#side effect of him fading away and Shadow barely getting him back in time maybe?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedreamlessnights · 1 year ago

Text

Fervency

Non-Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: After falling into mysterious spores in the Underdark, you start to experience some... strange side effects. Astarion is more than happy to assist.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac/glorified sex pollen, established relationship, discussions of consent, fingering, oral sex (both giving and receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms. Takes place post-game and includes mild spoilers.

Word Count: 5.7k

There’s not much that surprises you anymore.

It’s true - being kidnapped by illithids, having a tadpole implanted behind your eyes, facing the gods themselves - all of that does make it difficult for mundane life to come anywhere close enough to truly shock you. Your days aren’t necessarily peaceful, but they never seem quite as exciting as that blind haze of companionship in the aftermath of the nautiloid, trekking through the wilderness and shadow-cursed lands and the city, finding yourself in the company of strangers but soon-to-be family.

Still, these days, there’s something every now and then that catches you off guard. The trouble is, you’re never quite left in a space to know how to handle it. Unlike your earlier adventures, things are rarely solved with a dagger in your hand or a dash of flattery in your words. No, the burdens of day-to-day life are much more complicated than that.

Falling into a patch of mysterious spores, for one.

The Underdark is full of various mushrooms. Poisonous. Explosive. Befuddling. You could go on and on. You’ve had your number of close calls with them, but the sensation coursing over your skin feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced - and it doesn’t help that you’ve never seen spores like this.

Hells. Of course this is where your day would end up.

Just a little stroll, you’d told yourself. It’ll be harmless. And it had been, for the most part. There’s an unearthly beauty to the Underdark that you’ve never encountered anywhere else, one you’ve come to appreciate just as much as the upper surface. But halfway through your usual route, your feet had snagged on a branch and you’d gone tumbling, and now - now you’re in a patch of glowing, red spores, feeling like…

Gods, what do you feel?

Hot. You feel very, very hot. Sweat trickles down your back. Warmth blooms like poppies in a number of strange places - your cheeks, your lips, your neck. The feeling is spreading fast, bleeding through your ribs as you get to your feet.

Alright, you think to yourself, ignoring the sharp, bleeding panic in your throat that’s threatening to take over. Situations like this call for a sense of rationality. You’re going to get out.

It takes much longer than it should for you to slowly stumble back to familiar ground. Your movements are jerky, as if you’re being puppeted around, and it’s getting harder to think straight when you’re feeling as if - whatever this is - is slowly consuming you. The heat is in your lungs, coursing fire near your pounding heart, raging with every inhale.

You need to get this off of you, and as quickly as possible. After that, maybe it will fade and maybe it won’t. You’ll… you’ll figure it out.

By the time you make it to the river, your knees are trembling so much that you nearly fall in. The water barely scratches the surface of the fire when you splash it over your skin, but the coolness of it is euphoric. You go as quickly as you can, covering area by area - your clothing, your arms, your face and neck - until most of the spores are off, but the feeling pulses and throbs in you all the same. Whatever it is, it isn’t killing you, but it certainly isn’t pleasant.

You could tell Astarion. He’d tease you a little, but he’d also be certain to search endlessly to find something to stop your discomfort. And you ache for him. His touch, his voice, the fondness in his eyes when he looks at you.

Had it really been just this morning when you’d last seen him? It seems like lifetimes away - lost to a very, very different type of ache in your veins that won’t seem to fade. You’ve just made up your mind to go find him, rising to your feet again, when the heat rushes to a very specific place between your legs and all thoughts of looking for Astarion are instantly cast out.

Oh, you think, somewhere between dizzy, needy, and utterly humiliated. So that’s what this is.

You’ve read about things like this - plants, pollen, potions - but most of them had been in bad romance novels, and none of them had ever come with any mention of an antidote. And, needless to say, you won’t be making your way to the Myconid Sovereign to learn more. It’ll have to be handled on your own.

You could risk going home and pretending to be ill, but Astarion is far too perceptive for that. He’d see through your ruse immediately. Which leaves the only option: hiding in a cave and waiting this out, praying he won’t notice you’re gone and come searching for you before you’re back.

And really, how bad can it be?

Bad. It can be very, very bad.

You’ve been sitting in this cave for who knows how long, and your sanity is fading more and more by the minute.

It had been manageable at first. The heat spread through you like warm cider on a cold night - a slow, steady increase, the way a candle gradually burns down to the wick. You’d thought it would stop at a certain point (it had to, didn’t it?), but no. It just… kept going.

Now, every inch of your body feels like it’s on fire, and it’s not slow, or steady, or even remotely bearable. It’s a strange, pleasurable flame, but a flame nonetheless. You can’t even decide whether touching yourself would even help at this point. Even just grazing your hand along the length of your thigh sends the fire rising, and you’re not keen on experimenting at the moment.

Your hands have gone stiff from balling your fists. Your mouth keeps switching between being as dry as sand and overly salivating. Each breath ignites more warmth, and you’ve been trembling for so long that you don’t remember how it feels to be still.

Gods. If you trusted yourself to get to your feet, you’d go see the Sovereign - a lifetime’s worth of humiliation or not. You don’t have any clue what time it is. There’s no sun or moon down here to guide you, no mechanism to spell out the hour. Has Astarion noticed your absence? How long until he’s concerned?

You know enough to know that you should have been back by now - that it’ll be unusual for you to have been gone so long. At least this spot you’ve found for yourself is relatively private. A dark, dry little place with a stone floor; fluorescent ivy in shades of lavender and coral; remote enough that, if your willpower fails and you end up making some noise, no one will be around to hear.

You attempt to swallow, but the action dies on your tongue. You attempt to breathe, but you can’t seem to suck in any air. You’re just thinking you really might die in this painful, mortified state when the pad of footsteps on stone hits your ears, and your whole body pulls as taut as a rope.

Oh, gods. Please not him. Anyone else. The Sovereign. The Society of Brilliance. Anyone.

But it’s him, because of course it is. He slowly makes his way inside, pressing through the narrow entrance and around the corner, and when he sees you curled against the cave wall, his brows rise - alarm.

“Wait,” you blurt out, determined to speak before he can. “Don’t come any closer. Please.”

Astarion stays where he is, but his eyes start instinctively scanning you over, searching for ailment or injury. “What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, even though you’re anything but. You want to say more, but your thoughts trail off as another wave of heat flares inside of you. You’ve started trembling again. Your fingers accidentally graze against your thigh, and you let out a small, involuntary noise.

Astarion hesitates, then takes a step closer. “Darling,” he starts, raising a brow, “you make a terrible liar.”

Of course you can’t fool him. Not even a little. You let out a laugh, but the sound hitches into a strange, choked sob. You pull your knees to your chest and let out a long, shaking breath, trying to get a grip. “I know,” you say softly. “Gods. I’m sorry.”

He takes another step closer, and concern writes itself into his expression. “Gods below,” he exclaims. “Er - my sweet, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look...”

“Horrible?” you finish for him. “I know.”

“I… was going to say ill, actually,” Astarion replies, laughing a little. “This dark cave lighting looks beautiful on you, my dear.”

You can’t resist another laugh. It’s less burdened this time, but it fades away as you hesitate, very pointedly gazing down at your fingernails instead of meeting his eyes. “I may or may not have fallen into a patch of mysterious spores.”

“And?” Astarion says, lifting a hand into the air and giving a small, contemplative gesture. “Go on, darling. Seeing as you aren’t dead - I’m assuming they weren’t poisonous?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. How the hells are you going to phrase this? “No,” you answer. “I just feel… hot. Not like the explosive ones, just… hot.”

“Well,” Astarion says, “That’s… interesting. Alright - let me take a look at you.”

Half of you wants to protest, but what’s the point? He’ll find out the truth sooner or later. So, instead, you nod.

He steps closer, kneeling down at your side, and you have to ball your fists to keep from doing something stupid. You’re expecting more flame at his touch - a painful flare, like when you’d grazed your thigh - but when the back of his hand meets your forehead, his touch is like a salve. Soothing, cool, sweet. It mellows out the fire, makes you feel sane again.

You shut your eyes in relief, staying as still as you can, and when you open them, you find him giving you a look you know all too well. Smug. Affectionate. A glint in his eye that can only mean trouble.

“My, my,” he purrs. “Darling, I’m no healer, but… a racing pulse, dilated pupils, feverish to the touch? That, I know.” He leans in, his voice low in your ear. “And I can smell how much you want me.”

A shudder runs down your back, betraying you. Astarion leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours - soft and gentle and perfect - and it takes everything in you to pull away.

“Wait,” you protest.

He instantly halts, pulling away from you and scanning over your expression. “What is it?” he asks. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine,” you say quickly. “But you don’t… I mean - I can manage this on my own, you know.”

His brows rise. “My dear, you do realize I am very capable of helping you in this situation?”

“Gods, Astarion,” you say, biting back a delirious sort of laughter. “Believe me, I’m well aware. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. I can manage this.”

A fondness enters his expression - the rare kind, reserved for the most meaningful of moments. He leans closer, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I know,” he says softly, the words tender and delicate. “Trust me. I want to do this.” He trails a finger along your thigh, and you shiver again. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs. “And, unless I’m wrong, you’ve missed me, too.”

After searching his gaze and finding him entirely present, you let yourself relax into his touch. “I’ve missed you more than anything.”

“Good,” he says. “I was almost worried.”

He skims his knuckles over your jaw, leaning in to kiss you once more, and the flame in you seems to bend to his touch. It rages in you like a furnace, bellowing and cruel, but with every frigid brush of his fingers, the feeling subsides. Even the feel of his lips on yours seeps away the discomfort.

He’s slow with his actions, but he doesn’t tease, even though you can see the amusement in his eyes when he pulls away to look at you. He’s enjoying this, and if you’re honest with yourself, you are, too. If only it didn’t come at the price of your dignity - but if it’s going to fall away in front of anyone, it might as well be him.

His hands slide down to your thighs, and your whole body pulls tight, torn between wanting him to touch you now and not wanting him to stop what he’s doing.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against your ear. “I’ve got you, darling.”

You let out a shaky breath and try to coax your body into cooperating, shutting your eyes and letting the feel of him drown out the path of your thoughts. The sensation of his mouth, trailing down your neck, ranging between feather-light kisses and the barely-there sting of his teeth against the skin, making every inch of you melt into his touch like clay. His hands, sliding to the front of your top, deftly unlacing it and pulling it away from your skin.

Thank the gods no one is anywhere around this area - if anyone were to interrupt you, you’re sure you’d die right here and now. The simmering need that lies under your skin is bordering on painful, a white-hot delirium of impatience that will not be ignored any longer.

Astarion’s fingers skim across your sternum, further soothing the burning inside your chest, and his lips soon follow downward. You let out a soft noise from the back of your throat, something choked and desperate, and he hums against your skin in response.

When your eyes flutter open again, you find that he’s staring up at you as he kisses down your abdomen, eyes dark and hands curled lightly around your ribs, ardor and affection both palpable in the heat of his gaze.

Your instinct is to shut your eyes again - to shut out the intimacy and vulnerability that comes from holding his stare - but you don’t. Instead, you move the stiff muscle of your arm and coax your hand into working again, gently tangling your fingers into the silky-smooth, silvery curls in your lap.

He gives you a roguish grin, tugging on your bottoms until they finally, mercifully, pull away from your skin, leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, the words dark and heavy on his tongue, but they feel more for him than for you. His brows crease together and his actions turn sure and firm and quickened - as if he can’t wait to have his mouth on you.

Beautiful. It’s the second time he’s called you that word tonight, but it doesn’t stop the heat from rising back into your cheeks, and that feeling of the warmth seems to spark a chain reaction.

It’s as if his voice is stoking the fire - more heat, all rushing to the very place his lips are heading to now, only to be soothed by his touch. He gently pulls at your thighs, coaxing you to lay on your back, and you’re so desperate that you nearly knock your head against the hard floor laid out beneath you in your effort to obey.

Your mind isn’t processing things the way it usually does: in an even, progressing line of events, every moment spread out from one to the next. Rather, everything comes in bursts of feeling, flashing between being a thousand miles away and all too close, all too present. You barely feel the graze of fabric when he removes your smallclothes and leaves you entirely bare, but the gentle, wet press of his tongue against you feels amplified a thousand times over.

“Astarion,” you gasp, your hand tightening in his hair.

He hums again, and the feeling of it has you shivering, muscles going slack in pleasure. Short, soft flicks of his tongue over your clit and you’re left a shuddering mess, not thinking to try to be quiet - not really thinking at all, anymore. He grips at one of your thighs, looping it over his shoulder as he pulls away for a moment, nipping at the tender flesh there. Soothing it with a gentle kiss, then returning to his work.

You’re a walking - or perhaps laying - contradiction. Your arousal is lava hot, but your pleasure is cold as ice. You can’t decide if you’re cold or hot or both or neither. You’re not in a place to think, not as blinding bursts of pleasure course up your spine, rendering you a lump of skin and bones and not much more. His mouth is nothing if not fervent.

You aren’t sure how long it lasts - your hand in his hair, his mouth against you, writhing in dizzying pleasure against the hard, stone floor and barely feeling the discomfort. It might not be very long at all - but it feels like hours before his fingers enter you.

You’re soaking wet. If you weren’t so focused on, well, everything else, it’d be humiliating. Still, when two fingers slip into you and meet no resistance whatsoever, Astarion groans. The pace he’s setting with both hand and tongue is torturous, slow and even, and it takes everything in you not to beg him for more.

But when he goes a little faster, a moan pulls from your throat, and you look down to find him grinning as he pulls away, fingers still at work. “Look at you,” he says, praise lilting the words as he curls his fingers - sending your hips rolling. “You’ll come for me, won’t you, darling?”

And as if he’s flicked a switch in your mind, you’re coming around his fingers, gasping and shuddering and clenching. Electricity seems to coarse through your veins, hot and sharp, flaming and radiant, and when it’s gone, there’s only the slickness between your thighs, a slight breathless laughter that escapes from you without a thought, and the fading warmth of the spores.

For a moment, it seems as though there might be relief. Your thoughts clear and the heat wanes, but after a sparse second or two of relief, it comes back as strong as ever.

You’d be disappointed at its reappearance, but then Astarion is crawling over you, using his knee to coax your legs apart for him, so how could you ever be disappointed? Everything else slips away except for him. His eyes, dark with want, his lips, molding against yours, his tongue, gently pressing into your mouth as he buries a hand in your hair.

He’s hard for you. You can feel it, and that realization has you grinding against him. He groans, cursing under his breath, then reaches down to undo his trousers. “Are you ready for me, love?” he asks, his voice half-broken with want.

You laugh, still trembling from your climax. “You know I am.”

“Mm,” he hums, his eyes glimmering in the dark. “But maybe I wanted to hear you say it for me, darling.”

Gods. He’s beautiful - always so beautiful - even here, in this dark, cold cave you’ve found. A work of art down to the dark circles under his eyes, the crow’s feet around his eyes, his smile lines.

You could spend a thousand years studying the art of him and never, ever get bored; not of his voice, and the way his confidence sometimes, ever so rarely, breaks into something real and raw. Not of his hands: nimble fingers and the calluses from his blade and soft skin - and not of his eyes, which seem both dark and light depending on his mood, and which can seem so sharp and severe at times, but sometimes soften into something soft and round. Sometimes. When they’re looking at you.

You could spend a thousand years admiring him and never, ever get tired of him, and never, ever deserve him. And he’d never believe it.

He’s noticed you staring, because of course he has, and he tilts his head. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours?”

You can only smile, deliriously happy and wanting and both hot and cold - hot where the warmth burns uncontained, and cold everywhere his skin meets yours. “I love you.”

Your words must catch him by surprise, because it’s shock that meets his expression first. It fades away into affection, placing itself on his lips in a soft smile. “I - I love you too,” he answers, brushing a stray strand of your hair out of your face. “More than anything.”

He clears his throat and shifts, and as you feel his erection brush against you, only then do you remember the conversation you two had been having. Him between your legs. You, still needing him inside of you.

“I’m ready for you,” you breathe. “Please. I want you.”

“How could I say no?” he asks, leaning in and biting at the lobe of your ear.

He presses into you slowly, even though you don’t need it - not after the effects of the spores and your first climax still evident on your thighs. Only when he once again begins a slow, torturous pace do you realize that he’s doing it to tease you, and when you look up and find a certain amount of devious intent in his eyes, a shudder runs down your back.

He’s always seemed to enjoy watching you fall apart. How many times have you looked up in the middle of one of your late-night trysts to find his eyes on you, the darkened ruby gaze that seems as starved for you as his hunger for blood?

How many times has he eased your arm away from your face when you felt the need to hide yourself, and how many times has he gently pulled your hand away from your mouth so he could hear the noises you made for him?

There’s never really been a question about it; Astarion gets off on your pleasure, and the feeling is very, very mutual. Vulnerability aside, it does something beyond words to you to know how much he enjoys giving you pleasure. And, sure as the hells, you like to give it right back to him. So, keeping your gaze locked on his, you grind your hips down to meet him and let out a moan.

His jaw clenches and he swallows hard, his thrusts deepening as he props himself over you. You watch the lovely path of the action over the bob of his Adam’s apple, then flit your eyes back to his, letting out another noise.

“Gods,” he says, and his pace quickens. His hands wrap around your shoulders and he groans, panting as he rocks into you, his grip turning into something almost bruising.

Part of you desperately wants him to keep going - but the other part of you wants to give him something, and now seems the proper time for it. So you tilt your head to give him access to your neck and murmur a few, soft words, and he slowly comes to a halt: breathing heavily, nails digging into your skin as he tries to regain some semblance of composure.

He kisses down your jaw, slowly drags his teeth along the skin, then sinks his fangs into your neck. You’re used to the sharp pain of his bite, but it’s different today. Intensified. It’s as if his mouth on your skin, the barely-there pain, is salving through that fire and every single limb of yours goes slack with…

What is it? Pleasure? Affection? Relief? It’s something in between, something warm but not scorching, something sweet but not overly-saccharine. He starts moving his hips again and you’re instantly on the edge, planting your hands on his lower back underneath his scars and resisting the urge to dig your nails into the skin.

He’s drunk from you enough times since you met to know where the limit lies, even on the cusp of his climax. He drains you until you’re sufficiently lightheaded, but not enough to harm you, then pulls away, planting a messy kiss on your mouth.

Messy. It’s how you know he’s close. His actions are usually so graceful, his movements lithe and calculated. Only on the edge of orgasm do the pretenses fall away - his shaking thighs, soft moans into your lips, panting, blood smeared across his lips and almost certainly yours.

There’s a blinding moment of pleasure as he thrusts harder, deeper, neither of you caring about the level of noise you’re making, and your nails dig into his back. He lets out a groan of approval, then - gods, you’re climaxing again, your whole body trembling with the waves of pleasure that crash over you. Overwhelming at first, then receding into the brief moment of clarity that lasts a minute or two this time.

Then the spores start their work again.

The heat isn’t nearly as intense this time, but it’s still there. Part of you wonders if it’ll ever really fade. You lay still, gasping, as Astarion slowly pulls out of you. Then he brushes the damp hair out of your face and kisses you again.

“Darling,” he starts breathlessly, flashing a mischievous grin at you, “if this is where we’ll end up, you should fall into mysterious spores more often.”

You laugh, sending a playful, light hit toward his shoulder. He catches your hand mid-action, pressing a kiss to your palm, holding your gaze the entire time. “You’re not the one who feels like they’re on fire, Astarion.”

He hums, kissing back down your neck, cleaning up the remnants of blood from his bite. “I wouldn’t say that,” he says, his voice gravelly with want.

That gives you pause. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says with some effort, propping himself above you, “whatever those spores were - they seem to have entered your bloodstream, my dear. It’s - an interesting sensation, I’ll admit.”

You’re searching his face for a tell that he’s not being serious, but instead you find wide, blown out pupils, flushed cheeks, and nothing beside his usual mischievousness. Any blood left in your face quickly exits. “Gods, I didn’t even think. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be. I’m not.” He presses another soft kiss to your lips, and you see a small smear of your blood on his lips. When you lick your lips, you can taste the iron of it on your tongue.

Astarion is watching you. His gaze darkens, and he lets out another thin, broken groan. “Darling. At this rate, we’ll be going the whole night.”

And, honestly? With the rate the heat is returning - you don’t doubt it.

Still, you gently ease him off of you to sit up, then make your way into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

There’s something addictive about Astarion - there always has been. From the moment he’d had you against the dirt, a dagger to your neck, he’s been your fix.

In those first days when you’d had to hide your want for him - not even lust or sheer desire, but want; the ache to run your finger through silver curls, the warmth in your cheeks when he held your gaze just a moment too long, and the rare moments of vulnerability that came more and more as you’d gotten to know him - it had been torture.

And then he’d propositioned you. And all at once, you’d found yourself in a clearing under silver moonlight, alone with him, long before you ever knew the extent of what had been done to him - and after all this time, the craving for him, the need to lay beside him in the long nights and find him there come morning, has only ever gotten so much stronger.

The heat is somewhat bearable now. Enough to take a moment to admire him, head tilted as he gazes up at you, pure need simmering in his eyes. Dark, glinting rubies. His fangs, barely visible under parted lips. Flushed cheeks. That will fade before long; the rosiness of drinking never lasts more than a few minutes, but you admire it all the same.

“You’re beautiful.” The words are hushed. You hadn’t even meant to speak them, but your mind isn’t really yours at the moment, not wholly, not as firm as it should be. You feel half-drunk, half-needy.

The corners of his lips flick into a smile, and he raises a brow. “Oh?” he asks, clearly stealing for more flattery. “Do you think so?”

You lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You know I do.”

You gather a single, loose curl in your fingertips and gently roll it between your thumb and index finger, admiring the softness of it. You could use the same soaps, wash your hair with the same things he uses a thousand times over, and it’d never matter. It’d never be as soft as his.

“Anything in particular?” he asks. His voice is particularly airy; he’s battling between begging you for what he needs, and the compliments he likes so much.

You think back to when you’d first described him - that night beneath the stars, when he’d tossed the mirror aside and asked how you viewed him. Words hadn’t been enough then, and they still aren’t, but you’ll try.

“Your eyes,” you start, running your finger over his crow’s feet. “They change color in the light. Right now, they’re dark. Hungry. I can tell you want me, and I like that.”

His hands, which have strayed to the back of your thighs, tighten against your skin. “And? What else?”

The heat’s strength is back, clawing its way up your abdomen. “The way your hair curls around your ears,” you murmur.

He frowns, and you know you’ve gone too poetic. To distract him, you lean in and nip at the lobe of one, and any of his upset disintegrates.

“Gods,” he murmurs, bringing his hands up to your waist. “Darling, I can’t wait much longer-”

You’ve trailed down to his jaw, alternating between kisses and sharp little nips just like the ones he likes to give you, and the words die in his mouth in favor of a sharp inhale.

You won’t keep him waiting much longer. In fact, you have a plan. A plan that’d hatched from the moment you’d realized that the spores were in his system, too. Since you’d seen the hungry look in his eyes - every inch a predator circling around its prey.

Only, you’re not content to be the prey. You want to disarm him, and if any of the time you’ve spent together means anything, you’ve gotten very, very good at that.

His shirt is still on, so your hands are quick to remove it, tugging it away from cooling porcelain skin, silky under your fingers as you drag them down his sternum. He shudders, and you remember how it’d felt when he’d first touched you. If it’s anything like that, he’s probably dying to beg you for more.

Your lips soon follow the path your hands are sitting, taking your time with the softness of his abdomen before you pull his trousers away. He’s panting now, and a frenzied sort of desperation lies in his gaze when you look up at him.

And he’s hard again. Leaking.

You lightly trace your nails down his thighs, silently relishing in the way his breath hitches - the way his hips unconsciously buck toward you.

“Gods,” he says again, and though it isn’t a direct request, with the broken way it falls off his tongue, this time it is every bit a plea.

And you’re in a mood to please.

You take his cock in hand, swiping your thumb over the head, where precum is slowly leaking, and he lets out a long, breathy noise. You hum in response, taking his length between your lips, and the sound becomes strained, more needy. His hand gently makes its way into your hair, very lightly guiding you where he wants, but not forcefully.

You alternate between things: long, even movements of your mouth as you drag your tongue down the shaft, swirling your tongue around the head, then sucking him hard and slow. Eventually, simply following the guidance of his hand. His grip tightens in your hair - not painful, just encouraging - and his noises become more drawn out, less coherent.

When you pull away for a moment, using your hand to continue what your mouth had just been doing, you find him dangerously close. You press a kiss to the head and take him in again, increasing pace, accommodating him as you take him in as far as you possibly can, and he starts whimpering.

“Please,” he says, and if that isn’t a rare word to hear from him.

On another day, you might tease him, but you don’t want to. Not now, while he’s begging to have you. Instead, you take him as deep as you can again and suck harder. Astarion tugs at your hair and his thighs shudder and you know he’s close.

“Please,” he says again. “Gods, don’t stop.”

And you wouldn’t dream of it. What you can’t take into your mouth, you use your hand to stroke, and that’s it. He’s coming.

There’s something artful about it - the tremor that runs through him, the salty taste of him in your mouth, and those seeking, breathless sounds that come out of him as he spills onto your tongue. A long, shaky inhale as he pumps his hips, still chasing out his pleasure, then the trembling exhale as his mind starts to come back to him.

He doesn’t soften, and you don’t take your mouth off him. Not yet.

Usually, Astarion can be counted on for two orgasms, but if those spores are doing anything remotely like what they were doing to you, there’s certain to be much, much more than that.

“By the hells,” he murmurs airily, running a hand down your back. “You’re going to kill me, darling.”

You pull away for a moment, kissing at his abdomen, keeping his eyes locked on his as you do. “Does that mean you want me to stop?” you ask sweetly, trailing your nails along the skin of his thigh.

He swallows hard. “Gods, don’t,” he pleads.

And you don’t.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

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idkyetxoxo · 4 days ago

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Nine | Enchanted | Aemond Targaryen

Word count - 3315

Warnings - None

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The next morning greeted me with a dull ache in my head and the sensation of fabric clinging awkwardly to my skin.

I blinked awake, realizing I was still in the dress from the night before, hair a tangled mess, but at least I had made it to my own bed.

As I rubbed my temples, groaning at the fragments of memories swirling in my mind, the sound of bustling footsteps filled the room, my handmaidens already moving with their usual efficiency.

"Did you have fun last night, Princess?" Adryana chirped, far too cheerful for the state I was in as she threw open the curtains.

Sunlight spilt in like a tidal wave, flooding the room in blinding brightness.

I winced, throwing an arm over my eyes. "Not so loud," I mumbled, but my complaint only earned laughter from her and the others.

Despite my groaning protests, they set to work, easing me into a cool bath, scrubbing away the remnants of the night. The water was refreshing, reviving me bit by bit, washing away the exhaustion and too much wine.

