#life-threatening situations like it's nothing sometimes and they have gotten pretty hurt before while they were with him as well

[mad-hunts]

psst... i finished the blurb for my supernatural verse, and it is currently the only universe where julien is alive, which may be wilder than one might think. and i say that because that means that barton is less shouldered by guilt / more than likely comparatively even worse than he is in the main verse. i mean, don't get me wrong, julien's (one of barton's sons) death is definitely a tragedy.

it is also something that introduced more of a sense of guilt into him though because it made him realize that, yes — he IS not only destroying the lives of the strangers he kills but also the members of his own family's lives. so, without this event taking place, barton is (unfortunately) probably more cocky and liable to indulging in his very twisted impulses, so... yeah. but of course, julien is more than just a plot device character in barton's story. it's just that him being around does change things on a bigger level

[introvert--weeb]

Hello! I love reading your works but can i have request?

If it's not too much i request for a mikey, draken, mitsuya,angry,smiley,ran and rindou (sorry if it's too much, i love them all i can't pick) with a s/o bakugou katsuki? But the s/o is a bit calmer since she have a angry management but when she snaps she became the explosive queen?(lmao) and called someone extras,nerd,shitty and when fight she keeps saying "DIEEE!"

Oh God! I love this idea so much!

And of course I can write for all of them! I really don't have that much of a limit on how many characters I'm willing to write about in one request 😅 I'm also really glad you enjoy my other writings :)

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!!

--

Mikey, Draken, Mitsuya, Smiley, Angry, Ran, Rindo with a fem!Bakugo Katsuki!reader

TW: mentions of language, anger management, violence, name calling

--

Mikey

Just like Mikey, you would like to give others nicknames rather than call them by their actual name. However, while the blond would simply add '-chin' at the end of names or change the way it's said, you would create these nicknames by either how annoying they were to you or if you were friends, by their features.

You were like a firecracker. Short fuse and when it was lit, you were explosive in both your words and actions. Many of Toman had learnt this the hard way. Especially poor Baji. He had made a comment that had set you off, next thing he knew he was facing the sky as Draken and Mikey were holding you back. Never again did he make the mistake of saying something that would upset you.

While you were usually OK if not provoked, there were times when you couldn't hold back. This was especially true when it came down to fights. Even the Invincible Mikey knew to not get too close during these moments. After all, he had witnessed what happened to those that had.

You would be the loudest and most explosive on that entire battlefield. It was intimidating for the rival gang when you had gotten into the zone. Yells of you telling all those 'extras' to get out of your way, with each punch you would scream out for them to 'die'. Yep, the others are going to get as far away from you as possible.

Would be back to your calm self after letting all your frustrations out. This is what surprises your boyfriend the most. You could be yelling at people to die as you punched them only to become sweet and innocent afterwards. It did remind him to never provoke you to the point of you losing it.

Draken

No one could understand how Draken had ended up with someone as arrogant as you. You made it no secret that you believed in your skills as a fighter, even looking down on others you deemed too weak.

However, this was mainly to make sure others knew that you should be taken seriously. Being a girl in a gang, especially the girlfriend of the Vice Captain, had others looking down on you all the time. You were strong on your own merits. You didn't need to be dating Draken to get people to notice this.

Most of the time, you were pretty calm and people felt they could approach you without any harm coming towards them. After all, you were actually a nice person under all that harsh exterior. But they still made sure to watch what they said around you, remembering how short your fuse was.

When you snapped, the person who got you to that point best start praying for their life or running as far away as they could. You were known to be quite agile when it came to fights and this would be no exception. A swift punch to their face followed by you yelling for them to 'die you shitty extra'!

Ken would never admit it but you terrified him when you got like this. After all, he was the Vice Captain to one of the strongest delinquent gangs in Tokyo. He shouldn't be scared of a girl that was shorter than him. People reminded him that he could stop you by picking you up. Draken knew this wouldn't do anyone any good.

"Ken-ny, you not going to stop her?" Mikey asked, appearing at the side of the taller blond while munching on his dorayaki. Draken just sighed before explaining that he couldn't. In fact, he doesn't even believe that Mikey could stop you when you got like this. The best course of action was to just let you have your fill so you could calm down.

The poor boy who had lit your fuse was now lying black and blue on the ground, blood pouring out of his now-broken nose. You simply blew a strand of hair from your face before making your way to your boyfriend, not wanting to talk about the incident.

Mitsuya

Being a pacifist, Mitsuya didn't agree with how fast you would turn to violence when you lost your patience with somebody. After all, he was a firm believer in that most situations can be sorted by talking it through. So people were really shocked when it came to light you were dating.

You were both the complete opposites of each other in how you dealt with overwhelming stress. However, you both did make a great couple when it came to other aspects in the relationship. It's just people hardly saw that. And nobody seemed to remember that you were actually quite a calm person who just so happened to have a short fuse.

What seemed to set your fuse of the most is when others looked down on you or your boyfriend. People seemed to think that because he didn't actively fight those he had a disagreement with.

So when someone dared to talk smack about your beloved Takashi, you were not going to take it. And so, that is how Mitsuya was trying his best to hold you back as you were shouting and trying to kick out at the person that had made you angry.

"Let go of me, Takashi! I'm gonna rip that shitty nerd's arms off, that's all!" You may have been trying to convince your boyfriend to let you go but the threat of removing the arms of the boy was keeping him from doing so. Even the boy who had annoyed you had begun to feel scared for his safety and so chose this moment to walk away.

"Oi! Get back here you damn extra! I'll kill you!"

Mitsuya simply held you until you calmed down, softly shushing you as you yelled out more threats. But when you finally had calmed down enough, that was when Mitsuya would begin to lecture you on how violence and threats were uncalled for in situations like that. Although he would express his gratitude that you stood up for him.

Smiley

You both would get on so well together. Same energy and love for violence and threatening people. in fact, you both would tell each other "I'll kill you" (affectionately of course) when the other was being annoying. The best type of relationship.

You would definitely give Smiley a nickname that only you would call him. And Nahoya would reciprocate with his own nicknames he had for you. They would definitely just be affectionate insults.

When you would be on dates, Smiley would love how you muttered under your breath about all the extras and nerds that were getting in your way. Sometimes you may actually call them that to their face if it was a particularly bad day, scaring the poor souls at how aggressive you seemed.

Nahoya would ride his bike with you clinging to his back. You would both ride around Shibuya, speeding around corners just to feel that adrenaline high you both would crave. Sometimes you would both find yourselves in a fight against people that made fun of you both.

Smiley loved watching how intense you became. It was like a switch flipped in your mind, turning you into a small ball of pure rage. Shouts of 'DIE' could be heard throughout the streets of Shibuya as you delivered blow after blow against your opponent. This was when he knew you were perfect for each other.

Angry

You would remind Souya of a female Nahoya, just without the constant smile. No, instead you would usually appear unapproachable with your resting bitch face.

Angry would be the sweeter of the two brothers and so would do anything to keep you safe. But that was easier said than done. As you were a lot like Nahoya, you would get annoyed easily and quickly resort to violence.

The main reasons why you ended up In fights was to protect your cute boyfriend. One comment on how he looked stupid with his angry expression and the person was seeing stars. There was no way you could let someone get away with making stupid comments about Souya! These damn extras needed to learn their place in the world!

Your anger made your vision red. The word 'die' seemed to become a lot more frequent, to the point where your victim was beginning to genuinely fear for their life.

Souya had to grab your arm to get you to stop. He was scared that you could end up getting hurt or worse, you could end up going through with your threat. He didn't know what he would do if you ended up in juvenile detention. Especially if you could be there for 10 years.

"Please stop Y/N!" The fact his voice was so teary is what had snapped you from this rage-filled trance. Turning your attention to the blue haired Kawata, you got off the now unconscious boy and decided it would be best to continue your hang out in an attempt to calm down.

Ran

He would love how you had two sides to you. One side was calm yet arrogant, similar to his own, while the other side happened to be his favourite. You would explode and takedown a handful of gang members on your own.

Ran wouldn't admit it out loud to anyone but you, but he found the second side so hot. Maybe it was how you moved so elegantly as you dodged each punch before dealing your own? Or maybe it was the strength you used behind each throw you aimed towards your opponent? Either way, he thought you were a damn work of art.

It really didn't take a lot to get you to switch. However, you made sure not to explode when Ran or Rindo was testing your patience. You may have agility and strength but you were nothing against their combo. However, Ran would never hurt you and Rindo would only gently restrain your limbs. It would definitely be just to show you that you were not on their level.

You often followed the brothers when they were going to deal with gangs that tried to muscle in on Roppongi. That could not be forgiven. After all, Roppongi belongs to the Haitani brothers.

While the brothers were busy with the leaders, you would be left to take out the others. It would be a struggle but you could manage most of them.

"You damn extras need to learn not to take what doesn't belong to you!" Another one had fallen. This continued until Ran and Rindo finally dealt with the leaders. It was an obvious victory for the brothers.

"You look so hot splattered with blood, baby," he would whisper in your ear before leaning back and sending a wink. You rolled your eyes before starting the journey back to their home.

Rindo

You were like his own personal guard dog. Not that he needed one but he did appreciate how you were always there for him. In fact, he loved that you didn't view him as the weaker brother and instead saw his amazing combat strength. You had to keep reminding him that Ran couldn't actually use his baton as efficiently without Rindo locking them down.

He had yet to really see you in action as the 'explosive princess' people knew you as. It did bother him a little but he never did express this disappointment outwardly. After all, he was a Haitani brother and so had to keep up appearances. Especially if he wanted to be viewed as an equal with Ran.

It was as he was on a date with you one day that he saw the mysterious explosive side of you. And he totally wasn't prepared for it.

It started when a high schooler had approached you both, telling you how you should ditch a weakling like Rindo to be with him. Rindo was about to kill this boy for even trying to get you to leave him as well as to prove that he wasn't weak.

However, he was left speechless when you had thrown a punch into the boy's stomach, causing him to double over and drop to his knees. You used your boot to push him onto his back before starting your assault on his face.

'Who do you think you are, you shitty extra! My Rindo is a hell of a lot stronger than your weak ass! Now do me a favour and die already!" Even as you were talking, fists smashing into his face as blood exploded from his nose and lips.

Rindo could only watch, not knowing whether to be terrified of you or to find this whole display extremely hot. The blood that covered your fists was a sight he wished he could see more often.

Once you were satisfied that the lesson had been learnt, you stood up and dusted your clothes. "Let's continue our date babe!" And now you were back to being the calm and sweet girl Rindo knew best.

[tossawary]

wait can we hear more about da ge mbj au I'm very interested

MBJ getting abandoned as a child makes me enjoy imagining him being soft for babies, especially demon babies. Which made me want to see SQH put into a situation with a lost demon child and MBJ getting to see that. 

Which ended in 3,000 words of canon divergence fic.

-

The situation was bad. 

 Airplane’s fellow An Ding disciples were dead. 

 There was a young demon lord unconscious in front of him, probably dying, and Airplane couldn’t bring himself to bring down the rock in his hand. 

 His hand was shaking. He couldn’t make it stop. 

 This System really didn’t give a fuck about the author’s wishes, huh? Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had been shoved into one of the worst character roles in Proud Immortal Demon Way and left to take the long way around to the plot. Now he was being told that his favorite character was expendable? Irrelevant? Talk about insult to injury! Nothing was sacred here, was it? 

 Airplane put down the rock. 

 Then he picked up the rock again. 

 He looked at it. 

 Then he hurled the rock away and put his head in his hands instead. 

 He came to a decision - a shitty decision for a shitty situation - and got to work saving his future murderer’s life. At least he would know some of what to expect if he kept the storyline mostly the same! Besides, his life wasn’t good enough to be that concerned about it! Maybe the System would put him into a decent role next time! 

 Maybe it was empathy at seeing someone being fucked over by the System! 

 Airplane did his best to slow down Mobei-Jun’s bleeding and loaded the man into the cart. He also did his best to ignore all the dead bodies around them. Gross. 

 That should have been that! He should have then been on his way to continue making a really bad decision in a really bad situation. But as Airplane moved to leave the scene of a massacre behind him, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He startled, snapping around, prepared to defend himself physically or verbally! 

 Instead, he saw a baby. 

 Ah, well, not a baby baby! But a child somewhere between the ages of three and four years old! A chubby one too! The chubby child was crouched halfway behind a tree, looking at Airplane with wide eyes, little hands clawing anxiously into the grass. It was impossible to miss their little pointed ears and the blue mark in the middle of their forehead. How could anyone miss that kind of family resemblance? 

 The demon child froze upon being noticed. 

 Airplane looked between the demon child and the young demon lord in the card, but the similarities only got stronger the longer he looked! 

 Holy shit! 

 HOLY FUCKING SHIT! 

 But he didn’t remember Mobei-Jun having a child! He remembered Mobei-Jun having siblings, sure, but he was pretty sure that... he’d alluded to Mobei-Jun’s uncle doing away with most of them. Did that mean that this child was supposed to… die? 

 This situation had gotten even worse. 

 Leaving a child here to die was… pretty bad. Airplane had done some not very good things to make it in this world and in his sect without losing any sleep over it at all, but the idea of leaving this child to die made Airplane want to be sick! At least, as soon as he realized that if Mobei-Jun had been protecting this demon child and woke up to find this demon child missing, then Airplane would be really, truly, totally fucked no matter how tightly he hugged the man’s thighs! 

 It looked like the demon child had to come too. 

 How the fuck did a person go about catching a demon child?! 

 “Is… this your gege?” Airplane tried carefully. “Is this your gege here?” 

 The demon child didn’t respond. 

 Airplane gestured at Mobei-Jun repeatedly, unsure how to get the message across. “Is this your gege?” he said, louder. “Baba? ...No? Not Baba? Da-Ge? Are you his didi?” 

 That got a blink. 

 “Didi?” Airplane repeated, desperately. “Come here, Didi.” 

 Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky hadn’t handled children since his last life. He’d been one of the younger siblings in Shang Qinghua’s family, so he hadn’t been involved in any of the child-rearing before leaving. But Airplane’s experience wasn’t very good! Some forced babysitting of his father’s do-over children and his mother’s stepchildren’s children didn’t make him an expert! And this was a demon baby! 

 “Didi, your gege needs you,” Airplane wheedled. “Come here! Come on!” 

 Slowly, the demon child began to crawl over towards the cart. 

 “Your gege is hurt and needs help,” Airplane said, in most most soothing and also urgent voice. It was a weird balance! “Come on! Come along! Didi, your gege needs help. He’s hurt. Come here, please, that’s it! That’s right! Good job! You’re doing such a good job coming up here for your gege! We need to get your gege somewhere safe!” 

 The demon child made it to the cart, trying to stay on the far side of it and away from Airplane. Airplane tried not to make himself look too threatening. He also tried not to contemplate his apparent natural talent for kidnapping children, which probably wasn’t something to make a person feel proud. 

 “Didi, can I pick you up? Didi, can I lift you up next to your gege?” 

 Reluctantly, the demon child lifted his chubby arms and let Airplane slowly approach him. Airplane carefully put his hands under their armpits and then hefted them into the cart beside Mobei-Jun. The demon child nearly kicked him in the gut, struggling to get to the unconscious and injured ice demon! 

 “Ah, be careful of the injury-!” Airplane said, trying to move the child back. “OW!” 

 The demon child bit him. 

 Airplane yanked his poor hand back. “You little fucker! Ah, fine! Curl up in your gege’s blood and see if I care,” he muttered. “Let’s just get out of here already.” 

 The demon child curled up against Mobei-Jun’s side and Shang Qinghua got back into the driver’s seat of the cart. Trying to channel his spiritual energy for healing purposes while focusing on driving was hard. Even if he could have managed it properly, he still would have been stuck with an aching hand as it healed, which didn’t make him feel very charitable towards the demons in the back seat. 

 Ungrateful! The both of them! 

 When they finally got to a decent hiding place, unloading Mobei-Jun was nothing less than a pain in the ass. Airplane was forced to negotiate with a two-foot tyrant with needle-sharp teeth who didn’t want to move and didn’t want Airplane to touch his gege. Airplane was forced to wheedle like never before. 

 “Your gege is hurt, but I can help him,” Airplane insisted soothingly. “See that place? It’s safe in there! Don’t you want your gege to be somewhere nice and safe, where no one can see him and I can heal him? Look at that hiding spot! It’s a good hiding spot. We all need to go into the hiding spot now. We’re all going into the hiding spot. Come on, Didi, help me get your gege into the nice, safe hiding spot. Come on now. Be good.” 

 The demon child bared his teeth as Airplane helped him down from the cart, but thankfully didn’t bite again. The demon child then hugged Airplane’s shins very unhelpfully as Airplane hefted Mobei-Jun into his arms. 

 Airplane was forced to shuffle. 

 He never thought he’d be so grateful for all the carrying that An Ding Peak forced its disciples to do! Sometimes, carrying things around was all Airplane did all day long and now it was paying off! Airplane wasn’t as strong as some of his peers, sure, but he still managed to carry a giant ice demon into the “hiding spot” with a little ice demon attached to his leg. He counted himself grateful there was only one Mobei-Jun to deliver inside, because he couldn’t have handled more. 

 Once inside, the demon child curled up against Mobei-Jun’s side again. Airplane took the opportunity to look after the cart’s beast of burden and unload the supplies from the cart, searching desperately for the medical supplies their mission had been allotted. When he finally found the medicine, returning triumphantly, the demon child was ungratefully unenthusiastic about Airplane’s careful approach. 

 “Ah, Didi, don’t growl at me! See, look! Look! It’s medicine! Medicine for your gege to stop the bleeding and... make sure his organs go back on the inside. Eugh. Ah, anyway, I’m helping. It’s okay because I’m helping. See, look, I’m helping. It’s okay.” 

 Airplane managed to get pretty far before the demon child couldn’t take it anymore and tried to bite him again. Airplane shrieked, but managed to wrestle the demon child off him, and ended up grabbing some of the food supplies as a desperate distraction. 

 “Bite this! Bite this! Didi, look, it’s food! Food for Didi!” 

 The demon child growled, but putting the food directly in front of his face caught his attention. The demon child’s eyes narrowed in on the food in a super predatory way that was unseen in human babies. Airplane gladly made the sacrifice. He threw the food to the demon child, who scrambled to catch it, gave it a sniff, and then started to hesitantly nibble on it before taking bigger bites. 

 “See? Don’t bite your Shang-Gege and he’ll give you food instead,” Airplane muttered, quickly turning his attention to the bigger demon. “You stay there and chew that and let me help your gege. I’m helping. I’m helping. I’m helping. Shang-Gege is helping Didi’s gege. Everything is good. Everything is okay. There’s no need for biting.” 

 Airplane didn’t really know how much the demon child understood of what he was saying. The demon child looked more than old enough to understand basic speech. He at least understood “stay”, Airplane decided, by sitting off to the side and anxiously chewing through dried food supplies while Airplane worked rearranging Mobei-Jun’s guts and then bandaging up the blood mess. 

 Maybe it helped to see that Airplane had no intention of eating the unconscious and vulnerable Mobei-Jun or something. He was pretty sure that was a demon thing. 

 He couldn’t bring himself to think about what he was doing! 

 If he thought about his actions here, he was going to throw up or something! 

 So long as he kept his hands moving here, he didn’t have to think about anything. He was just an An Ding Peak disciples hard at work betraying the sect. Yeah. 

 Eventually, Mobei-Jun was in as good a shape as Airplane could get him. The demon child - Didi, Airplane decided to call him - was curled up into a ball beside where Mobei-Jun was lying. Didi looked like he was forcing himself to stay alert. 

 “It’s all okay now,” Airplane said. “See? I helped. Shang-Gege helped your gege. Your Gege needs to sleep to get better and now you can sleep beside him.” 

 Airplane washed himself as best he could and tried to wash Didi a little, but the demon child was resistant and snapped at him. Airplane, expecting this now, successfully dodged the snap and wiped at Didi’s face. Trying to be nice was too much work! Airplane’s clean-up job ended up being pretty shitty. There was no doing anything about Mobei-Jun’s blood staining Didi’s clothes around the knee and elbow. 

 “Ah, fine, curl up in blood again, you little brat,” Airplane sighed. 

 Didi curled up against Mobei-Jun’s side again and, apparently, immediately fell asleep. 

 Airplane secured their hiding place as best he could, took stock of their pitiful amount of resources, and tried not to panic about what the fuck he was was going to do now. He was exhausted. Saving two ungrateful demons was hard work. He had no idea what was going to happen next. He was pretty sure he had just made the worst mistake of his life, but it was a little late to change things now. 

 Airplane found a good patch of floor to watch over the demons and let himself collapse. He was too tired to think anymore. There were too many things to think about. 

 He hoped that Mobei-Jun didn’t die. Demons were hardy and demon lords were even hardier, but the real world that had been made out of his shitty web-novel was really unpredictable sometimes. For all Airplane knew, Mobei-Jun was going to develop an infection and a fever. Maybe Mobei-Jun would die anyway and Airplane was going to be stuck with a bitey demon brat who hated him. 

 Airplane yawned. Keeping his eyes open was becoming really hard. Fuck. 

 Watching Didi’s back go up and down with his unconscious breaths was pretty mesmerizing. It was really tempting to sneak over there and pinch one of those chubby, chubby cheeks. Or those cute demon ears. But the demon child looked almost as tired as Airplane felt and probably bit in his sleep. 

 Airplane really didn’t want to think about what would have happened if he’d just taken off with Mobei-Jun, not knowing the demon child had been hiding nearby. That might have been the worst possible situation. Didi was dirty and exhausted now, sure, but he looked like one of those babies who should have been spoiled and happy all the time, and not mercilessly abandoned to the human world.  

-

 Airplane woke up with a hand around his throat, squeezing. 

 There was a dark shadow above him and an even darker feeling in the air. The hand at his throat felt freezing cold. The air was burning with hateful demonic energy that felt like acid on his skin. Airplane struggled, but it was all immoveable. 

 “Where is he?” the shadow snarled. 

 Airplane choked. 

 His shadowy attacker belatedly seemed to realize that Airplane couldn’t talk when he was being choked to death! The squeezing let up enough for Airplane to breathe again. His lungs felt like they were burning hot and cold! His throat felt crushed and ruined. 

 “What did you do with him?” the attacker demanded. 

 “...W-wh…?” 

 “The child! Where is the child?!” 

 Airplane realized here that he was looking into the face of his future murderer. It was hard to make out in the darkness when he was being choked! 

 Mobei-Jun looked wild. His eyes looked like lightning. 

 “The ch-child… ch- chi- is-” 

 Mobei-Jun snarled again with impatience. 

 Even though it definitely wasn’t Airplane’s fault he couldn’t talk coherently! 

 “H-here,” Airplane choked out. 

 Mobei-Jun’s grip tightened, but then the man froze. His head snapped to the side. 

 Airplane followed the demon lord’s gaze. 

 Through the darkness, if Airplane squinted, he could see a small figure crouched by the supplies. Didi was frozen, watching them, chubby cheeks stuffed with stolen food. 

 Oh, there weren’t words for what Airplane wanted to say to the brat! Sneaking around like this in the middle of the night! Nearly getting Airplane strangled for no reason! 

 Mobei-Jun released Airplane immediately and flew across the room to the demon child, who threw up his arms immediately. Mobei-Jun took his younger brother into his arms and then collapsed heavily to the floor. By the sound of it, he crushed some of their precious food supplies as he fell! But the man was too busy wrapping his arms around the demon child to care about things like that, letting Didi sob into his chest, glaring at Airplane over the demon child’s head. 

 Airplane kept his distance! He knew better than to get anywhere near that! 

 The silence was very heavy. 

 He was certain that Mobei-Jun had reopened his wounds, if they had managed to close at all! As time trickled by them, he could see red seeping down the man’s side. 

 “...There are more bandages,” Airplane said finally, hoarsely. 

 Mobei-Jun’s scowl deepened, his lip curling. 

 “Ah… if- if you want them.” 

 What an asshole! 

 Airplane stayed put and didn’t make any sudden moves. 

 His throat felt like shit, so he tried to heal it with his spiritual energy. It was hard to focus with the demon lord glaring at him like that, on the other side of the room, but he didn’t really have anything better to do. There were only so many names he could silently call this ungrateful young demon who’d attacked the bro who’d saved his life! 

