jackets? Certainly not - agree? Well, Tony Stark always was a bit unique.

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Some Hearts by sakurademonalchemist

Robin Black was a bound witch. However, as the new Mistress of Death she was able to break free to Asgard and prepare to reap her vengeance. What she didn't count on was falling for a certain green-eyed, silver-tongued God of Mischief or being hit by Time Sand before the war restarted. Can she make her way back to Loki, or will she be stuck on Earth? FEM HARRY! YOU WERE WARNED!

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A Man of Honor by bloomsburry-dhazel

One day, Lyanna Stark discovers an unconscious man in the Wolfswood. Not knowing who he is, she takes him back to Winterfell where he is nurse back to health... Steve Rogers can't remember what happened to him, or how he ends up there, but he does remember who he is. He is Captain America, and somehow he has become Lyanna Stark's sworn shield.

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The Origin of The Black Widow by The Black Shadowx

The story of how the Black Widow became to be. detailed description of her life in the Red Room and what happened when she defected. this is my own creation so if things appear that is not in the comics thats the reason. i don't things can ever be too far stretched so excuse me if it gets weird. DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING TO DO WITH MARVEL . WRITTEN FOR ENTERTAINMENT ONLY

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will be updated...

#masterlist #fanfiction #fanfiction.net #harry potter #marvel #dc #crossovers #got #game of thrones #honestly #why do i even put tags here #justhugefangirl recommends {📑}#fanfiction recommendation {📚}#justhugefangirl creates {🌹}

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 3 years ago

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Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 64 – The Will of the Blade

“Sir.”

It was Rael that Raizel’s steps were destined at, following his talk with Frankenstein.

“...Rael Kertia. It was of an honorable accomplishment that you have brought.”

Rael sheepishly nodded in response to his commendation.

On the first day ever he stood in the Lord’s Hall as the head of his clan, Rael cursed the fact that he had nothing to present as a medal unlike other heads of clans.

But now he finally got for himself what Raizel would dub as an accomplishment.

Even with something he could carve upon a new trophy for himself – something that he can proudly present to the patriarchs of the Kertia clan – he did not feel elated or proud at all.

His head was endlessly winding and rewinding a marathon of what he had gone through during his showdown against Deneb, pumping into his atriums and ventricles a myriad of feelings for each heartbeat.

The last of his curiosity for Grandia that has finally made its comeback.

Indignation at Deneb’s unspeakable plan.

And......

“Seem tremendously troubled you do.”

Just before he was once again conquered by the emotional chain most intricately bound to his mind at the moment, Raizel’s velvety call dragged him back to reality.

“Apologies, sir. I’m afraid I failed to attend to your words.”

“From your body I feel the edge of energies of Rayga and Razark.”

Rael’s head twitched, bowed in the presence of the Noblesse.

His soul weapon was tucked in hiding, waiting for the next summon its master would issue.

And just because a soul weapon is on standby for a summon does not mean its energy is completely intact within its outline.

However, in order for the energy within the soul weapon to leak, its owner must engage in a battle to unleash even the least portion of power he or she could afford, which will whisk only the faintest of the soul weapon’s energy.

Like the very first time Rael put himself against Frankenstein in Seoul, for example.

Compared to what happened back then, Rael’s Grandia is half-asleep, if its state is to be transcribed into a medical state, and Rael did not even attempt to dispense his power.

Yet Raizel claimed he picked up traces of Rayga and Razark, permanently asleep in Grandia.

Rael’s head wobbled back and forth, driven by the thought that his father and brother must have been aware of the anguish and deliberation he had suffered.

As expected.

And now he knew why Grandia had been serving as a thorn in his path.

“Sir, could you please spare me some time for me to open my heart...?”

What he had experienced was not the sort to rub into anybody’s nose, but Rael saw no reason to keep it a secret any longer.

Thus he unraveled the entire history of distress and woes he had with his soul weapon.

He also unleashed the sorrow, disorientation, and pressure he had to bear in relation to his conflict with the patriarchs of his clan.

Even though he was made an audience for something he had never asked for, Raizel kept his ears as focused as possible, his eyes never once blinking.

Rael’s speech met its end, but Raizel remained silent.

From his mouth as well-reserved as his nature, and from his eyes as serene as his physique and psyche, Rael could read Raizel’s intention.

The Noblesse was serving himself as a well – a well that never retorts or rebukes or rejects, regardless of the words that are poured into it.

A well that will simply accept whatever its visitor throws in and wait where it is until the visitor completely empties his or her monologue.

Rael realized a tad late that he was puffing up feeble gasps, now that he was done speaking.

It was not of the rate that would tail unimaginably rigorous physical labor.

It was closer to a physical and mental closure to a long, long mediation.

In fact, Rael could feel his heart clear like never before – at least he had never felt like this since his perpetual return to Lukedonia – reminiscent of the heaven made clean with a tempest.

As of now, he felt like he could do anything – including, for instance, dealing with his struggle against the oh-so-fearful patriarchs of Kertias once and for all.

‘I see.’

That was when Rael caught up on another motive behind Raizel’s quiet toleration of his narrative.

‘He’s helping me with my practice. After all, second is always easier than the first.’

And he even took caution to be considerate of Rael’s dignity, to allow him to figure out his purpose.

Rael met Raizel in the eyes, the Noblesse pleased that his treasured follower’s son earned an enlightenment.

“My Grandia had been unresponsive because my will was not what I should have carried. I should have held my blades with nothing but the very essence of the will of Kertias. Since who-knows-when, I’ve been captivated by this obsession that I must be a head of my clan that will not shame my father and brother. I have forgotten about myself as the head of Kertias, even committing shame of mimicking my brother in every aspect of my life, copying his hair and manner of speech.”

Rael’s voice was devoid of its past weight, instead firm and well-grounded.

“When I discarded all my obsession and corrected my path into the direction that will lead me to the Kertian will, albeit uncoordinated and inexperienced... That was when Grandia returned to me. And now... I think I know what path I must follow as the head of my clan... What I should do to truly return my gratitude to my father and brother, who gave me an ordeal of a lesson from my blades.”

It had been less than 24 hours since his steel reassumed its position, but Rael’s eyes were glowing with unmeasurable profundity.

“There is no need for perfection. There is no need for reenactment of my father and brother. What I need is self-discovery in my own path and will as a head of my clan. And I will never forget what truly matters. My deepest gratitude, sir, for being a company to my account.”

Raizel at last parted his lips, illustrating a subtle smile as if he was elated to be of help.

“Now go.”

Go? Go where?

“Concerned of him, you have been.”

Yup, he is impossible to fool.

“In that case, please excuse me.”

Keeping his manners functional to the very last moment, Rael showed the most well-shaped bow he could perform and turned his course, to the most seriously injured person among all people hospitalized as urgent patients within KSA’s infirmary.

*****

“...Sir... Rael...”

Rael was greeted by a vocal beckoning so very thin, not strange at all to be gone in mere seconds, the speaker’s every plane supposedly naked for the noble to see clad in bandages.

Had Rael been born from a different race, he would not have caught that Yuhyung was making a sound, let alone comprehend what he was making sounds for.

That was just how disastrously his voice box – no, how his entire body was compromised.

“Hang in there for just a little bit. Sir Frankenstein will be here soon.”

Rael offered a notice on Frankenstein’s return, by courtesy of Tao.

No punishment ever coined would be enough upon the human, considering what he had wrought and hence brought upon Korea.

Nonetheless, the RK’s reached an agreement to show the felon to Frankenstein.

After all, neither legal penalty nor physical retaliation would be possible if he is to die.

And Rael took out that part in his news; he did not feel this is the time to reveal the fact.

“And I recommend you to brace yourself. Lukedonia may summon you as an affiliate to Deneb’s act of treason, So...”

At then, Yuhyung spat out eccentric pieces of coughs.

If his throat happened to be better even by little, Rael would have noted immediately that it was meant to be a self-sneer.

That it was meant to be a self-scorn of immense regret, for making an irrevocable, erroneous choice and marking upon hundreds of people humongous bitterness of betrayal and scars.

‘Just how blind have I been...?’

The day he lost his colleagues to nobleborn and wolfborn elders of the Union and begot the blade called vengeance in his bosom.

That was the day Yuhyung got to define the noblekind and wolfkind as his nemesis.

He swore he will never forgive them.

He swore he will have his revenge.

He swore he will pry out the hearts of his nemesis with the blade within him, on the day he finally gains power.

So on the day Taesik and the doctor suddenly called him and assigned him business trips to nobles and werewolves, he burned with cruel passion.

And he even got to meet a Union agent called Helga, everything seemingly a golden chance from Lady Luck.

Which is why the moment he began his duty with the QuadraNet project, he deliberately shaped himself more uncoordinated and frantic.

He never stopped smiling and dispersing goofy laughs, as if his mouth was full of honey, but he painstakingly waited for the day he would get to reveal the blade within him, very much alive and hissing like a snake.

That was the way he had been, until he got to learn about Rael.

He felt his vindictive stance crumbling, in the face of a noble very far from arrogance or vanity.

He even felt for sure how he was wavering when he met the beautiful lord of the nobles.

Because when he was demonstrating for her Tao’s phone and apps, she was not hugely different from the human girls from his world, shy about her affections for her certain someone.

And then he ran into an unexpected addition to his quest – a noble named Deneb who forced him to be his spy on Rael.

Because of whom Yuhyung was half-coerced to yield from his set of equipment a walkie-talkie and the extrasensitive thermal detector, in case there were to be a future collision with Rael.

‘I almost had a heart attack when I realized Sir Rael rummaged through my bag, upon the sea where he was to hand me over to Miss Lunark, when I had a seizure. I was scared he might have realized my bag lost some weight.’

Apart from his apprehension towards an unwelcome ally, back then Yuhyung was actually thankful for Deneb.

For he became the reason for Yuhyung to scold himself that nobles cannot be trusted at all (and he should know it), the Illiness reeking of desire for Seira in every composition of his being, upon the sight of which Yuhyung regrounded his attitude that was swaying ever since his encounter with Rael and Lascrea.

Notwithstanding, he found himself hesitating once again, as he watched how Lunark was basically screaming into his eyes how she had a crush, with Garda making a huge show of teasing her.

He felt that they are basically werewolf versions of his own kind.

And he could feel himself precariously dithering, as he could practically hear the word “maybe” in his head at least dozen times.

He even had to shake his head as if there were a tarantula sitting upon it, but in the end he was met with a trial.

When Lunark escorted him back to Lukedonia, they had stopped in the middle of their marine trail.

He was horrified that she might have detected what lurks in his heart, but to his utmost surprise she brought herself upon her knees.

I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry about the death of your colleagues and devastation of your homeland, because of the assault that I was part of on that day. I know it’s too late to apologize. I know my apology does not bring back your colleagues. Still... I’m so sorry. I really am.

Never has he seen it coming.

Never has he even imagined that the very assailant of the tragedy would kneel before him.

What shocked him even more was that he almost offered her his hand to raise her up before she did.

As he put on a masquerade of every frenzy he could muster, he internally gritted his teeth.

That’s right, werewolf. This doesn’t change anything.

I’m not changing my goal, no matter what you do.

And how do I know if you’re being serious?

So I’m going to stick to my plan.

I will bring power to the KSA and stab your heart with this blade of mine!

‘I should have known that I was being stubborn... I should have known that I knew I was being stubborn. I should have stopped myself from ignoring what my heart was screeching at me.’

It was because of this incident at Seoul that he finally realized his heart could no longer stay as the sheath for his blade.

As he watched how the blade he was so certain was meant for nobles and werewolves ironically butchered his own kind and his beloved motherland, and as he grew delirious with pain and despair, as if the heaven had forsaken him, he finally had the enlightenment.

‘Not all nobles are evil. Not all werewolves are morally castrated. It is not right to dump individual evil upon the entire kind. Most importantly... I knew it deep down inside. But I’ve been playing deaf and blind.’

Which was proven by the fact that he unconsciously shifted his eyes towards Rael when he was pleading to Deneb to save this city.

For a reason unbeknownst to him, he knew that Rael is the one he should be begging to, not Deneb.

Which is why when Rael saved him from being pushed off the brink of death via Deneb’s hand and speedily carried him to KSA, Yuhyung did not waste his time at all in providing something to him.

Something he had earned during his quest at wolfkind’s realm, when he found from Adne’s computer the most recently printed file during the course of his work with QuadraNet project.

A file on something called GC chip.

It was the Union technology he found to be most enchanting, so he even took his separate notes about it.

That was what he handed to Rael, and the latter lived up to his expectations, saving Seoul with his team.

‘Even now he’s caring for a criminal and a traitor called me... Brace myself? I’ve already given up on myself, whatever it is that is waiting for me.’

Enemy to him. Enemy to Korea. And enemy to the mankind.

One of the subjects he had deemed so in fact saved him. He saved Korea. And he saved the mankind, at least those inhabiting this city.

And he could collect fragments of words that Tao, Takio, and M-21 shared as they visited in turns to take a look at him, to learn that Lunark did something similar at Lukedonia.

‘My true enemy wasn’t the nobles. Or werewolves. It was my thirst for vengeance twisted and distorted into obsession and obstinacy, refusing to accept that not all nobles and werewolves are my enemies.’

Which means it is time for him to throw away the blade he had been tucking deeply in his chest.

‘No... I shouldn’t throw it away. I must free it from the sheath called obsession, wipe off rust called obstinacy, and pass it on to the new wielder. To somebody who is directly affiliated with this matter and thus scheduled with a hell of a round of toil. Not to mention how he was discussing with Mr. Tao and his team that he must return to Lukedonia as soon as possible and bring judgment upon Deneb.’

With his decision made, Yuhyung croaked repeatedly to draw Rael’s attention.

His eyes bulging, the Kertia approached to look into the man, and Yuhyung for first time ever gave it all he had gotten to clutch onto his garment.

Or rather, he managed to barely place two of his fingers on Rael’s sleeve.

“I... Have... Some... Thing... To... Give... You...”

At first Rael tried to stop him from speaking; speech was on the list of not-to-do’s for the human in his current condition.

But the fact that Yuhyung would know very well how he is doing and yet is struggling to say something made him change his mind.

Which resulted with Rael’s eyes, already bulky enough, growing so enormous that it was a wonder they did not burst.