By the time I was dressed and ready, Alaric was already at my side, shadowing me like always as I made my way downstairs for breakfast.

The dining hall greeted me with the sight of my father sitting at the table, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, and Nymor slouched miserably beside him, his head buried in his hands.

Clearly, I wasn't the only one suffering from the effects of the night.

I planted a quick kiss on my father's cheek and ruffled Nymor's hair as I passed, settling into my seat with a sigh.

"How was the celebration, my love?" my father asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity as I gratefully reached for the cool water in front of me, letting it soothe my parched throat.

"It was wonderful," I replied with a small smile. "More beautiful than any year before."

My father nodded, clearly pleased, but I couldn't resist teasing Nymor.

"I barely saw you all night," I quipped, raising an eyebrow at him, knowing full well he'd been lost somewhere in the wine and revelry.

Nymor lifted his head just enough to glare at me through bleary eyes. "Maybe that's because you only had eyes for that Targaryen prince," he muttered, his voice thick with irritation.

The playful atmosphere shifted instantly. His words struck a nerve, my smile fading as a pang of guilt tugged at my chest.

I glanced at my father, who was now watching me with a cautious expression. He opened his mouth to speak, but I silenced him with a sharp look.

"Don't," I warned quietly, unwilling to turn this into a discussion. Thankfully, he seemed to understand and closed his mouth again.

Nymor, however, wasn't so easily deterred. He pushed his chair back with a loud scrape, standing abruptly, casting me one last pointed look before storming out of the hall.

"Nymor!" I called after him, but he was already gone.

Frustration bubbled up inside me as I ran a hand through my freshly brushed hair, my pulse quickening with the need to fix this. I couldn't let things end like that between us.

Without another thought, I stood and quickly followed him, determined to make things right.

It didn't take long to find myself outside his chambers, pounding on the heavy wooden door. "Nymor, open up!" I demanded, my patience wearing thin.

When there was no response, I leaned my forehead against the door, sighing. "Don't make me get Alaric to break it down."

A pause. Then, a faint click of the lock.

I slipped inside to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, his expression guarded and closed off.

I sat down beside him, the bed dipping slightly under my weight. "Are you upset with me?" I asked, keeping my voice soft, almost tentative.

Nymor didn't answer right away. He leaned back on his hands, staring at the floor. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

"You swore you'd never even speak to a Targaryen, let alone fall for one." His tone was filled with disbelief, as though he couldn't reconcile the girl who once spat their name with the one sitting beside him now.

I sighed, the weight of my own confusion pressing down on me. "Nymor, he's not like the others," I said softly, knowing how empty the words must sound to him.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "What is this then? Do you love him?" The question was sharp, cutting like he couldn't believe it might be true.

My heart stilled. Love? The word hung between us, heavy, charged. I hesitated, the truth trembling on the edge of my lips. And then, quietly, almost to myself, I whispered, "I think so."

The room seemed to freeze. Nymor's head snapped toward me, shock etched into every line of his face. He hadn't expected me to say it, maybe hadn't even expected me to realize it.

And yet, here it was, a confession, unbidden and undeniable.

I felt my pulse quicken, my hand reaching out to entwine my fingers with his.

"I can't help how I feel," I murmured, my voice trembling slightly. "I've tried to forget him, but no matter where I am or what I'm doing, he's always there. In my thoughts, in my heart..."

Nymor's fingers tightened around mine, the war between loyalty and betrayal playing out clearly in his eyes. He was silent for a long moment before his shoulders sagged, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm going to miss you." There was no anger now, just a quiet, vulnerable truth.

My throat tightened at his words. "I'm going to miss you more," I admitted, feeling the bittersweet sting of what this meant for us—for the bond we'd always shared.

We had been inseparable for as long as I could remember, and the thought of not having him by my side every day felt like losing a part of myself.

I reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort, though the ache in my chest told me it was futile. "But I'll come back. I promise, Nymor. I won't let too much time pass between us. You know that, right?"

He tried to smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You better. The castle's going to feel empty without you."

I laughed softly, though there was a bittersweetness lacing my voice. "You'll manage. Besides, you've got Yoren and Meric to keep you company."

He snorted, shaking his head. "As if they could ever replace you."

With that, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into a fierce embrace. For a moment, he hesitated, then hugged me back tightly, the way he always had—protective, strong.

We clung to each other, both of us knowing that this moment was a farewell of sorts, even if we didn't say the words aloud.

"I'll write to you," I whispered against his shoulder, my voice thick with emotion. "And when I come back, we'll pick up right where we left off."

He nodded, his hold on me tightening as if trying to hold on to this moment a little longer. "You better not forget that promise," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

"I won't," I vowed, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. "No matter what happens, no matter how far I go, I'll always come back to you."

We sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, the silence between us filled with the weight of unspoken promises.

And as we finally pulled apart, I knew that nothing—not distance, not time—could ever truly break the bond we shared.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

The sun bathed the courtyard in a golden warmth, casting long shadows over the stone as I reclined lazily on a cushioned bench, drink in hand, and watched my brother and his friends pretend to train.

Their swords clanged, but the effort was half-hearted, the clinks of steel punctuated by laughter and jest.

What had started as an exercise in discipline had quickly dissolved into gossip and posturing, their so-called practice nothing more than an excuse to rehash the night's mischief.

I swirled my wine, half-amused by their antics, half-bored by the predictability of it all.

My brother Nymor, always the ringleader, was at the centre of the group, gesturing dramatically as Meric and Yoren egged him on.

They were acting like children, and I was content to watch the spectacle unfold—until Yoren broke away from the pack, swaggering over with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"And what about you, Princess?" he asked, voice teasing as he wagged his eyebrows. His grin was as suggestive as ever, causing Nymor and Meric to snicker behind him.

I met his gaze without missing a beat, a playful smirk curling at my lips.

"No one," I lied smoothly, taking a sip of wine with all the nonchalance I could muster. Yoren's face fell into an exaggerated pout, though the twinkle in his eye remained.

"Oh, come now, Princess. You can't expect us to believe that" Meric chimed in, abandoning his sword to join the interrogation.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "There's nothing to tell," I insisted, though the smug look on my face probably gave me away.

It was a game we played too often—this little dance where they pried and I denied, giving just enough to stoke their curiosity.

Yoren leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice.

"Are you sure it wasn't your ever-vigilant protector again?" he asked with a grin, nodding subtly in the direction of Alaric, who stood nearby, stoic as ever.

I gasped, swatting him across the chest with mock outrage. "You're impossible, Yoren!" I exclaimed, but the grin I wore betrayed the amusement I couldn't hide.

Alaric remained as impassive as a statue, but I could have sworn I saw the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth at the mention of his name.

"You three are absolutely shameless," I muttered, crossing my arms as they exchanged mischievous glances.

Nymor raised his hands in a gesture of innocence, his expression feigning shock. "I didn't even say anything!" he protested, but the smirk tugging at his lips said otherwise.

"Guilt by association," I shot back, crossing my arms and taking another sip, my gaze narrowing playfully at the lot of them. Their laughter rang out in response, unabashed and carefree.

Meric, ever the cheeky one, slung an arm around Nymor's shoulders, shaking his head. "We can't help it, Princess. You're just too easy to tease."

I sighed dramatically, setting my glass down with a flourish. "One of these days, you'll run out of gossip," I said with a smirk, "and when you do, I'll be the one laughing."

Yoren chuckled, nudging me lightly. "We just want to make sure you're having fun too, you know."

I gave him a playful pinch on the cheek. "Oh, darling, I am the epitome of fun. In fact, there's no one in this kingdom who knows how to have more fun than I do."

Nymor snorted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "That's true. No one can keep up with you, sister."

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to a sultry whisper, drawing them all closer like moths to a flame. Their eyes widened with anticipation, hanging on my every word.

"But if you must know," I said, drawing out the moment, savouring their eagerness, "there may have been a carriage involved last night."

The revelation hung in the air like sweet, forbidden fruit, just tantalizing enough to ignite their imaginations.

Meric's grin stretched wide across his face, eyes twinkling with mischief. "A carriage?" he drawled, wagging his eyebrows. "Scandalous, Princess."

I laughed, tossing my hair over my shoulder as if it were the most casual thing in the world.

I loved these moments, feeding them just enough to keep them guessing, watching them scramble to piece together the rest.

But before the teasing could continue, a voice interrupted from behind. "Princess."

I turned, and my breath caught for a split second as I saw Aemond and Helaena approaching. Aemond's presence was as commanding as ever, his single eye fixed on me with a calm intensity, while Helaena's smile, soft and unassuming, immediately lightened the mood.

"Aemond," I said, his name slipping from my lips before I could stop myself. I recovered quickly, offering Helaena a warm smile. "And Helaena. It's always lovely to see you."

"May we join you?" Helaena asked, her voice lilting with the soft politeness I adored.

"Of course," I gestured to the bench beside me, though my heart was racing at Aemond's presence, my usual fire momentarily dimmed under the weight of his gaze.

Yoren and Meric exchanged glances, eyebrows raised as they watched me—the sharp-tongued, playful princess—suddenly become uncharacteristically composed.

Helaena, ever oblivious to the tension, looked around at the swords scattered on the ground. "What were you all talking about?"

Before anyone could answer, Meric, with his usual lack of tact, began, "The princess was just about to tell us how—"

I pinched his leg, making him yelp and earning myself a wounded look.

"Just how much fun last night's celebration was," I interrupted smoothly, throwing a quick, warning glance at Nymor, who wisely stayed silent.

Helaena, thankfully, took my answer at face value, her curiosity sated. But Aemond's gaze lingered on me, sharp and unreadable, as if he could see through the carefully constructed facade I wore.

In an attempt to change the subject, I asked, "And where is Aegon this morning? Still sleeping off his indulgences, I assume?"

Helaena laughed softly, her tone both amused and exasperated. "As always. He had quite the night."

Aemond's gaze flickered across the abandoned swords, his single, sharp eye taking in the remnants of Yoren and Meric's half-hearted attempt at training.

The gossip and laughter that had replaced sparring seemed to amuse him, though he kept his expression impassive, ever the picture of controlled restraint.

He turned towards Nymor, a faint challenge simmering beneath the cool civility of his voice.

"May I join you?" he asked, though his tone made it sound less like a question and more like a test.

For a moment, Nymor hesitated, glancing in my direction as if seeking silent counsel. I tensed, bracing myself for what I was certain would be Nymor's typical sharp refusal, the same one he reserved for anyone who crossed into his personal territory—especially Aemond.

I could practically feel the air thicken with tension, my fingers curling into the fabric of my dress in anticipation.

But then, something unexpected happened.

Nymor gave a slow, measured nod, his voice calm and even. "Of course," he said, surprising us all. "We could use another pair of hands."

I blinked, stunned by the absence of sarcasm or barbed undertones. No mocking smile, no cutting remark. Just a simple, earnest acceptance that left me momentarily speechless.

Aemond, too, seemed caught off guard—his face remained impassive, but I saw the faintest flicker of surprise in his eye. It was fleeting, but it was there.

It was a small gesture, but one that rippled through me like a quiet thrill. I realized, in that moment, that Nymor's nod was more than an agreement—it was an olive branch.

A tentative truce, silently acknowledging that perhaps Aemond wasn't as unwelcome as he had once been. My heart swelled at the thought.

As the boys moved toward the training area, I found myself settling back on the bench beside Helaena, attempting to refocus my attention on our conversation. But it was no use.

My gaze kept drifting back to Aemond and Nymor, their swords raised, steel catching the glint of the afternoon sun as they squared off.

Nymor tested Aemond's reflexes with a series of quick, precise strikes—each one calculated, probing. But Aemond countered effortlessly, every movement deliberate, honed by years of discipline.

There was a quiet intensity about him, a controlled ferocity that made it impossible to look away.

"They look good together, don't they?" Helaena's soft voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back into the present.

I nodded absently, still watching Aemond with a kind of fascination I couldn't quite explain.

There was something mesmerizing in the way he fought—graceful, yet relentless. His focus was razor-sharp, each step, each swing of his sword, executed with deadly precision.

"Yes," I murmured, my voice distant. "I didn't expect Nymor to agree."

Helaena smiled, a knowing glint in her eye. "Your brother is stubborn," she said, her tone gentle, "but he's not blind. He knows you care about Aemond, and that's enough for him to make an effort."

Her words hung between us, soft yet weighty with unspoken understanding. I swallowed, the warmth of her insight sinking deep into my chest.

Before I could respond, a sharp clang of steel drew my attention back to the sparring match.

Nymor and Aemond were locked in a rapid exchange of blows, neither one yielding an inch. But there was no hostility in their movements—no anger or resentment, just a shared respect that hadn't been there before.

Nymor was testing Aemond, and Aemond was rising to the challenge without hesitation, matching him strike for strike.

With every pass of their swords, I could feel the tension between them easing, a tentative camaraderie beginning to form in the heat of battle.

It was a dance of sorts—each blow, each parry, a step toward mutual understanding.

"It's odd, isn't it?" I mused aloud, more to myself than to Helaena. "Seeing them like this."

Helaena nodded, her smile serene. "Change is often unexpected," she said, her voice carrying a quiet wisdom, "but that doesn't mean it's unwelcome."

I tried to focus on her words, on the gentle rhythm of our conversation, but my eyes kept drifting back to Aemond. There was something captivating in the way he moved—fluid, powerful, like a force of nature contained within the elegant sweep of his sword.

Every time he landed a hit or blocked one of Nymor's strikes, a surge of pride bloomed in my chest, warm and unbidden.

Nymor, too, seemed to be enjoying himself. His usual guarded demeanour had melted away, replaced by a rare look of concentration—and, dare I say, enjoyment.

The tension that had once crackled between them like a live wire now seemed to soften, giving way to something quieter, more respectful.

I sipped my drink, though my thoughts were far from the conversation. A smile tugged at my lips every time Aemond pulled off a particularly clever move, and when Nymor gave a begrudging nod of approval, I felt my heart lift in ways I hadn't anticipated.

Helaena nudged me gently, catching the smile I was trying so hard to hide. "You like watching him," she observed, her tone teasing but kind.

I rolled my eyes, feigning indifference, though the warmth spreading through my chest was undeniable.

"It's just... interesting," I said weakly, but the excuse was flimsy, earning me a knowing look from Helaena.

"Interesting," she repeated, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "I think it's more than that."

I didn't bother responding—there was no point in pretending anymore. Helaena's knowing smile lingered between us, and in the silence that followed, I couldn't deny the quiet joy I felt watching Aemond and Nymor.

These were two parts of my world that had once seemed so far apart, now finding a way to coexist, however imperfectly.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. And that, in itself, felt like a victory.

Aemond caught my eye for the briefest of moments, and though no words passed between us, the look we shared was enough. There was an understanding there, a silent promise.

Something was shifting, changing. And for once, the change didn't feel like a threat—it felt like a possibility.

Nymor's quiet acceptance, however subtle, was the first step in bridging the divide that had once seemed so insurmountable.

And as Aemond and Nymor continued their sparring, swords clashing in the afternoon light, I couldn't help but feel that the path forward was starting to clear.

The walls that had once separated them were beginning to crumble, and in their place, something new was taking shape.

Something that, for the first time, felt like hope.

A/n - Second last chapter and she has finally admitted her feelings!

Enchanted tag list - @mamawiggers1980 @shilphy87 @esposadomd @targaryendestiel @deepeststarlightmoon

@thebirdandthebee @queen-of-elves @believeinthefireflies95 @veesuguru

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #team green #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond

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bluestmoons · 4 years ago

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@myloyalty didn’t know what she was giving me permission for

The first time Leonie saw Jeremiah again was at a rather droll meeting.

Though the voices of her superiors were wickedly boring and unspirited, their message was anything but. They were sharing intel on the platoon that’d recently ravaged the ghettos, and they were all attempting to put together ways to strike back effectively.

( This hardly ever worked. They were barely hanging on as was -- they simply didn’t have the time or resources to dismantle individual platoons. Still, extra information never hurt, did it...? )

Leonie was flipping through the profiles on a device before her, skimming faces, names, sparse bios with a spattering of their accomplishments, when...

Tanned skin. Curled, dark hair. Thin gold eyes that pierced even in a photograph. The words, above his picture: MARGRAVE GOTTWALD, JEREMIAH.

Her throat dropped through the floor.

No one noticed her sink entirely into herself as she met Jeremiah’s eyes for the first time since she’d been a teen. No one else saw the world fade to grays. Only her memories were in stunning color -- his red cheeks under the moonlight, his amber glance caught in a camera flash, his pink lips moving against hers, his pale face at the funeral, the last time she ever--...

No. God, no. No. Please.

It couldn’t really be him, could it?

The meeting ended, eventually, and Leonie sought the first empty room she could find. Her eyes swallowed the words as though she were a fish searching for water. Eldest son of--... In the Britannian army since--... Promoted on--... It was all matching up, too perfectly, and there was no denying that face. It was exactly the same expression he’d scowled at her with ever since their first meeting when she’d kissed his hand in his very own banquet hall.

It was a torrential downpour. A beginning that seemed to’ve already started, somehow, without her knowledge, perhaps many, many years ago. Leonie sobbed, wretchedly, openly like a starving babe, like an abandoned child, nothing at all like the warrior she’d long carved and crafted herself to be. Every memory, thought, feeling of him that was once held inside was suddenly at the forefront.

For the first time since she left him, Leonie let herself truly think of him.

No -- not see something that reminded her of him and immediately barricade the thought away. Not think she heard his voice, or saw his face, but abandon the consideration before her heart could even begin to ache. But think of him. Fully, and truly. Her and him grappling on the floor of the banquet hall, her in laughter. The two of them having a picnic beneath her mother’s window with stale bread in the middle of the night. The long battle at daybreak and him running desperately home. Him sweeping her across ballroom as elegantly as they were a natural pair that’d been training to dance with one another since birth. Her hand in his, and them knee-deep in pond water, and their first hug, with their clothes wet and foul-smelling, and him showing her how to aim a gun, and--

Where are you

Her last text to him. And -- and he was here!

God... God... of all the places in all of the world, why did he have to be here?

There was nothing beautiful or poetic about the way she crumbled that night, the way she screamed for the memory of a friend she’d thought she’d lost. Her face was coated in tears, snot, and she gasped and grappled with breath so long she was certain she’d stop breathing altogether.

They were on opposite sides of a war. A war she was truly committed to. And she recalled his stubborn gaze -- he would not back down from his side so easily. Especially with the handiwork she had just seen of him. God, to compare the young boy she knew with the man who left bodies of innocents strewn around... how could he! She was nauseated with the dissonance, had to bite on her fists to stave the bile.

Maybe she should run away again. For even were he to be wretched now, how could she raise her sword to him? He, who had once meant so much to her? How could she lose him, after...

“Is he okay?”

Her phone was tucked away before she slipped down into the opening, reached forward to link her fingers with the outstretched hand leaning back. “Certainly.”

“Are-- are you confident?”

“Undoubtedly so. He was far too coarse to be in any real danger.”

Alexei’s thin frame sighed in relief, and he looked genuinely soothed. “Thank God...”

How easily that outcome could’ve been different -- a few words from her, and his face would’ve twisted up in pain, eyes would’ve shined terror. But, no, it wasn’t just for memory of Alexei! Leonie could recall the way her own stomach flopped when she recognized the direction the assailants were coming from, when she waited for a return message. She’d felt faint with the thought that something could’ve happened.

She never would’ve considered that she’d be the thing that could--

If she weren’t careful, she would lose her stomach completely. She was far too warm, body ran clean with unbounding feeling.

... ... No. If Leonie ran away, someone else would certainly kill him in her stead. That would be no better than killing him herself. She had to do something. She had to do something--

For the first night, of course, she just cried. Hopeless, and aching, and shards of her soul splayed so open that she didn’t drift off for even a minute.

Her little outburst did not go unnoticed by the others in her company. They whispered of womanly hormones and chuckled to themselves. If Leonie were in any other mood, she’d’ve had a sharp remark and thwack upside the head for them. But -- no. It was better than the truth. Let them think of her as a raving woman until she could prove to herself that she wasn’t.

She worked herself harder than, perhaps, she should’ve in order to suffer through her feelings -- and to punish herself for her slip, of course. She wound her bandages tighter, she hit harder, she ran further. She’d run herself so ragged that emotions were the least of her concerns by the night the broadcast was on.

Jeremiah Gottwald -- because, of course, why wouldn’t it be him, right? -- was leading an honorary Britannian to a public execution and all of Japan and Britannia was watching. That smug expression, that confident stature... a rush of annoyance and a need to protect bubbled up within her, hand-in-hand.

God, she hated him.

And then, with the world as his audience, he did something completely unexpected.

He gave the young Japanese man being sent to his death back to the resistance. Leonie wasn’t the only one to watch in stunned shock, but she was very likely the only one to shed tears at his action. ( This time, she did knock sense into someone who dared to tease her for the display. ) What did this mean? Had he come to his senses? Was this a small act of rebellion, the only spot of himself he could force out?

What would happen to him now that he’d disobeyed Britannia so publicly, so obviously?

For starters, he was stripped of his title, hidden among the masses as a disgrace. As for what would come next -- she didn’t want to wait around to find out.

It took a great deal of convincing her superior, but she’d been a reliable fighter and had worked way through the ranks enough that her opinion held some weight, even though she was a foreigner. Finally he’d assented, sent her off with a small team and a wary gaze.

The world was warm, heady with rainfall that’d begin late in the night and was scheduled to continue well into the next few days. A perfect day for a kidnapping, Leonie mused, sullenly. If she was wrong -- if she’d misread that drastic flip in him -- he’d be furious with her.

Furious and alive, though, which was more than what she could promise with Britannia. Besides -- furious was like a default setting with him. He was always mad, wasn’t he...?

Jeremiah was in his office, in a rather secluded part of a government building, and his shadow was slow, still. Hopefully the concern wouldn’t rouse him too much -- just enough to stand, and exit. Leonie set up some gunmen in perches and had one of them call his last name in a desperate tone.

Curiosity appeared to eventually get the better of him, and he stumbled to his door and wandered into the hall. Oh God... his footsteps were dragging, sluggish. The ground didn’t even need to whisper it; she heard it. Drunk.

From a bannister, still, she sunk, dressed darkly and holding no weapon at the ready. Instead -- she stretched forward a hand.

“Jeremiah.” A gentle tone, kind, lulling. Her eyes shine easily -- a color and mischief that seemed to play that she’d had no feelings at all to wrestle through prior to their meeting here.

“I’m here to save you.”

#( the rising of. ) leonie.#( the lively lady. ) leonie.#( v. code geass. ) leonie.#i'm here to save you

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marauderundercover · 3 years ago

Text

Making Memories: Ch. 10

Day 10: Scars and Darken

AO3

Marinette sits straight up in bed, gasping for air as she tries to reground herself to reality. Clutching her sheets, she looks around the room, her chest pounding as the darkness closes in on her. She reaches over and quickly flips on the lamp on her bedside table to try and chase away the shapes she saw in the darkness around her. The ones that looked like shadows- shadows of her biggest fears. Letting out a quiet sob, she pulls her knees to her chest and buries her face into her folded arms, hoping she would cry soft enough that it wouldn’t wake up anyone else. She didn’t want anyone else to worry about her.

The thing about being killed, watching your city die, watching your best friend turn into a supervillain, almost being killed by the same psycho who killed your brother- things like that leave scars. Not physical scars that people can see and ask questions about. Which is a blessing, because she didn’t want people to see what felt like giant scars- they’d look at her differently. But with physical scars, you can see them heal. You can watch as they fade away, becoming almost unnoticeable. You couldn’t watch mental scars heal. Couldn’t even see the beginning of the process. Made it hard to know if things were really getting better or not.

Letting out one last, shaky breath, Marinette pushes the covers off, sliding out of her bed and shivering as her bare feet come in contact with the cold floor. Slipping on a pair of fuzzy socks and one of Jason’s old hoodies she’d taken, she decides to take a walk around the manor- maybe do some stress baking. Glancing at the time on her phone, she quickly calculates the time difference and decides to call her parents instead of baking. Tiptoeing into the kitchen, she breathes a sigh of relief that no one else was in there. It was far enough away from the other rooms in the house, that she would hopefully not wake up anybody else. Hitting the call button, she only has to wait a few minutes before her Maman and Papa answer, smiles on their faces.

“Marinette! How have you been, sweetheart? Just texting isn’t the same.” Her Maman says. Marinette barely represses a wince. She hadn’t video called her parents since before the Joker thing- the still healing bruises would’ve been difficult to lie away. And if her parents knew the truth….she was afraid they’d never let her see the other half of her family again.

“Hi, Maman. I’ve been...tired, lately.” She admits, giving her parents a small smile. Her Papa chuckles.

“Well I’d think so. It’s- hmm, three in the morning in Gotham?” He teases, though the worry was clear in his face. Marinette laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Yeah, I- well...nightmares.” She says, knowing that her parents will automatically think of the akuma war, and the times she was caught up as a civilian. They won’t think about the battles she’d nearly lost, the bodies she’d had to move, the torture she’d lived through a mere month ago. Her parents’ faces both soften as they nod in understanding. Nightmares were one of the most common side effects from Hawkmoth’s reign.

“You really should try to go back to sleep. Especially since you just got over being so sick.” Her Maman says gently. Marinette sighs, but nods. She knew that she should sleep. It was a toss up if that would actually happen or not.

“Okay. I’m gonna go guys, thanks for listening.” She says, trying not to let them see how much she doesn’t want to leave. How much she doesn’t want to try to go back to sleep. They both say a quick goodbye and hang up. She doesn’t move, just stares at her phone until it times out and goes dark. She plays with the idea of calling Adrien, but quickly decides against it. They still talked, occasionally, but she hadn’t kept him updated about things in Gotham. Meaning he had no idea about the Joker. Or the fact that she was still having nightmares of him turning into a supervillain version of himself and murdering the entire world. It was weird. Her entire world used to revolve around Adrien and his schedule and then one day- it just stopped. She no longer knew where he was at every moment of the day, and if she was honest, she didn’t care. Sure, she still cared about her friend, but she didn’t need to know everything that he was doing. Harley had called it growth, when she brought it up in one of their sessions. Apparently despite the fact that she completely believed she’d been in love with him, she’d done it way wrong. It was actually very harmful, and not a healthy start to any kind of relationship.

Once she decides not to call Adrien, she sighs, continuing her staring contest with the darkened phone. Sitting in the kitchen, alone with her back towards a window, makes her skin start to itch. Shuddering, she stands to go back to her room, when the kitchen door is pushed open. She blinks as Tim walks in, (probably empty) cup in one hand as he tiredly rubs his face with the other. He doesn’t say anything, just reaches out to pour more coffee into his cup.