 At least Mobei-Jun hadn’t bitten him too. 

 Time trickled by and by. Eventually, Mobei-Jun’s eyelids began to droop close. The man’s injury appeared to be pulling him back under, whether he liked it or not. 

 After Mobei-Jun’s eyes had closed without opening for a long time, Airplane finally risked moving again. Mobei-Jun didn’t wake up, but Didi’s eyes fixed on Airplane, which made Airplane fear being bitten as he carefully came closer. 

 “Ahhh, see? Your gege is fine. I’m just… just going to put him back to bed, alright? You- don’t get up… just stay there and don’t bite me. We’re putting gege back to bed.” 

 Airplane dragged Mobei-Jun back to where the man had been before, with Didi staying put on his elder brother’s chest. Airplane was sure that this couldn’t be good for the demon lord’s wounds! But clearly Mobei-Jun didn’t give a shit about his own health! 

 “Didi, can you get off gege’s chest? Keep hugging him, just slide off, please? Gege is hurt, remember? Gege is hurt and we need to help him. See, he’s bleeding. Please let your Shang-Gege help again and don’t bite me. Everyone is fine. Everyone is happy. Everyone is getting along just fine and helping and healing. There’s no need to bite your Shang-Gege who is only helping, okay?” 

 Didi was more cooperative this time, sliding off Mobei-Jun chest to hug his less-injured side, while Airplane poked at the demon lord’s bleeding. The injuries looked… a lot better than Airplane would have expected them to. This healing rate was nothing short of astounding. Was this the power of an OP demon lord? How unfair! 

 Airplane did his best fixing the man up again. 

 He should have just let the man rot! 

 Mobei-Jun had just tried to kill him again! He would totally deserve it! 

 But there was a demon child carefully watching and Airplane didn’t want to end up with custody if his future murderer died here after all. What would he do with a demon child? Take them back to the sect?! His master would love that, he’s sure! 

 “Ah, looks like he’s getting lots better,” Airplane told Didi hoarsely, rubbing at his poor throat. “You’re doing a good job looking after him. Good job helping your gege. Keep helping his sleep, okay? Stay right there and don’t go sneaking off again, okay? Please don’t go sneaking off again, your Shang-Gege won’t be able to take it.” 

 Didi just blinked at him. 

 “Good job,” Airplane said. “Good job. Shang-Gege is… going to make sure that everything is okay outside. You stay here and protect your gege. Good job.” 

 That said, Airplane crept backwards, got up, and went outside. 

 Once outside, he promptly fell to his knees and curled in on himself. 

 “Holy fucking shit,” he said. 

[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Six)

Chapter Six: Lifted Burdens

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

The word reverberated around her brain for days after she heard it. Her brain was mocking her and she knew it.

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. My girlfriend.

Over and over again.

A heartbroken Y/N went home that day to an extremely livid Penelope. Y/N was the one calming her down instead of the other way around.

“How could he be so stupid?! I mean, he’s a genius, but he’s still the stupidest person I’ve ever met! Oh my God, I’m gonna kill him! A girlfriend?! He’s out of his mind!”

And although Y/N agreed with every single word Penelope’d said, there was little she could do about it now. She had shown Ashley around just like she had with every other new agent. It would have been a lot easier to hate her if she wasn’t so...nice. You know, even though her father was a serial killer and all.

She was so normal. And Spencer seemed happy around her. That’s all she could ever ask for, right? So why was it still so painful every time the three of them were in a room together? Why was avoiding all the team members’ apologetic stares as they witnessed a moment between the couple turning into a sport? Well, she knew exactly why, but she didn’t really want to give that thought the time of day.

Derek was almost as livid as Penelope when he’d learned of the new relationship. It took everything in his power to not chew Spencer out.

Spencer, on the other hand, was convinced that this was the only way he’d ever get to get over Y/N. Besides, she’s married now, what’s everyone so upset for? Is his happiness too much to ask for? Although, he did find it odd that Y/N wasn’t wearing rings on any of her fingers. He would have thought that a newlywed wife would have been much more excited to show off her ring. It was also quite strange to hear that Anderson transferred to a different unit. But he stopped himself from thinking about her too much anyway. Stopped himself from thinking about how much her eyes stopped twinkling as much as they used to. Or how her smile always seemed a little less bright than he was used to.

Stop, Spencer. You have Ashley now. He reminded himself.

Ashley was a nice girl. They’d met a few times before they began dating. He first met her when Rossi took him to the Academy to speak with some of the recruits who were interested in joining the BAU. Then, after that, he’d ran into her while he was guest-lecturing at her university. She’d been taking extra classes to get her degree faster and ever since then, they’d kept in contact. They’d met again while Spencer was on his medical leave. He had practically begged Rossi to take him to any lectures. Despite being a homebody through and through, Spencer had had enough of sitting at home waiting for his knee to heal. He needed to get out of the house and do something. Ashley had been the one to suggest a date and Spencer was shocked to say the least, but he accepted. Who was he to deny a pretty girl a date when the love of his life was already married?

Coming back to work was exciting to say the least, even if he wasn’t authorized to go into the field yet. The rest of the team still had to go though, which made the bullpen kind of eerily quiet.

He tried to spend most of his time in Garcia’s batcave to be able to be a part of any video calls with the team, despite the fact that Garcia could barely look at him without wanting to crush the rest of his bones (it’s all in the name of love, she swears). Him being in Garcia’s cave made it practically impossible for Y/N to go in there as often as she normally would. She’d normally spend her entire breaktime with her, they’d chat, eat, and watch kitten videos on repeat. But now Dr. Genius was occupying her space there and it left Y/N sulking out in the empty bullpen. 

Now, Spencer wasn’t completely oblivious to the way the team was acting around him. He’d noticed a decrease in Penelope’s affectionate terms, he’d noticed Derek’s disapproving stares, even JJ was being short with him. Maybe it had something to do with him dating the new agent.

“Hey, Garcia?” Spencer asked from his seat next to her, he was currently going over a case file as she sorted through VICAP.

“Yes, Reid?” She asked, obviously not paying attention.

“Do you guys um, not like Ashley or something?” He asked tentatively, fiddling with his pen between his fingers. That got her attention because she turned in her chair and looked at him.

“What gave you that idea?” She asked with signature Garcia concern.

Spencer shrugged and pursed his lips together, “I don’t know, you’ve all just been acting super weird since I got back and every time I’m with her around you guys it’s super awkward.”

He saw Garcia take a deep breath and she slumped her shoulders, “No, Reid, we do like her a lot. I guess you can say we just weren’t expecting it. I mean, you’d just gotten shot and then came back with a girlfriend, it was kind of...surprising.”

“Why is it so surprising? Is it so surprising that someone actually finds me interesting?” Spencer almost scoffed, that had come out way meaner than he’d intended.

“No, of course that’s not what I meant, you know that!” She exclaimed, tears already threatening her eyes, “It’s just...we all thought it would...y’know, take you a while to get over Y/N.” She tiptoed around what she really wanted to say. Spencer held back a roll of his eyes.

“Well, I am. So...so you can all stop being so weird. Besides, what does it matter how long it takes me to get over her? She’s married now, remember?” Spencer said, not even trying to hide the bitterness behind his voice.

Garcia’s face drained of all emotion all at once, “What?”

Spencer analyzed her expression before shrugging, “What?” He asked, feeling like he was missing something.

Suddenly, she began laughing in disbelief, “No, no, no. There’s no way.”

Spencer’s impatience and irritability grew, “What are you talking about?”

“Spencer! Y/N has been living with me for the past 3 weeks, you big idiot! I’m not saying anything more to you. You need to be talking to her right now, not me.” He felt as though his brain took ages to process what she’d told him.

“What...why would she be living with you?” He asked, his brain raking through all the possibilities. Garcia shook her head and refrained from speaking to him for the rest of the day. The dread set in as he realized.

He’d only seen Y/N at her desk whenever he had to leave the batcave for something. Most times she’d just send him a polite smile but they rarely engaged in any conversation. Her energy has been cut in half lately. 

Near the end of the day, Spencer trudged all the way to the kitchenette on his crutches to make himself a fresh cup of coffee. While reaching up to grab his mug, he tried to balance on his crutches but was still very wobbly. The result of his wobbliness was a shattered mug on the floor of the BAU’s kitchenette. Spencer winced at the sound and sighed a deep sigh.

He heard quick footsteps to where he was, “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?” Y/N stood in front of him, taking in the scene. He hadn’t heard her voice in days, it was the closest thing he’d felt to relief hearing from her again.

“I-I’m okay, I just dropped a mug while trying to make a cup of coffee.” He huffed frustratedly, upset that his mobility was compromised.

“Spence, next time you can just ask me or something--or someone else, it doesn’t have to be me, but I mean, I don’t mind doing it, if you asked.” She stumbled lightly on her words, cheeks reddening. Spencer smiled in response and nodded, touched at her kindness, “Now, step back and let me help you clean this up before someone gets hurt.” 

Spencer took a step back, the feeling of guilt overwhelming him as he watched her pick up the pieces and sweep the floor, “I’m sorry...about that. You didn’t have to help me out, thank you.”

Her face cracked a smile and Spencer felt the hunch in his shoulders loosen slightly, “Come on, it’s really nothing. How’s the um, knee?” She pointed slightly as she brought down another mug and began to fill it with coffee for him.

He sighed, “It’s not great. It hurts sometimes, like a lot, but it could have been worse I guess.” He shrugged, unable to keep his eyes off her captivating face. If he thought the science of reading microexpressions was interesting, reading her face was on a whole other level.

“I’m sorry, Spence, I really hope you feel better soon.” She spoke while adding the perfect amount of cream and sugar. He could tell that there was something weighing on her heavily as she seemed to drift further away as she watched the swirls of the cream dance in the mug.

“Thanks, Y/N/N. Um, what about you? Are you okay?” He asked, noting the way she immediately snapped back into shape almost as if she’d been caught slipping. Her facade was back on as if it hadn’t slipped for a nanosecond.

“Yeah! I’m great.” She smiled, not meeting his eyes, Spencer was about to ask about her current living situation when she spoke quickly, not leaving a pause, “How about I walk this back to your desk for you?”

“Um, you don’t have to do that. I can take it.” Spencer frowned, feeling already guilty enough. 

She giggled slightly, purposefully glancing at both his hands wrapped around his crutches, “Got a third hand I don’t know about, Spence?”

Spencer grinned in defeat, realizing what she meant, “Right…” He sheepishly began to walk back to his desk, is Garcia needed him she would call. She set the cup down and flashed him a smile before turning around and walking right back to her desk where she stood for a few seconds as if contemplating something then continued on in the direction of Garcia’s office.

“Garcia...I did something bad.” She confessed sheepishly stepping into the office and closing the door behind her, feeling somewhat like a child who hadn’t followed instructions. 

Garcia turned around in her chair, “Oh no, sweets, what happened?”

“I talked to him…” She flopped down onto the chair next to Garcia’s and pouted. Garcia couldn’t hide her smile and shook her head.

“And…?” Garcia looked expectantly at her.

“I don’t think I can ever get over him, Pen.” She suddenly frowned, picking at a frayed thread on her skirt.

“Well it’s not gonna happen overnight, sugarplum. Tell you what, why don’t we have a girls night out when the team gets back tonight. Maybe you could get a little lovin’.” Garcia added suggestively but Y/N rolled her eyes and huffed playfully in response.

“Yes to girls night, no to getting any “lovin’”, I don’t think my heart can physically handle anything else.”

“Ughh, alright. But um...there’s something you should know…” Garcia began.

“What is it?” Y/N pushed.

“So...you know how Reid is a certified genius and stuff...yeah...he’s quite possibly the most obtuse man I’ve ever met.” Garcia spoke.

“Yes, we know this, what is it, Pen?” Y/N asked, growing more impatient and anxious.

“I found out today that he had absolutely zero clue that you called off the wedding.” She said.

“What do you mean? How did he not know?” Y/N almost laughed at the absurdity.

“I guess no one told him. I think we all got so caught up with him getting shot that no one told him. Y/N, I’m telling you, up until 1:22 pm today, he thought you were married to Grant Anderson.” Y/N almost grimaced at the mention of her almost-husband.

“Well, what good is it now, he’s got little miss Ashley, who, by the way, IS NOT invited to girls’ night.”

But she was, of course she was. But it wasn’t just her, oh no, the entirety of the BAU had invited themselves out.

Everyone was stuck in their own little conversations around the table and Y/N felt like the odd one out. She looked up from her glass to see Rossi and Hotch deep in conversation, Derek and Penelope were in the middle of a story to which Emily and JJ were listening intently, and finally, the cherry on top, sitting directly across from her, was Spencer and his precious Ashley sitting practically glued at the hip with his arm around her shoulders. This was supposed to be a girls’ night out, and here Y/N was, feeling as miserable and insignificant as ever.

“I’ll be right back.” She said to no one in particular as she got up from the table, not that anyone noticed or heard. Spencer caught her leaving out of the side of his field of vision but Ashley quickly began telling him another story. Y/N had almost made it out of the bar when a familiar voice stopped her.

“Y/N, hey!” She turned to see none other than Anderson himself, looking quite put together and smiling very largely at her.

“Hey! Um, you out here too?” She smiled awkwardly and looked around for his friends.

“Yeah, came out for drinks with the guys from the White Collar Crimes division. Hey, you should come say hi.” He nodded his head towards a table full of men. Y/N glanced back at her table and saw that no one was looking for her so she shrugged and agreed.

She sat at the table and they all immediately brought her into the conversation, which made her mood lift significantly.

Had Grant always been this funny? She thought. As the guys settled down after their stories, Grant turned to Y/N.

“Can I get you a drink?” He offered nicely and she thought about it. She spent 11 years with this man, what could one drink possibly do? 

As they sat at the bar and chatted, Y/N noticed that Grant was being extra gentlemanly and just...nice.

“So, yeah, this is my life now.” He tilted his beer at the table they were at previously.

“They’re really nice guys, I’m glad you’re happy at work.” She smiled and nodded. Grant smiled back and studied her for a moment.

“Um, so...I was wondering...I mean, do you...are you still sure about all this?” He gestured between them, “It’s just that we get on so well and I um, really wouldn’t mind doing it all over again for you.” He ended his sentence with a genuine smile. 

Y/N’s smile faltered from a grin to a sad smile, her eyes flitting across the bar to look for Spencer, who had been keeping a close eye on her since she left in case she was in trouble. Their eyes met for a moment but nothing longer.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She nodded with finality. Grant followed her eye-line and felt some jealousy stirring up inside.

“Wait--is this all about Reid?” Grant stared at her incredulously.

“What?! No! Of course it isn’t. We weren’t working out, I already told you.” She defended quickly, but Grant was unconvinced. He gave her a look and she avoided his eyes, “Me and Spencer are just friends, I promise. We kissed like, once, it didn’t even mean anything.”

“You kissed? When?!” Grant’s eyes immediately filled with rage, looking across the bar.

“It doesn’t matter, look, can we just step outside for a second, get some fresh air?” She tried to reason with him but before she knew it, Grant was out of the bar stool and marching his way over to the BAU’s table. Y/N followed him quickly, trying to minimize any damages.

“REID!” Grant yelled in the small bar, quickly alerting all the agents. Spencer’s worried eyes flitted to Y/N’s.

In one swift motion, Grant lunged forward to attack a still-seated Spencer, eliciting a frightened yelp from Ashley next to him. 

But thankfully, Derek was much quicker than Grant and effectively took him down yelling, “What the hell is wrong with you, man?” 

Hotch and Rossi visibly relaxed upon watching Derek drag a livid Grant outside the bar. Mortified, Y/N grabbed her things and ran out, unable to meet any of their eyes. She flagged a cab and tried to stop the sobs from tumbling out of her.

Needless to say, the next month was the most awkward month she’d ever been through. Anderson was lucky he’d only been suspended without pay and not actually arrested for attempted assault of an FBI agent. She was downright mortified after what had happened at the bar and had fully retreated into herself, having finally moved out into her own apartment. Her pickiness ended when she realized she couldn’t stay with Garcia anymore.

 Even JJ had tried multiple times to set her up with one of Will’s friends, but Y/N always refused. Invites to bar nights were turned down and ignored. Her days consisted of waking up, going to work, coming back home, pretending to unpack but in reality avoiding it and ending up sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream. The entire team felt for her, but Spencer especially felt for her as well as felt like an absolute moron. Not about what had happened at the bar, he didn’t really care if Anderson had beat him up, maybe he deserved it for making her feel this way. 

He watched curiously from his desk as Derek and Penelope walked through the glass doors of the BAU and stood at her desk. Penelope placed a heavy cookie tin on the raised part of the receptionist’s desk, the sound making Y/N look up from her computer.

“Morning, lil’ mama.” Derek grinned at her.

“Morning, D. Hey, Pen. What are you two up to?” Y/N’s gaze shifted between them suspiciously, “And what’s this?” She referred to the cookie tin.

“Oh, you know, just your favorite homemade chocolate chip cookies.” Garcia said with a smile. She watched as Y/N’s face lit up and immediately reached for the tin but Penelope held it securely.

“Uh-uh-uhh,” Derek taunted with a smirk.

“What? Why can’t I have the cookies?” Y/N huffed.

“These, my love, are a bribe and I’m not afraid to admit it.” Penelope said with a dramatic upturn of her chin.

“Oh no.” Y/N said.

“Oh yes.” Derek and Penelope both said. When Y/N rolled her eyes and was about to refuse, Penelope opened the top of the tin and Y/N took a peek and was hit by a whiff of heavenly chocolate chips.

“Fine, I will listen to your offer, but no promises.” She tried to stay strong even though the scent of the cookies was already driving her mad.

“We thought you might say that, which is why the entire tin is the bribe.” Derek said smoothly and Y/N’s jaw dropped.

“That is low, chocolate thunder!” She exclaimed and Spencer unwillingly smiled at her reaction.

“Anyway, you get this entire tin of cookies IF you agree to come to Rossi’s tonight.” Penelope offered and Y/N paused to think about it.

“I don’t know, Pen…” Y/N began.

“Come on, pretty girl, we miss you. You haven’t been out in ages.” Derek tried. Y/N’s heart pulled in her chest, maybe she did miss them too.

“Alright, fine, fine! I’ll come.” Y/N crossed her arms, trying to hide her smile as Derek and Penelope celebrated with a hug and a cheer, “Now, give me these!” She stood and grabbed a cookie, quickly taking a bite and visibly melting back into her chair from the taste.

“See? I told you that would work. No one can say no to my cookies.” Penelope whispered to Derek as they separated to begin their days.

She finally got some motivation to empty her bags and boxes when she returned to her apartment. It was mainly because she had to look for an appropriate outfit to wear. Ever since she’d moved, she’d been picking out her work clothes and pajamas from her suitcases, rewearing all the blouses and skirts that don’t need ironing, but it’s time to start taking care of herself again. Perhaps she felt like the clothes she was wearing didn’t belong to her anymore, she decided that she’d take herself shopping soon. After a relaxing shower, she picked out a black satin blouse and tucked it into a pair of fitting blue jeans.

Arriving at Rossi’s, she took a deep breath before ringing the bell.

“Ciao, bella!” Rossi graciously greeted, hugging her tightly, “We’re all so glad you could make it. Come on in, dinner is almost ready.” Rossi’s warm greeting eased the anxiety that bubbled in her chest. She was also greeted warmly by everyone in the room when she walked in. Penelope pulled her to sit next to her immediately.

“You look stunning!” Penelope complemented, making Y/N blush.

“I agree, you are looking hot as hell, mama.” Derek chipped in, making her laugh.

“Oh, hush, you two.” Y/N rolled her eyes and accepted the glass of wine that Emily offered her. She sipped on the wine, glancing at Spencer over the rim of the glass. He caught her eye and sent her a small smile. Y/N sent him a small one back before feeling herself shut down as everyone around her started conversations. She hadn’t noticed just how much she depended on Spencer for conversation in outings with the BAU until his attention was taken away. He would always stick to her side but now he had someone else’s side to stick to. With no Anderson and no Spencer, she really had to fend for herself. All night, she felt this indescribable weight on her shoulders. She did everything to try to get rid of it.

Soon, one glass of wine with dinner turned into two, then somehow turned into two rounds of whiskey. Before she knew it, she was up dancing with Derek and Penelope in the middle of the garden. They all had migrated into the backyard after dinner, where most people were chatting and eating dessert.

“Spencer, are you listening to me?” Ashley’s voice cut through Spencer’s daze.

“I’m sorry, what?” Spencer turned to her, he’d been caught up watching them dance, secretly wishing it was him she was grabbing onto for support instead of Derek. If it wasn’t for his damn knee, he would have joined them in dancing.

“I asked you if you wanted another slice of cake.” Ashley said, with a small smile on her face. She was nice, but she wasn’t her.

“Oh, no thanks, I’m good.” He shook his head and reverted his attention to the dancing trio. She was finally smiling, he hadn’t seen her smile that wide in so long. Her laugh was heard across the garden and somehow it seeped right into Spencer’s bloodstream. The familiar feeling of jealousy creeped up on Spencer as he watched her twirl herself in and out of Derek’s arms.

“See? Aren’t you glad you came out tonight?” Derek smiled as she twirled back against his chest. 

She nodded and smiled, a tad bit too tipsy, “Yeah, I guess.”

Penelope grinned and pulled her away from Derek, “Alright! Quit hogging her, I wanna dance with her too!” Y/N laughed and wrapped her arms around Penelope, burying her face in her shoulder.

“Thank you for everything, Pen.” They swayed and Penelope squeezed her harder.

“Anytime, sugarplum.”

“Alright, I’m just about beat. I need some dessert.” Y/N said, pulling back and dragging them both to where everyone was.

While eating dessert, she watched as Spencer continued to converse with Ashley and felt her blood boiling beneath her skin. Or maybe that was the alcohol, she wasn’t sure. It was like a cloak of clarity cascaded upon her. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of everyone and speaking loudly, loud enough to halt the ongoing conversations. With her eyes on Spencer, she only ever had her eyes on Spencer.

“Spencer, I called off my wedding because of you. And now we’re not even friends. You were my best friend, the closest person to me. I don’t know what happened, but I miss you. I don’t want things to ever be this weird between us again. And--and I shouldn’t have been with Grant, I know that. There were so many reasons not to marry him, but the truth is I was ready to ignore every single one until I met you. I asked myself why I waited so long to get married and I thought I just wasn’t ready but I knew I didn’t want him,” she paused to swallow, her tears blurring her vision, “I want you. And now you’re with someone else, and that’s fine. She’s wonderful and she makes you happy and that’s fine,” A few tears escaped and she realized what she was doing, “and I think I’m drunk and I shouldn’t be driving home so if someone could drop me off that would be great.” She dropped her plate on the table and quickly made it inside, leaving a group of agents completely stunned.

And just like that, the weight she’d grown so accustomed to seemed to dissipate from its place on her shoulders.

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[mediocre--writing]

au where steves dad is the abusive one?

ok i saw this whole thing a while back about how nancy slapped steve in s1 and he didn’t flinch or cower away and people said it could be a result of getting used to not flinching...

so steve’s dad is an all powerful, mighty businessman who needs the perfect wife and kid, meaning it has to be that way at home, as well.

steve is kinda used to it. like a little slap here and there are no big deal and he’s a little brat most of the time, so he kinda deserves it.

and, let’s just say, maybe billy moved to hawkins with his mom and her new husband (max’s dad) but he’s still pretty upset with the move. not as destructive, but still mad he’s been pulled from his home.

he befriends steve pretty quickly, they’ve got very similar personalities deep down and they recognize it pretty quickly.

billy’s a clingy friend. he’s the type of person to find one friend and latch on for life.

that’s why it’s so peculiar to him that he’s been friends with steve for almost a year now but has yet to go to his house.

steve’s always busy or his parents are having a brunch party or something. and billy gets it, sometimes you just don’t wanna be at your house and need a getaway, but this is bordering on ridiculous.

ridiculous as in steve has a drawer and a half of his stuff in billy’s vanity, plus a few jackets hanging on the hooks by the door. it’s weird.

and so, one random sunday that billy knew steve had nothing to fill his time on, he goes to his house as a surprise.

he had blissfully ignored the little signs between steve, himself, and his mom. the ones that flinch at loud noises and don’t particularly like bigger men. he figured it was whatever. he’d continue to barge into steve’s life if it was the last thing he’d do.

he rang the doorbell, waited for an answer.