(next chapter)

Once again, I’ve brought you a chapter on how much Rael has grown lol. He happens to be my 3rd bias from Noblesse, so I’ve been waiting to compose and post this chapter. And at last here it is. :) Once I’m done describing the internal shifts the characters have gone through, this fic will finally meet its end. Actually, I assume Ch. 70 will be the final chapter. I have several projects I must get busy with, so it’s about time for me to finish this series. Although I don’t feel like I’m getting there yet, by the time I post the final chapter I’d feel immensely rueful that it’s over. Until then I will do my best as a writer. Much gratitude to those of you who would read my fic!

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #fanfic #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #lunarkxfrankenstein #wolfsbane #Mr.Wolf #AnAngelicDay

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obligatorynasty · 5 years ago

Note

Idk if you’re accepting prompts but—high school au w Badboy!Tony and soft!Peter and Tony like teases peter a lot and he says something or mocks peter (like peter stuttered talking to him cause he’s a bit shy and Tony jokingly mocks him) and peter starts to cry and Tony feels super duper bad about it and fluff fluff fluff!

Look at me. Filling prompts. Wow. Thanks for the inspo, anon.

EDIT: I made a part 2.

I’ll Be the Fight to Your Flight, Baby.

The school day was always the same for Peter – bus, class, lunch, class, bus – and peppered in there was always a good dash of bullying. Not that it was a surprise. He was a spectacle after all; possessing a much smaller frame than his cohorts, thick-rimmed glasses, zero fashion sense, a squeaky and high-pitched voice. He knew he was softer than the other kids too; more sensitive, an easier target, more likely to choose flight over fight. He knew that when Clint and Natasha tripped him in the hall, or when Bucky and Sam vandalized his locker, or when Flash called him names, they were doing it because his weak reactions made for a good laugh.

Peter wouldn’t say it didn’t bother him – because it did! It really, really did. Each teasing microaggression, each shove in the hall, each jab at his self-esteem made him want to run and hide. Bury his face in his hands so no one would see the tears pouring from his big brown eyes. But he didn’t. Instead, he endured it. Ignored it or pitifully laughed along with it to ease the sting of being socially ostracized. He didn’t want them to see him cry.

Even now, as Thor and Loki mocked every word Peter said to Ned from their place at the adjacent lunch table, he tried his best not to let it get to him.

“Don’t pay attention to them, dude,” Ned shook his head and shrugged, “They’re being assholes.”

“Okay,” Peter said with a forced smile, trying with all his might to ignore the relentless mockery. “So tell me more about the Lego Death Star? How many pieces is it?”

Thor’s roaring laughter cut through the bustle of the lunchroom. “Tell me more about the Lego Death Star, brother!”

Loki snickered, shooting Peter a wicked grin, “What would you like to know? How many pieces it has or, perhaps, how happy I am that my mommy bought me a child’s toy?”

Peter bit the inside of his lip, a tactic he used to hold back his tears. And Ned must have noticed because he turned to the older boys with anger in his eyes and said, “Can you guys just lay off? We aren’t even bothering you.”

“Brother, did you hear something?” Thor looked around, making a show of just how little he cared about Ned’s anger.

“Not at all, brother,” Loki laughed, playing along with his brother’s ignorance, “Tell me, what have you heard?”

“If I’m not mistaken, it had the distinct sound of a squealing pig!” Thor erupted in more laughter. His callous joke making every table in their vicinity burst into laughter of their own. And, if their sick humor was targeted at Peter, then he wouldn’t have opened his mouth. But it was directed at Ned and that was unforgivable.

“S-Shut up, T-Thor!” Peter yelled over the rambunctious crowd, his hands shaking and his heart pounding with fear as he, for the first time, chose fight over flight. His voice definitely cracked and his words held no real threat but, in the moment, it was exhilarating. Despite his fear, the crowd still went silent. Their faces stunned because Peter Parker never raises his voice. And just as Peter started to feel as though he’d won, it was ripped away from him.

“S-Shut up, T-Thor! D-Don’t talk to me and my pig like that!” Loki dramatically mocked Peter’s voice, bringing the crowd and Thor back into their laughter.

And Peter bit his lip again, hard enough for a faint coppery taste to rush his mouth. His eyes stung, and the trembles from his hands traveled up his arms and engulfed his entire being. He was upset, but his nerves kept him from choosing fight again. Instead, he stood from the table and ran. One foot in front of the other towards the cafeteria doors. Wanting nothing more than to escape the vicious scrutiny of his teenage peers.

But then, Peter was falling. His foot catching on some unidentifiable something and his face careening towards the off-white linoleum tiles. The impact hurt; more to his pride than to his body. And the laughter was louder, especially when Peter turned to see Clint’s outstretched foot and Natasha’s smug grin. Still, Peter chose flight. He clenched his teeth and scrambled to feet, and didn’t bother to look back as he finished his sprint to the doors.

Even in the calm of the hallway, Peter didn’t stop running. His body buzzed with an intense need to put as much distance between himself and his bullies as he could. His eyes were burning with the need to cry. His heart hurt and his mind was filled with flashbacks of every single time he endured, ignored, and struggled in silence. So he ran, and the only thing with the power to stop him was the sturdy chest of Tony Stark.

“Watch where you’re fucking going, Parker!” Tony yelled, making Peter flinch backward.

Out of all the people in the school, Tony Stark was the most fearsome. The most blood-hungry. The most respected. No one wanted to be on Tony’s bad side. The last guy who managed to piss him off doesn’t even go to the school anymore. Peter still remembers the day when the guy left on a stretcher, swearing up and down that Tony had nothing to do with it. But Peter knew, and so did every other student.

“S-S-Sorry, To-Tony. I-I didn’t- I w-was- I-” Peter stuttered, unable to get a coherent word out underneath the terrifying boy’s gaze.

Tony scoffed with an amused grin on his face, “S-S-Sorry, To-Tony.” He repeated with a laugh, bringing his hand up to flick Peter squarely on his forehead. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Parker? Just fucking speak.”

Peter brought a hand against his forehead, holding the spot where Tony’s finger connected. The dull throbbing pulled at his very last shred of self-control. He couldn’t take it anymore. His eyes betrayed him first as tears began waterfalling down his cheeks. Next was his voice. It turned to sobs and whines – all breathy and weak and embarrassing – but he couldn’t care. His body was the next to go. His frame visibly trembling and his hands covering his face as he just cried. Pathetically, and in front of Tony Stark.

“What the fuck, Parker?” Tony scoffed, “It was just a flick. Don’t be a little bitch about it.”

But Peter couldn’t stop his tears.

“Why the hell are you crying? Fuck-” Tony’s tone changed, dropping to something softer and a bit more frantic. “Seriously, Parker, quit it.”

But the tears kept flowing.

“Fucking hell. Just-! I’m sorry- just stop. Fucking stop-” Tony was rambling and if Peter wasn’t so lost in his overwhelming emotions, he would have taken notice of Tony Stark’s uncharacteristic apology.

“Peter.”

That did it. Peter finally glanced up, surprised to see a worried face staring down at him. He parted his lips, wanting to speak, wanting to say something – because holy shit, Tony Stark just apologized and called him Peter – but no words came. Instead, his eyes went wide and his tears stopped pouring and the wetness on his cheeks began to dry as he stared up into the taller boy’s dark eyes.

It was Tony who had the guts to break the silence. “Sorry,” He mumbled, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and looking away from the shorter boy. “I wouldn’t have done it if I knew you were going to cry like that.”

Peter’s face went hot. “I-I…um, it’s okay. I’m sorry for- I didn’t mean to run into you like that.”

“It’s whatever,” Tony shrugged, his eyes carefully moving back to Peter’s and his voice soft and worrisome. “You mad?”

Peter was floored by the older boy’s wary energy. He had never spoken to Tony before – mainly due to the horror stories of the vicious bad boy who only spoke with his fists – but now, Peter was starting to doubt them. “It wasn’t you!” Peter shook his head, his nervous stutter melting away as he became more comfortable in Tony’s presence. “I mean, the flick hurt but it wasn’t what caused it. I was already upset.”

Tony’s eyebrow shot up, “What upset you?”

“I just get picked on a lot.” Peter gave a weak laugh. His arms moving across his body in a self hug like he was trying to disappear. “It’s not a big deal.” Peter lied.

Suddenly, Tony’s hand was against Peter’s hair, threading through his brown curls in a gentle patting motion. The touch made Peter’s shoulders jump up in surprise but he didn’t move. It was soothing and kind and Peter thought of it as Tony’s way of comforting him.

“Who picks on you?” Tony asked, leaning down to be at eye level with Peter and never stopping his soft touch. “I’ll fuck them up.”

Peter gasped at the proximity. Tony was close enough to kiss – why Peter’s mind went there, he didn’t know. “Y-You don’t have to do that.”

“No,” Tony shook his head, “I think I do.”

“But why?” Peter whispered, scared to speak too loudly with Tony’s face so close.

“’Cause I like you, Peter.”

A warm hue crept up Peter’s face and his stutter came back with the vengeance. “W-Wha-? What are you- You l-like me?! We’ve n-never spoke before! W-Why do you l-like me?”

“Don’t know. I just do.” Tony grinned, “And I hated seeing you cry. So, I’ll ask again, who the fuck picks on you? Name some names, baby, and I’ll make sure they don’t even breathe in your direction again.” A wild look filled Tony’s eyes. “Shit, if you said so, I’d make sure they never breathed another breath.”

Peter stared at Tony with bewildered eyes. Not only did Tony Stark just confess, but he threatened to kill Peter’s bullies and he called Peter baby. Baby. Peter couldn’t believe this was even happening. “I- I don’t- um… I-”

“You know what?” Tony stood upright and threw his arm around Peter’s shoulder. “Come on.” He started towards the lunchroom, towing a reluctant Peter at his side. “You can just point those bitches out. I’ll drag their stupid faces across the floor and then, me and you, we can have lunch together.”

“T-Tony, wait. I don’t- I can’t go back in there.” Peter felt his eyes begin to sting again.

“Don’t you worry one bit, baby.” Tony didn’t stop walking, instead, he pressed a quick kiss against Peter’s temple. “I’ve got you.”

The kiss sent a wave of goosebumps across Peter’s skin, and despite his nerves, he let Tony pull him along. He felt safe, held against the older boy’s side with a protective arm around his shoulders. He liked it. He liked him. “Okay.”

Tony smiled, “That your answer then?”

“To what?” Peter asked as they rounded the corner towards the cafeteria doors.

“To being mine.”

“Being yours?” Peter blushed again, “Isn’t that a bit possessive?”

“Probably, but I can’t help it. When I see something I want, I take it. And I really want you, baby.”

Peter giggled at Tony’s brutally candid words, “Okay, sure. I’ll be yours.”

“Perfect,” Tony placed a hand against the double doors. “Now, you better not change your mind when you see me fight for you.” He smirked, “I’ll try not to make it too bloody.”

#starker #peter parker x tony stark #peter parker/tony stark #obligatorywrites

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queen18xo · 4 years ago

Text

Loki’s Sacrafice

The sight that greets Thor upon his arrival within the dungeon is Loki stood impassively staring out at the destruction left in the wake of Kurse's escape as well as the multiple other prisoners, all except Loki. Loki may lack remorse, and his behaviour is questionable at best however Loki loved their mother, while Thor became Odin's favourite Loki became Frigga's. Frigga was the one to teach Loki all he knew about his Seidr. It was the knowledge of Loki's love for their mother that allowed Thor to see through Loki's well-constructed illusion. Loki did not love many people but those he did he loved fiercely.

"Well if it isn't my brother the mighty Thor, why are you here, brother?" Loki spits venomously, his illusion holding steady in the face of his grief and hurt. Loki may not admit it, but Thor knew he was hurt, They were brothers and Thor betrayed their bond, locking him away to rot beneath Asgard. Thor wished he'd made the trip to see Loki sooner; Thor yearned to change a lot of what had transpired between them in past years, although it was too late for that now and there was no use in dwelling on past errors.

There was once a time Loki loved Thor more dearly than any other in the Nine Realms; Thor had taken that love for granted expecting Loki to fall at his feet like the rest of the Nine Realms. It wasn't until he lost his brothers love due to his idiocy that he realised he loved Loki just as much if not more. In his youth, Thor had been arrogant and brutish often teasing Loki for his smaller frame; he watched as Loki began to drift from him, watched as he began to sequester himself, losing himself in dusty forgotten tomes.

"No more illusions Loki" Thor stated, blatantly ignoring Loki's question, Thor would not divulge sensitive information to the younger man while still faced with an illusion. Loki was a master of deception, but he had never been able to mislead Thor. Thor saw past all of Loki's carefully constructed words and facial expressions. Loki may have forgotten how to read Thor, but Thor had never lost the ability to see through his brother's deceptive ways.

Thor squinted against the bright green glimmer of light as Loki's Seidr receded. Thor's heart constricted painfully in his chest as he took in Loki's dishevelled appearance. The god of mischief sat curled in on himself on the floor his face pale with an ashen grey tone to it, his cheeks sunken in body thinner then Thor remembered. Loki had always been lithe; however hidden beneath his clothes Thor knew there was corded muscle, the version of Loki sat before him was merely skin and bone previous muscle mass lost due to malnutrition. Anger burns hot in Thor's veins seeing his once-proud brother treated so severely.

Loki had various bruises and cuts adorning his body, his cell a mess, his meagre belongings smashed and thrown around the room, Loki met Thor's gaze his eyes burning with defiance. Thor stared heartbroken at the sight his brother made, how could their father allow Loki to be treated this way, he may be a prisoner, but Loki was still a prince of Asgard. "Now you see me brother" Loki stated confidently his usual arrogant facade masking doing little to mask the pain Thor could see simmering beneath the surface, Loki looked ready to break. Still, Thor knew Loki was stronger than that, and he had undoubtedly faced worse.

"I always see you brother," Thor spoke with difficulty, valiantly fighting to keep his voice from wavering as his heart breaks watching as Loki masked his pain uncomfortable being seen vulnerable in front of Thor. Not for the first time, Thor finds himself longing to reach out for his brother, to pull him into an embrace. Thor craves to hold the smaller man in his arms, to push away all the hurt shrouding his brother. Loki shook his head, huffing a bitter laugh, a wry, mocking smile gracing his delicate features.

"Enough of your foolish sentimentality" Loki spits rising to stand, with a wave of his hand he is bathed in a brilliant green glow his armour appearing in place of his previous tattered garments. "You did not come here to share in our grief so tell me what does the mighty Thor Odinson need of me" Loki seethes his eyes distant and haunted as he speaks as if reliving past memories. Thor himself could remember many occasions in which he'd asked Loki for favours and yet never thanked him, often brushing him off once he was satisfied as if Loki was no more than a servant.