“Stupid contracts with that slimy- Mars? What’re you doing up?” He asks, pausing his cup halfway to his mouth. She shrugs, and he frowns. “Nightmares?” He asks. She huffs.

“Yes. And I hate it because I shouldn’t still be having these stupid ass nightmares almost every night and at this point, I’m just so tired and I don’t even know what to do. I want to sleep, I want to go to sleep and wake up not feeling more exhausted than when I went to sleep, but I can’t. And I’m just so tired.” Marinette rants, her voice breaking. She huffs, angrily wiping her tears away. “Sorry.” She adds, refusing to make eye contact. Every time she had a stupid breakdown like this, it made her feel awful. She was supposed to be a hero, she wasn’t supposed to break down like this.

“Wanna come work on a cold case with me? No stakes, just mindlessly sorting through facts and evidence.” Tim offers, (thankfully) ignoring her little rant. She risks glancing up, not seeing the pity or disgust she’d expected.

“That actually sounds perfect.” She sighs, quickly grabbing a cup and filling it with coffee before following her brother, thankful to have a reason to not try and go back to sleep.

---

Marinette lets out a laugh, jumping from roof to roof. She’d been ‘Poppy’ for almost two weeks, and somehow, she’d managed to avoid all of the Bats. Even Jay. If she had to guess, one of the Kwamis was doing something. Tikki with their luck, or maybe Trixx was making an illusion of Marinette at home. Though, nothing catastrophic had happened. So maybe she really was just that lucky. Just as that thought runs through her head, she missteps and crashes through a skylight with a scream. Landing roughly on the metal catwalk in the building she’d been running over moments ago, she lets out a gasp, trying to catch her breath again.

“Poppy, sweetie, answer me.” Harley’s panicked voice sounds through the comm. Marinette coughs twice, trying to get enough air to answer.

“Sorry, ‘m fine. Fell through a skylight.” She mutters, smiling fondly at Harley’s exasperated huff.

“You are not going more than five feet away from me next time, young lady. Your mom is going to have my head!” She cries. Marinette just snorts, waving as she sees shadows on the skylight.

“You’re fast.” Marinette remarks into the comm.

“I’m not there.” Harley says, making Marinette’s blood run cold. The other Sirens didn’t technically know that Harley and Marinette were out for a run. Selina was definitely supposed to be on patrol with- oh god. It’s definitely a bat. And she’d just waved. Oh god, she’s so grounded. Pushing herself up to her feet, Marinette gives a two fingered salute to her dad as he drops down onto the catwalk.

“Am I right in assuming you are ‘Poppy’?” He asks, his voice gruff. But beneath it, she could hear the clear frustration in his voice. She sucks in her cheeks to keep herself from laughing. Her mom had told her that she’d been giving her dad the runaround every time he asked about her new Siren alter ego. Apparently, he still had no idea it was Marinette. She definitely didn’t want to mess that up now. Instead of talking, she nods, giving a quick thumbs up.

“Poppy? I’m almost there. Are you okay, kiddo?” Harley’s voice cuts through her comm. Marinette winces, not wanting to talk in front of her dad. That would definitely give her away.

“Poppy? Why didn’t I know you were going on a run tonight?” Selina asks, dropping down next to her dad. Well crap. Marinette winces, before shrugging innocently. “Oh don’t you give me that, young lady. Where’s Harley? Or Ivy?”

“Right here, kitty. Take a breather- I was behind her the whole time.” Harley says, dropping in and holding her hands up placatingly.

“Sure, then why the hell did she fall through a skylight?” Selina asks, arms crossed.

“Have you ever tried to keep up with this kid? It’s impossible.” Harley reminds her. “I was super close though. She was barely out of sight when she fell.”

“She’s still supposed to text the group chat when she’s going out.” Selina huffs. Marinette sighs, wanting nothing more than to reassure her mom that she’s okay, and that she was okay (prior to the whole, falling through a skylight thing).

“And now she knows how pissed you’ll be if she forgets. Listen, kid needed a break. It’s been a rough couple of days.” Harley says, alluding to their most recent therapy session. Marinette had ended the session a huge mess, crying and panicking until she passed out in her bonus mom’s arms. Not exactly a fun experience. Her bonus mom pinches the bridge of her nose, before sighing.

“Fine. But we are talking about this the next time you come to the apartment.” She says. Her dad clears his throat, obviously done letting everyone else talk over him.

“That won’t be necessary.” He says, making Marinette frown. What? “You can talk to her on your way home. Since she’s not cleared for the field yet.” He adds. Marinette groans.

“How’d you figure out it was me?” She asks, pouting even though he can’t see her mouth. Seriously, how? She hadn’t even said anything.

“It was a combination of your body language and-”

“Oh, come on B, it definitely wasn’t that.” She complains. She knew better than to call him ‘dad’ while they were masked. It definitely wouldn’t end well.

“If you truly wanted to remain anonymous, you should have covered your eyes.” He says, a small smile playing on his lips. She frowns.

“My eyes? Why my eyes? I thought the bottom half of my face would be more easily identified.” Marinette says, glancing between her bonus mom, Harley, and her dad. How were her eyes so telling?

“Because they look just like your grandmother’s.” He says softly, making her heart clench. Her dad rarely ever talked about her grandparents. It was even more rare for him to talk about how much she resembled his mother. It’d been said in passing by other people in Gotham, and Alfred had made sure she had plenty of pictures to look at of the woman- but this was different, somehow. She grins, and she knows her eyes crinkle enough for everyone else to know she’s smiling.

“Really?” She asks, her voice quiet. He smiles, a weird face to see with the cowl, and nods.

“Yes.” He clears his throat, his face falling back into a stern look. “Just remember to cover your eyes next time you want to make an alter ego that I won’t figure out.” He says. She snorts.

“Sure thing, B.” She smiles, coming to a startling realization. She was standing next to her dad, who was in costume, while she was also in costume. And they were out in Gotham. For the first time since the incident. And, surprisingly, her chest didn’t tighten, the panic didn’t overwhelm her. Surprisingly, she could breathe.

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial @unoriginalmess @maribat-platonic-november

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one-boring-person · 3 years ago

Note

Hey again! I know I just asked for one and I don’t wanna be bothersome, but I saw that Raymond Tango is on your list and I was hoping I could get an imagine with him and maybe Gabriel Cash as well?

Something like the reader works at the prison where they end up and helps them out when they’re jumped? Or whatever scenario you can think of 😁 Please add a lot of flirting if you can

I actually watched Tango and Cash and the Expendables because of your imagines 😆 And I’ll probably keep discovering more awesome movies thanks to you!

I also had an idea for Rambo where the fireworks on the 4th of July trigger his ptsd and the reader is there to comfort him? (It was Canada Day today so there were fireworks in my hometown to celebrate and I got the idea for it 🤷🏼‍♀️)

Thank you so very much!!! 💕

I'm really sorry for the wait, but I hope you like this!😊❤

Tip-Off.

Ray Tango x reader x Gabe Cash (Tango and Cash)

Warnings: injury, swearing, mention of violence, mention of gun use

Masterlist

Finally, I manage to fling the door open, the thick metal clanging loudly as it slams against the wall, announcing my arrival to the room behind it. Gritting my teeth, I crash through it, yelling out to the inmates I know are gathered there, my standard handgun held at the ready. I hate to use it, but I know very well that many of the people turning to face me won't move unless threatened by something a little more dangerous.

The room is lit with a drab light, keeping most of the thugs' faces cast in shadow as they turn towards me, shouts of surprise and panic filling the air. As if startled by a ghost, the lot of them suddenly retreat into the darkness, doors banging open and shut around the perimeter, many of them cursing loudly as they clear out. Frowning, I move further into the room, shouting at them hoarsely, my head rotating quickly to make sure I'm not being ambushed by any of them. Thankfully or not, they disappear quickly, leaving me alone in the deserted area with two familiar people hanging by their necks from the ceiling above large troughs of water. Upon closer inspection, I notice that the water is electrified, a sparking cable lying a metre or so away.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?! Don't just leave us hanging here, kill us or let us down! You shitbrains!" I groan in realisation as I notice exactly who is hanging from the ceiling, the two captives facing away from me.

"Are those my only options, or would you rather I tried to get you down?" I call out to the only one of them who is actually moving, walking round to face them.

"Huh? Who're you?" It's Raymond Tango, the one still writhing on his hook. His partner, Gabriel Cash, hangs listlessly, head drooped, blood dripping from his lip.

"The reason you're still alive." I frown, tapping Cash's foot.

"Oh, it's you. Feel like helping me down?" Ray stares at me, fear still bright in his eyes as he shifts in his bindings.

"Don't sound too grateful. I just saved your ass." I roll my eyes, but move to start helping him.

Going closer, I ignore the dark-haired man's expectant expression, bowing so that I can heave the troughs of water out of the way, first. It isn't easy: the containers weigh tonnes, their contents sloshing all over the place as I brace my shoulder against the battered steel, muscles straining to dislodge them. A grating screech sounds from the base of the troughs as they rasp along the hard ground, but I eventually manage to get them clear, panting by the time they're significantly out of the way.

"Ok, this is probably gonna hurt a bit." I warn Ray, before going over to the knots at the end of the ropes holding them up.

"What is- argh!" The detective yelps in surprise as he drops unceremoniously from the ceiling, landing with a thud on the cold stone floor.

I leave Gabe's line for now, going over to help Ray up as he rolls onto his side, groaning in pain. Untying him, I check him over for any particularly bad wounds.

"Couldn't you have done that a little less painfully?" Ray grumbles as he moves to sit upright, wiping away blood from his nose, groaning.

"Sorry, next time I'll bring a mattress." I roll my eyes again, "You'll live. Now help me with Cash."

"Can't we just leave him there? He makes quite a nice light fixture." Ray jokes dryly, climbing wearily to his feet.

Shooting him a pointed look, I try to ignore the small spike in my pulse as I regard the dishevelled detective, not for the first time admiring his chiselled good-looks. Swallowing down the idle thoughts, I move back to the end of Gabe's line.

"Catch him, will you?" I tell Ray, loosening the knot, Cash's limp body dropping ever so slightly as I do so.

"The lump'll crush me!" He complains, but goes to stand underneath him anyway, reaching up to brace Cash's thighs with a grimace.

"You know, your jibes would have much more effect if he were awake." I smile wryly.

Ray doesn't say anything, but sends me a quick smirk anyway, knowing I'm right.

Turning away, I untie the knot completely, looking back to see Cash fall onto Tango, his torso rocking precariously as the latter struggles to hold him up. Rushing over, I reach out, arms outstretched as the two start to fall, Gabe landing heavily in my grip, throwing us all to the floor. We land heavily, a dull pain erupting in my back from the impact.

Winded, I lie there, Gabe on my chest, Ray on his rival's stomach, breathing heavily as we try to recover. Against me, Gabe shifts slightly, moaning in his unconsciousness, making me force myself to sit upright, his head now in my lap, Ray still trying to catch his breath on his back. Looking down at the man on my thighs, I brush aside some hair from his face, swiping away a little blood from his lip, glancing up to see Ray staring at me, jaw tight. Confused, I go to say something, my brow cocked, only to stop when a pained voice trickles up from between us.

"This isn't what I expected from the afterlife." Gabe murmurs, eyes barely open as he gazes up at me, licking his dry lips.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Cash." Ray jumps in, pushing himself back up.

Frowning, Gabe lifts his head, opening his mouth to speak, before closing it again, the sharp response clearly struggling to materialise.

"Come on, let's get you untied." I chuckle, moving to shift out from under the detective in my lap.

Gabe groans, whining as I roll him over, Tango reaching over to loosen the knots of his ties. Once free, he lazily tries to return to his original position, only to complain when he finds out I've moved. Now standing, I look down at the two with a fading smile, quickly becoming serious as I think back over the gravity of the situation. The two notice, joining me in standing, Gabe rapidly adjusting his clothes as Ray wipes blood from his lip.

"Whoever set you guys up has a serious problem with you two." I muse, scratching my chin in consternation.

"Wait, you believe us?" Ray sounds surprised, his rival regarding me with a similar expression.

"About what?"

"The setup."

Glancing at him, I tilt my head.

"Yeah, of course. What, you thought I was one of the bribed guards? After all the tip-offs I gave you both?" I shake my head in exasperation.

"Pretty dumb, if you ask me, Tango." Cash comments, smirking as he runs a hand through his hair, betraying his nerves.

"And who didn't listen to the tip-offs?" I tease him, grinning as Ray sends him a pointed look.

"Hey, I've had a lot on my mind!" Gabe protests, before he conspiratorially rakes his gaze over me, "A certain someone in particular."

Blushing, I wave him off, muttering a quick "behave" before gesturing for the two detectives to follow after me.

"You're disgusting, you know that?" Ray hisses to Gabe as they limp along behind me, a scoff following this as we reach the door I came through.

"And you think you're better? Come on, man, I've seen you staring at her when she does her rounds. Your cellmate practically has to wipe the drool from your chin."

"I'm not deaf, you know." I sigh, leading them into a side room, where a desk and few chairs have been pushed to the wall, a couple of pieces of equipment sat neatly where I left them.

The two men enter behind me, frowning at the sight of the small room, confused by its purpose. Naturally, Gabe is quick to recover and goes straight to one of the chairs, sitting down and leaning back in it, head tilted back so that his mane of golden hair falls down between his shoulder blades. Ray eyes him disdainfully, only to take a seat near him, running a hand through his own hair, muscular arms flexing as he does so. It's a struggle for me to keep my eyes averted from them both as I go to the table in the centre and take out my first aid kit, opening it to check inside.

"Ok, who's first?" I finally look up at them both, my cheeks warming up as I am met with two intense stares, neither looking away as I make eye contact.

"I'll go!" Gabe interrupts Ray before he can speak, hopping up and coming over to me, leeching on the table with a grin.

Shaking my head, I take some gauze and start to clean out the worst wounds he received, which I soon find are not particularly bad, so I move to check that he's not concussed at all. Removing a small penlight from my keys, I hold it up to his face, placing a finger under his chin to level his head properly.

"Ok, stare straight ahead." I tell him, not quite realising why he's smirking until I realise that he's decided to stare straight at me, blue eyes fixed on mine. Shaking my head, I once more ignore the blush on my cheeks as I check if his eyes are dilating properly, quickly moving to check his response as I move my hand in front of his face. Thankfully he seems to be ok, everything working as it should be.

"All done." I tell him, placing the penlight down on the desk beside him, glancing back up in time to see him leaning in. Surprised, I have no time to react before he's pressed a quick kiss to my cheek, the blonde smirking as he hops off the bench, eyes glittering mischievously.

Ray makes a sound of disapproval, glaring at Gabe as his rival steps past, muscles tensed up as he tries to fight back the (very) obvious jealousy. Quickly, he takes Cash's place on the table, looking at me gratefully as I start cleaning up the wound on his head. His dark eyes don't leave mine the entire time, unnerving me a little.

"So what do we do now?" He eventually asks, voice low as I stand close to him to make sure the cut is properly dressed.

"You guys need to get out of here." I muse, chewing my lip as I work, "It's just how we're gonna do it that's difficult."

"We?" Gabe sounds hopeful, though I can hear a little jealousy in his tone. This confuses me, until I realise why: Ray has gently placed a hand on either side of my waist, most likely under the pretense that he needs a hold to ground himself.

"Y-Yeah, we. I don't think you two will make it out without help." I tell him, calming my nerves as my pulse picks up, swiping the gauze over Ray's head once more before taking up the penlight again.

"And you're offering? Won't that lose you your job?" Ray questions, surprised at what I've said.

I sigh, standing back upright once I've checked his eyes.

"If I get caught, yeah, it will. At least it'll be for good reason." I shrug, stepping back out of Ray's grip, somewhat reluctantly.

Taking advantage of this, Gabe steps closer, placing a reassuring hand on my lower back. Unused to this kind of affection, I look up at him, expression somewhat blank as he speaks.

"You're sure about that?" He queries, searching my face for hesitation.

"Yeah, I am. What happened to you two wasn't fair, so I think it's good if you get your revenge." I nod firmly, glancing back at Ray, who smiles at me, "Look, I'll come up with a plan as soon as I can. For now, you two need to try and stay alive."

"Easier said than done." Ray murmurs, but agrees nonetheless.

"For you, we will." Gabe teases, tapping my chin with a grin.

#tango and cash #Ray Tango #Raymond Tango #Ray Tango x reader #Gabe Cash #Gabriel cash #Gabe Cash x reader #Sylvester Stallone #Kurt Russell #break writes #Ray Tango x reader x Gabe Cash

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kyunisixx · 3 years ago

Text

chiaroscuro

artist!Robert Plant AU one shot.

a/n: this really started out as a song I wanted to write. But I knew I had to turn it into a longer writing!!

themes: fluff, mild implications of nsfw and tw: childhood trauma.

summary: in which Y/N becomes a muse for Robert, a landscape artist in more ways than one. (Man, that summary is so shit but let's roll with it)

pairing: artist!Robert Plant x fem!reader

chi·a·ro·scu·ro

the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting.

an effect of contrasted light and shadow created by light falling unevenly or from a particular direction on something.

"Lean back for me a bit more, darling. That's right, relax."

As she moves, the old sofa creaks beneath her. Chilled air gusts through a partially opened window, making her shiver and sending miniscule bumps all over her bare skin. Her eyes drift over the fixtures inside the cozy cabin, illuminated by an outmoded oil lamp situated on the man's table. Several tiny moths were floating around it as the flame wavered ever so slightly from the breeze.

Scattered were all paintbrushes and smudges of paint were messily smeared all over the table. A round board was placed so close at the edge (one she heard him call before —a palette). In the middle is a rustic cup with half-empty, now cold tea. But a paint-smudged hand grasped on its handle and swiftly brought it over to a mouth.

Then her eyes met his.

His frizzled, curly blond locks are pulled into a disheveled bun. One he pinned up so carelessly with a thin, unused paintbrush as to prevent it from obstructing his view but a few ringlets managed to escape and are now framing his face.

Ivory-colored shirt, a few buttons undone to reveal smooth skin of his collarbones which were also marked with a few shades of paint. Some scattered across his jawline to his cheek.

Lips are pursed and eyes are pulled into deep concentration, they are set into a particular part of her. As if to capture the exact curvature of the crease on her waist.

Salient was the cleft on his chin and the sharp edge of his cheekbones by the incandescent light lent by the lamp, making him look like a contrast between sinister and elegance.

He dipped a brush and carefully made short strokes on the canvas, pausing every now and then to look at her.

The sun was setting and the sky was shaded a dull gray, providing so little of brightness which seemed to have darkened even more being situated in a lush forest.

Many months ago at this time of the day, she would have just been getting up from her sleep. Wake up and get ready for a long shift. It was a routine she had gotten so used to every day.

Take a bath. Eat. Pick out an outfit. Put on makeup. Be into the persona.

She would become a completely different person as soon as she stepped into the establishment she knew for as long as she moved into the town a few months ago.

From having to move into different cities and using different names to hide her identity. All of it to escape the filthy and haunted ghost of her past.

Screaming. Glass breaking. Bruises. Slamming doors. All of the things a child shouldn't have to go through. She took a risk and ran away from it.

And here is where she ended up thirteen years later.

Lacklustre eyes unmoving as they steadily stared back at her in a blurry mirror inside the changing room. All the girls' chattering seemed to have been muted and faded in the background as she gazed at her reflection. She picked up the small item in her hand, before taking the cap off and swiped the crimson lipstick across her chapped lips, creating a thick shade.

"Y/N, you ready to go?"

She turned her head back to Don, the club manager. She smiled and moved her head in a single nod.

“Sure, Don. Just give me a short moment”. She adjusted the strap of her black velvet dress and walked on the familiar, dimly lit hallway. Her stilettos clapped quietly on the floor as she padded and stopped in front of a red curtain covering the doorway from the side to the stage.

"How's it going, folks? Alright, alright. I'd get right into it. This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The crowd favourite, slithers like a python, mistress of the night; Marilyn"

Then, she waited as the main lights switched off and took her cue to enter as smoke filled the platform. Coloured lights gleamed right through. She situated herself right in the middle then circled her hand on the pole as the first note of the song started to hum quietly. Like a distant patter of rain—calm before the storm. Her hips moved into the rhythm and fluidly sneaked around the pole as the cloud of smoke started to clear out. Gazing into the crowd of men, her blood-red lips quirk into a smirk.

It was the only time she knew she had complete power and control. And she relished it, savoring the potency.

Her hands smoothed all over her now slightly perspired skin as men clamored and hooted for her. Bills were haphazardly thrown into the dancefloor. Something that she wasn't used to when she first started, it made her feel cheap. Dirty. But her routine carried on almost every night, she eventually got used to it and had even grown to like it.

Then she spotted him.

Big ball of golden hair illuminated by stage lights. He was situated amongst the sea of predators, his eyes followed the fluidity of her movements. But what struck her the most was the way he was watching her. It wasn't shadowed by lust, but more of an intense wonder and curiosity. It was as if he was memorizing each part of her curves, but for another purpose.

Her gaze somewhat mirrored his. He definitely wasn't strange-looking. Hell, he might have been the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He didn't belong to a place where no good men wander around. Both his beguiling beauty and aura was completely out of place for such a place like this.

The song then came to a stop. Her number was over but her eyes remained locked with his. It was only then she came back to consciousness as Don's voice boomed into the large speakers, signalling the end of her performance. She collected the bills scattered on the floor and walked off the stage, throwing a last glance into the crowd as she took her exit.

He was gone.

He wouldn't show up for a couple of days. She was sure, of course. The moment she steps out, her eyes would already be skimming through the lounge, and would sigh in disappointment if she didn't spot any sign of him.

"Have you seen your mysterious man yet?"

One of the girls she was closest to, Hershey, asked as she counted the thick block of bills on her hand.

"He wasn't out there tonight"

"You could have been hallucinating. Anyway, you told me he was 'like an angel'"

Hershey laughed, mimicking the way she had said the last part with a breathy tone and added, "Or could have been disappointed in your dance number, ran away and swore to not step a foot into this place again"

She stopped momentarily, chuckled lightly and sighed, "You may not be far from the truth but we'll see."

Then he would be there the next night, positioned right at a table at the back. His curly locks gave his identity right away, with his elbows propped up and fingers poised against his chin, bearing the same gaze.

Later that night, he'd be waiting right outside of the club.

"The show was spectacular."

She tilted her head to him, nodded and smiled.

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure how it ended up with her sitting on a stool inside a cozy 24-hour operating diner so late at night, chatting with her "mysterious man" late at night, who introduced himself as Robert. He was apparently a landscape artist and has traveled the world where he finds inspirations for his works.

"The best place I have ever been to? Hm. I'd say Machu Picchu, set in the high mountains of Andes in Peru, above a river called Urubamba. I had to hike all the way up, and you could see the breathtaking view when you reach the top."

"That does sound very lovely." She sighed wistfully.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere outside the country?"

"Oh no, I have not. I move to different places a lot but I've never gone out, never had the chance to."

"Ah, you should! It's wonderful."

She nodded, "Do you only do landscaping?"

"Well, no. I do a little bit of abstract art but I focus mainly on landscaping. I was thinking of expanding more, though. Maybe portrait, or nude art."

"That's a good idea. An artist has to come out of his comfort zone and be able to become great."

"Yeah…", he trailed off, as if lost in thought. "I hope this doesn't come off as strange or I as a creep. But may I ask you to be my muse? Don't worry! We'll only do portrait." He added the last sentence quickly.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her brows furrowed deep in thought.

"You don't have to s—"

"I'll do it."

A few days later, she was again popped up on a stool inside his flat just a few blocks away from the club. His place was spacious, but had a very rustic feel to the interior design. A few souvenirs from different countries were neatly placed on a shelf and most of his paintings were hung stylistically on the walls (in which she stared at in complete awe for what she could tell an hour each painting until he had to drag her away to his studio)

Her fingers fiddled as she tried to stay still under his calculating gaze. She never had much problem with how she looked and never had insecurities. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to be insecure. But at that moment, she thought of how she must've appeared to him and if she was good-looking enough to be an inspiration for his art.

"Are you alright there?"

"Yes! Yes, I… Yeah I'm alright."

His hand stopped and placed the paintbrush on the table. "Are you sure? If you're not comfortable or if you need a break, we could stop for a bit."

She shook her head vigorously, "No, it's okay. Don't worry."

"If you say so."

She let her eyes travel from his bare foot, to his khaki trousers, to his satin shirt with top three buttons undone, to his face. Oh, his gorgeous face. It was pulled into a deep concentration as he stared at his work, giving her some time to study his majestic features.

His eyes flickered to hers as if sensing her stare and playfully frowned, a small smile curled on the side of his lips.

"What?"

He laughed, "You were staring."

"I was. Is it a crime?"

"No, I wouldn't say it is." He said with a teasing edge to his voice.

It was their arrangement which they stick to a few times a week. On her day off, after work if she wasn't feeling too exhausted. There was an obvious attraction lingering inside the room of his small studio but none of them acted upon it other than just casual flirtations thrown around. He was a perfect gentleman and had always been accommodating. A couple of times he would insist on paying her in which she would always refuse to accept.

"The tea you make for me is enough for a payment." She had jokingly said. "Do not worry about it, Robert. Really, it's okay. I'm making enough from my job."

One night, after their sessions, they had too many drinks and bottles were littered over the table along with his paint brushes which had long dried of paint.

"Tell me about you, Marilyn. Mistress of the night, who apparently, slithers like a python." He mused, mentioning her alias. His glossy eyes filled with mirth.

She snorted, took a long swig of beer and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

"Marilyn is… Nobody. I'm nobody. I came from somewhere that in my mind, ceased to exist." She stared ahead. "I ran away from home. Who calls it a home anyway?" She laughed humorlessly.

"My parents fought a lot. They spent so much time fighting, they didn't even have time for me. Looking back at it now, I could have just preferred that. But then, they turned their anger towards me." She sniffed and quickly wiped the salty tears before they even slid down to her flushed cheeks.

"I went to my grandparents. They loved me so much and I loved them so dearly. But they were not my parents. Eventually, both of them passed away and I was left on my own. But I was eighteen. I didn't have to go back to my parents. So I went to different cities, finding places where I could feel like I could fit in. Looked for jobs, and then I ended up here. I made friends and I have my own place, but it still never felt like home."

He was quietly staring at her, and the silence was deafening. Then he lifted his free hand to her face and ran the back of his index finger to dry her cheeks. Her hand caught his and brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss.

"But with you, it feels… different. I like hanging out with you. I like being with you. You feel like home to me, Robert."

Her voice echoed softly as he took his time to reply. But he didn't, instead, he leaned down and sealed his lips against hers.

He layed limply on top of her body as he shuddered from his release. Both tried to desperately catch for their breath as her hand smoothed down his back and the other combed through his damp locks. He slid out of her and dropped beside her, not too long before he enclosed his arms over her and pulled closer. He catches her lips on his in a lazy kiss and smiled.

