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levixreader · 3 years

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Levi x K-pop! Reader - It's not what it looks like - Chapter IV

Summary: Did he... Kiss you? Based on @cakeswashere KISS CAM prompt: x

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It's not what it looks like

《 Chapter IV》

It had been a long day at the office. This month had proven a little overwhelming, R.I.E, three months before, had bought a small marketing firm in order to integrate it into its ecosystem. Every month without fault there was some kind of miscommunication with them that resulted in some sort of internal problem. And who had to fix it? Him, it was always him. He would have stayed later at the office if he hadn’t made plans with you.

He looked down at the tickets in his hand; You’d gotten floor seats.

“Did you find her?”, Hange asked. He didn’t answer instead his eyes wandered around trying to locate you. There you were. Sitting, one leg hammering the floor, your face glued to your phone. He smirked, “There”, he said pointing his nose at you. “My Queen!”, Hange screamed waving ferociously. He saw your face detach from your phone, your eyes scanning for Hange’s voice. You couldn’t locate them, his smirk deepened as he scooting into the row, Hange trailing behind him.

When he reached you, he took a second to look at you. You were wearing a short thing that hiked up way too high up your thighs. His eyes lingered on your legs, they looked smooth. Without even thinking about it, he took off his leather jacket, throwing it brusquely on your lap. This visibly startled you, your eyes looking up to him riddled in confusion; your face half shaded by your cap. His expression was neutral. He looked good; his dress shirt looked a bit wrinkled, his sleeves rolled up. He probably came straight from the office. Of course, you knew that he had been dealing with a particularly tricky absorption. You smiled up at him, he didn’t correspond, simply stared. “My Queen, hello!”, greeted Hange, poking her head from behind Levi’s shoulder. He rolled his eyes and sat down.

You looked striking.

He wasn’t the only one who had noticed. It felt like the whole section around your little trio was pointing and taking pictures. Hange sat at your other side. He felt pleased, at least you wouldn’t be sitting next to a stranger. Sometimes you could be quite dense, like now, you were chatting away with Hange about some new singer, seemingly unaware of the lustful eyes around you.

He didn’t like it.

There was little he could do but glare when he felt the person too close to your seats. He sank into his chair, already feeling a bit riled up, being in the public eye was adding to his stress. He crossed his arms in front of his chest not really in the mood to engage in conversation. This didn’t seem to be a problem for you, too busy waving at nearby fans, smiling without a care in the world as people pointed and treated you like some kind of display. They could at least have the decency to leave you alone on your time off. Hange was no help, she was basking in the attention, poking you so that you would look across the court at gaping fans desperately trying to catch your eye. He was getting a little frustrated. Feeling a bit antsy, he took out his phone reading unnecessary emails. That would keep him distracted. Why did he come? This was far from a good idea.

He briefly looked at your lap, his jacket covering your lap. He couldn’t even begin to think the mess that would spur from that little act. Sure, the media now knew you were strictly just friends and that you actually went out together in a platonic way. But they hadn’t seen you in public, there were no pictures. Everything was just retellings of people who had seen you together like at the bar, the other day. He groaned quickly typing an email to PR.

Stop any stupid pictures from leaking.

It sounded threatening. “Serves them right”, he thought sending the short message. They had enough to prepare for what the media would do seeing you and him in public. He wasn’t completely delusional, he understood that not everything could be blocked but, this much they could and would do. After the hell that had been your little crowd diving, they needed to remind him why he paid them the exorbitant amounts of money they billed him monthly.

Contrary to what the media was spitting out, you and he weren’t all that different. There was a reason you were… friends. As had become painfully obvious, you both had a love for the same kind of food and wine, not to mention concertos. That first dinner, he had mentioned his favourite composer in passing, but you latched on to that for the rest of dinner. He hadn’t been able to talk to someone so thoroughly in a very long time. Perhaps that’s what made him venture into inviting you to a concerto. And boy was he glad he had. That had been the most pleasant of your surprises; that you shared so much in common with him. You even recommended a few modern composers that he had dismissed years before. And what’s worse? You had been right.

The one difference? He could never get used to how public you were. Even If the media didn’t publish any pictures of the two of you together, they always knew where and with who you were. Storied came a mile a minute with so many listed sources that he couldn’t possibly track them all down and shut them up. That had never happened to him. He was well known at best, but people barely knew who he was because he rarely showed his face. Recently, however, that had changed. He couldn’t go to his usual tea shop anymore without at least someone taking a picture of him. He knew why it was happening, but, if that was the price to have you close, he would gladly pay it.

He sighed, reclining further into his seat. He didn’t even like basketball, except, you had looked so proud holding the tickets. Your voice was so hopeful that he would come. He had stayed the afternoon watching videos to at least understand the game somewhat.

“Sorry”, you whispered at him. His eyes lazily looked at you, his face still facing forward. “For what?”, he asked a little taken aback. “I know you’re not exactly a fan”, you said apologetically. “Hmm”, he answered his eyes returning to watch the court. “I didn’t tell you this”, you said still whispering. The only indication that he was listening was his raised eyebrow, “but I also got us tickets for Yann Tiersen”, she said her voice dripping with excitement, “but I only managed to get two”, you explained further. Ahh, this is why.

Hange liked basketball. You didn’t want her to feel left out. “Then why am I here?”, he asked his voice deep and velvety. It made you feel as if butterflies had hatched in your stomach. “Well,” you said licking your lips, “I didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t understand what is going on”. He smiled, startling again the butterflies. He chuckled, covering his mouth with one of his hands. “Speak for yourself”, he answered playfully. “PASS THE BALL!”, Hange screamed, “PASS.IT”, she yelled. Both of you turned to watch her, frown in place, eyes glued at the court. You chuckled, his eyes now on you, he smiled. Perhaps basketball wasn’t that boring of a sport.

* * *

It had been a long fifteen minutes; too many noises, people hailing, complaining, everything had to be a scream. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the game, he kept getting distracted by your knees occasionally knocking into his. Every time without fault he would jolt to attention. You seemed to not notice at all; your attention fully on the game. This somewhat irritated him.

You were always like this, he knew you didn’t particularly enjoy basketball, in fact, he would bet his right leg that you didn’t even know any players besides LeBron James; but, like anything you did, you always got weirdly excited just immersed yourself in it despite your lack of interest. He had already seen you make your small hands into tiny fists and shaking them whenever the yellow team made a point. It was cute.

He sighed looking down at his phone, they were finally taking a break from the game and he could check on the emails that had already accumulated in the short period of time since he last checked. His thumb scrolled reading the latest proposal for budget from the marketing department; they were asking for, yet again, another increase in budget. He frowned, the overwhelming chatter around him dying down.

Something felt off.

He could feel the whole court staring his way. He turned to check on you. You were looking down at your lap fiddling with his jacket. You were nervous, his eyes narrowed. He could make out a pink tint colouring your cheeks. “Also embarrassed”, he noted. His eyes shifted to Hange, she was staring wide eyes mouth opened. His eyebrow rose in confusion. The fuck was going on.

“Well?!” Came a voice from behind him, “kiss her!”, the voice screamed.

He could have choked.

His eyes were fully alert, he twisted his body to turn to see who the fuck was talking. “The fuck?”, he asked annoyed. “Yeah! KISS HER!”, it was a woman this time. He quickly turned to see her. “KISS HER!”, yet another. “Kiss her!”, “kiss her!”, the crowd began to chant.

“It’s the kiss cam!”, mouthed Hange. He immediately relaxed. He looked up at the massive screens, sure enough. There was a heart-shaped filter focused on you and him, “kiss cam” scribbled at the bottom. Raising both hands and crossing them in an “x” shape at whoever was filming him. A chorus of boos echoed through the court. He sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest and sinking into the chair again.

He looked up at the screens, a failed animation playing. He sighed, the camera turning to another couple. “Calm down, it left”, he whispered. You nodded, unable to speak; your cheeks still flushed. His eyes scanned over your figure, they glimmered with curiosity. Smirking, he returned his gaze back to his phone, “Good”, he thought.

* * *

Yet another break came.

Finally, half time.

He just needed to get through another two breaks.

As he had decided, he took out his phone yet again, reading the budgeting proposal; they were finally making some sense. It looked coherent and well structured, they hadn’t asked an exorbitant amount either.

“Levi”, he heard Hange call out. Unwillingly, he twisted to look at the woman. “Look!”, she mouthed pointing at the goliath of a screen. He groaned, there he was, frown displayed on TV with you next to him, “KISS CAM”, written in big bold purple letters. He could see you blushing even from the low-quality camera pointed at the both of you.

“Just do it”, Hange said making you flinch. His eyes narrowed at your response. “Common! Kiss her man!”, someone screamed. “Yeah, kiss the girl!!!”, “Kiss her!”, “Don’t be a pussy! Kiss!”.

The previous chant echoing throughout the court, “Kiss her! Kiss her!”.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole, bones included, being rejected on national TV was pretty embarrassing. Did he not want to kiss you? Had this tension between the both of you simply been in your head? You wanted him to kiss you. You wanted him to want to kiss you.

“Fuck it”, you heard Levi whisper. Callous hands cupped your cheeks, softly guiding your head to face him. Steal grey eyes greeted you, his nose next to yours.

And then…

You felt it.

His lips came soft, barely gracing yours. The front of his bangs tickling lightly your cheeks. His eyes were half-lidded, avoiding your shocked irises. You couldn’t move. It had been so fleeting you that you could have missed it. You blinked, feeling the warmth leave your lips.

His face retreated from yours, his body returning casually to his seat.

You simply stared, too surprised to react.

Your stomach somersaulted, a faint ringing sound covering your ears; loud enough that you barely registered the crowed erupting in cheer and whistles.

His lips had been soft.

Your hand reached up to your lips, your fingertips touching gently your lower lip.

He kissed you.

Heat. Your cheeks coloured gently turning peach.

You didn’t say a word.

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idnek83 · 4 years

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i have decided that both kazuichi and gundham are terrible at seeking medical attention for themselves if they need it. they both think it's no big deal and it'll be fine so they just, like. ignore it. kazuichi breaks his finger in the garage and just keeps working and like 6 days later he tells mikan "hey my finger hurts" and she's like "?!" gundham does the same with animal bites, just washes em off and wraps em in bandages like sir you need stitches. anyway once they get together they never let the other get away with an injury, and will do the most to make sure even the smallest scratch is taken care of

They’re both disasters on their own, but once they start dating they almost become one whole functional person haha

Soda comes home one day and Gundham’s just sitting on the couch reading a book. He goes to cuddle up with him cus he’s tired but then he notices there is blood leaking through Gundham’s arm bandages?? Gundham’s like ‘it’s fine, I just got bit by a stray dog earlier, because she was scared and protecting her puppies’ and Soda’s like ?????? Did you even clean it? When Gundham says he cleaned it with water, Soda drags him to the bathroom where they keep their rubbing alcohol an unbandages it and it’s, just, so much worse than he thought it would be. He does his best to clean it while Gundham insists it’s no big deal and then Soda sends a picture to Mikan and she’s like “Please!! Get stiches!! I’m begging you!! 😭” and Soda’s like “see dumbass?”

They get Hajime to drive them to the hospital (Soda can’t drive cus motion sickness, and he doesn’t want Gundham to drive with a bad arm, even if he insists he’s fine). On the way Hajime is like ��I’m kind of surprised you’re the one telling Gundham to go to the hospital’ and Soda’s like ‘What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’d just let him suffer? Fuck you.’ and Hajimes like ‘No, but remember that time you broke two of your fingers after dropping an engine on them and didn’t even think about going to the hospital for like a week? And then you only went cus I made you and they were starting to get too swollen for you to do your work?’

Gundham is just like ‘Excuse me? You did what? How could you be so careless! You could have done serious long term damage to yourself!’ and Soda is just really embarrassed and is like ‘Well at least I wasn’t bleeding out like you are!’

They get into a little fight about how careless the other one is and Hajime is just rolling his eyes the whole way to the hospital.

Gundham gets stiches and they put him on an iv with antibiotics cus, surprise, the bite is infected. He should be fine but they decide to keep him over night just incase (Soda insists on staying the night too of course). The doctor also makes a point to tell Gundham that he shouldn’t have waited so long to come in, the dog could have had any number of diseases and if the infection had really set in, he could have lost his arm, or worse.

Once the nurses are done getting Gundham all set up, him and Soda just kind of sit quietly for a while, and their both embarrassed and a little upset. Eventually Soda just reaches out and holds Gundham’s good hand and says ‘I’m sorry I freaked out, but I was just really worried, and I wish you would take better care of yourself, especially since this could have been really serious.’ Gundham is like ‘I’m sorry too, and I promise I’ll try to take better care of myself in the future, but you have to promise to do the same. No more week old broken fingers.’ and they both just smile at each other and Soda stands up so he can lean over and give Gundham a kiss to seal their promise.

After that they get better at treating the more significant wounds they get, but Gundham still needs reminders that he should be sanitizing every scratch or bite he gets from an animal, and Soda still manages to fracture a finger and not really notice for a few days haha

Hajime and Mikan are just thankful Soda and Gundham don’t have children lol

#Soudam #replies #pippiexe #Soudam ramblings #fluff

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targsdaenerys · 4 years

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the 100 fans please read

sorry but in the next few weeks im going to be blocking any tag that has to do with the 100. if bellamy miraculously is still alive someone can come into my inbox and tell me and i may rethink but we all know that Will Not happen.

i didnt read the leaks that presumably are among the ones that bellamy’s death was leaked in, but i just saw a rundown, and i really cant handle seeing that.

i did the same thing with Daenerys of the GOT series finale--i have yet to watch her death scene and that saved me from a lot more emotional instability than what i had to face watching her become mad.

the episode last night was my last time watching the 100 unless someone gives me a reason.

this can go for you too. dont feel obligated to finish this show out if you dont think you can handle the worst. because the worst is probably what we are going to get.

ive been watching since season 2--trust, me i know how it probably feels to think about abandoning it now, so close to the finish. but you do not owe this show ANYTHING. literally nothing.

if thats not what you want to believe, who am i to tell you differently, but im just telling you from my own experience with Game of Thrones....trust me. to know that it happened is enough. you do not need to watch it. do what is right for you now, not what others are expecting you to do. not even what your past self-- that person being a week ago or seven years -- would want you to do.

only take what you know you can handle. it stabs deep. i lost weight last may because i couldnt eat for almost a month. but a lot of my healing process tailed onto the fact that i didn't have the scene replaying in the back of my mind when trying to cope.

do. whats. right. for. you.

and PLEASE come into my messages if you need it. i am practically begging, if you need help-- i know what you are feeling, and i know others in your lie probably cant understand what you are going through. ive been this person way too many times within the past year and a half. you are not alone.

#bellarke #bellamy blake #the 100 #clarke griffin #ill probably be blacklisting right before the episode wednesday #just in case something happen this week

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shannygoatgruff · 4 years

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My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter IX

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA

Overall Warning: Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.

Chapter Warning: Drug use, talk of spiraling out of control

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other. Boys will be boys…

Chapter IX

Why the fuck am I watching the news? This is what flipping through channels gets me. I should have never stopped when I saw this bitch’s face. I fucking hate her.

Now, I either want to put my fist through the TV or pull my damn hair out.

Fuck, I hate this bitch! She’s no different from the rest of these news assholes. Always trying to dig up some shit that should be left alone. Putting all of our personal business on blast like that...pieces of shit. And this whore is the worst of them. She's purposely trying to make Ivar and I look bad.

"Police are trying to find a common thread between these murders. The victims have all been found in remote areas throughout the county. The coroner reports each victim showed signs of sexual trauma and or torture, pre- or post-mortem. While police have no suspects, in these killings, they do believe they are all connected and have been committed by the same perpetrator. Witnesses to the last two victims’ disappearances have described seeing a Caucasian male, between the ages of 18-35, approximately 5’8” – 6’2”, medium build, with medium to dark hair, leaving with the victims. If you have any information about these victims or the suspect, please call Detective Torstein, Homicide." The white numbers for the police station flash on the screen under this bitch’s face.

“You fucking cunt!” I don’t know what just fell to the floor as I kicked the coffee table in front of the couch. She has no right to show fucking pictures and the names of our past guests. But, I’ll be damned, if they are there. All the ones from this month: Halfdan, Porunn, Astrid, and Erlendur. None of them looked like that when we met them. Then, they were all slutted up and ready to please. But looking at these pictures, they look like they’re a part of a fucking church choir.

You bitch!

But, fuck you news-lady, you forgot one. You forgot about that girl we met at the concert. I almost did. At least, I can keep one of those special nights sacred without you fucking it all up and turning it into some freak show for these news groupies to salivate over.

Shit, I just wish I could remember that whole night.

I can only remember meeting her and bringing her back to the cabin. I remember she was a great lay, and that looked fucking amazing. But that’s it. Every time I try to remember what we did, or how many times we did it or anything else, there’s like a blank spot. I don’t know if Ivar got to try anything new with her, or what.

Ivar said I blacked out, again. Did she pass out before or after he got to her? Did she try to escape? Did he punish her long and hard for that? Did she cooperate and he let her go? Is that why she wasn’t on this little photo lineup? What the fuck I am saying? He wouldn’t’ve done that shit. They just haven't found her body, yet.

That bitch reporter is smiling again. She's enjoying all the fucking lies and the smear campaign that she’s creating against us. "Stay tuned for more information on these murders as they become available. Judith Wessex, reporting, Action 10 News."

"Lying bitch!" Just the look on her face and the sound of her voice is driving me crazy. She doesn't know us. She has no right to say those kinds of things about us. Nobody tortured or brutalized anybody. It was all in fun. They were into it.

Ivar takes the remote from my hand and tucks it into his palm, "You don't need to watch this." He's been extra protective since I woke up in his bed. I can't do anything. He must have really been scared after this last blackout because he won't let anything upset me. Changing the channel, he settles on something non-threatening; Property Brothers. He knows I love that show. "There. That's better."

"I'm fine, Ivar,” I lie, “that bitch on the news just got under my skin.” I reach over to pick up the ashtray – when did I start smoking so much? I’m already on my second pack today and I’ve only been awake since noon.

"I know you are. But you get bothered so easily. I just want you to take it easy." His smooth voice caresses my ears and instantly gives me goosebumps on my arms. But he knows the damage is already done. Standing behind me, he holds his arms out on either side of my head, with his fists out in front of me. “Left or right? Pick one.”

I have no idea what’s in his hands, but since we’re both right-handed, I nod toward his right hand. He tilts my head back so I’m looking up at him. “Open up.” I obediently do as I’m told and feel three pills of varying size hit my tongue.

He quickly places a kiss on my forehead as I sit up to swallow the pills dry. Turning in my seat, I watch as he drops the pills from his left hand into his mouth. He holds his tongue out for me to see his four pills before his tongue darts back into his mouth.

“What was that?” I try to swallow hard enough to make the pills slide down my throat. Hopefully, it’s something that’ll make me stop wanting to throw this fucking television out of the window.

Ivar shrugs and smiles, “Fuck if I know. I found them in my coat pocket. Guess we’ll find out shortly.” He picks up the dishtowel that he had sat down on the back of the couch and slings it over his shoulder, "Anyway, Serk, that shit that reporter said wasn't true. She's just trying to fuck with us. Trying to make us slip up." He starts to walk out of the room but stops and turns around with a huge smile. "Maybe we should party with her." His smile immediately fades when he sees how upset she's made me. "Awe, brother… don't worry about that bitch. I'll kill her if you want."

"They know what we look like, Ives."

"How many white guys are there in the world, Serk? They can’t even agree on my goddamn hair color.” He leans against the wall and folds his arms across his chest. “I took care of everything. No one knows. No one will ever find out." There is such honesty and power in his voice that I can’t help but trust that he believes this. I know he wouldn’t chance anything getting in the way of the life that we've built together.

But, there’s still that part of me that fears that our world is about to come crashing down around us. What would I do if I didn’t have this outlet or God forbid they took Ivar away from me?

"I can't handle this shit anymore. Fucking bitch reporters are lying on us. Stupid fucking cops are trying to dig shit up and sticking their pig noses where they don't belong." Everything as of late is running through my mind. This use to be so much fun, but now everyone else is fucking it up. "Something wrong with me. My blackouts are getting worse. We went out and I can't remember it. I can't remember jack shit from the past week! Who the fuck blacks out for a whole week? How long can I go on like this before something really fucked up happens?"

It feels like my throat is closing and I’m starting to sweat. My heart rate is speeding up and I think I’m about to die. I can’t breathe. Jesus, why does Ivar put up with me when I'm like this? "I'm fucking up at work. Fucking Ub is gonna come here and start asking questions. Thora’s gonna fucking leave me. You're gonna get tired of taking care of me! Shit's just all fucked up." I sit forward with my arms on my thighs and try to catch my breath. I try so hard not to give into the fear, but fuck if I'm not feeling it leak out of my pores.

This is why I need Ivar. Thora could never handle me like this. I can't even handle me when I get like this. "I don't know how much more I can take, Ivy. I can't do this shit, no more! I can't." All the air I’m trying to gulp in isn’t helping at the moment.

Standing before me with a concerned look on his face, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. "Hvitserk Ragnarsson." And there it is - that voice that I fucking hate. That voice Father used to keep us in line. Ivar rarely uses that voice, but when he does it immediately gets my attention. I look at him obediently as he sits on the edge of the couch next to me and studies my face.

The amount of emotion in me is overwhelming and before his hand even reaches up to touch my hair, my throat starts to ache, my head hurts and my eyes are stinging. Shit.

Ivar's arms around me remind me just how much I need him and how important he is to me. "I'm sorry." I lean my head back on the pillow and let the tears run down my face. I’m so embarrassed and tired of always losing my shit. But true to form, his arms are around my neck and he presses his lips to my cheek and coos sweetly in my ear until I feel my fear dissipates.

With a smile on his face, he turns my head to his. "Better now?" His thumbs trace my tears as he holds my head in his hands. The look in his eyes tells me that everything is going to alright and I believe him. A simple nod of my head convinces him that the worst is over and with that, he places the gentlest kiss on the tip of my nose. I don't how he does it, but he always makes it better. "Come on," he takes my hand to pull me off the couch with him, "I baked cookies."

Now I just feel silly. I had another meltdown and truthfully I can't remember why especially when I see the plate of fresh-baked cookies that he has laid out on the kitchen table. Whatever was wrong with me just moments before seems trivial. It's amazing how he just always seems to know what to do to make everything better.

Ivar's back is to me as he looks out of the kitchen window, but judging by the way his neck is arched, he's taken an interest in something. "We have new neighbors." His voice is distant, almost like he's speaking without thinking. He can’t tear his eyes away from whatever is outside, but his head turns the slightest bit to face me.

I’ve never seen him entranced this before. Ivar never fixates. These neighbors must be amazing.

I stuff a chocolate chip cookie into my mouth and pick up another one on my way to the window. He's right. A new young couple is moving in right next door and the woman is exceptionally beautiful. Her eyes are big and bright, her face is like silk and she has this refreshingly innocent look about her. It's enough to remind me that I haven't called Thora since the last night she was here.

Then there's the guy with her. There's something in the proud way he stands... the way his muscles protrude from the sleeves of his t-shirt, and the powerful way in which he slips his arms around her and lifts her off the ground…It makes my top lip sweat and a tingle start at the base of my skull.