Thor stood shocked, watching as his brother fought down the pain wrought by past slights. Loki had always appeared to brush off taunts and teasing effortlessly, however, stood here before Thor the older man could see through his well-controlled facade he could see the insecurity and the despondency swimming in Loki's usually glittering green eyes.

"I need your help, Lo" Thor released the cell door standing before Loki as he waited for the man to respond.

Loki stood rage, burning in his darkened eyes. "Do not call me that" Loki seethes, violently shoving Thor aside as he exits the cell. Loki pushed a few stray strands of misplaced hair from his face as he turned to settle Thor with an impatient glare, arms crossed defiantly across his chest. "Well spit it out then brother, what is it you require of me this time?" Loki asks observing his nails as he feigns indifference, Thor saw it for what it was, Loki attempting to mask any true feelings he may have.

"The Ether is consuming Jane, Malekith will return for it, and he will lay waste to Asgard. I wish for you to help me travel to Svartfelhiem so I may defeat him there." Loki tutted in disbelief as he listened to Thor, their mother had just been brutally murdered trying to protect the useless Midgaurdian woman.

"You wish for me to help you protect the woman responsible for our mother's death?" Loki asked incredulously "you were a fool to ask this of me; I will not do it." Loki refused.

"Then brother do it for vengeance if you won't do it for me, do it for mother!" Thor exclaims desperately trying to reason with his brother. Loki concedes his thirst for vengeance outweighing any protest he may have had.

"Lead the way then dear brother" Loki smiled mockingly as he gestures for Thor to lead him. Loki follows close behind his long strides appearing graceful and effortless; however, Thor could see the subtle winces of intense pain marring Loki's features when he thought Thor wasn't Looking.

Loki began needling his brother as they walked, changing his form and making irritating commentary as Thor tried to concentrate on not being detected by the guards. Loki was desperately trying to bate Thor into a meaningless fight. Thor refused to give in to his growing irritation, trying to avoid giving Loki the satisfaction of riling him up. Loki was like an itch he could never scratch, a frustration that never ceased.

Thor gripped Loki firmly by the throat another one of his substantial hands wrapping around his mouth, effectively pinning Loki to one of the ancient golden pillars, his heavyset body pressing Lokis delicate frame into the hard surface. "Enough of this brother" Thor growled under his breath; keeping his voice down to avoid alerting any of the castles guards to their presence. Thor can feel the fast flutter of Lokis heart rate beneath his hand; he can see the shock in Lokis eyes. Thor may have been aggressive, but he had never been one to initiate violence with Loki. Thor startled as he felt the wet glide of Loki's tongue as it brushed gently across his palm as he licked his lips nervously. Beneath his palm Thor could feel as Loki swallowed, the movement drawing Thor's gaze to the long expanse of Loki's pale neck. Thor watched as his brother internally fought himself to keep from melting into the warmth of his older brothers touch.

"Just, enough Loki" Thor whispers removing his hand from Loki's mouth his hungry gaze unable to leave Loki's as he stares down at his brother his body flush against Lokis smaller one. Loki painted a tempting picture, pinned beneath Thor his face flushed, hair falling in loose messy strands over his shoulders, his eyes blown wide with shock. He can feel the hard planes of Lokis torso pressed against him, one of his large thighs slipped between Lokis legs keeping the shorter man stood on his tiptoes. Loki's warm breath ghosts over Thor's lips, making an unwanted desire curl in his gut.

Thor had never seen Loki in such an enticing way, the way Loki looked when genuinely caught by surprise was enchanting. Thor desired to see Loki in this way more often. He found himself overcome with lewd images of various ways in which he could see his little brother truly flustered and lost for words, none appropriate for their relationship.

"Brother" Loki whispers, his voice low and gravelly in a way unfamiliar to Thor, he pushes gently at Thor's chest even in his weakened state Thor did not doubt that if Loki truly wished to push him away, he was capable. However, Thor looking down at the intimate way he held Loki's body against his knew it would be wise to follow his brother's advice and move. The air between them was charged, crackling with Thor's power, in the distance thor could hear the low rumble of developing thunder. Thor startled staring at Loki astounded; he hadn't lost control of his powers since they were boys, Loki appeared to be troubled as he carefully extricated himself from beneath Thor's body.

Thor watched transfixed as his brother righted his clothing, taking in deep lungfuls of breath to regain his composure, he muttered vulgar curses beneath his breath. Thor bit back a smile, in all the years he'd grown up alongside his brother he had never seen him in such a way. Loki was always carefully put together, never allowing people a glimpse beneath his well-maintained facade's however in this rare moment, Thor was allowed to see Loki in a way no one else was. Thor cherished the moment, wishing for the chance to see more clandestine sides to his brother, hoping to share more of these private moments. Thor craved to be the only one to see Loki unpolished, a surge of possessiveness roaring through him, the thought of others glimpsing Loki, the real Loki unsettling.

"We must hurry" Thor declared fighting down the unwelcome desire to hold his brother close once more, his announcement making it clear to Loki he had no desire to discuss what had just transpired between them. Loki was quick to agree with a stilted nod of his head, trailing unhurriedly behind Thor as they made their escape from Asgard. ~~~ Loki released a pained groan as he laid sprawled across the wooden floor of the boat he was unaware had been flying alongside the ship they had stolen. He heard the loud thump of Thor's feet as he landed alongside Loki in the vessel, Loki stared up at him anger brimming in his eyes. "You brute!" Loki exclaimed, rage burning in him, the sight of Thor's mirthful smile agitating him further.

"I see your time in the dungeon has made you no less graceful Loki" Loki chuckles the sounds of Fandral's deep jovial voice bringing a warm smile to Loki's face. Loki looks up from his sprawled position, eyes settling on Fandral where he stood at the head of the ship keeping them on course.

A lighthearted chuckle escapes his lips as he pulls himself up, moving to stand beside Fandral. "I see my time in the dungeon made you no less charming Fandral" Loki teases with a warm smile enjoying the innocent banter they shared. Fandral was a notorious flirt and a scoundrel, but there was no heat behind his words, Loki had become accustomed to the good-humoured nature of their improbable friendship.

"Its good to see you again Loki" Fandral professed as he eyed Loki worriedly, observing the younger man's state he gently pulls him into his side for a soothing embrace, Loki melts unworriedly into the intimate contact. Thor watched in disbelief as Loki allowed Fandral to tuck him protectively against his side. Loki was not found of physical contact; he had never been and yet there he stood taking comfort in Fandral's touch. Thor quietly seethed, unwilling to cause an argument as he was unsure as to why seeing Fandral hold Loki evoked such a vigorous response.

Thor had never seen the two men act in such a way and he felt an unusual pang in his chest, almost as if it were a physical pain. He was unable to tear his gaze from the embrace his oldest friend held his younger brother in. He knew the two's relationship was none of his business and yet he desperately wanted it to be. He hated watching as Fandral held Loki and worse yet was the soft smile on Loki's face as he nuzzled gently against Fandral's neck. But why did he hate it so much, Loki was his brother he held no claim to the younger man nor did he wish to. At least he didn't think he did, he had Jane, after all, Jane, who was currently laying in his arms dying. Loki was his brother, his brother who had betrayed him on countless occasions. Loki was nothing more to him, so why was this so painful to watch.

Palace guards began shooting at them, shaking Thor from his troubled thoughts as they continued their escape to Svartalfheim. "I believe this is where I must depart." Fandral nods his goodbye to Thor before turning to Loki. He takes one of Loki's slender hands and laces it with one of his own larger hands " Come back safe Loki" Thor has to turn away as Loki leans in to place a gentle kiss to Fandrals cheek their gazes meeting Thor could easily see Fandrals concern.

"Do not be an idiot Fandral; please be careful" Loki pleaded one of his dainty hands pressed sweetly to Fandral's cheek as he spoke, Thor was wholly unprepared for the intimacy shared between the two, he had never seen such an unguarded expression of love on Loki's face, it was jarring to see.

"When did that happen?" Thor questions wincing as his tone sounds icy as the question passes his lips. Thor watches as Loki bites back what was no doubt about to be a scathing remark instead choosing to remain focused on the treacherous task of helping Thor and his Midgaurdian pass into the realm of the Dark Elves.

Once they begin sailing through the charred skies of Svartalfheim, Loki responds. "Not that it is any of your concern but to save your friendship, I shall dignify that ignorant question with an answer." Loki pauses his striking green eyes filled with barely concealed fury as they meet Thor's. The familiar action was bringing fond memories of Loki as a boy teaching Thor to see through his illusions. Loki had always said that if Thor wished to know the truth, he must simply look at the eye's as they could not hide emotion. "Fandral is merely a good friend and the only person in all of the Nine Realms to visit me while I was in the dungeon which is more than I can say for you brother." Loki looks away quickly. However, Thor didn't miss the flash of hurt in his eyes as he finished speaking.

"Why would Fandral visit you if you are not in a relationship?" Thor asked genuinely confused; he could see Loki seething with anger before him; however, his brother took calming breaths, keeping his eyes resolutely trained on the terrain before them.

"You are my brother Thor. Therefore you have no right to comment on who I would choose to be intimate with" Loki declares glaring at Thor angrily.

"So you are intimately involved with Fandral" Thor jumped from where he had been previously sat beside Jane, he moves like lightning stood before Loki before the younger man could comprehend his movement. "Fandral will not treat you as you deserve Loki" Thor whispers dejectedly as he stands close enough to feel the heat emanating from Loki's body.

"Fandral is kind to me, and he treats me better than you ever have."

Thor stumbles back the weight of Loki's words causing him to feel off balance. "Lo..." Thor murmurs sorrowfully his heart aching in his chest. He knew he had never been kind to Loki, but in truth, he had always been able to handle Loki. The confidence the younger man possessed terrifying to Thor, Loki was beautiful in an unusual way; he did not look like most Asgardian men and Thor had always found the sight of Loki peculiarly appealing. Loki was his brother and deserved to be treated as such; Thor had spent so long forcing any unwanted attraction for Loki away that he had inadvertently pushed Loki away in turn.

"I will not tell you again Thor, do not call me that. Fandral and I are not intimate, we have never been and never will be." Loki's tone is firm, leaving no room for argument. Thor ducks his head in shamefully; he had not intended to offend Loki by insinuating he would be intimate with Fandral.

"Go scout the area; I will protect your human," Loki announces as he pulls their vessel to a halt atop a lifeless mound of ash. Thor hesitates to eye his brother distrustfully "No harm will come to her brother." Loki states his eyes divulged how much Thor's distrust wounded him. Thor met Loki's eyes his own features brimming with unvoiced apologies as he leaves.

As he wanders across the barren terrain his eyes flick back worriedly to observe Loki carrying Jane in his arms, her head was laying against his shoulder as one of his hands carded through her hair gently soothing her distress. A fond smile graced Thor's lips as he watched the gentle way Loki cared for Jane, a woman he had no care for, Thor was amazed by Loki's capacity for softness.

From a distance, Thor could see as Loki's face darkened his eyes setting with a mix of steely determination and a protective rage. Confused by the sudden change in demeanour Thor turned to follow Loki's eye line, watching as Malekith and Kurse descended their ship landing meters from where Loki stood with Jane cradled protectively in his arms. Thor hastily made his way towards them, his eyes trained on Loki, he watched the man whisper unheard words against Jane's forehead gently placing her on the ground behind him. Thor sped across the ash-covered ground he could feel in his gut he would not make it, he cursed himself for wandering so far, leaving Loki to face a threat alone. He worried for his brother realising that his worry had been concentrated on Loki, forgetting the woman he claimed to love.

Loki's daggers appeared in a flash of striking green light, his stance dropping ready to attack. Loki had always looked mesmerising poised for a fight, his eyes ferocious shining with unbridled wrath his agile body as dangerous as the daggers he wielded.

Thor stood frozen mere meters behind Malekith taming his ragged breathing as he attempted to remain unseen by the Dark Elf. A quick flick of Loki's eyes in his direction informing him that his position had not escaped his brothers notice. Thor worried his bottom lip with his teeth as he watched the situation unfold before him.

"You can try and take her Malekith, but you will not succeed," Loki called out across the barren space, separating them. Loki flicked his eyes to Jane worriedly, he was not fond of the woman, but he would protect with everything he had, even after all these years he still couldn't bare to disappoint his brother.

"Why do you protect this mortal young prince?" Malekith asks, he motions for Kurse to hold his position as he gradually closes the distance between himself and Loki. "How would your brother feel if he knew the truth?" Malkeith shook his head; his mouth turned up in disgust. Thor watched as Loki flinched, Thor watched in disbelief Loki was not one to allow his emotions to intervene in battle and yet as Malekieth spoke, Thor watched as Loki's resolve began to crumble. Loki's eyes flicked to his unsure, sadness swirling in them as he locked eyes with Thor, he caught as Loki mouthed the words 'I'm sorry.'

"You can not bate me Malekieth"

Malekeith chuckles darkly his black eyes meeting Loki's "You would truly give your life for your brothers mortal?" Thor swallowed harshly, his stomach filling with dread as he waited for Loki's self-preservation instincts to kick in.

Loki's eyes met Thor's a soft smile on his lips. "Yes I would and if you know me as well as you seem to you would already know that." Eyes flicking back to Malekeith Loki hovered a hand over Jane's still body his fingertips flickering with the familiar green light of his seidr. Thor watched as the Loki extracted the Ether from Jane, her body convulsing on the ground, the Ethers red glow melding with the green of Loki's Seidr. A tear slid down Thor's cheek as Loki screamed out in pain, his face contorted in agony as the Ether merged with his Seidr.

"I will have the either young Loki" Malekith advanced on Loki with inhuman speed, Thor fell to his knees unable to do more than watch fear freezing him to the spot. Malekith grabbed Loki by the throat, slamming him to the ground. As Malekith landed beside him on the ground, Thor saw a trickle of blood emerge from his mouth before he fell to the side, one of Loki's daggers protruding from his chest.

Thor slumped in relief with a heavy exhale, Loki sprung from the ground his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath his fingers sparking with a mix of green and red light his knees bent as he readied himself for Kurse's oncoming attack. Loki struck him one of his daggers implanting itself in his stomach the weapon bearly slowing his attack.

Kurse pulled the dagger from his stomach gripping Loki's hair with the other hand; he raises Loki's blade above his head, Loki's hand spark red where it connects with Kurse's chest, the impact a fraction too late as Kurse buries the blade deep into Loki's chest. Loki drops to the floor, Kurse dropping beside him Thor watches in horror as they lay lifeless beside each other.