"You feel like home to me too, Y/N."

Her heart soared and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I want to paint you like this. May I? You are so beautiful. In light and in shadow."

She blushed, "Yes, but right now? I'm tired."

"No, no. We'll do it tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere." His warm breath hit her skin as he whispered.

"Where?" She whispered back.

"Well, I'm not telling you that. But it was what I helped my Father build when I was younger. It's somewhat like a special place for me, and I want you to see it."

He gazed at her as he waited for her to respond.

"Okay."

Under the light of the lamp, she peers at him under her lashes.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Mm? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know what it is. Cut it out or I'll never get to finish this."

She huffs. "You're no fun"

"I can prove you otherwise in a few minutes."

He continued to do his finishing touches and leaned back to admire his work.

"That isn't too bad. But nothing compares to the real art."

"And what might that be?"

"You, my love." He stood up, walked over to where she was, placed his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her to him.

"I've been waiting for this for hours."

"I've been giving you hints and you insist on finishing your art."

He chuckled. "Of course I had to."

His fingers danced their way from her sides to her hips, rubbing along the marks littered across her skin.

"Are you ready to see it?" He murmured against her neck. She shudders as she nodded, giving their playful banter a break.

He bit her earlobe softly, "Okay."

He walked over to his canvas and carefully turned it around to face her.

She gasps.

⭐ writings list ⭐

taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @princesspagey , @ritacaroline , @jimmys-zeppelin , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby (if you wanted to be added in, let me know 🤘🏻🤗)

#robert plant x reader #robert plant #led zeppelin #fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin imagines #john paul jones #john bonham #jimmy page #fluff #cabincore #rustic #artist!au

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hpalways · 4 years ago

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Yaksha’s Destiny || Xiao

DARKNESS was the biggest fear held by fellow Yakshas. This power bestowed upon you and many alike gave an opening to the pitting shadows that raged within your chambers. Some days, it wasn't as bad -- other days... it felt like you were getting ripped apart into shreds, taking in all your willpower to battle against it. It was tempting, to give in and call it quits. Life for a Yaksha wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. There were always too many demons and not enough heroes. Especially for a weaker one like you, anger and frustration would stem from these battles, only to eat at you later on.

Today was one of those days. The sky was a stormy sea of clouds, with the Gods crying from the heaven above. Droplets prickled down your bare skin, cold to the touch. While in the mountainside, you had stumbled upon demonic energy, so there was no choice but to finish them off.

Dodging the monster that lunged at you, you took out your polearm. The hydro vision on your hip gleamed brightly in the setting. Taking a turn, you could feel power surge to your arms. As you were about to jab your weapon into the demon's abdomen, they had ducked in time. Shit. You had underestimated this one.

Its body rammed into you, knocking you off your feet. Air left your system, causing you to groan in pain. Just as it was about to sink its teeth into your arm, you rolled over on one side and jumped back to your feet. Fingers clenching tightly around the metal stick, you pushed your hind legs and tried to stab at it another time. Your speed and reaction time was too slow. Too damn slow. Too damn weak. Gritting your teeth, you began to use up more of Yaksha's power, drinking the exhilarating taste of freedom. It was so addicting... often times, you'd wished it'd never stop.

A burst of water shrouded from the weapon, circling the demon until it was surrounded. With one, clean fell swoop, you sliced the demon and the energy faded away. The deed was done.

Falling to your knees, your entire body was shaking. Face contorted and in pain, nails dug into the earth to feel wet mud. Your body would not move -- it could not. Stilling there as if you had just been paralyzed, hungering thoughts plagued your mind... Thoughts you wished weren't yours. Letting out a disgusting whimper, similar to that of a wounded animal, you bit down on your lip, hard. Blood dribbled down your chin, painting the grass in crimson. Tugging at your mask, you stared at it for a moment. A sigh let out.

That was a close one. Crashing to the ground, your chest heaved up and down in exhaustion.

A figure suddenly entered your peripheral vision. Climbing up to the ridge of the mountain was Xiao, his dark teal locks blowing along with the harsh winds. Donned in his usual robes, he was as attractive as ever. The first time you stumbled upon him -- one of the famous five -- you nearly forgot to breathe. You had referred to him as Alatus then, starstrucked by such a powerful being.

You would never not awed by him. The way he held himself would always come to remind you of the big gap in strength between the two of you. Maybe you did establish a relationship with this all-mighty Yaksha, but this inferiority complex was tugging your strings more than you'd like to admit.

At the same time, he provided you the distraction needed. He kept you grounded, which prevented you from going mad. He was the only one who made you feel human, if that was even possible.

Golden amber hues landed on you, withholding an unreadable expression. He walked up to your beaten up form and sat down, unbothered by the rain. Struggling to get yourself into a sitting position, you looked out at the view in front.

"You used up too much of your power again," he murmured.

"Do you think I don't know that? I had no choice," you sighed.

His sharp eyes narrowed further. "You were being careless."

"It happened. There's nothing I can do to change it." His anger barely dwindled and the scowl only deepened. "Come on, Xiao. I don't want to talk about my mistakes when I'm with you. Busy as we are, I barely get to see you as of late. Can't we just enjoy our brief time together?"

That got him. His eyes softened at your words and he reluctantly nodded in agreement. Seizing the victory, you laid your head on his shoulder, feeling warmth even upon this cold weather. The rain was starting to let down too -- perhaps Xiao was the lucky charm.

"What have you been up to?" you inquired.

"Demons. Monsters. The usual," he responded. His cheeks tinged with a soft pink all of a sudden. "I... I also got you something."

Your ears perked up at the sound of this. Lifting your head, you watched him in curiosity. He took something out from his robe pockets and slowly opened his palm. Laying there was a blue, glowing object. Shaped as a butterfly, it was gorgeous. You had never seen this kind of butterfly around these parts. He must have traveled far to have found it.

"It's a crystalfly," he mumbled, averting his eyes in embarrassment. Your heart raced at his actions. He was too cute. Before meeting him, you could have never imagined the Vigilant Yaksha to possess such qualities. "I saw it and... thought it would look good in your hair."

"Oh, I love it. Thank you," you whispered breathlessly, touched beyond words. This was exactly what you meant with how Xiao could easily brush your problems away with a smile.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed his lips. They were soft as petal leaves. He returned the gesture immediately, arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. Digging your fingers into his hair, you kissed with a ferocity that was never present in your fights. This was to release the pain you dealt with today. As long Xiao was here, you were going to be okay. As long as he was by your side, you were going to be okay. This era of demons and gods will end someday, leaving you a happy future with him.

You tasted him. His lips. His mouth. His entire self. He tasted of mint. He tasted of life. He tasted of iron. The kind of metal tang found in blood. Sighs were exchanged upon each kiss, breathless but the two of you would not let the other go. Your lips trailed down to his jaw, peppering his baby-soft skin with a few nibbles here and there. He let out a gasp.

Finally you pulled away, giggling at his flustered state for your bold moves.

The end was nearing. He picked up the crystal fly and reached up to your [h/c] hair. While he gently pinned it down, you could only focus on his swollen lips. He was beautiful... and you loved him so.

"[Y/N]," he said, interrupting the honey silence of the mountains. "If you are ever in trouble, just call my name and I will come to you. In any circumstance, avoid overusing your power."

This bliss that left you giddy disappeared as quick as it came. All that remained was the harsh, cruel reality. Brows knitted together in offense and you quickly shook your head. "Why would I do that? I'm a Yaksha. What kind of Yaksha seeks help from another? This wounds my pride, Xiao. Is your faith in my skill and strength that low?"

"No. That's not it," he argued, features twisted in desperation. "Why won't you let me protect you?"

"Unbelievable," you merely scoffed, staggering up to stand. "I have to go. I'm sure you do too."

Ignoring his blubbering protests, you jumped down upon ledges until you reached ground level safely. He didn't understand what you had to go through. He never had to face judgement from those who didn't believe in you. Strong enough to battle the demons both externally and internally, Xiao was different from you. But even so... even if his words meant that he only cared for you, it hurt like you had been just stabbed.

You were willing to prove to him that you could stand on your own feet. He was going to eat his own words. So would the other Yakshas who looked down on you your entire life. If you trained hard enough, surely improvement could be gained. Right? It wasn't as if destiny could determine what you could accomplish already.

Approaching the forest that was said to contain many strong demons and monsters, you surged ahead, with eyes filled of challenge.

There, sitting in a nook was a cave, Sensing a suffocating presence, you knew you had hit a jackpot. Sneaking across the grassy lands, you stayed silent. The tall, towering trees were beginning to look a lot more ominous. Tiptoeing to the edge of the cave, you peered in to find the energy unbearably strong. One staggering breath later and you went forward. A roar let out, signaling that it knew of its intruder. Shoulders tensed up and sweat beaded your forehead, but you couldn't stop now. No matter what, you were going to go through with it.

It was a beast. Fangs gleamed in the darkness, nearly the size of your weapon. Having woken from its slumber, its terrifying eyes landed on you. Claws swiped the air, which you barely avoided in time. Fear had seized you with a hand, choking you until you could barely move. This was a terrible, foolish move. There was no way you could beat such a demon.

Calling in more power, it filled you up at the core. To waste no time, you delved right into battle, slashing at the monster. It had little to none effect on it. With a lazy swipe of its arm, it slammed you right into the cave's walls, causing you to spit out blood. Pushing yourself up, you tried again, putting in more power to your weapon. Adding hydro to the mix, the weapon hit its arms. It caused the monster to roar in pain, but that only made it more angry. Barreling straight to you, similar but much more frightening than the last demon, it pounced on you, pinning you down to the ground.

Drool left its mouth, splattering all over on your face. Its claws dug into your side and you let out a piercing scream. You were so fucking sick of this shit. Why was it destined that you had to stay weak? It was so unfair you wished to cry your heart out.

The last of the powers was used. Pushing the demon's hold on you, you stumbled up and felt thrill run through. It was delicious, but your mind was also beginning to grow hazy. "X-Xiao..." you uttered out.

The Conqueror of Demons arrived as soon as you called, anxious to apologize for his insensitivity. What he didn't expect to see was a battlefield. A large and strong demon was torn apart to pieces, the iron smell of it so strong, it was gagworthy. Sitting on the pile of bones was you, dark, gruesome scratches decorating your arms and legs. A deep gash was bleeding from your torso and your [e/c] eyes were dimmed; at the same time, they held a crazed look in them.

His face paled and his body grew cold at the sight. You did the thing he last wanted to happen. Already too far in and consumed by the darkness surrounding your whole life, you were looking at him not with love, but with bloodlust. "I'll kill you, Xiao!" you screamed at the top of your lungs.

Climbing down, you tried to run to him. But your footsteps halted and you crashed to the ground. Spazzing out as if you had just been electrocuted by lightning, the Vigilant Yaksha slowly approached you, tears streaming down the side of his face. He kneeled down, cradling your head in his lap. "Don't leave me..." He hit the ground in fury. "Dammit! Why didn't you listen to me!?"

Consciousness returned but you were on the brink of death. The wound was deep, but so were the demons. It was raining again, so you forced a small smile out. "I'm weak. It's my fate," you whispered. "At least I won't have to suffer through this darkness any longer. It's over. I quit. You won, my demons. I am yours to keep."

"Shut your mouth," he snarled. The rain had turned into a storm, adding fury into the mix. "Please. You can make it through this. Don't leave me yet. It was going to get better. An era with no more demons to haunt us. You said so yourself."

"That was just a stupid dream."

"Don't fucking say that," he growled, flinching as if he'd just been slapped. You were supposed to be the optimist here. It meant that this death was real... and that you would accept it with open arms. "It's going to happen. So hold on. Let me find someone to save you."

Your head shook and you winced. "We all learned this since young. We'll die if we let our power consume us. It's impossible and you know it."

"Stop," he choked out, lowering his head until his hair covered his broken expression. "Then don't talk. Save your breath."

You ignored his words. "Thank you... for the crystalfly. Does it look pretty on me?" you murmured.

He heaved out a sob and slowly nodded. "I've never seen anyone more beautiful."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"And I'm sorry."

"I am too."

"Protect... the people... like you always do, my sweet, Vigilant Yaksha." Your voice grew more raspy by the second, for the pain was getting unbearable.

You fluttered your eyes shut and the pain faded. On the other hand, Xiao's pain grew, the scars and trauma there to haunt him, for a life and infinity.

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years ago

Text

It’s The Avengers (03x16)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 16: You Picked the Wrong Weakness

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: did someone just go and tell the otp about the otp?

Word Count: you know that feeling when you have had a bad experience on some project or assignment or homework before. And you know that thing is going to come around again next month or something like that. And you just age yourself by giving yourself anxiety by thinking everything that could go worse in that area. Yeah. So, I kinda shut that off for a few hours and wrote this.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The Interview Room The camera is recording empty seats as a pair of voices grow louder with every second. "...it's like they don't even care about what the other person wants!" "...no, why would they. These rich daddies and their rich egos think they are the only ones thinking about the world." The camera swivels a bit to watch Peter and Scott enter with a new guest following them with a Caprisun in their hand. Peter: And why did you have to go ahead and help them? Shuri: *sits between Scott and Peter* *takes a long sip of her 'sun* What. I'm not going to give up any opportunity that involves space and weird energy boxes. Peter: Why did your brother even agree to it?? Shuri: *shrugs* all your sugar daddy had to say was 'what if it was Shuri'. And my thicc-head of a brother lost it like a rhino in a mating challenge. Peter: *scrunches his nose at the example* Scott: Great *sigh* now we'll never get to see them together. With your brains, those dads are probably already in space now. Shuri: Not so fast! They don't have the codes to neutralise the pandora's box yet. Peter and Scott: *look at each other* Shuri: So teleportation might be delayed as long as I am kept happy? Peter: *takes out a notebook* Scott: *takes out his phone and a card labelled Avengers Black Card* The camera pans in on a smirking Shuri sipping on her Capri sun.

Inside a Spaceship: Destination Unknown You and Loki were captured by the little drone flying at the same speed as the spaceship (which clearly had seen some remodelling, thanks to your rainbow buddies). Both of you were staring at something in front of you that lids by your waist level- something the outside drone was not able to capture because of the limited view in the spaceship window. The expressions on your face were serious. So was the arms-crossed stance. "Are you sure it wasn't just a noise?" Loki now had a finger on his lips in deep thought as he heard your words. "I am pretty sure of what I heard," he acknowledged without missing a beat. "So-" your voice faded as your fingers twirled in the air with a mind of their own- "that means he has...another..." "You really can't say it?" Loki looked at you with a questioning brow going up quite smoothly. You tsked. "It's my baby," you mentioned while Javier's camera watched you point down at slumbering Lulu. "I cannot just casually say he might have another hole and I think he farted through it. I cannot hurt my baby's feelings!" Loki scoffed. "Your baby's sleeping." "He still has ears." "You think he understands what a fart means?" "What do you think I've been teaching him when you, me or Javi pass the gas?" Loki's casual demeanour suddenly changed to an offended one. "I beg your pardon?" You were quick on your feet, already walking towards the front of the ship. "So, where exactly are we heading now? Aellae's next of kin? Though I find it hard to imagine she would have left your essence with anyone other than herself." Loki came and sat next to you, still pissed at that comment in those narrowed eyes. "I am going to circle back to your words-" he inhaled while you acted all innocent- "and no. We are not looking for anyone related to that witch." "Then are we looking for another one of your exes?" "No, we are n-" Loki stopped short, his lips right in a thin line as he stared at you. "Why are you so interested my exes?" You simply shrugged and raised your brows. "On the contrary, it seems your exes are still pretty interested in you." That casual expression turned into a familiar judgment as your head turned to look at him. "Though I wonder what did they find so-" you hands moved haphazardly- "interesting about you." Loki swivelled his captain seat towards you, locking your legs between his while grounding your armrests with his hands. Clicking the control button on your armrest, he moved your chair a bit closer to him, his face in close proximity to yours. Javier's camera panned in on the gulp moving down your throat while your eyelids did a flutter at this uncalled movement. The 4K caught those goosebumps rising right where his arm barely grazed yours and in the background, Lulu played an arousing violin piece. "Something you can only dream about, darling," he whispered. The violin picked up the charge in the air within its quick clean high notes. The only noise leaving you was the escape of the air stuck in your throat, shivering on its way out. "Of c-" you cleared your throat. trying to sit back up in your seat- "of course I can only fantasize. The reality makes me want to puck. Ugh!"

Loki: Y/N thinks space is all fun and games. What she does not realise is that just like earth, this universe too has an underworld. Ten times in size and twenty times as brutal. And Aellae was just the tip of the filthy iceberg. *camera zooms in on his tensed features* looks into the distance* Wonder who else she told about her. *looks back* *blinks* I'm taking her somewhere we can lie low for now. *rolls eyes* that is if she understands what lying low means. *sighs*

You: *eating bread like a peasant famished for days* Hm? What? No *shakes head* 'm nod nerbous. *takes another bite* debinidly nod becoz o doki. He wash jus playing wee me. *viciously bites into the bread* *growls and buries head in your lap*

"I am still telling you to ask for their help. It's not too late," you suggested in a composed manner, sitting in the co-pilot seat. "I am not calling seven alien boys just because you have a fetish for Korean pop bands." You thwacked his leg with yours. "I do not! And don't you dare talk shit about k-pop." Loki chuckled. "Why? What are going to do?" "I won't. But you know what k-pop fans are like, don't you?" The smile on Loki's face suddenly started to flicker away as he looked at the camera. "Remember that Vegas trip?" Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself on his seat, while you shared a devilish smirk with the camera. "We're going somewhere safe. Where I have a chance of getting my powers back and hopefully a gateway back to earth." You sat up. "Why didn't we go there in the first place?" Loki blinked, not really answering. You and the camera noticed the tension in his jaw. "It's not a place I like to talk about." The asteroid belt cleared in front of the spaceship to show the part of a planet covered in grey clouds shadowing frozen blue mountains and dark valleys. "Jotunheim," you whispered to yourself, letting the gloomy yet majestic scenery of the place reflect in your eyes. “Loki,” all humour in your voice seemed to dilute as you looked back at home, “we don’t have to go there. We-uh...we could go to one of Peter’s hideouts? Or maybe we could call the Boys and ask them to direct us to one of their safe places? You know, till we find a lead on your essence.” A smirk built upon the God's lips. "Is that concern I hear in your voice?" Those worry-laden brows suddenly dispersed all emotion to make way for anger. A slap made way from your hand to his right side of the back. The thwack was loud enough to wake Lulu and force a sincere 'ow' from the God's throat. "This concern is for me and my babies you awful animal," you growled, your voice considerably higher, "you think they'll survive there?"

Jotunheim If the mountains seemed to carry an eerie aura about them, the valleys were a straight suggestion of being pits straight to hell. To add to the effects of arriving at the gates of hell, the snow falling was harsh, to say the least. As soon as the door to the ship opened to let all the passengers feel the heat, the drone travelling outside took in travellers covered in thick fur. Javier carried Lulu on his front, both of them visible just with their faces- not to mention the former's blue eyes standing out over everything else in his surroundings. Loki too embraced the thick skin, looking quite the part of a Jotun till he picked up the hood of your coat to put it over your head without saying much; only smiling when you looked like a fluffed up birb in that Viking overcoat.

Loki: *smiling sheepishly**looks at you standing next to him* Angry birb *looks back at Javier's camera* Sam taught me that one. *camera pans at you simmering under that fur*

Lulu had already picked the background music for his pack's entrance. The Viking beat had just the right amount of weight and horror of the unknown in it as this place did. Just ahead of the pass lay the structure carved in the mountain itself. It could be called a palace or a temple. But that was not what sought your attention. Eyes. The camera caught eyes in the dark staring at the unwanted guests. Blue. Piercing. Murderous. And more than one pair. The drone panned in on that one subconscious movement of your fingers gripping the fur of the coat on Loki's back as the God walked gallantly- as if he owned the planet. But your eyes did not stop to observe the alien movement around you. "Remember-" Loki's whisper brought you out of the daze your own thumping heart was creating for you- "do not show them your fear. Show them that you are to be feared." It may have been his words or just his voice that started to melt the fear visible on your features, lasting for five seconds before a loud thump vibrated the land beneath your feet, making you all come to a stop. And when that was not enough, the audience saw the feet first, then the legs and then the whole length of a Jotun appearing before them. Some necks were really going to feel it tonight.

"Who dares enter the land of Jotunheim?" came the thundering and low growl from the Jotun that stood towering over you all. "The one who is alive and stands on this land," Loki announced, "with the blood of Laufey in my veins, I have come to claim what is mine." There was nothing but an uninviting smirk on the Jotun's face. "I am Loki, son of Laufey, son of Odin, ruler of Asgard and your King," he commanded with ice in his voice, "and you...need to bow...before your King." The dead silence proceeding his threat of a speech was enough for you nearly bury you inside your own overcoat. And when that did not seem enough, your body- on its own- moved a step closer to Loki's side. "Oooooh Gooood," you whispered with quite the shudder while your face was plastered with a no-fucks-given wave, "we're gonna die." On the contrary, the silence was followed by many Jotuns coming out of the shadows to surround your group one by one before bowing down. Even the ones who looked quite young did the same. All of them except for the one Jotun who had greeted you first. "Allir fagna konungi!" they chanted in unison. "All hail the king," Javier translated it for you. "Didn't know you were into Nords," you quipped, "the language, I mean." "Honey, I am all into Nords," he signed before looking around with a smile, finding a buff Jotun that caught his eye. He did not take another second to blink at him and leave that giant a bit confused and flustered at the same time.

Inside the Palace The throne was sculpted out of ice that seemed as old as the mountain. Alongside it had been made seating arrangements for the family, running parallel till the doors of the throne room, all greyish blue stones marked with Jotun carvings. You and Javier believed they might be names of dignitaries. Lulu thought they are just doodles by other babies and proceeded to contribute to the stone they were standing next to. A little female giant sat down and looked at Lulu's doodles with curious wide eyes. Loki stood rightfully in front of his throne, admiring it before turning to his subjects, most of them adults who were exceptionally taller and blue-er than him. The drone captured the magnificence of the throne room that had fire pits next to the seats at intervals right alongside the stone pillars and right in the middle, a few feet in front of the king. But none of them were lit. And the giants were visibly annoyed by the drone while the kids wanted to catch it and play with it. "An Asgardian announces himself as our King," the one giant growled as he stood at the steps of the throne, "why would we believe you to be our King, son of Odin." He nearly spat the last part. The drone captured that bit of concern breaking out on your composed features but Loki just smirked. Pulling his overcoat to the side- as magnificently as he believed himself to be- he sat down as if he has done it ever since he was born. The authority exuding from his presence certainly put the murmurs going around the hall to a standstill. "At ease, Helblindi," he stressed to the giant with a purr and directed the rest of the audience to take their place. "Not you." Everyone stopped short to looked at their king. And he was clearly looking at you. You pointed a finger at yourself in question. "Don't you know your place....pet?" he commanded ever so slyly, discreetly pointing his finger at the stone next to his throne.

You: *look around to make sure no one's looking at you* *anger about to explode through your eyes* *whispering* Pet?? PET?? I swear gonna just *gestures to grab the air* grab his throat and *punches the said air repeatedly in her palm* *camera pans out to focus on three baby giants looking at you in pure horror before their mother carries them away murmuring something* *camera swivels to show Javier looking disappointed* Javier: *signs* she said 'stay away from the crazy human'. *sighs* *shakes his head*

“Come-“ Loki’s fingers gestured at you to come over to that stone couch of a thing next to him- “sit.” Taking a breath to compose your usual embers of rage at that comment, you smiled and walked up the stairs to stand next to him. The camera recorded the little gracious bow you gave the God but not before your back was to the spectators and you signalled an insult with your middle towards him, nearly making him chuckle. And with one heavy inhale, you sat down next to him, clearly not at the same level as him. “Is this what Lulu feels like?” “I would’ve made Lulu sit in my lap,” Loki acknowledged with a smirk. “You’re welcome to join me anytime but for now-“ he adjusted himself on his seat and raised his voice to address the court- “let us have a feast tonight and raise our mugs in union of the Jotun king and his subjects.” Helblindi scoffed and spat on the floor. Loki did not look but he was surely observing his every move. “In union of an excuse of a giant who does not even resemble-“ “I would like you to stop there my brother-“ Loki announced as he got up, letting the whole room take one united gasp at the scene- “before you start regretting your own words.” You blinked at the reactions to turn and look at Loki. Now the lights from the ceiling did a stupendous job of catching the widening of your eyes while your pupils were dilated in an emotion only known to you when you witnessed- for the first time in your life- Loki's skin change its shade and features. The flawless paleness gave way to a blue so deep over those arms he rarely displayed in public. The colour ran up his neck as well, covering him all the way. And along with this shade came ridges on his skin which apparently every Jotun had; running up his face and down his limbs. Those smaragdines and whites around them were now replaced with red. “This Jotun-“ his voice was low, but with enough weight that it echoed to the last corner of the room- “has seen enough lives to know what is hatred and what is fear. So next time you try to question my right, Helblindi, know that I have no qualms in exploiting them in a way which seems necessary for me.” Helbindi did not seem to stand his ground much now. Not after a few Jotuns who stood up to speak against the giant who had been torturing them for a while with his reckless and greed-ridden laws. Javier's camera was stuck on your reaction in the middle of this mild chaos. Your parted lips, wide eyes, stare lingering all over the God's body, your throat feeling the urge to swallow the dryness; it really was a sight, an emotion that many fanfiction artists would want to take inspiration from. Loki- who was smirking at the warm welcome he was receiving through the roar against his brother- turned around to look at you. His smirk disappeared and his usually focused gaze was interrupted with those unsure blinks at your features. Before he could explain himself, one giantess blocked his way to you with a bow. "We have prepared the Bath for you and your companions, your grace," she announced, still with her head held low. His gaze was running between you and her. To make it easier for him, you got up from your seat and walked down to the giantess who wanted to show you, Javier and Lulu to the Bath. "Nandi," Loki finally looked at the giantess. "Yes, your grace." "I need you to choose four of your most loyal companions to guard them." "They are all ready to escort your companions where you please." Loki smiled at Nandi. "I owe it to your mother to protect you, your Grace, like she protected me and my children." "My mother had a loyal friend in you," the God appreciated before walking down the throne and away from the crowd. The drone followed him. The graceful composure of the God crumbled like a dry sand castle as soon as the doors closed behind him and he was alone in the icy corridors. His pace got faster by the second, his eyes searching everywhere. "This isn't fair, you know." Loki stopped at the echo of your voice. The pause of one breath, and he knew where to turn to find you standing in the shadows. Javier stood by the pillar next to you two with his camera, capturing this strange tick on Loki's features. You stepped out of the shadows, your gaze uninterrupted, looking right at those red eyes. "Do you know the amount of chaos it would create on earth if people knew that you look like..." "Like what? A monster?" Loki's voice was heavy. "Nah don't say i-dammit! Now I cannot stop imagining the term monsterfuckers." Loki blinked. His brows furrowed at you ever so slightly. "I mean-" you sighed with frustration- "was it not enough that you looked like a literal God in a human form that you had to now go and reveal that you are one buffed up alien? Look at you? You are one breath away from starting a cult of monsterfuckers! Do you realise that? Look at-" you grabbed that one barely naked blue arm and tried to squeeze it- "this firm, cold, arm that is people are going think about in-" you tried to breathe, your gaze still stuck on his shoulder- "their bed at night. God, why do have to be so-" you pointed at all of him with a frustration-filled, longing look of...disgust- "you." By now Loki was raising his brows in question and shifting his gaze between himself and you, clearly confused by your reaction. It even seemed he was a bit flustered at one point. You winced, looking at his body again. Your eyes followed the ridges on his face to his neck, plunging down his v neck t-shirt. With a frown you turned hastily, flinging your body involuntarily in the direction of the bath. "I bet they go all the way down," you whispered to yourself in between your sobs and walked away.