I can't move. I can only stand here and chew my cookie as I watch these beautiful creatures in front of me. “They are perfect,” My voice comes out like a dream. I don’t even recognize the sound of it.

As soon as I look over at him and see that gleam in his eye, I know that he already knows. They are perfect.

He lifts my hand to his mouth and takes a bite of the cookie I'm holding. "Yes. They. Are." Chewing, he nods his head and smiles. "We should welcome them to the neighborhood." He always says that the only way to get over the last one is to take a new one. The more I think about it, the more sense it makes.

Something happened with the last girl. Something bad enough to make me forget the most important things. I wish I could remember that night because I want to know that I showed her a good time, but I don't want to remember why I lost control. It's no use worrying about it now. I can't dwell on old memories. I can only look forward to making new ones. New memories with my new neighbors.

No matter what I've done before or how I feel about it now, the only thing I can concentrate on at this very moment is the dull gnawing in my gut. I need something to keep my mind off of all of this shit.

I need this. I need them. I may always be fighting with the half a conscience I have, but the growling inside of me is usually much louder than it.

The beast inside of me is awake again. And it's so damn hungry.

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aweebwrites · 5 years

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Consequences

Warning: like one swear word.

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(Here you are anon! So sorry it’s late! Eternal thanks to my lovey beta @thelucariosfish! UwU)

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“Shit…” Kai says with a shaky exhale, looking down at his burnt arms once he was alone.

This was bad. Then again, he had been using his fire almost continuously for three hours. He may be resistant to fire but that doesn't mean he was completely fireproof. Fuck. He can't hide this. He jolts once he heard footsteps approaching, quickly hiding his arms.

“Kai.” Wu says then opened the door to see him sitting there.

“Uh- hey Sensei! What can I do for you?” He asked with a nervous, unconvincing grin.

Wu looked unimpressed.

“Just in case you have forgotten, I have fought alongside elemental masters before. I know what happens when any of them use their powers for too long.” He reminded Kai who frowned, looking away. “The doctors need to treat your burns right away. By how long it took to defeat this month's major villain, I know they are extensive.” He says and Kai nodded, standing up.

He was careful to not let his hands touch anything, the burns stretching up to his elbows. His palms suffered the worst of it, holding third degree burns. From his palm to the middle of his arm, as well as the back had second degree burns and everywhere else up to his elbows had first degree. Everywhere that was burnt and wasn't his palms hurt something fierce. The fact that he can't feel the burns on his palms worried him. What also worried him was the low glow both his hands held. Wu talked about this. Talked about what could happen if damage suffered from overuse of their elements was left unchecked. It would corrupt them, make them monsters. Was that happening to him? He should stop trying to hide the damages he suffered but when he looked at Zane who went offline because of the frost in his systems or Nya who fainted from dehydration or Jay who was blacked out with electrical burns all over his back and hands or Cole who was too weak to even breathe right or Lloyd who was so exhausted, he had slipped into a fucking coma… his measly burns seemed insignificant.

He followed Wu into the doctor's office where elemental master after elemental master was hospitalized. While Sensei Wu oversaw their treatment to help reduce their elemental energies to normal levels, they will need medical care for the damage sustained. It's just… The bad guy commanded mythical creatures of all types. It was when he pulled out Hydras did they had trouble. Fucking Hydras. He never even heard of them before today. He and Skylor had to use fire to cauterize the wounds on the things after they figured out that cutting off the heads didn't work. He ended up doing most of it since Skylor was stretched thin as is. She was suffering from overstimulation. The slightest breeze sent her into utter agony.

And the other elemental masters… They wouldn't have asked them to help if they hadn't desperately needed it. The wendigos were definitely a problem they needed help with. But in the end of it all, Neuro had pushed his powers as hard as they did but lost the ability to isolate his thoughts from everyone else's and couldn't turn it off. It was quite literally driving him mad but the hospital has been treating them for awhile now. They had the soundproof vengestone-lined room ready for him with dim lights and soft music.

Tox was out of it and will have to stay on dialysis for a while to remove the excess toxins from her blood stream. Chamille can't return to her original looks, trapped somewhere between two different appearances. It was an uncomfortable situation for her but Misako is already speaking with her, reminding her of herself. Gravis had a serious case if motion sickness. Everything has to remain completely still for a while so he was left to recover with nurses watching from afar. Karlof was suffering from iron poisoning and was now resting with an IV in to lower his iron levels. Ash was still trying to form half of his body that was nothing but smoke lingering close by resting and thinking if himself as whole constantly. Shade was stuck on the shadows. He couldn't free himself and had no choice but to calm himself and wait. Griffin's adrenaline levels were sky high and his body felt like a giant sore. They had to sedate him to get him to rest but they predicted that he would be significantly better when he wakes up. Paleman was usually always invisible- at least skin wise but it was an entirely different thing to make everything on your person invisible. He's been invisible so long, his powers seem to have stalled and he was now very visible- which he hated to the point where he requests no visitors. All he needed to do was rest at least.

“Kai.” He jolted back to reality and blinked to find himself laying back in a hospital bed.

When the heck did that happen? When did they take off his gi? When did they put in an IV?

“The others will be fine. Do not worry.” Wu told him and he blinked up at him.

“How can you say that?” Kai whispered, looking at him in disbelief. “Lloyd's in a coma. Zane is offline. Cole is on a respirator. Nya nearly died from dehydration. Jay has spinal damage plus burn damage. Of course I'll worry. Especially when all I got was-”

“Third degree burns to your palms. Which means that the skin there is irreversibly damaged and it's why your palms look so yellow.” Wu pointed out, cutting Kai off. “You need to have surgery to remove all the dead skin from your palms and have grafting done to replace the skin that won't grow back.” Kai looked surprised.

Surgery?

“This is not a competition of who is hurt the most Kai. The fact that you were all hurt is terrible enough.” Wu says quietly. “You won't be able to use your powers the longest. Your palms need time to heal or else you may have to go without. Another situation like this may cause more damage than doctors are able to repair.” He told him and Kai could read between the lines.

If he uses his powers to this extent again, the damage might lead to him losing his hands. He looked up once the door opened.

“It's time for the surgery.” A nurse says as she and two others entered.

“I will be there once it is over.” Wu assured, stepping aside so they could wheel him away.

Wu watched him go with a sigh. He slipped off his hat and rubbed his face, looking obviously stressed.

“You've done everything you could.” He looked up once Misako walked in.

“Misako. How is Chamille?” He asked her, slipping his hat on.

“Resting. She won't be able to revert to her own form for a long time.” She told him then placed a hand on his shoulder. “They are all recovering. Signs look promising. Even Lloyd is showing signs of waking up soon. He will still need a lot of rest but things are looking up.” She says with a smile and he nodded with a soft sigh.

“I just wish there was more to be done to prevent the effects of using their powers for too long.” He spoke quietly.

“We're doing everything we-”

“Teacher Wu!” They whirled around to see the panicked nurse who was holding the door open, panting heavily from running it seems.

“What is it?” Wu asked, walking over to her, feeling dread filling him.

“We-” The nurse took a breath. “We have a big problem. It's Neuro.” He says, looking at them terrified.

Misako and Wu look at each other horrified before they ran out, the nurse leading the way.

“We should have seen it coming. He wasn't recovering like he used to! In fact, he began to slowly get worse! We were going to call either of you but we heard you were busy with the others so we hadn't wanted to bother you! We should have! The fault is ours! Oh only-”

“Tell us what happened.” Misako says, cutting him off as they rushed down a short flight of stairs towards where they were holding Neuro.

“We- the vengestone around the holding area. It was cracked. We hadn't known until just moments ago. The thoughts of everyone in the nearby vicinity still reached him. When we realised, it was too late.” He says as they rushed into the monitoring room, Wu all but pushing the doctor looking at the screens in horror aside.

Wu gasped as he saw Neuro inside, screaming as he clawed at his head that was growing at a rate that was almost visible to the human eye, gray fluids leaking from his eyes, nose, ears and mouth, his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Oh no.” Wu whispered as he stepped back.

The corruption was too advanced. He never treated corruption this far along before. Puri-Tea won't work on this. Neither will Sereni-Tea. He turned to the doctors.

“Run.” He told them and they looked at each other, eyes wide in our and fear.

Neuro screamed again but this time, his powers were unleashed, making them all grip their heads as a feeling of rusty nails tearing into their minds over them.

“Run!” He yelled at them again, gritting his teeth against the assault.

They didn't need to be told a third time. They all rushed out, holding their heads still, setting of the fire alarm along the way.

“Wu! We have to go to!” Misako gritted out, her head throbbing.

“No. I have to stop him. Look after the Ninja.” He ordered her.

“No! I- I won't leave you!” She yelled as blood began to run from her ears and nose.

“If you stay, you'll die! Go!” He yelled at her and she looked at him, wanting to protest further but knowing he was right.

He's not like her. Human. He had a far better chance of survival than she did. She swallowed then nodded before taking off. Wu breathed out then pressed the button to open the door then rushed in, staff held firm. Neuro turned to look at him, the gray matter oozing out of his mouth in an endless stream.

“Forgive me Neuro. I wish there was another way.” Wu whispered, ignoring the headache increasing in pain.

Neuro wasn't there anymore. Only this creature he was forced to become. Was still becoming. It gurgled out a growl then screaming as he pounced. Wu steeled himself, staff held in front of him. A twist of the middle segment made a lengthy, sharp point of vengestone appear at the tip.

Forgive me.

__________________________

(Ok laptop. Don’t fail me now. I had a lot of fun writing this! Again, sorry it’s so late! I did tweak your prompt a little. The motion sickness thing seemed to suit Gravis better so I got a little creative. I hope its ok though!)

#Ninjago #ninjago ash #ninjago cole #ninjago Chamille #ninjago elemental masters #ninjago griffin #ninjago gravis #ninjago jay #ninjago kai #ninjago lloyd #ninjago misako #ninjago neuro #ninjago nya #ninjago skylor #ninjago sensei wu #ninjago shade #ninjago tox #ninjago zane #aweebwrites' work

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bedbellyandbeyond · 6 years

Photo

Sickness

(Story Post)

A morning came one day where Nathan just couldn’t get out of bed. He called his doctor hoping he’d come for a house call and thankfully Reid had a little bit of time. When he arrived at Nathan’s home, he let himself in with the key Nathan had told him was under his flower pot. He headed upstairs to find his favourite wolf-man curled up in a cocoon again. “Oh dear, what’s the matter today?” Reid asked. “You can’t get out of bed?” Nathan rolled over to face him and frowned. “They’re moving…”

Reid blinked, his eyes lighting up. “Really? Well, that’s a very good sign, Nathan.” “I hate it… They’re making me nauseous,” Nathan said. “I don’t know what to do… I think I’ll puke if I get up…” Reid sighed sympathetically. “Unfortunately, getting up is the most common cure. When you lie down, babies love to go nuts in there, but when you stand, they typically calm down.” “If I stand, I’ll puke.” “You probably won’t but I can get you a trash can or something,” Reid said. “Is there one in your bathroom?” “Should be…” Reid went and got the bin and brought it back. “Take this and get yourself up. Come on.” Nathan wrapped the blankets around himself and tucked it so it wouldn’t come off then took the trash can in one hand and let Reid pull him up with his other hand. When he was upright, he did still feel queasy, but the twins settled down after a few seconds alongside the nausea. “I’m not gonna puke,” Nathan said. “Aye. So is that all I drove out here for?” Reid asked. “Well… No…” Nathan said, looking down. “There’s something else…” “And what’s that, laddie?” Reid asked, patting Nathan’s arm. “I… Um, it’s really embarrassing…” Nathan said. “I guess, it’s uh… Ah, fuck it…” He undid the blanket, displaying the two big wet marks in his pyjama shirt. Reid put his hands on his hips. “Well, well. Your milks come in.” “But why?” Nathan asked. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re pregnant.” “But I don’t have tits!” Nathan said. “You don’t need prominent breasts to start lactating, just the right plumbing which everyone has—unless removed—and the right hormone cocktail,” Reid explained. “This was to be expected.” “Then why didn’t you tell me this would happen?” “I forgot but also I expected you to consider it before,” Reid said. “But it’s nothing to fret about. Let me take a look.” Nathan sighed and took off his shirt. He looked away as the doctor examined his chest. “They’ve definitely swollen up,” Reid said. “Are they tender?” “Yeah, really sensitive…” Nathan pouted. “Shirts feel uncomfortable rubbing against them. And I don’t know what to do with all the…all the leakage.” “Say no more. You want nursing pads,” Reid said. “There’s different kinds, but overnight ones and braless ones will likely be best.” Nathan rubbed his eye. “I’ve been to baby stores too much now… I really don’t want to go out like this.” “Laddie. Order them online,” Reid said. “It’s early morning. You could potentially have it all delivered by the end of the day. Also, get yourself a big sports bra. That’ll help a lot.” “A bra? I can’t wear a bra!” Nathan complained. “Yes you can. I believe in you. You’re not the only man who’s ever had to wear a bra. I can guarantee that.” “Oh god, how am I supposed to do all this? It’s so embarrassing and I have to do it alone,” Nathan groaned. Reid rubbed his back. “Tell me what’s on your mind. What’s troubling you most about this?” Nathan sighed deeply and sat down. “I just… Everything I expected when it came to me having kids is thrown out the window…” “What were you expecting?” Reid sat down beside him. “Well, first I thought I’d be adopting… And I thought I’d have job security. And I thought I’d be…well, married. At least, I’d have a partner helping me… Signing the papers with me. Decorating the nursery with me. Picking out clothes. But I’ve done everything alone. And I’m pregnant.” Reid rubbed his chin. “Well, have you thought about dating?” Nathan frowned. “Dating? Seriously? Like this?” He motioned to his torso. “You’d be surprised by the people who could be into that,” Reid insisted. Nathan crinkled his nose. “I don’t want to be someone’s fetish. I want someone who wants the normal me. The not fat and leaking me.” He looked down. “God, if I hadn’t…become what I am now… I’d still be with Hugh. I’d still work at my old school. We were even starting to talk about kids… I ruined everything.” “Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve heard your transformation story many times and it has always sounded like it was Hugh’s fault you were bit in the first place,” Reid said. “He took you off the path. He found the wolf cub. He chose to leave you when you needed him most.” “I tore his leg off!” Nathan growled. “I’d leave any man who tore my leg off too!” “He wouldn’t have had his leg torn off if he didn’t get you bit,” Reid stated. “You understand?” Nathan crossed his arms. “Are you pinning this on Hugh to try and make me feel better? Because it’s not working.” He gagged a little as he felt a movement in his stomach again so he stood up. “God, I want this to end…” “It’ll be over soon,” Reid said. “Rest for today.” “I can't…” Nathan rubbed his eyes. “I’ve missed work way too much… The principal acts nice about it, but I can tell she wants to kill me.” “She doesn’t want to kill you. But you need the rest. I might even say we should start you on bed rest but you’re determined to work.” “I don’t know if you noticed, but children are expensive,” Nathan said. “I can barely afford my own living situation right now. I need to work.” Reid sighed. “After the next wolf cycle, I’m putting you on bed rest. You need it and the twins need it. I can tell just by looking at you, you’re beyond exhausted.” “…Fine. That gives me three weeks,” Nathan huffed. “But that’s still so soon…” “Just keep thinking about how you’ll get to meet your little angels.” Reid placed a hand on the side of Nathan’s stomach. “I think you’ll find it’s all worth it.” Nathan exhaled deeply for a couple seconds then placed his hands on his stomach. In this sitting position, the twins had started acting up again and he could feel them moving. His stomach turned as he felt it, but he just thought about how it was his children and that every little move meant they were alive. While he still felt a little sick from the movement, it warmed his heart a little bit knowing they were safe. “…Doc.” Reid perked up. “Aye?” “I should tell my parents, right?” Reid blinked stared at Nathan. “You haven’t told your parents yet that they’re going to be grandparents?” Nathan shook his head. “…I haven’t talked to them since… Well, since my grandma’s funeral.” “Ah. Fuzzy connection?” Nathan nodded. “Very fuzzy… I came out when I was fifteen and they sent me away to live with my grandma. They thought her ‘traditional ways’ would ‘fix’ me. That backfired pretty quick. My nana was nothing but loving.” He rubbed his belly. “I wish she was here to meet her great grandkids… But I guess, that’s not common anyway…” “Mm… Aye, I wish you coulda been so lucky,” Reid sympathised. “And it’s up to you whether you believe your parents should know and be a part of this journey with you. The last thing you need though is more stress.” “Right…” Nathan sighed and stood back up to relieve the movement. “Can you let Principal Liu know I won’t be coming in today?” “I’ll do that.” Reid checked his watch. “I got to go though. I have an appointment with another patient.” “Alright, go ahead… I’m good I guess,” Nathan decided. “Thanks for coming all the way out here, doc. I guess my issue was pretty dumb…” Reid shook his head. “No, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Do you have any friends or family who can come around and check up on you?” “Um… The only person I can think of would maybe be Nari… But he’d be working, so…” “It might be worth talking to him because it’s always better to have people around if not just for emotional support.” “I guess… But Nari's… Nari can be a little…” “Stubborn and abrasive?” Reid asked. “Yeah, he’s like that. But he means well and I’m sure if he’s paid any attention to you, it means he likes you.” “I mean, I guess… He made us official friends the other day when we, uh…” Nathan scratched the back of his head. “Well, he came over to help with my laundry. Started calling me by my first name.” “Well, then you’re best buds it seems,” Reid chuckled. “Good, it’s important he makes friends too… He avoids it. You know you’re true friends when he carries you over.” “Over what?” Nathan asked. “Over lives. You must’ve heard him talk about his lives,” Reid explained. “Nari creates a new persona every couple decades to avoid people catching on to his immortality. Each new persona is usually accompanied with a big move. His first new persona moved to the UK. Then when she was done, Nari was created and he moved to Canada. What I’d like to see is either an extension in one of his personas, or at least the effort to bring over some people in his life and not just cut everyone off.” “Oh. That seems…” Nathan rubbed his chin. “Dramatic maybe?” “Yes, but you can understand. I only hope to be brought over too… I feel like he should at least consider what APID has to offer him or whoever he’ll be in the long term.” Reid checked his watch again and clenched his teeth. “Christ, I really gotta go, Nathan. But I’ll call in the afternoon, make sure you’re well.” Nathan nodded and pulled a robe on. “…Nursing pads, right?” “Aye. I’ll send you a link to some good ones from the web.” Reid went out to the stairs. “Okay… Bye then.” “Eat something. Bye now.”

#lore #mpreg #Nathan #Reid #werewolf

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prettyboiiharringrove · 6 years

Note

#3) What about some Harringrove “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant” (was anyone else obsessed with this show on TLC)

( alpha/beta/omega masterlist )

boy was i ever. my favorite part is that the actors for the reenactment never looked like the actual people. It was amazing television, so chaotic and confusing and great, and if you haven’t seen is there’s full episodes on youtube, please join us on this wild ride.

also i don’t know if you’ve ever seen the night shift but i’m basing the doctor in this off of tc and the nurse off kenny because i feel like they’d have a good vibe. honestly actually everyone from the night shift would just take in billy and be like must protec and if neil showed up talking shit literally EVERYONE would be ready to square up thanks now i need this completely unlikely and irrelevant crossover i legit have ideas for it but like no one would be into it lolol

lol y’all got two show recs before i even got to the ‘good’ stuff, finally filling your request darlin. let it be known this could have gone a lot darker but i tried to keep it as angst with a semi happy ending (but also with a where the fuck could this go vibe because i just love to do that to y’all) so please enjoy

also i know you didn’t ask for it but i did teen billy just because like idk it’s what was speaking to me so i hope that’s okay

back at it again with my fav omega son

😱 😱 😱

The most surprising part of all of this is that Nancyfucking Wheeler’s the one that convinces him to go to the hospital. The love ofhis life’s shitty ex and newly appointed best fucking friend, the main sourceof all his jealousy, not including his nagging insecurity, is the one thatdrags him to the car and drives him to the emergency room.

Billy and Steve hadbeen in a fight, still are actually, which means that his stupid fuckingfriends were sent to check on him. He still hangs out with Tommy and Carol, andthey’ve kind of made up with Steve for his sake, so it isn’t that bad when they’reasking fucking questions, even though they never really cared, but when fuckingWheeler and Byers are in his goddamn business, it pisses him off.

He’s sitting on thefloor in front of his locker, curled up into a ball as he tries to bite backthe pain pulsing through him, uncaring of the fact that he’s blocking at leasttwo lockers that don’t belong to him.

“Fuck off Wheeler,” hegroans when he sees her tiny little feet standing in front of him. He’s kind ofpissed off that he can recognize her without looking at her stupid pretty fuckingface.

She crouches down toglare at him, every inch of her 5’4” frame giving off judgement and impatience.She clearly doesn’t want to deal with his shit. Good, she’s equally as unhappyabout these little interactions then.

“Steve’s worried,” shetells him, as if he doesn’t already fucking know, as if he hasn’t been dealingwith these fucking cramps for the last three days, as if he hasn’t wanted tocurl up in Steve’s lap since he woke up at four in the morning sobbing becausehe was in so much fucking pain.

“Good for him,” hetries to sound angry, but Nancy sees right through him. She rolls her eyes. Howthe hell she deals with high school boys and their bullshit on a daily basis,she’ll never know.

“You look like crap.”

“You sure know how tomake a guy feel special,” he huffs out a laugh but then he’s doubling over,cradling his stomach as tears burn in his eyes.

“You should go to adoctor,” she sighs, looking sympathetic. Funny, Billy never thought he’d seethat look directed towards him.

“I’ve had worse,” hebarks.

Fucking liar. If heweren’t in so much pain, he’d probably wonder when his conscience started usingSteve’s voice to get to him. As if to prove a point, his stomach and back startpulsing, and he can’t hold back the whimper that bubbles up from his throat.

When her eyes go wide,he can’t help the pang of worry that he feels in his gut. Nancy Wheeler is veryrarely ever surprised or scared, or rather she does a very good job of hidingit. The only person that locks away worry and suffering better is Billyhimself.

“You’re bleeding,” shewhispers, her tone unsettling.

“So, I probablyscratched a scab open, or walked into something, shit happens,” Neil pushes himinto the brick of their fireplace at least once a week, twice this week, it wouldn’tsurprise him if he got cut; he hardly notices when it happens anymore.

“No, look at yourpants,” Nancy’s gone pale, so he takes a while to look down. He’s already inpain, he’d like to live in blissful ignorance for just one moment longer.Eventually, he glances down, his pants wet with both blood and some otherfluid. He hadn’t even noticed, he was in so much pain.

“Shit,” Billy’strembling now, both from pain and fear. That’s never happened before. Pain so hard to handle that’s he’s in a heapon the floor, that’s happened before, not to this caliber, but it’s happened.Blood leaking through the crotch of his jeans though, that’s completely new.

“Come on, I’m takingyou to the hospital,” she’s already moving to help him up, and when her handgoes under his armpit to keep him stable, he realizes she’s surprisinglystrong. She probably would have had him up in an instant if he were being evena little cooperative.

“Can’t,” he doesn’ttry and say he’s fine, knows she’ll call him out on his bullshit, but there’sno part of him that is stupid enough to think that blood changes anything. Ifhe goes to the hospital and they see all the cuts and bruises, he’s dead.

“Stop being a child,get up,” she scolds him, tugging on his arm once again. He jerks it away, histemper firing back up despite his pain.