“...nd when i get back there you better get rid of that bullshit you call a sense of humor or i’m gonna give you a real reason to cry!”

billy’s eyes widened at what he’d heard, but quickly composed himself as a man, he assumed john, steve’s father, answered the door.

“hi, how can i help you?” he was buttoning his shirt cuffs and looking annoyed as ever while staring down billy. as if he had better things to be doing.

“i’m here for steve,” billy have a small smile that felt more like a snarl.

“he’s busy right now—“

“but we’ve got a project. it’s due monday and we’re only halfway through,” billy chuckled as if he were telling an amusing anecdote. “you see, i’ve been blowing off our study meetings and he’s been telling me, you know, i’ve gotta do my share of the project, but i’ve been goofing off. you get that? right?

“so, anyway, my moms all on me about my grades and i need this project to boost it up, but i can’t do it without steve,”

john is still staring at billy with a nonamused look on his face.

“what class?”

“english. we’re supposed to compare and contrast whether elizabeth should have gotten with darcy or not. i’m pretty against it, you know. he was so mean to her and his only excuse was that he’s shy? sounds like a load of crap, ya know? but steve’s all for this mushy crap. he swears they should be together forever,” billy chuckles and keeps talking. “you know—“

“kid, if you shut up right now i’ll make sure steve’s down in a second, alright?” john finally cuts him off, looking about ready to rip his own hair out (or what’s left on the sides).

smiling, billy thanks him and walks to stand by his car, waiting for steve.

“go,” john says as he storms into steve’s room.

steve’s eyebrows furrow. his dads gotten mad before, sure, but never just kicked him out like this.

“your little friend... the one with the curly hair... he’s waiting outside for you to complete your english project,” john tweaks an eyebrow as he leans on steve’s doorframe.

steve’s eyes widen then he nods, collecting school stuff, just to make whatever lie billy spewed out believable. he pulls on a shirt and grabs a coat as he makes his way downstairs.

“when you get home,” john starts as he stands near the door, waiting for steve to come down, “we’re finishing our discussion, do you understand?”

“yes, sir,” steve nods as he smiles to his mother, swinging his backpack over his shoulder, which is the wrong move because it smacks and rubs at where the belt had hit earlier.

“go on, don’t keep him waiting,” john opens the door and steve practically sprints out the door.

billy gives a half smile as he gets in the car, steve walking around to the passenger seat and getting in, throwing his book bag in the backseat.

billy backs out of the (ridiculously long) driveway and starts driving out of the neighborhood.

“we don’t... actually have a project i forgot about by some chance, right?” steve asks meekly.

“i’m not even taking english this semester, steve,” billy says as a joke, but it comes out softer and almost sounds like he’s scared to say the wrong thing.

“why did you stop by?” steve asks as the boys pull up near the entrance to the trails that lead through the woods towards the quarry.

billy only shrugs as he turns the car off and gets out, walking down a trail, steve quickly following behind.

“you didn’t answer,”

“i—i don’t know?” billy admitted, shoving his hands into the tight pockets of his jeans. “i guess, i’ve never really seen your house and i was curious,”

steve nods as they continue walking in silence, only the crunching of leaves under their feet.

steve keeps glancing over to billy, wonders if billy can tell what happened by the way steve’s walking or talking.

billy keeps glancing over to steve, wonders what’s going through his head and how badly he wants to cry or scream.

eventually, after about 15 minutes of walking in silence, they reach the peak of the quarry, and billy sits down and hangs his feet off the edge.

he pats the spot to his left when steve stays standing behind him.

steve sits down reluctantly, careful not to scoot too close to the edge.

“my dad is a piece of shit, too,” billy says quietly as he looks over to steve, trying to gauge his reaction.

steve’s big eyes grow even wider before his head snaps over to billy, mouth opening and closing multiple times.

“it’s why my mom and i moved here. she divorced him when i was like, uhh—i don’t know—maybe eight or nine? but he kept bothering us. would show up at night and bang on the door, threaten my me and my mom, all that kinda stuff. it got worse when my mom started dating trevor, he kidnapped me once, when i was 10,

“got me out of school and just took me to his house and wouldn’t let me leave or make phone calls. trevor, he was a police officer in cali, and he was the one who helped my mom find me,” billy smiled as if it was a nice little story. “i don’t know what i would have been like if i’d have gotten stuck with my dad. he was mean and vile and hit my mom and i all the time until we just left, it’s the only thing that stopped it,”

“billy—“

“it’s not a pity story, steve. i’m trying to let you know that bad situations only get worse when you try to solve them on your own. and i know your parents probably won’t divorce or anything, so let me help you because i don’t want something to go too far one day that could have been avoidable if you just had someone,”

“i don’t—“

“don’t what?” billy asked, but it sounded more like a threat.

steve’s eyebrows pulled together and he sucked his lips between his teeth, face screwing up in a way that looked almost painful. “i don’t—i don’t know what i did—“

steve let out a gaspy sob that looked like it hurt coming out of his chest, tears that had been pooling for months finally breaking through the barrier, cascading down his face and, if this wasn’t such a heartbreaking moment, almost made his big brown eyes look prettier.

billy, scooting himself off the edge, pulled steve backwards so he could fall into billy’s chest and let it all out.

“you didn’t do anything, stevie,” billy brought a gentle hand up and down steve’s back and arm, “none of this is your fault, i promise. nothing you have done or will do is ever going to make his actions justified, ok?”

steve nodded his head slowly as he continued to cry, but it was less sobbing and more overflowing emotions at this point.

“do you wanna stay at mine tonight?”

“...please,”

“of course,” billy was tempted to kiss steve on the crown of his head, so he did. “you are welcome whenever you need to come over,”

“i’m scared to go back,” steve whispered, heard only slightly over the high winds.

“you don’t have to go back,” billy whispered in return.

“yeah, i do,” steve whispered again, “he’s already mad you interrupted—“

“interrupted what?” billy asked, wondering why steve left off his sentence.

“noth—“

“interrupted what?”

“was hittin’ me with ‘is belt,” steve said into billy’s chest, quiet as he could.

“stevie,” billy cooed, and, somehow, steve didn’t feel like he was being talked down to. it may have been the way it was said or who said it, but it made him feel safe.

they kept sitting their for another hour, at least, and just enjoyed the noise of nature. not loud men, not threatening home lives, just birds singing and wind blowing and the water lapping below the edge.

[jeonqqin]

man up. [m] | pt. 5

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: future smut, language, very brief mention of past child abuse (they were pushed and got hurt), panic attack

a/n: I have no idea how this chapter got this real? THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A STUPID SILLY FIC

▸ request

CHAPTERS:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song 

© jeonqqin 2020

—UNEDITED

“Just fucking leave me alone Jisung.”

“Hyunae, hold on—”

Jisung sighed, his palm rubbing harshly into his eye to soothe the sting of oncoming tears. 

He was both devastated and relieved after his night with Hyunae. Granted, he hadn’t gotten any sleep whatsoever last night, but it was done, he really did it. Minho said he didn’t have the balls, but he fucking did, so fuck Minho. 

“No! Just… get out.”

But there was the other side of his mind that was screaming at him for ruining a relationship that he put so much time into. It kept asking him why. Why did he do it? What pushed him to end it? 

The true answer stared him in the face, but just as he had done for his whole like, he denied it. 

“I knew this was going to happen anyway. I was just waiting for you to open your fucking eyes, Jisung.”

It had nothing to do with you. Why would it? 

There was no romantic feeling between you and him, none at all. So there would be no reason for him to break up with his girlfriend on your accord. But he couldn’t ignore the way you ran out of the diner, and how terrified he had been all night with the absence of you. You hadn’t called him or Felix to let them know that you were fine, so of course he was worried, pacing back and forth around his girlfriend’s dorm until she snapped at him. It was possibly the worst timing for them to get into a fight, but it was also an opportunity for Jisung to just say it. 

He wanted to break up. 

He wouldn’t be quieted or controlled anymore. 

He was no longer going to listen to her bicker with his friends over the smallest things. 

Jisung had officially grown a backbone. 

And that had nothing to do with the comment Hyunae made after you left. A comment that she had no place to make. She was the one in the wrong that night, but he was the one being scolded and cursed at. It was always him that was at fault in the end, no matter what happened or how it happened. It was always stupid Han Jisung. 

Stupid stupid Han Jisung.

To say that his dormmate was surprised to see him after months of never sleeping in his assigned bed would’ve been an understatement. But thankfully Haechan didn’t ask any questions about why Jisung’s eyes were puffy or what he was doing showing up so late at night. Jisung respected that about the normally eccentric boy. 

That night he hadn’t been plagued with nightmares of his now ex-girlfriend, but a memory of his childhood, leaving his chest feeling heavy the next morning. He remembered how scorching hot the summer sun was on the back of his neck as he sat idle on the steps of his best friend’s house. He could hear the screaming and yelling of Minho’s cracking voice, another—deeper—baritone booming over it. Jisung has always wondered how Minho could be so brazen, staring into the eyes of every new man that walked into his house. 

Minho never really talked about it, but Jisung had picked up enough over the years to know that your dad was no longer in the picture, and that caused some conflicts between Minho and the men that he thought was trying to fill that position. Jisung never met your father, as he was barely six years old and hadn’t yet met Minho, but he grew to learn how much Minho idolized the absent man. 

Jisung remembered the loud thud before the crash of something breaking. He also remembered the way his neck heated and legs trembled. But he would do as promised and wait for his friend to walk out the door so they could hop on their bikes and just get away. Minho always asked Jisung to wait for him while he planned a confrontation. 

It was taking longer than usual.

Jisung met Lee Minho when he was eight years old, during an attempt to catch frogs in a small pond in the neighborhood. His family had just moved into the area and Jisung was too shy to really approach any of the children in the houses around him so he opted to play on his own. His brother was too old to play with him, and he honestly didn’t mind. 

He got used to it and learned to entertain himself. 

Minho approached all high and mighty, asking why Jisung was trying to catch the frogs in his special frog hunting spot, but was cut short by the smaller boy apologizing profusely and stumbling over his feet to stand. Only to find himself landing on his ass and soaking his green cargo shorts in mud. Minho had barked a laugh, his mouth opening to say something, but slamming closed as a frog jumped up and collided with Jisung’s cheek, nearly scaring the life out of the already petrified boy. Minho had then jumped into the pond with giggles falling out of his lips as Jisung laughed alongside him despite the tears falling down his face. 

The night ended with your mother peeling leeches from both of the crying boys, and you making them a poorly executed cup of hot (lukewarm at best) chocolate to get rid of the sting. 

Why you thought that was going to help—Jisung didn’t know. 

Though, Minho still drank it in one breath and thanked you for making the pain go away with uneven sniffs. That was the first moment Jisung witnessed Minho suppress his feelings on your accord, and it certainly hadn’t been the last. Jisung didn’t blame his new friend at the time though, since he found himself eager to gulp down the drink to witness the same toothy smile you sent to your brother—but only directed at him. 

It was worth the small stomach ache. 

“Don’t touch him! Don’t you fucking dare touch my son.” 

The voice or your mother rang clear as a bell in Jisung’s head, the usual calming tone was missing and urgency was all he could hear at that moment. The air only read “get away” as he continued to listen carefully to what was happening behind the closed door. He had listened to many fights, but even after knowing Minho for three whole years none of them had escalated beyond shouting. 

Jisung’s instincts tried to kick him into gear, but he still sat there, his loyalty outweighing his better judgement.

The argument shifted between your mother and the man, Minho’s voice suddenly eerily absent. Jisung felt his heart pulse for his friend, his mind wandering to only the worst scenarios and his eyes welling up with irritating tears. But his gaze stayed unwavering, locked on the swaying tire swing he and Minho had put up themselves earlier that summer. 

The door swung open, letting the voices be heard clear from the kitchen. Jisung’s head swung around carefully to watch as Minho rushed outside, his face bright red, almost unnaturally so. He left the door open, not even bothering to close it behind him. 

“—he tripped. I didn’t know he was going to fall, honey. I’m sorry—”

“If you ever lay another hand on my child, you will never see the light of day again.” Your mother’s voice threatened, plaguing Jisung’s young mind. 

“I would never purposefully hurt Minho—”

Jisung had shut the door, turning on his heel to follow his friend. 

Minho had been fuming. His cheeks red—though one more red than the other, but Jisung wouldn’t once ask about it—and drenched with fresh tears, his hand furiously whipping it all away. 

Jisung watched as Minho punched and kicked at the trees and flower beds in the backyard, making a mess of the once tidy space. But he just let his friend go, not saying one word to the boy. Jisung knew that he would be acting like a baby in Minho’s situation and was baffled by his friend’s strength. Minho was Jisung’s hero back then, and he sometimes missed that feeling when he took the time to reminisce. 

It was only when Minho was somewhat calmed down, that you walked out to check on your brother. Your eyes were rimmed with red and your hands fisted the fabric of your shirt. 

Every fight, you were always there to catch it all; a bystander like Jisung. 

And despite his state—a steadily swelling cheek and a darkening welt on his forehead—Minho still pulled you into his arms to comfort your hiccuping form. He denied every worry and question that fell from your wobbly lips, and Jisung had a sense of dejavu each time. 

It had been a rinse and repeat process for years; Minho would cause trouble and get into fights, and he would console you each and every time you showed any worry. 

Neither you or Minho spoke about it, but Jisung knew that it was only Minho’s way of trying to protect you. With your dad gone, Minho moved to fill that gap, just trying too hard without a complete understanding of the line he shouldn’t cross. 

Jisung had no idea why he had that dream, but the heavy weight in his chest began to push him in wanting to see Minho.

You couldn’t tell if you were having a good morning or not. 

The date with Chan had gone incredibly well, that was for sure. He was sweet, such a gentleman, and the time you spent with him wasn’t at all boring by any means. He was absolutely perfect. 

So why were you panicking?

Of course, there was the initial fear when you woke up in the morning to see that your little make out in his car wasn’t so little after all, and that your neck looked as if someone had tried to maul you. And the more makeup you piled over it barely made a difference, so the fact that you told Chan that you would go over to the apartment in the morning so he could show you the track he had put so much effort into, wasn’t exactly as exciting as it had been last night. 

At the apartment you could run into Minho—or Jisung. 

God, you completely forgot about Jisung. 

You hadn’t seen him in a few days for classes, the small break in your school schedule being a true blessing, and you suddenly felt guilt crawl up into your chest. The situation with Hyunae wasn’t necessarily his fault, and you realized that after a few days to yourself. They were dating, of course they were going to act like a couple. You were simply being a big baby about a bit of PDA. 

He had a girlfriend. 

Right, why were you so worried about a few hickies when he had a girlfriend?

Why were you even bringing up that fact that he had a girlfriend when that didn’t even matter?

Why were you still so terrified that you had visible evidence of Chan’s lips on your neck when Jisung wasn’t in love with you and you weren’t in love with Jisung?

Why did you feel so guilty? 

Staring at the purple marks on your neck had your mind flickering back to the moment when you first saw Jisung with the same little round spots on his own collar. Back in your first years of secondary school when Jisung basically lived at your house, him and Minho stopped paying much attention to you. It was a phase in your brother's life where he was getting into too many fights with his peers, and spending less time with you. And when you were that age you were pretty butt-hurt about it. 

Jisung and Minho had just returned back from a party, one that you hadn’t received an invitation to—not that Minho would allow you to go anyway—and they trampled up the stairs at two in the morning without a care in the world or a second thought about you nor your mother that were trying to sleep. How your mom managed to stay sleeping that night was beyond you.

And with your brother’s room right next door to yours, it was impossible to get back to sleep, their loud excitement too much for the thin wall between you to block out. So, you peeled your covers off your body and stomped into their room to give them a deadly glare and a good smack to the backs of their heads. 

Grumpily, Minho apologized and promised to be quieter, but Jisung simply smirked and tugged you down onto his lap to coo at how cute your puffy and tired face was. It was around the same time of your life when Jisung learned to push back his anxieties and began gaining self confidence, since that was something he desperately lacked when he was younger. But with confidence came the flirting. 

He chalked it up to “sibling like teasing” but you couldn’t deny the massive crush you had on the boy back then. So the feeling of his skinny arms wrapping tightly around you and his (then blonde) fringe ticking your cheeks, was almost too much for your poor heart to take. 

And then you saw the red spots lining his neck and momentarily froze, confusion haunting your train of thought and throwing you for a loop. You weren’t stupid, you knew exactly what those were, but for some reason, it didn’t occur to you that Jisung would ever get them. 

But there they were and it had definitely punched a small hole in your heart that night. 

You were all adults now though, surely they knew that you were bound to grow up sooner or later. It would be ridiculous if they decided to throw a fit now, right? You were in college for god sake, you were allowed to have a boyfriend.

Or—a Chan. Whatever you and Chan were, you were allowed to have it dammit.

So why was your hand shaking as it lifted to grab the door knob?

Amongst your inner turmoil you hadn’t heard the heavy step of Jisung walking up the stairs. He was so exhausted that he hadn’t even noticed you until he was scaling the last few steps of the three story apartment complex. He paused for a moment as he watched you hesitate at the door, your eyes glued down on your hand. 

A sudden wave of so many emotions rushed through him at the sight of you in a baggy sweater that fell around your thighs, the black spandex of your shorts peeking out from underneath. Even from behind, Jisung could tell that you were tired, your hair all messy and cute. His heart swelled in his chest. 

Of course you would be the one to dissolve all of his stress. He should’ve known. 

With a deep sigh, Jisung felt himself smile. He ascended the last few steps and sidled up behind you, eyes heavy from lack of sleep. You still had yet to notice his presence, and that had him chuckling under his breath. Your obliviousness was going to get you killed. 

Jisung slid his arms around your waist, only feeling you flinch for a second before you were relaxing back into his chest. He didn’t have room for any confusion, as he was too elated to actually hold you again. He couldn’t remember the last time he could just walk up to you and grab you without there being a fuss. Jisung missed you. 

Jisung took the opportunity to lean his jaw against your shoulder and tuck his face into the fabric of your sweater, only holding you closer. Your body wash had always been his favorite, not too intense that it had him nauseous, but sweet and soft enough to tempt him into placing a line of gentle pecks along the expanse of your skin—

That settled it, the break up was officially driving him insane. 

With a sigh and a curt laugh, you closed your eyes and leaned your head to the other side. Jisung’s eyes widened for those few moments when the invitation was right there in front of him, and some sick part of him wanted to scatter marks over the soft plane of your skin. In his daze, he wondered what kind of noises you would make if he bit down and made a mess of your pretty collar; if you would beg and whine or release little breathless gasps. He was right there—so damn close. 

His tongue ran along his bottom lip at the thought. 

What was happening to him?

“I’m sorry for just standing out here. I must look crazy.” You breathed, hands wrapping around his forearms. 

Jisung huffed a laugh, nudging your shoulder with his chin, just enough to shift your sweater off to the side. “No, you—”

Both of you froze at the same moment—complete different reasons why. 

The warm body behind you wasn’t Chan. 

Your mind was screaming at you to get away, telling you that you shouldn’t feel so comfortable with Han Jisung pressed intimately against your back. With his hands gripping your waist and chin resting on your shoulder where some other man's lips had kissed you, where Chan had—

Jisung saw the angry purple bruises before he could process the rest of what he wanted to say. They had been hidden behind the strategic collar of your sweater, and he suddenly felt a wave of an emotion that hadn’t risen to the surface for years climb up into his chest. 

He quickly unraveled himself from you, face flushing red as he took multiple steps backwards, his back colliding harshly against the door of the apartment across from Minho’s. Jisung couldn’t care less about the sudden pain that rocketed up his spine, his attention locked onto the massacre on your clavicle. 

Speechless, Jisung could feel his chest tightening and breathing quicken within his ribcage. Everything was so much worse than it had been before. At least he had a form of relief from breaking things off with Hyunae, now all he could feel was the crippling weight of your eyes on him. He felt completely exposed and dejected.

He couldn’t breathe. 

“Ji—” You attempted to lean forward and grab his arm, brows pulled into a worried frown. 

He felt stupid. 

“I—shit. I’m sorry,” he whispered, shrinking away from your reaching hand and hurrying past you to shove his extra key into the lock, twisting it open faster than he had ever done in his life. It was a miracle that he could even get the key into the hole with how badly his hands were shaking. 

Stupid stupid Jisung. 

Jisung barely registered the confused concern that flashed across Changbin’s face as he sped past him, his sights set solely on the last room on the left. Slamming the door behind him, Jisung couldn’t help but feel like he was dying, his chest aching and body suddenly warm. 

“Sung?” A groggy Minho lifted from under his sheets, his chest bare and bedhead wild. “What the hell?”

“I’m so stupid,” Jisung rasped, tugging at the collar of his shirt and collapsing back against Minho’s desk chair. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

“What happened?”

But Jisung could barely hear anything over the sound of his heart beating, the echoing drum in his skull. 

Minho frowned, lifting from his bed and pulling a shirt over his head in order to cross over to his best friend. Jisung looked absolutely exhausted, heavy-lidded eyes staring out at nothing as his hands raked through his gelled hair, ruining the style he had probably spent his whole morning on. 

It had been years since Minho had seen Jisung in such a state. There had been brief moments where Jisung got uncomfortable going to crowded parties or big lectures, but there was nothing small about how he was acting now. 

A brief memory of a crying boy covered in mud and soaked to the bone flashed through his head. 

Minho sighed, rubbing a palm over his face as he took a seat on the floor beside the desk chair that Jisung had claimed. Minho’s hand moved up to pat Jisung’s knee, “Well, Sung… Let’s get over this bitch together, okay?”

You felt your face pale as you took a slow step into the apartment, closing the door behind you. The look of fear that Jisung sent you was heartbreaking, his eyes wide and jaw clenched so hard that you knew for sure that it had to hurt. 

“The hell happened out there?” Changbin asked, tone stern but confused. 

You cringed, feeling your face heat up. 

“He…” You debated telling him—perhaps he already knew? Either way, it wasn’t your place to say anything. The last thing you wanted was to get even further on Jisung’s bad side. 

What did you even do to set him off?

“He what, Y/n? What happened?” Changbin placed down the cook utensil that had been gripped tightly in his fist. 

It felt weird to see Changbin distressed, as he was usually the calm during the storm, keeping a level head even when things took a turn for the worst. But you figured you’d be the same way if you just saw one of your best friends in such a state and not have any prior knowledge of the situation. 

“He started freaking out,” you finally said, voice low. “I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

But you really weren’t sure, and it was easy to tell that Changbin didn’t believe you.

“Are you sure you want to leave it at that, Y/n?” 

Your lip wobbled for a quick second as your eyes locked on something off to your right. It was difficult to sit still under the heavy gaze of Changbin, but really, there was nothing else you could say. You wouldn’t tell him anything that could reveal too much, and if that meant you would have to endure his interrogation with sealed lips, then that was what you had to do. 

You nodded slowly, “Mhm.” 

Changbin’s eyebrows rose in shock, his arms moving to cross over his chest. “Seriously? You’re not going to tell me why Jisung just ran in here breathing like he was in fucking labor?” 

You nodded again, more sure than the last time. 

“He’s with Minho. He’ll be fine.”

“You’re just going to be super cryptic and annoying then.” Changbin said, frustration clear on his face. “No explanation at all.”

“Sorry.” 

He looked at you as if he didn’t believe you, but you honestly were. You knew how shitty it felt to have people you care about hide things from you, since you went through a whole phase of it with Minho—hell, he still hid shit from you half the time. But if anyone was going to tell Changbin what was going on, it was going to be Jisung. 

Because there was no way in hell that you were going to break all rules of trust and tell someone that Jisung suffered from panic attacks. 

Granted, he used to get them all the time when he was young, therefore they were less of a secret and more of a “who possibly didn’t know?” type of deal. A lot of things set him off, and the fact that his parents completely uprooted their lives every two years didn’t help. Thankfully, they had gotten the hint and decided to hold off on moving until Jisung was out of school and ready to go off on his own. 