Loki: *still stands there* *blinks* *looks at the camera* what...*looks in her direction* *looks back* *does this two more times* what just happened?

The Resting Chambers: Next Day One of Javier's drones followed you from the balcony you were standing in to witness the first light of the nearest star in this frozen land. The snow-clad mountains were a majestic sight in their own stature. Even the smile emanating under the warmth of the star could not deny that. The giggles coming from inside the room broke the sweet hum of sync you were having with the weather, walking back in to find Skandi and Kolga, Nandi's daughters setting up the table with Jotunheim's specialities- snowberries, Kruweed- fresh seaweed from the frozen lake- and Lulu's favourite, spiked abalones. "What are you girls snickering about?" Lulu was already jumping on the table to sniff everything placed for his liking. Once he had inspected every single item, he went over to his bowl of abalones.

"Nothing," Skandi cooed, "just discussing how Loki-" Kolga elbowed her sister to correct herself- "how his Grace, keeps looking at you." Your hands paused for a fraction of a second near your mouth before the snowberry found its way in your mouth. "Look at me how?" "He looks at you as if you might vanish any second if he does not keep his eye on you," Kolga added, sitting down next to you. Her face had gentle tones all over it. Her eyes seemed to sparkle whenever she talked to you. "Are you being punished for something?" It took you some time to realise she was genuinely curious. "What. No. Why would you think that?" "Because his grace keeps you under guard. I thought pets were kept in cages in Midgard." Skandi turned to Kolga with a gasp. "He caged her last night then?!" The camera captured your furrowed brows sitting there confused in between the sisters. You opened your mouth to speak but lost to Kolga. "You mean when he told off Helbindi that she will be sleeping in his quarters." Skandi nodded vigorously. "He could not have kept her in a real cage." "Maybe he chained her to the bed." "Ah. So he could keep an eye on her at night." "Is that what happened, y/n?" You hid your face behind the mug of tea that did not seem to leave your lips while your free hand seemed to check your cheeks for their temperature. "This tea is good," your burned throat appreciated the drink. "He seems quite...what is the word... possessive of her," Skandi commented. You shared a look with the drone- your face devoid of any emotions. Kolga hummed in agreement, popping a snowberry in her mouth. "I thought Kruge would die last night by his hands." Now that seemed to catch your attention. "Kruge who?" "Helbindi's guard. The one who nearly pushed you into the wall last night." "When you went inside," Kolga continued, "his Grace took Kruge's staff and struck him in his limbs and threatened him to never touch you again if he wanted to stay alive." "Kruge should be glad he did not use his powers on him lest he would be a part of the dark pit's icicles by now." Kolga and Skandi stopped talked to watch you lost in deep thought while your hands scratched Lulu's back on their own, making the floof purr quite loud. "Is she making this little creature vibrate?" Skandi asked her sister in a whisper. "It looks like it," her sister whispered back in awe.

You: *whispering at Javier* What? No, it's okay. We can record here. No one can say anything. *sits on the stone seat in the gallery that seems empty to the camera* *adjusts hair* is it recording? Of course. It's always recording. *clears throat* *at normal tone* So, clearly...*inhales* *raises brows* things are barely standing still right now. And it is clearly not helping that Loki is having sudden urges to pick a fight with whoever bullies me. *Javier's drone catches him discreetly signing at you to lower your voice a bit* You: *irritated* I mean does he want me to get bullied more? Bullies are always going to pick on the weak one in the group for fuck's sake! And evidently, I am the weaker sex. *the camera catches a movement behind you, turning to focus on the source* You: and his highness does not seem to realise that it will be too easy for these giants to torture his weaknesses out of me. Does he not see that? *squints at Javier* what? The drone is recording Javier aggressively telling you to cut it out while looking pale as his gaze goes far behind you. You turn to look where his gaze is going. Javier's camera automatically focuses on Kruge standing next to the last pillar, throwing daggers in your direction through his bloody eyes for a moment before disappearing somewhere. You: *turn around with a shade lighter yourself* *the camera is panning over your face now as you look at it* *whispers* Fuck!

Five Minutes Later One of the drones buzzed against the ice that separated the balcony and the bedroom, tapping itself repeatedly on the transparent frost till the door to the room opened. It turned around to record you and Javier rush inside- the latter placing his camera in his bag and packing his stuff. "Okay, relax, relax!" you stressed to the hyperventilating boy. "We need to get out of here," he signed. "Javi, take three deep breaths? Yes? One? Two? Good. Three. Now think about it. As long as we are with Loki, no one will dare harm us. Okay? Not to mention he has allotted us our personal security team." Javier was on the verge of sobbing. "What about when Loki is not around. What will we do then?" "Javi, don't think like that," you nearly fumed at him. "Loki is in the throne room right now. You take the guards with you and go to him and when you find a window let him know what happened, okay?" Javier was still taking deep breaths while sweating through his fur coat. He nodded. "What about you?" "I...have Lulu." You pointed at the floof sleeping with his belly bared and his paws out. "I won't leave the room, don't worry." Once convinced you'll be fine, Javier hurried outside, leaving you in a silence only filled by light snores of your baby. The drone recorded you biting your lip and tying your hair up in a bun. "Okay," you whispered to yourself, "now we wait." It also recorded the sudden change in the shade of one section of the wall opposite to your back. With the focus still on you, the section of the wall appeared to open out, revealing the pitch blackness lit by a pair of red eyes. The next thing you knew, the drone was lying on the floor, its barely working lens recording your muffled screams and boots struggling to find the ground as a pair of blue feet walked past the lens before it went black.

One Hour Later The camera sat on the stone seat, recording the periodic tapping of Javier's foot from outside the frame. Loki still had audience. The Jotuns discussed every aspect of Jotunheim with the king. Loki sat patiently, listening to every word before advising them necessary steps. The majority was satisfied with the King's suggestions. Many were even in awe. There were a few who were dissatisfied no matter what the God mentioned. "Well-" Loki sat straight, addressing the whole court- "this concludes our day then." "Your grace," one giant bowed at the steps, "there are a few more issues that need your kind attention." Loki sighed, his hand resting on the armrest, his fingers running over his lips in thought. Not sure about Loki, but the camera recorded the patient that ran out of Javier. He got up from his seat, immediately catching the God's eye, who was quick to raise his fingers just for the boy to stop taking any further steps towards him. "You have stalled me enough," the God acknowledged, catching the giant off guard. "Helbindi should know it better than anyone that a coup against me would be a futile attempt." Loki did not budge where he sat, just his finger drumming on the arm rest. "And I am in no mood for a mutiny."

The one drone who had been playing with the Jotun kids picked up the damage to a drone in the resting chambers. It buzzed through the halls, trying to pick up your trail, finding corridors and corners to fly through, walking down dark pathways with no windows and steep stairs spiraling deep into the mountains. On its way it found Lulu howling and meowing in a frantic daze, walking down the same path where he found your scent. And it seemed like he found you through the same dark pathway that ultimately reached an opening. There was nothing but ice all around and in every form. A section of the mountain that opened to the outside with a catch. There were cells cut into this ice for prisoners. Shackles of cold metal rested in every cell. Each of them had metals bars to keep the captives in and an opening in the ice to keep any grain of warmth out. And to add to it all, this entire prison cell rested on a frost chunk hanging at the edge of the mountain. "Stop, please, you cannot do this!" Your voice and footsteps could be heard echoing through this section. The drone buzzed and landed on the wall to record the Kruge stripping you of your fur coat with a maniacal grin on his face. "Hey! HEY!! Give me back my coat!" Kruge stopped you from going for your coat by his hand coming for your throat. His grip made it hard for you to breathe as you struggled to get out of the hold, your nails trying their best to dig into that stubborn cold skin of his. Lulu ran and growled at the giant, scratching at his ankles till the latter kicked him away. "What do you want?" you barely managed to get out of your mouth. "We want Loki out of Jotunheim," he growled in your face, smacking your back in the ice wall behind you before letting go of your throat. You fell down with a thud and a groan, taking in as much air as your windpipe allowed. "Okay," you wheezed, "okay. You let me talk to Loki and I will convince him to leave Jotunheim. I promise. I pinky promise." You even raised your pinky. But Kruge was already closing the bars on you. Lulu ran and jumped through the bars to stop by your side, sniffing and crying, wanting to make sure you were okay. "No no no no," you crawled to the bars, trying to wrap your fingers around them but failing once your skin felt the vicious cold personally, "please don't do this. You have to stop. Now." "You said you know Loki's weakness," a voice boomed from the shadows where you had been dragged from. A very familiar and ominous voice. The drone turned to capture Helbindi stepping into the ice prison with a stature fit for kings. "His essence is lost. It is a secret no more, you quim." You looked at Lulu in confused defeat. "Why does it feel like he called me a whore?" you whispered. Lulu threw his own curses at the giant. "Listen, sir, Mr Helbindi," you began, "you want the throne, right? And I want to get out of here alive. How about I take Loki with me? You get back your kingly rights, I get my friends back and we go our separate ways. Everybody wins!" Helbindi came down on his knees in front of you. A smile rested on those cracked lips of his. His hand went past the bars- to your surprise- and landed on your cheeks. Your gaze kept shifting between his eyes and his hand while your body tried to move away from his hold. But he was one stubborn bastard. "He must have kept you alive for a reason." Helbindi was talking to himself now. His thumb rubbed against your skin, something that was visibly making you uncomfortable. "Ah...he keeps you to satisfy his nightly needs." You pushed yourself away from Helbindi, only to be forced into the bars by his hold around your skull; his chuckle resonating through the prison. "Do not worry my little whore," he whispered right in your ear while his icy breath ran over your skin, "you will be my pet soon. And unlike Loki-" he licked your cheek with his tongue, driving you mad with disgust- "I prefer violence even in my chambers." Your breaths were shallow. A single tear falling from your eyes as you did you best to maintain your features. "You are making a grave mistake," you whispered through your teeth. Lulu tried to claw at Helbindi too but Kruge was already kicking him away, earning a death stare from you. The giant struck his nail in your throat, driving it deep till there was blood. "The only mistake that was made was by you coming into my land. And you all will pay for it." Dropping you back into the snow, Helbindi got up and walked back into the darkness.

Loki watched the doors open to let Helbindi in, his gait ever so dominating as he walked past the judgmental eyes of every other giant in the court with his own little battalion following him, carrying weapons of all sorts. "A king with no powers has no right to sit on the throne, Laufeyson," Helbindi roared, ground his staff a few feet away from the stairs to the throne, creating a crack in the ground. "And a Jotun with Asgard in his blood has no right to stay alive in Jotunheim." Weapons were drawn at anyone who was not on Helbindi's side. Javier was already on his feet, running by Loki's side with his camera. Loki still had his mouth covered with his hand, as if in a tired trance. "Everybody out," he commanded ever so smoothly to his audience- who was hesitant at first, but left as soon as the God's eyes pierced through every last one of them. Left alone with his brother's radical followers, he sighed out loud, his fingers still drumming. Javier felt a buzz in his pocket, making him take out the little tablet he used to control his cameras. "Your actions with every passing moment make me more sure of your inability to rule over the subjects, brother mine," the God simply commented. The seriousness on Javier's face was turning into a field of fear. "Oh, I am not asking, brother mine," Helbindi snared at Loki, "I am taking what is mine." "And why would I give you anything you want." "Ask your little plaything," Helbindi smirked. The drumming of those pale fingers stopped. Silence eroded in the throne room. And slowly a shallow panting was audible from the God's side. The camera suddenly lost its balance and fell down on the armrest before toppling on the throne behind Loki, his back still in the frame. Light reflected through Javier's eyes, more precisely through his tears, as he moved the tablet towards Loki. "Stop, please, you cannot do this!" your voice echoed through the tablet, and all the lines on Loki's face disappeared. His body got up from the throne, his eyes still stuck on the device, looking at the aftermath of Helbindi's actions. There was no emotion on the God's face while he witnessed everything recorded on the drone. He did not even budge till the recording finished. Once the screen blacked out, he swerved the tablet for Javier to take back. His gaze was apparently still stuck on the black stones on the floor, his jaw threateningly sharp in whatever light coming from the nearest star. "If you want to see her alive again, go back to your ship before the star drops fro-," "You touched her." His voice was just a decibel higher than a whisper; his shoulders stiff. The silver bracelets were visible on his wrists, more so with the light reflecting from them. His pale fingers now turned into fists. "You hurt her." Nothing but the resonating crack of a metal reverberated through the hall and everything went black.

The drone sat over the bars, recording the visible shivering breaths coming out of you while your skin turned pale, your fingers blue and your hairs were already collecting frost over them, despite moving your legs as close as you possibly could to your body. "P-plea-hease," your voice shuddered, "s-s-stop hi-im. T-there is-s-s st-i-ill time." "Your master is quite possibly begging on his knees by now," Kruge cackled, gulping down the mead and pouring more from the barrel next to him. Lulu was trying his best to keep your warm with his little body, wrapping himself around your neck while whimpering for you. Kruge was about to finish another mug when his ears caught a snicker that slowly turned into a weak laughter. The drone recorded you chuckling through the pain of the blight. "What is so comedic," Kruge snarled at you. "You thought I was telling you to stop for Loki's sake?" you laughed a little more, making the Jotun simmer with building rage. "I was telling you to stop your master before it's too late, you sewage rat's tick." The lens panned in on your features, all those helpless tears replaced by a smirk that could put the devil to shame. "You master thinks I am Loki's weakness." Your eyes glistened with a tint of some hidden darkness inside them in contrast to all the white around you. "Because I made him think that, you buffoon." "He is nothing without his essen-" "Count your peaceful breaths, you son of a bitch," you stressed, never batting your eyelids, "because you are not going to die an easy death today." You smiled turned into a chuckle before your eyes turned heavy and you fell down. The drone- in its last few minutes- went dark, but not before recording Lulu's cried, mewls, howls that slowly turned into a blood curdling roar echoing till the end.

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garbria · 3 years ago

Note

For the sarcastic dialogue prompts, 9 for Cor? Or 4 for Nyx if that’s too on the nose.

9. “You’re supposed to be dead!” “Yeah, sorry about that.”

4. "Yay, I can't wait."

I actually managed to use both prompts! Hope you enjoy!

Cor grit his teeth as he dug for the bullet with his knife, grateful for the adrenaline to help focus him. He didn’t know how much time he had lost, but every minute spent here was more time for them to do who knows what to Nyx. He didn’t have time for this.

It was supposed to be just a normal date night. Nyx had been taking him the back way to his place, after a nice dinner at one of the local restaurants. But just as they had entered a narrow alley, Cor had seen movement at the other end and instinctively moved in front of Nyx. He had heard the pop of gunfire and felt sharp pain in his shoulder and side as he fell back into Nyx.

Nyx swore as a group of masked attackers poured in the alley. Cor tried to untangle himself from Nyx so they could fight, but the pain was making him slower than usual. There was another shot and pain in his side as Cor fell to his knees. Nyx called Cor’s name as he tried to put up a shield, but there were more shots from behind them. Cor heard Nyx grunt in pain and turned towards him, just in time to see someone come up behind Nyx and knock him out with a blow to the head. Cor tried to crawl to Nyx, but another attacker kicked Cor in the head. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was them carrying Nyx away.

Cor wasn’t sure how long he had been out. When he came to, the alley was empty, but he was still bleeding, so it couldn’t have been too long. Cor did a quick assessment of the damage. Two of the shots were through-and-throughs, but the third bullet was still in there. He had potions, but he couldn’t use any until the bullet was out. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to dig a bullet out himself, but it was never pleasant. And he needed to find Nyx. Now.

Cor took a deep breath to ride out the pain as he - finally - got the bullet. It made a sad little plunk as it dropped to the ground next to him. He pressed his bloody hand into his eyes as the world swam. Then he pulled a potion out of the armiger and cracked it over himself. He nearly gasped in relief as the pain receded and he felt his wounds seal closed. He considered using another one, but he wanted to save some for Nyx. He wasn't 100% yet, but he was plenty good enough to go retrieve his boyfriend.

He pushed himself up and stalked over in the direction he had seen them take Nyx. He snorted. They hadn’t even bothered to hide their tracks. He followed them to a warehouse in the next block. Cor took a deep breath to steady himself. He was starting to feel the effects of blood loss, even with the potion, so he knew he needed to finish this quickly.

There was one guard watching the entrance, but Cor wasn’t in the mood to play games. He snuck up in the guard’s blindspot and snapped his neck, dragging the body out of sight. He slipped inside, listening for movement. There wasn’t any in the dark hallway, but he heard conversation to the right. Cor moved that direction, keeping close to the wall.

Someone was saying something, maybe asking questions of Nyx, but Cor couldn’t make sense of it. He could feel himself fading, and knew he was on a time limit to get Nyx out of there. Cor stayed in the shadows as he rounded the corner. Nyx was tied to a chair, bleeding from his head and side, surrounded by three men. He looked barely conscious, as one of the men slapped Nyx across the face. Cor bared his teeth. How dare they touch Nyx.

Cor called his katana and in the same moment rushed out to run through first one, and then two of the attackers.

The last one, the one who had hit Nyx, stared in stock as the others dropped. “You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Cor smiled, all teeth. “But better men than you have tried and failed.” With that, Cor ran his katana through the man’s stomach. He twisted his sword, and growled, “You shouldn’t have touched Nyx.”

Cor pushed the body off of his sword, and turned to Nyx, cutting him free. He banished his katana back into the armiger to better examine Nyx.

“Cor?” Nyx blinked, but his eyes weren’t tracking properly.

“Yeah, Nyx, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Cor pulled Nyx to him, and allowed himself a moment of relief that Nyx was alive and conscious. “Let me check you out.”

Nyx had his own gunshot wound, and a probable concussion. Maybe some broken ribs, too, if the way he was holding himself was any indication.

Shit. Cor put his hand on Nyx’s cheek to try and meet his eyes. “Do you think you can walk?”

“To get the fuck out of here? You bet.” Nyx tried for a smile, but it didn’t quite work.

Cor put Nyx’s arm around his shoulder, and helped him stand. He grimaced as they wobbled a little. Neither of them were exactly in great shape at the moment. “We’re both going to end up spending the night at the hospital.”

Nyx’s lips twitched upward. “Yay, I can’t wait.”

Cor laughed, quietly. “Not exactly how I hoped the night would end.”

Nyx looked amused. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re together, at least.”

“True,” Cor said, and turned to brush a quick kiss against Nyx’s hair.

They made their way out to the main street, where Cor helped Nyx lean against a wall while he called Monica for an ambulance and a contingent of Crownsguard to clean up this mess. Ten minutes later, both he and Nyx were in the hands of paramedics on the way to Insomnia General. Dustin had control of the scene, and promised an update as soon as the investigation revealed anything. Cor reached over and held Nyx’s hand as they pulled into the hospital. Nyx had a point. Despite everything, at least they were together.

#awlwren #asks #cor leonis #nyx ulric #ffxv #my fic #canon typical violence #blood and violence #don't piss off cor #you wouldn't like him when he's angry #he's a protective boyfriend #not beta read

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i-cant-sing · 3 years ago

Text

Okay, Moon anon was able to contact me and I'm gonna post their chapters 3-6 here.

Daniel and YN 3 🌗🌗

Rainy days are crazy. Some of YN’s best and worst memories were on a rainy day. It was a rainy day when Daniel was born. His parents overjoyed when he decided to join the world early. The Sunny morning turned rainy when they saw something was wrong. The sky was so dark when the doctored explained that their baby didn’t get enough oxygen in the womb or when he came out. That his brain was impacted by the trauma. It took four years for Daniel’s mother to stop blaming herself, four years for her to understand that she couldn’t have known that something was wrong in her womb. Four years when they had their second child. It was a rainy day when YN and Daniel got lost. Holding each other’s hand, tightly they wandered the Kamino Ward. Hoping that their parents would be right down an alley or around the corner. That was a terrible 6th birthday for YN. The steps Daniel left in the dirt started to get deeper and more burnt. The boy slightly started to tremble. “Daniel.. it’s gonna be ok. Momma and Pop are going to find us we just have to-“ “Are you two lost?” A very tall man in a black suit asked. YN couldn’t remember his face, but his voice was eerily calm and smoothe. His head had snow white hair on it. A look at him would’ve left even the hero All Might scared. “ye…Yes. My brother and I can’t find our parents..” “Oh dear. Well I can help you. They couldn’t have gotten far.” He held his hand to Daniel. And he almost took it had YN not stepped in. “We’re not supposed to touch strangers.” “Oh yes, that’s a very good rule. Well my name is.. Shigaraki. Now what are yours?” “…yn.. and daniel..” “Now we aren’t strangers. Let’s get you two somewhere safe. Your brother’s quirk might level the neighborho-“ “YN! DANIEL!” The relieved voice of their father shouted out. And the two quickly turned away, toward his calls and open arms. Tears running down their faces, swearing to never wander off again. The day was saved. When YN went to turn to Mr Shigaraki to tell him it was fine, he had disappeared into the crowd. But one question lingered in her head. How did he know Daniel’s quirk could be dangerous? It was a sunny day at first when YN and Daniel went out to the park for their Day out. YN had already planned to tell her parents that she wanted to come back here for her 12th birthday in a few months. Daniel kept over-stimulating himself with every single thing that caught his eyes. The anthill, the trees, the way the wind carried the leaves, when he and YN jumped around over the hopscotch drawings. When the rain came down they didn’t want to leave. They wanted to splash in the wetness like a couple of ducks. But Momma was insistent it was time to go back to the apartment. Inside the car YN immediately put on her headphones to listen to nightcore covers of popular songs. It wasn’t until she noticed her mom’s terrified expression and felt her dad’s fear did she take them off. “-I DONT KNOW ITS NOT BREAKING!” “WE’RE GOING RIGHT INTO TRAFFIC! DO SOMETHING!” “..momma?..” “DANIEL! YN GET DOWN!” That was the last thing her mother said to her. The rain hit the car harder. Daniel was quick to cover his little sister as the car swerved towards a large truck. YN felt her brother shield over their bodies. The last thing she heard from her father was a yell. Before they crashed into the truck. Before YN and Daniel were flung out into the side of the road. Scratches beginning to litter their arms and cheeks. YN felt the rain on her face as she tried looking up. Tried finding her parents. It was a rainy day when the last image of her parents was the crushed front end of the car. 🌗🌗

Daniel and YN 4 🌗🌗

The incident at the cafe left a bigger mess then was intended. Of course the waitress didn’t say a word about who caused the mess, still terrified of the threat, but the manager still called the police. At the moment it was being investigated as a break in. It wasn’t until they started to bag the broken vases as evidence did they think to call a hero as they believed this was a terrorist villain trying to strike more fear. When the first cop touch the broken vases he immediately fell over and started seizing. Like someone had sent hundreds of volts up through his gloved fingers and into his blood stream. The second cop tried picking up the glass with prongs so that she wouldn’t get the same effect. But she still felt some pain and volts. Even the glass windows were giving off static. When they were examined no one could find a point of impact. It was almost like they spontaneously exploded. Worse and more confusing yet was the fact that the material seemed to give off radiation spikes. From a computer screen image, it was like a red glow was emanated from the glass. When the police tried to check the cameras, all the footage was either ruined, too melted to gather anything. It left them in a stump. So they had to make a plea to the hero society to get fresh eyes and help on the case. Not expecting any big response. Some heroes wanted to solve the mystery because it stumped them as well. This quirk residue was something unseen before. Calls and emails were left. All saying they would look into it. And it seemed like this would just be a mysterious case left forgotten. That is until the All Might showed up in the station one morning. Along with his protege Deku. They said they wanted to solve the case because if this person left such a dangerous residue after using their quirk, then they were a danger to themselves and others. No on saw the real intentions in their eyes. When they asked about the only other patron in the cafe the police said that they tried tracking them down, but they were gone into the wind. The only other patron at the cafe made their way into a compound. Holding treats meant for a little girl. But first he had to make a stop at his boss’s office. “Hey.. Kai. You won’t believe what Just saw.” Meanwhile in the station two separate rats made calls to two separate people. “Put me through to Shigaraki…. Hello. I have something interesting to tell you. Something that might please you and your Sensei.” “Oh hey there Aizawa. Detective Tsukauchi here. Look I you know about that cafe destruction a week ago? Yea well I think you outta here about this.” Indeed the cafe incident left a bigger mess than intended. 🌗🌗