"LOKI! Loki, no" Thor runs to his brothers still body dropping to his knees as he pulls Loki's body into his arms, tucking him against his chest. "No, no, Loki please" Thor begs tears streaming from his eyes as his hands clumsily push Loki's hair from his face.

"I will be fine brother" Loki whispers brokenly, blood painting his lips red, Thor stares down at his brother incredulously as he coughs and splutters droplets of blood falling from his mouth. Jane falls to his side, pulling one of Loki's hands into her own.

Loki looks to Jane a small smile on his face "you're okay" he says his struggling to remain open. Jane grips his hand tighter, watching sadly as his eyes flutter shut.

"Heimdall" Thor screams in anguish his head thrown up to the sky, tears falling in hot streaks down his face. He buries his head in Loki's hair as the rainbow bridge envelops the three of them.

Thor feels strong hands tugging him from Loki's lifeless body he struggles and fights screaming, but the hands do not yield. "Thor my friend, please, let the healers work" a solemn voice he distantly recognises as Fandral's breaks through grief-stricken screams. Thor falls heavily into his friends embrace, watching as the healers carry Loki's body to the healing rooms.

~~~~

Thor, Fandral and Jane all sit solemnly waiting in Loki's bed chambers for the man to wake. Fandral paced the floor, unable to stand still any longer, anxious for his friend to wake up. "I have never been inside Loki's chambers before; they do just scream Loki" Fandral speaks desperately trying to break the tense silence of the room.

"There is a good reason as to why you have never been invited into my chambers Fandral" Loki's voice is rough from disuse as he speaks, everyone's heads turning to where Loki lays his eyes dull and glazed as he looks over the people crowded around his bed.

"Loki" Fandral exhales dropping to sit on the mattress beside him. "I thought I told you to come home safe my darling" Fandral speaks gently pushing Loki's hair from his sweat-dampened forehead. Loki's eyes flit to where Thor sits watching as Fandral cares for his brother, his eyes brimming with a mix of relief, hurt and anger Loki attempts to catch his attention subtly, but his gaze is trained on Fandral's movements.

"Fandral" Loki sighs in fond exasperation over his friend's antics. "Jane I am glad you are well" Loki gives her a brief smile before turning back to look at Thor. " If you two wouldn't mind I would like a private word with my brother." Loki states.

Thor watches nervously as Jane and Fandral exit the room leaving him alone with Loki. Thor had spent the multiple hours waiting for Loki to wake up thinking over Malekeith's words to his brother. Loki had always been one for secrets, but the disgust on Malekeiths face was burned in Thor's mind along with his words.

"Speak your mind brother" Loki rolls his eyes; he had never been fond of people shying away from confrontation no matter the circumstances.

"Are you truly okay?" Thor asks shelving the oncoming conversation until he can be sure his brother is sufficiently healed. Thor moves to lay beside Loki on his bed something he had not done since the two were boys, Loki bites back the smile threatening to form over the action.

"I am fine, Thor. Truly I am" Loki sits up, his back pressing to the headboard, turning his head to face Thor, finding the man already looking at him. Thor sighs heavily, a large hand moving to cup his sleep warmed cheek, Loki nuzzles into the touch smiling gently up at Thor.

"What did Malekeith mean Loki, what secret are you keeping?" Thor asks his eyes worried, Loki tries to pull himself from Thor's grip however the man is unwilling to let him go using his free hand to tilt Loki's face up until their eyes meet once again. "Loki, please" Thor pleads.

"I love you, Thor" Loki professes tears swelling in his green eyes as he holds his brothers gaze, Thor's mouth slackens in shock. "It's disgusting, and it's wrong and before today you never much cared for my presence, but I loved you, I always loved you." Lost for words Thor does the only thing he can think to at that moment, he tangles one of his hands in Loki's hair, his eyes trained on Loki's tear-filled ones as he leans in his lips brushing gently against Loki's.

Loki gasps as Thor's lips brush his, Thor takes the movement as an invitation, his tongue beginning its exploration of the warm heat of Loki's mouth. "Thor" Loki whimpers into the kiss, Thor can feel the tremors coursing through Loki's body he pulls away worriedly, his eyes searching Loki's face for what is wrong.

Loki traces his bottom lip with his finger; Thor is captivated by the sight, the feel of Loki's lips against his forever burnt into his memory. "Loki" Thor whispers awestruck, replacing Loki's finger with his own, he gently brushes the pad of his finger against the soft swell of Loki's bottom lip.

"Thor, why?" Loki whispers nervously into the small space between them; he searches Thor's eyes, finding them brimming with unshed tears. Loki reaches a shaky hand up placing against the side of Thor's face, the coarse hairs of his beard brushing his wrist.

"I love you Loki; I don't know how long I have loved you, I wasn't even aware I loved you until I nearly lost you." Loki smiles up at the brother tears of his own threatening to spill. Loki closes the gap between them his inexperience showing as he attempts to keep pace with Thor.

"Loki have you never?" Thor asks shocked, Loki's cheeks colour pink from embarrassment.

The door creaks open slightly "the answer would be no, you were his first kiss, not for lack of trying on my part." Fandral's jovial voice breaks through the silence. Loki buries his face in his hands, embarrassed beyond reason by his friend. Thor releases a menacing growl as he glares at Fandral.

"Thor" Loki groans lifting his head from his hands levelling his thick-witted brother with a glare. "He has never tried, the idiot was joking." Loki groans, turning his glare on Fandral who simply smiled in return.

Loki throws one of his numerous pillows, hitting Fandral's face the man laughing good-naturedly "I shall leave you now, my prince's" Fandral smirks as he takes his leave.

Thor wraps Loki in his corded arms, holding the younger man close, he buries his face in the top of his hair as Loki melts into the contact his head nestled against Thor's chest. " I love you, brother." Thor murmurs into his hair, Loki smiles content as he drifts off to sleep against the firm muscles of Thor's chest.

#thorki #thorki fanfiction

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krinsbez · 3 years ago

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Infinite Four, Refurbished: A Marvel Fanfic Concept

Here is the complete-as-of-now, refurbished version of Infinite Four, my attempt at envisioning an FF version of the eXiles or Web Warriors. Comments and suggestions welcome.

On Earth-9499729, Victor Von Doom has finally defeated the accursed RICHARDS! and assumed his rightful place as ruler of the Earth. Unwilling to rest on his laurels, Emperor Doom has begun studying the Multiverse. And when he finds out that in most realities, a version of himself is repeatedly defeated by a version of RICHARDS! he reacts….poorly.

Meanwhile, on Earth-75845525, Victor Von Doom, smarting from his latest defeat at the hands of the accursed RICHARDS!, decides to distract himself by studying the Multiverse. And when he finds out that in most realities, a version of himself is repeatedly defeated by a version of RICHARDS! he reacts….poorly.

Meanwhile, on Earth-34373402, Victor Von Doom takes a break from planning his latest attempt to defeat the accursed RICHARDS! by studying the Multiverse. And when he finds out that in most realities, a version of himself is repeatedly defeated by a version of RICHARDS! he reacts….poorly. Yeah, so in an infinite multiverse, there’s an infinite number of Dooms throwing an infinite number of shitfits over the fact that in most realities, the Richards family wins and he loses. And because Doom is often kinda bad at recognizing and/or caring that his actions can have negative consequences for everyone else, this gets very, very bad, and needs to be dealt with.

Someone has to clean up the mess, and that responsibility has been taken on by the Baxter Brain, an artificial hyper-intelligence housed inside a massive arcology that began as the combined uploaded consciousnesses of a version of the FF. But, even it’s astounding intellect and power can’t cope with ALL of the various Dooms (and Wizards, and Mad Thinkers, and Diablos, and occasionally an evil Reed) screwing things up for everyone with their egomaniacal disregard for everyone else. So, it has to recruit agents, and what better agents could their be than alternate versions of it’s previous selves? There are four teams: Alpha Team and Beta Team are each made up of an alternate Ben, Johnny, Reed and Sue; in the former case, they have additional power-sets from the "baseline", in the latter, they have additional skills or alternate powersets. In both cases, the individual team-members come from realities where they lost their version of the family. Gamma and Delta Teams are made up of versions of allies of the core four, and serve as support for Alpha and Beta. I only have two members of either ATM, help please? Alpha Team: -Reed Richards, Dr. Fantastic; from an Earth where, instead of Ben being the only member of the Four who was mode-locked, Reed was the only one who wasn’t; obviously, the celebrity adventurers thing didn’t wasn’t going to work. Desperate to find some way of curing his friends, Reed turned to magic, and eventually ended up becoming Sorcerer Supreme…which unfortunately led to the Dread Dormammu killing his family. -Johnny Storm, Ghost Torch; from a world where Reed’s guilt over turning his friends into freaks caused him to commit suicide. Unsurprisingly, this made things even worse for Sue, Ben, and Johnny, the latter of whom ended up being so lost that he joined a Satanic cult and found himself bound to a demonic Spirit of Vengeance… -Ben Grimm, Wolf-Thing; from an Earth where Reed’s moonshot wasn’t canceled, meaning that when it went to space it had adequate cosmic-ray shielding, and Ben managed to make it to the Moon without any problems whatsoever. Whilst on the Moon, however, he found a certain red gemstone…Fortunately, Reed figured out the wolf-monster stalking NYC was his best friend and built a gizmo to restore him to sanity, albeit by blasting him with cosmic rays that turned him into a rock monster. Unfortunately, he ended up dead in the process of using it (I can’t decided if Ben mauled him, or if some triggerhappy cop or something shot him by mistake) -Susan Storm, the Invincible Woman; a version of Sue who was forced to become a Herald of Galactus. Beta Team: -Dr. Maggie Wingfoot, the Human Torch; a female version of Johnny (named after her Aunt Marygay), who left the team to marry Wyatt Wingfoot and go to college, eventually earning a PhD in Mechanical Engineering. Unfortunately, at some point, something went wrong and the Baxter Building was destroyed, killing the rest of the family. Convinced that, if she’d been there she could’ve prevented it, Maggie’s marriage subsequently fell apart. -Susan McKenzie, Sub-Mariness; from a world where Reed died, leading Sue to take up with Namor; she was subsequently given an infusion of Atlantean DNA to enable to her to live underwater, and ended up with same mutations as him and Namora, but lost her cosmic-ray induced powers. -Ben Grimm, Juggernaut; during his service in the Korean War, got shot down and ended up falling in with a bunch of of Army grunts, including a pair of bickering step-brothers named Charles Xavier and Cain Marko. When they stumble onto a hidden temple, it is Ben who finds the crimson Crystal of Cytorrak and is transformed by it’s power into the Juggernaut… -Reed Richards, Director of SHIELD; from a world where the FF got caught trying to steal the shuttle. Fortunately for everyone, Nick Fury stepped in and offered his old OSS buddy a deal he couldn’t refuse; if Reed came to work for him at SHIELD, he’d make the charges against the other three go away. Not wishing to ruin his friend’s lives, Reed agreed, and became one of SHIELD’s top operatives, ultimately taking over the organization when Fury eventually went down. Gamma Team: -Victoria Von Doom-Grimm, Dr. Grim; female version of Doom, fell in love with Ben when they were in college, and subsequently married him. Unfortunately, having her genitalia on the inside didn’t make her less of a narcissistic megalomaniac, and their marriage was…rocky, with them constantly separating and getting back together. During one such separation, the fateful trip to space happened. Victoria was…displeased that her handsome husband had been turned into a monster, and was so determined to fix it, that she did not adequately test the cure she concocted. On the plus side, inadvertently making herself a widow forced her to take a good hard look at herself and try to change her ways. -Namor McKenzie-Richards-Storm, Sub-Mariner. From a world where Reed and Namor were both bisexual, resulting in Reed, Namor, and Sue all getting together. Unfortunately, this led to Reed and Sue being assassinated by one of Namor's political rivals. Also, presenting two teams of recurring sometimes enemies/sometimes allies: The Brides of Doom (women who had been married to their local version of Doom, who have dedicated themselves to cleaning up his mess): -Susan Von Doom (duh) -Ororo Von Doom (again, duh) -Victoria Von Doom (female clone of Victor. Honestly, given how egomaniacal Victor is, it’s astounding this isn’t a thing in canon) -Natasha von Doom, it’s happened in a couple weird alternates, so might as well. (thanks to Xero Key for this suggestion) A Natasha who made some different choices after the USSR fell apart, and ended up working for Doom instead of the new Russian government. -Jennifer von Doom, because a Hulk is required here. (ditto) Haven’t quite worked out how this one happened. Suggestions? -Shuri Von Doom, owing to a political marriage in order to obtain Doom’s aid in fixing the mess that resulted when one of the many attempts to oust T’Challa that failed in 616 worked. Was not happy about it, but accepted it for the greater good of Wakanda. -Anelle von Doom, likewise owing to a political marriage, albeit rather different. Anelle was even less happy about this, but her father was on an enemy-of-my-enemy kick and thought he could handle Doom after the FF were eliminated. Suffice to say, this didn’t work out so well for him. On the plus side, Emperor Victor I is actually doing a good job running the Skrull Empire, which as a bonus is a lot more work than running Latveria, reducing the amount of free time Doom has to scheme. -Emma Von Doom, from a world where the Hellfire Club thought they could get away with manipulating Doom. Unsurprisingly, they were wrong. Emma still ended up making a Heel-Face Turn eventually, though. -Loki Von Doom, from a world where the whole Cabal thing went very, VERY differently. The Token Evil teammate. The Stormborn, a collection of sons and daughters of Johnny Storm, from timelines where everyone’s favorite matchstick was killed by Doom. Said folks have therefore dedicated themselves to avenging their parent by hunting down and killing every single Doom in the Multiverse. -Namor Storm, the Human Geyser; leader of the team, son of Johnny and Namorita, named for his uncle. Has the standard human/Atlantean hybrid powerset, plus steam powers. -Agatha Evans-Storm, the Fantastic Witch; Johnny’s daughter with his OG girlfriend Dorrie Evans. Despite having a kid together, the issues that caused them to break up in 616 remained, and they separated, retaining joint custody of their daughter (who was named after her cousin Franklin’s nanny, who had recently died). Unlike her cousins she appeared to be totally normal. When she turned 13, however, she was kidnapped by Dr. Doom, who was on a magic kick and had discovered that being named after the old witch created a slight but distinct mystic connection that he could exploit as part of a plan to become the God of Witchcraft by ritually sacrificing her. She was saved, but at the cost of her father’s life. Also, she became a witch, and was subsequently apprenticed to Wanda. -Luna Storm, She-Serpent; from a world where Johnny left the FF to be with Crystal. Like her cousin Franklin, Luna is a mutant, with the power to control the weather, though it took people a bit to figure this out what with living on the Moon and all. Obviously, the subsequent history of the Inhumans was rather different, but a Terrigen Bomb was eventually released, and to everyone’s relief Luna managed to survive. She did turn into a winged snakewoman who breathes poisonous gas though, which kinda sucks. -Wyatt Storm, Speed-Hulk; Johnny and She-Hulk’s kid, named after Johnny’s BFF and Jen’s ex, Wyatt Wingfoot. As the name suggests, is a Hulk, and also a speedster. -JJ and Jeannie Storm, the Mutant Torch and Firebird; Johnny’s twin son and daughter with Rachel Summers (or Rachel Grey, whichever you prefer). They’re both Omega-class mutants like their mom; JJ is a teep, Jeannie is a teek, and they’re both pyrokinetic. Also, they can do that thing Aurora and Northstar or Fenris do, where they can become even more powerful by holding hands. -Jimmy Storm, the Human Robot; from a world where Roberta the Robot Receptionist was upgraded to sentience, and she and Johnny fell in love and got married. The one flaw in their marriage was the obvious inability to have children, and so for their second anniversary, Reed presented them with a child-form robot (named after the OG Human Torch) with an AI that was initially simple but designed to learn and grow in the way child would, albeit somewhat faster. The plan was to periodically upgrade him to simulate physical aging, but when he was two years old (though emotionally, intellectually, and in physical appearance being more like ten), Doom decided to launch a frontal assault on the Baxter Building, which involved destroying Roberta. Driven berserk by rage and grief, Johnny subsequently killed Doom, but was himself killed when Victor’s armor self-destructed, leaving Jimmy orphaned. That was ten years ago, and he has refused to change his appearance since. Like his mother, despite his harmless appearance, Jimmy is super-strong and tough, and possess a small arsenal of built-in weapons. -Ramonda Storm, the White Wolf; Johnny’s daughter with Shuri. Has no inherent powers (unless you count being able to consume the heart-shaped herb safely), but is a tactical/strategic genius on par with her Uncle T'Challa. When said uncle was injured and her Aunt Ororo killed by a Sentinel attack, she donned the long-abandoned ceremonial garb/vibranium-laced hi-tech suit of the White Wolf to assist her cousin Azari in tracking down and bringing to justice those responsible. You can imagine how she reacted when her own father was killed by Doom.