“You’re not fuckinglistening. I can’t go,” he tellsher. He moves to get up himself, to stand and walk the opposite direction, butall he manages to do is crawl less than a foot away before he’s practically sprawledout on the floor, leaning on his backpack. “He’ll kill me.”

Nancy furrows herbrow. She’s not stupid, but he’s always been pretty good at hiding this, andSteve wouldn’t rat him out, not even when they’re fighting. She sighs, noddingin understanding when the gears stop turning. So, she knows his secret now,great.

“Yeah, well if we stayhere, you might be dead anyways. Come on,” she’s gentler now, moreunderstanding, but she’s still forceful. There’s no room for argument, and atthis point Billy’s trying his best to stay conscious and keep himself frombiting his fucking tongue off, it hurts so badly; he doesn’t have any fightleft in him.

He’s not sure how theymake it outside, she’s practically dragging him, and he thinks they run intothe lockers a few times. He vaguely remembers her stealing his keys and shovinghim in the passenger’s seat; it reminds him of the few times he’d beenarrested, the way she cradles his head so he doesn’t hit it and slams the dooronce he’s in. If he were more himself he’d mouth off to her about being morefucking gentle with his baby.

He blacks out on hisway to the hospital.

———————————

He comes to in a room, apparently blood, random body fluids,and being unconscious speeds up the wait time. He’s got an IV in his arm andthe sterile smell is making him sick to his stomach. It’s too familiar, remindshim of the last time he saw his mom and it burns.

He thinks what woke him up was the prick of a needle,considering he sees a nurse stepping away with a small vile of his blood. He’snot quite sure, because the sting of the needle is nothing in comparison to thecramping that’s been coming and going all day.

“Tell me you didn’t call my dad,” are the first words out ofhis mouth, desperate and pleading. He doesn’t care about who answers, just whatthe answer is.

“Your girlfriend told us not to. It’s not usually what we’ddo, but considering all your injuries, we figured that’d be the best decision,called social services and the chief instead,” the nurse tells him.

He doesn’t argue with him about the girlfriend comment,although he would never be caught dead dating her. He doesn’t have the time tocare, not when another sharp pain hits him in his abdomen.

He almost misses the scoff that helps him realize Nancy isstill there with him. He’s kind of appreciative for a second before he realizesit’s all for Steve’s benefit, and then he becomes distracted as he realizeswhat the nurse had said. Everyone’s been called and Neil is going to rip himapart.

“Fuck,” he chokes out as he struggles to breathe. He doesn’thave panic attacks often, and these days when he does Steve’s there to talk himthrough it. A nurse looking at him as he hyperventilates, telling him to calmdown isn’t helping, especially not when his stomach is cramping so badly he’scontemplating finding a scalpel to rip himself open, and he has to count downthe minutes until his dad finds out and slaughters him.

“I’m dead, I’m so fuckingdead. He’s gonna kill me because you assholescouldn’t keep your m—” he cuts himself off with a yelp; at least the pain isdistracting enough to have him biting down on his lip and holding his breath.It doesn’t put a full stop to his panic attack, but it does get him breathingnormal again.

The nurse takes his yelling and general shitty attitude instride, and Billy kind of really hates him for it, because he would very muchlike it if he wasn’t the only one suffering. “Sorry kid, I know it sucks, butwe can’t give you anything stronger than some Tylenol until we know what’swrong with you.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you suck?” Billy croaks out,clutching at his abdomen. Nancy makes an offended squeak, as if she expectedhim to have more manners and is hoping the nurse doesn’t take Billy’s attitudeas a representation of her own. Honestly, who the hell does she think she’swith right now ??

“All the time, part of the job,” the nurse answers with asweet smile, and Billy would probably have a crush on the guy if thecircumstances were different.

“No seriously, if I didn’t think I was gonna be dead by theend of the day, I’d spend like an entire fucking hour telling you just howfucking horrible you are, like I want to like you, but you really really suck dude.”

“No one’s letting you die,” he sighs, almost like he kind ofwants Billy to like him. Billy thinks he sees some glimmer in his eye, like heplans to win him over; he kind of wishes he would have the time to. He’swishing for a lot of things in this moment, for pain meds, for everyone toleave before his dad gets here, for them to believe him when he lies about thebruises, for Steve, oh god does he want Steve.

“Doesn’t matter if you let me or not, I’m screwed,” Billysays it more to himself, but he doesn’t miss the nurse pausing in the doorwayas if he were contemplating saying something; he probably couldn’t think ofanything comforting so he moved on. Billy thinks he made the right call,because there are absolute zero words that can make him feel any better rightnow.

He chances a glance at Nancy, who is just looking at himwith concern and disappointment as she sits awkwardly in a hard plastic chairagainst the wall. He doesn’t say anything to her, wants her to be at leastuncomfortable if he has to be miserable.

———————————

This doctor strolls into the room with a chart and Billy hasnever been so upset to see someone that fucking gorgeous. Of course they’d sendin a fucking supermodel to take care of him on the absolute worst day of his life.Does everyone in this goddamn hospital have to be so pretty ??

“Please tell me I’m dying,” the doctor laughs, probablythinking Billy is joking, but he would much rather die in that hospital bedthan at the hands of Neil Hargrove.

“Heard you’re complaining of stomach cramps and vaginal bleeding.”

“Complaining makes it sound like I’m being fucking dramatic,and trust me I’m not. I get the shit kicked outta me all the time, so trust mewhen I say this shit is fucking miserable.”

“You get in a lot of fights?” the doc questions with a glintin his eye, and Billy notices that the guy’s got a split lip and bruised cheekof his own. He wonders if he sees some of himself in Billy. If they’re anythingalike, Billy feels sorry for the guy.

“Something like that,” Billy shrugs, not in the mood forsmall talk. He just wants to get out of here. If they leave him alone longenough he can walk out before people start asking all the right questions andmaybe Neil will go easy on him.

“Well, if it’s alright with you, we’re gonna do an ultrasoundand a pelvic exam, make sure you’re not dying after all.”

“Trust me, doesn’t matter what you find, I’m a dead manwalking, but sure, do whatever you fucking want if it makes you happy,” it’snot like his body’s ever belonged to him, he might as well let them poke andprod, maybe alleviate the pain so he can have a few minutes of peace beforeNeil rips into him.

———————————

“Well I’ll be damned,” the doctor says as he pulls away fromBilly, letting him drop his legs back down into a more comfortable position andcover himself up with his gown and the blanket. “You didn’t think it might havebeen a good idea to tell us you’re pregnant?”

“What? I’m not,” Billy answers as he looks at this fuckingquack. Pregnant ?? He would have fucking noticed. If he was, how far along ??If it’s hurting this badly something must be terribly wrong. His desperatelonging for Steve hits again, knowing there’s not a damn person in that roomthat can comfort him the way he needs.

“Kid, I know you’re probably scared, you’re what, sixteen ??I get it, but no one here’s gonna judge you. You have to be honest with us.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he barksout, unable to even accept this information. This guy has to be fucking insane.

“You’re in labor and you’re telling me you had no idea aboutthis baby?”

In labor. Okay, no, this guy has to be messing with him.That, or he’s fucking insane.

“Look doc, I appreciate a good joke as much as the next guybut I’d really appreciate it if you stuck to your fucking day job right now andfigured out what the fuck is wrong with me because that’s not possible.”

“You tellin’ me you’re a virgin ?? Never had sex before, noteven once ??” the doctor looks at Billy with a raised brow and a smirk. Billywants to punch the look right off his face. The most annoying part is he’dprobably like the guy if he wasn’t in this particular situation.

“Well, no obviously I fucking have, I’m not a nun,” he rollshis eyes, falling back on the pillows.

“So there’s a chance you could be pregnant ??”

“I’m on fucking birth control, and I think I would havenoticed if I was pregnant, I mean do I look—”

“Doesn’t matter how you look.Birth control isn’t a guaranteed deal. It decreases your chances significantlybut it’s not one hundred percent. Sorry kid, but it’s not just a maybe, you’repregnant and that kid’s coming tonight.”

“Fuck me,” Billy groans, leaning back onto the bed andjamming his eyes shut. If he closes them and waits long enough to open them,this nightmare will be over.

“Looks like someone’s already beat me to it,” the doctorsays with a smirk and Billy lifts his leg to try and kick him since the guy’sstanding by the foot of the bed. He can’t quite reach him, and the stretchfucking hurts, but the nurse behind him smacks him upside the head and callshim an asshole. Okay, so maybe the nurse is a pretty good guy after all.

Normally Billy would have a comeback ready, but this timehe’s gripping the metal railing so hard his knuckles have gone white.

“I can’t do this,” Billy’s shaking again, pain and terrorovertaking him as his breathing becomes shallow. Nancy moves from her placeagainst the wall, desperate to think of anything that could get him to calmdown. “I can’t fucking do this. Where the fuck is he ?? I can’t, fuck, I can’t,” he’s hyperventilating now, andat least the doctor has wiped that stupid look off his face.

“Listen, you need to breathe, alright ?? We can help you,but this isn’t going to get you anywhere, it’s just gonna make things worse foryou and your baby, so you need to calm down.”

“Easy…for you…to say,” Billy struggles between breaths, hisargumentative nature never faltering, even as every good thing he’s built upfor himself comes crumbling down on top of him.

“I called Steve. He should be here any minute. It’s gonna beokay,” Nancy tells him, speaking for the first time since he’s woken up. Whythe fuck is she even still here ?? Billy can’t stand her, but the more hethinks about her leaving, the more he realizes he hates the idea.

“None of this is okay,” he argues as he bites back tears,but his breathing finally starts to settle at the thought of Steve. He closeshis eyes, forcing a few deep breaths, and he thinks he hears his doctoroffering up gentle praises for getting his breathing under control, but hecan’t really keep up because he’s not so patiently waiting on Steve while hetries to concentrate on not screaming due to what he now knows are labor pains.

———————————

Billy doesn’t really pay attention to anything anyone has tosay until they’re trying to move him to labor and delivery and Steve’s stillnot fucking there.

“I can’t, I can’t go yet,” Nancy’s never heard Billy sodesperate, and she’s sure she’s never seen him cry. “Wheeler, tell them, tellthem I need him, please, Nancy please!!”

The contractions are getting closer together, and apparentlythere’s a huge fucking chance for complications since he didn’t do any prenatalcare, there’s not much time and he needs to get up there, but if he’s desperateenough to ask Nancy for help, then they both know he can’t go anywhere untilSteve’s by his side.

“Five minutes, come on, just give me five minutes and if he’snot here you can take him,” Nancy and Billy are both looking at the nurses anddoctor with big pleading eyes, and they must be the most charming pair in the entire county,because the group reluctantly agrees.

“Five minutes,” the doctor tells her sternly, and Nancy doesn’twaste any time, heading towards the hallway to try and get cell reception tocall Steve again.

She starts to dial him only to see Steve barreling in, shoessqueaking as he practically slides down the corridor. Social services goes tostop him, although Hopper just rolls his eyes and is happy to let him by.

“He’s the father !! Let him through !!” Nancy yells, and the overdressedjudgmental strangers let him squeeze on by.

“Hey Nance,” Steve answers, panting as he’s hunched over,hands gripping tightly to his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “Wait…father?!!”

“Steve?!” Billy hears his voice, and Nancy decides thatinstead of answering, she’s just going to push Steve into the room to seeBilly, because their five minutes are slowly dwindling down and they can walkand talk.

“Daddy dearest I presume?” the doctor answers with a smirkand Billy, who still has tears in his eyes, groans in both aggravation andpain.

“Can someone please tell him he’s not funny ??”

“Sorry kid, we’ve tried, he just doesn’t learn,” the nurseshrugs, and Billy’s decided that if that nurse leaves his side he’s going tolose his shit.

“Took you fucking long enough,” Billy sighs when he finallyturns to address Steve.

“I’m sorry, someone said father, is no one gonna tell mewhat the fuck is going on ?!!”

“Oh, right. Your boyfriend’s in labor and you’re the dad.Congrats,” the doctor nods and when he’s met with several glares he almostlooks offended. “What ?! Someone had to tell him, and we don’t exactly havetime to draw it out. Rip the fucking band-aid.”

“Your bedside manner is shit,” at least three people saysomething similar, but Billy only has time to hear himself before he turns toSteve, who is a carbon copy of Billy about an hour go, when he was given thesame news. “Steve, baby, I know this sucksand like you can totally be pissed at me later for screwing your life up butcan you just, can you wait until this is over to have your meltdown? I really need you right now.”

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah,”Steve has several thoughts floating around in his head, like how he’s a fewhours from being a dad, maybe less, how he would never blame Billy for this, howhe loves him, how maybe this isn’t actually a bad thing, but his vocabulary isvery fucking limited as he tries to cope with the shock of it all, so he justnods stupidly and doesn’t even notice when the doctor snorts out a laugh.

“Thanks,” Billy croaks, shyly reaching for his hand, unsureif he’s still allowed to touch Steve after dumping this whole mess at his feet.Steve accepts it without question, squeezes it in a comforting gesture, andBilly thinks that despite the pain, he can do this. He can face death so longas Steve still loves him, so long as Steve gets their baby and Neil never getsclose to them.

———————————

Billy spends an hour and a half gripping Steve’s hand sotightly that at one point Steve thinks it might be fucking broken, until heloses circulation in it completely, and then there’s relief as he hearsscreeching, as his daughter is placed on Billy’s chest and he looks at her babyblue eyes and little tufts of hair and loses himself.

Billy finds himself missing the other doctor when the onethat delivered his daughter tells him that this is the easiest labor she’s seenin a while; he has half a mind to rip out her uterus and ask her how she feels.

Billy finds himself daydreaming as Steve climbs into the bedwith him. He rests against Steve and cradles their little girl in his arms andjust pretends, for a moment, that they could be happy. He knows eventually he’llhave to accept reality, that social services and the police are going to wantto talk to him about all the bumps and bruises only for his hope to fallthrough the cracks and Neil to drag him home and beat him bloody, but as hesits in the blissful silence, he lets himself be happy.

“She’s perfect,” Steve whispers and a single tear slips downBilly’s face as his daydream is interrupted.

“I can’t take her home Steve, she won’t be safe,” his voice ishoarse, but his conviction is strong. He needs Steve to hear him.

“What do you mean?”

“You have to promise you’ll take care of her, please, justpromise me,” he begs, holding her closer to his chest, enjoying what littletime he may have with her.

“I’ll always take care of her baby, I’m gonna take care ofboth of you,” Steve tells him, and god does Billy wish he could find comfort inthat.

“He’s gonna kill me, the second he finds out, I’m dead and Ican’t…I can’t let him hurt her too.”

“No one’s hurting anyone,” Steve sighs, leaning in closerand kissing Billy’s temple. “I’m not going to let him hurt you ever again.”

“You don’t know that, don’t make a promise you can’t keep,”he argues, but he finds himself leaning into Steve’s embrace, trying andfailing to fight the hope bubbling up in his chest.

“You’re not going home with him,” Steve says it with suchdetermination that Billy finds himself believing it.

It’s the truth, Steve won’t let them take him, he knowsthat, and even if it’s only their truth for the next ten minutes, he will baskin those ten minutes and hope for a future that may never come, because nomatter what happens to him, their little girl will always be safe in SteveHarrington’s arms.

#biancatorres1 #harringrove au #harringrove fic #omega billy hargrove #alpha steve harrington #alpha/beta/omega #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #omega billy #alpha steve #irrelevant but i need to catch up on nightshift now that four seasons are up thanks #i know that it's set in texas and billy is in indiana but let a girl live

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allthings-fantasy · 6 years

Text

Welcome to the World (Pt 19 of Pen Pals)

Author: @allthings-fantasy

Pairing: Bellamy x Reader

Author’s Notes: Sorry there’s no word count on this one! I normally type on word, but while I was finishing it up, it crashed on me. This required me to basically retype the entire thing on tumblr drafts. Literally never thought that this series was going to be this long but here we are! Also if I get anything wrong about the whole pregnancy timeline, my bad.

Part 18 MASTERLIST

8 Weeks

It’s been two weeks since Raven’s accident, two weeks since you found out you were pregnant. When you weren’t at work, you spent most of your time at Raven’s house. For the next few weeks she was confined to a wheel chair until her body recovered. A large brace wrapped around her leg, keeping everything aligned. Despite profusely telling you she didn’t need help, you insisted on staying.

Now it was Friday and you had a doctor’s appointment with your OBGYN. Bellamy insisted on coming to every appointment with you. According to the endless research you’ve been doing, the doctor should be able to show you the baby’s heartbeat.

You had come to terms with the fact that you’re going to get over the stirrups that left you completely exposed to whoever was in front of you. The white sheets hung over your legs as you glanced over at Bellamy with a small smile. You didn’t know how you were so lucky to have such an amazing guy.

A sharp knock at the door made both of your heads perk up. “Good morning, Ms Y/L/N. How are we doing today?” Doctor Morgan came through the door, flashing the two of you a thousand watt smile. Her short hair cropped her slender face. Kind brown eyes looked over the chart in her hand. “Any changes lately?” Bellamy stifled a laugh while you nodded your head. She smirked and glanced between the two of you. “Care to share?”

“I can’t eat peanut butter anymore.” Your nose wrinkled just at the thought of it, a small wave of nausea washing through you. “I don’t experience morning sickness that often yet, just here and there. But the cravings are starting to become a real thing.”

This time Bellamy couldn’t hold his small laugh back anymore. “She asked me to go get pickles and chocolate bars at midnight the other night.” He raised an eyebrow at you, a small blush forming over your cheeks.

She stifled a laugh and nodded before setting her chart down on the table. “Well that is to be expected. The cravings will probably start getting worse, so make sure you’re getting exercise when you can.” Morgan shot a smile at the two of you and sat down on the stool beside the table you were on. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

For a little while no one talked. The entire room was filled with the shallow hum of the ultrasound machine. Bellamy’s fingers aimlessly ran up and down your arm. The nerves that filled your body the first time you were in this chair were no longer here. That feeling was replaced by anxiousness. You were anxious to hear your baby’s heartbeat, even excited.

Suddenly, the hum wasn’t the only sound in the room. A deep thumping sound hit your ears, like the beat of a raspy drum. “And that... is your baby’s heartbeat.” You couldn’t describe the feeling running though you. It suddenly became so real. There was an actual person inside of you.

Bellamy’s hand squeezing yours brought you out of your thoughts. A deep smile spread across his lips. It was impossible not to smile back at him. A cheek aching grin broke out on your face as your vision blurred.

11 Weeks

Bellamy and you decided that it was time to tell your parents that the two of you were having a baby. The two of you had a bet who was going to squeal louder, your mom or Octavia. When you had told O, you were sure your eardrums were going to burst. You’ve never been hugged tighter in your entire life. She was so excited to be an aunt.

Two two of you sat across from your parents, enjoying the lunch that your mother made for the four of you. “So, uh, guys we have something to share.” Your leg bounced in anticipation, chewing on your bottom lip.

Your father’s eyebrows furrowed as he took another large bite of his sandwich. “What is it sweetie?” He murmured through a mouth full of food.

“We’re having a baby!”

The squeal you were expecting never came. Your mom looked at you with an opened mouthed smile. She whipped her head to the side and smacked your dad on the shoulder. “You owe me $20!”

You glared between your mother and father in disbelief. “I’m sorry uh, what?”

She let out a chuckle and wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Oh honey, we’ve been betting on when you two would have a baby! I said it was going to be before you got married but your dad insisted it was going to be before!” She clapped her hands together and beamed between you and Bellamy. “I’m so happy for the two of you! I get to be a grandma!”

Your father wiped off his hands and took a large sip of his drink. “How far along are you?”

“I’m exactly eleven weeks today.” You smiled and leaned your head on Bellamy’s shoulder.

14 Weeks

You were officially into your second trimester. The past few weeks have been pretty rough on you and you were finally starting to feel better. This was the first time you went an entire week without throwing up. In all honesty, this was the best you’ve felt in months.

The bump forming on your front was growing every week. Your normal clothes no longer fit you anymore, you moved into maternity clothing. Every night before going to sleep, Bellamy would place a kiss on your forehead and finally on the globe of your stomach.

17 Weeks

You were beyond excited, you practically skipped across the parking lot to Bellamy’s car. “Guessing this was the news you wanted to hear?” Bellamy smirked over at you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

Your head nodded eagerly, your hands resting against your growing bump. “You know this is what I was hoping for.”

He opened the door for you, helping you up into the Rover. You adjusted in the seat, pausing your movements for a moment when you felt something shift. For a second, you thought it was just because of your shuffling in the seat. But once you were still, it happened again.

You gasped at the sensation, marveling at the feeling of a tiny thump coming from inside of you. Your hands covered the spot on your stomach that was kicked, almost pleading for him to do it again. As soon as Bellamy opened his door you looked at him with wide eyes. “Bellamy! You have to feel this the baby’s kicking!”

Bell slammed his door shut, his large palms covering the expanse of your bulged stomach. As if the baby knew it was their father, they pushed out a mighty kick. He stared at your stomach in awe. “Hi baby boy.”

25 Weeks

Heartburn and leg cramps. That’s what summed up your life for the past couple days. Nights were practically impossible making it almost unbearable to sleep. Your doctor advised you to invest in a mommy yoga class to help with the cramps.

The office room in Bellamy’s apartment was slowly transforming into a nursery. Boxes of furniture sat inside the room, waiting to be assembled. The walls were painted a light grey color with baby blue accents. You both decided on dark mahogany wood for the crib, changing table, and dresser.

Your baby shower was in a few weeks, Octavia and your mother insisted on you having one. You wanted everything small and simple, but they wanted nothing but the biggest and the best.

31 Weeks

It was almost 9pm by the time you got home. The Rover was filled with gift bags and boxes of baby supplies, which you were grateful for. Your stomach was stretched to a size you didn’t even think was possible. Faint purple stretch marks started to form over the lower half of your stomach.

Pregnancy was starting to lose its charm. You were bloated and constantly uncomfortable. No matter how you moved, something was always pressing on something else, pushing one organ into the other. Your bladder and diaphragm got the worst of the abuse. You felt like you could barely walk into the kitchen without getting a little winded. Lord knows, the second you stand up your bladder is demanding to be emptied.

Bellamy took on the job as your professional shoe tier. You could barely see your toes, let alone tie shoes. Most of the days your feet were too swollen for actual shoes, flip flops were your new best friend.

37 Weeks

Your bump has dropped, resting deeper in your pelvis. Although it help your breathing, your bladder was taking one hell of a beating. Everything in the nursery was prepared to perfection. You had your overnight bag ready. Everything was ready, expect for the baby.

You felt bad for Bellamy, you knew he wanted to make you feel better, but there was nothing that could be done. You thought you were uncomfortable before, but it was nothing compared to this. And on top of everything, now you were starting to leak breast milk! No matter how many times you asked, it was impossible for your doctor to induce you early.

41 Weeks

“Uh, Bell!” You stood in the kitchen, eyes wide and mouth agape as your stared down at your pants. “Bell!”

His hurried footsteps thundered down the hall as Bellamy skidded into view. “What is it?! Are you o- Oh my god it’s happening!” You watched as his eyes dropped down to the wet spot forming in the front of your pants.

“It’s happening!” You half laughed at Bellamy’s bewildered expression. His hands went into his hair.

Bell huffed and in three quick strides he was in front of you. His large hands reached over to cup your face before placing a sweet kiss on your lips.”Ready to have a baby?”