Daniel and YN part 5 🌗🌗

They’d been gone for at least two months. YN’s feet hurt and Daniel missed his own bed. But they had to keep going, with no intended final destination but a goal to keep away from the previous home they ran from. After the morning at the cafe, YN and Daniel had kept to the shadows for the rest of the day. But they couldn’t keep going like this. They needed to eat today but not at a restaurant. There was only one dreaded… dreaded option. The grocery store. So after they checked in at the latest motel with kitchens in the rooms, the siblings ventured off to the store.YN couldn’t leave Daniel alone yet. He’d panic and probably have a fit. The store was minimally packed. Since it was still early in the day it seemed like they would zip in and out with relative ease. After grabbing the bare essentials, and what she could pack in a backpack without much drag, it was time to go to the candy aisle. It was a long journey thus far, a journey deserving of some sour candies. But of course there had to be another person there. Invading space and looking right at her favorites. She wanted to just grab and go. But her hand and the stranger's hand touched as they reached for the same one. “Sorry. I should’ve watched where I was going heh..” The tall redhead said. A small blush on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s fine. Lemme just grab and go here.” She looked back for Daniel, luckily he was close by staring at the varieties of pocky they had. Turning back she noticed his uniform. UA, that might prove to be a complication. But YN was desperate for some kind words and a brief moment to talk to someone her own age. “So you go to UA? Are you a general student or a hero course student?” “Oh hero course definitely! I even have my hero name chosen!” “Wow that’s great. I hope in a few years I get to be saved by…?” “Red Riot!” “Like Crimson Riot?” “Exactly! I really admire him and I hope I live up to his-“ “OI SH**TY HAIR! WE’RE GONNA BE LATE! GRAB YOUR CRAP AND LET’S GO!” A blonde kid shouted down the aisle, also wearing a UA outfit. YN couldn’t place why but she felt like she’d known him before. That volume felt very familiar, but it startled her brother who jumped in fear causing the pocky he saw to fall off the shelving. Time to go now. “I should go anyway. It was nice meeting you.” “Wait, we could walk you and your brother to your school if you guys want?” “We have to go.” The blonde got closer and she could tell something was perpetually up his ass. “Bye.” “Wait! My name’s Eijiro Kirishima. What’s yours?” “YN. Just YN. That’s my brother Daniel.” And before he or his companion could ask anything else the two siblings fast walked toward the checkout and were out the door before they got another chance to talk to them. “YN… huh she was pretty cool right bakubro!” “What ever. Let’s get going before we show up after Deku.” But that name was familiar to him. The girl had long since faded from his mind, but how could anyone forget the day when a quirkless kid tried bashing your head into the dirt. He planned on apologizing the next day for his comments but she was gone. Gone and almost forgotten. It could be possible that this was just someone who shared the same name. But maybe.. possibly.. the universe was giving him the chance to apologize. “YN.” 🌗🌗

Daniel and YN part 6 🌗🌗

YN never really liked her neighbors. She never outright loathed them, but she was uncomfortable with how Inko kept trying to be her mother, and how Izuku had this strange obsessive stare when he looked at her. As long as they stayed in their apartment and never bothered them it would all be fine. But their parents couldn’t watch them all the time. So on days when momma and pop went out Miss Midoryia would graciously watch them. YN never liked pity. So when Miss Midoryia tried to pity and feel sorry about YN’s quirkless status, that just made her dig her heels in longer. She didn’t need people to fuss over her like she was a glass doll. At least with Izuku she could’ve had a companion. She did try to get along with him. But he was so weird. Just because they both were quirkless didn’t mean they’d would be close. “So why are you homeschooled?” “I get into fights.” “Why?” “Because people are mean and they think they’ll have no consequences to their words. I proved them wrong.” “Were they mean because you’re quirkless or because Daniel is… different?” Now obviously he didn’t mean any harm by that. But an emotional 10 year old girl is not someone to mess with. So with a sharp glare to his face the conversation quickly died. In the dining room, Daniel would usually be coloring. Or playing with his legos. Something to stim and distract his mind. Sometimes he’d just pull out a old painting his dad got him, and he’d spend hours looking at the strokes and would mentally add a new feature. Twirling the hair on his head whilst sucking/biting his thumb. “Daniel? Would you like some water?” “No miss. I want momma.” “I know sweetie but she won’t be gone forever. And you call me Inko” Though she’d prefer him to call her something more affectionate. Throughout the night Inko kept trying to mother them. She hovered over YN’s neck and tried petting her head which resulted in a swipe from the little girl. By the time YN’s parents got back, she was relieved and spent the rest of the night complaining to her mom about how she didn’t want to go over to the neighbors anymore and how she felt uncomfortable. Across the hall the two greenettes were enamored with the two kids. Inko adored how sweet Daniel was, how shy he looked to her. Izuku was star struck at this girl without a quirk who was so quick to fight against the norms put in place by a society against them. They'd soon make it a habit to try to talk to the family in the hall, or bump into them on the street. One day, after the family had been gone for a couple weeks, they saw the two with several police officers and a social worker packing away all their belongings. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something terrible had happened. When Inko offered to watch them, the social worker confirmed the worst and took the children away. Three weeks later, as her son was at school Inko kept trying to find the legal way for her to gain custody of the kids when her door was knocked. Her husband, AFO, on the other side. She tried telling him to go away. Tried saying that he had no part in Izuku’s life anymore. But he had a bigger role than known. “How can you be so cruel my love? Especially now that I’ve opened the door for you to gain what you want?” “What do you mean?” “I’ll help you gain custody of the two children you are craving. I happen to have a fascination with them as well.” “I can’t ever guarantee that we’ll be a whole family ever again.” “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to. But let’s try something for now.” So Inko made a deal with the devil, to gain two angels. 🌗🌗

Now that AFO is in the story, I'm like so excited! Great work, Moon anon!

#moon anon

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underworld-of-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Guardian Angel - Spencer Reid

TW: depression, post-partum depression, mentions of miscarriage, suicide attempt

A/N: So I don’t exactly know where this idea came from, but wherever it did, I’m glad it came. It’s a really long one, and really really sad. I spent almost 2 weeks on it, so I hope you guys enjoy!

He should have noticed. He shouldn’t have ignored the signs; the resentment that you held towards the small human bundled in his arms, the quietness, the reluctance to do anything that involved getting out of bed. He was a profiler for god’s sake. So how didn’t he see this coming?

“Dr. Reid, may I suggest you go home? She won’t be awake for another day at least, and you need rest.” The nurse pressured him as she checked your vitals, examining the machine that was pumping saline into your body.

“Statistically speaking, a normal person can remain awake for 24 hours before serious side effects are exhibited.” Reid mumbled back to the nurse, glancing down at the sleeping baby in his arms.

“I understand that you are a genius Dr. Reid. However, these are different circumstances, and if you were thinking logically, you would understand that your statistics are not reasonable.” Spencer sighed angrily, he knew she was right, there was nothing right about his statistics or reasoning.

“At least have someone come take care of the child. Maybe a close friend or family member? They could bring you some stuff too.” The nurse suggested, motioning towards the bundle who was slowly beginning to awaken. “I’ll be back in an hour to check on your wife, Doctor.” She exited the room swiftly, her footsteps barely audible in the quiet room. If he didn’t hear the door closing gently, he would have thought he imagined the whole thing.

The nurse was right, caring for both you and the baby was hard, and he wasn’t equipped to care for the baby in the small hospital room. Fumbling around in his jacket pocket, he withdrew his phone, that already had a picture of you and your daughter displayed. He smiled gently, almost forgetting everything that was happening around him at the expression on your face. It wasn’t always like this.

After pressing a few buttons, he held his phone to his ear, gently rocking the now fussy baby with his other arm. The dial tone seemed to last forever as he waited for the recipient to answer the phone.

“JJ,” Spencer breathed out as soon as she picked up the phone. “I need a favour,” the sound of shuffling and hushing in the background almost made him relieved.

“Spence, what is it?” JJ’s calming voice crackled over the phone; he could hear his teammates chatting in the background. The voices faded as she stepped away from the group that had gathered around, hoping to hear from Spencer.

“Can you come take Leah? Something is wrong with Y/N, and I just need someone to take care of Leah for me. You’re the person I trust most.” JJ audibly gasped. She knew it was serious, just not serious enough for Spencer to part with Leah. Glancing back at the group, she saw their worried expression, who watched carefully as she shoved stuff into her bag and left the bullpen.

“Okay, where are you?”

*****

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” Spencer breathed a sigh of relief as he handed the bundle of blankets to JJ. Somewhere in which, his daughter was sleeping peacefully.

“Of course, it’s not worries Spencer. It’s serious isn’t it? I mean, Y/N is here, and you didn’t even tell Hotch you weren’t coming into work.” Spencer looked back at the door warily before nodding at JJ, who was gently rocking the baby.

“Post-partum depression. I found her yesterday after work, called the ambulance. I’ve been here since.” She sighed sadly, looking down at the baby before back at Spencer, grabbing his hand in hers.

“Don’t blame yourself for this, you did nothing wrong.” She reassured, rubbing his hand with her thumb. He nodded knowingly, he knew he did nothing wrong, but deep down he couldn’t stop blaming himself for not noticing sooner. “I’ll call Hotch for you, try to get some rest okay?” JJ smiled gently, “call me if you need anything.”

Spencer watched as JJ loaded his daughter into the baby seat in her car, thanking his previous self for remembering to grab the car seat in the rush. Minutes later, he was waving goodbye to JJ and walking back in the hospital doors, with his cardigan pulled tightly around his thin frame.

Upon returning to your room, he saw that you were still sleeping peacefully. Admittedly, this was the most peaceful he had seen you since Leah had been born, which created a painful ache in his chest.

How long had you been suffering on your own? Did you cry alone at night when he was gone on cases? What did you feel towards the small girl who grew in your stomach for 9 months? Did you love her? Hate her? Have no feelings about her?

He couldn’t blame you, how could he? He knew what post-partum depression was. It wasn’t your fault. But he also knew he didn’t help you.

Instead he was infatuated with his daughter, spending most of his hours at home with her. His excuse? He wanted to give you a break, let you rest from being a mother constantly. By doing so, he unintentionally ignored you, left you to your own mind.

It’s not anybody’s fault, the doctor’s mantra replayed in his mind. When you were first brought in, the doctor almost immediately diagnosed you, despite you being unconscious. All of the signs were there, and there was no denying it. Spencer had questioned a few things, he knew of post-partum depression, and what it was. But even he had to admit, he didn’t know everything.

Resting his head on his hand, he allowed himself to slowly drift off into a light doze.

*****

The steady beeping of a machine.

The lights that shined brightly even through your closed eyelids.

The offensive smell of sanitiser that invaded your nostrils.

Those were the first things you noticed as you began to drift towards consciousness. Everything was fuzzy, unfamiliar, your mind clouded as you began to panic from the confusion. Where are you?

You didn’t notice the beeping increase slowly, or the shadow cast from the nurse standing beside you. All you could notice was the dense fog that clouded your mind.

“Mrs. Reid,” a voice coaxed, guiding you through the fog with a bright lamp. The person holding the lamp was a little girl, that looked almost exactly like Spencer, just younger, and with longer hair. “Mrs. Reid, are you there?” You chased after the girl, slowly becoming aware of your surroundings in the dark forest. This makes no sense, you thought to yourself as you spun in a slow circle.

“Slowly becoming aware…coming out of consciousness…dreaming…Dr. Hamid.” You only caught fragments of the conversation, still confused about your location. The little girl was now gone, plunged back into darkness you noticed how cold the ground underneath your feet was, how damp the packed dirt felt.

And then the ground fell out beneath you, as you tumbled through the darkness.

*****

“Dr. Reid,” the nurse jogged up to a very exhausted Reid, who was nursing a badly-made coffee between his hands. “We have good news, Y/N has been drifting in and out of consciousness for a few hours now. She is still very drowsy, but we have managed to get some motor functions out of her, mostly eye flickering and little hand movements. But this is good, really good.” Spencer smiled widely, you were making progress, coming back to him, to Leah.

The white walls of the hospital corridor seemed a bit brighter as he followed the nurse down the hallway. If he didn’t know better, he’d call it a hopeful white – compared to the dull colour that he saw before hearing the good news. But he was a profiler, he knew better, the psychology. He was a profiler, but he missed the signs that led to this. Not a very good profiler, apparently.

Your body still laid relaxed in the bed, your dark hair and blue gown contrasting brightly against the clean white sheets. Spencer revelled in how peaceful you look, it reminded him of the first time he realised he loved you. You had spent the night at his place after a rough case, he had spent half of the night trying to sleep, but instead watching how peaceful you were when you slept. That night, before he fell asleep, he gently mumbled that he loved you, and watched as your lips called into a small smile.

“I love you,” he mumbled, hopeful to get a reaction from you. For a second, he could have sworn that he saw your lips twitch upwards, which ignited a fire in his heart. A fire of hope.

“Y/N, I know you’re there somewhere. I’m so sorry I didn’t notice anything. But I need you to pull through. Leah needs you to pull through.” He begged, holding your cold hand tightly in his own. “Please,” he whimpered.

This time when the light appeared again, you were now faced with a very dimly lit hallway, with no apparent end. The young girl stood beside you, her brown curly hair contrasting distinctly against her pale skin and white dress. She held the same lamp, which shone light onto the walls – which had small etchings for as far as you could see.

Curious, you stepped closer to the wall, trying to see what the etchings meant. But all you could see were tiny letters, which you couldn’t read.

“Come on, we need to go.” The girl grabbed your hand, her palm cold against yours. She turned, and walked down the hallway, pulling you along until you fell into step with her.

“These words… what do they mean?” You asked as you walked down the hallway, which gradually lightened in front of you with each step.

“They’re a story, your story more specifically. Don’t you recognise this place?” You shook your head, confused as to what she meant. “It’s your head, the deepest, darkest part of your mind.” She explained, pointing to all of the words on the wall. “This is your story, your memories, everything you’ve ever seen or done, whether or not you remember it. It’s you, Y/N.” Reaching out, you let your hands run over the small bumps as you walked.

“Wait, so if this is everything in my life, who are you?” You questioned, glancing down at the young girl, who looked eerily familiar.

“I’m Annalise,” your jaw dropped to the floor as your face fell. “I suppose you wouldn’t recognise me, you never got to meet me, mum.” Painful memories flooded your mind, your daughter, the one you never met, never held. The one who slipped away too quickly.

“Wha-? How?” The words tumbled out of your mouth; your lips numb as your stared at her.

“I’m your guardian angel. When I died, I became your guardian angel.” Her lips tugged upwards slightly, pulling into a small smile.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, the tears immediately streaming from your eyes. Sobs wracked your chest painfully as you doubled over, falling to your knees.

“Don’t apologise mum,” her hand touched your cheek, igniting your skin. “It wasn’t your fault,” she reassured. “I just wasn’t meant to be,” her hand brushed back the locks that had fallen in front of your face.

“Did it hurt?” You asked, relieved as she shook her head gently.

“Not even a little bit.” You smiled through the tears; she didn’t suffer. “Come on, let’s keep going. I want to tell you some stuff.”

You pulled her into a hug, sniffling as you smelled Spencer’s shampoo on her. Grabbing her hand, you pulled yourself into a standing position, smoothing out your nightgown before following her further down the hallway once again.

“All of your family and friends wanted to say hello when they heard where you are. Especially your dad, he was once your guardian, until I came along of course. He said he is so proud of you, for everthing you have accomplished and overcome.” Tears welled in your eyes again at the thought of your father, the man who had taught you everything there was to know about life. “Grandpa trained me, he raised me to be the best guardian angel to you.”

“What is it like up there?” You questioned, pointing towards the ceiling. She smiled apologetically at you.

You hardly believed in heaven, but this, you hoped was a sign. Since childhood, you had prayed to whatever higher being, whether a person or the stars, that there was something after death. This was your sign, of a home, a place to belong after death. And not just the dark abyss of simply not existing anymore.

“It’s the most beautiful place, one big family…. But you don’t belong there, not yet.” She said, sensing your excitement, your relief.

“What do you mean?” You questioned; looking around, you noticed the words had finished, now just plain walls on either side. “Where are the words?” She pointed towards the darkness with the lamp, a door was standing at the end of the hallway.

“The story isn’t finished yet. They don’t exist, because they haven’t been written yet.” She explained, her voice thick as she spoke. “I never got to meet you mum, not properly. It was always my biggest dream to meet you, to get to know you. But this isn’t the way, nor the time.” Tears started falling from your eyes in big drops, running down your cheeks. “You need to go home, to daddy, to Leah.” Glancing at the door, you looked back at your daughter, she was a picture copy of Spencer.

“Will I get to see you again?” She nodded with a smile.

“I’m always here, whenever you need, I’ll guide you. And when it’s time, we will meet again.”

Turning to the door, you placed your hand on the cool knob, turning it before stepping into the light.

*****

Bright lights blinded you as you stared up at the white ceiling. Warmth surrounded you, sinking deep into your bones, to your heart. You closed your eyes blissfully, relishing in the warmth. The air smelled clean, almost too clean. Quiet chatter could be heard in the background. But you still relished in the warmth that surrounded you.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice broke the silence, forcing you to open your eyes. “Y/N?” He jumped up, crowding over you as he stared into your eyes. “Oh my god, you’re okay.” Pulling you into a tight hug, he shook as he cried, his tears staining your gown.

You’re okay.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer x reader sad #spencer sad

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kijiboop · 2 years ago

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Rare Chars: Wes Mondale

Invisible

The thunderclap that blasted a stranger clean off his feet from the middle of a clear blue sky was barely noteworthy compared to the string of newspaper headlines that followed. The lottery forgery. The missing parents returned with severe sunburns and no explanation how they'd gotten to and from Bali without a passport. The final cessation of the bigfoot sightings and the alcohol and pornography thefts. The SUV tipped over in the middle of the street, leaving three ten-year-old boys traumatized and refusing to talk about their experience.

The one that really got me, though, was watching Hope Casey wander away from Lucky Chin's like she had just walked out of a dream. A few seconds later, Wes Mondale followed her, his head down and his expression quiet and closed. I watched them both as I'd watched the rest of this town for the last thirty years: passive but curious, on the outside always looking in. It was a side effect of being both a social outcast since middle school and a newspaper reporter.

I had gone to school with both Hope and Wes, though neither of them knew I existed. Wes had had tunnel vision about Hope since forever and Hope never saw anything outside her immediate social group. Neither of them had spotted me--chubby, studious and quiet--except for the time one of Hope's carousel of boyfriends had started picking on me. She'd been kind to me in that blasé way rich or beautiful people tend to be kind to the ugly and less fortunate. Her boyfriend had lost interest and I had melted back into the garish lime-green high school walls.

Wes had always fascinated me. He was smart, almost as quiet as I was, and had a mildly geeky manner that appealed to me. But I'd never really been able to get myself together enough to speak to him, except for the occasional "sorry" in the hallway if we bumped into each other. That had persisted past graduation and into adulthood. The geeky manner didn't fade as he grew up, but he did seem to grow into his nose and ears eventually. Maybe it was just that I'd quietly fallen in love with him when I wasn't paying attention, but he grew into easily the most attractive man in Concrete. Which didn't really help my shyness around him.

When Jenny Rappahannock reported in the lifestyles column that Wes and Hope had announced a surprise engagement nearly a month ago, I had a surprise of my own: I called in sick to work for a week and hid in the bottom of a cheap bottle of wine. Wes had gotten his dearest wish: Hope could finally see him.

But now... the engagement seemed to be off. Hope had returned to her usual blinkered bubble and Wes had gone back to being invisible. This time, I told myself, I wouldn't stay in my own shadows. I was going to make sure he knew that he was seen, had been seen and had always been seen.

I fell into step beside him when he made the turn toward the bus station. "Hey, Wes," I managed to blurt out.

He blinked and looked at me, dark eyes still not quite focusing on anything outside his own mind. "Yeah?"

"You look sad," I said. I felt like an idiot but it was the only thing I could find to say. And it was true. "Are you okay?"

Wes flinched back from the words and turned away. "Not really." His tone said he didn't want to talk about it, either, his body language the equivalent of a door shutting in my face. I kept pace with him and it took him a moment or two to realize I wasn't evaporating this time. "Do I know you?"

"Shannon," I supplied. "Mr. Janacek's Algebra class."

His eyebrows arched high and he paused to actually consider me. "High school?" When I nodded, he blinked rapidly like he was trying to sort out his thoughts. "Sorry, it was a long time ago."

"Not that long," I said quietly, "but I don't blame you for not remembering me."

Something about my words seemed to register and his confusion seemed to ease slowly out of his face, replaced by something like empathy. "Yeah, most people don't remember me, either."

"More than you think, apparently." He looked puzzled and I smiled at him. "Me, Wes. I mean I remember you."

"Huh." Wes rocked back on his heels and rubbed one hand through is hair, looked embarrassed. "I guess I thought I knew all the people from school who were still around. There's only a handful of us. You've been here since graduation or did you go away to school?"

"Community college," I said. "My mother was sick and I needed to stay to help her." Butterflies hammered against the inside of my ribcage as I took a step I'd been daydreaming about for years. "Do you... wanna get a drink or something?"

Wes stared at me so long that I began to wonder if his brain had shorted out. He took a long breath in, then out again and smiled at me. "Yeah. Sure." It wasn't a bright smile, wasn't even a shadow of a happy smile. But he still smiled at me and said yes.

Ernie's Tavern wasn't far from Lucky Chin's, so we walked there. We made small talk as we walked, Wes shorting his stride just enough so I could keep up without having to jog. We settled at the bar, ordered some drinks. When Wes had half-finished his beer, he looked over at me and said, "Thanks for saying something."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I guess I needed to get my head out of my ass. I've been getting a lot of reminding of that in the last 24 hours." I tilted my head, curious. "My fiancé and I broke up," he supplied.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. I was sorry that he was hurting, though I wasn't sorry to see Hope going her own way. "What happened?"

Wes stared into his glass, slowly turning it so the beer washed around the inside. "Someone reminded me that we don't always get what we want." He took a drink, then smiled at me, that same sad smile from the sidewalk. "And that what I want wasn't really what Hope wanted."

"What do you want?" I found myself asking.

Wes chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not even sure anymore. I thought I wanted her to love me. I just wanted... her to love me because she wanted to. Not because I wanted her to." He glanced at the confusion in my face. "Sorry, I know that doesn't make sense. I guess it's like... if a genie gives you three wishes and you wish for someone to love you, it's not the same as them ACTUALLY loving you. They're just doing what they're told."

I sipped from my drink, wondering how to approach his rambling thoughts. "So, she decided she didn't want to love you?"

"She never wanted to love me," Wes said quietly. "It just took me a while to realize that. Even when she could see me, she still didn't know me." He looked up after a moment, his expression hurting.

"She agreed to marry you, didn't she?" I asked.

"Not because she wanted to."

I shook my head. "I don't think I understand."

Wes let out a long sigh. "It doesn't make sense and I can't explain it without sounding crazy."

"I write for the CND," I chuckled. "Nothing surprises me anymore. I covered a Big Foot sighting where he stole porn and Irish crème."

He was quiet for far longer than I thought the comment warranted, but after finishing his beer, he turned to face me on his bar stool, his jaw set and his expression serious. "Promise you won't laugh. Even if you don't believe me."

"I would never laugh." It came out more earnest than I had intended but Wes didn't seem to notice.

"The wishing well at Lucky Chin's," he said in a half-whispered rush, "works. Well, it used to work. A couple of guys came and fixed it so it doesn't anymore but it worked. I wished Hope would love me and she did and it was... not what I expected."

"Wishes usually aren't," I replied.

Wes blinked in surprise. "You believe me?"

I shrugged. "I'm willing to entertain the idea that the paranormal is real. Especially if there's evidence. If you say you dropped a coin in a wishing well, made a wish and your wish came true, I'm willing to say something outside the realm of normal life occurred to support that idea." At his baffled expression, I grinned and added, "I'm an agnostic, Wes. I think the same thing about God. Give me proof of the existence of anything and I'm willing to reconsider my world-view."

"So... if my proof is that I wished for it and she agreed to marry me, moved in with me and started to cry any time she thought I might not love her?"

"And two guys came to 'fix it' and she stopped doing that?"

"Right."

I nodded. "I believe you."

Wes stared at me. "Just like that?"

I grinned and nodded. "Just like that."

"Wow. I wish I was that flexible."

"Careful what you--"

"Wish for, I know." Wes smiled and this time, it was an actual smile. "Why have we never talked before?"

I answered his smile with a wry, half-smile of my own. "You never saw me before." He winced. "Not your fault. With someone like Hope walking around, there wasn't much reason to see someone like me."

Wes pondered this for a while. When the bartender came around, he ordered another beer and glanced at me. "Refill?"

"Please."

The bartender brought our drinks and vanished down the bar again, leaving us in thoughtful silence. "You were... what, class of '87?"

"88'."

"And you were in Janacek's Algebra?"

"Advance placement." Wes glanced at me, clearly impressed and I grinned. "I was bored in 8th grade math, so they moved me up."

Wes tilted his head to study me again and I could feel my cheeks flushing. "I would have remembered an 8th grader in Algebra."

"I was there," I retorted, "so clearly you don't." He looked like he wanted to say something, then paused to think again and shook his head, dismissing it. "I was quiet," I added. "Nobody much noticed me. At the time, it was a blessing. I was scared of everyone in that class, you included."

"Me?" Wes laughed. "Why would you be scared of me?"

"Do you remember being in eighth grade?" I chuckled. "Anyone older than you is terrifying, especially if you're the only one there who's younger." Wes nodded acceptance and I continued, "I didn't answer questions in class unless directly called on, so I went under the radar. Well, except for you when you tried to cheat off my paper."

"What!?"

I grinned. "Quarterly exams, you were stuck and sitting next to me. Nobody was looking except me." I watched in satisfaction as his face turned red, right up to his ears. "Didn't get caught, no harm, no foul. But I kept my arm around my paper after that."

"I didn't know that was you."

"Obviously."

He paused, then whispered, "Thanks for not turning me in, then. I barely passed that class. I probably would have failed if I hadn't cheated on that test."

"You're welcome." I sipped my wine. "I would have helped more if you'd asked me, you know. It was the stealing that bothered me, not the sharing of answers."

He raised his eyebrows. "I guess I never thought of asking. I didn't think anyone would have said yes."

"Never know until you ask."

Wes stared into his beer for a second, drained it, then turned to me and said, "Can I get your number? Give you a call sometime?"

I had to bite my lip very hard to keep from laughing at his delivery: he was far drunker than he probably should have been on three beers but I wasn't going to knock him down at this point. "I would like that," I said with a smile. He handed me his phone and I typed in my number, then handed it back. "Just as long as I'm not just a rebound date."

"Rebound?" Wes seemed genuinely confused for a moment, then blinked and chuckled. "Oh, you mean after Hope. Honestly, it wasn't even a real thing. Not really."

"Might have been magic influencing her but it was still real for you."

His face sobered and he considered my words. "Maybe," he said softly. "But just talking to you feels different from anything I've done before. Magic or no magic." He paused to give me a squinty stare. "You didn't drop a coin in a wishing well or something, did you?"

I grinned. "Never even crossed my mind."

#supernatural spoilers #supernatural fanfic #supernatural rare characters #spn rare chars #fanfic #wesley mondale #wes mondale #ted raimi

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maplecornia · 3 years ago

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chapter 22

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 4.36K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: our first full introduction to all of BTS! I hope you're all excited ^^

Why did there have to be a meeting today of all days?

Yoongi scowls in the back of the car, trying his best to work on the small music app he’s downloaded for free on his phone. Letting out a small growl, he throws the phone aside, frustrated and annoyed.

“Absolute trash.” He snarls, staring ahead with nothing but malice in his eyes. The driver flinches a bit at the dark aura emanating from the back seat, and slowly rolls up the little partition glass that separates the two.

You know...just in case.

Yoongi notices the small act of distance and rolls his eyes, scoffing. He doesn't have to apologize. He can have a bad attitude if he wants. His schedule was supposed to be completely free today, a day where he could work on the album quietly. It was supposed to be a productive day, one where he could hole himself up in his studio and work and work until he made music that was perfect for their comeback.