#Infinite Four #Fantastic Four #Marvel Comics #Fanfic #Marvel Fanfic

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threeletterslife · 4 years ago

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01 | Over the Moon

→ next chapter

→ summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you're left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You're not ready for that alone. Are you?

→ genre: 85% angst, 15% fluff | mafia!au

→ warnings: profanity, death, graphic depictions of murder/torture, mourning, drinking

�� wordcount: 11.6k

The whiteness of the room is blinding. The lights above are almost excruciating. But most of all, the silence is deafening. As if there's nothing alive and breathing in the room.

But there is.

The only visible signs of life are six men dressed clad in shades ranging from deep blue to black. They are standing completely motionless, but their faces are contorted with all kinds of emotions. Their expressions speak in anger, frustration and exasperation.

Some of them are panting quietly for breath—sounds that can only be heard if you have a sharp hearing. Others have perspiration dripping down their brows—none of them make a move to wipe it off. All are stiff in stance, glaring at one another through their cold, unnerving eyes.

There's no doubt about it—tension is in the air.

One man shifts his weight from his left foot to right. He clears his throat, straightening out his crisp, black suit in the process. "That's enough."

The tension is sliced in half. Chaos chases out the silence.

"What do you mean it's enough? I stand by my original opinion, and I'm not allowing the rest of you to distort it in any way."

"But it is enough, Namjoon. Sit down, will you? All of you."

There's the loud rustling of the men's slacks as they obediently take their seats. One man stays standing; he radiates power and dominance in his aura, staring down at those seated below him.

"I still don't think it's right, Boss," Namjoon tries again. "He wouldn't have wanted this at all." Namjoon wipes the excess sweat off his brow, shaking his head in disdain. He's in the spotlight, daring to voice his thoughts. "Granted, he wouldn't have wanted to die either, but look how things turned out."

"You're wrong, Namjoon," another man scoffs. He crosses his legs and glares at Namjoon. "He did want it. He said it in his goddamn will! Stop arguing with Jin, because frankly, he's the boss, not you!"

"Calm down, Hoseok," Seokjin sighs, shifting his weight on his other foot. "You are to address your superiors by their titles..." he trails off, brows furrowing as he becomes immersed in his thoughts.

"Fine," Hoseok huffs. "Underboss, I frankly think it's right to follow the exact words of his will. Why would he bother to write a will if we don't even heed to it?"

"Hoseok," Namjoon groans in frustration, "we need to interpret the will accordingly. I just don't think taking things too literally will help us. Yoongi? Some help here."

The man who had been leaning back casually in his chair coughs in surprise. "You were doing just fine," he mutters. "I think the underboss is right," Yoongi sighs. "We need to be pragmatic about this—"

"You and your fucking pragmatics," Hoseok spits out. "Let's face it. You two are the only ones with different opinions. Majority rules."

Yoongi doesn't answer. He suddenly takes a disinterest in the conversation and sinks back into his seat, refusing to speak. Namjoon takes the action as a sign to start his defense. "Jungkook and Taehyung barely count," he scoffs. "Jungkook follows everything Taehyung does and Taehyung follows everything the boss says—"

"Hey!" Taehyung yells, suddenly standing up from his seat. "You trying to call me and JK fucking backboneless?"

"I still think our opinions matter..." Jungkook frowns. "Boss?" He looks toward Seokjin for help, but Jin doesn't answer, lost in his own thoughts.

"I'm just saying what we're trying to do is obviously wrong," Namjoon argues.

"And you call yourself a lawyer?" Taehyung laughs scornfully. "Don't you think it's too fucking late to say what's right or wrong?"

"Show some respect to your underboss," Yoongi scolds. "And it's funny you're trying to talk morals, Taehyung. Need I remind you of your own sadistic antics?"

"Fuck you!"

"Let's not be so vulgar," Yoongi retorts.

"You know what? In the end, it's up to the boss to make the executive decision," Namjoon says, quirking his brow at an obviously fuming Hoseok and Taehyung. "So I suggest we all shut up and listen."

All eyes are on Seokjin, now, waiting for him to say something, anything. The man sighs, finally sitting down at his seat. He scans the eyes of the other men in the room, his own eyes cold and calculating.

"I say majority's right, this time," Seokjin declares. "We're down one man, morale is low and we need to fill the gap. If she's smart enough... as smart as him, we'll be in good hands."

"And if she isn't? We're putting a lot at risk," Namjoon says.

"The only risk we're putting in is the detrimental effect it'll have on your mentality," Jin replies. "You don't want her here because she'll remind you of him. You can't bear to have anyone that reminds you of him walking around our halls. I understand and respect that, Joon—" he takes a small breath "—but we need her help... As much as she needs our help."

"And how do you know she needs our help?" Yoongi challenges.

"Her brother's dead, and she doesn't even know."

Unemployment is the best and worst thing that's ever happened to you. Sure, you have no idea how you're going to spark the start of your career or how you're going to explain to your parents why your economics degree isn't paying off student debt. But you also have all the time in the world. All the time in the world to binge-watch your favorite TV shows, that is.

If your parents were here, you'd probably hear an earful from them. The "why can't you be more like your older brother?" type of shit. But the thing is, jokes on them, your brother's literally been MIA for a good six years now.

In fact, you've been covering for his poor ass ever since he decided to drop out of his prestigious college. (Which your parents still have yet to find out about.)

But you suspect they might never find out. First off, your parents are more than 6,000 miles away from you and your brother, so the only earful you get from them is on the phone. Second, they're calling less and less these days. Ever since you and your brother turned eighteen, they've been more lenient, suspecting both of you were CEO's of prospering law firms or hospitals. Third, you're a nasty good liar, something your brother had taught you very well.

You kind of miss him. He's the only blood relative you have in this country, anyway. Your parents are 6,563 miles away in South Korea, while you're stuck in the oh-so-jolly United States of America with your brother.

Then again, he was supposed to protect you, to care for you, ever since he and you had moved to California with your parent's best wishes for both of you to strive for a spectacular education. But to give him a bit of credit, your brother had been by your side since you were in seventh grade to your senior year in high school. And to give him even more (possibly undeserving) credit, he'd helpfully guided your hormonal thirteen-year-old self into the delights of American society when he was only fourteen, himself.

But he ditched you nevertheless, and you're all alone.

Well, you weren't completely alone, you suppose. Sure, your host family was okay, but they had never understood the perils of your teenage angst like your brother had. And besides, it's nearly been six years since you've moved out of your host family's home. You're truly alone now. With no one but sweet Netflix to solace you and coax you to wake up to a new day.

You and your brother are probably the biggest disappointments to your parents, ever. Technically, this time, your brother's the bigger disappointment (for once) because at least you got your master's degree in economics. Your brother never even showed up to his first college class.

God knows where the fuck that man is.

Sure, he always sends you ungodly amounts of money every month—you suspect he's made himself a goddamn CEO of some obscure company—but you would very much rather have his presence than his money.

As much as you're bitter from his unexplained absence in your life, you still desperately want to be in contact again. And he did help you find your passion for economics in the first place.

It's funny because you always thought your brother would hit it big and become some world-wide famous brain surgeon; he'd always been the smarter one of the two of you. Well, your brother was smart, but he definitely wasn't smart enough to control his stupid infatuation with the mafia. And once your brother becomes passionate, there's no fucking way out.

The last you remember, he had been conducting intense research about the most notorious mafia bosses of the 1900s. One time, he'd made you memorize all the positions in the original Italian mafia—you'd given up after he tried to make you spell out 'consigliere.' Another time, between the summer of his high school junior year and senior year, he'd tried to convince your host family to fund his “educational, enlightening and beneficial' trip to Sicily, where 'the original mafia was founded.' ” His words, not yours.

He was insane, that brother of yours.

The worst part was that somehow he'd managed to find friends that would help fuel his idiotic passion for the mafia. Damn his excellent social skills (that you very much lack). Honestly, if you had his brain, you would've definitely not wasted it on researching deadly gangs.

But his friends became your friends and that was that. Except they had all left you in pursuit of something that definitely wasn't education.

At this point, you wouldn't be surprised if your brother disappeared only to continue his crazed mafia research with his best friends. Maybe he's lying undercover somewhere like the total goof that he is, trying to sniff out LA's most notorious criminal gangs. It's a thought that makes you scoff every time.

He should be twenty-four right now, just a year older than you. He should still be in school, getting the proper education you and your parents expected him to get. But noooo, he just had to go off to do his own thing. And now you're left to make excuses for him on the phone.

Last week was your mother's birthday, and when she asked you where the hell your brother was, you had to make up some intricate lie that he had to attend a doctor conference.

Whatever. At least that dumb bastard sends you a generous monthly allowance. You have better problems than to scrounge around looking for your brother—who, you may politely add, is a grown-ass man.

You're twenty-three, unemployed, single as fuck and lost in this vast nation of supposed opportunity. You need to find out what to do with yourself first before looking for your brother. In fact, you should probably stop watching Netflix this instant.

You should probably get dressed and get out there to greet the world with your unemployed status in hopes of landing a stable job your parents would approve of.

And so, as a woman of your word, you do just that.

You're in the middle of looking for your purse when someone knocks on the flimsy door to your apartment.

Weird. You don't usually get visitors.

Ditching the effort to find your purse, you stumble over to the door, trying to peek out of a small hole you've been telling yourself you had to fix for the past three months. But that attempt is futile. The hole that you had always convinced yourself was noticeably large was obviously not large enough for you to discern anything on the other side of that damn door.

You sigh. If it's some murderer out in the middle of the day ready to stab me to death, at least I won't have to pay off my damned student debt.

But you digress. When you open the door, to your slight disappointment, you don't see a murderer. In fact, you see two people—two vaguely familiar people.

"Jungkook? Taehyung?"

"Hey, Y/N," Taehyung smiles.

"Hi." Jungkook waves shyly from behind his friend.

You stare at them, shellshocked and frozen. You haven't seen Jungkook and Taehyung since your brother decided to jump out of your life. They are the subject of vague memories of laughter and good times shared that you'd pushed to the back of your mind as time passed.

You figured Jimin's decision to quit college had something to do with his friends. And now here they were.

"Is Jimin with you?" you ask, unamused and definitely not returning the friendly smiles.

"Ah, that would be a no... Well, as of now, no, at least." Taehyung shrugs. "We've actually been looking for you."

"Oh?" You raise your eyebrows. "Really? Because I've been looking for you. Well, not you, but um my brother actually. Park Jimin? I hope you've heard of him."

Jungkook chuckles softly. "Haven't changed much, huh?"

"I guess." You cock your head, brows furrowing as you think. "So... do you want to come in?"

"Sure!" Taehyung grins, marching right into your humble abode with Jungkook right by his heels. "Nice place, by the way," he comments, looking around at your rather neatly organized living room.

"Thanks," you mutter, closing the door. Taehyung and Jungkook have already made themselves at home on your couch. "So... did my brother set you up to do this? He usually sends letters when he mails me the monthly allowance, but that lazy ass hasn't even been doing that these days... Is he busy?"

Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head. "Jumping right to the chase, huh? Not even a hello? Or a 'how are you doing, Taehyung?' C'mon, don't you miss us? We hung out a lot as kids, remember? The whole lot of us. Right, JK?"

"Right, Tae."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "All of you left me."

"We're sorry," Jungkook replies almost immediately. "We didn't mean to ditch you or anything..."

"Yeah? Well, that's exactly what you did," you say. "Just... Where the fuck is Jimin?"

"Damn since when did you fucking cuss?" Taehyung snorts and not to mention totally ignores your question. "Has it really been that long?"

"Answer my question, Kim Taehyung."

The man raises his eyebrows but speaks. "He's not here, Y/N," Taehyung sighs. "Um... but, it looks like you're doing fine without him, you know? Lookin' good." He grins goofily, saluting to you, but you're unamused yet again.

"Why are you guys even here? I honestly could've sworn you were dead just by how MIA you were."

"Ah... that's..." Jungkook looks down at his feet.

"It's about Jimin, actually," Taehyung blurts out, standing up.

"Oh, lord," you mumble. "What kind of trouble is he in, this time? Do I need to bail him out of jail?"

"Listen," Taehyung says. He stands up, his previous silly demeanor replaced with a serious one. "We... Well, you have to come with us."

You raise an eyebrow. "Just because I was friends with you six years prior doesn't mean I'll spontaneously follow you to wherever."