Everything after that moved in a blur. Bellamy ran to grab your bag and a new pair of pants before making your way out to his car. The two of you limped into the front doors of the hospital where you were met with a nurse that had a wheelchair.

In the matter of ten minutes you were changed into a gown, hooked up to an IV. There were nurses and doctors all over you. Everything was moving so fast, you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath.

Bellamy left the room for a little bit to call both of your families, telling them the news. It was past midnight but you knew everyone was going to on their ways in a matter of minutes.

In the beginning, your contractions weren’t that bad. They simply felt like a cramp, but they took a wrong turn fast. Your hand one hand squeezed Bell’s while the other gripped the bar beside the bed. Everything inside of your clenched as you threw your head back, a deep whine leaving your lips.

The contractions were only three minutes apart now, you were 9 centimeters dilated, it would happen any time now. Thankfully, you were given an epidural, making the contractions easier to deal with.

When the doctor told you to push, it felt like nothing was happening. You kept pushing, trying to remember your breathing from those classes that your mother advised you to take. Bellamy was now in scrubs, standing beside you as he told you words of encouragement between your screams.

Finally, all the pressure went away. You felt empty, deflated. Your head rested back against the pillow as your eyes shut for a few seconds, your body going limp from exhaustion.

Then, you heard a sound. A sweet, loud cry filled your ears. Bellamy had tears in his eyes when you looked up at him, then to the nurse walking over to you. She had a large smile on her mouth when she handed you the bundle in her arms.

The second you laid eyes on your baby, you cried. Tears poured uncontrollably from your eyes, never before have you felt overcome with such emotion, such love. Bellamy placed a kissed to the crown of your head before running a finger over the baby’s hand. He was so small, and he was all yours.

The baby was now cleaned off, a brand new blanket wrapped around your baby’s frame. He rested in your arms, sleeping. Bellamy sat beside you on the bed, keeping his hand on the child’s stomach. He was born 7 pounds and 4 ounces, 20 inches long.

“Do you have a name yet?” The doctor glanced between the two of you.

You nodded and smiled down at your baby. “Daniel... Daniel Michael Blake.”

She nodded and scribbled it down on a piece of paper. “Well, welcome to the world Daniel Blake.”

TAGS: @divadinag @literallyhelpme @iamabeautifulperson18 @jodiereedus22 @imarypayne @glittered-unicorn-lava @coffeebooksandfandom @sighsophiia @lilaqueenquinn @kararanae23 @alecswcrlock @smexylemony @wisestydia-15 @olkathefoxi @your-imagination-runs-wild @thehakunamatara @takenbymyfandoms

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hxh-secretsanta-2017 · 7 years

Text

yo this is for @sanktpetyrthethird who asked for drug dealer au killugon

honestly thank you cause?? this is not at all a story i would have ever brainstormed let alone written if not for that prompt and ive fallen in love with it and it really really improved my writing workflow to. yknow. plot instead of writing <3000 word fluff pieces (raincheck for acts 2 and 3 my dude. this. kinda got away from me)

(also i started following u cause of this and ur sweetheart!! i was really happy to be writing this for such a cool and awesome person)

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!!!!! :D

also thank you to @driftingglass for beta reading a whack of this and helping me to realize i had to cut some prose described by a friend as “violet”

Prologue.

Golden eyes. An earnest smile. Freckles that mark a childhood spent in sunlight.

Killua shakes out his hands, hoping to flick away heart fluttering memories and dread that sinks through his gut like ink in water.

“I need you tomorrow,” says Illumi. His hands drag across the spines of the books, fingers knobby and nails sharp. He eyes the titles with the same vacant, disinterested scowl he has for everything.

Iron supports hold aloft the domed glass ceiling and cast sweeping shadows like eagle’s wings. Fading dusk sky snatches away scarce warmth from the city below.

Killua shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of one of the few couches clustered by the unlit fireplace. He walks past the table stacked high with stolen documents awaiting review by himself, his parents, or senior staff.

As Illumi browses through the children’s books—Killua suppresses a disgusted sneer—he slides a brass ladder along the wall of the circular library. Its wobbly wheels scream in the otherwise silent air. He swallows hard and hopes that he hasn’t awoken Kikyo.

Body sluggish and aching for sleep, he climbs up and finds what he’s looking for by the marks he left in the dust a few days prior. It’s an old farmer’s almanac with folklore stories scattered throughout, factual and fantastical in equal measure.

Killua hops to the floor and runs his thumb along the scarlet cover.

It’s an illustration of a humanoid goat standing over a river of blood. Her apron flies in a vicious wind, and the scissors she holds over her head are open around a crescent moon. She stares straight out at the viewer, defiant and oozing with fury.

Killua passes the book to Illumi and Illumi looks up at him, unblinking. For a moment, Killua thinks he’s going to make him pick out something else, but then he adds it to the small stack balanced in the crook of his elbow.

Illumi fades towards one of the arched entrances, which gapes wide like a jaw.

Killua bites his lip.

“Can I give them to her?”

Illumi pauses, a hand gracefully posed on the archway. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Was there any trouble tonight?”

“Will I see you again?”

Killua can hardly keep himself standing. He rubs the side of his temple with the heel of his palm, before forcing himself to open his eyes as wide as he can manage.

“I’m fine.”

Illumi tut-tuts, sickeningly similar to their mother. “Oh Kil, you must be falling ill. Go rest. I don’t want to lose my best spotter.”

Killua is going to vomit.

He hisses in a breath to argue, but something about the way Illumi raises an eyebrow stops him. For a moment he’s pulled into his brother’s dense orbit. A cold sweat runs down his neck.

Killua’s legs itch, screaming both to run and freeze like ice.

Illumi breaks the stare, and Killua gasps, his breathing heavy.

“Goodnight, Kil,” he says, before vanishing with steps so smooth he may as well have been a ghost.

Killua raises a hand to the base of his neck and rubs his skin in a fruitless attempt to self-soothe.

Illumi is far from good company, but he leaves a vacuum in his wake.

Killua does not enjoy solitude. Loneliness, he has learned to live with; solitude, he abhors.

The library is gray and old. It’s a room that hasn’t seen proper use in years, a forgotten corner of the Zoldyck estate with mildew air that itches Killua’s nose and tastes like dust on his tongue. The books are no more than lifeless stacks of paper, ripped apart from the one who loved—loves—them most. The reading chair in the corner, undisturbed even by the housekeepers, calls out for company.

“Will I see you again?”

Killua grabs the hair at his temples and tries not to scream. For a moment, grief compresses him so hard he’s knocked to his knees.

There are translucent hands wrapped around his arms, grabbing at his neck, twisting the flesh of his thighs. His chest bubbles with panic that wants to spill over into sobs. A reckless desire he’s kept in check for years torrents through his heart, and he wants nothing more than to give in and let it ruin him.

Killua has survived through routine and a lace veil of iron between himself and the world beyond his fingertips, but now the walls are crashing down around him.

A thousand deaths on his hands, and he is going to crack for just one person.

There’s a chance, a risk, so stupidly foolish he hates himself for even considering the possibility.

Killua is a professional murderer. He has the heart of a killer, and the drying blood under his fingertips to prove it. He has never shown mercy, and tonight has yet to become an exception. His record is flawless, and his legacy, should he choose to embrace it, will be unparalleled.

Life stretches out before him, every cranny of it predetermined, and he has learned to accept that, to swallow it, for the sake of his sister.

It’s been months since he was allowed to see her, to rest her head in his lap and answer her questions about the outside. Even the polish on his toes has chipped away.

What do they have left to lose? Pain does not scare him, and they dare not touch her.

***

There are pinup posters on the walls of Milluki’s room, and a strip of lights wrapped around the ceiling that flash green and purple. Monitors are mounted to the walls, and boxes of cables in tangled knots are stored under the desk.

Milluki doesn’t even look up when Killua closes the door.

“What do you want?” he asks, tapping his finger on the mouse. A loading bar ticks slowly on one screen, and a jumble of code Killua has never cared to understand lights up another. Milluki continues working, used to more hysterical interrupters than Killua.

What does he want? Killua pauses for a moment, and then he almost laughs, because any answer even close to honest is surreal.

“Can you do me a favour?”

Milluki chokes at that, before spinning his chair around. There’s a glowing smile on his face, though he’s trying to hide it and failing poorly. A flash of irritation burns on Killua’s cheeks.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?”

Killua grinds his teeth and swallows his pride. “I need a favour.”

Milluki claps his hands together and rocks back in his chair. His eyes sparkle with delight. “Anything for my most darling little brother.”

“Shut up,” says Killua, his nose wrinkling.

Milluki’s enthusiasm is undeterred. “What do you need?”

Killua plunges over the point of no return before he can convince himself of reason. Hesitation, his grandfather always said, is the antidote to good fortune. “I need you to leak the outgoing messages from Zenji’s phone over the past two weeks. It can’t be tied back to us, and no one can find out about it.”

Milluki nods happily, and he’s already closed out one screen for another when he stills. “Wait—does anyone know about this?”

Killua shakes his head, frustrated and impatient. Kikyo could wake at any moment, Silva should be home soon, and Illumi has a knack for appearing when he is least wanted. Which is always.

Milluki sobers and worries his lip with his teeth. “I mean, yeah, I can do it, but…” His eyes slide up to the monitors and then down to Killua’s feet. “It isn’t a good idea.”

“I’ll owe you. Seriously.” Killua watches the door, his palms sweaty and his mouth dry.

Milluki sneers at that. “Obviously, idiot. But if they find out—”

“They won’t. You’re good at what you do.”

Milluki rubs the back of his neck, unconvinced. Killua can’t blame him, but he needs Milluki to help him.

Anxiety rises in his chest and he has to slide his hands into his pockets to keep from running them through his hair.

“Milluki, please.”

Milluki’s eyes shoot up to his. Killua doesn’t know what does it, but something about his voice, or maybe his expression, makes Milluki bite his cheek and shake his head.

He licks his lips, and then huffs a laugh. “Tell you what, Kil,” he says, turning back to his keyboard. “It’ll be one hell of a favour.”

Chapter 1.

Meteor City is a jagged mountain of metal and glass. It imposes over the landscape, cast in silhouette by the setting sun. A hazy cloud of pollution hangs over it like flies on an open wound.

Gon walks towards it along the edge of a dusty road, alone among a thousand others making the journey. Trucks pass by, forming an unbroken caravan from the blurry tree line behind him to a field of canvas tents and sheet metal buildings. People hang from the sides and produce jostles under tarps. A great big billowing cloud of dust forces Gon to wrap his bandana around his mouth and nose.

He stops when he reaches the edge of the shadow cast over the desert scrub. A woman with a weathered face and bandaged hands slows beside him, and the two of them look up, silently.

Somewhere in the staggeringly enormous mass, he’s going to find Ging.

The woman moves on first. It takes Gon a few more minutes, and by the time he starts on again, the shadow had crept to his shins.

The eastern market is the major entry point for the city, but Gon isn’t interested in squeezing his way through the crowd. He cuts off onto a thin path, with dry grass growing high down the center.

The buildings, jutting like crowded teeth, are packed together so tightly that not even a starving alley cat could squeeze its way through. More are under construction. Workers buzz about the scaffolding, and huge machines Gon has only ever seen in an encyclopedia gifted by Abe dig up the ground.

There are open balconies on every story. People lounge in them, wearing fancy clothes and airs.

“Welcome home, sunshine!” shouts a woman, hanging off the arm of a clearly intoxicated man with a hideous mustache.

Gon waves. “I’m just passing through.”

She snorts, covering her mouth with a ring-bejeweled hand. “Sure, of course. Just passing through.”

Gon’s breath hitches and he wants to ask what she means by that, but the two of them giggle off into the room beyond.

He waits to see if they’ll return, and when they don’t, he draws closer.

Gon approaches the building like it’s a frightening animal tensing to bolt.

He reaches out and touches the wall. The cold concrete is unyielding against the warmth of his palm.

Gon walks along the edge of the city as dusk falls around him.

The workers continue clanging, sparks bright and flying in the fading light. Gon is careful not to step underneath the swaying cranes, or cut across through dug out pits.

Eventually, he finds a door propped open with a rock. Workers stroll in and out, chatting to each other in a language Gon doesn’t understand. None of them pay him any mind as he slips inside.

The air is rot and neglect and grease. He slams a hand over his mouth and doubles over in the hallway, gagging. His eyes water, and his lungs burn as he forces himself to breathe.

A man walking out snickers down at him, and Gon’s nose wrinkles. He straightens himself intentionally, pulling the bandana back up over his nose.

Gon swipes a tear out of his eyes. The corridor stretches on, long and punctuated with bursts of light where caged fluorescents flicker. All he can see between the pockets is darkness shifting like falling sand.

A fly buzzes in the nearest light, banging itself against the walls of its confinement.

Gon swallows hard.

Just passing through.

***

Gon sits on scaffolding made of plywood and cheap metal, his feet dangling over oblivion. The bridge connects two different buildings. The bustling neon party scene on one side fades into the almost idyllic business row on the other, where plants hang on the walls and shoes squeak across vinyl flooring.

Gon takes another bite of his sandwich and clicks his heels together, watching people stream across the dizzying sprawl of other connectors below.

When he was young, Mito got him an ant farm. Sometimes it spilled sand all over his windowsill, but he still loved it. Gon could watch the workers dig for hours. The city is the same; something about it is mesmerizing.

He’s been meandering for a day and a half. Whale Island, for all its beauty, was plagued by familiarity. Gon grew up around the same four hundred faces and a bitterly frigid line to his exploration quite literally in the sand. Meteor City is incomparably dense with wonders.

He found a shop that sold glass butterfly charms in every colour of the rainbow and watched the artist make one.

It dangles around his neck, now. A luxury he can’t afford, but one he couldn’t say no to, either.

He passed by a funeral procession marching slowly through the street, percussion instruments made of wood and beads clacking. The woman leading them wore a bone white tunic and red shoes.

He looked at park from an observation window, unable to afford the fee to enter. It had a high ceiling and ivy climbing the walls. Gigantic lights fed the lawn, and a handful of couples were clustered on benches under carefully pruned apple trees.

Gon finishes his lunch and shrugs on his backpack, careful not to let it fall.

The next market he passes through has a ceiling painted to look like a midday sky. Dragons swirl through thick cumulus clouds and swoop down the walls. The stalls are open and cascade throughout the entire floor. Support columns are painted green and plastered with posters. Most of them are written in a language he doesn’t recognize.

He skirts around an open vat of oil, manned by an old woman with bags under her eyes and whiskers at the corners of her mouth. She dips meat down in strips, and they sizzle on the surface. A mother with a toddler in tow buys a bag, and pays by tapping the back of her phone to a metal plate drilled into the table.

Gon is pushed onwards by the swelling crowd.

The Hunter Association, when he finally finds it, is marked by the logo on a handleless door.

Gon hops onto the bridge to it. Both above and below, he can only spot three other entrances to the building.

A voice crackles from a speaker.

“Name?”

Gon tugs the collar of his shirt. “Gon. Kite sent me. He said to tell you ‘strawberry blackwater’ and to apologize for using an old pass code.”

“I can’t let you in with an old pass code.”

“He said I should mention I’m Ging’s son.”

There’s a long silence.

The speaker crackles, and Gon can make out indistinct words spoken too far away to be picked up clearly.

“Fine.”

The door slides open with a chime.

There’s no one on the other side. Gon pokes down the hallway, expecting to be interrupted once again by whoever was watching the door, but he’s only met by dead air.

All the hallways are painted the same grating shade of gray, and every door he tries to open is locked and beeps at him angrily. He’s steered like cattle through the building by short stairwells and dead ends until he stumbles upon a lobby.

The room is large, white, and brightly lit. There are a few people talking in clusters of two or three. Gon doesn’t recognize any of them. None of them smile when they look his way.

He fists the hem of his sleeves, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and his knuckles. There isn’t a line at the front desk.

“I’m looking for Ging Freecss.”

The woman behind the high counter snorts. “I’m sorry,” she deadpans, flipping the page of her magazine.

Gon pouts. “I want to see him. Do you know where he is?”

“Does anyone?”

Gon hums, considering the question. “He probably does.”

A ghost of a smile graces her face. She looks up and gives a snide scowl. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Gon isn’t sure what to say, so he says nothing. She goes back to reading, though he can tell by the way her eyes aren’t moving that she’s watching him peripherally. Gon bites his lip and glances over his shoulder.

Apparently accepting that he isn’t going to leave, she sighs and drops the magazine down. This time, her smile is tight and annoyed. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Ging.”

***

There was a long retired sailor on Whale Island, so old that even Abe could only shrug when asked his name. He lived alone in the hills, where yellow wildflowers spilled across the forest floor like honey, and came into town when he needed to replace a failing tool or stock up on food. He had eyebrows like scraggly wire and shuffled, though he didn’t use a cane.

One lazy summer afternoon, gnats buzzing in the air, Gon stumbled upon him plucking weeds in his back garden. Compelled by nothing but curiosity, Gon pushed up his sleeves and helped. They spent a few hours in silent companionship, and at the end of it Gon was invited into the well-maintained kitchen to share a blackberry pie. Gon breathed on a spoon and managed to stick it to his cheek; the old sailor guffawed, his nose wrinkled.

A couple of years after that, Gon found his body in the woods.

At first, it looked as though he was sleeping against one of the apple trees, but the smell, the flies, and the stillness of his chest told Gon otherwise.

Bisky reminds Gon of him.

It’s her eyes that do it; soulful and heavy, despite a body that doesn’t look a day over sixteen. Even slouched, with elbows on her knees, her presence fills the air.

The lounge is chaotic. Flashing lights cut through smoke. Music blasts, and partygoers holler. Gon slips through the crowd, offering muttered apologies as he squeezes between dancers.

Wide support columns curate his view. They cut up the lounge like a warren, giving him only snippets of her form as he makes his way over. Gon ducks under an arch and jogs down the half-flight of stairs.

He slides into the seat across from her. She jolts from whatever she was thinking about.

“Bisky?”

“Gon?”

For a moment, they float in their own bubble, separate from the rest of the world.

She leans towards him, eyes wide.

They’re interrupted by a young man tripping on his own shoes. He catches himself on Gon’s shoulder and nearly tumbles into his lap. Gon helps him back to his feet, insisting that it’s not a bother as the man blushes fiercely. He scampers off.

The conflicted swirl in Bisky’s expression is gone when he sits back down.

“You’re so much like him,” she says.

Gon’s chest swells with shy pride.

***

His throat is warm and fuzzy, and his senses are enjoyably dulled. His inhibition, thin at the best of times, has been shredded like wet paper.

Bisky is either a fantastic influence or a terrible one.

She hollers and Gon grunts, his elbow straining, sweat burning down his forehead. The woman across from him narrows her eyes and pushes harder against his palm. Gon’s muscles are clenched so tightly he can hardly breathe.

The back of his hand slams into the table. There’s a roar, and people in the crowd push him by his shoulders as he catches his breath. The woman offers him a handshake and a roguish smile as a conciliatory participation prize.

“My turn, my turn,” insists Bisky, sliding into the seat after him.

The woman, graying at her temples, quirks her lips into a smirk. She stands to whispers something in Bisky’s ear, and Bisky laughs.

Gon is knocked back by the swell of the excited onlookers; he lets himself drift, and while he doesn’t see it, he sure as hell hears it when Bisky pulls off a victory.

They sit beside each other on a quiet step. Bisky scribbles out something on the back of a napkin and shoves it into his hand.

“He’s a lightweight too,” she says.

Gon groans. “‘M fine,” he lies.

Bisky can’t hide the chuckle that bounces her shoulders. “Of course you are.” She claps her hands together. “Right. Let’s go get you settled, young man.”

The true face of the headquarters is nothing like the monotony from earlier.

Every hallway is decorated in a different style. One is lined from floor to ceiling with wooden masks, whose eyes seem to follow them. Another is snow white, with the silhouettes of deer somehow moving across the wall.

Bisky has to drag him along by the wrist; Gon keeps wandering off to gander.

Her apartment is luxurious. The ceilings are high, and from them hang ornate chandeliers. The carpet is thick between his toes, and the paint on the walls looks new. He can only stay for the night, she says, because she’s leaving in the morning and the place will be turned over to someone else.

Gon curls up on the couch and she brings him a glass of water, a pillow, and a fond ruffle of his hair.

The night wasn’t what he was hoping for. He’s disappointed he didn’t get to meet Ging, even if he had a fun time. All Bisky knows is that he’s off on some special assignment and planning to come back soon. It’s enough for Gon, though.

He’s waited his whole life. He can wait a little longer.

Chapter 2.

Gon stops outside the restaurant and triple checks the napkin. He’s supposed to meet with the friend of a friend of a friend.

Bisky’s words swam over his pounding head during breakfast. He isn’t sure whether he’s meeting with a thirty-something martial arts instructor or a guy his age with a buzz cut. Either way, he isn’t looking forward to it.

The other key detail that he missed was what job he was applying for, exactly.

He pokes his head inside. The restaurant is empty; not one of the three round chairs has a guest, and there’s no one behind the counter.

The walls are yellow stucco and the splashboard behind the workspace is functional black diamond plate. There’s a chandelier with tacky plastic jewels that reflect spots of light onto the walls and ceiling. The melamine tables are worn and chipped, and the chairs have awkwardly low backs.

It is, Gon thinks, the least welcoming restaurant he has ever had the misfortune of visiting.

There’s a bang in the back room and Gon jumps. The door swings open. A man with a willowy build and unruly blonde hair stalks up to the counter, tying his striped apron behind his back.

“Can I help you,” he sighs venomously, as though he would rather swallow spiders than even consider doing so.

“Bisky sent me,” says Gon.

The man’s nose wrinkles with disgust and he rolls his eyes. “Great.”

Gon rubs his hand along the back of his head and passes over her note. The man holds the napkin out at arms length before pulling glasses from his pocket. He mouths the words as he reads them, and Gon taps his fingers on the empty glass display case as he waits for him to finish.

“Bisky didn’t tell me what KP stood for but—”

“Kurapika. Me. My name.”

“Oh.”

Kurapika sets the paper down and pulls his glasses back like a headband. His hair is tucked, revealing dazzling ruby red earrings.

“Who are you.”

“Gon Freecss. I came here looking for my dad, but—”

“Gon, I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, that I do not care. What do you know about running?”

“Um, I’m fast, I think? I’ve never really raced anyone though, so—”

“Okay.” Kurapika chuckles a little, his eyes sliding closed and his smile genuine for the first time. Gon squirms, certain that he’s stepped over one of those invisible lines that everyone else can see. “Go tell Bisky not to waste my time.”

Gon’s heart plummets. “I’m a fast learner.”

Kurapika stares at him unflinchingly.

“Also Bisky just left this morning, so I can’t do that.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence. Kurapika stares through him, his eyes glassy and his mouth pressed flat, before untying his apron and hanging it up on a hook beside the fridge.

“You’re from outside the city.”

Gon tilts his head, wondering how Kurapika could tell.

“You’re never going to know it as well as someone who’s grown up here.”

“I’m good at—”

Kurapika holds up a finger, turning on his heels. His smile curls sharper. Kurapika shapes his words carefully, like Gon is a rabbit he’s leading into a snare. “How long did it take you to get to the Hunter’s Association headquarters?”

Gon winces. “A couple days.”