Perfect for BTS.

Narrowing his eyes, he mutters a string of curse words under his breath for the 7th time that morning.

Then he got the call. That there was an urgent meeting for BTS to attend. A meeting that would affect the future of the company.

Running his hands through his hair, he tries to refrain himself from punching the car window out.

"What the hell is that even supposed to mean?!" He screams in aggravation, causing the driver on the other side of the partition to jump, startled. Not paying any mind to the driver currently struggling to restart his heart, Yoongi sighs, positioning himself on the seat so that he's comfortably lying down. Looking up at the ceiling with his soft, sparkling eyes, he tries to calm down. See things in a brighter light, try not to care so much. It's just...things are so frustrating to him.

All.

The.

Time.

Raising his hand to cover his eyes, he tries to remember a time when things had been so hard. He remembers training, debut, remembers the struggles of rising to the top, remembers injuries, exhaustion, remembers quarantine and tireless motivation…

Each moment seemed worse than the last. Every time they conquered a new struggle, another presented itself. As though they were walking down a road filled with multiple storms. A road that was destined to tear them apart, scatter them and leave them for dead.

Suga didn't think it would be so hard to leave. They were only gone for 2 years and yet by the time they got back it was almost as though the world had either forgotten about them, replaced them, or turned against them. Smiling bitterly, he raises his dark eyes to the ceiling once more, his hand curling into a fist at his side.

"You really fooled us didn't you...?" He mutters, his voice soft, but cold. Shivering with forgotten remorse. His hand rests itself safely over his eyes, shielding himself from the world. Trying so hard not to lose himself, he fights back the tears, barely able to struggle out the one word he's been holding back for so long.

"ARMY…"

Closing his eyes, he fails to catch one solo tear that falls, trailing a lonesome streak of wet painful memories across his soft ivory cheek.

He doesn’t remember the rest of the drive to the studio, choosing instead to block everything out and focus on releasing the dark cloud shrouding his mind. He’s learned how to deal with the pain, how to erase it, ease it safely and securely back into the inner corners of his mind...his heart. It's an endless procedure, falling and picking the pieces back up again. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times he may lock them away...they always come back, stronger and worse than before.

At least he’s learned to keep it inside.

At least he can safely hide.

And pretend everything is alright.

As the car pulls to a stop, Yoongi seriously considers skipping the meeting and staying home. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel like crap. Maybe then he’ll be able to forget...at least for a while. However, as soon as the car pulls up, the driver immediately opens the door and cuts the ignition. Yoongi groans from the back seat, glaring up at the ceiling just as his driver opens his door, and nervously waits for him to exit.

Muttering under his breath about how some people are such pussies nowadays, Yoongi reluctantly sits up, gathers his things and exits the car. Paying no mind to the nervous driver, he stares up at his company building. His face hidden in a shadow, he bites his bottom lip, his hand clenching around the strap to his backpack.

Since when has he regretted coming here?

Since when was he afraid to see what may lie on the other side?

Shaking his head free of such thoughts, he groans, the dark cloud surrounding him only growing. Today’s just a bad day, he really needs to pull himself together. Sighing, he rubs his hand over his face before heading towards the building. Each step seems to weigh him down, blur the world around him, bring him further and further into his mind.

A dark mess of music notes and compositions.

Of torrents of pain and broken promises.

Of hidden fears and memories.

The mind of a man past his breaking point.

But then he hears the voice.

“Yoongi!”

Just as he’s opening the door to the building, it calls out from right behind him. That one voice...that one sweet cacophony holding brotherhood and love, is enough to draw him back to reality. It’s enough to break the hold the darkness had had on him. Smiling softly to himself, he turns and meets his eyes with a soft steady look of his own.

“Hoseok.”

Jhope smiles broadly at the mention of his name, and finishes running across the distance to his hyung. Clapping his hand around his shoulder he chuckles a bit as they walk together inside. Yoongi smiles at him a bit, but looks away before Jhope could notice.

If he was being honest, any one of his members have the same effect on him. Every one of them...the hidden parts to the family they have struggled so hard to build...they make everything okay. They make everything worth it.

If Yoongi were to suffer…

Then it would be okay.

As long as it was all for them.

“Hyung, why do you think PD-nim wanted us here this early?” Hoseok asks, breaking his hold on his friend in order to stretch as he yawns. Yoongi doesn’t answer, brooding a bit over how his work got interrupted once more. First it was Namjoon, over a stupid assistant, now its Bang Sihyuk?

“Whatever it is, I hope he has a good reason for interrupting me.” Yoongi mutters darkly under his breath, startling Jhope a bit. Jhope flinches, and noticing the change in Yoongi’s mood, steps away a small distance, chuckling nervously.

“Were you working on something important?” he asks as they walk inside the elevator, headed to the office on the top floor. Yoongi scoffs as he presses the button and the elevator doors close.

“I sure hope it was. It was for our new album, which is due no less than a few months from now! Namjoon and I still haven’t even gotten the beat down for the title track...and now this?! What could possibly be more important?” Yoongi sighs, collapsing against the cool metal walls against the elevator. Cold and indifferent, he stares at his warped expression in them, wondering if that’s enough to protect himself.

But...

What does he need to protect himself from?

Jhope regards Suga with a soft look, almost pitiful. He’s found that when he gets like this, sometimes it’s just best to leave him be, to let him work it out on his own. But right now…

Is this really the best way to solve things?

The look on Yoongi’s face is familiar, and yet different from all those times before.

Hoseok finds that he can't read it, he doesn’t recognize it. Something about that…

Scares him.

As the elevator dings, and Yoongi immediately steps out into the hallway, it takes Jhope a moment to follow suit. Silent, he watches the back of Yoongi, trying hard to understand him, figure out what’s going on with him. It frustrates him that right now, when he needs him most is when Jhope has no idea how to help him.

Can he help him?

Biting the inside of his cheek, he looks at his feet as they make their way to the meeting room. He knows that ever since they were separated, ever since the military enlistment, no one has been the same. Once beloved by the world, they found themselves facing the fear of being forgotten. Of entering a world where no one cares about who you are...only how strong you can be. An honorable service, but a taxing one, something that would change a person.

And so it has changed Bangtan.

For Yoongi, it drove him further into himself. Into the depression of darkness he had tried so hard to avoid. Without his sources of light, without that grasp on hope he had before...he found everything fading away. He found himself fading away.

How easy is it to find yourself again?

How easy is it to turn everything back to how it was before?

For anyone who knows...it’s near impossible.

So he’s trying, he’s trying his hardest to turn it into something that he can live with. Into a strength he can look back on and say he grew from. Another obstacle that he has defeated in his pathetic excuse he calls a life…

But what can he do right now?

Except fall deeper and deeper into the darkness which becomes so alluring to him. He finds himself longing for it, he finds himself wishing to end it...because what is he fighting for anyway? He already reached the top...and now he has to make his way back up again? What is that supposed to mean to him? How is he supposed to deal with that?

They said they would stay with them.

They said they would wait for them.

But they lied.

They moved on, they forgot.

Was everything they ever did…

Did everything mean nothing to them?

Entering the meeting room the pair of them are greeted by noise. The familiar noise of joy and laughter Bangtan carries with them everywhere, just happy being with the other...no matter how many hardships they may face nor how much the darkness may cloud each of their minds...as long as they're together, nothing else matters. Yoongi can’t help it…

He smiles.

It happens on its own accord, without warning. It's just...seeing them, seeing how happy they are despite everything makes him feel a bit of happiness, a little ray of joy, a little speck of pride and amongst them all he finds what he’s been looking for all along.

Hope.

The one thing stronger than his fear.

“Yoongi! And Hobi hyung! You guys made it!” Jimin practically barrels into Yoongi as Jhope closes the door behind the two of them. Laughing like a maniac, Jimin squeezes Suga so tightly that it's hard for him to pry him off.

“Seriously Jimin, you saw me just yesterday, you act as though it’s been years.” Suga sighs, placing his backpack in one of the many chairs in the meeting room as Jimin pouts. Jhope chuckles at his expression, rubbing his hair affectionately before following suit.

“It feels like it’s been years! Have you forgotten that we only got back a few weeks ago? I’ve missed our hugs--” Yoongi places his hand expertly on Jimin’s face, stopping him as he moves in for another hug. Growling, Jimin gives him a glare and Suga raises his eyebrow.

“What was our deal about hugs?” Jimin pulls away at the ultimatum and dramatically deflates into the chair next to Yoongi as he sarcastically recites the “deal”, deepening his voice and flattening it as much as he can in order to match Suga’s.

“One free hug a day...any other extra will cost you.” While Suga rolls his eyes, he can’t help but crack a smile as everyone else in the room laughs along and Jimin sits up in the chair, chuckling to himself at his great impersonation. Well...great in his eyes. Shaking his head, Yoongi looks around at the room, smiling at the familiar faces he finds meeting his own.

There’s Jin, who hasn’t stopped laughing, his unique laughter carrying through the room, half hurting everyone’s ears, and half bringing them joy and happiness. Yoongi always forgets that it’s actually possible to miss that strange windshield laugh.

There’s Taehyung who sits next to Jin and rolls his eyes a bit at how hard he’s laughing, before chuckling softly to himself in quiet happiness. Yoongi still can’t believe that there was ever a time he didn’t cherish Tae as much as he does now.

There’s Hobi who has just settled into a chair right next to Yoongi and laughs that contagious laugh that strikes hope and joy into even the darkest of hearts. Suga still remembers when that laugh first entered his life.

There’s Jimin who has just tackled Suga into another hug before dancing away and laughing almost manically. Yoongi lets him off the hook, smiling softly to himself because if he were being really honest...he would want those hugs every day of his life.

Then there’s Namjoon, the one who watches over them all, a small but distant smile present on his face. As Yoongi raises his eyes to him, he can’t help but feel a bit of nostalgia.

His first friend.

His best friend.

Perhaps the only one who could understand him and yet…

He always seems so far away.

Namjoon, as though feeling Suga’s gaze on him, slowly flickers his eyes over to him and is startled by what he finds.

He sees the darkness shrouding his dear friend's mind. He sees the cry for help. His heart pounding with worry and trepidation, he bravely meets Suga’s deep conflicted eyes and tries to pick them apart, solve them as though they were a problem only he could untangle. He hasn’t seen this face for so long, he hasn’t seen this kind of fear in his friend before. His chest constricting, he almost wants to hold onto Yoongi and hold him tight in his arms until he makes everything better.

As though it were his job to make everything better.

His brow crinkling with concern, he opens his mouth in order to address him, but an outburst from Taehyung who is looking out into the hallway cuts him off and the connection is broken. Yoongi almost immediately looks away, leaving Namjoon to continue to stare at him, in deep thought.

"Where's Jungkookie? Why is he so late?" Tae is asking as he leans back in his chair to stare out the see-through glass that encases them inside the meeting room. Jimin, coming up behind Tae, almost makes him fall as he pushes the chair down so that Tae meets his eye.

"Wha…" Taehyung begins but Jimin cuts him off.

"That's rich coming from you Mr. MickeyD." Jimin snorts at the reference to the soaked bags Tae brought as a peace offering yesterday, before letting go of his chair and leaving Taehyung to teeter slowly to a stop. Jin, picking up on the let's tease Taehyung memo nods and leans forward in his chair as though invested in the conversation.

"Yeah, where were you yesterday? You took an hour to get here TaeTae…" he coos, reaching forward to touch his hand but Tae pulls away grimacing. Jin laughs before pulling away and Namjoon rolls his eyes, ignoring the small smirk growing on his face.

"Stop it guys, he was helping Yen, my new assistant manager." Namjoon explains as he pulls out his phone to check any new notifications. "She fell during the afternoon rush in the lobby yesterday and hurt her ankle. Tae was helping her to the hospital. That's why she's not coming in today."

At that comment, Jimin's face goes a bit cold, and he glances at Tae in the corner of his eye. Tae nods frantically in agreement to Namjoon's statement almost as if he were clearing his name, and Jimin can't help but feel a pang of disappointment.

Tae used to tell him everything…

So why does Namjoon know this and he doesn't?

It wasn't that hard to explain...he would have understood...so why?

Why couldn't Taehyung talk to him instead of having to turn to RM?

Tae swallows hard to see if they all believe him, his heart pounding a bit fiercely in his chest. That was partly the truth...but Namjoon doesn't know the whole story. Nervously glancing at Namjoon in the corner of his eye, he can't help but fidget a bit.

The only way he was able to keep Yen home was to get the all clear from RM. And in order to do that...he had to tell him that you were hurt. And so that's exactly what he did...it just wasn't entirely the truth.

Looking down at his hands, he holds them tightly, faintly remembering how your hands felt in them. If he told Namjoon about what happened, who knows what he would have thought? Besides, Taehyung doesn’t want to tell anyone about that day. He doesn’t know why, he has nothing to hide but…

It's almost as if he mentions it to someone else…

It’ll become theirs and not his.

“In any case, we’ve been waiting long enough...where’s BangPD anyway?” Suga wonders quietly, not bothering to hide the frustration in his tone.

“Good morning to you too, Yoongi.” At the voice, the 6 of them freeze, and slowly turn toward the door, which was closed once before, but now occupies three significant figures. Suga tries hard not to wince, but as he meets BangPD’s dark eyes, he can’t help it. The other members seem to shrink due to the tension rising in the room as the door closes behind the newcomers. This isn’t exactly a situation they would like to be present for.

“Jungkook!” Jhope cries as he scans the three faces, and sure enough there he is standing attentively behind BangPD. He smiles a bit as Jhope calls his name, and waves to them but when BangPD walks into the room, Jungkook follows closely behind. The third figure, a tall and slender woman, closes the door behind them.

Namjoon glances towards her a bit curiously, trying to place where he may have seen her before. As she sits in a chair near to the door, a reasonable distance from the rest of the others, she glances towards him as well. As their eyes meet, Namjoon barely has time to notice the small flecks of gold circling in her brown eyes before she looks quickly away. Raising his eyebrow, he shrugs before turning to BangPD who is setting down a few papers and documents in the head chair of the meeting room.

“Sir, what exactly is going on? Why did you ask Jungkook to text us all to meet here? Is it something to do with the album?” BangPD smiles at Namjoon’s quick wit as the rest of the members glance at each other a bit confused. He’s the only one who figured out that BangPD was the one behind that strange text last night. Sitting down, BangPD meets Namjoon’s stern but curious eyes, trying to pick apart the complexity hidden behind their depths.

“The reason is simple. We needed to confer with you 7 as shareholders in the company.” Taehyung sits up from his once relaxed position at the sentence, turning attentively towards BangPD-nim. He glances toward Jungkook to try and read his expression, but Jungkoook avoids his gaze. What exactly are the two of them planning?

BangPD nods to the woman sitting attentively in the back and she nods back, pulling out a computer and walking to the head of the table. She opens it and begins connecting it to the stereo system. Yoongi crinkles his brow at the curious setup. Once the woman is finished, she nods toward BangPD before heading back to her seat next to the door.

“Before we can do that however...there’s something you need to hear.”

With that, BangPD presses play and once more...your voice fills the room.

It instills a hush over each of them. Each one of them, even the woman in the back, is visibly affected by the emotion in your voice. The soulful pain that you carry through each note you sing takes them to a world which only they can see; drives them to emotions they have never felt before.

Jin goes completely still, trying his hardest to hold back the tears which are threatening to spill over and wet his cheeks. He wants to hurt whoever made you feel this way. Whoever made you sing like this...as though you were crying out for help.

Jhope’s expression is blank, completely out of character for him. But he can't help it. At the sound of your voice, he is unable to keep the mask up for any longer. It falls, shows everything underneath, shows what he really hides behind his smile. He can hardly feel it as the single tear runs down his cheek.

It takes all Jimin has not to break down into tears right then and there. He stares at the computer as though that would help him reach you. Help him to erase the pain that has affected you deep inside. As though he could erase in you what he could never erase in himself.

Yoongi has closed his eyes, leaning his head back in the chair he sits in. As though if he were to open them, the voice would disappear and the beauty he sees behind his eyes would go with it. As though it's the only anchor keeping him from completely fading away.

Namjoon finds himself searching through his mind, trying to figure out where he’s heard this voice before. Where he’s felt this kind of pain, this deep level of sadness and insecurity. Trying to remember why he can find some familiarity in it. Why he feels as though he’s home and safe.

Taehyung is petrified. He’s heard this voice before. He has it saved safely in his pocket at this very moment. He helped the owner of this voice home the other day. He can still feel her touch on his skin.

Frantically, he glances toward Jungkook once more. How was he able to get this recording? Was he there? And if he was…

Then was that moment Taehyung shared, that one break in time where he could only see you, that one moment where he knew, he just knew that you were perhaps the only one who could truly understand him…

When he couldn’t understand himself…

Did it mean nothing at all?

Jungkook smiles to himself now as he sees the room which is alight with your voice. As he sees the way they change, the way they are affected, how it seems as though they have been healed with the sound, the beautiful world which your voice brings to each one of them. When he sees the way your voice alights in them a new fire, a new flame unable to be doused, he sees the true purpose behind your voice behind you.

A light that was meant to be shared.

As the song ends, though he’s sad to see it go, this time he’s sure that he’ll hear it again.

That he’ll hear you again.

In the silence, the ones who remain have a hard time coming back to themselves. It's as though they are wandering in the dark, now that the world they were able to see has disappeared. Almost as though they had forgotten how to live, how to breathe without that utopia in their mind.

But the main thing is that suddenly, all at once…

They felt as though they had been healed.

Even if it was only for a moment.

“Her name is Yen.” BangPD’s voice breaks through the fragile silence, catching everyone’s attention, including Jungkook. Clearing his throat, Bang Sihyuk opens your file, passing it forward on the table. Everyone is able to see your ID picture, where you were born, your current number, your family members, your current address...even your social security number. It’s all there, for each of them to see and to immediately know…

“She has recently been hired as Namjoon’s assistant in Jaejin’s absence.” BangPD explains, but this is something they already know. They share a look with each other, recognizing that this is the same girl who brought a smile on their face yesterday.

“Now that you have heard her voice, let’s get down to business.”

The same girl who was hours late for her first day.

“The real reason I called you all here is because we need to make a decision.”

The same girl who turned Namjoon into a frantic mess.

“A choice that may make or break this company.”

The same girl who turned Jungkook into a dumbstruck teenage boy.

“A choice that involves this voice, that involves Yen.”

The same girl who helped Taehyung find himself...even for a little while.

“As shareholders for this company this affects each and every one of you.”

Though the rest may not have met you...they all saw the picture.

“I called you here today to ask you…”

They saw in you the same charming girl that everyone else had seen throughout the day.

“If the 7 of you would agree to signing this girl on as a trainee for our company.”

The one behind this voice.

Is the same girl who tried to stuff an entire bowl of salad in her face.

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: crazy crazy

chapter 23 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

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the-silentium · 4 years ago

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Rock Bottom

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 4150 words

Warnings: Blood, gore, monsters, killing, ANGST, cruel world in action.

A/N: I just reached 500 followers?! This is crazy! I love you all people who somehow put up with my insanity ♥️

Taglist: @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5 / @and-claudia / @clone-rambles

______________________

The vice grips around your upper arms burned as the talons cut through the fabric and tore through the skin. The humanoid creature hissed in pain when your bodies switched position and he got the worst of the branches. Soon, you found yourself falling on top of the Algax, out of breath and in pain.

It quickly rolled over, throwing you to the ground right under itself. You heard yells and saw lights illuminating your surroundings, but more importantly, you saw the eyeless, noseless face mere centimeters from your face, the hideous lining that you thought was its mouth looked burned and sewn shut as if to prevent it from feeding on its prey.

You would have been relieved of the fact if the pain in your arms hadn't moved to your whole torso. He was crushing you to death!

Out of your daze, you trashed around, feet kicking what would be its chest, attempting to push it away. Screeches erupted from tiny slits at the side of its hectically rotating head, the Algax abruptly jerked away from the ground, your body still in its grip. It started moving away from the clones, unbothered by the blaster bolts hitting its back successively or by your movements.

Orders were barked in your ear but they didn't register. All you could acknowledge was the building pressure around your bones, how it was becoming almost impossible to breathe even the tiniest of breath. You were positive that your ribs would start to break at any second now.

The primal part of your brain then took over, reaching for your knife and plunging it forward in the dark blue arm holding you above ground.

The effect was instantaneous. You were thrown like a rag doll to the side, right into a trunk. The thud of your head hitting the wood resonated through your skull, stilling you. Your whole body seemed to completely stop functioning for a whole second before remembering that this wasn't the time to chill out.

A moan nearly escaped your mouth as the first satisfying breath of the last minute filled your lungs. How could you never realize that breathing felt so right? Breathing felt so good. So much better than being squished like a miserable insect. Oh no. Was this how they felt every time you'd step on them? This was so crue-

"Are you okay?" Confused, you blinked at Tech's question.

"Me?" You pointed to yourself as if the question wasn't clear enough.

Then the pain in your arms registered and-

"Holy mother fucker that hurts!" You whined, experimentally poking the bleeding skin to see if this really was the source of the pain.

"Don't touch it!" Tech chastised, slapping your hand away, to which you glared in return.

"I'll die of a blood disease." You pouted, watching as your wound touched the disgusting bloody mix you spread on your clothes earlier.

"Highly possible." You felt the color leaving your face. Maybe you said it, but you didn't want it!

"But we won't let that happen." You jumped at the gauze tightening around your wound unexpectedly, your opposed hand almost shooting out to hit him instinctively.

"That was an Algax, correct?" Hunter approached behind Tech, keeping an eye on the surroundings while the engineer fixed your other arm.

"Spot on. He ran away, right?" The dark blue monster was nowhere to be seen, not that it bothered you.

"Right after you stabbed him." He handed you your knife that you apparently dropped at some point. "Look like those things are blaster proof or something."

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there's no blaster in the lore." You gladly took the life-saving weapon back, securing its handle in your grip where it belonged.

"Does your head hurt?" Tech inquired, getting up when he was satisfied with the makeshift bandages.

"Nope. All good." It was pounding in there, but whatever.

Getting back on your feet with Tech's help, you took a second to stabilize yourself before giving a heart attack to the nerd.

"Don't do that!" He yelped, catching everyone's attention on your stretching self.

"I'm just stretching..."

"You just hurt your back! Don't flex your spine like that!" He successfully got you back straight with a slap to your abdomen.

"We have to leave." Crosshair cut you off, pushing between the both of you to get ahead.

"I agree with Cross. No more fuss." You speed-walked to catch up to the abrasive clone, desperately trying to keep the laugh in at the rhyme.

"Thanks for that." You whispered to him, eyes already moving from shadow to shadow.

"Don't thank me. If you stretch again I'll make your life more miserable than it already is." Oh how this only made you want to stretch to push his buttons.

"Can't make it miserable if that means you'll be around." You grinned, unabashed by the meaning of your words. It was time for him to warm up to you a little more.

Every second of silence made you cheer inside. Rending the snarky sniper speechless was an exploit after all.

"I can figure something out." He countered weakly after a while.

Chuckling, you rotated the handle of your knife between your skilled fingers, alternating it from pointing forward and backward to pass your sudden regain of energy. Why did he have such an effect on you? It still was a mystery that you'd have to elucidate later.

"I hear a voice." Hunter informed the group.

"Is it calling you?" This was never a good sign, the Venuste were really effective critters in their task of enchanting everyone around. Keeping him with you and away from them would necessitate Wrecker's muscles.

"No, it's a kid's voice. Whining about flee- fleeing? Something like that. It's not clear."

"A kid?" You stopped dead, deeply confused. Had the council gone mad?! What could possibly justify sending kids out to their death? Or did they get caught outside like you did? "Where?"

"Sure it's not a trap?" He pointed over your shoulder to your right.

"One way to be sure." It genuinely hurt to stay in position and not speed walk through the trees to verify if the council had gone from a bunch of imbeciles to a cohort of assholes running the whole village to their doom.

You had to remind yourself that when you agreed to join the commandos, you'd made a promise to fight for them as well as with them and that you'd be a reliable asset at any time in any given situation. You weren't alone anymore.

It didn't change the fact that it was hard.

"It's personal?" Crosshair clearly saw the shift in your mood, from the tightness in your muscles that wasn't there before to the sudden lack of motion of your armed hand.

"I just want to know if I'll break my hand again or not."

"Break your hand?"

The question passed over your head when you heard the young boy's voice. He wasn't from the village, you knew every kid there mainly because you liked to help them build traps for strangers to fall in and they liked your prank ideas. You didn't know how to tell Tech that you were the one to propose the phosphorescent bird poo mixed with loth wolf puke idea. Maybe it was better to take it to your grave.

You halted at the edge of the clearing illuminated by the moon and its stars, eyes glued to the young boy walking in circle a couple of meters away, his bare feet bleeding profusely from the incessant walking he endured for who knew how long. Your heart squeezed at his fate. No one deserved this kind of torture, let alone an innocent child.

Your eyes adjusted to the new light, a new serene pallet of color taking over the gradually fading shades of blue and black.

The boy's clothes were torn up and dirty to a point where you couldn't say for sure what color it was initially or if there was a design on it like most children liked to wear nowadays.

"What's wrong with him?" Wrecker's worry hit you in the gut. You shouldn't have to tell him this because this shouldn't exist.

"He's a Wanderer, now. A Lumsin got his soul." You slumped, defeated.

"His soul?" He tilted his head and although you couldn't see it, you were sure there was a frown hidden under the customized helmet.

"Yes. Everyone has a soul and Lumsins feed on them. When they eat a soul, the body becomes lost and wander around, walking and walking until it dies."

"His soul got eaten." He reiterated in a whisper, the hand lifting to his head not lost on you.

"Y-" Your heartbeat shot through the roof when your eyes found a crest necklace around the kid's neck.

You knew that crest all too well. And those beautiful red hairs, they should have made you realize sooner. Way sooner.

"I know him." It unconsciously escaped your lips before you leaped forward, not able to repress your urges anymore.

Crosshair was hot on your tail, the others staying in the shadows to keep an eye out.

You jumped before the boy, hands rising to his cold cheeks, wishing that the gesture would pull him out of his spell. He merely rammed into you with his small 6 years old emaciated body, barely making you budge.

He continuously mumbled the same sentence, the last thought his body heard from his soul before the contact was lost.

"I want Fleena."

"Nixon, buddy." You grazed the freckles on his cheeks with your thumbs. He was so familiar.

You'd never met him when he was still a lively boy, their village wasn't one to be in close contact with the others, but you've seen extremely detailed drawings of him. Plus, he looked so much like his sister.

"We have to go." Crosshair pressed, anxious to be so out in the open. You knew you were being delusional and were basically putting him in danger for someone who couldn't be saved, but you had something to do.

"I'll be quick." You assured the sniper before taking the robin carved necklace off Nixon's small neck to store it in your pants pocket.