But it had been a long time since you witnessed one so bad, and you didn’t want to share that secret with anyone. You knew Changbin was one of the most trustworthy people you knew, but it wasn’t your news to spread. 

Changbin’s eyes scanned your form for a moment, his gaze only pausing on your neck for a fraction of a second, and if you hadn’t known what he was looking at, you wouldn’t have noticed anything different. 

“Fine.” He said, spinning on his heel and returning to the small kitchen. He was frustrated and you felt bad about that, but he would hopefully know soon enough. 

And like clockwork, the bathroom door then opened, Chan emerging with damp hair and thankfully fully clothed. It wasn’t the time to get distracted by his incredible body, you’d probably just feel even more guilty if that was even possible. 

“Y/n,” Chan chimed, voice full of life and excitement as he all but blinded to your side like an excited puppy. Though, his cheery nature wouldn’t be enough to raise your spirits—if anything he dampened them further, even more guilt gnawing at your chest. 

He grabbed your limp arms and rugged you forward, nearly pulling you into his chest. You felt your brows furrow and your head tilt away as he leaned forward to place a kiss on your lips, only to miss and land on the side of your head. Chan immediately pulled away with blinking eyes, his pretty lips open in slight surprise. 

You cringed. 

The universe was really against you today, huh?

“Is something wrong?” Chan asked, voice full of concern. 

What a perfect guy. 

You nodded, lips pulling in a tight line. “The morning has just been a little crazy…” 

Eyes flickering up they landed on Changbin, who was already glancing your way, his own gaze skipping back and forth between you and Chan. Though, without a word he turned back to whatever breakfast he was cooking. 

“Anything I can do to help?”

Leave—

You seriously wanted to punch yourself in the face. It wasn’t Chan’s fault for what happened, and you couldn’t ever think that. He was just caught in the middle of some messed up situation that wouldn’t have even happened if you just kept your stupid heart in line. Maybe if you had never met Jisung, everything would’ve turned out fine. 

Because that would’ve solved all of your petty problems. 

“No, Channie,” you managed to send a smile to the boy. “But we should probably get out of here before things get worse.”

Chan nodded, carefully lifting his hand to cradle your jaw. 

“Okay. No problem.” 

You sighed as he gave you the most patient smile you’d ever seen. Your guilt only grew.

Could things get any worse?

As if answering your question, the door to your brother’s room swung open and quietly shut after your grey haired sibling stepped out. His face was set, jaw squared and brows furrowed. 

It was the same face that he went into every conflict with. That was the same expression he wore every time he threw a punch or when he used to pick fights with your mother’s old boyfriends. Minho was angry—with who, you weren’t yet sure. 

But he didn’t miss a beat as he stepped around Chan and took his place in front of you, his calloused and scarred hand reaching up to the neck of your tousled sweater. You didn’t even bother to pull away or wiggle out of his reach, you just kept your unwavering gaze on Minho’s face as he tugged your collar down to expose the patches upon patches of bruises that spread lower than most would consider to be modest. 

Minho kept his gaze down, refusing to look up into the wide eyes of his baby sister. He didn’t believe it when Jisung began babbling about hickies and teeth marks on your skin, his head in his hands as he finally came down from his inner panic. But there it was, clear as fucking day. 

Minho wanted to spin around and sock Chan square in the jaw, but there was something deeper seeded in his chest that kept him from doing so. He bit the skin on the inside of his cheek inside, his mouth filling with copper as he dropped his hold on your sweater and spun around. He met eyes with Chan for only a moment, getting a hard look back as he bumped past and back into his room. This time the door had slammed behind him, all caution to the wind. 

You expected yelling and screaming, a fight you were willing to endure and take. Minho was your brother—as much as he wanted to fill the hole that your dad left empty—he was just your older brother. He could scream and punch things, but you weren’t a baby anymore. What you hadn’t expected was complete silence from him, it was almost worse than him screaming… 

No, your mind flickered back to the way he refused to even look into your eyes, it was much worse.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Half of the things that regarding Tam in Kotlc frustrate me honestly. It feels like he’s pushed aside in the series so frequently, and I feel like this really peaked when he was in the Neverseen in Legacy. First off, it kinda rubbed me the wrong way the way that half of the characters were acting like Tam betrayed them? And maybe I just horribly misread the scene in which he was taken to the Neverseen, but I would not say that was a consensual decision, like at all. Gisela basically just said “Hey come with me or I’m making an entire species extinct and killing your sister.” like that’s manipulation that’s not what an honest decision looks like. I just felt so bad for him because he was borderline kidnapped by this awful group and it felt like no one was taking it seriously. Sophie reached out to him once on her own, and then once again when Linh pushes her to. That’s about all she did to try to help Tam for pretty much the entire book, unless I’m forgetting something. It just frustrates me, especially considering how much she did to try to figure out who her parents were during that book. This isn’t a thing against Sophie, it’s just that the things she did during that book kinda make it seem like Sophie being able to get a matchmakers list is more important than Tam being kidnapped. I don’t know, I just feel bad for Tam it always feels like he’s getting the short end of the stick when he seems like he’s one of the characters who would need support the most? I mean, he’s got so much to deal with and half of his scenes just feel like “here’s a scarring situation for you Tam! Now go back home to Linh or something.” Also, the way they described Tam being chained and mind-controlled actually made me sick that’s really horrific. (Also I don’t know where to put this, but characters keep acting like Tam’s super-ultra edgy and I don’t really see it? This is probably just me, but he’s always seemed more like a really stressed out person to me, not necessarily edgy. This might just be because he’s in a stressful situation in like 80% of the scenes he’s in.) I’ll be honest, Tam just kind of feels like a punching-bag character half the time.

tam is one of my favorite characters so i'm looking forward to this one, nonsie

I do feel that Tam's situation was treated very similarly to Keefe's, though there was actually a lot differentiating the two, which makes it feel weird. To summarize, Keefe ran away to the Neverseen, actively making that choice, and Sophie decided to trust him with that decision. She thought it was dumb and that they'd have to rescue him, but it had been his choice. And she coordinated with him, reaching out nightly to see what was going on and to get a sense of how he was doing. She was actively doing what she could to monitor him and balance her other responsibilities

some of this mindset carried over into Tam, while I think he should've been approached differently. because this wasn't his choice. it wasn't coordinated, and he didn't want to be there. he wanted out, and he wanted to be out safely. My mind is linking it to that one conversation with Sophie you mentioned, the one with Linh. Specifically because he told Sophie not to reach out to him, and said "I. LIKE. IT. HERE[...]I'M EVEN MAKING FRIENDS," (Legacy 407). I think this kinda led us to the "Tam wants to be there the way Keefe did" connection that really isn't accurate. he was threatened into joining, and nothing he says after the fact will erase that.

additionally, while Tam was with the Neverseen, Gethen was back and could search his mind, which was why Sophie didn't reach out to him more than twice. it was a risk that could put Tam in direct danger, and he wouldn't know when it was coming and couldn't agree to that risk. so if the two paths of action we're applying to Keefe and tam are to try and physically remove them from the situation or keep tabs on them, since contacting him is off the table, you'd think they'd focus more heavily on trying to get him back. but they...didn't.

I agree with your assessment of her priorities as well. i don't fault her for trying to figure out who her bio parents are or for wanting to explore matchmaking, i'm judging her for her timing. because she's consistently been very motivated by her friends and keeping them safe, it feels a little off that she prioritized matchmaking over Tam's physical safety. i know the love triangle and romantic drama has a lot of draw for some of the younger fandom base, but I feel as though it was prioritized too much and actually betrayed some of Sophie's key values for publicity.

and going back to the "he always draws the short end of the stick," thing, I think you're exactly right. i honestly can't think of any scenes off the top of my head with Tam where he's allowed to just be a teenager and take a break. There's always drama with him, which I think in part comes from the "sarcastic dark aesthetic friend" he's kinda gotten boxed into. he's there to be dry and pessimistic and further the conversation. note: he doesn't actually seem like a dry/dark outlook person as much as a lot of us (myself included sometimes) make him out to be. yes, he uses a lot of sarcasm, but that's not synonymous with dark and edgy.

to me he sounds like..,bitter? and resigned? and just generally annoyed to be there but doesn't want to show it. i don't think that makes sense so let me expand on it. he feels like when one friend of yours has invited you into a group of theirs friends (none of whom you know) and you're just kinda existing in the same space but are slightly uncomfortable and don't know what to do with yourself, but you don't want to let it show and risk offending anyone. you talk and fake your way through it but it feels off and you just don't like it and don't want to be uncomfortable anymore. I wouldn't be surprised if he actually has a lot of anxiety that everyone around him just doesn't pick up on

his life changed drastically very quickly and he doesn't have a lot of friends. sure, there's the group, but they're not friends in that way. tell me, can you think of one person Tam would tell his worries or fears to? I can't. the most obvious might be linh, but I don't believe he'd tell her, because he'd want to protect her instead of burdening her with his worries. I think he's tied to her a lot and seen as a package deal in a lot of canon--and frequently in fanon--so it can be hard to separate them at times,

I might be jumping around a little, but back to the chains. those are incredibly fucked up, and I don't think they're given the appropriate emotional response they deserved. this is a teenager who has been physically chained for all hours of the day, for weeks. and he's just living with it, knowing he can't take them off. and when Sophie learns and tells Mr. Forkle, his response is that he's never heard of something like that before and would need to research it. Like?? excuse me?? one of the minors you let swear fealty to your organization is literally chained and you're 1. not trying to get him back 2. just saying you need to research it.

that's another thing! everything I remember (and I might be forgetting something) is the teenagers talking about Tam being missing and how they need a plan and want him back. But there are several adults in his life now who could step forward to take that responsibility. Tiergan. Mr. Forkle, Squall, the bodyguards, any dwarves working with the Black Swan, etc. You know, these adults with loads more resources and people at their disposal. they could do something, organize something, make an effort. A child was kidnapped and it feels like they went "wow that sucks. hope we get him back. anyways--" idk. that's just something that's bothered me.

he just keeps getting hurt again and again. it's like that's all we focus on with his character, him being sarcastic and dark in stressful situations and not him just existing. we see him fighting with his parents, fighting with the neverseen, being teased and singled out when he's around Keefe, like can he catch a break? can we just let him smile for once?

I, for one, think he deserves to be more than just a punching bag, nonsie

[dat-town]

catch me if you can

Characters: Eric & You

Genre: fluff, comedy

Setting: spy au, gang au

Summary: Eric Sohn got the mission to catch you but you always managed to slip through his fingers. Little does he know: rather than him catching you, he would get stuck into your web.

Words: 3.3k

For @lily-blue​. See? I warned you I’d write you something with this Eric. You’re welcome. (Don’t worry he’s cute because I know you’re a sucker for his cuteness.)

Inspired by the Chase promotions and Eric’s rap in The Stealer: “Is it an addiction? You’re not an easy mission. Losin’ my mind. The fire’s ignited and I run to catch you.”

Eric Sohn would have liked to think he was no fool. Yet, you made him feel like one.

He stood flabbergasted at the dead end having no idea where you had gone when he was clearly chasing you close enough, this time almost catching you. But you slipped through his fingers. Again. The boy ruffled his hair in frustration and groaned in his annoyance, knowing all too well the teasing he would get from his team mates for going back to the headquarters empty handed. Again. He had been put on the task of retrieving you for weeks now and the closest he got to you was to see your cheeky smile and triumphant looks before disappearing. He started calling you Black Widow in his head. That way it hurt his pride less. You were just that good.

Eric sighed in defeat and after looking around in the dirty alley he indeed turned back to go back to the HQ where he could already feel Sunwoo’s curious eyes on him as soon as he stepped inside. That meant that Haknyeon, their IT guy who monitored his movements, didn’t tell about his failure yet.

“What’s with the long face?” Sangyeon patted their youngest on the shoulder when he walked past, oblivious to the elephant in the room that Eric didn’t want to be reminded of.

“That girl from Alpha got away again, I guess~” Sunwoo singsonged and grimaced childishly when Eric’s nose scrunched up and lifted a hand threatening to hit him. Friendly competition was an everyday occurrence at their base but sometimes Eric really hated how Sunwoo, only a few (okay, more than like six) months older than him, managed to do everything perfectly on the first try.

“Ah, is this the girl whose know-how would be crucial in order to take Alpha down?” the senior agent asked since he managed a different team with different missions this time around. Eric pouted as he nodded, admitting that his lack of professionalism held back the whole team.

His so-called Black Widow used to be a member of Alpha but a few weeks back, just before he got his newest mission, she went stray. It looked as if she was running away but not from the police but from her own gang. She was considered a traitor which would have come handy for their agency in order to deal with Alpha if they could use her knowledge about her previous team.

“You got this,” Juyeon told him kindly, encouraging but it didn’t really lift the boy’s mood. It was easy for Juyeon to say with his wide shoulders, long legs and piercing look, he was one of Cre.Ker’s top agents. When could he ever?

“Yeah, we still have time. Maybe you should approach her differently? It seems like she knows our usual tactic,” Sangyeon mused out loud and the boy nodded, agreeing. Maybe he should have changed his strategy, he just didn’t know how. But he was determined, so he didn’t give up.

Okay, so Eric’s usual tactic was to lunch onto the scene as soon as Haknyeon let him know that he spotted you somewhere. He wore all black to dissolve into the shadows more easily. He had his earpiece in and everything ready for work, so maybe that was the problem: he was being way too obvious. Aish, of course, you knew you were being tailed. So this time around he tried to take a step forward, to get ahead of you: he wandered around the neighbourhood where you usually hang out hoping to catch a glimpse of you while you wouldn’t spot him. So he didn’t wear his usual baseball cap, nor the black turtleneck, instead he opted for a printed sleeveless shirt, a leather jacket and skinny jeans. Something casual but sexy enough to not be the odd one out in the clubbing area of Itaewon. For someone who was on run you seemed to prefer this neighbourhood, so Eric took his chance and looked around.

Everything seemed ordinary that day: teens whining when bodyguards didn’t let them inside the bars and drunken people being a bit too loud. Nothing really doubtful, so Eric was very much taken aback when he was pushed to the wall in an alley and blinking his surprise away he saw you looking at him with furious eyes.

“You don’t know when to give up, right? Don’t you think you’re being suspicious by walking around the block for the third time?” you scoffed at him and it sounded so scolding that Eric’s ears burnt red.

“Well, I still got lucky, don’t you think?” he grinned, happy that he could lure you out and using this chance, he grabbed on your wrist to turn their position around and pressed your back against the brick wall, holding your hands steady. 

“You’re ruining my incognito, you stupid, it’s not luck,” you scrowled, not happy at all, and your words made the boy furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“What incognito? Is it because of Alpha?” he raised a brow and you rolled your eyes at him as if it should have been obvious. Well, maybe to you. For him, you were a mystery and it should have been his job to get info out of you. If you were hiding because of your ex-team, Cre.Ker’s plan would have come in handy for you, too. Working together could have been a win-win, only if you listened to him! “Look, we are not on opposite sides.”

“You’re seriously telling me that?” you asked pointedly looking at him holding you down which made him momentarily flustered and hesitant whether he should let you go or not.

“If I let you go, you would run away...”

“If you don’t, then we both might end up dead,” you hissed at him and a dumbfounded what? left his mouth before he noticed a shadow towering over you on the wall and turned around just in time to block the attacker. Or at least one of the bunch of gang members who decided to come at you with metal bars and baseball bats.

What the heck? How rude, Eric thought but before he could have joked that it wasn’t a nice way to say hello to a lady a.k.a you, you had already punched a guy in the face, so for a moment he just stood and stared, impressed. Then he realised the seriousness of the situation and that this time there won’t be a team back up, so he got to fight back these bad guys.

The two of you did well on your own but against like seven bulked up guys, it was almost impossible to get away without a scratch, not to mention you were also better at hiding and disappearing than fighting for your life, so you realised pretty quickly that it would have been wiser to break into a run. For a moment, you pondered over the thought of going alone, leaving this random guy who had kept following you in the past weeks behind but you got curious why he said you were on the same side and knowing Alpha, they would have tortured him if he didn’t manage to leave too. So, in the end, you let out a deep sigh and after kicking a guy hard in the stomach, you run to the boy, grabbing his elbow.

“Let’s go,” you panted and ran into a sprint, Eric following you a moment late.

The two of you were running like crazy, chased by the big guys through the Itaewon crowd. In a way it made your job easy because it was easier to blend in but also harder since there was a higher chance someone would tell where you went. You couldn’t run forever though, you needed a hideout, you knew that, so you made the decision in a split second turning unexpectedly right and then instead of running forward, you pulled the boy behind you into the first building that was there, crouching down to hide from the thugs running along.

You waited for a few moments before standing up, straightening your back and looking around only to find curious eyes on your figure. You elbowed the agent in the side to turn around as you awkwardly bowed towards the receptionist of a motel or so it seemed.

“Would you like to get a room? Or do you maybe need me to call the police?” The woman looked at your duo in suspicion already reaching for the phone on the counter.

“No need. We… we will take a room,” Eric stepped forward. He wanted to talk with you anyways, at least this way he would have a proper place to do so, without anyone eavesdropping. He glanced at you, a part of him expecting you to protest but instead you stepped forward.

“Please if my brothers come and ask about me, don’t let them know,” you dropped your voice and slid more than enough cash to the lady at the counter. If she noticed how wide Eric’s eyes had gotten, she didn’t comment on it and just gave you a key for the room in the very back. From the way his muscles get tense, you could tell the boy didn’t expect you to half-hug him to keep on the act but he swung an arm around your shoulder quickly and laughed it off when you shoved him off as soon as the door shut closed behind you.

“The fight you put up back there was impressive,” he hummed and you found it amazing that he was so casual and open about it. You rarely got compliments like this one from guys. They were too busy trying to impress you.

“I just know how to live in this harsh world,” you shrugged and shut the blinds closed after staring out of the window for a short minute.

“Bad childhood?” The agent questioned you which left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn’t a fresh wound but still.

“Fucked up life.” A scoff left your throat as you looked him in the eyes. He got pretty ones, like melted chocolate, it made you muse for a moment too long before the cruel words slipped through your lips:  “You wanna know why I left Alpha? Well, I didn’t really have a choice. They want me dead. That’s just the cherry on top.”

The laughter that you forced out was a dry one but the guy at least attempted a smile. The gesture froze onto his pale features though when he moved his arm and you heard him hiss when he shrugged his jacket off him. You might have made a comment on not being interested in his biceps if you didn’t notice the huge lilac bruise blooming on one of his shoulders. It looked like he crashed into the wall pretty damn hard.

“You got hurt because of me,” you pointed out, apology in your voice even though you knew he wasn’t your responsibility.

“It was my decision to follow you around,” he shook his head observing the injury like a kid blinking at the torn skin after falling.

“Still,” you huffed and walked into the small motel room’s even smaller fridge and pulled out the ice pack to toss it over the guy. Lucky for him his reflexes were good enough to catch it before landing. After a moment of silence watching him apply pressure on the bruise with a grimace you called for his attention with a question. “What’s your name?”

“Eric,” he answered too quickly, too easy. You clicked your tongue.

“The real one.”

The guy, Eric or whoever, cracked a mischievous smile at that.

“It’s as real as it can get. My Korean name is Sohn Youngjae if that’s what you’re curious about,” he said and the tone of his voice sounded genuine, though it could be a well made up lie that he used for a long time. Sohn Youngjae, codename: Eric, you made a mental note to yourself to not forget it in case you needed the info later on.

“Who are you working for?” you questioned next, another tick in your mental checklist which made the boy chuckle.

“Is it an interrogation?” he raised an eyebrow playfully, his smile lacking any of the previous pain, as if he forgot so quickly that he got hurt. He sounded surprised even though your curiosity was only natural.

“You told me we aren’t on the opposite side,” you explained in a more serious tone and Eric nodded at your words. After seeing what you were capable of, it was a lot more probable that he would convince you to take their side than to take you to the HQ with force or anything like that.

“Right. I can tell you my story if you tell me yours,” he suggested and reached out with his right hand for a handshake, as if it could have sealed your deal. You stared at his calloused fingers for a moment, nibbling on your lower lip before taking his hand in yours. 

“Okay,” you said knowing fully well that there was no guarantee either of you told the truth but after all it was a game of trust.

So eventually you ended up sitting on the floor with the pillows stolen from the double bed, taking turns. You learned about Eric’s hometown and the explanation behind his English name, about how he came to Korea for an internship and ended up joining a spy agency. In exchange you told him about your shitty family, the drug and alcohol issues, how you ended up on the street at 17 and stumbled into your troubled ex. You got into Alpha because of him and for a while it wasn’t that bad, just dealing for easy money. But he’s got some serious issues, so you broke up and you wanted to leave but it wasn’t so easy. And about a month ago, you saw one of the uppermen kill someone and as a witness now you were their newest target. Too bad for them: you were too good at hiding. That even Eric admitted.

“We are planning to take them down, you know. With your help, we could,” he spoke up quietly as he turned on his side to look at you from his place on the floor. You stared back at him without blinking or avoiding his intense, honest gaze. With your experience it was hard to put your trust into anyone’s hand. It was nothing personal.

“I’m not sure I trust you enough for that yet,” you told the boy, straightforward as always. He didn’t take it to the heart, based on your observations he never did.

“Well… what can you lose?” he hummed looking you straight in the eyes and his question rendered you speechless.

You in fact didn’t have much to lose. You were on the run anyways, you had no ambition to stay in the gang work but getting involved with a spy agency? What if you ended up in jail even if you helped them? You should have earned mercy at least for your help, shouldn’t you? Or maybe it was just wishful thinking to have a fresh start, a new normal life. Though you weren’t sure what was normal anymore. You liked the adrenalin, you liked the excitement running in your veins, just not the idea of having a target on your head.

So you sealed your lips and turned onto your back, staring up at the dark ceiling as if that could have answered your questions and by the time you glanced sideways at the boy to ask about his agency, you saw him asleep. His eyes closed, pouty lips slightly apart, breathing evenly. Huh, he really trusted you to fall asleep like that. You faced him to keep an eye on him but after a while you felt dreamland pulling you into the dark as well and before you knew you fell asleep on the floor next to a boy whom you barely knew.

It was you who woke up earlier, startled by the closeness and peaceful sleeping expression of Eric. His head fell off the pillow sometime during the night and his hair was quite messy, cheeks having imprints of the carpet. It was kind of cute.

Especially when he eventually woke up and rolled away from you with wide eyes as if he was afraid of you hitting him or something. You just giggled at his antics as you sat up.

“Get up. We need to leave before sunrise,” you told him and Eric reminded you of a kitten as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stared at you dumbfounded.

“What? We?”

“I’m saying I can help you catch the Alpha guys if I can get amnesty,” you let him know about your ultimatum and you had never seen a guy get up so fast after waking up. Eric seemed super enthusiastic and pretty giddy for a spy talking about getting rid of one of the most dangerous gangs of Seoul.

“I’m pretty sure that can be arranged,” he said, already grabbing at his leather jacket before turning to the bathroom. But before he would have stepped inside, you looked back at you, uncertain.

“Chill, I’m not going to run away,” you rolled your eyes and got ready to leave as well. The new receptionist was basically half asleep when the two of you eventually checked out, blending into the shadows of the pretty empty streets. Only a few early birds were out there which made you more nervous than crowds and it didn’t help that you had no choice but to trust Eric as you followed him through metro stations. Neither of you talked too much but you saw him on the phone texting with someone and when you eventually got into the elevator of a fancy office building, you turned to him, questioning.

“So where are we going?”

“To meet my team leader,” he explained so casually you raised a brow at him, hands on your waist, almost scolding.

“You’re taking me to the HQ? How can you trust me like that?” you called him out on his naivety but Eric had the audacity to laugh at you. His mouth pulled into a laugh as he turned to you and took a calculative step closer as you backed up until the elevator’s wall cautiously eyeing each of his movements.

“Look, you’re pretty deadly but I doubt you can take us all down in the heart of the organization but try your best if that’s your evil intention,” he smirked down at you, tilting his head, trying to seem intimidating in his big boy look with the leather jacket and you had the urge to pinch him on the shoulder just to see him flinch. But actually, you had a better idea.