Kurapika holds out his relaxed hands, palms flat. “That’s only a seventeen minute trip from here if you know the way, Gon.”

Gon gasps. The pieces click into place, and he relishes in the rush of having figured out the test.

“No it isn’t.”

Kurapika bites his tongue. “Yes, it is.”

“It only took me twelve.”

Kurapika freezes. His eyes open wide, but he recovers quickly into a slightly less confident scowl. “You said it took you days, Gon.”

Gon nods avidly. “Yeah, the first time. Then when I came back it was only twenty minutes because I knew to use the tunnels way below everything. And then I was bored because the restaurant was closed for the night, so I went back and forth a few times.”

“And you shaved it down to twelve minutes?”

Gon beams. “Yup! It only really works one way, though. There’s this place where the boards are really close between the buildings and you can hop down and it saves you from having to do”—Gon demonstrates with his hands—��the hook thing.”

“Show me.”

***

Kurapika stands with him on the top board and shakes his head slowly. Gon can’t wipe the smile off his face. He points at the grated metal, only seven feet below.

“It’s—”

“Twelve minutes. It’s actually twelve minutes.” Kurapika licks his lips and puts his hands on his hips. He stares at the path below like he doesn’t believe it.

Maybe it wasn’t a test. Either way, Gon’s pretty sure he passed.

With practiced grace, Kurapika holds out a hand. Gon shakes it firmly. Kurapika’s teeth grind and he pulls away, clenching and unclenching his fingers.

Gon rocks back and forth from his toes to his heels. “I said I was a fast learner, didn’t I?”

“You did, you did, you absolutely did,” says Kurapika, his voice dazed. “I take it back. No guarantees, but I can try to find you something.”

Gon hollers at the victory. Someone far above shouts down at him to be quiet. Gon apologizes.

“So what now?” he asks.

For the first time, Kurapika’s smile is softened by fondness. “Try to learn the area around the restaurant as best you can. Do you have a phone?”

Gon passes it over and Kurapika presses a few buttons before tapping their backs together.

“I’ll call when I know one way or another.” He stills and rubs his thumb over his lips. “Do you have a place to stay?”

***

“It’s temporary.”

Gon leans against the wall and bites his lip. It’s the first true residential area he’s visited. Kurapika had to tap his phone on a screen to slide open the front gate.

The hallway has tiled vinyl flooring, and the mounted lights are soft. The main corridor branches off like a fractal, what must have once been a wide open space subdivided into a maze of small apartments. It’s nicer than most of the places Gon has been so far, which is to say that there are no suspiciously dark stains on bare concrete.

Across the narrow hallway the door to apartment forty-five opens. A boy with short black hair, not much younger than Gon himself, steps out, carrying a handful of empty bags.

“Like hell it’ll be temporary, Kurapika.”

The boy’s eyes widen and Gon mirrors the look.

“Just a few days. He doesn’t have anywhere—”

“Why can’t you take him in?”

With a polite wave the boy runs off down the hallway, favoring his right leg.

“Because my place is—”

There’s a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Fine.”

Kurapika leans out, a smug smile lighting up his face. “Come on in.”

The apartment is a long, narrow room. There’s a kitchen at the very back with mismatched stools. Closer, the walls are lined with cubbies full of plastic totes. There’s a low circular table between them, and one of the boxes is open on the ground beside it, folders spread out chaotically.

Next there’s an unmade bed that juts out from the wall, right beside the door to what Gon presumes is the washroom. Across from the bed is a couch, sandwiched on either side by a bookshelf and a dresser.

The man beside Kurapika is, somehow, exactly what Gon would have expected if he had only seen the room.

He’s tall but slouches, his glasses seem comically useless, and the twist of his lips is crass. His hair is dented on the side from bed head, and his button-up shirt is half untucked.

“I’m Gon, nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand with a beaming smile.

The man looks up at the ceiling in a silent prayer for patience before accepting the handshake. “Leorio.”

Gon sets his backpack down and clasps his hands behind his back. Kurapika wrings his wrists. Leorio rubs his eyes. The silence is awkward, and Gon jumps to break it.

“What are those papers?” he asks.

Leorio glances over at the table. “Records.”

“Oh. For what?”

“I’m a doctor.”

“Why?”

Leorio inhales through his nose then exhales through his mouth. His stare turns to Kurapika, who has conveniently fled to the kitchen.

Dinner is made in near silence. Gon chops the vegetables put in front of him while Kurapika and Leorio bicker in low tones over the pot on the stove. He wonders why they’re friends if they spend so much time arguing, but maybe that’s what friends are supposed to be like. Gon isn’t exactly an expert; there was only one other kid on Whale Island, and she moved away years ago for high school.

They’re eating soup, lined up on the counter stools, when Gon tries again.

“So why did you want to be a doctor?”

Leorio drops his spoon and scowls at Kurapika. “Was he being an ass earlier, or…?”

“I don’t know,” says Kurapika, covering his full mouth with a hand.

“What are you talking about?” asks Gon.

The two of them look up at him, and then to each other. Kurapika shrugs. Leorio sighs, and rubs a fleck of broth off his cheek.

“A long time ago a friend of mine got sick, but healthcare in Meteor City is expensive and shoddy, so, y’know.” Leorio twirls his hand, watch clinking. “I wanted to help.”

“Did he die?” asks Gon.

Kurapika sucks in a breath. “G—”

“Yeah,” says Leorio.

Gon bites his cheek.

He swirls his spoon in his soup, and a carrot bubbles up from the bottom. He tries to imagine what that would feel like—losing Abe was hard enough, and he’d been able to find comfort in her long life well lived. Gon’s chest unravels at the thought of losing a friend.

“I’m sorry.”

Leorio looks down. Kurapika rests a hand on his arm.

“Thank you, Gon,” says Kurapika. “Now finish your soup.”

Gon cleans the plates while Leorio digs out extra bedding from the dresser. Kurapika has left, something about needing to sleep before his next shift started.

“You’re getting the couch ‘cause I’m too tall for it,” says Leorio, trying in vain to get fitted sheets to work on couch cushions.

“Okay.”

Gon lies with his back to the room. Leorio snores, like Mito does.

Gon sleeps easy.

***

Gon flips over the work phone. It’s sturdier than his own, and designed to snap closed. He clicks it open and shut as Kurapika explains the process to him.

Again.

“Deliver the package, tap the back of your phone to theirs, if they’re the right person it’ll tell you, and if they aren’t, I’ll get an alert. Do you have any questions?”

“Nope.” Gon reaches for the cardboard box, not much larger than a slice of bread, and Kurapika slides it down the counter, out of his reach.

“I can be there in five, six if you need me armed.”

“It’ll be fine,” says Gon, stretching on his tiptoes to grab the package. He flies out before Kurapika can launch into another lecture. Lectures, Gon has discovered in the two weeks since meeting him, are something Kurapika is fond of.

He weaves through the buildings, secure in his bearings, slowly ascending staircase by staircase. Waiting for Dalzollene’s approval was boring, but it did give him time to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

The meeting itself is mundane. There’s a woman waiting right where expected, and when they click their phones together, they both receive a cheery green check mark.

He passes the box, she slips off into the crowd, and he returns back to Kurapika, where the next delivery is waiting.

Running, Gon discovers, is something he enjoys a lot.

It takes him a few days to conclude what, exactly, he’s carrying, but once he does it hardly bothers him. Who cares what other people want to do if it means Gon is getting paid to fly through the city?

There are three of them working out of the restaurant. He’s a runner, as is Zushi, a barrel-chested boy with stony expressions but a kind heart. Kurapika is their manager, and he reports to “the brass”, as Leorio calls them. Gon isn’t sure what “the brass” has to do with him, so he keeps to running.

There are a few regulars. The woman he met his first trip was one, as are twin boys down in the factories with equally devious grins and clothes that seem intentionally picked to set them apart. There’s a gangly teenager who always meets him behind a heart-pounding night club, and a woman who insists on double checking their tap every time.

Gon hears a new language every day, sees a new pastry behind shop windows. He meets people he never could have imagined, and every night his dreams are fed by pushed horizons. It’s like he’s twelve again; his heart soars with anticipation of adventures to come.

***

“Whale Island?”

Gon nods, slurping from his bowl of noodles. The woman across from him with a sleeve of tattoos and an impractically big septum piercing smiles warmly. She leans back in her creaky chair.

“I passed through there a summer, way back when.”

Gon bites back a pang of homesickness. “Yeah?”

She clasps her hands behind her head and smiles. “Just for a night. Beautiful place. Miss the sky.”

Gon does, too. He’ll return someday, though.

He calls Mito in the evening, and they talk for hours.

The mail system is unreliable, Kurapika says, but Gon still sends her the glass butterfly. It made him happy. He hopes it makes her happy, too.

***

Leorio, despite his big talk, lets Gon stay.

After a few months, Gon is grunting along with him and Kurapika as they maneuver a second bed into the apartment. There’s barely room to squeeze it in against the wall, and only about a foot is left between it and Leorio’s, but it’ll do.

***

When Gon runs into trouble, he’s unprepared. He breathes through his mouth and grips the edge of the cushioned table as Leorio’s fingers brush over his nose. He swallows blood, and the slick, thick feeling of it travelling down his throat almost makes him gag. Leorio sets it, and Gon can’t help but cry out. Kurapika winces, hovering over Leorio’s shoulder.

“What happened?” he asks, eyes stormy.

“I got into a fight,” says Gon. Leorio’s mouth quivers as he fights back a snicker.

Kurapika sighs and rubs his forehead with his index finger and thumb. “Yes, but what happened.”

Gon shrugs. “I was just walking.”

Call it a fight is honestly an overstatement; more accurately, Gon got his lights punched out and woke up with his face against the ground.

Kurapika insists he learn to defend himself, after that.

***

Firearms are rare in the city. The Ten Dons ban them outside of their own use; with the thin walls and shabby floors, it’s too dangerous to risk lackadaisical use, so confrontations come down to martial ability.

Gon coughs and lets his head loll back onto the springy wooden floor. His instructor—an old student of Bisky’s—pads closer.

“You’re completely uncoordinated,” says Wing.

“I’ve never done this before,” says Gon, rolling onto his hands and knees before bouncing to his feet.

“That much I could tell.”

Gon sputters a laugh and rubs the back of his head. Wing crosses his arms.

His teacher is coiled muscle, veiled by unassuming, baggy clothes. The studio is an extension of himself, with its wonky fans and chipped mirrors. Overhead, the neighbors shout each other down.

Gon takes a deep breath, wincing when his ribs ache, and resets into the stance Wing showed him. They move slowly; Wing explains every step as he’s doing it, and Gon occasionally interrupts to ask for clarification.

Two hours pass in the blink of an eye.

Gon ties his laces as Wing talks him through the studio’s schedule.

He learns, slowly, about the people he’s working for. Some of it is from Kurapika, but Kurapika is stingy, dispensing information in palatable drips. Most of it, he gathers from the people he meets.

The Nostrades are just one of the many families tied to Ritz Clan, which is just one of ten clans that operate quasi-governments throughout the city. They control a pocket on the border of the Ritz’s territory, and are infamous for the daughter’s hobby of collecting human body parts. A grim fascination, Gon thinks.

They are also, he learns, infuriatingly difficult to get the drop on. They smell weakness like bloodhounds, and many suspect Light Nostrade is trying to worm his way into the Ritz’s inner circle. How, exactly, no one can tell him. Smoke chokes out the sun, but no one can find the fire.

When Gon isn’t working, he’s exploring.

He charts his way through the ground level, where he finds the crematoriums, water treatment plants, and livestock pens. It’s dingy. The walls are caked in grime, and he finds more than a handful of bodies rotting in the stagnant water between the buildings. But it does provide the most direct routes he can find. Usually, it isn’t worth it to climb down and back up the stairs, but he notes the potential.

It’s normal for him, now, to go weeks without seeing the sun. His eyes burn when he does climb up to the roofs. He can’t tell if it’s because of the light or the pollution. Probably both.

His martial ability improves through hours of practice with Wing and hours more alone with Zushi. Zushi is an enthusiastic teacher, thrilled whenever Gon asks him to stay a little longer.

Sometimes his lessons are less like lessons, though, and more like excuses to show how good he is at trapping Gon in a headlock.

Kurapika begins splitting the risky jobs between them more evenly. Gon learns how to slide unnoticed through crowds, treating the markets and echoing apartment complexes like the forest.

Bisky does not return. Ging does not return. Kite does not return.

Gon keeps waiting.

Baise, one of the Neon Nostrade’s bodyguards, takes two weeks off to visit family. Kurapika suggests Gon fill in, and in a burst of generous optimism, Dalzollene lets him.

Standing outside a locked door for hours or shuffling awkwardly through crowds isn’t as much fun as running. It’s exhausting to have to assume the worst of everyone. Neon likes him, though, so Gon ends up spending more and more time in her entourage.

One afternoon, he has two hours to kill before the next run. He sits in the restaurant, flipping through a newspaper in a language he can’t read, frowning at the pictures. Zushi walks in and greets Kurapika formally. Kurapika grunts from his stool behind the counter, but his eyes stay glued to his phone.

“Hey, Gon.”

Zushi stands with his back straight and his mouth schooled into a professional scowl.

“Howdy,” says Gon, smiling up at him.

“Don’t even fucking start,” says Kurapika.

“Hello,” says Gon. He folds away the newspaper and drops it on the table. Zushi is robotic as he pulls out a chair and sits down.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out. With me.”

“Sure.” Gon reaches for his jacket. “Hey Kurapika, we’re—”

Zushi waves his hands in the air, cutting Gon off. “No, like, out.”

“Yeah,” says Gon. “Sure.”

“Like a date. Together.”

Gon brows pull together. “Was I supposed to say no?”

Kurapika blurts a laugh, which is quickly cut off by his hand slapping over his mouth. Gon fidgets with the hair at the base of his skull.

Zushi’s cheeks are bright red. The colour spills up his ears and over his forehead. “You like me?” asks Zushi, voice cracking.

Gon shrugs. “The point of a date is to find out, right?”

Zushi is a wreck as they make their way to the karaoke bar.

Gon tries to get him laughing, but it’s in vain.

Zushi is cute, Gon thinks. He’s fun, and Gon likes spending time with him. Gon isn’t sure if that’s a crush, though.

The karaoke bar is loud and bright and Gon hates it upon arrival, but Zushi is a balloon ready to burst at the next morsel of air, so Gon goes along with it. There are, unsurprisingly, no versions of the songs he knows in the Whale Island dialect. Gon flounders, trying to keep up with lyrics that are close but ever so slightly off.

When it’s Zushi’s turn, he stands with white knuckles around the microphone. The words start to scroll and his cheeks puff out. There’s a tremor to his bottom lip.

“Why don’t we leave,” says Gon.

Zushi breathes a sigh of relief and agrees eagerly.

They end up tucked in the back of a donut shop, sitting across from each other.

“Sorry, that was bad,” apologizes Zushi. Again.

“It’s fine,” says Gon, flashing a smile.

“I’m not sure this was a good idea,” says Zushi, his hands rubbing each other on the table.

Gon nods his earnest agreement. “I don’t think we’d make a good couple.”

Zushi’s face falls at the confirmation, and his gaze drifts over to the wall, plastered with amateur paintings on sale. Gon’s gut twists.

“But I like spending time with you. And someday, it’ll be really funny that we went on a terrible date.”

Zushi laughs nervously. “Really bad.”

Gon beams. “The worst.”

Zushi smiles shyly and takes a sip of his coffee. He taps his fingers on the sides of his mug for a moment, looking down at the floor. “It won’t be weird?”

Gon shakes his head. “Nope, promise. Here.”

He holds out a pinky and Zushi reluctantly takes it. Gon chants as Zushi watches him with befuddled interest.

“—sealed with a kiss!”

Zushi’s face turns beet red. “No thanks,” he says, voice tight.

Gon pushes their thumbs together. “Mwah.”

“Oh.”

Zushi sighs, his shoulders sinking down in relief. Gon can’t help but snicker. Zushi reaches over and slaps his arm.

A half-hour later Zushi has recovered to his regular self.

“So, how did you end up a runner?” asks Gon, stealing crumbs off his plate.

Zushi lifts a hand to swat him away, but Gon, ever a careful thief, escapes unscathed. Gon sticks out his tongue. Zushi gives him a stink eye before letting it go.

“I need a job while I’m training to take the Hunter exam,” he says, twisting his mug back and forth by its handle.

“Oh,” says Gon.

A plate crashes across the room. Gon springs to his feet. There’s a woman with her hands over her mouth and an embarrassed wobble in her voice as she bends down to pick up the pieces. The boy behind the counter tugs her back up by her arm, insisting she not worry about it. Reassured that no one is hurt, Gon leaves them be.

Zushi shuffles in his chair as Gon sits back down. “Your dad’s one, right? Don’t you wanna be too?”

Gon hums, a thumb on his lip. “Not really. I don’t think I have to be, so I don’t see the point of it.”

“You don’t see the point of it?”

“It’s a lot of work for perks I don’t care about.” The boozy lounge, free alcohol, and splendid apartment are not things he desires.

Zushi balks. “It’s not about the perks. It’s about being a protector of the city.”

Gon raises an eyebrow. His expression of disbelief morphs into a wince. “My dad is hardly a protector of the city.”

Zushi’s eye bulge wide. “Dude. Your dad is like, on some quest to find out what killed the last chairman. If that’s not protecting the city, I don’t know what is.”

Gon bobs his head back and forth. “Fixing the bridges? Upgrading the water mains?” He gestures vaguely towards Leorio’s practice, fourteen stories and three buildings away. “Making healthcare accessible?”

Zushi opens and closes his mouth like a fish, before snapping it shut and glowering down at his mug. His eyebrows are scrunched together like he’s trying to solve a difficult puzzle.

Gon shrugs a shoulder. “You don’t need to be a Hunter to do any of that.”

“Maybe,” says Zushi. “But I still wanna do it.” His mouth is set with determination.

Gon’s eye crinkle fondly. “For what it’s worth, if anyone should be a Hunter, it’s you.”

Zushi’s eyes flutter in shock. He sniffs and looks up at the ceiling. “Thanks, Gon.”

Chapter 3.

They issue him a firearm.

It’s coded to respond to his fingerprints and will only be activated when he’s on duty. Further precautions include a weekend of training at a facility on the other side of the city, jointly run and funded by the Ten Dons.

Gon enjoys the walk, and he enjoys the breaks from the classroom when he has nothing to do but wander around. Training is miserable, though. No one will crack a smile, and distrust leaves the air hot and sticky. By the time it’s over, he’s relieved to return home to Leorio’s cooking and loud complaining about work.

Kurapika tells him he suits it and the holster.

Gon’s face puckers at the compliment. He doesn’t like suiting something crafted to kill.

The gun has no functional affect on guard duty because nothing ever happens. Gon watches doors that stay closed and scouts streets free of danger.

In the copious, wretchedly still free time the job gives him, he begins to draw out a map of the city. He doesn’t need the guidebook, but maybe it can be a birthday present for Zushi.

At the very least, it makes his time feel less squandered.

***

Kurapika is late. Gon stands outside the locked up restaurant, rocking from the balls of his feet to his heels, humming a song Leorio’s been blasting for weeks.

Kurapika is never late.

It’s a guard night, so maybe he just forgot to meet with Gon before heading to the estate.

Gon texts, and then he calls. Nothing.

He bites his lip and scratches the back of his head. They’re going to be late at this rate.

Kurapika’s apartment is a shabby place. Gon’s shoes crunch on broken glass as he steps around buckets overflowing with water leaking from the ceiling. Kurapika can afford better, but says he doesn’t see what the point would be if he’s almost never there. (Most nights, he sleeps on the couch in Leorio’s apartment, anyway.)

Gon grabs the key tapped to the back of the mailbox and knocks as a formality before walking in. For a professional bodyguard, Kurapika is comically lax with his own security.

The room isn’t much more than a box. There’s a mattress on the floor, and a milk crate flipped over to support a microwave. Clothes, which theoretically belong in the shallow dresser, are scattered over the desk, chair, and bed.

Gon hears a scratchy moan in the bathroom.

Kurapika is doubled over the toilet. Sweat soaks through his white tank top, but he’s shivering. Hair is plastered to his forehead.

He looks up at Gon, his eyes dark and narrowed.

“Let me die,” he hisses as Gon hoists him up, slinging one of Kurapika’s arms over his shoulders. Kurapika leans heavily into Gon’s side, his free hand clasping at the fabric of Gon’s shirt.

“Leorio would cry,” says Gon, walking them towards the main room. “And he cries enough already.”

Kurapika fixes him with a sour pucker.

“Like when you sent the cat.”

Kurapika frowns and stumbles as Gon transfers him to the door frame to dig up a jacket.

“The cat picture?”

“Yeah.”

“It made him cry?”

Gon presses his lips flat.

Kurapika’s brows furrow, then his face falls into weary but fond amusement.

“I can see it.”

***

Leorio, freshly awoken from his night shift recovery, stares down a greasy Kurapika.

Kurapika pinches his lips tight, his hand still on the doorknob.

“Sit down,” Leorio sighs, grabbing Kurapika by the scruff of his tank top and pulling him back until his knees fold against Gon’s bed.

Gon drops their pill bottle haul from the bathroom cabinet beside him.

“I have to go now,” he says, shooting a worried look to Kurapika.

“Then go,” says Leorio. “I’ve got him.”

***

The Nostrade estate sits on top of the territory they control like skin on the surface of lukewarm soup. There are big glass ceilings over the ballrooms and jars of preserved body parts decorating alcoves.

Gon changes in the armory and barely swings into the front lobby before Neon and Eliza walk down the spiral staircase from the bedrooms.

“Where’s Kurapika?” asks Baise, her teeth gritted and her smile forced.

Gon twists his heel in the carpet. “Sick. We’ll be okay without him.”

Baise’s smile tightens and her eyes bulge. “You can’t make decisions like that on your own.”

“We’ll be fine,” says Gon.

Her glare is disgusted, but she drops the subject.

“Good evening,” says Gon, cheery, as Neon slides off her slippers, using Eliza’s offered arm for balance.

“Good evening Mr. Freecss,” she says, voice light and airy.

For all the time she spends out of the house, it’s rarely for her own pleasure. On nights when she’s alone, or alone as she can be, Neon is always bubbly.

They take an elevator to the theater.

It’s one of the services the Nostrade family operates. Not only do they control the drug market, but they monopolize most amenities, too, from water to light.

The elevators, old and prone to failure, are especially expensive.

Eliza and Neon chat in the balcony lobby, Baise and Gon close at their sides. There are two other high-ranking mafia members present, but Gon can’t name them or the older guards that circle them.

A young man Neon smiles brightly at is telling her disconnected facts about the theater’s architecture when Gon spots trouble.

Kurapika rubs his eyes as he makes his way over. Gon slips away to intercept him.

“What are you thinking?” he hisses, grabbing Kurapika by the elbow. Kurapika shrugs him off.

“I’m good to work. Leorio gave me medicine. I’m feeling better.”

Gon scowls his disapproval.

Kurapika’s nose is red and his eyes are puffy. His hair is damp, and Gon suspects he washed it in the sink.

“We can handle it without you.”

Kurapika doesn’t bother replying. He steps around Gon to catch up with the rest of the group.

Lights flash, and the shuffle for seats begins.