"Your sis' loves you very much, Nixon." You tenderly kissed his forehead like any child should be kissed, with utter softness and care. "And she wants you to be free."

You could easily remember the nights out between the local cantina and the general store, where Fleena would show you drawings of the beasts that attacked her village when their gates got breached. You were terrified. Her whole village was wiped out in a single night, leaving her behind with a mind plagued with nightmares and grief.

She talked often about Nixon who had turned 6 the week before it happened. She would relive her best moments with him, where laughs and smiles were a common occurrence. Then she'd close on herself, praying to the merciless gods above to at least let her brother be in peace.

It broke your heart to know that it wasn't the case. That he was still trapped, may his soul be somewhere else, hopefully, in a better world, his body was still living in a wicked world.

"You deserve to rest Nixon." You ruffled his hair like Fleena used to do.

With a quick movement of your hands, you freed him from his torment in this cruel world.

The world numbed for a moment, mind blocking the events for your own sanity, but it wasn't enough. It didn't stop all the injustice of this world. A vast beautiful world that you couldn't explore because of monsters waiting for the right moment to bounce. You were forced to live in a cage when the world was so vast. Kids were forced to grow up too fast or couldn't grow up at all. This world was sick.

It took 2 hours for your stomach to empty itself on the ground for the first time of the night. In all honesty, it was longer than you initially expected.

Oh. You didn't expect either to find yourself back into the woods, without any memory of making the way back. Hands alternate from patting your back to stroking up and down between your scapulas.

Someone's tears fell onto the bile, or maybe it was raining. Yes, it was raining. You felt the water stream down your cheeks like rivers, the two trails joining at your chin to fall on the ground.

"You freed him." Crosshair crouched to your level so you'd not tune him out like you did the others. "You helped him."

"I helped him." You repeated. It was true.

"You did." A finger moved across your cheek to remove the remaining rain from your face. No. They were tears. Your tears of pain.

"I hate to force this on you, but we have to get back to the rav-"

A scream of distress pierced the night, cutting off the sergeant in the worst way possible. Everyone froze, listening to the yells asking for help that only you understood. Another hunter. He wasn't that far away.

"He's asking for help." You mumbled slowly coming out of your daze.

Your eyes moved away from the bile splattered before your knees to meet the black and white helmet of your sergeant. You were in no position to decide, the fog in your mind only beginning to dissipate gradually.

"We can't help." The requests for assistance had already morphed into screams of pain and agony that they didn't need to be translated to understand.

"We hurry back and get off this rock." He cut short, the yells fading quickly in intensity.

Hands under your armpits helped you up. Shaky legs stilled after a couple of seconds and a few deep breaths. Slowly as if you'd double over at any second, Wrecker's huge hands let go of their grip on you. With a muttered thanks you harshly wiped your face with your hands to get yourself together.

You needed to bottle up every event happening tonight for later. You'd have time to scream, thrash around and cry when you'd be safe within the Havoc Marauder.

"Ready." You affirmed after swallowing the lump in your throat.

The night was silent again, meaning that the beast could either be feasting or roaming around again. The group will have to be extra careful to return to the ravine and stay under the radar. Many species could have caused this kind of screams and they weren't to be messed with.

Hunter took the front while you took his place in the middle, just behind him. Crosshair grazed your right arm, Tech your left and Wrecker got your back.

You purposefully ignored the worried glances coming from Tech, it surely must have been a shock to see you do what you did in the clearing. It was so out of nowhere for them. But it wasn't for you. A big part of your brain simply wished they would not abandon you on the planet once you all make it back to the ship.

This time, you were the first one to notice the change in the atmosphere. What was interpreted by Hunter as the wind humming through the trees was in fact a very angry Kribat protecting its territory.

"Hide!" You whispered harshly in the comlink you hurriedly pulled out of your pocket. There was no way they'd see your hand sign at your current position.

It was so sudden that they stopped for a millisecond, unsure of where to hide. You pushed through them to lead the way to a deeper line of trees on your left, feet moving faster to get more distance between the Kribat and your group.

Your feet slipped under yourself when you ducked behind a particularly large tree. Despite your best efforts to stay upright, gravity pulled you down to your fall, as it clearly enjoyed to do, both physically and mentally.

The ground wasn't as hard as you remembered, a bit soft if you were to define it, and warmer.

It wasn't until Wrecker pulled you upright once again that you realized that your fall had been broken by a shredded body. Dread washed over you as you saw the two other hunters who'd suffered the same fate, laying close by in a pool of their blood, missing some limbs.

You knew them. They never had a place in your heart, but you knew them nonetheless and would never have wished them to suffer like they did. You knew two of them had families waiting at home. Well. Maybe they weren't waiting, merely hoping that they would come back by some miracle.

Two feet away from a Kribat's preys was the worst place to be right now, but you couldn't move to another spot. Not with the howling Kribat right behind yours and Wrecker's hiding spot.

It was awfully close. Too close to your liking and way too angry to hope to survive its attacks if it were to find you.

Wrecker had you pressed to his chest by a hand right over your breast, detail that flashed into your mind although it was totally irrelevant. He was just stressed like you were. His hands simply reached for you in his haste and happened to find the friends-are-not-supposed-to-touch spot so you dropped it. At least he wasn't groping.

The ragged breathing of the feral beast passed as it reacted to a movement nearby, giving chase to the unfortunate creature. For a painful second, you thought that it might be one of your teammates, Tech and Hunter were out of view while Crosshair was peeking back to get a glimpse of the retreating beast.

Just as you tried to push away to see if the missing clones were around, Wrecker's hand pushed you more into himself, crushing your boobs like they were never crushed before.

"Everyone's okay." He informed you to keep you still, not releasing his grip. You hummed in acknowledgment.

"Wrecker." He hummed back, waiting for you to continue. "Hands off my boobs."

You've never seen a hand fly away as quickly as Wrecker's did. Yours didn't even move that fast when you accidentally put your hand on a lump of red coal and you remember having a good reflex then.

"Hands off what?" A harsh whisper in your right ear caused the demolition expert to sputter.

Apparently, the comlink in his helmet caught your voice.

"I didn't know Sarge!" He explained without any more delay. "Sorry Y/N."

He kept his free hand far from your body now that the danger has passed. It would have been hilarious if only you weren't at the lowest emotionally.

" 's fine Wrecker." You shrugged, unbothered by all of it and way too exhausted emotionally to care. It was an accident in the midst of action, nothing more, no need to create a whole drama because of it.

A piece of wood in the bloody mess caught your gaze. Your heart skipped a beat at the recognizable darker tint of the object, tonight was getting slightly better.

Crouching, you reached for the thick wood stick, fingers moving along the carvings etched into its length. Both in relief and satisfaction, you found the energy in yourself to smile.

"Found something?" Tech approached from your side, the remaining missing soldier in tow.

"Yeah. Most useful stealth weapon on this planet." You showed him the bloody bow, your other hand sliding your knife into its rightful place in your boot.

Rolling the body to the side respectfully, you checked for the quiver that you found still strapped to his back. Slowly, you pulled it over his head to pass it over yours.

"This is a fine piece of work." Despite his words, you could hear that he clearly would never use it to defend himself if he had the choice.

Taking back the weapon, you cleaned the grip and loaded an arrow, muscle memory doing a splendid job into positioning yourself perfectly in a flawless shooting stance. A sigh of relief almost escaped your lips at the feeling of finally being adequately armed.

"Think it will hurt them more than our blasters?" Crosshair gave you some extra arrows he found laying around, still unconvinced that wood sticks with metal points could surpass their own advanced technology.

"We'll know it now."

You frowned, quickly grabbing an arrow to arm the bow, pulled on the string while aiming over the engineer's shoulder and suddenly released the tension on the string, scaring the shit out of Tech but hitting your target perfectly.

The Algax screeched as the arrow hit it right where its left eye would be, retracting its dangerous talons reaching for the goggled clone to grab at its face.

The troopers jumped at the unexpected screech, although they recovered in record time, turning around, blasters at the ready. They only had time to shoot at its already retreating form.

"Don't lose that." Hunter turned around, pointing at the bow in your hands. "Now let's go." He urged everyone forward.

Quickly, you grabbed the arrows in Crosshair's hand and stored them with the others.

As you took your position back at the front, a hand softly grazed the small of your back, by possessiveness or just to ensure that you were alright, you weren't entirely sure. But Hunter's gesture was very much welcome.

The bow was a game-changer. The weapon may not be able to kill them, but it could very easily gain you some time when needed.

Now, if luck could still stick by your sides, the next useful thing you'd find was a shelter.

In the following hour, you managed to scare away the next 3 Algax you encountered with a single arrow neatly shot between the hollows where their eyes should be and avoided another Kribat.

Apparently, these two species were the main population of these parts of the jungle, it was a two-edged knife. The boys got used to hiding around the environment and knew how to react properly at an Algax jumping on them out of nowhere, but you knew those weren't the only danger around. Would they react adequately when a new monster presented itself?

Tech changed his opinion on your weapon, affirming that he'll have to build one himself, more technological of course, improved like he said. You kicked his shin at the 'less-primitive' insinuation behind his words.

"It's a great weapon that deserves respect Tech." You reprimanded, arrow pointing to the ground and ready to engage if needed.

"It does need improvements!" He countered on the defensive and he proceeded to explain what he would do to add more strength to the bow, allowing it to shoot further and at a greater impact.

Just as Hunter shushed the engineer, you heard your name being whispered in the distance. Fear tensed your muscles in apprehension, expecting claws to tear at your skin any second now. Time went on without any foes jumping out of the shadows, prompting you to continue your route with the others, passing it for the wind or a trick of your mind.

That is until everything went downhill.

"Do you guys hear that?" Wrecker suddenly asked, immediately catching everyone's attention.

Silence followed, seconds after seconds passed in utter silence until, "That! Heard that?"

"No." Hunter stopped the group to ensure that they weren't missing something important.

"Wrecker, what is it? What do you hear?" A cold sweat ran down your spine, already knowing what he was going to say but praying otherwise. This couldn't be happening.

"It's 99." Even without knowing who was 99, you knew that it would end badly, there was too much raw worry in his voice to calm him down in so little time. "He's in danger Sarge!"

"No! Don't listen to it!" You jumped out to grab his armor, his hand, his blaster, anything really, not that your small muscles would have been able to stop the bear of a man anyway but your body thought it could.

He was unexpectedly fast for someone his size, easily dodging your hand to push through his brothers like they were nothing. He ran like a desperate man chasing a dream and it hit you like a punch to the face. This was exactly it. His most desperate dream finally came true to haunt him.

As you expected, the boys were on his tail in a heartbeat.

But as you ran after them, you realized that for a team comm that should be flooding in orders for Wrecker to stop and pleas for him to understand that this was a trick, it was dreadfully quiet.

Your blood froze in your veins as soon as realization dawned on you like a an ice cold bath.

They all believed it.

#bad batch x reader #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #wrecker x reader #hunter x reader #clone force 99 #star wars #clone wars #good night good luck #sergeant hunter #angst

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the-currian · 3 years ago

Text

T7!

lmao this entire fic is full of inside jokes. originally made for the Filo A3!/Genshin discord I’m a part of as part of the server bang. it’s already been uploaded there, so i decided to fix it up a bit and upload it here as well^^

i may not be active anymore in the server; i’m more of a lurker now, but i’d like to dedicate this to the server members. you guys gave me lots of good times and things to smile about & look forward to during a time when i was trying to pick myself up. thank you <3

One event that Izumi brushes off as the daily shenanigans that come along with being the director of the Mankai Company has a bigger impact on her actors than she thought.

or:

The director is clueless to the thirst/advances of the company. The troupes struggle. The director remains oblivious.

It all started with a towel.

Living in a dorm along with over twenty young men, surely there would be no shortage of needs for day-to-day life… or so Izumi thought. Staring at her reflection in the bathroom’s mirror has made her realize that perhaps she’d overestimated the dorm’s supplies.

‘Maybe if I’m quiet enough, no one will notice me sneaking back to my room.’ She thinks to herself in dismay, tugging at the bath towel that just barely covered the more…indecent parts of her body.

‘It’s just my luck that my bathroom sprung a leak.’

Thus, Izumi was forced to use one of the communal bathrooms shared by the actors. Of course, she’d made it abundantly clear that no one was allowed to go in while she made use of the actors’ facilities (Izumi’s also fairly sure that Sakyo had stressed that no one was allowed even remotely near the communal bathroom while she were there) but the thought of walking back to her room with nothing but a towel on made her anxiety skyrocket.

‘I should’ve just waited for my own shower to be fixed.’

Being too used to having her own private bathroom, Izumi had developed the habit of only grabbing a towel from a cabinet before heading off into the showers since it’s directly connected to her room. Why bother bringing new clothes into the bathroom and risk getting them wet when she could just change in her own bedroom?

Obviously that logic was null in this scenario – what with the trek she now has to make back to her room from the communal showers, and only in a towel! Moreover, the towel was obviously intended for only covering the lower half of men, if the short length was anything to go by.

Mulling it over, Izumi weighs the pros and cons of walking through the dorm’s corridors in only a towel to shield herself, then allows herself a few minutes to sulk over the decision made. Taking a deep breath, Izumi steels herself before slowly creaking open the bathroom door, peeking for any bystanders. Seeing none, she carefully tiptoes back to her room.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

As she makes her way through, Izumi feel like every step echoes throughout the halls and she instinctively tightens her grip on the towel, desperately trying to draw it tighter and more securely around her. Thankfully, Izumi is able to make it to her room without incident – she really needs to thank Sakyo for clearing the area later – when suddenly, as her room is less than a meter away, a shadow darts into her field of vision.

Already tense and on edge from the situation she found herself in, Izumi lets out an ear-splitting shriek and all hell breaks loose.

Footsteps come thundering her way and Izumi’s brain short-circuits as the whole company suddenly appears in the corridors, all of them calling out “director” or various other namesakes in worried tones.

Izumi struggles to form a coherent sentence to tell them that she’s fine and for all of them to stay the hell away please and thank you, when the shadow from earlier who she now identifies as Misumi in the middle of a triangle hunt cheerfully calls out,

“Oh, director! Did you have a nice bath?”

The corridor goes eerily quiet, and Izumi feel several pairs of eyes focused on her state of dress – or lack thereof, rather.

Masumi and several other of the younger members faint almost instantly. Most of the adults’ faces flush bright red as they stammer out apologies, while some others politely avert their eyes.

One thing is for certain.

The entire company is suddenly reminded that their director is in fact a very attractive, very single, woman.

As all the men seem to be distracted by their own mental turmoil, Izumi takes the opportunity to slip into her room. After making sure the door is securely locked, she deflates and slides down against the door. The shuffling of footsteps fades away, signaling the company members’ retreat, and Izumi’s mind takes its sweet time to process what just occurred.

Once again, the Mankai dorms are filled with Izumi’s ear-splitting shriek, only this time the members are wise enough to leave her be.

By dinnertime, Izumi figures she’s calmed down enough to let bygones be bygones.

“Thanks for the food!” she forces herself to say in a cheery manner, tight-lipped smile giving her away.

She’s honestly still feeling a bit apprehensive by the stares she receives over the dining table, but her actors fall back into an easy conversation. Izumi, on the other hand, finds herself half-heartedly poking the eggplant tempura that she normally eats with gusto as a side dish to her beloved curry. Something about the atmosphere makes her feel uneasy as if there’s some sort of unspoken tension that everyone but she has figured out.

Again, Izumi feels everyone’s eyes on her as she abruptly stands up. In her haste, the chair screeches against the floor and her tableware clatters noisily, making herself the unwanted center of attention.

“I…I’m not feeling that hungry tonight.” Izumi mutters, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Mustering up the last of her dignity, Izumi shuffles out of the room and goes straight to her bedroom, making sure the door locks.

Unbeknownst to her, mere minutes after she’d cleared the vicinity, Sakyo abruptly calls for an all-troupes-on-deck meeting. After clearing the dining area, the large group of young men make their way over to the living room and try their best to get comfortable amongst one another, the room suddenly feeling very cramped with everyone in the room at the same time.

In front of them all, the only one standing, Sakyo paces back and forth as he strategizes the best course of action to approach the situation. He comes to a sudden halt and the group’s attention is immediately focused on Sakyo, with the younger ones’ backs stiffening as they straighten up in an unconscious sign of deference.

“We do not speak of the incident that happened earlier this morning.” Sakyo’s voice comes out quietly but threateningly as he levels a glare at each and every occupant of the room. “We make the director feel as safe as possible in our presence. Got it?”

Not bothering to wait for a response, Sakyo stalks out of the room. Slowly, the actors disperse and go about their usual nightly activities, but fuelled by the reminder of the spectacle that had occurred that morning gave them some other plans in mind.

“Tangina mo, Banri.” Itaru swears under his breath as his character is suddenly left for dead in the middle of a space station. The culprit was none other than Banri, who had Itaru and the other players in the server fooled.

“What was that, Chigasaki?” Chikage questions with mild interest from his side of the room.

Itaru takes out his phone and opens up another game to play as he waits for Banri to inevitably win as the impostor in the game.

“Playing a game with some strangers online. Picked up some lingo from these Filo players that Banri and I happen to clash against a lot.” Itaru elaborates with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“Hm. I do wonder how you or Settsu intend to win the director over when all you do is mess around in those games of yours.”

Itaru’s fingers hover over his phone screen for a split second as he processes the older man’s words.

“…Excuse me?”

“You are aware of what the... ah, towel incident this morning has caused, aren’t you?”

“Sakyo already told us to not bring it up.” Itaru says calmly, but Chikage notices his roommate’s ears redden at the reminder, and is pleased to see that his goading has its intended effect.

“Of course.” Chikage concedes. “However, the younger members of the troupe can be quite rash.”

Itaru lightly drops his phone onto his desk and runs his fingers through his hair as he grudgingly turns to his roommate. Itaru hastily ties his bangs away from his face and levels what he hopes is a neutral stare at Chikage.

“Not my job to keep the kids’ thirsting under control.” He says, then turns back to face his monitor.

“I suppose…”

With that, Itaru starts playing his game again as the subject matter is dropped.

“But perhaps it’s not the kids you should be worrying about.”

…or so he thought.

Again, Itaru takes the bait and bites out, “What exactly are you trying to say, senpai?”

Chikage changes his expression into one of feigned innocence. “Nothing, really. Ah, I do hope you don’t mind having curry for lunch tomorrow. The director and I will be cooking together all morning.”

Itaru is about to stand up and retort, fed up with Chikage’s subtle remarks, when a loud noise blares from Itaru’s computer, causing him to curse and swiftly turn back to his screen. “Shit, you’re distracting me from my game. Do me a favor and go back to being the absentee roommate for a while.”

With an amused chuckle, Chikage acquiesces to his roommate’s request and heads out, closing the door behind him.

Itaru slumps back against his chair as soon as the older man is gone and puts on his headset. Taking a quick glance back before clicking it on, he speaks in a low voice,

“Hey, director, sorry for muting my mici. Let’s get back to the game, shall we?”

The next morning, Chikage walks into the kitchen with a special bag of spices in hand. However, seeing another member of the company already in the kitchen with the director has him narrowing his eyes and his mouth curving down in displeasure.

“So first we have to roast the eggplant before we dip it in the egg?” Izumi asks her companion.

Chikage takes in the sight of Omi leaning in quite close behind the director with the excuse of supervising her work, and a twinge of annoyance bothers him.

“That’s right.” Omi confirms, drawing even closer to Izumi as he points to the long, purple fruit. “But before that, we peel the skin off after it’s done roasting.”

The tall college student is practically caging Izumi as both hands reach from either side of her to demonstrate how to peel the eggplant. At this, Chikage decides to make his presence known.

“I was under the impression that it would only be the two of us making lunch, director.” he butts in, frown replaced with a sharp smile.

“Oh, Chikage!” Izumi calls out as she casually slips out of Omi’s arms, oblivious to the pout on Omi’s face as she does so. “Don’t worry! We’re still making curry for lunch. It’s just that Tasuku got a bunch of eggplants from helping out at a farm, so we’ve been trying to figure out different ways to cook them. I believe this dish is called tortang talong? Anyway, Omi insisted that he help me out with lunch today! I hope you don’t mind.”

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, Chikage.” Omi echoes, looking completely unapologetic as he says so.

Not one to back down, Chikage completely ignores the younger man’s backhanded apology and instead turns his attention to the director.

“Here.” he says, holding the bag of spices out to Izumi. As she takes the bag from Chikage, his hands linger on hers for much longer than strictly necessary, causing her grip on the bag to fumble. A blush quickly creeps onto Izumi’s face.

“Th-thanks.” She stammers, hastily pulling her hands back as soon as she’s gotten a firm hold on the bag of spices.

The three adults cook in the kitchen with an awkward silence that Izumi just can’t figure out the root of. An unspoken tension looms over and she can’t bring herself to speak up. Lost in her thoughts, Izumi picks up a roasted eggplant then yelps at the heat of the newly roasted fruit, burning herself. Before Izumi can act, Omi grasps her wrist, inspecting her hand.

“Be careful, alright?” he says gently, guiding Izumi over to the sink and sticking her hand under the running faucet.

Izumi involuntarily shivers, and she’s not so sure if it’s because of the temperature of the cold water or if it’s because of the tender way that Omi handles her.

“Let Omi and I take care of the rest, director.” Chikage’s voice comes out harshly, snapping Izumi out of her thoughts. He hands her an ice pack and she takes it with a grateful smile.

“That’s probably for the best.” Izumi agrees, then turns off the faucet. As she leaves the kitchen and heads over to the living room, Izumi can feel the tension from earlier return tenfold and quickly hightails it out of there, deciding that she didn’t want to know, nor did she want to get caught up in the crossfire.

“So it’s curry again today, huh.” Tenma says dejectedly as he settles at the dining table.

Most of the other company members mumble the same sentiment but ultimately sit down.

Citron’s eyes light up as he spots the other food dish on the table. “Not to worry, everyone! It appears we are also having Tasuku’s eggplant for lunch!”

Several of the actors give Citron a blank stare.

“Somehow, that just doesn’t sound right.” Taichi says, and Juza nods in agreement.

“Oh, director! What happened to your hand?” Tsumugi blurts out, immediately picking up on the strange way Izumi held her chopsticks.

Izumi blanches and reflexively cradles her hand to her chest, closing herself off from the young men to spare them from worry. “It’s nothi–“

“Izumi accidentally burned herself while preparing lunch.” Chikage immediately speaks over her.

“Uwah!” Muku cries out. “Director, you shouldn’t be using your hand, then! You might irritate the wound and then it might get worse and then you’ll have to retire from being director because your–“

“Hey, hey, chillax!” Kazunari reins in Muku before he can start spiralling into catastrophizing Izumi’s minor dilemma. “The solution is obvious, Mukkun! All I have to do is feed Izumi her lunch! Her dinner, too, probs!”

“If anyone is feeding the director, it’s gonna be me.” Masumi asserts.

“Now hold on a minute. “ Izumi begins to protest.

“Fufufu~ How about it, director?” Azuma says, offering his own eggplant to Izumi with his chopsticks.

The dining room is quickly filled with the clamor of various members insisting that they be the one to feed the director her lunch.

“Boys, settle down!” Izumi yells over the cacophony of voices. At the authority in her tone, the young men back down and turn their attention to Izumi. “No one is going to be feeding me my lunch but myself.”

“But director, I must insist that we protect your hand from–“ Homare insists, then cuts himself off as he shrinks back from Izumi’s intense glare.

“I’ll just eat with my other hand using a fork.” She says before turning to Sakyo. “Sakyo, if you’d be so kind, could you cut my food into smaller pieces for me?”

“What a kid.” He grouses, but obliges to Izumi’s request, a triumphant glow in his eyes as he challengingly looks at the other members who are about to protest.

With the problem solved and the members (relatively) under control, lunch proceeds as normal – well, as normal as possible – for the Mankai Company.

“I’m really sorry to bother you two like this.” Izumi addresses the two men in her room later that afternoon. “I know I should probably get a professional to do this, but I just don’t want a repeat of yesterday happening anytime soon.”

All three occupants of the room’s faces heat up at the reminder.

“It’s fine.” Tasuku mumbles, determinedly looking at anywhere but Izumi.

“Right!” Tsuzuru chimes in, eyebrow twitching in betrayal of his true emotions. “Since Tasuku and I are both used to doing odd jobs, this’ll be a cinch.”

“Alright, then.” Izumi says, then opens the door to her bathroom, ushering the two young men inside. Tasuku and Tsuzuru take wary steps, toolboxes in hand, feeling a bit apprehensive about invading Izumi’s private space.

“Go ahead.” Izumi encourages, noticing their stiff posture. “I have nothing to hide! No dead bodies or horses or any other weird things like that.” She jokes, hoping to lighten up the atmosphere.

Neither of the actors deign to give her a response, and instead set down their toolboxes, pulling out wrenches, screwdrivers, flashlights, and the like to figure out and solve the leakage.

Izumi silently watches as the two men deftly handle the tools. She finds herself entranced by the way their arms slightly flex while their fingers nimbly maneuver their tools as they tinker away at her shower.

Realizing her train of thought, Izumi lightly slaps her cheeks as she feels a blush rising to her face.

‘Get a hold of yourself! They’re just here to fix your shower–‘

Izumi’s mind comes to a screeching halt as Tasuku lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe some sweat off of his brow, unknowingly (?) allowing her to catch a glimpse of his abs. Similarly affected by the heat as they work, Tsuzuru rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, showing off his lean arm muscles along with the veins that slightly protrude from his forearms as they flex whilst working.

“I-I’ll leave you to it, then!” Izumi barely manages to squeak out, face glowing bright red, before fleeing the bathroom.

Tasuku and Tsuzuru spare a quick glance back at her retreating figure before going back to work, identical smirks on their smug faces.

Later that evening, Izumi’s shower is fixed without incident and she’s ready to relax after all the shenanigans of the day.

‘Nothing like a hot shower to wash the stress away before going to bed.’

This time, she makes sure to check the towel’s length, ensuring it’s long enough to cover all the important bits. After a few seconds of contemplation, she also grabs a bathrobe.

‘Just in case…’

Izumi lazily undresses herself before settling under the stream of warm, steaming water. A satisfied mewl escapes her lips as she feels herself unwind, her body relaxing in the warmth of the shower.

She allows herself a few minutes of comfortable silence in the shower before grabbing her shampoo to start lathering when the water suddenly turns ice cold. Her eyes widen at the sensation as she instinctively jumps away and lets out a screech.

Within seconds, the actors’ footsteps thunder down the corridor over to Izumi’s room. A sense of déjà vu comes over her as she hears several shouts of, “Director, are you okay?!” and “What’s going on?!”, coupled with loud banging on her (thankfully) locked door.

Izumi lets out an exasperated groan.

‘I knew I should’ve just gotten a professional to fix the shower.’

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