“Do you want to know my most evil intention, Eric Sohn?” you whispered standing on your toes and you took your time with the pause on purpose, letting your gaze wander to his rosy lips before looking back into his chocolate eyes. “Seeing you blush again.”

Ding.

The elevator’s door opened and you whipped your head towards the office on the other side.

Crash.

Eric was too dumbfounded to see Haknyeon fall off his chair or Sunwoo stare at you with his jaw dropped while the boiling water Changmin was pouring into his mug started to overflow as all eyes were fixated on your duo. Casually as if nothing happened you patted Eric on the cheek, asking sweetly: 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

You pretended not to hear one of the guys yell that Eric brought his crush to the base.

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Twenty-Six

(Previous Chapter Here)

Yeah okay this took forever,,,, have fun with it! (;

Also it was too long for one post again so I’ll reblog this with the rest-

Cryptor struggles to find the solution to the latest puzzle they gave him, doing his best not to let frustration show on his face as he ignores Kyle and Martha talking in the background.

He hates this. He just… he wishes that there was some way out, some way to be free, some way to be okay again.

But there’s not. He’s stuck here, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He feels tired. So tired. Nothing even seems to make sense anymore, so his only real choice is to just… keep going. Even if the only way he can do that is to follow their orders.

Exhausted, he takes a moment’s pause from the puzzle, absent-mindedly listening in on part of the conversation going on behind him.

Martha is the one speaking. “- and when Sentry is here, we’ll be able to-“

Hold on. Did he just hear what he thinks he did? Did she just- Sentry? She’s going to bring Sentry here?!

He whips around, turning to face them. “What did you just say?!” He demands, ignoring the voice screaming at him to just do what he’s told. He can’t sit there and do nothing, not while his friend is on the line!

Kyle seems to wince some, but Martha glares. “It’s nothing you need to be concerned with, General.” She snaps. “Do not speak out of turn again, and go back to your task.”

He completely disregards the order, only staring at the two of them. They- they’re going to bring him here?! No, no, Cryptor’s been behaving, he’s been following orders, why would they-

“General, calm down.” Kyle interrupts his train of thought. “You knew it would come to this eventually, right?”

Cryptor can only stare in sheer horror as he struggles to come to terms with the implications of what they’re saying. “I- no. No, I didn’t- I-“ He abruptly stands up, pushing the small bench he’s on backwards as the metal screeches, but he ignores the loud sound, barely even able to hear it over his racing thoughts.

“No!” He shakes his head rapidly, struggling to figure out what to say. “You- you can’t-“

“Sit down, General.” Martha orders, her expression one of annoyance.

Fear and anger take over him, leaving him trembling. “You can’t hurt him!” He shouts, trying to come up with something, anything he could do to stop this.

“General! There's nothing you can do about it!” Kyle snaps, an aura of almost unease around him. “Calm down or you'll get hurt yourself!”

Okay, there’s something going on here, usually he doesn’t get so many warnings, why would-

Oh, who cares about what’s going on with that?! Sentry is at stake here!

His words showcase his fear and anger, his voice trembling as he snarls the words out. “I- I can’t just sit here and follow orders when- when you’re going to-“

Martha’s voice is dark as she narrows her eyes at him. “That’s enough, General.” There’s a clear threat to her tone, and just that is enough to make him start shaking…

For a few moments, all he can do is stand there, fighting against the urge to cave, to do what she says, to hopefully avoid punishment-

It’s a struggle, but he manages to hold his ground. “No.” He gets out, making himself hold her gaze. “No, I can’t. It’s not.”

He forces the words out even as he feels his power source kicking into overdrive- he’d rather have it ripped out than let them do what they’ve done to him to the innocent nindroid back at Borg Tower.

Shifting on his feet, Kyle seems to want to say something- but after a moment, he minutely shakes his head, looking over at Martha- likely for instructions.

Every gear and wire inside him feels abuzz with the mechanical equivalent of adrenaline, but he can’t think of what to do or say. His mind is running so fast that he can’t catch up, leaving him only able to stand and stare as the fear floods through him.

“Take it to the training room.” Martha turns to some guards as she speaks, still seeming annoyed. “It appears it needs to relearn an old lesson.”

The words send their own kind of fear through him, the thought of a punishment leaving him shaking even more. But he does his best to shove the feeling down, letting himself be escorted back to the training room and tied down once again.

There still seems to be something off about the blond as he dismisses the guards, but in all honesty, he doesn’t have enough processing power to even try and think about what it might mean.

Kyle sighs, but it doesn’t seem to be out of annoyance. “Okay, use the usual method. Just shocks for an hour.”

Wait- what? That’s it? Well, he- he doesn’t want to be punished more, but usually he gets in more trouble for this kind of thing.

He starts to voice his confusion out loud, but the shock he gets serves as a reality check, reminding him of his situation.

He’s not allowed to speak unless spoken to.

There’s silence, for a while. Which is surprising in its own way- Kyle usually gives him a lecture about what he did wrong while he’s being punished, but this time he’s… oddly quiet.

After all this time, you’d think that Cryptor would have grown numb to the pain. With everything he’s gone through, some shocks are hardly the worst thing in the world.

But somehow, he never seems to be able to quite adjust to it. Every blast of pain is just as bad as the one before it- and sometimes worse, when they start accumulating.

Breathing deeply, he looks down at the floor, struggling to hide how much it hurts. It’s- it’s not really real, anyway. It’s just… just a digital reaction designed to warn him that his circuits might be in danger. But he’s not in any real life-threatening danger, so all it does is-

A particularly painful shock jolts him from his train of thought, and he grinds his teeth as he struggles to push the pain from his mind.

In all honesty, he’s lucky that he’s had the life he did. With all the abuse he suffered from before the facility, he had actually gotten the chance to learn how to cope with this kind of thing.

But Sentry, on the other hand…

No. No, he can’t think about that. He can’t- there’s nothing he can do at the moment, he just needs to keep breathing, needs to not think about it, needs to not imagine what Sentry’s screams would sound like, needs to not picture the way he would curl in on himself as he struggled to cope, needs to not even consider what he might look like after going through even half of what he and Zane had-

He’s pulled from his downward spiral by Kyle, the blond suddenly speaking- and loudly, at that.

“OKAY! Okay, that's enough! An hour is way too long for that small of a mistake, I- Stop!”

When the shocks die down, Cryptor still can’t figure out what’s going on. Something is going on here, but Cryptor honestly doesn’t have the energy to piece together what.

He knows that he’s shaking like a leaf, and it makes his gut churn thinking about how damn weak he is, but he doesn’t dare lift his gaze.

It takes a moment for him to remember what he’s supposed to do. Right, they finished a punishment, he- he needs to confirm that he learned from it.

“ ‘m sorry, Master.”

The words are choked out and pathetic, and just hearing his own voice like that makes him want to cringe.

For some reason, Kyle seems to look uncomfortable, almost regretful in a way. “It's okay, it's- here. Let me-“

He trails off in favor of taking off Cryptor’s restraints- and after he does, he turns away, looking at the far wall.

For a second, the door tempts him. No one is watching, it would be so easy to-

No. No, he can’t do that. He has to stay, to follow orders. He gets hurt if he doesn’t follow orders. And while this punishment wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, that just means that the next one will probably be worse.

A hand comes to clutch at where one of the chains had been pulled a little bit too tight- with the shocks, he actually hadn’t even noticed the way they were digging into his plating until now.

Once again, he remembers what he’s supposed to do. Kyle let him go- and early, at that. He’s supposed to acknowledge that.

There’s no pride left for him to ignore as he speaks. “Th- thank you, Master.”

Kyle doesn’t react, looking almost lost in thought. He brings a hand up to his face, and if Cryptor didn’t know any better, he’d say the blond was trembling.

Alright, something is definitely up here, but Cryptor isn’t going to risk getting punished again for asking. Whatever it is doesn’t seem to be causing any immediate harm, so he’d be better off leaving it alone.

With no orders or distractions, his mind begins to drift. And unfortunately, his stupid processer takes him back to Sentry.

He really, really doesn’t want him to get hurt, but no matter what he does, it won’t make a difference. They’ve proven time and time again that he’s too pathetic to stand a chance, and… it’s hopeless.

Well, he- he could try to, at the very least, minimize his suffering. There has to be something he can do for that, right?

He could try taking punishments for him, but they’d catch on pretty quick, and then they’d just start hurting Sentry to get to him more. He could do something worse after every mistake Sentry makes to make them put it in kind of perspective, but that would just prolong it.

He- he could… help them. Help them- help them break him. If Sentry’s not really there anymore, then he won’t be suffering. He-

A feeling of disgust wells up inside of him as he realizes what he was even considering. No, he can’t do that, he can’t do anything like that! He can’t help them do that to him, he- he just-

Cryptor forces himself to keep breathing, trying to get his shaking under control. He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to Sentry, but if push really does come to shove…

He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

There’s an almost numb feeling spreading through him, but he’s thankfully given something else to focus on when he hears Kyle’s quiet murmur.

The blond’s voice is strained, even breaking a little as he talks. “...'m sorry, Gav…”

He seems to be trying to shove the feeling down as he clears his throat, and Cryptor could almost swear that he’s near tears.

“I'll t-take you back to your locker. You'll say you- you'll say you learned your lesson if anyone asks. This is a one-time thing, okay?” His eyes narrow as he finishes, but with how he looks, he’s hardly threatening.

The words he’s saying aren’t making any sense, but Cryptor isn’t going to turn down a break when it’s offered.

“Y- yes, Master,” he nods. The confusion is eating away at his processor, but he forces himself not to show it. If he does, he’ll be dragged right back into the training room.

Kyle starts to take him back to his locker, and Cryptor keeps his gaze on the floor as they walk, trying to keep his mind away from Sentry and what might happen to him.

He’s shaking, trembling, and he shouldn’t be- showing emotion this much isn’t a good idea, but for some reason, he’s still just being taken away from the training room.

Stepping inside the small cell, he still can’t wrench his mind away. All this time, all this sacrifice to protect Sentry…

“... all of this to protect you, and it didn’t make a difference…”

Crying.

It’s something he hated before. A sign of weakness, of something that could get in the way of a task.

But now?

Cryptor wishes he was allowed to cry.

The door is abruptly slammed shut in front of him, Kyle using much more force than necessary. There’s clearly something going on with the blond…

His confusion intensifies some, but in the end, does it really matter? Kyle was right. There is nothing he can do. Sentry is going to be brought here and broken whether he likes it or not.

He can only hope that he breaks before he has to watch the one he loves do the same.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

[readbyred]

“Pathetic” Ted Spankoffski x Reader

a gender neutral, reverse hurt/comfort fic

warnings: cursing; mild sexual comments; a very tired dyslectic author

Lately, things haven’t been going so well for Ted. Charlotte broke things off for good and it was far from pretty, the atmosphere was crushing to be honest. And so with time he latched onto Paul more and more, using his best friend as a distraction from his own life and failiures. Unfortunately his companion seemed to be a bit distracted and not very eager to spend time, at least less so than usually. Ted pinned the fault on a crush of his, Emma, one of the baristas at a nearby caffee. She was hot and would be great if onyl she didn’t speak, or at least that’s what he told Paul. His friend didn’t seem to agree for some reason. But that’s how it was, in Ted’s opinion. She always got offended for so many small things and tried to make him out to be the bad guy of every confrontation. But it wasn’t Ted’s fault that their uniform shorts were so short and besides one or two comments were just a given considering how good her and her coworkers looked in them. But she always had something to say, a name to call him or even a complaint to make, if her boss was around. But even then it was all fun and games. Until one day it wasn’t.

It all started “innocently” as he considered it. He spotted Paul using the stairs on the opposide side of the building. Some time ago his friend had stopped using the ones by Ted’s office, for one reason or another. And so they made their way together, Ted trying to get some information out of him as to how things with Emma were. Finally after a conversation more painful than pulling teeth Paul announced that he was going to ask Emma out. It was a big step and it surprised Ted but after some teasing he promised not to blow this. So far so good and it wasn’t until they stood in the line, inside the cafe, that it went downhill.

It was meant to be a harmless comment, he knew Emma found them at least a bit funny too, for sure. Nothing bad, he just asked whet else could she do for a tip if she didn’t want to sing. She already looked very annoyed, he never expected her to appreciate his humour and so he nudged Paul saying that he might give her a different tip if she didn’t want his money. That, for reasons unknown to Ted, crossed the line and Emma whipped around to face them frustrated. She turned to Paul to announce that although she liked him around if his friend was going “to come around only to be a gross creep” then they might as well just go to starbucks instead, since she “didn't go to this shitty job to get harassed”

Ted didn’t even get to say that technically, he wasn’t doing anything wrong because Paul who was now done with awkwardly apologizing to his very pissed off crush, dragged him out of the Beanies, furious. They didn’t talk and to be honest Ted started to feel a bit anxious inside, like a child feels when they tip off their parent in public and know what will await them home.

But that was just how he was! A sleazeball, a jerk, a horny bastard at best. He didn’t want to accept that same persona that was now basically his whole self could have gotten him in trouble with his best friend. And he was never a fan of feeling guilty in general so as soon as he realised that Paul wasn’t going to address it he turned to the first person that asked what happened.

It was Bill who questioned the situation first and although he asked Paul what was up the younger man seemed not to be in the mood to talk and so there was Ted, ready to offer his, very objective, point of view. Leaning on the wall of Bill’s cubicle he announced, trying to sound like he didn't care that he obviously did something bad.

“His grumpy barista got pissed for no reason” chuckling nervously he exclaimed glancing over at Paul working on his computer and ignoring him “it’s not my fault she’s so stiff, alright? And there are many more girls than her, it’s her loss, ey?”

No response. Bill seemed to glance at Paul pitifully.

“Oh, come on! You can do better anyways! And as your best friend I-”

“Can you shut up?” Paul didn’t raise his voice but he as well might have, the tone he was using was way worse. He fully turned to face his older coworker, and for a very long time in a while Ted was, in fact quiet. As he spoke however he became more visibly frustrated “Can you finally stop following me around when I don’t want to be followed, trying to insert yourself into EVERY conversation i have and ruining everything with your gross comments? Why can’t you take the hint? We are not friends, you- you’re just this guy, a guy from work that’s just there when no one wants him to and is just too... pathetic for anyone to directly tell him that''

Ted’s face went blank as Paul let out his years worth of frustrations.

Ted often heard those words. “Pathetic” yes, he was familiar with the term more than anyone. It was alongside such titles as “annoying” “sad” “lonely” “disposable” “a nobody” something he heard often. Sometimes from Sylvia who worked on the top floor and had no real fun qualities besides looking hot (in his opinion). Other times from Emma who would be a decent friend if she wasn't so annoyingly ‘horny for Paul’.

Most of the time he said them himself though. It was normal, you know. A truth he accepted without any brooding except for those lonely nights in his apartment where he drank and let his emotions out. But it hurt no less to hear such remarks be thrown at him from someone like Paul. Someone who, despite his flaws seemed to be genuinely liked by people around him and wanted around. But if Paul wasn't his friend did he have anyone else at all? Not only in his job but in general. After all he didn’t have much besides his work life.

In his youth he was a nerdy little kid that quickly bloomed into a bitter, insecure adult, no magical glow up or ‘it gets better after high school” crap. When he got this job sometime after college, still a mess after that happened a few autumns earlier, he thought he found his place.

Even if he never felt very wanted he liked it here a lot. Only now had he realized he might have been the only one to see it as such. Was he just as sad as everyone apparently saw him as?

That moment made him way too conscious of his own existence and choices, it was no longer a matter of convincing himself that it's all in his head now that the truth was out and clear, the words hanging in the heavy air seemingly for the whole world to see.

And to be fair he had no arguments against the claim, because how sad that was to consider his coworkers, coworkers that apparently hated his guts, the closest people he had?

Because sure, Bill was stiff and boring but there was a certain dose of fun in their usual banter. Sylvia always knew all the gossip from the office and wasn’t all that bad at times. Melissa was always fun to hang around and even brought him lunch on a few ocassions. Even the intern that joined merely two months before, (Y/n), was someone he accepted as a friend. Not to mention Paul and Charlotte, two of the closest people he had, both of which didn’t want him around. And from what Paul said no one else did either. He had no reason not to believe it.

It took him only a few seconds to get it together when Paul finished.Ted always had a habit of getting very obviously defensive when his ego was hurt.

“Okay, whatever!” he shrugged angrily “Well, it’s not your problem then! I know when I’m not wanted”

He made his way to his office, away from Paul and Bill and all those people who he considered to be his friends.

*

The whole day was a bit messy, ever since (Y/n)’s foot stepped into the office they were sent on endless errands by their superior, Mr Davidson. Whatever happened up above in the chain it created one hell of a mess in the documents and so (Y/n) along with Melissa were the busiest they’ve been in a while.

Hence when they finally found time to get some well deserved coffee most of their friends were on their way back to CCRP.

That led to a lot of confusion when after stepping onto their floor they were met with an unusually tense atmosphere. They must have missed something important, they thought.

It wasn’t a long time ago when they joined the team and they never felt like the new person they were and all the efforts at staying purely professional faded with first friendships. And as much as they tried to,they became fond of their coworkers quickly. And so the current mood around them concerned (Y/n).

This wasn’t snooping around, they told themselves approaching Bill to ask what was up. He was a nice man, older than them and equally unskilled in the tech field but overall a very sweet man. If there was something to be concerned about he’d tell them for sure.

The day was almost over, one hour was left until Ted could go home and drink himself to sleep. But for now he just sat in his chair, staring blankly on the screen of his computer displaying a familiar black and orange webpage he was unusually uninterested in, mindlessly squishing his old and used up stress ball. The busiest hours were over and all files seemed to finally be back in place and safe and so he didn’t have much more to keep himself busy with.

He was angry, upset and hurt. Already keeping so many negative emotions inside, those new ones threatened to spill over the edges of the walls he built over the years but so far he managed to keep it together as much as he could.

And that’s when someone knocked on his door.

“What?” he sounded just like he felt, his own voice betraying him greatly. The person on the other side must’ve taken it as an invitation because soon they revealed themselves to be (Y/n). It wasn’t the last person he wanted to see, sure, but it was only because he didn’t want to see any of them equally. Maybe Paul a bit more than the rest “What do you want?”

“I heard what happened and-” they began, watching him carefully. Ted felt even more miserable under their gaze, truly pathetic and judged with his emotions on display. But there was no more space left for him to push them further down and ignore.

“Great, you came here to tell me how much you hate me too, or what?” he scoffed giving them a bitter look “Because I ‘acted like an asshole’?”

“You did from what I know” they responded. It wasn’t something he didn’t expected to hear but he felt even worse hearing it come from (Y/n). They were someone he had his eyes on for some time but never got to try anything. First, because he was with Charlotte and, as much of a jerk as he considered himself to be, he would never forgive himself for being just like Sam. Later when she ended things it was just too painful to jump back into ‘his game’ as he called it. As he always believed, he wasn’t able to fall in love. He did so once in college and never again. It was easier to believe than to face his fear of rejection and not being enough again. Sure, he didn’t exactly love (Y/n) and even if he could do it at all he probably wouldn't, knowing them for two or three months tops. Those sorts of feelings though, weren’t distant at all and their arrival was, at this point, almost inevitable. And so to hear them stand against him, even if rightfully so, hit him in a way he never anticipated. Hence his confused expression when they added “But I came here to check on you, you’ve been locked in here awfully long...”

“I was busy” he barked back quickly returning to his defensive tone. They sometimes asked him things like this one for no apparent reason as to why would they want to know that. He never fully gave in, only sometimes in passing throwing one or two passive-aggressive remarks referring to his situation with Charlotte and such.

“Bullshit” they raised their eyebrows looking down at him. If it wasn’t for the fact he felt anything but up for joking he’d point out how unusual it was to hear them curse. Unamused they added, awaiting his response “Your screen reflects on the glass behind you. So?”

“’So’ you can leave” with Paul’s words still vividly playing in his head he avoided their gaze. The possibility that they thought of him so lowly seeming very overbearing and terrible all of a sudden “I’m fine, alright? So what else you came here for”

“You know acting like this never worked on me, right?” they took the seat opposite to him, still acting very unbothered by his aggressive demeanour, maybe a bit impatient.

“And why do you even want to know that, huh? I mean really, (Y/n), I know you’re new around here but you really don’t have to kiss ass to-”

“Get over yourself, will you? If you’d like to know I was worried” their frown was gone almost as soon as it appeared as they went one, seemingly letting their words fall from their mouth freely “And yeah! You cross many lines, I’m not surprised Emma was mad, whatever you said to her. But you’re still someone I care about, as a person. And you’re not that bad most of the time, you know?”

“If you really want to have a place to stay over the weekend it wouldn’t hurt to ask more nicely, you know” Ted jumped between acts and masks, desperate to find one strong enough to hide whatever that was that made his expression soften.

“Look, I came here on my own but if you want things to go back to how they were you’ll really need to drop the act” they sighed, gaining a bit more of a serious tone.

“And you tell me that? It was Paul who decided to call me a lonely pathetic asshole” Ted knew well only one of those things actually came from Paul but if there was even the smallest possibility to have someone disagree with what he and others thought of him he’d gladly take it, even if it wouldn’t be honest. But what was more pathetic than fishing for a surely insincere ‘oh no, you’re not!’?

“And he regretted it right after, I spoke to him, really. I’m not going to try to make you shake each other’s hands and apologize, you can do that on your own if you want to. I’m just saying you both screwed up, there isn’t one person to blame”

“Okay, (Y/n)” he sighed “That’s cool of you to try and be moral like that but I don’t need to talk or make up with anyone so you either want to cheer me up my way or you can get back to work”

He let his eyes travel up and down their body freely, assured by their earlier statements and a bit relieved that they didn’t share Paul’s opinion. He looked back up when they stood up, torning to the door. Just before he could mentally curse himself out for ruining it they stopped.

“Tell you what, it’s Friday. I’ll make something up to get out of softball practice and we can go grab a drink” they said grabbing the doorknob “That’s the closest I’ll get to doing it ‘your way’. What do you say?”

“Wait really?” it was rare to see him truly surprised like that but it was the last thing he was expecting to come from them.

“Yeah, I can show you a cool place” they smiled walking out and turning back for the last time “come by my desk in an hour and we’ll be good to go”

The door closed leaving him alone again in a much brighter office.

Ted felt a small smile form on his face, a geniuine one too. Things were awful and he didn’t even want to think about how (Y/n) made him feel or how awkward things were going to be in the office from now on. But even if nothing was alright yet, it seemed that he was getting a bit closer to ‘okay’ and that was more than enough.

tag list:

@stopgettingonmynerves

@joeycupcakerichter

[luckgods]

Opus 10, part 2: Dexter, Sinister

Prompt: “Paralyzed by fear” for Bad Things Happen Bingo Warnings: torture, mostly non-graphic violence, past minor character death, panic attacks, dissociation, some ableism against a sometimes-nonverbal character Word count: 2.1k Summary: Luce finds themself captured by a stranger with a grudge.

—

So. This is... bad. Fuck.

Luce generally tried to be a realist. But some situations called for preparation for the worst.

Case in point: being tied to a chair and having a knife brandished at you by some evil... oh, that chestplate, she was a Storm-Hunter. Whoops.

Maybe keeping the stolen cloak hadn't been the best idea. (Well, was it really stealing when they were already dead? And the Storm-Hunters had threatened and then nearly killed Vesca, which technically made them the aggressors, so Luce felt pretty justified.) And it was enchanted! Cloaks like that didn't just fall out of the sky every day.

Well, that was fine. Luce could deal. Even if this lady couldn't. Find out what she wants, give it to her, get out. Or distract her until Ari notices I'm gone. Easy as pie.

Which was a funny phrase, because Luce had seen Uncle Keren's pie recipe, and it did not look simple at all. Focus.

Appease, distract, mitigate. It was just another performance: find out what they wanted, give it to them, get out before they realize you'd emptied their pockets.

Showtime.

"Why... what do you want with me?" Luce aimed for halfway between confused and frightened.

"Where did you get that cloak?" the woman asked.

Ah. Easy. "Stole it out of some rich idiot's hotel room in Voiraux. You'd think they'd get better security with all their money, right?" They forced a laugh.