The theatre is paneled with dark wood, and the house lights are so dim that it takes minutes to adjust. There are private balconies, rows of seats, and a pit down the center of the room. The stage itself is shallow and cramped.

Beads, in long, dazzling strings, are hung along the spines of the faux dome. Every lighting effect and curtain lifts sends sparkling ripples out like waves.

Gon stands at the back of the balcony, beside the door, and Kurapika slumps beside him. From here the ballet is hidden by curtains red as dried blood, but Gon doesn’t care for it much anyway.

Eliza, Neon, and Baise sit in the front of two rows. Eliza and Neon chat idly, even as the music begins. Neon’s elaborate hairstyle bobs with every laugh. Baise taps her fingers on the armrest impatiently.

The audience settles. Before the performance, after it, and during intermission are the high risk times. Between those, it’s smooth sailing.

Gon zones out and watches the beads.

It’s twenty minutes into the performance when Neon abruptly stands, turns to face him directly, and says: “whatever you do, don’t touch your weapon.”

Gunfire.

Kurapika pushes off from the wall and nearly stumbles to the ground, but he manages to grab Eliza and yank her down as Baise does the same for Neon.

The music abruptly halts. There are screams, and the floor shakes as people run to get away.

Someone has to sweep the emergency route before they can move on. Usually, it would be Kurapika’s job.

“Wait with them,” says Gon, slipping out before he can be stopped.

Kurapika shouts, but his voice is cut off by the door closing. There’s a click as Baise locks it.

A curved hallway with creamy walls services all of the balcony seats. It’s an unbroken oval, with part of it used to access the catwalks over the stage. Gon jogs around it as it fills with a panicked crowd.

People shout and push past each other in a dash for the exits. A man stumbles to his knees, and Gon swerves to help him back to his feet.

Gon finds himself bumping into shoulders and getting in the way. It’s useless to try and fight the flow. He steps aside to the wall and lets people pass.

The shots came from inside the theatre, but Gon didn’t have a view of the seats. They could have been fired by a licensed guard, or someone might be running around with a cracked weapon. Neither possibility is good news.

He doesn’t know the target, and he doesn’t know if bystanders are injured.

Kurapika will have almost certainly reported the incident by now, so backup will be on its way. With so many unknown variables, staying put until then might be the smart decision—or, they might be in harm’s way.

Gon rubs his temples. There isn’t an obvious answer. Combined with Neon’s ominous warning—if anything working for the Nostrades has taught him, it’s to listen to her warnings—he doesn’t know what to do.

The crowd is thinning and being still increases his visibility, so Gon moves on. When he reaches the heavy curtain separating backstage from the audience, he draws it back without hesitation.

No one.

There are big stage lights, carts full of props, and painted set pieces.

Gon passes by the door out to the catwalks. A bucket of fake snow is tipped over beside it.

His phone rings. Kurapika. Gon snaps it closed.

On the other side of the next curtain, the hallway is empty. The silence is eerie, dropping over him like a shroud.

Gon has never seen it still like this before. The unfamiliarity, the warping of space he knows into something he does not, sets his teeth on edge.

Usually, he appreciates the gentle curve. In hand-to-hand combat, seeing your opponent when they’re still far away can minimize conflict. But once firearms are introduced, it just means that every step could be the one that put Gon in the line of a bullet.

His hands shake from the adrenaline pumping through his system, and he walks on the balls of his feet, as though he’s barefoot in the forest.

There’s a thump ahead.

A chill runs down Gon’s spine. His nostrils flare. He inches his hand closer to his lapel.

Someone is around the bend.

A man appears. He takes a step forward, graceful as a sylph, and not a sound is made when his foot falls. The tilt of his sharp shoulders is predatory, like a cat coiling to spring. Dangerous and…

Beautiful.

His eyes are sapphires, and the curve of his lips is soft. His suit is tailored perfectly to his form. The braid over his shoulder is white as crisp ocean foam.

Gon can hardly breathe.

“Who are you,” asks the man. He pops the knuckles of one hand with his thumb.

A fleck of blood drops.

Gon grinds his teeth together, mind racing.

“Are you choosing to get involved or not?” he asks, bored and impatient.

“Your buttons are done up wrong,” says Gon, pointing to the man’s jacket.

The man’s eyes widen in what is either shock or disbelief. And then he glances down.

Gon closes the distance with a leap and slams his knuckles into the man’s solar plexus.

His feet are swept out from under him and he’s slammed against the wall, toes dangling. The detached coldness in the man’s eyes is gone, replaced by hot fury.

“What the he—“

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

The intensity in the air evaporates away.

The man’s mouth is slack. His eyes narrow into a squint, searching Gon’s with naked bewilderment.

Gon holds his breath.

The man lowers him so that his toes can touch the ground.

“You could have,” says Gon.

“Because—you—who does that?”

Gon hums thoughtfully, and loses his fight against the smile trying to curl his lips.

“So you were curious, too.”

The man blinks, then closes his eyes and gives a long, shaky sigh. With a gentle shove, he lets go of Gon entirely and backs up, like an archer relaxing his bow string.

“Just tell me who you are,” says the man, leaning against the wall on the other side of the hallway.

“Gon.”

The man stares at him with a mix of horror and confusion.

A moment of silence passes. Gon pats his hips, unsure of where to put his hands.

“Do you have a death wish, Gon?”

“That’s not fair.”

The man’s eyes flutter and he gasps a shocked laugh.

“What?”

“I told you my name, you tell me yours.”

The man purses his lips. He leans his head against the wall and looks up, as if the light moldings will give him answers.

For a few seconds, Gon doesn’t think he’s going to answer.

“Killua.”

Killua.

“Nice to meet you, Killua.”

Casually leaned back, he doesn’t seem nearly as dangerous. Still beautiful, though.

“You’re weird, you know that?” says Killua, his voice raspy.

“I’m not sure you’re one to talk.”

Killua sniffs a laugh. “Takes one to know one, I guess.”

Gon laughs.

Killua’s eyes shoot wide as saucers.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head.

Gon shakes his head and waves his hands placatingly. “Nothing, just funny.”

Killua scowls. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” says Gon.

Killua raises an eyebrow. “Sure.”

There’s the click of a door opening further down the hallway. Gon’s head swivels.

Backup, probably. That, or a peeved Kurapika on his way to shout Gon down the second they’re out of Neon’s earshot.

Killua stands with his hand on the frame of an open door.

Gon stumbles back a step, taken aback by the dramatic movement.

For a moment their eyes meet, and something in the air shifts. It’s a comfort and a bone deep knowing so strong that Gon’s heart aches.

“Will I see you again?” he asks, hands floating uselessly.

Killua runs a hand through his hair. His eyebrows furrow, and he sucks in a breath as though to speak.

And then like a switch flicking, his eyes glaze over with the same detachment from earlier. “No, and it would be better if you forgot you ever did.”

And then he’s gone.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #killua zoldyck #gon freccs #killugon #fanfic #submission

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ts-akhmim · 4 years

Text

Episode 12 | “Beauty got problems and Brawn got problems”- Autumn

wow. just wow. i sure did just do that and im so proud. i proved to myself im a deserving winner tonight. i will fight to the death to get my allies to the end because lets be real i sure am not making it KJSDFLASFLA.

i was going to start this confessional out in a celebratory tone but YOU KNOW WHAT I STILL AM BECAUSE WE JUST DID THAT. I typically like to be my own biggest hater and drag myself in my confessionals a lot just as a way to clock myself and try to see the other perspective, but BITCH I KNOW I SNAPPED THIS ROUND AND IF YOU DONT THINK I DID LEMME HIT YOU WITH SOME FACTS; FACT: I CORRECTLY USED MY ADVANTAGE AND WON IMMUNITY DURING WHAT WAS A PERTINENT ROUND https://media.tenor.com/images/6c2f88af1bd5a24853849df11a566947/tenor.gif FACT: UPON FINDING OUT I HAD IMMUNITY I KNOW DEVON WAS COMING TO ME TRYING TO KEEP ME UNDER HIS WING, OH YEAH ADAM, JUST VOTE IN THE MINORITY, AND GO ALONG WITH BEING AT THE BOTTOM, AND IT WAS M E DECIDING I DIDNT WANT TO DO THAT AND SPILLING THE TEA THAT LED TO GETTING AN OUTCOME I WANTED https://media.tenor.com/images/6c2f88af1bd5a24853849df11a566947/tenor.gif FACT: it was ME who also went to autumn/ali and started planting seeds of doubt in their minds about jake and it's turning out it's helped me solidify my position with them better https://media.tenor.com/images/6c2f88af1bd5a24853849df11a566947/tenor.gif FACT: It's also still me who's aligned with 2 or 3, if you include jake, of the biggest targets left in the game and i already have augusto and amir sliding in my pms trying to play pity me boo hoo hoo like gorl plea im not buying it but yall wanna keep singing kumbaya? well ill sing the encore and be twice as fake as yall (i DO love them both as people just as a disclaimer but from a game perspective? they're beasts!) https://media.tenor.com/images/6c2f88af1bd5a24853849df11a566947/tenor.gif ok, boasting over, time to hop off cloud nine and get back to reality because FACT: we all just made a big move, so the target on all of us, including myself, just went up, FACT: i could easily be delusional and maybe i had NOTHING to do with this blindside SJDFA but lemme bask in my fake glory anyway itll be funny to read after at least... FACT: The war has truly only just begun, that was a great victory but if me/ali/autumn are really in it like we're saying, we may still have another idol on our side, but we're gonna need more than that, it's kinda funny we're one brain, one brawn, one beauty and i think that speaks volumes i truly love these gals and think this is a good game route for me. some people might think it's foolish of me to align with the big threats and go deep with them, but who's to say im not worthy of being in their company? if it wasnt for my social connection with devon he wouldve never told me the plan, and then autumn is the smart one so she kept us composed and together, and then ali was the brawn he had the idol and got the job done. So im gonna just try and stick with this for now, hopefully they feel the same and dont try to oust me right away because then ill look like a whole fool and a half OOP, and ill plaster my fake smiles on for everyone else and kiki it up we can haha hehe all day long but i wont hesitate to vote them out because trust and believe.

Last Day 30 was my last day playing TS: Guyana, so this is a nice feeling to still be here. But now the fun kicks in. Jakey helped orchestrate the Devon blindside with the Ali idol, so I guess we're even. And now, assuming Jakey is still actually with me, which I think he is, I think we can run this game for the longrun. He has access to Ali, Autumn, and Adam and I have access to the three Beauties. I truly see this being beneficial for the both of us in terms of keeping one another safe and allowing us to get to the final six unharmed. Final six is important for me. I'm not sure if I've admitted this in an earlier confessional or not, but I have the Legacy Advantage (thank you Jordan Pines!) that I can use at six. So I just need to survive two more tribals. If I can do that, I have a seat in the final five, probably two more rounds to survive before getting to FTC, and then I have a shot. I really need to start building a resume if I want to win this game, but I think I have a chance. I really need to get Ali and Autumn out in these next three rounds. If I can do that, I see myself being able to make the end with the likes of Jakey, Kendall, Augusto, and maybe Adam (Amir will become a threat at five or six I think) and then I have at least a shot at the win, but I really need to keep my head down, keep the social game going, and make a move or two here.

so. i think i have some explaining to do JKLASDFA huh? i was on calls for the like three hours before tribal so i didn't really confess at all.. in fact i think in my last confessional i said that we were voting 4-3-3 which did not happen at all so i think i need to fill in some gaps huh? so... i have known since like 11pm EST yesterday that i was getting votes tonight. devon told, adam told me and then told autumn, but then autumn didn't want to tell me until later in the day which i honestly do think was fair so we weren't spiralling for hours. we were all sus of jake all day (and lowkey i still am?)... like i dont know when his energy because so shady, plus devon may have told adam that jake was in on the plan? plus he kept saying stuff like the vote has gone "back to kendall" and kept pushing me not to play the idol... something does not add up right with that. anyway so that demonic group of five voted for me, and lied SO much to make me leave with my idol? like why not just make me paranoid, leak the vote to adam or jake then vote autumn get me to waste an idol and then autumn leaves? now that would've been a good move hello?! but that group does not know how to blindside, idols have sabotaged their plans twice and amir/augusto should consider themselves lucky that they are still in the game. also kendall fought me at tribal because i was being cocky... but she literally tried to blindside me into leaving with an idol hello?! i appreciate that she thought she was going, but she is zero to too much way too quick. augusto can literally suck my ass our call was him and his bad excuse for jury management, like can he at least be like amir and pretend to want to work with me? anyway so moving forwards, i wanna vote out kendall or augusto this round. amir can stick around because he at least pretends to wanna work with me plus he is a threat too. idek i just want all the fake people in this tribe gone. i will not vote for adam, autumn or jake. i will vote for any of the others, im not fussed about the order in which i do so. im living on borrowed time in this game and im going to make it count

Sorry this is two parts I thought my friend was gonna die lol but she's fine. Remember kids, there's no dick worth dying over and a straight guy rejecting you is a blessing in disguise these days (considering the alternatives).

Now on with the show hahaha

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1-AkqQGDYzlccP1VFwpPNo-aCQPFmoj9Z https://drive.google.com/open?id=1bVcBqq0JL2-ybgTiS2vOrYURbCG0kIxh

youtube

thots on final 8: augusto: would cut me to win, literal love of my life, super kind and empathetic and genuinely good person, i think his social game is fire and i think he has a way with people, and downplays how smart and cutthroat he really is constantly, but i love the kid so much ali: the brit has to die ali again: okay im kidding i like him a lot but tbh hes a smart fucking guy, i think hes super cool and and also a badass with that idol play, hes a force but he has to go soon autumn: lana stan, coolest girl around, queen of the social game, queen of likability, queen of controlling rounds and letting others take the hit, a damn threat, she could win this game tj: sweetheart, we need each other in the game rn, i need need need to secure his loyalty adam: hes kinda crazy but he has a good heart, kinda just following ali and autumn rn, not gonna win in the end kendall: i have a soft spot for this crackhead, she deserves the world, probably cant win at the end but im happy i met her, shes on my side and a vote i can use moving forward jakey: love him to death would die 4 him, would beat me in the end and at immunities also the fact that kendall augusto and i are all still here is so fucking funny, like bitch how kejwnfkewjnfkejnwfkjnewkfnewk cockroaches

So numbers on surface Jakey - adam - autumn - Ali Kendall - Amir - Augusto - tj Round 5: Adam - Ali - autumn Amir - kendall - Augusto In the middle: jakey - tj So I just have to work on them

when i tell you ive been hooting and hollering what the fuck is going on in the survivor on this day, who the hell would've thought id win my third individual immunity in one season, gorl that is probably the most 2020 thing to happen in this game. although two of them pretty much were dumb luck afdjks either that or maybe im doing a little better than i think i truly dont know, and the touchy subjects clocked me on THAT as; what was it they said, 'the person they forget is in the game' and also 'least aware of their place' okay well yes im AWARE ive BEEN lost and asking for help this whole game gorl! But that's great, that's how i want people to view me, because uh... i just won 3 of these things now and that alone is reason to target me, granted im doing my best to play it up like dont worry! im just a dumb dumb! and clearly theyre eating that up like crazy, because it's both just the truth but also strategy if i keep playing it up, so watch out meryl, adam's in town! also LOVE that i knew i was gonna get most likely to have the idol i dont know how many times i have to say it IM INNOCENT AND BEING FRAMED FOR A FOOL and ooh dont even get me started on all the other tea it spilled, i actually got the LEAST of the bad things, i guess i kinda exposed myself because i made most of my chops at amir, augusto, and tj oop, so they probably didnt like that but they really left me no choice strategically, screw with me, i screw back, simple as that. As far as the vote too ummm.....it's been quiet tonight on my end so hope that doesnt make me a fool because this time last vote was a disaster, at this point im still thinking i need to stick with ali and autumn because this vote is so pertinent, after this a solid 4 can take it, or get as far as we can because im always keeping my options open OOP, but for the most part i do want to stay true to my good judys for now, but i know someone between amir/augusto/kendall has an idol and if they were smart theyd use it this round, so i need to convince the others of this because im sure its gonna happen since they dont think ali has one anymore hopefully but who knows, if it were up to me we'd vote augusto or tj this vote. I think amir has the idol and i think he's going to play it for himself this round or i could see augusto playing it for him, so if i can make anyone belive that very realistic scenario, we can get one of the ones theyd least expect just to ensure us the numbers for next round, but what do i know, they just forget im in the game anyway! so hopefully tomorrow someone tries to give me the tea and we get a plan together or else i spilled all the tea last round for nothing which is worst case scenerio

yesterday was a lot. I went an apology tour to everyone involved in my blindside and honestly it was annoying. the fact that augusto basically got me to apologise to him on our call when he blindsided me was irritating, like he just let me sit there and take fault when the point of the call was for him to take accountability. talking to him is like talking to 2018 me, he has such social ability, but he just takes zero accountability and is just so infuriatingly wishy-washy. he is all of my worst attributes as a player rolled into one. i also... almost won immunity? which is crazy, but I just found yesterday and the way immunity played out so frustrating, but I've spoken about it enough in my host chat enough. just know i feel robbed, slighted and if I get rocked out this round when i should have immunity. i will throw a fuss again SAJDKFLAS. anyway so this vote is gonna be a mess. tj and autumn now have a blood feud, Kendall and jake came to a head this round. so that's four people whose name i hopefully am not their number #1 target, plus i don't think adam is targetting me? but this vote is going to be a mess, because it very very easily could be 4-4, where there is an idol on both sides of the trench. i have a gut feeling amir and his sock puppets are going to vote autumn. it makes sense, tj wants her gone and the beauties need him reeled in. so i think im going to have to idol autumn, but that is risky because if the 4 vote jake... im going to rocks, and if they vote me, im reliant on jake going to rocks. but i just wanna send all these people backing, especially augusto. amir i'm trying to shake him that me and him have to stick together, but i also could vote for him. i literally just want to make F7 and to vote someone who just voted me out. that is literally all i want. if i go home i will be literally devastated

So like… there’s the dream and there’s the harsh reality which is something this round really talk me. The dream is obviously me winning, making all these big moves, and doing THAT. However, my reality? Could very well be that people don’t see me as a winner at all and it makes me a little disappointed but I gotta prove them all wrong. The vote last round being Ali was honestly mostly my doing and I’m proud of that. My ideal boot order is Autumn/Ali then Jakey then Autumn/Ali and that is GOING to happen because I’m putting that into the universe. When it comes to Autumn and Ali, I would rather Ali go but I think the safest bet while still having a target leave would be Autumn. In a way too, I do know Amir wants Ali out moreso alongside Jakey but I wanna separate my game from Amir so yeah. Also Adam calling me a fake ass bitch even tho my drunk ass was telling him I liked him was a gag… but oh well.. Nothing grinds my gears more than people thinking I’m not being genuine with how I feel towards them but if that’s what he thinks, maybe that’s what he’ll get idk… i feel petty and mad for some reason over it… BUT ANYWAY, I just want to survive this vote. I hope Kendall doesn’t go but she also said she wants me to win over Amir so yay?

If I die, I just wanna say I regret nothing and I have full confidence that the right person will win this season. So not TJ, Augusto, or Amir lmaaaaooo. Amir entering the two time winner chat??? Over my dead fucking body. If there's one thing Imma do it's poison a jury

Ali or Autumn... who shall we vote? Stay tuned!

Is Jess really Canadian... stay tuned!

god. today is gonna be another nailbiter and i want to confess first. so the plan is to idol autumn and vote out kendall, which sucks because i do now like kendall. i just think its the safest way of avoiding them playing an idol i guess, i don't even know. i just am sick of fighting in this game every single round me and autumn have had to fight to make it past. the fact jake is throwing a fit in my pms becuase im not idoling him is infuriating because... i'd love to idol myself? like? anyway im over it. if i go home, i hope tj can finally stop his blind fixation on autumn and i, that augusto can actually be accountable for one entire thing, amir can stop his pity party and show awareness for his threat level and that kendall... well actually kendall is fine. i just feel like im a mum trying to get all my kids to fit in a minivan and to put their seatbelts on, like can they get it together.

youtube

I don’t think anyone is ready for this round or at least what’ll come of it... I’m expecting an explosion or a mess given Jakey thinks he’s staying, TJ has been lied to, and hopefully Autumn or Adam leave next... its all a mess. If Jakey goes, I’m planning a 2-2-2 split between Autumn and Adam where we maybe get Autumn out but Adam leaving doesn’t hurt either.

me with biggest villian, biggest backstabber, thinks they are running the game, is running the game, and is gonna win at the end http://prntscr.com/ss4h5q

literally god demolished and brutalized worse than anyone in this game tonight in that touchy subjects yet I’m also the one comforting like half the tribe over their answers even tho I ADKWNWQJN WAS ATTACKT LIKE this cast literally thinks im a psychopath fjebwfjenkn but im not gonna play victim over my superlatives i just have to use this target on my back strategically

I want destruction AHHHHHHHHHHhhHhHhHhHhHhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Okay so, they think me or Augusto have the idol, so they can vote kendall, to ensure our idol isn’t played and that me and Augusto and tj are forced into rocks, and im just like trying to get everyone to stop replying to ali cuz hes smart and he will psychoanalyze and figure out who to play the idol on and like he has to play it on autumn and not himself so pls pls pls kkjnkjenfs let this work

#BackWithVengeance

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notsoguiltykpop · 7 years

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I would love to read a ghost's Yoongi or maybe JK POV but that level of angst would probably shatter my heart. (I would read, enjoy and love it anyway lol) - 🍑

I feel like you probably didn’t want this, but here you go~

The Ghost in Apartment 1403 drabble from Jungkook and Yoongi’s point of view

Jungkook slid the door to Namjoon’s hospital room open slowly. Yoongi had gotten a phone call almost as soon as they had set foot in the building, giving him some time alone with Namjoon. It was always weird visiting him like this, seeing the IV stuck in his arm, hearing the whirring of the machines and the beep-beeping of the heart monitor. Jungkook didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

He hoped he wouldn’t have to.

He knew it was stupid to keep hoping that Namjoon would one day open his eyes and life would return to the way it had been. The doctors had been very clear that that was highly unlikely, and that even if Namjoon did wake up one day, he probably wouldn’t be the same person he had known. People didn’t often recover from this sort of thing, Jungkook knew that.

“Hey, Namjoon.” He said as he pulled a chair over so he could sit by Namjoon’s bed, it had become something he didn’t even think about anymore over the last five months. “It’s me, Jungkook. I’m here just like I always am every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Are you sick of me yet?” He paused as though waiting for a response.

“That girl–the one that knew us in highschool that I don’t remember taking a math class with? She showed up at the studio today, I think she must have missed you. I showed her around, she’s really nice and kind of cute. I still can’t believe you never mentioned her.” Another pause.

“You and Yoongi must have fought over her. That’s why she said she and Yoongi have a complicated relationship, right? She picked you over him, so maybe that’s why you never talked about her. I’m surprised we never run into her here, though. She clearly cares about you, so she must visit.”

“Anyway, enough about her. Work has been crazy busy recently. Yoongi and I have been picking up as many jobs as we can, but we can’t keep up. And I think Yoongi still blames himself for what happened, thinks if he hadn’t lost his temper with you that you somehow wouldn’t have gotten hit by that car. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I can tell. But don’t worry about us, Namjoon. We’re managing. It’d just be easier if you were here.”

Jungkook looked down at his hands for a moment before reaching over and holding Namjoon’s limp one; he read online that was supposed to help. “You’ll get through this. You have to.”