"But Jimin's waiting for you!" Taehyung exclaims. "Don't you want to see your brother?"

"Well, of course... but—"

"Listen, sweetheart," Taehyung sighs. "You—"

"No, YOU, listen," you interject, raising up your hand. "You can't just expect me to waltz back into my brother's life again. He... well, all of you, ditched me for a reason. I don't know what happened for all of you to change your minds but..." You sigh. "Besides, if Jimin's waiting for me, why didn't he come himself?"

"He's not in the best condition, you know? He's gone down with some cold, and we don't want him to get worse now, do we?" Taehyung says. "We know it's been six years, Y/N. Don't you think that's all the more reason to come visit us? We've missed you, after all."

"Just one, small, quick trip to our house," Jungkook says, fidgeting with his hands. "You'll meet everyone else there! It'll be like a reunion."

You blow air out through your nose. "Like the old days," you mumble.

"Like the old days!" Taehyung exclaims.

"Jimin's not in the best condition, huh? He was always so susceptible to the weakest of viruses," you shake your head. "And you guys have been living together without me? Some kind of family."

"We didn't want to bother your studies," Jungkook says. "Jimin, Taehyung and I all dropped out of college, and Jimin didn't want to become a bad influence on you."

"Right..." you say, eyebrows crinkling in thought.

"But you've graduated, right?" Taehyung asks.

"Right."

"So come and visit us!"

You tilt your head sideways, staring into Jungkook and Taehyung's eyes until Jungkook looks away. You and Taehyung have the longest staring contest before you blink first. "I'm not going to contract whatever Jimin has, right?"

Taehyung grins. "I hope not."

"Fine." You sigh, rubbing your forehead. It can't hurt to visit your long lost brother. Maybe you can give him an earful and convince him to contact your parents. Maybe you can convince him to stop pushing you away? "I'll go."

Jungkook and Taehyung look as genuine as they did back when you had been close friends with them. And besides, if they wanted to murder you for whatever reason, they would've already done it. So you shrug and walk towards the front door. The purse you'd been looking for catches your eye; it had been wedged between some dirty old shoes. Picking it up, you turn to Jungkook and Taehyung. "We're not going to walk, are we?"

"Of course not," Taehyung snorts, catching up to you and opening the door for you as you walk out. "See that car over there? The nice, red sports car?"

"Yeah, is yours the minivan behind it?" you genuinely ask.

Jungkook giggles. "Actually, the red sports car is ours."

"What?" you deadpan. Dropped out of college, my ass.

"Well..." Taehyung snorts, helping you down your own steps. You protest by swatting his hand away, but he insists and persists. "Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok and Yoongi make the big bucks."

"Really?"

Jungkook opens the shotgun car door for you. "Yeah! Here, you can take the shotgun seat while Taehyung drives it responsibly back. No speeding, there's a lady present."

You snort, sliding into the nice leather seat. "Thanks."

"No problem," Taehyung grins, making himself comfortable in his own driver's seat as Jungkook takes the back for himself. "It'll be a forty-minute drive, so we better get all comfortable here."

"Um, yeah. I can think of several questions on the spot," you say, strapping yourself in just in time before Taehyung speeds off.

"Ask away!" Taehyung chirps.

"First off, what on earth do you guys do to afford this kind of car? Shouldn't some of you be drowning in student debt?"

"Namjoon's a lawyer," Jungkook pipes in. "Hoseok's a surgeon, Yoongi's an anesthesiologist and Jin's a head chef at some famous place he owns."

"Talk about successful..." you trail off. "What about everyone else?"

"Eh, school's disgusting," Taehyung chuckles. "I'm a waiter at Seokjin's restaurant and JK here's a cop."

"But that's better than being unemployed, though," you sigh. "What's Jimin been up to?"

"He's a bartender," Taehyung says. "Got pretty damn good at it too."

"Bartending, huh? Never really thought he'd be into that. Last time I saw him, he was obsessed with the mafia. Guess it's bartending now, huh?"

Jungkook laughs. "Yeah, I guess."

The conversation flows nicely after that. You ask question after question and Jungkook and Taehyung give you answer after answer. And by the end of the forty-minute drive, it's as if they never left you. You had been the closest to them in your childhood, anyway. You almost forgot how good it feels to have quality talks with your childhood friends. In fact, you kinda forgot what it's like to have a friend, so this was a nice change.

"Hey, we're here," Taehyung smiles. "Home sweet home."

"We're in front of a wall," you deadpan as Jungkook snickers in the backseat.

"It's a gate, silly," Taehyung snorts. "Just gotta punch in a code..." His fingers move lightning fast across a keypad, and suddenly the wall is separating, creating a small space for the fancy car to drive right through.

Your mouth drops open when you see the house, er, mansion, that's before you. "That's your house?"

"Home sweet home," Taehyung chuckles. He parks the car in front of the elaborate steps that lead to a large, white door. "Hold on," he tells you as he hurriedly gets out only to open the car door for you on the other side.

"Thanks." You get out of the car, unable to take your eyes off of the beautiful mansion. "I've been missing out..."

"You have," Jungkook grins teasingly.

"C'mon, everyone's waiting inside!" Taehyung calls from the top step. God knows when he'd sprinted up those stairs.

A sudden wave of relief crashes over you. It's been six years. Six fucking years. Now you can finally see your brother. You don't like to admit it. You rarely end up admitting it. In fact, you don't think you've ever admitted it.

But you look up to your older brother with all your heart. And you're more than elated to see him again for the first time in half a dozen years.

The moment Taehyung opens the grand, wide doors to the even more grandiose mansion, you sprint in without a moment of hesitation.

You're greeted by white marble floors, a crystal chandelier and an occupied glass dining table. Four familiar faces stare at your excited self. They've grown. The boys you practically grew up with, that is. Their faces becoming sharper, highlighting their features and their once wide, childish eyes, squinted and emotionless... Something about the way they sit elegantly on the dining chairs sets you off. And you can't really pinpoint what.

There's Seokjin with a new hairstyle that makes him look like a rich billionaire (and judging by the mansion you might even be right on your judgment). Then there's Namjoon who's lost all of his baby fat, his eyebrows creased slightly and his legs crossed casually. Hoseok's dressed to the nines, gold rings encompassing his fingers. Even Yoongi too... The kid who had used to be shy and awkward looks like he could murder a man with his gaze alone.

Your smile drops as you realize the person you wanted to see the most is missing from the mix.

"Where's Jimin? Is he in bed?"

Hoseok gives you a strange look before turning to Taehyung. "What did you tell her?"

That one little question makes your heart drop. You should've known Taehyung spits out lies easier than he blinks. You should've called him out on his bullshit the moment you had doubts.

Jungkook gives you a nervous look before he pushes out one of the dining chairs for you. You frown, looking between Jungkook and the chair incredulously.

"Please, Y/N, it's been a while. Sit down, make yourself comfortable," Seokjin soothes. "Everything will make sense soon." He gestures for you to take the empty chair, which was conveniently placed between his seat and Namjoon's.

You raise your eyebrows. "Jin? What...? What's going on? Joon?" you question, turning your eyes to the man who had known your brother the best. Namjoon averts his eyes, leaving you stranded in your own confusion.

"You didn't tell her anything?" Yoongi sighs. "The truth, I mean?"

"Why would we?" Taehyung defends sharply. But when Hoseok glares daggers into his head, Taehyung looks down at his feet.

It chills your blood to see your old-time friends like this. Cold, distant... serious. When you were younger, there wasn't a hint of tension at all between the eight of you. Now tension is all you see.

"Jungkook, fetch the document, please," Jin sighs, running a hand through his otherwise well-combed hair. "How have you been, Y/N? Getting by? Jimin always made sure to send you some money..." he trails off, giving you a small smile.

You watch as Jungkook scampers off, like a dog with his tail between his legs. Something just wasn't right.

"Y/N?" Jin asks, softly.

"Taehyung said Jimin's sick," you stupidly say. "I hope you guys haven't been condoning him to get in trouble."

"Not even a 'hello,'" Jin chuckles.

"Where is he?" you demand. You're getting a bad gut feeling and your eyes fleetingly glance at the doors behind you.

Jin notices your hesitation, smiling at you warmly. "Hey... hey, I'm still the same Seokjin you knew... You're safe here, Y/N."

"What do you mean, safe?" you accuse. "Are you implying that I wasn't safe before?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions," Hoseok snorts.

"Let the girl ask. She's confused, can't you see?" Namjoon bites back. "Things will make sense in a bit, all right?"

"Why doesn't it make sense now?"

Jin smiles patiently. "You see... it's a bit... complicated, Y/N. But we promise you, you'll be safe."

"Safe from what? Is Jimin that sick? Is he in the hospital? Shouldn't we go there right n—"

A document falls on the table, right in front of your seat, shutting you up. You freeze when you catch sight of the text.

"What is this?" you ask in a tiny voice as your body suddenly becomes cold. You laugh nervously and with shaky hands, you bring the document closer to you to inspect it. To see if your eyes weren't fooling you. "You're pulling my leg. This isn't what I think it is."

"Oh but it is," Hoseok sighs.

"Shut up," Namjoon commands. "Y/N... I'm sorry."

"W-What do you mean?" you breathe. "You expect me to believe this? This is bullshit. What do you mean you're sorry?"

Deny it. That's it. Be in denial. There can't be one single reason that that's true.

But the letters don't lie. You can't look away from the writing in a large, clear font, scrawled across the very top of the document. Last Will & Testament of Park Jimin.

Someone puts a warm hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. "Please, read the will first," Jin says. "We'll explain everything. I'm sorry, Y/N. We all are..."

You clear your obviously dry throat. "No," you say as clearly as you can though you notice the hesitation and inconsistency in your voice. "You can't expect me to believe this. If you're going to play games with me, I'll get going. I didn't come here for a prank. I actually came here to see my brother."

You're about to push your chair away to stand up, but someone places a hand on the back of it, obstructing you from leaving. You look up to glare at this rude someone only to see Jungkook. He gives you an apologetic glance before moving to block your view to the entrance entirely.

"Let me go," you say through gritted teeth.

Seokjin shakes his head before looking you dead in the eyes. "Y/N... We're sorry."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Sorry that you don't know where my brother is too? You didn't have to cover it with his fake death."

"Are you stupid? You must be an idiot!" Hoseok sighs in exasperation. He taps his fingers impatiently on the table. "I'm done playing with your denial game. Face it. Your brother's dead, Y/N. Read his goddamn will before I lose my patience and read it out for you."

You stare blankly at Hoseok. "Dead?"

"Hoseok," Seokjin warns. "Y/N... I know you may have your doubts, but you have to trust us. That document... Jimin would've wanted you to read it."

"Stop," you command. The room spins and frankly, you feel a bit sick. "Stop acting like he's already dead. There's just... there's no way. He's twenty-four! He can't be dead now." You run your hands through your hair, feeling distressed and out of your mind. "He never even said goodbye to me..." you mutter. "He would've said goodbye." You shake your head. Tears that you didn't even know were there start to drip down your face. "I don't believe any of this."

"We can show you the body if you'd like," Hoseok shrugs. "But we don't want to do that now, do we?"

"You're serious."

"We wish we weren't, Y/N... We're sorry," Jin says. And he does look really apologetic. "Please... just read the will, and I promise I'll explain the rest to the best of my ability."

You're completely shell-shocked to silence.

There's no way he's dead. If he had been terminal or something, he would've said... He should've said something in his letters. It's not possible. I haven't seen him in person for six years. It can't end like that. And to hear this from his best friends?

Taehyung puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, tugging the will closer to you. He slowly picks it up, helping you grip onto the single piece of paper. At that moment, you come so close to ripping it apart to shreds. That damn will was the only solid proof you had of your brother's death. No will? No death.

But you know things don't work as linearly as that.

"You might have doubts, Y/N. And I understand," Seokjin soothes. "I know how hard it is to be on the receiving end of news like this. And I get that you haven't seen Jimin in years. You might even feel like you can't feel a difference when he was alive and when he's gone... I know that might scare you at the moment. And I know that's pushing you into denial, Y/N. But we brought you here for a reason... So, please. Give us another chance and read the will. Your brother would've wanted that. Most of what's on there is for you, anyway."

You feel numb. And you hate it. You hate that Seokjin's right. Jimin could've died a year ago, and you wouldn't have known; you wouldn't have felt a difference. Apparently, Jimin's dead now, and you still can't seem to bring yourself to fall to the floor and grieve like you mean it. You just feel twisted inside. Like you drank a glass of spoiled milk. But you can't seem to grasp the concept of your brother's apparent death. How can you when he was basically dead to you for six years? What difference did it make? He never contacted you anyway. If he really was dead, you wouldn't feel a difference at all.

God. You hate yourself for thinking about these things.

At this point, the sad, confused, frustrated and angry tears blind your vision, but you're able to make out the image of someone reaching across the table to hand you a tissue. You accept it gladly, wiping the tears with the best of your ability. Looking up, you see Yoongi, his stare completely blank and his hands holding out the tissue box for you. "Thank you..." you whisper, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

Then you finally let your eyes gravitate to the document. You've been gripping it so hard with your sweaty, shaky hands that the once clean, straight paper is slightly crumpled and damp. But that's the least of your problems.

Besides the printed title, the rest of the will is even in his handwriting. The scrawl is neat and in slight cursive—you can recognize Jimin's writing anywhere.

Your wet eyes take in every word your brother etched onto the paper with black ink. It's strange to read something so solemn, so straightforward from your lively, passionate brother. The will isn't long, but you take the time to reread every sentence, mulling over every word.

It isn't much, actually. Just states who gets what... And it seems like you've inherited everything he owned. Which, contrary to the mansion he lived in, wasn't much.

Unreal. This whole situation feels like a nightmare. And maybe you are asleep, and your mind is playing your greatest worries against you? You're praying to wake up any second.

But you never wake up, and the nightmare drowns you deeper as you come across the next line in the will:

If, by somewhat likely chances, I was murdered, I trust that Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook will take care of Park Y/N in their home; if my death was through natural causes, the following men should quietly send Y/N her inheritance.

You reread the sentence again. Then again. And again. You pull the paper closer to your eyes, hands shaking as you do so.

Maybe I misread it. Maybe I...

But you hadn't misread it. The line stays the same as your eyes painfully cross it every time, a part of you breaking off and withering away by each glance.

You feel dull. Shocked, yes, but already numb. Your thoughts are a jumbled up mess. There are so many questions, but you can't make out coherent words. Such a shame... You usually always know what to say.