Really, Storm-Hunter or no, it was embarrassing that this woman had gotten the drop on Luce. Luce was supposed to notice if the people around them were dangerous. Can’t protect anyone without the basic ability to identify threats.

"I think you're lying," the woman said.

Luce widened their eyes slightly, and then pressed their lips together. "I'm not, I promise, I— do you want it? You can have it! I didn't realize anyone would— well, obviously I stole it, but rich people don't usually even notice if something goes missing, that's why—"

"Shut up!"

Luce snapped their mouth shut.

"I don't want the cloak, I want to know which member of your little cadre killed my brother in Atropos!"

Oh. Double fuck.

"Well. Um."

Luce squinted at the woman's face. She didn't look familiar.

New plan: distract. Her brother... possibly the boss. Fucker deserved what he got. Possibly some goon. Also deserved what they got. Worth guessing? Can't hurt.

"He was the... leader?"

"Yes," the woman hissed, "and he was going to make us rich. And renowned. And you fucked it all up."

Keep her talking.

"In our defense, he did trick and then nearly murder our friend. He tell you about that? I mean, not the murder part, on account of... yeah, but the seduction. It was a whole thing."

The woman turned her back on Luce, and exited the room. She re-entered holding a cocked crossbow.

"You know, carrying loaded weapons is—hnnf—"

"You don't get to speak about him."

Crossbow bolt to the stomach. That's a new one.

Luce tilted their head back, glancing at the ceiling. They couldn't hide the grimace on their face, but they could give themself the dignity of some false privacy while they schooled their face back into some semblance of calm.

"Could have just... told me."

"You're lucky I need you to tell me how to get to your friends, or that bolt would have gone into your chest. Or maybe not so lucky."

Luce affected a wide, strained smile. "Any day I'm living... is better than one I'm not."

"Let's test that, shall we?" the woman asked. She turned away again. Probably to grab more weapons.

Well, if that's how she wants to play it. "You could always... ask... your brother."

The woman screamed in rage and whirled on Luce, planting a heel in their stomach, knocking the chair onto its back. Pain exploded up into their chest, down their spine, burst across their skull where it collided with the ground. Their lungs were paralyzed, burning but unable to draw in air.

Okay. New plan. Fuck. Fucking ow. Avoid dying until Ari notices I'm gone. Piece of fucking cake. Then avoid dying when Isaure has to fix me. No, unrealistic. Avoid dying until Isaure can kill me herself. It's the least she deserves.

Anything to distract from the pain.

Luce didn't realize they'd shut their eyes until their head spun as the chair was hefted back upright. The woman was back. They'd missed her footsteps. Lot of use you are. Focus.

They grunted as the change in position jolted the crossbow bolt, still embedded in the back of the chair—and their torso. Couldn't help but wince, wincing made it hurt worse. Tears welled up in their eyes.

"Weak, aren't you?"

Like to see you get shot and tossed around and shed nary a tear, Luce thought, but their voice was no longer working. Fine. "Fuck you," they whispered.

"What was that?" You fucking heard me. The woman laughed. "Not so tough at all. Tell me where your friends are or I'll figure out a way to make you scream."

Luce glared up at her. If their hands had been free, they'd have had a lot to say to her, not that she'd understand any of it. "Not fucking scared of you," they whispered instead. "Figure out a fucking way."

The woman's brow furrowed. Take that. "Is that a challenge? No matter. You'll tell me, or you'll die in misery and I'll just have to hunt your friends down myself."

She hefted a metal rod—fire poker, should have noticed, oh fuck—and swung it down on Luce's forearm. Luce heaved out a voiceless gasp. Oh, Lady. This is only going to get worse.

More blows. Arms, legs. A couple to the chest, not too many, probably doesn't want to break a rib and risk collapsing a lung, so considerate. More questions. The stomach was the worst. Like being shot anew every time the poker made contact. Gonna be puking blood when this is over. Luce didn't answer. Didn't scream. Would have struggled to produce a full-throated sound, even if they'd wanted to. Broken speech is good for something. Bet she's mad.

Eventually, the beating stopped. Luce could hardly tell through the tears blurring their sight, but they'd bet good money that the woman's face was contorted in fury.

Their theory was confirmed when she growled, "Why won't you break!"

Luce offered up a shaky grin in response. Squeezing their eyes shut to concentrate, they whispered, "Untie... hands... I'll tell you."

The woman only snarled in response. Worth a try.

Luce kept their eyes closed, tracking her retreat with their ears instead. Leaving. Regrouping. Good. Time. Speed up, Maré. Need you.

They half-drifted, breathing in time with the pulsing in their stomach. Ari, Maré, Maré, find me. Don't tell Darnell, he doesn't need to see. Secret, safe, secret, keep it. Time. Give it time. Find me.

The woman returned. Her steps were slow and heavy.

"What," Luce murmured, head lolling to the side, eyes blinking open lazily. Weapon? Knife. Hunting. I'm the prey. Threat established, they closed their eyes again. It wasn't much, but the darkness was a slight balm to their headache.

"Everyone fears something," the woman said. "You don't fear pain, I'll give you that. But you fear something. Death, I can tell. You don't want to die." She paused for a long moment. "Fire, probably."

Luce couldn't restrain the slight laugh that escaped them. Fire. Nothing would be as terrible as the all-engulfing flame that had scarred them in the first place. No, they didn't fear fire.

"Not fire," the woman concluded. Whoops. Ah well, she deserves one for free.

"You're a peacock. If you weren't already disfigured, maybe a threat to your pretty face would get you to talk."

"Rude," Luce whispered. "Still pretty."

"Still, there's more than one way to skin a kobold. You still wear makeup. Hands?"

Luce did not freeze. Their breath did not hitch. They forced their lips to curl into a smile. "So sweet... you noticed."

She doesn't know. Don't let her know. She doesn't know, she can't know, don't let her know, hide, hide, hide-hide-hide.

The silence dragged on and on. Luce put all their concentration into looking as unconcerned as possible. They regretted closing their eyes. Wished they could see the woman's face, couldn't risk looking and letting her know they cared. Couldn't move, for fear. Rabbit in the open. Pretend it's on purpose, but could you move if you wanted to?

Head hanging. Eyes closed. Playing dead. Being dead. The dead don't feel fear. Remember, the best way to sell a trick is to believe it yourself. Nobody likes a jaded magician. But don't over-sell. Watch my hands. How does it feel to see something impossible? Good, use that. That's what you're selling.

"Ears," the woman finally continued. "I see you tracking me. Neat trick, with your eyes closed. And of course your smart mouth."

Smart mouth, Luce echoed soundlessly. The last of their voice was gone. They opened their eyes.

The woman was twirling her knife. The front of Luce's shirt was wet with blood, cooling and crusting over. Probably the back as well. Their stomach burned. Their limbs throbbed in time with their pulse, too fast. I just want this to be over.

Focus on the pain. Like that hit to your stomach. Hurts, right? That's why you can't go down. Stay up, keep fighting. Doesn't matter how much it hurts. You go down, you're out, kid. Fight's over. In the ring, it don't matter, but in real life, you die. Got that?

"Hands first, I think. Then your tongue, then your ears. We'll see if I can't make you scream before then. I doubt it, given your apparent... defects, but we can try nonetheless."

No, no, no, no. Anything else. Can't perform without my hands, can't fight, can't talk. Be useless. Change her mind. Anything else.

Lower your eyes, Luce, don't look so invested. Watch your breathing. Not too fast, but not too slow, either. Smile. Look confident. Remember, you have something that they want. Confident, not cocky, Luce. They have something you want, too. Make them feel good about giving it to you.

"Knife or club, do you think? Is it worse to have fingers broken beyond repair, or no fingers at all?"

Frozen. Neither. Anything else. No more magic. No more fighting. No more sign language. Trapped, voiceless, again, forever.

Use your words, Luce. Negotiate with me.

...I'm sorry, Mom. I can't.

Then there was shouting and flames, almost pleasantly warm, dancing at the walls, when did it get so cold? Shouting, orange and purple bolts of magic flying past, a familiar dry voice saying "buckle up, bud, this is gonna suck."

Luce exhaled through gritted teeth as someone yanked at the crossbow bolt. Hands on their shoulders, hands on their stomach, a hand holding their own, pressing reassurances into it, words like safe and home and free.

Voices were passing over their head, the words lost in the buzz of adrenaline, a wave of exhaustion crashing over them in the aftermath of fear fear fear. Where was Ari? There. Warm and soft and safe, crooning soft reassurances to Luce's low humming. I was afraid. I wasn't good enough. I waited. You found me. Be careful, she's looking for you, the Storm-Hunter. They tried to stand up but their knees buckled underneath them, a web of hands and arms catching them mid-fall, settling them gently onto the floor.

"The woman, she's a Storm-Hunter, she wants revenge," Luce signed.

"She's been taken care of," said Isaure, in her typical understated fashion. "And you're next."

She sounded like she wanted to say more. Luce raised their eyebrows at her. Isaure shook her head in response. She looked tired.

Bad, then.

"Ari," Luce whispered, and there she was, on their right, Darnell on their left, Tesla twining around the three of them. "Am I okay?" Don't lie.

"You're going to be," she promised.

Luce hummed in agreement. "Got me... just in time," they said. I was so afraid, they didn't say. "'M cold," they said.

Ari turned to look at Isaure. Luce's head swam. Tesla chirped his sound of distress. Why? Maybe because of the water. Yes, the water. It was cold, which was why Luce was cold. It distorted and clouded the shapes around them and muffled the sounds. But it was nice in the water. It didn't hurt so much. Luce slipped under the surface and let the currents tug them away.

[green-and-grey-kenaz]

I Sleep with the Dirt by Fire Glow

Language: English

Chapter 1:  Please pull me from the dark

Characters in Chapter: Regulus Black, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin (Briefly),  Albus Dumbledore (Briefly)

Chapter Summary:

Regulus is returned to life after his body has been kept in stasis as an inferius. It takes some getting used to, being alive again. Sirius meanwhile is dealing with having to look after a somewhat wild brother and not being able to adopt Harry, like he promised.

Word Count: c. 5 900

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34049455/chapters/84695911

It was strange. Bright. Pain. Noise. Smells. Thoughts. Feels. Sights.

Food.

He lunged, grabbing the prey which shrieked, only getting shriller as teeth tore into it. He pulled his head back and tasted sweet iron. Something grabbed him, forced his jaw open. He snarled. He was hungry and this was his food. He had rightfully caught it.

There was more noise and he turned, glowering. He hated the noises that they made at him. He had a sense that once it might have meant something but now they were empty sounds. It was infuriating.

The one he did not want to eat was there. That one was skinny. Bones. Bones weren’t food. He could crunch them to get food, but the skinny one was still not food. He did not know when the concept of food had come. But the desire to kill the warm moving ones had become a painful urge to fix an emptiness within. Hunger. Skinny was not that though. There was more to the bony one. That was why it was not food.

The other one was tempting but it could stop him. He had tried.

It always knew. It was always prepared.

They made noises to each other as food was placed into his hand. It wasn’t fresh but he tore at it, snarling at anyone who got too close. Too soon, food was gone and he licked his fingers. They were tasty.

Bony was there, hand on his arm. He snarled and Bony flinched but made noises at him. Soft sounds that soothed and promised safety. Bony took something damp and pressed it against his face, rubbed it over his fingers. He liked the damp and wet. It was like a home in that dark, wet cave. The bony one continued to make the noises and gently shifted his limbs. It was a more comfortable position. The old one came and muttered words. He tried to shift and get at it but Bony was being gentle with him and captured his attention once more.

He did not know what he was doing here. He had known, back at the cave. Or perhaps it had not been a knowing – it was more like a state of being. There had been no knowing, just guarding. Devour any that touched the water. Wait. Constant waiting. Protect.

A part of him had something different. A part had been sleeping, almost too deep for dreams but that part had been more alive. There had been the vaguest sense of a series of sounds that had defined it. Memories that had created it.

He could not remember the memories now. They were like the fish that sometimes made their way to his deep waters and were devoured by their many hungry mouths. Flashing, briefly there and so powerfully sating. Then gone. The Bony one perhaps came from there. It came from somewhere deep within. That was why he didn’t eat it.

Bony looked at him, it gave an expression. The lips curled slightly at the ends and it helped him to lie down and pulled the soft warmth over him. It took his head and held it until boredom closed his eyes.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“No, Regulus.” Sirius said firmly as his brother held the raw, half eaten chicken breast in his hand, teeth bared and showing the remnants of his midnight snack.

This was not what Sirius needed. He didn’t need Regulus back. He ran his hand through his hair, guilt sparking in his stomach at that thought. No, he did need Regulus back. Just not with the caveat that he would have to fight off the magic that had kept his body frozen as a minion for Voldemort. Because that was a lot to deal with when you were fresh out of Azkaban. As was knowing that if it hadn’t been for Regulus’ soul somehow taking root deep inside him, if Dumbledore hadn't realised that… well his brother's body would still be in that cave. Dead and violated, twisted by Dark Magic. The thought was sickening.

Yet it was because of Regulus that he had been told he couldn’t take Harry into his home. Harry Potter, James’ son. Sirius' very own Godson, who he had sworn an oath to protect. A boy who was criminally neglected by his supposed guardians. Sirius had waited all this time to get Harry back in his life. He had told the boy he could move in with him. It wasn't fair that he had to look after a kid who should be grown and able to take care of himself.

Sirius resented Regulus for that. He resented that a lot when Regulus had never shown him any love or care back when they had lived together. It had always been ‘why can’t you just behave?’, ‘why must you hurt mother so?’, ‘can’t you just get it into your thick skull that we are better than everyone else and that it is our duty to rule?’. Well, Regulus didn’t look much better than anyone else with his half-eaten chicken breast clutched in one hand.

“Put it down. You’re going to be sick enough as it is.” Probably. Apparently inferii had pretty tough guts because Regulus had taken to eating a whole host of raw things (the healer had not been impressed to find that out). Unfortunately for his brother, the closer he got back to being counted amongst the living, the more raw meat did not agree with him.  

Regulus shifted the chicken breast closer to his mouth, staring a challenge down at Sirius.

“No.” Sirius growled and Regulus froze. In that second, Sirius took the time to consider the situation. The pantry had been charmed closed. If Regulus had opened it, that had to mean he was getting his magic back which would not be ideal because Sirius didn’t need a magic wielding, zombie brother. He groaned, running a hand down his face and Regulus quickly took a bite of the chicken.

“Regulus!” Sirius roared and his brother jumped, dropping the chicken breast and quick as a flash, made for the door. Sirius swore and lunged after him, wrapping the smaller body and pinning his arms while his hands went to wrap around Regulus’ wrists. He might be skinny after his time in Azkaban but Regulus was still only seventeen (he’d be eighteen if counting the days – he died days before his birthday a voice whispered in his head) and apparently hadn’t been taking care of himself in the lead up to his death. He’d been all skin and bones when they dragged him out and the inferius voracious appetite was not doing much to put weight back on his frame.

The tiny body squirmed in his grasp, twisting his head and sinking his teeth into Sirius’ dressing gown.

“Stop that, Regulus.” Sirius was softer this time, trying to be more reassuring now the chicken was gone. While most people seemed fair game for eating, Sirius had yet to be bitten. Oh, Regulus threatened to and Sirius did not trust himself to sleep without a heavily warded door, but he’d had no more than panicked bites that stopped short of bruising his skin. He pulled Regulus over to a sink and with some effort managed to get warm water running. Forcing Regulus’ hands under, he glanced around for the soap as his brother started to relax.

“See, nothing wrong, Reggie.” He said soothingly, rubbing the lavender scented soap against his brother’s pale skin. He got a cloth to clean Regulus’ face likewise. His brother squirmed but did not resist.

“Just cleaning you up. You know, if you get hungry, you can come to me. Just knock on the door. I’ll make you something.” He told Regulus this every time but he had little way to tell if it went in. His brother made a noise though and leaned into him.

“Right, all cleaned up now. Not much point eating until you’ve got this out your system.” He said, turning Regulus and giving him a once over. He didn’t let Regulus wear anything with long sleeves, unless attended which just made his arms look like skinny sticks but it made moments like this easier. It didn’t look like Regulus had gotten anything on him.

“Kreacher!” Sirius called.

The House Elf appeared. Sirius knew he lived in a cupboard in the kitchen and he found it ever so infuriating that he didn’t help keep Regulus from eating raw meats. Unfortunately, Kreacher was rather dedicated to ‘the young master’, even if that meant letting him eat things he shouldn’t.

“Clean up the mess and then bring the sick basin into the Parlour. I’m staying up with Regulus until we know if this is going to pass through or not. And next time stop letting him eat raw meat.”

Regulus growled at Sirius for his tone, dark eyes narrowing and Sirius groaned.

“Please.” He added, trying to make his tone sweet because he could do with Regulus not waking up mother’s portrait, which was what he would do if in a strop. She only got agitated seeing Regulus in such a state and it didn’t help that Sirius was there either.

“Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black.” The House Elf grovelled, bowing low and Sirius bit back his retort and instead said through gritted teeth.

“Thank you. Kreacher.”

Regulus seemed to accept that as genuine because he smiled and let himself be guided out with minimum fuss. In fact, he looked rather over the moon to be taken into the Parlour where he took his customary seat as Sirius set the fire up and carefully made sure to place the fire protector so Regulus wouldn’t accidentally get too close.

Warmth was something that Regulus seemed drawn to. He loved the fire, he loved the sun, he loved being wrapped in warm hugs when before he’d always been hesitant about touch. It felt like someone else walking about in his brother’s skin. It was not a comfortable thought but Dumbledore insisted that Regulus would come back to his senses. They had to treat this like a flu that his body was fighting off.

His brother was curled up, small limbs all folded in close, and Sirius pulled a blanket over him. Regulus jumped and snarled before realising it was him and calming back down.

“Fire.” He said, giving a nod towards the flames.

“Yes, Reg, fire.” Sirius confirmed, sighing and settling down next to his brother, carding his hand through his hair. Regulus made a small humming noise which Sirius knew to mean he was pleased with himself. Speaking was… a challenge and at times, it could be especially frustrating. Some days, Regulus could manage to string together a sentence and others would be solely animalistic snarls.

Kreacher came in and placed the sick basin down. Regulus smiled at him and Sirius let his brother do whatever it was he did with Kreacher. There was no denying that there was something protective within Regulus when it came to Kreacher and Sirius wondered whether something had happened to Kreacher before Regulus had died. The old House Elf would let Regulus check him over with agitated hands before pulling him in tight for quite a while.

No one knew quiet what had happened and Kreacher was not elaborating. The only information that legimency had been able to glean from Regulus’ soul attached onto Sirius was where he had died. Snape, and Sirius still shivered to think on that, had impressed on them that whatever had happened, it was more important to Regulus than merely the place he had died. It was the one thing that bound him to this earthly plane and even in death, he kept shielded with occlumency.

Dumbledore had uncovered some things. They’d seen that unearthly green glow across the water of the cave and after he’d brought Regulus’ bound and writhing corpse… After Snape had helped coax Regulus’ soul back into it… Dumbledore had returned.

Sirius still remembered that note that Dumbledore had placed into his hand. Regulus’ curved and delicate hand writing. That would have been his last words on this earth. It had been chilling.

Voldemort had created a Horcrux and Regulus had intended to die destroying it. It was clear that he had found it but no one knew where the original was. Snape had confessed that although he and Regulus had shared a friendship, he had had no word about this from Regulus. Kreacher feigned ignorance and Sirius knew that was the case because he had caught Kreacher hurting himself after saying he knew nothing.

He had ordered Kreacher to tell him because he knew that Kreacher knew but that was the closest Regulus had come to hurting him. His brother had flown in, snarling rage, with clawing hands and hadn’t calmed for a week.

Sirius sighed and stared at Regulus, who was lying, eyes half closed as Kreacher now comforted him, singing him songs in Kreacher’s own language. Regulus didn’t sleep. Not since they’d brought him back. At most he dozed. Sometimes by the fire, more often when someone cradled him in warm sunlight. Sirius figured that Regulus felt he had been sleeping enough with fifteen years of being dead. That he might fear that his sleep would bring that again. Certainly rest seemed to bring out the inferius in him. Always a step back from whatever improvement he had built up.

Harry would be easier.

Harry deserved the love that Regulus was given. Dumbledore visited once a week to chat with Regulus – a kid who could barely speak at the moment. Even Snape visited, although he kept these visits to once a month due to the fact that strife seemed to upset Regulus, otherwise he would no doubt be a more frequent visitor. Remus, Merlin knew how, tolerated Regulus. The first few times, Regulus had gone for Remus’ throat and had to be stunned. Remus brought bribes of chocolate frogs and still, Regulus would sit between them once he had finished chasing his meal.

One day he had told Sirius ‘ ‘trayed you. Left you.’. Sirius had tried to explain that he had betrayed Remus, that it was him that hadn’t trusted. But Regulus had touched his chest and said one word. Hurt.

Regulus could tell that no matter what had happened, Sirius had felt betrayed by Remus. That one of his childhood friends had not fought for his freedom… it stung and it didn’t matter how irrational that was because to Regulus, it was real and if he didn’t sit there, protecting Sirius, Remus might hurt him.

Merlin, this was messed up.

“Bad.” Regulus said, stiffening, and Sirius grabbed the basin, handing it over to Regulus who retched into the bowl as Sirius rubbed his back in what he hoped were soothing circles. Kreacher vanished the sick between breaks in his brother’s throwing up.

“There you go. Better out. It’s OK.” He said, using his other hand to pull Regulus’ hair out of his face.

Harry wouldn’t eat raw meat and then need a guardian to look out for him. Sirius winced as Regulus threw up again, sounding rather painful as he shuddered, fingers clawing at the ceramic. At the very least Regulus might exhaust himself and doze. That would be nice. Some peace and not having to rely on paintings waking him up whenever Regulus decided to go on his walks.

Sirius yawned and Regulus paused from his heaving, looking up with dark, pain filled eyes.

They were his brother’s eyes. His little brother, who had died alone in a cave to try and bring down Voldemort. Regulus. The soft little idiot who thought he’d take on the world alone because he had no one else to turn to. Sirius hadn’t been there for him.

Regulus doubled over again and moaned in pain and Sirius returned to rubbing his head. Yes, he resented his brother for a lot of things. It had been a long time since Regulus had brought him joy but every time he looked into those eyes, he saw a kid he’d failed. Someone he should have been there for. Perhaps, the guilt would give way to love at some point.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Regulus snarled at the man who came in through the door. Sirius grabbed him and pulled him away, placing an arm out to stop him getting at the man.

“No, it’s alright Sirius. You said he had a turn last night. It’s fine.” The man… the wolf… said, reaching into his pockets with slow movements. He pulled something out, fiddling with it and suddenly Regulus found his focus forced to something moving fast. He dashed after it and it jumped away. Another pounce and he had it wrapped in his hands, feeling his prey wiggling, trying to get out. A quick crush and he broke it. Opening his hands, Regulus started to pick at its brown, sweet flesh, crushing it between his teeth. It was good. Tasty. Bits fell to the floor and he cleaned up those traces as well.

Good. He’d killed it.

Feeling more content with this, Regulus wandered through the house, trying to recall what had happened before. He had chased his prey but something important had happened before that. What was it?

Voices.

Ah, the wolf.

Regulus dashed to the warm room where the fire was merrily burning and Sirius sat with the wolf, his brother lounging across the sofa and the wolf, the betrayer of his brother, sat on a chair.

“Sirius said you’ve started to collect the cards.” The wolf said, looking up as he entered and stalked to sit in front of his brother. Sirius may have forgotten but Regulus remembered the pain his brother had felt when the wolf hadn’t saved him from whatever had happened. It would only be a matter of time before it happened again.

Regulus looked at the offered card but did not take it. Sirius shifted forward, plucked the card from the wolf’s hand and placed it in Regulus’ own, wrapping his fingers around it.

“You’ve been wanting this one, remember?” He said and Regulus stared at the picture.

“S… Slyth… Slytherin. Salazar.” He managed to get the words out, forcing his mouth and tongue to roll around the foreign sounds. There was a vague sense that this had once been easy, like breathing. He had a concept of breathing now. He remembered realising that he breathed.