It was then that Jungkook thought, for just a second, that Namjoon’s hand slowly and slightly gripped his own.

Three weeks later, there was no improvement. Jungkook had wasted no time in calling a nurse, and the next thing he knew he was shoved out into the hall as a doctor hurried in and tests were done. He wasn’t technically family, so couldn’t over hear anything to do with Namjoon’s medical records. Taehyung came to wait with he and Yoongi only for the three of them to be told hours later that it probably didn’t mean anything.

“They’re going to monitor him closely. There was a spike in brain activity, but he still isn’t responding to his name or acting on command.” Namjoon’s sister had told them. “The best thing we can do is keep visiting him and talking to him like we have been, and not jump to any conclusions.”

Yoongi visited him one late night after a fight with Jungkook. He couldn’t believe how naive Jungkook could be sometimes. To have let a complete stranger into Namjoon’s office, to believe such a stupid lie like they knew each other in high school… Though, maybe that was on Yoongi, too. You hadn’t been the only one to lie to Jungkook that night.

Yoongi had known perfectly well what an impact his words had on Jungkook. Ever since they first met, when Jungkook was still an awkward middle schooler and Yoongi was going through his angsty-punk phase, Jungkook had always taken his older friends’ words to heart. Yoongi knew this, knew that if he said it was true that Jungkook likely wouldn’t even question it, and he had lied to his face.

Yoongi wasn’t sure why he couldn’t bare to speak the truth that night. Maybe it was because while talking to you, Jungkook had looked the closest to happy that he had been in a while. What was the harm in letting him think you were an old friend?

And he had known you in middle school, so you weren’t just some stranger. Back then, you were sweet, cried easily, and the only time you made a fuss about anything was when you were standing up for someone else, even for Yoongi one time. You couldn’t stand injustice. You didn’t have a malicious bone in your body back then, so how bad could you be?

But a lot could change in the years that you hadn’t seen each other. Yoongi certainly had. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that people would crush anyone they thought they could get away with, so Yoongi had made himself as prickly as possible to make it clear to the world that he wasn’t someone to mess with. In the process, he had pushed people away and closed himself off. It was something Namjoon was always lecturing him about, saying that he should be kinder, give people the benefit of a doubt sometimes.

“Hey Namjoon, it’s Yoongi.” He said as he dragged a chair over to sit by Namjoon. “Namjoon, I…I can’t do this.” He said as he propped his elbows on the bed and sunk his head into his hands. “I’ve been trying so hard to look out for them, I have. But Taehyung has been MIA for the last three weeks, he’s been ignoring Jungkook and my texts and calls. The only reason we know he’s okay is because Jimin ran into his mother at the grocery store. She said being around us is just too hard for him right now. I guess I get that.” Yoongi took a shaky breath. “I think he and Jungkook fought about something before he cut us out, I don’t know about what, though. You’ve always been better at sorting out that kind of thing than me. They talk to you.

“I just make things worse. Like tonight, when I should have been telling Jungkook that everything would be fine, that we’d figure it out somehow, what did I do? I blamed him. Oh, by the way, your album has been leaked onto the internet under a different name, and it’s my fault. None of this would have happened if I’d been honest with Jungkook. But I was just trying to protect him, Namjoon. That’s all. I didn’t know.” Yoongi gritted his teeth, he needed to pull himself together. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Namjoon.”

Yoongi’s phone started ringing, and he was about to send it to voicemail when he saw who it was.

“Jungkook.” He said, bringing the phone up to his ear.

“Yoongi, it’s me.” He recognized your voice instantly. “Look, Jungkook is here–in my apartment, I mean. He’s drunk, and I don’t think he knows which way is up let alone where he lives. Can you come get him?”

After retrieving Jungkook from your apartment–he still couldn’t believe you were living where Namjoon used to, it took your stalking to a whole other level–Jungkook suggested getting something to eat. He still seemed a little on the tipsy side, but at least he could walk on his own.

Yoongi stopped right before they entered the restaurant, looking down at his shoes. “Jungkook.” He said, and the younger turned around, tilting his head to one side and raising an eyebrow quizzically.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” Yoongi said. He had asked himself what Namjoon would say he should do, and the answer was simple: apologize. “It wasn’t your fault, not at all. I never should have said it was. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.”

Jungkook studied him for a moment. “If you want to point fingers, it’s her fault the songs leaked, not yours or mine.” Jungkook said. “But that isn’t the only thing you’re saying sorry for, is it?”

That was the unnerving thing about Jungkook; he could read Yoongi even when he was sure there was nothing to give away what he was thinking or feeling. “Sometimes I still wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t lost my temper with him that morning.” Yoongi said quietly, still not looking directly at Jungkook.

“And I’ll probably always wonder if she would have gotten those files if I hadn’t literally unlocked Namjoon’s door for her.” Jungkook slung an arm around Yoongi, something that had always mildly annoyed the elder. It was a reminder that Jungkook was a good head taller than him, and wasn’t something Yoongi appreciated. “But we can’t beat ourselves up over ‘what if’s.’ We’re doing our best, and you know what? I think Namjoon would be proud of us.”

Yoongi nodded. Jungkook was right, they were both doing their best in the situation, and that was what counted. That was what Namjoon would have cared about, and there was nothing more that they could do.

“Let’s get some lamb skewers, I’m starving.” Yoongi said, ducking out from under Jungkooks arm and heading for the door to the restaurant. “You’re paying, by the way.”

“Hah, no way. You owe me.” Jungkook snorted, sending a text to Taehyung to meet them there. Maybe he’d show up, or maybe he wouldn’t, but it had been too long since the three of them had seen each other outside of a club or the hospital. If there was one thing Jungkook was sure of, it was that Namjoon would want them to be happy, and that was what Jungkook wanted to be that night.

#the ghost in apartment 1403 #drabble #namjoon drabble #rapmonster drabble #the ghost in apartment 1403 drabble #jungkook drabble #yoongi drabble

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sunshinedaisiesandmoonlight · 7 years

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Lost and Found (Part 3)

The third installment of Lost and Found Part One Part Two

CassianXFem!Reader

Summary: Cassian is assigned to watch a new recruit and he doesn’t trust her until he doesn’t have a choice.

Warnings: Mentions of torture

Reader’s POV

A week had passed since you first woke up in captivity. You couldn’t count how many times the black droid had tried to coerce the location of the memory card out of you. The Imperial Officer came to visit you at least once a day to see if you changed your mind about betraying the rebellion, but you weren’t breaking easily. Your voice hurt from screaming and you hadn’t had a shower in days so the grime of the past week’s events seemed like a permanent layer on your skin. You lifted your head and looked at the cell walls before resting your head back on the seat’s uncomfortable headrest. You wanted to think it was just a nightmare and that you would wake up in your room at the rebel base, but every morning you woke up to the harsh reality of being a prisoner of war. Not for the first time, you thought of Cassian, if he had made it out and back to the base, whether he got the memory card to the rebels, whether he thought of you. It had occurred to you that you may have developed feelings for him, despite your best efforts. You knew it was dangerous to form attachments to people in a war. You knew things like this could happen, and you could lose them. But you couldn’t help it. Cassian had become a constant in your life, someone to lean on, and it hurt that he didn’t trust you. It hurt that he would never know how much he meant to you. You started to cry as you realized that no one was going to come rescue you.

“I’m sorry Cassian.” You whispered. The tears leaked down the side of your face, leaving visible trails in the mix of dirt and blood. As if on cue, the door opened and in walked the Imperial Officer, the black droid accompanying him.

“Well, it seems like we finally made some progress with you.” He smirked as he approached you. Bending down so that his face was level with yours, he made the same request that he did every day, “Tell us where the memory card is.” You looked at him through blurry vision and said nothing, your mouth clamped shut. The officer waited a few moments with an expectant look on his face, then he sighed and waved over the droid, which was already ready for the torture planned for this response from you. As the droid got closer, you started to squirm, dreading what was coming. The officer backed against the wall and watched as the droid hovered closer, your squirms and whimpers seemingly enjoyable to him.

“Alright, Alright!!! I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you!!!” You shrieked before the droid made contact. The officer grinned menacingly before stepping up to shut the droid down. He looked over at you expectantly as you sighed in relief. “You have to come closer; it hurts to talk.” The officer stepped closer to you, the greed in his eyes evident. “Closer.” Your voice was so hoarse from the past week. He leaned in to hear you.

You had no intention of telling him where the rebel base was. If this was to be your last act of defiance against the Empire, then you may as well deafen one of its prized officers.

“GUESS AGAIN YOU FILTHY PIECE OF FODDER!!!” The officer lurched back at the loudness of your voice. You glared at him with every scrap of defiance you had left, smiling ever so slightly. He rubbed his damaged ear drum as he glared back. He walked suddenly over to you and before you had time to register what was going on, he knocked you out with a swift punch to the side of your head.

Cassian’s POV

Cassian had requested permission to rescue you immediately after he heard the transmission. General Draven denied the request twice and so Cassian had to appeal for an audience with Mon Mothma for permission. Because she was so busy with government diplomacies in the Galactic Senate, she was a hard woman to meet with, even as a Captain. Cassian had to wait three days until he could finally meet with her.

“Captain, I don’t think we can send a team out to rescue Y/N. It’s too risky and we don’t have the amount of people or resources to support a rescue mission like this.” Cassian’s heart felt like it dropped about ten feet at this news, but he wasn’t done trying to save you.

“I’ll go alone. I don’t need a whole team to do this, just K2. She got us the memory card, we have to try to get her out.” The argument had a small bit of merit, but it was the pleading look present in Cassian’s eyes that convinced Mon Mothma to let him go. She knew that he would most likely try to save you anyway. At least this way she could keep an eye on him.

Cassian ran back to his quarters and grabbed the necessities: the coordinates of where you were, a blanket, a spare shirt, and two jackets before alerting K2 of the plan.

“The statistical probability of us being caught is around 88.3%. I don’t think this is a good idea.” Cassian ignored this information and continued on his way to his ship. K2 sat down with Cassian in the cockpit and began to start up the ship as Cassian closed the door. Soon they were on their way to the Destroyer you were imprisoned on.

Cassian switched on his radio once they were at light-speed and tuned it to the frequency of the bug the rebellion had planted on you. He got the frequency just as you screamed in the ear of the officer.

“GUESS AGAIN YOU FILTHY PIECE OF FODDER!!!” Then Cassian heard the sickening sound of bone hitting bone and silence. He flipped off the radio and sat back down in his seat trying to focus on how he was going to get you out.

Awhile later, they pulled out of hyper-speed and saw the massive Star Destroyer looming in before them.

“I hope you have a plan.” K2 muttered.

“Yeah, me too.”

Reader’s POV

You woke up in a daze, still in the chair. The flickering lights hurt your eyes. The thought flitted through your mind that you may be concussed, but it hurt to think that hard. Everything was out of focus.

You weren’t sure how much longer you were stared at the wall in front of you when the door opened. They are here to kill me, was the only thought that crossed your mind. A figure appeared at your side and you flinched away from it.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay it’s me.” The soothing voice seemed familiar and too good to be true.

“Cassian?” You asked weakly. You felt the restraints on your wrists and ankles pop open and you began to fall forward but were caught by a strong arm.

“Yeah it’s me, it’s Cassian. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Okay.” You mumbled as your arm was hoisted around Cassian’s neck and his other hand held you up from around your waist. The two of you made your way out of the cell and down the hallway. The officers and troopers that noticed the two rebels escaping didn’t make it very far. K2 wasn’t far behind Cassian, and while he didn’t have a blaster, he could toss the Imperial troops around like rag dolls. You made it back to the ship with virtually no problems, but before you could say anything else, you passed out from the effort it took to get to the ship.

The next time you woke up, you were in the med-bay of the rebel base. You had an IV in both of your arms, and your head was wrapped up in white gauze. Your stomach ached, but it didn’t matter; you were overjoyed that you were out of the horrible dark cell. Turning your head, you noticed a person sitting in the chair who was watching you. Cassian jumped out of his chair when he saw you move your head.

“Thank the maker, you’re okay. How are you feeling?” He asked with intensity. The look in his eyes shocked you; it was almost desperate.

“I’m okay, a little banged up but hey, could have been worse right?” Your voice sounded scratchy but it was much stronger than before. “Thank you, for coming back for me.” Your eyes met again. Cassian grabbed your hand in his and leaned on your bed.

“I’m sorry for not trusting you. And… I’m sorry for not coming to get you sooner. I just. I didn’t realize what it would be like to lose you until it happened. I…” Cassian seemed to be at a loss for words. You smiled.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay. I hoped you were. I couldn’t stop thinking about you—“ Before you could finish your sentence, Cassian leaned in and kissed you. Your free hand found its way to Cassian’s hair as you kissed him back. When he finally pulled away, you both were grinning.

“Do you trust me now?” You said with a playful hint to your voice.

“Completely.”

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! :) This was my first fic I’ve written and I am really excited about how it turned out.

#Cassian andor #star wars #rogue one #cassian andor x reader

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agentexeider · 8 years

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Zootopia: Kaiden’s Story...Chapter 12: Crossroads

The black was empty for a while, a void, endless and silent. Kaiden felt light, floating on an abyss. In a way, this was better. It was finally quiet, the pain gone, the worry and care of existence faded away. Facing potential eternity with only what he brought with him. Alone on an endless sea, bound no longer by time or space, at last it was over.

The void filled up with thoughts, images, feelings, memories both pleasant and horrible. Kaiden began walking through the events of his life, wondering if this was what mammals had always meant by ‘lives flashing before their eyes.’ Yet he had always known that to come before death, not after. As the disjointed images and sounds passed him by he started to feel very heavy, his body aching and feeling very tired. The images had a surreal quality to them, becoming distorted and faded like aged sepia-toned film on its last legs before burning and breaking.

Feeling very hot, Kaiden felt the void filling up with flames all around him, coming from seemingly nowhere. The familiar terror gripped his heart. Lily’s screams seemed to resonate in the void around him, calling for him, begging for him. The claws of demons pawing at him, scratching him with their claws. They appeared as black shadows swirling around him, screaming as if they were right in his ear. Screams that blended into a sheer tone, solid and boring straight into the inner recesses of his head. The flames licked at his fur, the pain of the heat, the crisping of his skin. He cried out, but his mouth made no sound. Closing his eyes, he emphatically prayed for it to end.

Suddenly, Kaiden’s eyes opened. The silence resumed save for a faint repetitive beeping. His blurry vision told him he was in a room, and that he was lying in a bed. Slowly it resolved, more things coming into focus. It was a hospital room, and a number of machines were dotted around the head of the bed. Feeling a presence to his right, he turned his head to see it. White, with two blue eyes, blue as river stones. For a moment, Kaiden thought it was her, his dear Lily. He tried to speak, but all he could manage was a groan due to the tube that was lodged deep in his throat. The image resolved, it wasn’t even a rabbit but a white tigress nurse checking on him.

“I know you still feel woozy, but we have to take the tube out of your throat.”

Kaiden reacted to the word ‘we’ with unease. She turned away and an otter doctor climbed up on a stool that was close to the bed.

“Mr. Ellison, my name is Doctor Boyd. You’re at Bunnyburrow County Hospital. You were severely injured during a fire.”

Kaiden grunted.

“Mr. Ellison, please don’t try to speak until we get the tube out of your throat,” Dr. Boyd urged.

The otter nodded to the nurse, who released the saline that kept the tube in place.

“On the count of three, I want you to blow out as hard as you can.”

She counted, and on three Kaiden blew as the nurse extracted the tube, coughing and sputtering. He took a deep breath of the cool dry air of the hospital, his throat stinging with agitation. The top of the bed was inclined so he could sit up slightly.

His deep and slow breathing had an airy, almost haunting quality to it, but he was able to breath on his own. Kaiden noticed that he couldn’t see the left side of the room. Holding his paw up to his left eye, all he could see what blackness. He turned back to the doctor confused.

“Mr. Ellison, you need to understand that when you were brought in, you were barely alive. And honestly, I don’t quite understand how you are either. You have a very powerful will to live sir.”

“But, you also need to understand what you suffered was the definition of catastrophic injury, so while we did keep you from perishing you are still very much critically injured,” Boyd said, trying to inform with as best a bedside manner as possible.

“How long?” Kaiden whispered.

“You’ve been in a coma for a month,” the doctor answered.

“My injuries?”

“Massive blood loss due to internal injuries. Your limbs were shredded, and I don’t know if reconstructive surgery is even an option given the level of damage and your weakened state. The gunshot actually went between the hemispheres of your brain. Miraculous really. Also, a hematoma and brain swelling is why you are blind in your left eye,” Boyd calmly explained.

Kaiden looked down to see that his arms were bandaged up from his paws to his shoulders. Faint and dry spots of leaking fluid had stained the gauze, and given that it was still doing this after a month of being comatose was not a good sign. His body was trying to fight and heal before the scar tissue would die and decay. Kaiden tilted the sheet up and looked down at his legs. Heavily bandaged as well, with fluid stains on the gauze. He knew what this meant: infection, sepsis, and a very painful death.

“How long doc?” Kaiden asked.

The otter doctor took a deep breath, not wanting to deliver the bad news.

“Doc?” Kaiden asked again.

“Days…a week, maybe two as most,” Dr. Boyd answered as if delivering a death sentence.

Kaiden breathed heavy on hearing the news.

“I’m sorry Mr. Ellison. I’ve contacted Zootopia General, and perhaps they may have specialists that can help you,” Dr. Boyd consoled.

Kaiden sat back on the bed looking up at the ceiling.

“If you need anything…If the pain…”

“I know the drill doc. I’ll holler if I need something,” Kaiden interrupted.

The nurse fitted Kaiden with a nasal cannula and adjusted a few of the machines that he was hooked up to. Both saddened, the doctor and nurse left, realizing that sometimes the best thing to do is leave the patient to come to grips with things on their own.

Kaiden sat in silence for a long time. He didn’t know how long he sat there, the IV drip making him fall asleep several times only to jerk awake as discomforting dreams would find him. He inclined the bed enough to look across the room to the nearby mirror mounted on the wall. For the first time he saw the reality of his situation. Like his arms and legs, his head was wrapped up with thick bandages. A small tube filled with red fluid, presumably blood, was coming out of his head and into a nearby bag to drain the hematoma and keep his brain from swelling.

“So this is how it ends,” he quietly muttered.

Kaiden took a moment to really consider those words, the finality of them.

“Really? I’ve never known you to be one for giving up,” said a voice.

Kaiden craned his head towards the voice. It was a raccoon dressed in a sharp suit looking at Kaiden concerned.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Christopher Talmadge, and little do you know, I have been following you practically your entire life.”

“What?!”

“I know… I mean, I knew… your parents,” the raccoon answered.

Talmadge stepped out of the doorway and entered, closing the door behind him on his way in. He walked over to the bed and climbed up on the stool that the doctor used. He gave Kaiden a once over.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized.

“What for?”

“For not coming for you sooner.”

“Who are you?” Kaiden asked again.

“I told you, my name is–”

“No, I mean who are you?” Kaiden asked, indicating he was meaning something else.

Talmadge looked down almost in shame, taking a sharp inhale as if in grief.

“You remember ‘The Pit’ don’t you?” Talmadge asked as he cast his gaze back at Kaiden.

Kaiden huffed in amazement.

“Remember? I’ve been doing everything in my power to forget that place,” he replied.

“Remember the final test, and the administrators that were behind the mirror?” Talmadge asked.

Kaiden didn’t answer, just waiting for the raccoon’s answer.

“I was one of the administrators of that program.”

“So you’re MIA. Come to finish the job?” Kaiden concluded.

Talmadge gave an almost defeated laugh.

“I guess I deserve that. I was MIA. In fact I was a lot of things, and it took a very wise mammal to show me how wrong I was.”

“So what are you here for?” Kaiden asked, almost annoyed.

“To start a long journey towards making things right,” Talmadge answered.

“You think your apology means anything to me. You think anything means anything to me?” Kaiden asked insultingly.

“I know about your current condition Kaiden. I know you’re dying, and I’m here to make you an offer.”

“Not interested,” Kaiden said coldly, sitting back.

Talmadge looked behind him to see if anyone was there. After doing so, he leaned towards the fox’s ear, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Listen god damn it, this is bigger than you know. You think what happened to you was because Jarod was taking out revenge? This is so much larger than you. A group is doing this, a group that’s been around a long time. Been part of every government, every law enforcement and intelligence organization. And they seem to have been around since the dawn of Zootopia. That has got to mean something to you.”

Kaiden glared at Talmadge, gritting his teeth.

“Not my problem anymore. None of this is my problem, and I never wanted any of this. They took everything from me already.”

Kaiden’s anger gave way to tears. “Please, just let me die in peace.”

Talmadge paused for a few moments. There was so much that needed saying, and the fox was seemingly in no mood to hear any of it.

“They took from you more than you know,” Talmadge said cryptically.

“You don’t want me to frame this in terms of the world and everyone else, fine. Then let me tell you the personal cost of what it was they took from you.”

Kaiden looked at Talmadge with his good eye.

“Your parents. They weren’t who they appeared to be. Robert and Kathleen were MIA agents.”

“That’s a fucking lie,” Kaiden vehemently denied the accusation.

“It’s the truth. Your parents were ex-MIA agents. They were my best friends, and when they wanted out, I did everything I could to get them out.”

“Why? Why’d they quit then?”

“You of course. When Kathleen found out she was pregnant with you, she wanted out then and there, but Robert and I convinced her that if she and her husband were to leave so suddenly, it would look too suspicious. It took me ten fucking years to get them out of deep cover work and into lesser classified work,” Talmadge explained.

“Import/Export?” Kaiden asked.

“Yes, by putting them there it gave enough time for the MIA to not consider them critical assets anymore, and it gave me the opportunity to have them quit without the MIA concerned about what they knew. And of course, as soon they got out, they packed up everything and got the hell out of Zootopia.”

“To the burrows,” Kaiden whispered.

“Yes, as far away from the big city and the MIA as possible. To get out of the way of history and out of ‘that’ world,” Talmadge answered.

Kaiden huffed in disbelief. He had become accustomed to lies so much that while this new revelation surprised him, it made sense in a strange sort of way. There were many times he would ask his parents about what life was like before him and in the big city, but they generally steered the conversation away from the topic, phrasing that life there was frantic and stressful and that life in the burrows was ‘better’ and ‘safer’. They had been trying to protect him from that world since he was born, trying to give their son a better life than what they endured.

Even knowing that they lied to him about their past, they did so because they loved their son, which make Kaiden love them that much more. Despite their efforts however, destiny had its own plans, and he felt sad that his parents’ sacrifice seemed to be in vain.

“Thank you for telling me about my parents. It answers a lot of questions. Now please, just leave me alone,” Kaiden replied, turning away from Talmadge and lying on his side.

Talmadge didn’t try to continue. After a brief moment of tense silence, he stood up and pulled out a card, leaving it on the nearby rolling table that patients use to eat off of. The business card was white card stock with a phone number printed on it, as well as a black lion’s head logo that simply had the number 13 written below it.

“If you change your mind, call this number.”

“I assure you, I won’t,” Kaiden muttered.

“Just in case,” Talmadge replied before stepping down from the stool to leave.

Kaiden waited for the raccoon to exit the room, hearing the click of the door latch. Now knowing the truth about his parents, he could finally grieve. The silence of the room filled with the soft whimpering and sobbing of the damaged fox.