If... If my brother had died through 'natural causes,' which I'm guessing pertains to illnesses... then I wouldn't be here. I would've gotten my inheritance with no strings attached. The fact that I'm here... Murder? My brother thought it was a somewhat likely chance that he would be murdered??

It's so crazy that there's no way anyone would be making it up. You can feel the shadow of doubt limping away. And what's left makes you feel more vulnerable than ever. Being able to read that will too... It was like an eye-opener. A call to you that Jimin was really dead. Whether you believe it or not.

"You need explanations, huh?" Seokjin sighs, nodding. He puts a warm, comforting hand on top of yours, but you're so cold, so far gone, you can barely even feel it. "Hey, hey..." he says softly. "Y/N?"

You're nodding through tears. "I don't know what to believe," you finally admit in defeat. "I don't even know why I'm crying. I'm just confused."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I understand. It's a lot to take in. And..." he hesitates. "It's going to be a lot more to take in as well..." He looks at you cautiously to see how you're coping. And you seem to be doing better than he had expected because he continues on. "I need you to listen to me very closely and not let doubt or denial of any sort to block me out, alright?"

Seokjin rubs soft circles into the back of your hand as you nod very slowly. Yoongi hands you another tissue. (Almost as if he was preparing you for a huge breakdown.)

"Listen, I'm going to be very frank," Jin says.

He's treading water, you notice.

"You've heard of the gangs around LA, right?"

You frown. "What?" That was the last thing you expected to come out of Seokjin's mouth. Though a bit bewildered, you nod. "Of course I have. The brutal murders, the shootings, the stupid territory fist fights..." You trail off when the realization hits you. "J-Jimin... He... He didn't mess with them, did he?"

Your heart sinks in your chest when Jin doesn't answer right away.

"He was always so obsessed with the mafia. He didn't just follow them and get in trouble, did he? He's not that stupid, right? Please, Jin, please say something. Tell me that isn't true." You sound pathetic even to yourself, but you can't help it.

Now it seems believable. It's entirely conceivable that your brother had been murdered by some malicious gang members for sticking his nose in their business. And you don't know what to make of this new information.

"Well," Jin sighs. He softly grabs your hand, and his warmth makes you feel just a little bit calmer. "It's partly true..."

"God," you groan, pulling your hands away from his and burying your face into them.

"We're in a gang, actually."

The spoken sentence shatters you. "Come again?"

"We're the mafia, Y/N. Your brother... all of us."

It sounds so preposterous, you almost scoff. But you don't. Jin had told you to trust him, and insanely enough, you were instinctively doing just that. Besides, the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. God, it explains so much. And the color drains from your face as everything clicks. That would explain the ungodly amounts of money Jimin had sent every month. That would explain the mansion. The crazy good jobs half of them are holding despite being so young. It would explain why your seven best friends had left you—probably on Jimin's account because he definitely wouldn't have wanted you to be affected. It even explains why these six men in front of you aren't anything like the six boys you had spent your childhood with. Why they look so cold, ruthless... intimidating.

And you thought you were dragged here to see your brother. Ironic.

"How seriously are you involved?" you ask carefully.

"Seriously enough," Namjoon answers. "Seriously enough for it to kill your brother, that is."

You frown at that. "I feel obligated to believe all of this," you sigh. "I don't want to believe any of it too—"

"Do you really think we'd be lying?" Hoseok sighs.

"What else would you think?" you bite back. "I think I have every right to be incredulous at the moment."

"Of course you have every right to be 'incredulous,'" Hoseok says. "But you'd better save it for later. See, honey, we're the mafia. One of the many affluent gangs in this city, you understand? Two and a half days ago, your brother was murdered by an enemy gang member or two, and we have yet to figure out which gang and who in the gang..." He sighs deeply, raising an eyebrow at you. "We've recovered the body, but I don't think you'll recognize it anyway... That doesn't matter. What does is that your brother wants you to join us now that he's dead. Living in this house would mean your blood is with us."

You feel tipsy again. Dizzy. Nauseous. Numb.

"You ruined everything," Namjoon accuses, glaring at Hoseok.

You steady yourself by gripping the edge of your chair. "I think I need to leave," you finally say after a long pause.

Just walk away. Pretend as if nothing happened. Maybe in due time, you'll forget everything that had just unfolded in this room.

"Ohh, you wouldn't want to do that, sweetheart," Taehyung murmurs.

You raise a challenging eyebrow at him. "I can do what I want. Need I remind you that all of you kept me in the dark for years. And the moment you need me, you decide to call me over for whatever reason despite the fact that I don't want to be involved at all. And if all of this is true, that also means you let Jimin get murdered. I'm not going to join your gang—if it even exists. I'm out."

You force your chair back, nearly stepping on Jungkook's toes as you stumble away from the crystal table. Muttering a quick apology to the sad-looking man, you quickly turn on your heels before making a dash to the exit.

Just as you're about to heave the large doors open, a loud voice commands you to stop. And you do, just for a little while, meeting Hoseok's eyes. "I'm going to walk away like this never happened. I'd appreciate it if I'm never contacted again."

Hoseok scoffs. "Not a good choice. The moment you leave those doors and walk out of our territory, you're in danger. Do you really want to die as painfully as he did?"

"Hoseok..." Seokjin warns.

But Hoseok pays no mind, rolling his eyes. "It looks like they jumped him while he was unsuspecting."

You freeze.

"He had no weapons on him. We checked. Completely defenseless. They duct-taped his arms and legs together like a helpless animal so he couldn't move. Then, they beat him, crumpled up his body until bruises blossomed and bones broke. Pulled out a few fingernails and teeth. But slowly. One at a time. Managed to damage a few organs as well... Internal bleeding was pretty bad," Hoseok pauses, staring at you with a cold, hard look in his eyes. "Then they forced rubbing alcohol down his throat... and duct-taped his mouth shut."

Your legs shake so hard, they give out. Your body hits the cold, marble floor, but you don't feel the impact in your bones.

"And do you know how he died?" Hoseok says. "You would think from blood loss... or a concussion." He stares at you as if he were expecting you to nod your head and answer to a degree. When he realizes you're shocked frozen, he sighs. "Your brother asphyxiated in his own vomit. Had to examine it myself, actually. And Yoongi would tell you the exact same thing."

Now it seems too real.

The last image you have of your brother was when he was eighteen. And that's the image of Jimin you played in your head when Hoseok had painted the vivid pictures of your brother's murder. The innocent, passionate, caring person you'd known. Gone. Just like that. And in such a cruel, inhumane way.

It hurts in a way you've never hurt before.

"Y/N, you see?" Taehyung sighs. He walks over to you, holding out his hand to help you up. When you make no move to take it, he forces you up himself, carrying your frozen, shell-shocked body back to the dining table. He carefully places you back on the chair like you're a fragile doll and speaks, "Whoever killed him might be after you. Jimin's made quite a lot of enemies who would do anything to kill him and his family. And you're the only family he has in America."

"Your brother wants... wanted you to be safe. We want to respect that, Y/N..." Jin soothes. "For Jimin, don't you think?"

"For Jimin?" you whisper, shaking with fear, grief, anger. "For Jimin?!" The tears are drowning your face again. "You're going to use that against me? None of us knew what Jimin wanted! You can't just assume what anyone wants! He's dead! He's... dead. Only he would know what he wanted, but he's gone..." You sob, your fists shaking with overwhelming emotion. "I just miss him," you whisper. "Ah, thanks," you mutter quietly when Yoongi hands you the third tissue of the day.

"We all miss him," Jin says. "We also understand your grief, Y/N. We're not your enemies, alright? We're on your side, and we're here to help you. I know things seem dubious at the moment. I apologize but I'd like to stay true to Jimin's last wishes. The will speaks what he wants, and we're merely acting on that. But we won't force you to join our little gang...

"We want to give you time to make your final decisions while also keeping you safe in the meantime. You're welcome to stay while you decide. We're not horrible men, Y/N. We wouldn't force a resolution out of you if you're not in the right mental state."

"A-And if I walk out right now?" you challenge.

"That'll be beyond what we can handle. We can't promise your safety outside of our territory, Y/N... But yes, you may walk out right this second. No judgment, no troubles... from us, that is."

"I... I need time, Jin. I can't do this right now." Even to yourself, you sound defeated.

"Hey... It's alright. Here, I'll guide you to the room you'll stay in..."

God, they had it all planned out, didn't they?

You look at the magnificent doors behind you. And for just a split second, you contemplate leaving. But you can't. Not when these people are the only people left. With your brother gone, your parents, oh god, your parents, thousands of miles away... The only people you have left are your childhood friends.

Childhood friends that are apparently associated with the mafia. And you were incredulous in the beginning, but the more you watch how the six of them acted, how they carried themselves... You would be crazy not to believe they were in the mafia.

And as Jin places a comforting hand on the small of your back as he leads you to the room you'll be staying in for who knows how long, you can't help but wonder if Jimin, the sweet, caring and enthusiastic person you knew had changed like his friends.

The Jimin you knew wouldn't hurt a fly.

Now, you're not so sure.

The hallways of the mansion are elaborately decorated with aureate designs and classic paintings. The expensiveness of your surroundings makes you feel even more at unease. Are you making the right choice? Can you trust these six men? Is it too late to back away? Would your brother have wanted this?

A stranger to your panicked thoughts, Jin steadily guides you further into the mansion. Though the twists and turns of the hallways are confusing to you, he seems to know them quite well. Finally, he comes to a stop in front of a white door.

"Your room's on the other side, Y/N," Jin says, giving you a small smile. "There's no pressure at all deciding where you want to go. But in the meantime, I hope you can be comfortable here. If you need anything, ask Jungkook or Taehyung, alright?"

You nod, dumbly. "I can stay here as long as I want?"

"Until you make your decision," Jin says. "So, in a way, yes. You can stay here as long as it takes to make your decision."

You nod again, unable to come up with an answer of any sort. Jin notices your slight hesitation and puts a comforting arm on your shoulder.

"I know it's been a lot to take in, Y/N... And I'm personally sorry we didn't reach out to you beforehand... But it'll be like the old times, I promise."

"In the old times, we were a family," you mutter.

"We still are."

You make an unsatisfied grunt, shaking your head. "I don't think I was ever part of that family."

Gingerly, Jin turns you around to face him. Though you admit you're being a bit difficult at the moment (and rightfully so), he doesn't look frustrated at all. He crouches down, putting his hands on your shoulders, shaking his head and giving you a kind smile.

"You were always a part of the family, Y/N," Jin soothes. "But think of your alienation from us as an act of safety precaution. Believe me, the rest of us did want to tell you about our... involvement, but Jimin didn't want to put you in any danger. Especially when you were busy trying to follow the path to your career. And eventually, we all agreed with that reasoning. It's dangerous work as you may understand. You have to be completely set on involvement if you want to be a part of it. I know you're probably thinking why we would ask you to join if it's so hazardous... But at this point, it'd be more hazardous to let you go, and Jimin wouldn't have wanted that..." He trails off, checking your face as if to check your emotions. But you've managed to keep a stoic look, though internally, your emotions are a mess.

"I want to apologize for dragging you into this mess, Y/N," Jin sighs. "But back when we were teenagers... Lost and confused in a new country... Feeling and looking like aliens, we were together. We were a family. And now's the chance for us to reunite, don't you think? Jimin would be happy..."

You flinch at the mention of your brother's name. "I... I just..." You're at a loss of words, eyes turning wet with emotion. "Give me time, please," you manage to mutter. "I need time."

"Yeah," Jin says, softly. "Of course."

He lets go of your shoulders, giving you space as he steps back. "Jungkook will come later to escort you to dinner, but other than that, we'll try not to bother you..."

"I don't think I'll be hungry," you say. How could you? It'd be wrong to have an appetite at a moment like this. Your skin still crawls at the vivid descriptions of your brother's demise by Hoseok. With a final sympathetic look from Jin, you enter the room, closing the door behind you.

You take a few, uncertain steps in. The room has sort of a musty smell to it, though it looks well-cleaned and organized. Without a second thought, you push the light gray drapes aside to reveal a large window. You open it to breathe in the fresh air. It calms your insides much more than you expected it would.

With a newly rejuvenated mind, you take a few steps backward until you're situated in the middle of the rather commodious room, taking in your surroundings. But upon closer examination, your heart plummets.

This room...

You slowly slide to your knees, looking helplessly at the decorations on the walls, the pictures in the frames, the drawings, the polaroid photos...

A familiar face looks back at you, grinning happily. Inside that pictured photograph is a younger version of yourself. It's you and Jimin arm in arm. You remember that moment exactly. It had been on your fourteenth birthday. Jimin had gifted you a polaroid camera, which you had forced Seokjin to take a photo with.

Next to the wall of polaroid photos capturing sweet moments you shared with your brother and his six friends is a familiar drawing. It's the piece of artwork you drew when you were very young. Before you and Jimin had moved to America. It's a colorful marker drawing of the Park family. You had falsely drawn your older brother shorter than you because he had been annoying you that day. And at the time, Jimin had gotten pissed with your petty antics... But as years passed, you remember he cherished that piece of artwork. And now it had ended up in this place...

A broken sob escapes your trembling lips when you realize this is his room.

How cruel that they have placed you here. In a room that would bring back memories of him.

Or maybe they thought this would help. Maybe they thought you could connect with your dead brother again.

All you can feel is cold inside. The Park Jimin you had used to love and look up to might not be the same man who had lived in this room. He'd changed. And so had his friends.

But you still find yourself staring at the decorated walls—too afraid to go and touch the photographs and paintings that hold so much memory—yet not afraid enough to ignore them completely.

Recalling your childhood wasn't too bad. It'd been pretty great, actually. Well, aside from the fact that you didn't exactly have parents to guide you in your teenage years. It's scary how much of a presence Jimin and his friends have in your past. You'd celebrated every birthday with them. Went to every high school party with them. Had Sunday night movie marathons with them. You'd known them all almost like the back of your hand (maybe even better because you don't like to look at your hands).

Indulging in the past is therapeutic. Until you arrive at the present, that is. And the future becomes a mystery.