“Yep! Rarer than the other Founders because no one wants him.” Sirius said, in a jolly tone. Regulus stared at it. He knew this one mattered to him. He knew that some days he could remember why he mattered. Grey eyes shifted to look up at the wolf.

“Trick.” He said.

“I watched him take the card out, it’s not a trick Reg.” Sirius said, rubbing his head. Regulus growled and glared at the two. He had no idea how the wolf could just waltz in and make Sirius forget the pain that he had caused.

“Regulus.” That was the stern voice. He barred his teeth at the tone then flinched as Sirius went to grab him.

“Sirius, it’s okay.” The wolf said hastily, producing another box.

“No, if he can’t play nice he shouldn’t get nice things.” Sirius said. The wolf hesitated with his bribes. Regulus hated that they talked about him as if he wasn’t here. He could understand them, their noises made his mind know. It was just hard to remember how to make the noises back.

“Sirius, you said other than the relapse, he’s doing better.” The wolf said before looking at him.

“Would you like another chocolate frog, Regulus?” He asked and his tone was nice. It was always nice and Regulus did not trust that. He did, however, like the frogs. He eyed the box up and licked his lips, thinking on how good its flesh would be.

“Please.”

The wolf hands over the frog, his prize, and Regulus clutched the box tight in his hands. It is his now and it feels good to own things. The desire to consume now falls away and he leaned against the sofa, staring. Sirius went back to talking but the words wash over him. There’s something unsettled in him, a poking feeling that makes his limbs feel restless. Something he should be doing.

Regulus gets up and follows the feeling.

It takes him to his room. There is a draw there with lines. He traces them. Line with three with three lines. Two hills. A curve and circle. Emergency. It is scrawled in a very slow and deliberate attempt to be neat.

He pulls the draw open and inside are boxes, unopened. A collection of frogs. Because sometimes he could plan for the future. That maybe one day he’d want a frog when he wasn’t being given one. That they were useful. Regulus placed the box inside with the rest, then on second thought he shifts it down to the bottom. Older ones on top. Cycle through.

He closes the draw and looks at the top of his desk.

On there sits a hairbrush, with a symbol engraved into its handle. Regulus traced the symbol.

It was a gift, from mother. His initials made into one image. He’d been ten when gifted it. The handle had been big in his hands and he knew its worth. Grabbing it, Regulus brought the brush through his hair, wincing as it tugged at knots. Sometimes Sirius held him down and ran a comb through his black hair. Sirius would try to be gentle. Regulus did not.

His scalp stung but his hair was fixed.

Investigating his desk, Regulus next found a vial. It smelt of woods on hot summer days. The smell pulled memories of walks with friends like Barty or Severus. It was comforting. A pot held a cream, near dried out but which moistened as his fingers touched it. Regulus sniffed his fingers. It was a gentle hint of night blooming jasmine. He’d chosen it because of that. One summer, they had stayed in Southern France and each evening meal had been punctuated by that smell. It reminded him of family and love. He rubbed the cream against his face, a familiar gesture. His fingers found their own and rubbed it into his skin which softened.

The smells of the wood went on the neck and wrists. He remembered that now.

A tub full of powdered silver used the brush to add flakes to his skin so he looked otherworldly and more than the peasants around him.

There was a ribbon. He used it to tie his hair back into a ponytail, leaving just enough loose to frame his face. That took too many goes until it was satisfactory but what stared out at him was a face that he might remember.

Regulus glanced down at his clothes. Attire.

Sirius dressed him in robes that cut off above his elbows, short at the legs and with a split. He knew his movement could be erratic. It was the outfit of a child.

His wardrobe was empty of suitable garb.

Regulus went into the room next to his. Sirius’. The one his brother did not sleep in but was so painfully his. Sometimes Regulus understood why it hurt. Mostly, though, he couldn’t remember. There, in the draws were proper robes. Long, rich and flowing. They smelt of mothballs and dust but it was still a better alternative. He pulled the robes on and they came up short. It made no sense because Sirius was taller than him. Older than him.

But it was more presentable.

Regulus made his way downstairs and back to the parlour. He breezed in and took a seat near the fire. It hurt to sit up straight. His body did not seem to like it but Regulus knew it was proper and expected of him. He didn’t know who expected it.

“Hey Reggie.” Sirius smiled.

“Siri.” He said with a nod. Even that took too much effort. How had this once been so easy?

“You look good.” Wolf smiled.

“Are… are those my old robes?”

Regulus glanced away.

“I hadn’t realised that old hag had kept them.”

“M.” Regulus glared at Sirius. “Mother.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Love.” Regulus said firmly.

“She never felt an ounce of love for us, Reg.” Sirius said, laughing callously. Regulus felt his muscles twitch.

“Sirius.” Wolf cautioned, leaning forwards and placing a hand on the arm of Sirius’ chair.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“You said they kept the room the same as you’ve left it.” Wolf said softly.

“Probably never noticed I left.” Sirius scoffed.

“Or they were waiting for you to come home.” Wolf pointed out gently.

“Fat chance.”

“Did.” Regulus said.

Sirius turned his attention back to him.

“Did they come by the Potters to collect me? Turn up at the Express to pick me up? Ever write me a letter? No, Reg, they didn’t. No one did.”

Regulus pulled his legs in closer, feeling eyes water but he couldn’t be weak. Not in front of the wolf.

“Time. Needed time. Then back.” He whispered. That’s what he’d been told. His brother would come back, he just needed space to realise that he still loved them, that nothing was as important as family. Days became weeks, weeks became months. He just needed more time. He’d come back, see his room kept just as it had been when he had left and would realise that they loved him.

“Sirius-” The wolf said, reaching for Regulus’ brother but he pushed the man’s hands away.

“No! They didn’t care!” Sirius said, his voice shaking and Regulus realised he had zoned out for some of the conversation between the two. He also remembered that the wolf was called Remus.

“I’m not saying that the way they treated you was okay, Sirius. It was wrong and it was good that you got out of it when you did because it was destroying you. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t care. That’s what makes it harder.”

“No one could love their child and put them through that. They didn’t love me. They couldn’t have.”

“I did.” Regulus said softly. Sirius glanced up and ran a hand down his face.

“You didn’t put me through anything, Reg. You were the only thing that made home bearable.” It was a comforting lie and Regulus shook his head.

“I was with mother and father.” He said, his words slow as each rolled around his mouth. “I did not help you.”

“That’s because you were soft enough to believe our parents. You were soft.” Sirius said. Regulus shook his head and stared at his arm.

“I joined.” He pointed out.

“Because they forced you.” Sirius insisted.

“I thought ‘twas right.” Regulus said quietly.

“They brainwashed you.”

Regulus shrugged. Sirius wasn’t convinced but at least he wasn’t fighting.

“I didn’t help you.” He repeated.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Sirius stared at the cold, blank eyes staring up at him.

“James… Lily.” He whispered, hands trembling as they reached forwards, hesitant to cradle the corpses of his friends. As he reached out, he realised his hands were uncomfortably warm. Glancing down, he saw them dripping red. His friends’ skin tore open, pouring blood. He had done this. He was drowning in their blood and the world around him got dark. His heart quickened as a cold touch grabbed his heart and tightened. Slimy hands wrapped around his throat, his legs, his arms. A rattling death gasp and he was falling deeper and deeper.

Sirius screamed, starting awake, thrashing underneath duvet covers as his door banged as if it were about to be smashed in.

He swore and grabbed his wand, unlocking the door and Regulus flew in, snarling at the darkness in the corners of his room and hovering protectively over him.

Sirius’ heart was pounding and his body trembling and he did not have time for Regulus not being OK. He did not want a snarling brother trying to bite his nightmares.

“Reggie, it’s okay. Just a nightmare. Nothing’s attacking me.” Sirius gasped out, trying to place a hand on his brother’s arm to try and comfort him. He did not need a jumpy inferius. Regulus jumped, then glanced around.

“Dream?” He asked. His voice sounded young, uncertain of how to pronounce different words.

“Bad dream.” Sirius confirmed, rubbing Regulus’ arm. His brother calmed down a lot faster than he did and then dashed off to do Merlin knew what. Probably whatever inferii did when everyone else was supposed to be sleeping.

Sirius fell back against the bed. He could feel tears pricking at his eyes but Blacks did not cry. Not the women, not the children, not the men. But if a Black cried and no one was there to see, did they really cry?

Sirius covered his eyes and drew in a shaky breath. He was fine. The dementors weren’t here. It was Peter who had killed James and Lily. Dumbledore had gotten him a pardon for that. The world now knew he was innocent. He would never get sent back th-

Something dropped on his stomach and Sirius let out a blood curdling scream, flinging his arm away from his face to stare up into the shocked face of Regulus.

“Wha?” He asked, glancing down, terrified to find out what Regulus might consider an appropriate midnight gift.

It was a chocolate frog.

Still in its wrapping.

Regulus nudged it towards Sirius with a hesitant smile.

“Thanks.” Sirius said softly. Regulus openly grinned back and dashed over to a chair, watching him. Sirius sighed and took the offered gift, opening it up and carefully grabbing the frog before it could jump. He saw Regulus start, ready to hunt, but control the urge. Remus always said chocolate was the best cure for dementors. It was sweet and creamy and thawed out some part of his chest.

“You saved this?” Sirius asked in sudden realisation. Regulus frowned then gave a nod.

“I can’t kill the nightmares.” He said in his slow and carefully thought out way. “Chocolate might. I think I read it once.”

“Yeah. It does.” Sirius gave a small smile. This was progress. Maybe soon they could have Harry here safely.

“What dream?” Regulus asked, words slipping in perhaps an excitement at being able to keep a conversation going.

Sirius shook his head. He was not going back there. Not at all.

“I can’t… Were you asleep?” He decided, trying to turn the conversation to something he might manage. Regulus frowned and Sirius noticed the dark shadows under his eyes. He hadn’t realised before. They must have slowly built up as Regulus’ body became more and more alive. The frown had made his eyes look sunken in and not too unlike the face Sirius still saw in the mirror.

“Can’t.” Regulus agreed and he went to sit on Sirius’ bed, head hanging down.

“Hey, it’s OK. No one expects you to get back to normal immediately.” Sirius said softly, shifting to pull his brother into a hug. Regulus fell against him. Warm. Alive. Sirius could feel his heartbeat against his side. It was strong.

“Do you need food?” Sirius asked. Regulus shook his head. Well, at least that was something.

“Want you safe.”

Sirius sighed.

“Well, since neither of us are sleeping, why don’t we go into the parlour?” He suggested, throwing off the bed covers and grabbing his dressing gown and wand. On second thought, he also picked up his bottle of firewhisky that rested on his bed side table. It was depressingly low and Sirius hadn’t yet plucked up the courage to do his own shopping. There was only so often he could ask Moony to pick up booze, even when spaced out between what remained of father’s cabinet.

Maybe mother’s cabinet. She’d outlived him and Reg by years.

He hated thinking that he might be using anything she owned.

Regulus followed him on deadly silent feet. It was unnerving. Sirius always felt that Regulus was just about to pounce. They managed to get through to the parlour with no murders and Regulus took his customary place by the fire, waiting expectantly. Sirius muttered the incantation and the fire flickered to life. He took a swig of whisky and offered it to Regulus, who did likewise, coughing.

“Missed whisky.” Regulus commented as he handed the bottle back to Sirius. Sirius gave a bark of laughter.

“When did you have time to miss whisky?”

Regulus frowned and cocked his head.

“Don’t know. Last week?”

“Well, that’s a good sign that you’re becoming yourself again, Reggie. What’s a Black without a love of alcohol?”

His brother hummed and Sirius handed the bottle back to his brother who took another gulp.

“Can… Can I ask?” His voice shook and Sirius took the bottle back. He was going to need it.

“About what?”

“Mother?”

“Died five years after I was sent to prison. Guards let me know. They thought there was something hilarious about me being left this house.”

Regulus sniffed.

“Bellatrix?”

“Captured and put into Azkaban not long after they got me.”

“Narcissa?”

“Uh… you remember she married Malfoy, right? Were you around for her pregnancy? Ok, well, she’s got a baby boy. Same year as Harry.”

Regulus nodded, thoughtful.

“Evan?”

“Rosier? Dead.”

“Barty?”

“Did you know about him? That he was a Death Eater?”

Regulus went silent. Sirius sighed.

“Look, I know he was a good friend of yours at school.”

“New brother.” Regulus said softly. “I… I wanted a brother that mother would approve of. You had James.”

“Did you know?” Sirius asked again, his blood running cold. He hadn’t thought about it but the two had been close. Barty had been a years younger than Reg and practically worshipped the ground beneath his feet. Slytherin cronyism, not that the Crouch family needed it, but they were Slytherins all the way. Bartemius Senior just sucked it up to the crowds and the ministry.

“I brought… Yes. I brought him into the fold.” Regulus’ voice was wobbling now.

“Merlin. Oh Reg!”

“Please tell me he’s okay.”

Regulus had been seventeen when he died and he sounded it. He’d been just a kid. Just like Barty when they dragged him into a cell. Sirius remembered the boy screaming for his mother until he went silent. He remembered thinking if Regulus had been caught before his mysterious death, that’s what he’d have been like. And when Barty had died, Sirius had wondered if Regulus would have lasted that long.

“I’m so sorry.” Sirius said, moving to wrap Regulus in a hug as his brother collapsed in on himself. A sudden ringing filled the air and Sirius just had time to cast a quick shielding charm as glass smashed around them. Regulus was crying openly and Sirius shifted his brother to rest against his shoulder.

“’S my fault.” Regulus whispered as Sirius wrapped his arm around his brother and used the other to wave his wand and restore the room.

“No, you aren’t responsible for others, Reg.” He whispered softly as he held his brother as he fell apart and they tried to put each other back together.

[tartagilicious]

Hello! I hope you’re doing well and being safe during covid. May I request a headcanon for the fellows of an mc who gets very sick? Thank you and stay safe!

hello anon! I hope you’re staying safe and doing well too, especially with the sudden start of the school season :) also, I’m just going to assume that you mean sick with the virus for this post! 

Ethan:

- this would undoubtedly stress him tf out

- he’s a very careful person, and this would obviously transfer over to aspects of the pandemic — he’d never be seen outside without a mask, would use hand sanitiser regularly, and social distance as much as possible

- not to say that you wouldn’t, but especially in a situation like this, sometimes getting sick is just inevitable

- there’s not much he can do safely, but when you tell him that you’ve tested positive for the virus, he would still make every effort possible to make your life a little better in your time of need

- daily calls, sitting below your bedroom window, bringing your favourite takeout to your door — things like that

- your relationship won’t suffer because of this, and he’ll be sure of that

Harry:

- he went with you to be tested, and while you both laughed about how weird the test felt to get done, you weren’t laughing anymore when the person told you that you had tested positive

- harry would be immediately apologetic, even though he really doesn’t have any reason to be

- due to his test coming up negative, he was required to self quarantine for two weeks before getting tested again, and to be wary of any symptoms

- so basically, you’re in this together? as much as you can be, anyway. 

- while he wouldn’t be able to see you physically, I think FaceTime would be your go-to for communication. that way, if you’re hurting in some way, he can be at least be there with you through the screen

- he might cry to see you in pain :(

- he’d go a more effortless way of giving you things considering his self-quarantine, and would postmate pretty much anything to your door if he felt like it

- you would wake up to random texts and then find a box of chocolate covered strawberries on your doorstep, like???? it’s 9am sir what— 

Eugene:

- the moment you tell him over the phone, he’d want you to be tested again. there’s no way that the person he loves has gotten a life-threatening virus, it’s just not possible

- might be internally denying the situation for a bit, but would drop it pretty quickly when you confirm that you caught it anyway. he doesn’t want to make the situation any more stressful for you than it already is

- when he sees you going through the symptoms with his own eyes over FaceTime, he finally realises what’s at stake and is scared. there hasn’t ever been a day that he considered a world without you, and now that a future like that isn’t completely impossible, he doesn’t know what to do

- though, his methods of comfort are odd, they’re very characteristic

- would offer to kick the virus’ ass for you

- also, he would write songs for you! maybe just to cheer you up, but also to satisfy his thoughts and desire to see you healthy again

Lawrence:

- he never freaks out in front of you, but you can almost visualise the blood draining from his face as you talk to him over the phone that day

- this would hit him very hard. not being able to see you is something that makes him really restless, especially when knows that you’re sick. he just wants to take car of you and make you’re safe, but he can’t :(

- he would try to cheer you and himself up by making you homemade treats and leaving them on your doorstep, and would probably stand at a distance to see you receive them. it’s the only way he can, after all

- Lawrence would definitely send you care packages. you know those cute colour-themed ones, where every item in the basket is or correlates to a certain colour? think of that but with your favourite colour, he’d definitely send you at least a few

- you might tell him that you don’t need him to get you stuff (the treats, care packages, etc, bc we know there’d be more from this extra mf) but he would literally insist. the only scenario I could see him stopping is if you were genuinely uncomfortable with it or it just made you feel bad, but, I think in this case it’d be hard to, since it’s obvious how much attention and love he’s putting into everything

Zion:

- similarly to the rest of the guys, he’d be crushed to know that you’d gotten sick. you’re a careful person, and it was shitty luck that you happened to be on the receiving end of the virus.

- it would make him super anxious and worried, and though he might let that get the best of him occasionally, he’s mostly good in restraining himself

- he would probably try to make as much light of the situation as possible, like joking that some politician should have gotten it instead just to hear your little laugh. it’s important to him that you’re at least happy sometimes, because this virus definitely won’t take you from him — at least not if he has anything to say about it

- he’d be the guy to throw spare change at your window in the middle of the day just to get your attention, rather than texting you or something because that’s boring 🤷🏼‍♀️ he IS spicing up self quarantine and there’s nothing you can do to stop him

- then he’d throw up something with terrible aim that happens to be more medicine or just a little gift like chapstick, your favourite candy bar, or something miscellaneous 

- would try all he can to make you feel normal. he would still play video games with you and insult you over the headset, and send you random memes along with daily checkups

[ridiasfangirlings]

Fushimi gains the immortality strain due to what happened near the end of s2. They say it will go away on it's own with the slates gone but it'll take a while. He starts taking advantage of it to protect Misaki when their clan powers slowly start to fade. It horrifies Misaki though as Saru still dies/gets badly injured but he just regenerates/pulls himself together and still feels pain. Fushimi doesn't care as Misaki is more important and so he doesn't hesitate to jump in life-threatening danger

So basically like Zeno in Akatsuki no Yona? The Strain's power isn't immortality in the sense that you won't grow old or die but instead it's 'can't be killed.' Say Fushimi gets hit by the Strain a few weeks after the end of ROK, in that time things have gotten pretty dangerous for everyone in the city with the rush of new Strains after everything that happened with the Slate at the end of the series. At the same time the clans have found their own powers becoming unreliable, like they still have powers but those powers are weakening and sometimes disappear and reappear without warning. Homra and Scepter 4 have both suffered the most from this, with plenty of Strains out there who want revenge on Scepter 4 and a bunch of even normal human gangs who have long wanted the chance to go after Homra. Maybe one day shortly before Fushimi gets hit by the Strain Yata even gets injured in one of these incidents, some gang members with a grudge against Homra attack him and Kamamoto while they're out one day and the two of them have some trouble escaping due to unreliable powers. Yata shows up later to meet Fushimi for a drink and he's got bandages everywhere, Fushimi calls him an idiot for trying to fight back rather than escaping but really he's just trying to cover his own concern.

So then a day or two later Fushimi's out doing his own missions and gets hit with the Strain power on accident, the immortality Strain was newly created by the Slate and can't control their own powers well. Because they have such a handy power though a bunch of criminal Strains have been coming after them, Fushimi saves the Strain but accidentally gets hit by the power. The Strain is super apologetic afterward but they don't know how to undo their own power, as far as they know all Fushimi can do is wait a few weeks for it to wear off. Fushimi's a bit worried at first but then when he hears what the power is he doesn't see what the big deal is, it's not like he was planning on dying soon anyway.

However shortly after this some other Strains decide to make like a coordinated attack on Scepter 4 and Homra and Fushimi and Yata end up together separated from everyone else. Yata doesn't know about the Strain thing and Fushimi doesn't tell him, Yata feeling like this is kinda like old times with each of them having the other's back. Fushimi just clicks his tongue in reply, drawing a few more knives as some enemies approach. During the battle one Strain like pulls a gun on Yata and shoots, it's too fast for Yata to do anything but Fushimi has just enough time to jump in the way of the bullet, getting shot point blank in the head. Yata is absolutely horrified, screaming Fushimi's name as Fushimi falls to the ground in a pool of blood. The Strain laughs like that was too easy, stating that Yata's next. Yata's fists clench and he tries to summon up all the power he has left, determined to get revenge on these guys for killing Saruhiko.

That's when the tension is broken by a soft tongue click, Fushimi sitting up stiffly as he mutters about what a pain this is, it really does hurt, how irritating. The Strains are all like wait what the fuck as Fushimi stands, there's still blood pouring from his wound but it's slowly closing up and the bullet just falls back to the ground. The Strain who hurt him backs away, everyone just freaked out that this 'dead' person came back to life. Fushimi pulls out another knife and gets this twisted grin on his face as he's like now I get it, this power isn't so bad after all. He jumps right into the fray, attacking all the enemies surrounding him and not caring how much he gets torn up in response, Yata behind him just backed up against the wall and staring in horror as Fushimi's shot and beaten and sliced open and yet he keeps getting up each time totally fine.

Afterward Fushimi explains to Yata that this is a Strain power but poor Yata would probably be traumatized, checking Fushimi over for injuries and just not able to believe that this really happened. Fushimi says it's fine he won't die and Yata's like okay yeah maybe but doesn't it still hurt. Fushimi's more interested in checking on Yata though, making sure that he wasn't injured at all and basically ignoring all the blood that's just caked all over his own uniform. Yata's really concerned about what this power could mean for Fushimi's well being but meanwhile Fushimi's thinking that he's found a use for his current state, now he can protect Misaki no matter what happens.

After this Fushimi starts keeping close by Yata's side and he gets into even more dangerous situations, since he doesn't need to worry about dying he doesn't even bother to try and avoid attacks, letting enemies tear him apart because he knows nothing can actually kill him. Yata's becoming increasingly more upset about this though, not liking the way Fushimi is just so easily throwing himself into battle and basically using himself as a living shield to protect Yata. Finally they end up fighting about it, like Fushimi loses a limb or two and as he's reattaching them Yata's like you need to stop doing this you idiot you're hurting yourself. Fushimi says it doesn't matter, he won't die and this way Yata wasn't hurt. Yata gives him this sad look as he's like yes I am because seeing you in pain is hurting me. Fushimi doesn't get it at all and Yata grabs him by the arm and is like just because you won't die doesn’t mean you can't protect yourself, angry because this is just showing that even after all this time Fushimi still doesn't think of himself as important and Yata wants to get it through Fushimi's thick skull that even if he's not going to die it doesn't mean that he should have to be in pain for Yata's sake.

[aeondeug]

So Kentaro Miura died. This hurts a lot, honestly. The man’s work means a lot to me, because it’s helped me get through very tough times. And still does. Few things have ever hit me as hard or stayed with me as much as the end of the Conviction Arc. And I’ve seen some others come out and say similar over the years.

I have also seen plenty say that Berserk is nothing but grimdark misery, and some say that they understand the idea but feel the misery is in excess. Which I can understand. This is a comic with a character the fanbase calls Rape Horse, after all, and he is but one of many such horrors. The sex and gore are pumped up quite high in Berserk. And the circumstances people live in are atrocious and seemingly without any hope. It reaches a point where many ask “Is this necessary?” And when certain kinds of suffering, such as sexual assault, are just displayed in the open without metaphor many more ask “Is this necessary?”

Which is fair and I don’t blame anyone whose answer is “No, it is not.” Berserk can be a hard read. My answer to the question isn’t a “No” though it is a “Yes”. And the reason for why that is falls into two things both focused around what kind of story Berserk is: a story about The Struggler.

My life has been hard. It has sucked. That’s been a pretty recurring thing with the books and such that I talk about a lot here. Life has been cruel to me from the get go and it did not let up at all until I was 25. And even then It’s still hard. I can escape my family, but I can’t escape the system I live inside so easily. Nor can I escape that fact that I’ve been left with wounds that make me a frightened prickly pear of a person. Life has been hard. It has been defined by fighting and struggling.

So then we have Berserk. With its world that is just covered in monsters that run about rampantly and destroying shit. And it’s not just your typical fantasy violence either. It is excruciatingly detailed fantasy violence. There is blood and viscera everywhere. And it’s not just sudden deaths. Sometimes there aren’t even deaths. Sometimes people are just straight up tortured and we get to look at the aftermath of that. Even before the whole monster apocalypse thing there was nigh constant warring. This is not a happy world to be born in. It’s not a happy world to live in. And there’s just so much unhappiness, in such excess, so much of the time.

Which I think helps capture the feel of life for a person like me. I mentioned the Conviction Arc and how it’s gotten me through tough things. I have never lived through something like that. And while a good chunk of the horrors in it are things people have lived through and do live through, the whole monster apocalypse thing is not. And even before that aforementioned monster apocalypse thing, things suck really fucking hard. But the monster apocalypse thing is so much worse.

...and it’s just one thing that is but a blip on the road compared to Griffith. Mozgus is horrifying and strong, and he’s just fucking chump change compared to the actual end boss. Everyone almost dies, several people do die, and the entire situation is just so completely fucked. And that’s just ONE step in the road. A weird monster filled murder field generated by an egg is just ONE thing. But even that one step is filled with gore and misery and weirdness in excess. It’s filled with misery and terror in excess. It does not relent. Not until the festival is over.

That sort of fantastical pushing it to eleven thing is important. Because while I might have literally lived through the festival, I have lived through things that have felt like the festival. I’ve lived through things that I will confidently describe as being like Hell and I have felt fucking awful. So awful that really the one solace I had is that I lived at all. By cramming so much awful into such a tight space and keeping that awfulness density going for as long as he did, Miura managed to capture that feeling. And he presented something deeply important: the idea that you can survive. Perhaps you still have more work to go. Much more. But you lived and sometimes just living is enough.

This is the fantastical though. We now have to ask, “Ok but why the kinds of horrors in particular?” The use of rape in particular, even just the threat of it, in gets a lot of flak and I do understand why. That’s diving into very uncomfortable territory for a lot of people. And we are left to wonder if it’s strictly necessary.

For many it’s not. For many it’s the opposite of necessary. And what is necessary is not doing that and not even threatening it. This is fair. I will never begrudge someone not reading the comic because of this.

For me it is necessary, though. Because sexual abuse is a thing that exists. A thing that I’ve known about personally for a very, very long time. Every time I go through my life, I find new weird fucked up things to tack onto the list. I do not feel like talking about it in public beyond that I have a long, personal history with sexual abuse. And which I am still actively unpacking and likely will be for a very long time.

So like Rape Horse is horrifying. I kind of fucking hate him actually. He is legitimately one of the worst things I have ever seen. But he’s important. Farnese’s run in with him is important. Because, yes, he is a magical demon horse that talks and that’s fantastical. But what is happening is not fantastical. It is horrifyingly not so. It’s something that happens. And it’s just. There. On the one hand, it is obscured partly and made viewable by me by way of it being a magical demon horse. On the other hand, it is out in the open what is going to be done to Farnese.

And I can look at it. I can choose not to look at it. If I don’t want it there, it doesn’t have to be anymore. I can close the comic. It is only there if I want it to be and if I choose to look. And sometimes I do choose to look by reading the comic. Which is important. Because I get to choose at all.

And seeing it just in the open is important too. Because I get to process it. I get to face it as what it is. While also still having the comforting smokescreen that it is a magical demon horse that cannot actually exist and also that the very nice man with a big sword is going to fucking kill him. But I get to process an awful thing by seeing the awful thing in a safe space. Which I desperately need.

Berserk in general is just something I desperately need. I needed it years back even before I got to where I currently am. As the years go on and I work through recovery, I’m likely going to need it more and more. Because recovery’s fucking hard. It fucking sucks. Sometimes it feels even harder than the just surviving. Sometimes it feels inevitably doomed to failure. It’s hard and it’s a struggle.

But if Guts can go through the shit he has and still get up and still make friends then so can I. If he can keep struggling, then so can I. If he can make what progress he has, then I can make that and then some. And that’s what Berserk just is to me. This hopeful thing about life sucking so fucking much, but refusing to give up. This weird thing where the world can be so ugly, but also beautiful and tender. And those beautiful things are worth struggling for. Even if so much of the rest is just awful.

And I’m grateful that Miura could give me this thing. It wasn’t a gift meant for me in particular. It was a comic he wanted to make and he made it how he wanted to make it. But by getting it out there he gave it to me and all the others out there like me who need this sort of thing. He gave the branded and strugglers out there a story to cling to when they need. And that means the world.

Thank you, Miura-sensei.

[moon-in-daylight]

heyy! love your fics! i've seen you take requests so i'm testing my luck here. can we please get a dhawan!master x reader fic where reader is forced to pilot the tardis (like reason w her or link with her telepathically idk) to get the master to a hospital as he's passed out and kinda dying? like some angsty action that turns out fine in the end, please? thank you

Dispensable / Dhawan!Master x reader

Summary: You’ve always felt safe by The Master’s side, but when he endangers himself to save your life, you start wondering if his efforts to protect you are really worth it. Especially now that his life depends on you learning how to pilot a TARDIS.

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: Blood, weapons, injuries, insecure!reader, a little angst maybe. 

A/N: Anon, I’m sorry this took me so long. I’ve just been out of inspiration lately and this is what came out after a month of writing. I hope you still like it though 💖

It wasn’t unusual for The Master’s plans to go terribly wrong sometimes, as it wasn’t unusual that you regularly got hurt in the middle of your adventures as a consequence.

Luckily, it was nothing too serious most of the times. Maybe you would get some scratches while running on the quiet days, some scars on the most serious days when you had to face some extremely angry alien civilization… And, in the worst scenarios, you had almost encountered your reaper face to face.

It was inevitable to suffer some unfortunate accidents while travelling inside the TARDIS. You knew that from the very start, that your least developed anatomy would barely be able to follow a Time Lord’s way of living, especially one’s with so much love for chaos and destruction. You were well aware that while you travelled with The Master death would always be keeping an eye on you. Yet, you gladly took the risks that staying in his ship entailed.

From the first moment you had stepped a foot inside that console room, you had known there would never be a way of turning back to your old life. Not after seeing the things, places and eras he could show you with the simple pull of a lever. At first, the main reason you stayed with him was the time travelling.

Though it was extremely dangerous and you feared The Master could abandon anytime and anywhere when he got bored of you, you decided to endure his rage filled words about your species and his several rules on how you should behave to try and get him to show you the stars. He wasn’t an easy person to deal with, but you had grown to both love and deal with him, and you liked to think he had done the same with you too.

After more than a year aboard of his ship, you trusted him almost blindly, confident that he would do anything he could possibly do to try and get you uninjured of the deadly situations you faced daily.

He was way more gentle and caring now than he was when you first met him, though that was something he would never admit out loud to you. But his change of behavior was evident. You noticed it by the little thing. By the way he always kept an eye on you when you were outside of the TARDIS, on how he threatened anyone that seemed barely interested in hurting you… He almost seemed a different person now. He even took care of your wounds when he couldn’t prevent you from getting hurt, and making sure you got the fastest recovery possible instead of leaving you to deal with them on your own.

You supposed he had gotten used to having a ‘human pet’, and that he took the trouble of taking care of you mainly because he didn’t want to have to take another human in his TARDIS to replace you if you were ever missing. Too much inconvenience to have to take another pet now that he had finally grown somewhat comfortable with your presence… Either way, and despite the many risks you faced time and time again, you always felt save by his side knowing that he wouldn’t let you die that easily.

While being by his side, you barely could remember what fear felt like.

That was, of course, until you found yourself in the worst situation you could have pictured.

The day had started as any other, with The Master taking you to New Earth in the middle of the First New World War, following your request of wanting to know more about the future of your species. The Master had told you repeatedly that humanity’s history was not worth seeing, that they were little more than amoebas. But your curious self had insisted him so many times about wanting to see your future that he had eventually given in.

You didn’t exactly liked what you saw there. The cruelty, the hatred that your own race processed against their own… The senseless death and unnecessary barbarism between those of their own blood… The Master had warned you that it wouldn’t be pretty, but considering the fact you were already used to face every possible form of chaos by his side, you had been sure that nothing he could show you could be worse than the damage you had already seen him cause to distant planets and civilizations.

Now that you ran for your life in the middle of an open battlefield, hand in hand with The Master as he tried to guide you to the safety of his TARDIS under a never-ending rain of bullets, you realized your mistake. You had never imagined a war could be so bloodthirsty, so atrocious… The Master hadn’t said it, but you were sure he was jealous of the destruction and despair caused by your species.

The two sides of the conflict were ready to do anything to get even the slightest advantage over their enemies, and of course, The Master had decided he should turn such horrible situation in his favor. He had manipulated both, the leader of the resistance and the supreme general of the new Earth’s forces, to make them believe the other would throw an offensive in the middle of the night. That way, while everyone fought to death in the middle of the battlefield, you and him could sneak into each side’s bases and steal whatever could be useful or valuable.

The Master’s plan was executing itself perfectly, to the point where it was all being too good to be true. Everyone had seemed to believe him and, though you were suspicious that things were never that easy with him, he appealed to your specie’s stupidity to justify the fact that no major complications had met your little scam. If everything went as he had planned, you would be in and out of each fortress in barely ten minutes, with your pockets full and the armory of the TARDIS completely renewed with new nuclear weapons. But just when the both of you were emptying the armory of the rebel band, two guards caught you red-handed.

Apparently, before indulging their soldiers into a bloodshed battle that would likely finish all live on the planet, the leaders of each side had decided to make things the diplomatic way. And for the first time in a very long time, they had decided to unite forces against a common enemy, you and The Master. You would’ve been proud of them, had your life not been in such danger.

Now, getting yours and The Master’s head was top priority to every living being in that planet, and you almost doubted you would be able to make it to his ship alive.

You had ran alongside The Master from angry crowds hundreds, maybe thousands of times now, but never before had you felt so trapped. The TARDIS was somewhere nearby, and every step you took closer to her was a sigh of relief that left your already tired lungs. Bullets and all kinds of projectile weapons were thrown in your direction, and The Master had to keep you even closer than usual to his body to prevent you from getting hurt.

When the disguised aspect of the TARDIS finally met your eye, you thought you had never felt happier in your life, but your legs were beginning to get tired and you felt yourself losing all the strength in your body, struggling to stabilize the rhythm of your breathing.

One last push, you repeated yourself internally as you forced your body to not give up, to resist until you could collapse on the safety of the TARDIS’ ground.

With every passing second, you could see your destination getting closer, but that little time felt eternal as you did your best not to lose focus and sprint those last meters for the sake of your life.

You only let go of The Master’s hand so you could extend your arms to push the TARDIS’ doors open, get inside and quickly close them after you. But the only thing your hands laid on was the ground as you tripped and fell only a few steps away from the ship.

Your heart sunk in your chest as your bad luck struck in, realizing that you didn’t have enough time to stand up from the ground before the hordes of soldiers reached you, probably killing you instantly. This time there was no way out, and you closed your eyes while you met your unavoidable fate.

This wasn’t a bad way to die, you supposed. You hadn’t lived too long, but you had lived your life to the fullest, running away through the stars with a psychopath alien and visiting places most of your kind couldn’t even dream about. You were at peace with yourself, suspecting that The Master wouldn’t be too affected by your loss and knowing that you had already lived longer than what could be expected of such a fragile being living such a dangerous life.

You were ready to let the rest of your body hit the floor and say goodbye forever, but then The Master’s hands gripped you tight from each side of your body and pushed you up and forwards, giving you the last boost you needed to reach the TARDIS’ doors.

“What are you doing?!” His angry tone reprimanded you as he positioned himself behind you to shield you from your persecutors. “Run!”

Taking The Master’s hand in yours again, you finally made it to the insides of the TARDIS, the comfort of the familiar console room greeting you as she hummed happily at your arrival. As soon as the doors closed, you threw yourself onto the Time Lord, surrounding him with your arms to pull him into a victory hug, or more a thankfulness hug for having saved your life seconds earlier.

You squeezed him tight as you let fear crawl out of your body, starting to feel safe again by his side. For a moment you had truly believed he wouldn’t turn back for you, that he would simply get inside his ship and forget about the fact you had ever existed. But now, after watching him risking his own life to save yours, you realized there wasn’t a single place in the universe where you could really be endangered if you were with him.

As your breathing calmed and you stopped hearing the throbbing of your heart buzzing in your ears, you heard him hiss slightly at the same time you felt the lower part of your torso dampening. Getting away from him, you discovered your shirt was covered in blood, and immediately, you lifted it up to find there was no wound underneath.

Looking again in The Master’s direction and finding that his belly was also covered in the thick liquid, you didn’t let him time to say anything before undoing the lower buttons of his shirt and discovering a bullet wound on the right side of his torso.

Blood was quickly coming out of it, and you were quick to tear the lower side of your shirt so you could use the fabric to press against the bullet hole and stop the bleeding. You had always seen that work in movies, but the material was soon soaked and you realized you couldn’t stop him from bleeding out when you found a second wound a few centimeters above the first one.

“You’re going to bleed to death…” Fear was starting to form in the pit of your stomach as your mind rushed trying to find a solution to the mess developing right in front of you.

“Don’t exaggerate.” He said, as if he had just gotten an insignificant scratch. “I will be fine.”

“No.” You shook your head, taking some piece of clothing you had left in the room earlier and placing it over his belly in hopes it would do something more than the piece of fabric you had used earlier. That didn’t seem to stop the bleeding either and you started to become more and more desperate. “You need to regenerate.”

The Master frowned at you, and then you realized the weak state in which he was. In normal situations, he would have look way more threatening and powerful with the simple act of just lying his eyes on you. Now, looking at the titanic effort he put in simply trying to stay awake was enough for you to pity him.

When you thought of The Master, many adjectives came to your mind, but pity had never before been a word you would’ve use him to describe him.

“I’m not going to regenerate for something so stupid.” He immediately refused, and you cursed him internally as you guided him to the nearest couch, hand still pressing on the side of his body as you helped him sit down as comfortably as possible.

“You’re dying.” You tried to reason with him, but his stubbornness was too much to handle at the moment. He didn’t say a thing as he let the weight of his body collapse on the piece of furniture, and you watched him in desperation. “Please, just do the goddamn thing!”

You pressed the fabric in your hands harder against his wounds, wishing that he would listen to you for once in his life. When you got no answer from him, you lifted your stare to his face again, realizing he had lost consciousness.

“No, no, no, no...” You muttered as you shook his body slightly, trying to get him to wake up. “Wake up, come on. Just wake up and regenerate!”

Seeing that he wouldn’t respond, you immediately decided to check for his heartbeat. Or more correctly, heartbeats. Placing two fingers on the side of his neck, you found that the rhythm of his two hearts was starting to get very similar to the one your single heart made, and then you realized just in how much danger he was.

You were no doctor, but he had already lost a lot of blood. If you did nothing, you feared he could be dead in less than a few hours.

You had been under The Master’s care and protection for so long that now that you were the one that had to look after him, you felt completely helpless. How were you supposed to help him? All you knew about Time Lord’s biology was that they could regenerate when in life or death situations, and he had refused to do it, so you were out of ideas.

“Please, help me…” You felt your eyes watering as you cupped his face in between your hands, shaking it from side to side slightly in yet another attempt to bring him back in himself and get him to help you save him.

You didn’t get any response from him, but you heard the TARDIS humming intensely at you. And you felt relieved to at least have received a single answer to your plea, even if it was by some piece of seemingly inanimate, alien technology. Turning your head to the center of the room, you watched the console lights flicker as she indicated you to get closer to the controls of the ship. Understanding what she wanted you to do, you looked at The Master one last time.

“I’ll never forgive you if you dare to die on me.”

He looked as calmed as you had ever seen him, eyes closed and facial expressions completely relaxed. Your last thought while looking at him before rushing to the controls, was that you wished you could see that serenity in him more often, in better situations that the one taking place now of course.

Placing yourself before the buttons and levers of the console, you found yourself completely lost. You had seen The Master piloting the TARDIS billions of times, but looking down at the controls you couldn’t recall any of the movements he made while doing so… Was it really that hard to show you how to pilot the TARDIS? Hadn’t he thought it could be useful in a situation like this one? And why couldn’t you have a better memory? How could you have seen him doing so many times and not have the slightest idea of what to do?

You searched around the console in hopes of finding a piloting manual, some instructions, or at least some note handwritten by the dying Time Lord that could give you some clue on how to put the time travelling ship in motion. But when you found nothing and realized you wouldn’t even know when or where to take the ship to if you knew how to pilot it, you started to feel impotence taking over you.

The Master was dying because of you, because he had stopped to help you, a simple, useless human. And you weren’t able to do anything to help him, to make things right. You were the one dying, not him.

Feeling the lump forming in the back of your throat you wished you could turn back time and stop him from helping you get to the ship.

How ironic was that? You were inside a time travelling machine, desperate to go back in time, and you simply couldn’t. You had never felt so small and worthless in your whole life as the tears started to fall down your cheeks.

“I don’t know what to do…” You looked back towards The Master, his unconscious body laid on the other side of the room. Your eyes examined him with an apologetic look for a few seconds before the TARDIS’ hum called you again.

Following the sound she made, you realized she was trying to draw you attention to one specific lever of the console, one she had pointed out by illuminating it with a characteristic purple light. Assuming she was trying to guide you, you got closer to the lever and pulled it without thinking it twice, desperate to at least try something to fix the situation.

When you heard the approving hum of the TARDIS and noticed the way she illuminated a close button in the same purple light, you proceeded to push that button too, and then the next one she pointed you to. You honestly didn’t know what any of those controls were doing or if you would be able to follow her instructions well enough to get The Master somewhere safe, but you had no time to waste with doubt and second-guessing.

You rushed through the console’s controls, pulling and pressing as soon as the TARDIS indicated you what it was that you had to do next. After pulling one final lever, you noticed the ground beneath your feet tremble as the ship entered the time vortex. You looked back at The Master one last time as the ship landed in an unknown location and time.

“Is it done?” You asked her, quickly wiping away the tears that had fallen from your eyes seconds earlier.

She gave you yet another hum, and you supposed you would need to go outside and figure out if you had succeeded in piloting the TARDIS to the right place. When you ran outside and found yourself inside a building that seemed like what you knew as a hospital, you finally let out the breath that you had been holding.

By the time The Master woke up again, he was lying inside a hospital bed, a sharp pain on his side and a little dizziness caused by whatever substance they were putting into his IV, which he quickly took off without even acknowledging what it was. He attempted to get off the bed to try and find out in which planet he was, or how he had gotten there, but he found himself too weak to move, the stabbing pain on his side making him desist from it.

Giving up and lying his head back on the pillow again, he caught a glimpse of something that look like a bracelet on his right wrist. When he looked at it, he realized his data was printed on that bracelet:

SPECIES: Time Lord

AGE: ?

NAME: Doctor

He immediately frowned at the name of his older enemy on his own hand, and for a second he theorized about being dead and having been sent to the profundities of hell as a punishment for his numerous crimes during his extremely long existence. For a second he feared he would have to live as The Doctor for the rest of eternity.

If there was in fact something similar to hell, he was sure this was it.

Your entrance in the room interrupted his thoughts as he sighed in relief by seeing you. He let out the air too fast out of his lungs, and he couldn’t help but hiss in pain.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him after you realized he had gained consciousness back again, closing the door behind you.

“Better than ever, love.” He said with that smug smile on his face, trying to ignore the intense ache on the side of his torso.

You looked at him for a few seconds, upset that he would act as if nothing had happened. Well, he was The Master. He was an expert in being annoying, you thought. What else could you expect from him?

“I hope it’s really hurting, you thick idiot.” You spitted out, not holding yourself back as you bitterly let him know just how angry you were with him. Had you been anyone else, you wouldn’t have probably lived to tell about it “Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?! I thought you were dying!”

“Dying is not something I’m very good at, as you can see.” The Master casually said with a pompous smirk on his face, one you wished you could slap off him. You simply decided to ignore his comment.

“Why didn’t you just regenerate? Do you have any idea how many trouble you would have spare me?”

“I thought you liked this face, pet.” He raised an eyebrow at you, arrogance showing all over his face as you couldn’t help but blush slightly. It was true you found him attractive, but he clearly didn’t need you to boost his already enormous ego.

“I would have rather have you alive with a different face than dead with this one.”

For barely a second you could see the façade in The Master’s eyes fall apart as you said those words. You knew he wasn’t very keen on talking about feelings, but you hoped he knew you were being serious.

“How did we arrive here?” He quickly changed the subject. “And why am I The Doctor now?”

“I brought us here. The TARDIS taught me to pilot her” You started to explain, watching the surprised look on his face as he tried to imagine you maneuvering his ship. “And well, when they asked me what your species was so they could give you the right medication, I thought I would tell them the truth, but when they asked me for your name I figured telling them they were treating one of the most dangerous criminals in all of time and space wasn’t such a great idea.”

“I would have rather you letting me die before letting anyone think I was her.” He rolled his eyes and ripped off the bracelet on his wrist, clearly annoyed by the idea of being mistaken for his former best friend.

“If you hadn’t stopped for me back then I wouldn’t have had to do it!” You pointed out in frustration, tired of him only complaining. You knew The Master would never thank you for saving his life, but those comments he made were starting to get you on your nerves. The Time Lord started at you in confusion for a few seconds, eyes glued to your face as he tried to decode what was going through your mind before forcing himself inside of it. After staying silent for several seconds, you decided to ask right away. “Why would you risk your life for me anyway?”

“You’re my pet, dear. I’m supposed to keep you safe.” He replied as if it was an obvious thing. When you had first met him, you had never thought you would hear him speak that way about a human.

“Not if it costs you your own life!”

“Did you really want me to abandon you?” He asked, tone deadly serious and eyes inspecting you carefully.

“No, but…” Sighing, you tried to find a proper way to express what was going on inside your head. “I would never want you to get hurt because of me. I’m only human, and my life is so ephemeral and fragile… Your life is way bigger and exciting than what mine could ever be, and you shouldn’t put it at risk because of me. I’m dispensable.”

While hearing your words, The Master regretted every time he had told you how inferior you were because of your ‘human condition’. He had seen you as dispensable at first, but he no longer considered you anything other than his equal, his partner in crime. The fact that you had grown to see yourself as something of less worth than him was almost as painful as the injury on his side.

“Don’t you ever say something like that again.” He warned you in what almost sound like a threatening tone. “You’re not dispensable. If you were I wouldn’t have you in my TARDIS. I did what I did, and I would do it again if I had to, love. I promised to take care of you and that’s exactly what I’m going to do, no matter the cost. Is that understood?”

A little taken aback but moved by his words, you simply nodded, trying to regain composure again.

“Good, now help me get out of here.” Without giving you a second to react, he immediately attempted to get out of the mattress. You quickly rushed to his side to try and get him to lay back again.

“What are you doing? You’re still not ready to go!” You tried to convince him to stay in the hospital for a little longer, to give himself some time to fully recover. Deep down you knew everything you’d try would be useless, knowing that he would run away from that room at the first chance he got. He would probably even want to go plan his next heist right after arriving the TARDIS, as if nothing had ever happened.

“It won’t take long for the staff to discover you lied about my identity, and they’ll want some explanations.” He began to explain to you. “We need to be gone by the time they arrive.”

Closing your eyes, you realized he was right. That was one of the few inconveniences of travelling around space and time causing chaos and destruction, you couldn’t stay anywhere for too long if you didn’t want to get caught, and The Master was a wanted man in practically every corner of the universe.

“Okay, we are leaving.” The Master’s face was adorned with a pleased smile as he heard your words. “But don’t even think about getting into trouble for the next few days. You’re going to get a full recovery first. You have to promise me.”

“I promise you, pet.” He stated as he leaned onto you to use your body as support when he got up.

“Oh, and I’m piloting the TARDIS, by the way.” You added, gaining a warning look from him. “What? You are going to need a lot of rest in the next few days and I have to practice in case I have to pilot her again.”