What the hell will you do without your brother? And if what Seokjin was saying was true... and you're actually at the risk of being brutally murdered, then wouldn't it be better to stay behind the safety of the walls that your 'friends' offered to provide you?

Your mind is jumbled up with all kinds of thoughts. When everything happens too fast, you have a hard time getting back on your feet. You need time. Time to think. Time to mull over the pros and cons. To dissect your thoughts completely before acting recklessly on them.

You're not too sure of what to think. But you are sure of a couple of things. Your brother really was dead. There was no lie behind that. You'd seen the will... his last wishes... his handwriting... heard of the graphic way he was killed... And some deep feeling inside you knows. Two and a half days ago, you'd felt shitty for no reason. Then, you had thought it was something you ate. But now, you realize maybe that had been the universe's fucked up way of signaling to you that your brother was struggling to hang on to his last seconds of life.

You're also sure that you're angry. Angry at whatever bastard that murdered Jimin. And if it had happened in a way that Hoseok had so vividly colored in your imagination, you wish his murderer would die as painfully as he did. Revenge. Maybe that's what you want.

But you can't take vengeance all by yourself. You're just some average Korean-American young adult who's trying to please her parents who are back in her home country. You need help. And Jin had offered you help...

Those six boys are all you have left in this vast country.

But they're dangerous, another part of you argues. They're actually part of the mafia.

Your mind takes you back to the moment when Hoseok had so blatantly told you how your brother had been killed. He hadn't even flinched as he spoke such gruesome details that had made your skin crawl and breaths quicken. In fact, none of the boys had looked truly sad about your brother's death.

You fist your hair in frustration. I don't know what to do. You stare blankly at the portrait photo of you and Jimin with the other boys. Maybe staring at the inanimate Jimin will give you answers...?

You have no idea how long you've been staring and thinking when there's a soft knock on your door. Though the sound is nothing close to a disturbing racket, it is still a rude awakening to your thoughts.

You clear your throat before answering, "Yes?"

"May I come in?"

You recognize that voice as Jungkook's. Soft, curious and intuitive. "Yeah, sure," you say, making sure to wipe the residue of your tears away.

You can feel his presence, though your back is turned to him. He seems cautious, watchful as he slowly walks towards you. Finally, you turn around to face him. "What are you here for?"

Jungkook laughs quietly. He takes his leisure as he closes the window, and the room suddenly feels warm again. "Don't want you catching a cold," he mumbles, glancing at you before smiling cordially. "I'm here to escort you to dinner."

Right. Jin had told you about this.

It looks like Jungkook had changed his clothes. A more casual wear consisting of gray sweatpants and a hoodie. He looks like any normal guy you could find in America. It chills you that he's involved in a gang. Looks deceive.

"I don't have much of an appetite. Sorry," you say unapologetically. "I haven't made a decision either if that's what you want me to mention." Jungkook seems taken aback by your candidness, but you shrug. "May I please be alone? I need time..."

"I wasn't going to mention your decision," Jungkook says. He looks a bit sad you turned him down, but he begins to leave the room. "Just thought you'd be hungry... It's been more than six hours since you've come here."

"I know," you say. "I'm not hungry, though. I'm fine."

Jungkook nods dejectedly, "Alright. Have a nice night." He gives you a semi-worried look before he saunters away, closing your door lightly.

You breathe a sigh of relief when he's gone, releasing the tension you hadn't even known had built up in your shoulders. Sighing, you slump onto the ground, staring up at the high ceiling of the room. Maybe if you just think in silence, you'll know what to do.

You lose yourself in your mind until another knock on the door startles you.

"Y/N?"

God. That's Seokjin, this time.

"I told you I'm not hungry, Jin. If that's what you're here for."

You hear the door open, but you continue to stare up at the ceiling.

"Oh, Y/N..." you hear Jin sigh. He crouches down next to you, and you can suddenly feel his warmth by your side. "You're not hungry because of shock. But you should eat. Skipping meals shouldn't become a habit."

"I dunno," you mumble, turning your head over to look at Seokjin. "There's a part of me that doesn't want to leave this room. You knew it was Jimin's, and you gave it to me."

"I thought it would help with your thoughts..." Jin says. He puts a reassuring hand on top of yours. "Remember those days when we were younger? I just hope recalling the memories helped a little."

"Can't say it didn't."

"Good, good..." Jin trails off.

You finally sit up, staring curiously at the man. "Don't you miss him? Why is everyone acting like they don't? Aren't you guys the ones that had spent the six years I couldn't with him?" You're not angry, just confused.

"Of course I miss him, Y/N. We all do. We're all grieving inside, though we choose not to show it to those around us," Jin sighs. "I think we've all cried about Jimin's passing, Y/N. Some are more open about it than others..." He pauses. "We'd... Well, we'd like to share a meal with you. You know, make your time here worthwhile. A small dinner might not help the bad feelings go away completely, but it can help temporarily. All you need is a nice, refreshing drink and a hot, savory meal, Y/N. We'll be by your side. No one here is against you."

The way he says it makes everything sound so tantalizing, so believable, so obtainable. You should've known better. But then again, they're all you have.

You hesitate. Then: "I'll... I'll go to dinner."

Jin smiles, helping you up. "You won't regret it."

You're not in much of an ecstatic mood, obviously. You were beginning to regret agreeing to Jin's talented convincing until you see the dining room and momentarily forget half of your day's unfortunate events. Your jaw drops as you enter it and your eyes latch onto the shining chandeliers and crystal decorations.

"Wait 'til you see our kitchen," Seokjin chuckles.

You nod just to agree. It makes you just a tiny bit happier to think that your brother had lived in such a lavish place. At least he got to experience the good stuff...

You see the rest of your brother's friends standing around the large crystal dining table, each holding a glass of wine of their choice. It's a strange contrast between the luxuries of the room and the casual wear of the people in it. You'd expect to see them dressed in gold-trimmed tuxes and suits, but they're all in sweats—expensive sweats, granted, but sweats nevertheless. Seven dainty chairs surround the table, on which the food's already steaming on silver plates.

"Just in time!" Taehyung announces. "We were worried the food would get cold!"

"Oh," you mumble, nodding awkwardly before pulling out a random chair to sink into when—

"Excuse me, that happens to be Namjoon's seat."

Startled, you look up to see Jung Hoseok sighing and shaking his head. "Assigned seats, Y/N."

"Cut her some slack, Jung," Namjoon says. "She had no way of knowing. And if you can't tell, she needed convincing to be here, so you better play nice." He turns to you, smiling, though the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "You're welcome to sit in that spot if you'd like."

Already feeling quite out of place, you pause before replying, "No... Uh, I'll just... um, sit where my brother sat then..."

"Oh, that's next to me," Jungkook says, pulling your chair out for you as you sink in it gratefully. Looks like you're sandwiched between Namjoon and Jungkook. In front of you is Yoongi, across from you on the left is Taehyung, across on the right, Hoseok. And smack dab in the power seat of the table is Seokjin. It occurs to you that you're the only one sitting.

Awkwardly, you look over to Jin, who gives you another reassuring smile. "You may be seated."

Your eyes bulge slightly as the five other men take their seats as if they're heeding to Jin's commands.

What is this? A monarchy?

When Jin takes his seat, no one makes a move, you note. Your throat itches, begging for a drink of water or a sip of wine to calm your nerves, but you are not going to be the one who moves first. There's obviously some sort of crazy shit going on here, and you're going to tread lightly until you figure out what it really is.

Finally, finally, when Jin reaches forward to take a sip of his blood-red wine, conversations resume, breathing resumes and the eating and drinking commences.

You're shell-shocked. That's what you are. You're unable to move until Jungkook slides you a piece of filet mignon steak onto your plate.

"I remembered you loved that particularly," he says, before returning to his friendly conversation with Taehyung.

But your favorite meal—in all of its glorious scent—doesn't appeal to you today. So, you keep your ears open to listen to the conversations around you. Wondering how they can have conversations at a time like this...

Taehyung seems to be telling Jungkook about the cute chicks he saw while he was working at his restaurant. Your eyes widen as Taehyung makes a quite inappropriate gesture with his hands. And you nearly choke when you see Jungkook playing along with it.

"Get a hold of yourselves," Yoongi says disgustedly at them. "Y/N isn't blind or deaf, you know. Keep your sexual fantasies in your bedrooms."

Hoseok snorts. And even Seokjin seems to chuckle.

"Sorry," Jungkook mutters as Taehyung just rolls his eyes.

"It's hard when soo many hot, rich girls come to Seokjin's restaurant, you know?" Taehyung grins. "Even harder when they slip their numbers into your tip."

Jungkook giggles. "That's real smooth of them."

"I know! I can't help that I'm so hot," Taehyung laughs. He laughs even harder when he sees Namjoon's disgusted face. "Face it Joon. Being a lawyer sucks, doesn't it? No girls to hit on... Just old farts in court."

Namjoon just sighs, sipping his wine. "You know what? Taehyung? It is quite a shitty job. My stress levels strike the roof whenever the topic of my career emerges. Go get me some vodka."

Taehyung looks offended that his joke had turned into a chore for him to do. He sighs, shaking his head, muttering something on the lines of "can't take a fucking joke." Before he leaves, he calls out, "Anyone else wants another drink?"

"Coke and rum for me," Hoseok quickly answers.

"Tonic and gin," Yoongi says.

"The usual," Seokjin calls. When Taehyung scrunches his face in confusion, he sighs. "Grapefruit soda and tequila."

"Right," Taehyung replies. "Y/N?" he asks. "Pick your poison if you'd like."

You jump at the sudden mention of your name. "I dunno..."

"Maybe something strong?" Taehyung suggests. "You know, to help..."

"Right... Something strong."

Taehyung grins. "I'll see what I can do."

"Get me some gin and lemonade, pretty please," Jungkook laughs.

Taehyung gives him a disdainful look. "If you want it, come help me in the kitchen, bitch."

Jungkook grumbles but he complies, following Taehyung and disappearing behind a corner in which you assume the kitchen lies.

"They might 'accidentally' poison our drinks for all we know," Namjoon sighs, shaking his head. "I trusted Jimin more when he handled our drinks. He is... was the best bartender in the city," Namjoon smiles. "God, his concoctions were literally unmatched."

For some reason, what he says makes you feel even more empty inside. "I can imagine," you force out.

You hate this. You shouldn't have come. You're uncomfortable, placed in the middle of a group of friends that have no respect for your grief. Now there's an awkward silence at the table with Taehyung and Jungkook gone, but you make no move to fix it.

"So, Y/N! I saw you looking at our interior design, earlier!" Namjoon says, clapping his hands together.

God, not the small talk, again.

"Yeah, it's beautiful," you say, half-heartedly. Maybe you should come up with an excuse to leave. Maybe you should feign sickness—you already feel queasy, anyway.

"Eh, I don't really like it," Hoseok says. "It was like this when we bought it. I never liked all this bright crystal action going on, but it'll have to do."

"Right?" Yoongi agrees. "I wanted a more modern home. This seems so regal."

"It's not like we can move, though," Namjoon sighs. He hastily adds, "It'd take too long, and we wouldn't appreciate the hassle."

"We should be thankful for what we have," Seokjin says kindly. "Not many young adults are able to live in such luxury."

"Of course. If it's a good year, our total legal annual income in this household well surpasses four million."

You cock your head. Legal? Had you heard that right? Did that mean they had an illegal income? You speak before you can stop yourself. "Wait—"

"Here come the drinks!" Taehyung enthusiastically sings as he sashays in the dining room with a silver platter full of pretty glasses. Straight away he hands Jin his tequila concoction, then Namjoon his vodka, Yoongi his gin and Hoseok his rum. Jungkook slides into his seat with his gin and lemonade in hand.

Taehyung slides up next to you, holding up a tall glass of—

"Water?" You scrunch your eyebrows, looking wearily at the clear glass.

"Everclear," Taehyung answers. "It's illegal in California, but we've got some connections." He winks at you.

"Careful. That's 95 percent alcohol," Yoongi says. "You don't want to wake up in the hospital now, do we?"

"I'm sure one glass will be fine," Taehyung says, handing you the glass before sliding into his seat. "I trust Y/N is able to drink responsibly. Isn't that right, Y/N?"

You hum quietly, staring at the clear liquid blankly. Would too much of it kill you? But if you did die, it wouldn't matter at this point, right?

Taehyung laughs and he reads your mind as he replies, "I'd be killed if I gave you something that could kill you."

Right. A hard dose of alcohol is what you need especially after today.

One second you're semi-complaining that you're unemployed and single. Then suddenly karma bitches at you and your brother's dead, joined a gang and made enemies that had decided to brutally murder him. And now you have to decide whether you want to join the mafia or be left alone to be killed by the same entity that killed your brother. All in one day.

Even the thought makes you scoff.

So when Seokjin proposes a toast to you and talks off in tangents of what comprises of a short speech, you can't help but tune out. After the clink of glasses, you down the eponymous liquid that's actually ever so clear.

It burns your throat in all the wrong ways, but bottoms up, you finish it all.

After that, everything is hazy. The itch in your throat does not go away, and the room seems to spin around. Damn that drink is strong.

"Someone have her back before she collapses," you hear Yoongi say.

But you're able to stomach it in, head lolling uselessly to the side as you stare dumbly into oblivion. Your thoughts are muddled, thank god, which is all that mattered.

"Taehyung, I swear. Everclear shouldn't be taken plain. It's supposed to be drunk with a mixer for god's sake," Namjoon sighs. "Now it's your responsibility to get her to her room."

"That's going to be hard, considering she can probably barely walk right now," Hoseok says. "Jungkook should go too."

"Don't try anything on her," Namjoon sighs.

Taehyung looks offended. "What? Why would we? She's halfway gone. We wouldn't stoop that low."

"Yeah..." Jungkook says. "That's too low."

"You guys should get going while she's conscious..." Yoongi says. "She looks like she's going to pass out any second now."

"Why did you even think of giving her Everclear?" Namjoon rolls his eyes.

"She asked for it! She wanted a strong drink! I only did what she asked," Taehyung says, raising his voice.

"Let's not argue," Seokjin cuts in. "The hangover will definitely be bad... But her worries aren't with her at this moment. Don't give her a headache by yelling over each other. We'll have to cut dinner short. Taehyung, Jungkook, get Y/N to her room. Give her a few glasses of water before she blacks out. Hoseok, Yoongi? Looks like you two are on kitchen duty tonight."

"What?" Hoseok whines. "That's never our job!"

But one look from Jin has him quiet.

"I just hope she doesn't wake up with a giant hangover..." someone says. You can't tell who. You're mixing voices up in your head and your vision is blurry.

"You're kidding right?" another voice counters. "Everclear hangovers are the fucking worst."

It's the last thing you hear before everything becomes black.

—next chapter

—masterpost

—masterlist

#bts #bts fanfiction #ot7 #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #mafia au #over the moon #otm

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