Several Days Later…

Dr. Boyd appeared intermittently to supervise the nurses replacing Kaiden’s bandages with fresh ones. Even though the surgery when they brought him in had removed the thousands of pieces of shrapnel and foreign objects, the sheer physical damage was enough for anything to occur, from opportunistic infection to scar tissue. The prognosis was clearly not good by the worried faces on the staff. It was simply management at this point, and there was really nothing that could be done to save the dying fox.

After dealing with the interesting humility of being given a sponge bath, the room was quiet again. Kaiden started to notice a routine of periodic activity; it would be quiet, then busy, then quiet again. Much like his life, he wondered if perhaps that’s what life was in general: a series of moments, some quiet, others frenetic. He had his time to ponder on these kinds of thoughts at least until the final hours when all there would be was pain. But that time was seemingly distant, and for now, the peace and quiet of a solitary hospital room became his existence, and listening to the sound of his own breathing became the rhythm of life for him.

There was a tap at the door, interrupting the quiet of the room.

“Mr. Ellison?” The voice was Dr. Boyd, muffled from the other side of the door.

“Come in doc,” Kaiden beckoned.

The otter opened the door and climbed up on the stool, sitting down on it.

“More bad news doc?” Kaiden asked.

“No, no. This I confess is more of a personal visit,” he admitted.

Kaiden’s eyebrow perked up.

“I knew your wife, Mr. Ellison.”

“She did say she knew people at the hospital, colleagues,” Kaiden remarked.

“Yes, we were colleagues. We worked on several research projects together. We were also friends, and we talked about each other’s lives and the mammals in it,” Dr. Boyd said.

“Thank you for being her friend, doc, I know she needed friends all the time I was away,” Kaiden thanked.

“Call me Joseph,” the otter replied with a smile.

“Well, Joseph, what can I do for you?” Kaiden asked, cutting to the point.

“I was not sure how I would tell you this, or if I even should. I reasoned you had enough grief to deal with, and the fact that in the end it doesn’t matter anymore. But I figure if I was in your position, I would want to know.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Did Lily manage to tell you why she saw me that morning? Why she was ‘sick’?” Dr. Boyd inquired.

“No, she didn’t even tell me that she saw you.”

“Lily came to me with symptoms of nausea and what seemed to be a stomach virus, or so I thought, and I told her it would clear up in a couple days and that there was no problem. But the symptoms persisted, so I ran some blood work, and it was the morning of the fire that I found out what was making her ‘sick’.”

“Aw crap, don’t tell me she had cancer or something,” Kaiden shook his head.

Dr. Boyd snickered.

“No actually, something much more wonderful. Well at least, it was.”

The otter wrested his paws and smacked his lips trying to work up the nerve to say it. Finally, after a moment of silence, he took a deep breath and looked the fox square in the eye.

“Lily was pregnant,” he said softly.

Kaiden flashed back to that moment on the couch, to what Lily was wanting to tell him. ‘That must have been it,’ he thought.

“How is that possible?” Kaiden whispered.

“I don’t know,” Dr. Boyd replied.

“It shouldn’t be, but her blood showed levels of mCG and other pregnancy hormones, so there was no mistake,” Dr. Boyd continued. “She was pregnant, and I know that Lily loved you very much. She had always said that if she could she would find a way.”

“I don’t know what she did, or how, but she was brilliant, and if anyone could have figured it out, it was her. She loved you that much.”

Kaiden took the news like a kick to the chest, feeling the wind knocked out of him. He teared up, wincing with physical and emotional pain. He started to sob softly, staring up at the ceiling and willing the suffering to go away. Even Dr. Boyd was caught up in the heat of the moment and teared up a bit.

“What happened to you and her was unfair. I don’t pretend to know what business it is that you do. But what happened was an injustice, and I wish more than anything I could do something, anything to help you. Because I can’t stand the thought of the mammals who attacked you getting away with it. I’m deeply sorry. I know I’m supposed to remain professionally detached, but she was my dear friend,” the otter said, choking up on a few words. He cupped a paw over his mouth and started to shed a few tears.

Kaiden looked out the nearby window with misty eyes. He saw the moon staring down at him through the glass. He would often think back to those nights he sat in his cot during training, wondering if Lily was looking up at the moon as the same moment. It seemed Kaiden was faced with a choice, yet again brought before the crossroads to consider the options and possibilities. Death, or a fate worse than death. Lily was gone, the last light in his heart taken from him. The mammals who did this might as well have pierced his heart and forced the love to flow from the wound. All there was now was sadness, and sheer pain. They couldn’t be allowed to get away with this. They couldn’t be allowed to drive this pain onto others, and to create whatever horrors they have planned. This wasn’t about altruism, about doing the right thing. No, this was about Lily, and not seeing this repeat itself the world over. To watch from the eternal rest as others lament over their lost loves and lost families, knowing that he could have done something, that he should have done something, anything to prevent it, filled him with a renewed sense of determination.

In his heart of hearts, if Lily could speak to him now, he knew what she would say. “Do what you need to, to survive.”

“I love you Lily…I love you so much,” he thought to the moon, that in some time, some place, she would hear it.

Kaiden turned back to Dr. Boyd.

“Hey doc, you can do something for me.”

“What is it, what can I do?” the otter asked.

Kaiden motioned towards the nearby table, with the small business card on it.

“Call the number…Tell them, I changed my mind.”

Sometime later…

The offer that Talmadge had made was something of a mystery, and for good reason too. Had he said anything more during the time of his visit Kaiden likely would have scoffed or rejected it outright as abominable. But after listening to his heart and the reality of his situation, his mindset changed. It didn’t matter what it was, nor what was being asked of him. As long as he could bring Lily’s killers to justice, they could carve out a piece of his soul if necessary. And perhaps in many ways, that’s exactly what they did.

Cybernetic Augmentation, the wave of the future and the first step to self-controlled biological evolution, or so the futurists say. Going by how they would phrase it, one would think it almost a blessing, and maybe on some level it would be. The ability to surpass normal biological limitation, to correct a defect granted by genetics, or even bypass death all together. However, one would be foolish to not take into account the societal changes such technology would bring. But philosophy class was not what was on Kaiden’s mind. Even saving his own life was not important to him anymore. As far as he was concerned, his life was lost the moment Lily died, but there was some part of her calling out to him, something from the hereafter. He understood and accepted the level of augmentation that would be required. Even for this organization that Talmadge worked for, other agents had an arm or a leg replaced. Even two appendages was within the realm of possibility. But Kaiden’s case was one that, if successful, would be one for the record books.

Kaiden didn’t remember much after they transported him to the underground bunker, a place called ‘Bureau 13’. He couldn’t help but think that it was a fittingly cryptic name for a cryptic group. It was created many years ago by a small corps of agents from various groups, mainly the MIA. The signing of a federal executive order, officially called ‘Executive Order 60659’, also known as the ‘Bureau 13 Creation Order’ or the ‘Double Blind Contingency’, was what officially started the clandestine organization. The idea in short was that an agency operated separately from the government that employs it. The agency’s existence is even kept secret, and only known by a select few. This obfuscation would prevent such a group from being infiltrated, and moreover, make it capable of acting against any kind of infiltration into the government and other organizations in Zootopia. While given a high degree of latitude, their responsibilities are explicit: to find threats to Zootopia and its interests, and prevent such threats from carrying out their plans. However, Bureau 13’s ability to depend on other segments of Zootopian government is limited, hence the use of more stealthy solutions where possible.

Kaiden underwent several surgeries to stop his body from killing itself. The first and rather obvious one was the removal of his now dying limbs, which at this point were decaying and thus toxifying the remaining living tissue. A quadruple amputation, the removal of both arms at the shoulders and both legs at the hips, leaving the remaining torso and head. In any other circumstance, one would wonder what quality of life a mammal would have, but these were extraordinary circumstances. The joints were capped off, and metal attachment points were anchored to the joint bone, additional reinforcement added both above and below the tissue. The limbs themselves were made of made of metal, polymers and carbon fiber laminate over the metal structure. The augmentations were not limited to the external either. His internal organs were heavily modified as well. His lungs were revamped with an implanted rebreather to filter out toxins and even be exposed to zero oxygen environments for a short time. Angiogenic protein stimulation for accelerated healing, electrochemical conversion to allow food energy to be able to power the mechanisms, retinal prosthesis for enhanced and augmented vision modes, and much more. There wasn’t a part of his body that hadn’t been augmented in some way. Even his brain was augmented with a brain-machine interface chip that joined the organic to the synthetic, bonding electrodes to his central nervous system to allow the augments to not be simple prosthetics, but an extension of his very being.

It was quite literally brain surgery, which unearthed his memories and dreams. While the surgeons worked to fix his body, his mind drifted to her, the way she felt, the way she laughed, her scent, her taste, all the memories of days and nights gone by. The passion, the fire, sadness that dwelled within him that she alone could cure. The rage and frustration burning, he could feel his teeth grit and his fists clench. Desiring to kill Jarod for what he had done, for whom he had taken.

Kaiden opened his eyes, the grogginess of the whole ordeal still making his eyes feel heavy. He was in a lone hospital bed, the room dim with no light save for the fluorescent lamp softly buzzing above the bed, casting its diffuse light and barely illuminating the entirety of the room. There was an eerie quiet about the place. The twenty-four hour clock showed that it was past midnight. It would make sense to have such clocks due to the absence of windows, at least none that Kaiden could see. There would have to be some way to tell day from night. The feeling he got from the place was that it was underground. He wasn’t quite sure how, but he could almost feel the mountain of dirt above and around him just outside the concrete walls.

He looked around. He was hooked up to an IV and heart monitor, but gone were the plethora of machines from his old room. There was a slight pain everywhere, and his whole body ached. Feeling stiff and stretched like taffy in a pulling machine, even breathing caused a slight twinge.

“I assure you it will get better,” said a familiar voice from the nearby doorway.

Kaiden craned his head and looked at the figure, recognizing him immediately from his silhouette.

“You of all people would be the last I would expect here,” Kaiden replied.

“I suffered from my own hubris, and what happened to me was not to be expected,” said the voice.

The figure stepped out of the doorway and came over to Kaiden’s bed. It was a large grizzly bear. He had been injured some time ago, bearing his own set of scars and disfigurements, the most obvious of which was the fact that his arms had been replaced with cybernetic augments. Scarring was visible on his face, neck and chest, at least going by what little that peeked from above the collar of the shirt he was wearing.

“So…what are you doing here Kerberos?” Kaiden asked.

“I came to see you. When I heard that you had been injured and that you had decided to join up, I just had to see you,” Kerberos answered.

“I’m touched,” Kaiden replied sarcastically.

“I deserve that. Actually I deserve a lot more than that. After what I put your children through, I don’t deserve a second chance,” the bear said plainly.

Kaiden’s eyebrow perked up. He had known Humphrey Kerberos as many things. A hard ass, a cruel taskmaster, and even a downright aggressive son of a bitch, but never once had he seen the expression that was on the bear’s face right now: regret. Regret with a side helping of humility. Kaiden was a bit more receptive, that and the fact that he was in a hospital bed.

“I guess one of the reasons I wanted to see you was, I wanted to say… I’m sorry,” Kerberos apologized.

Kaiden was shocked. He apologized, he actually apologized for something. Admitting wrongdoing was also not something Kaiden had known the bear to ever do, not in all the years during his time in ‘the Pit’.

“Why?” Kaiden asked.

“Because of what I did,” Kerberos replied matter of factly.

“No, not that, I mean why do you even feel bad about it now?” Kaiden clarified.

“Because sometimes blind faith can make you rationalize things that you shouldn’t, and I was a patriot Kaiden, zealous even. I did what I did because I believed in what they were selling, that what I was doing was in the service of Zootopia. That even as sins go, it would make all the difference later. I believed, even when they asked me to do even worse things for them later.”

“Worse than child abuse? Worse than turning children into weapons, weapons that would then be pointed at innocent people to make room for what, some kind of new world order?” Kaiden scoffed.

“In short, yes. Because while what I did to you in many ways made you stronger, at least it produced something for that effort. Every single one of you became stronger as a result. I’m not saying that excuses me, but it created something, and that at least is something productive. All the years after were spent destroying something,” Kerberos explained.

“And that is?”

“The world, the structure of it. The small little places of peace and tranquility, because we were told that our way was the best and the only way. I believed in the lie just like you. I knew on some level it was wrong, but I ignored it same as you.”

“So what changed?”

“Same as you. I awoke. Opened my eyes one day and realized the truth of what I was doing. I lost the zeal, the commitment, and eventually the focus, which caught up with me rather quickly,” Kerberos replied, holding up his cybernetic paws as proof.

“So what made you join this outfit?”

“We all have the same motivations here. We joined up to do many things, but ultimately, because we wanted to serve and protect, to make the world a better place. And we realize now that we broke it. WE broke it, not any one of us, but a group effort of many people, across multiple disciplines, all running blindly towards it. Why are we here you ask? Because we all realize our part in this, even you. And just like you, we want to work at helping to fix it,” Kerberos said.

Kaiden weakly reached up with his paw to grab the side rail to his bed and was stunned, seeing the prosthesis for the first time. Flexing the fingers and rotating his wrist, it felt like his paw. It moved like it, but it was made of metal and polymer. His pawpads had a rough feel to them to replicate his old ones. Touching the metal rail felt cold, it actually felt cold. The fact that he could feel anything at all was a shock, but whatever process that was allowing him to feel was able to do so pretty accurately compared to before.

Kerberos saw the expression on the fox’s face.

“That was the other reason I wanted to be here.”

“What, to see me marvel?”

“No, to help you through this.”

“Through what?”

“Using them, training with them. Simply walking is going to be harder than you think,” The bear informed.

“You offering to train me again? Is that it?” Kaiden asked.

“Kaiden, despite what you think about me, training the next generation is what I do. Imparting my knowledge and experience to allow others to achieve. I can’t make up for the past, and I can apologize a thousand times, and it won’t change what I did or what happened. But if you let me, we can change how it goes from here.”

“It’s not like I have a choice anyway,” Kaiden muttered.

“No, I guess you don’t. But I would rather you be a willing participant this time, especially since willpower will be a major factor here.”

Kaiden heaved a sigh, noticing the clear irony and seemingly cyclical nature of the universe. How the crossroads of our lives seem to come right back at us again and again, each time a new chance at the road. Does one go right or left, forward or back, and how attitudes and beliefs can make all the difference in the world. At the very least he would work with the old bear to learn his new capabilities. It’s not like they left him with an owner’s manual.

Three months later…

Training with Humphrey Kerberos wasn’t exactly what Kaiden expected, not just because part of it felt more like physical therapy than military training. Learning to walk again, to grasp things gently without crushing them, etc. The power of the augmentations was nothing that could be denied, but finer control, things like picking up a fork and using it to eat, or drinking from a glass without shattering it in a paw, that was something else.

But despite all of that, there was something different about Kaiden’s training regimen than the content: patience. Kerberos was patient with Kaiden, and in fact all of the recruited agents that were in various states of augmentation were patient with him. Where in the past Kerberos was cold and hard, even cruel, none of that existed here. He was kind, patient, even compassionate. Kaiden wondered exactly what caused such a complete inversion of his personality. He concluded something bad must have happened, something that shook the bear to his core.

During their training, Kaiden had slowly but surely tried to get him to talk about it, but the bear would always change the subject and even sometimes tell Kaiden to drop it. Kerberos knew what the fox was digging for, and Kaiden considered the bear would give him an answer eventually.

The pair had been paged to Director Talmadge’s office. Walking through the halls past the command center, they arrived at the raccoon’s office, standing ‘at ease’ in front of the mahogany desk. The raccoon had flipped through the last few pages of a file.

“These are your copies,” the raccoon gestured toward the more appropriately sized copies of the file on his desk.

The pair picked them up and began to review them. A picture of a red-furred squirrel caught their attention.

“Do you know a mammal named Milton Hamilton?” Talmadge asked Kaiden.

“Isn’t he some big time tech mogul?” the fox replied.

“Was,” Talmadge replied.

“Was?”

“Lucas Technologies purchased Hamilton Industries, a hostile takeover. Milton Hamilton Sr. had died a year earlier and left the company to his son. Milton Hamilton Jr. had been working an incredibly brilliant bit of programming. Basically, it’s a publicly available encryption scheme that, and here’s the kicker, doesn’t have any kind of government back door into it. Apparently Junior doesn’t trust the system any more than we do.”

“Ok, so what does that have to do with us? Didn’t that happen like, I don’t know, two, three years ago?” Kaiden asked.

“Four,” Talmadge corrected.

“Ok, four. Point is the company was bought, and Junior here, didn’t he just go off into obscurity? Probably enjoying his fat bank account,” Kaiden said.

“Actually, the director and I believe that Milton Hamilton was abducted, and the story of his ‘riding off into the sunset’ planted for the sake of explaining his disappearance,” Kerberos clarified.

Kaiden nodded and looked back at the file.

“What the hell does Lucas Technologies want with a twenty-one year old kid?” Kaiden asked.

“Not Lucas Technologies, but rather the mammals behind the corporation,” Talmadge put rather delicately.

“Kaiden, perhaps there is something that needs a bit of explaining. We’ve discovered that there is a group of mammals, across many areas and disciplines of influence, who are working together for some kind of goal that as of yet we haven’t figured out,” Kerberos explained.

“Have you ever heard of a group called the ‘Council of Five’? Or perhaps by their more colloquial name, the Illuminati?” Talmadge asked.

Kaiden’s head snapped to match his gaze with the raccoon, displaying a stern expression.

“I take it from your reaction, you have,” Talmadge replied, answering his own question.

“You could say that. Just before Jarod, that bastard, shot me in the head, he said that’s who he worked for. In fact, he said that’s who we’ve always been working for, that they ran the MIA. Hell, by his reckoning they run all of Zootopia.”

There was a thick pause in the room. Kaiden waited for at least one of them to set him straight. He shot a glance back and forth between Kerberos and Talmadge, neither taking the opportunity.

“Well, he’s not far off,” Talmadge said, breaking the silence.

Kaiden’s brow perked in surprise.

“We have known for some time now that there is a group of powerful mammals who have been trying to manipulate society from behind the scenes. We aren’t sure when they established themselves. In fact, there is a very concerning notion they may have actually been in their position since Zootopia’s founding. In either case, they have been attempting to elicit more and more control over everyday forces that run not just the city, but the entire planet. And we have come to the conclusion that such a position is not in our best interests,” Talmadge explained.

“So, they’re literally the invisible paw, the power behind the throne, the um…masters of the world or something to that effect?” Kaiden asked flippantly.

“Correct.”

“Ok…Well let’s let that nightmare sink in for a second. What are we supposed to do about it?”

“They’re not invincible, Mr. Ellison. They are just mammals made of flesh and blood. Powerful yes, and with a wide range of resources, but that hasn’t stopped us before, nor has it even stopped you when you worked for the MIA. It requires the smart use of tactics and resources, but there is an answer to find. The question is can we be smart, strong and fast enough to find and use it?” Talmadge said confidently.

“And luck, luck helps too,” Kerberos added.

“Well I think we’ll need plenty of that,” the raccoon nodded.

“Well I knew the other paw was going to drop at some point, just didn’t realize how big of a drop it would be,” Kaiden remarked.

“This isn’t just about you Kaiden. It’s about Zootopia. It’s about all of us. We rise or fall together. You need to understand that nothing is more important than the security and safety of Zootopia and its citizens. Not you, not me, not any of us. I think deep down you believe that too,” Kerberos said.

Talmadge pulled a patch out of his desk and slid it across to Kaiden. The patch would become the symbol that would define his life from this moment on.

The patch had a stylized white-furred lion head on it with a mane of black, the number ‘13’ embroidered below it, and words written in a circular alignment along the edge.

“Cum Animus Et Ferocia Nos Tueri Zootopia”

“With Courage and Ferocity We Protect Zootopia”

Kaiden took the patch from the desk and studied it for a moment. Feeling the sensation of the patch in his newly minted mechanical arm, it seemed purpose found him again right when he needed it.

“OK…Let’s get started.”

#zootopia #fanfiction #fanfic #zootopia:shadows in the dark #zootopia: kaiden's story

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youareiron-andyouarestrong · 8 years

Text

we only have one shot to live another day (we gotta go, we gotta get the job done, we gotta start a new nation)

the Rogue One crew lives to see the second Death Star. this is not what they all got blown up for.

And as our fallen foes retreat, I hear the drinking song they’re singing

The world turned upside down…

They are on Yavin IV when the news hits.

“A second Death Star?” echoes Bodhi numbly as Cassian closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall, Chirrut bows his head and Baze growls low in his throat. “How did they even get the plans for a second one?”

“Most of it is derived from what remains of Galen Erso’s work,” says Mon Mothma quietly, her voice pure politician, but Cassian can sense the strain underneath. “It is not yet complete and they seem to be following the same basic structure of the original.”

The original, Cassian thinks, sick rising in him, rage and terror and frustration all twisted together like wires. That he should even live to see it, what was the point of it all–

“What does Princess Leia say?” he asks curtly and Mon Mothma’s eyes flick to him.

“Princess Leia is…indisposed,” she says finally, which is apparently code for haring off to find her smuggler encased in carbonite, and muffled groans run throughout the room. “We are not yet sure of her return. In the meantime, we must prepare ourselves for the inevitable conflict. Captain Andor, you and your crew will receive your orders soon.”

Dismissed, Cassian nods curtly and the rest of them depart. “We are so kriffed,” says Bodhi despondently, shutting his eyes. “I mean, come on. Did we go through all that–just for them to build another one?”

Baze grunts. “Then they’ll make the same mistakes and we’ll beat them the same way.”

“As the Force wills,” agrees Chirrut firmly, but even his impenetrable calm seems rattled.

Cassian is still thinking about the reports he is going to have to send, the messages he must encode, the reports his network will send him–

He almost walks into Kay-Tu, who looms as he ever does in front of them. “We have heard the news,” he informs Cassian precisely. “There was only a thirty-eight percent chance of them attempting to rebuild it.”

“You didn’t feel the need to mention it?” asks Cassian somewhat sourly, even though he knows how useless it is to blame Kay-Tu. The droid almost seems to cock its head.

“It was purely a hypothetical,” he says and then after a pause, asks, “Have you informed Jyn yet?”

Jyn. Oh, stars in their courses–

“There is a ninety-five percent likelihood she will respond to the news with extreme violence,” says Kay-Tu and Cassian has to shut his eyes at the prospect. The other five percent chance is that she will withdraw into herself, sinking into a well so deep he won’t be able to pull her out of it.

“Go,” says Bodhi urgently. He, Chirrut, Baze and Cassian all know what this news will do to Jyn. “Go find her.”

He takes off through the base. If he’s lucky she’ll be there wrecking their shared living quarters, and not trying to get herself killed off-planet.

He’s lucky.

She’s in the middle of what remains of their room, bed overturned, table sent sprawling, covers and pillows scattered across the floor, what little personal effects she had smashed to pieces–not his, though. She hadn’t gotten to his yet.

Her chest is heaving, her eyes blazing, her face deadly pale and all he can think of is watching her on Jedha, going through ranks of stormtroopers like they were made of wet rags. She turns when he enters the room, slowly and carefully, deliberately making noise. Her hands clench and unclench, her teeth grind together. He hasn’t heard her do that in ages.

“You know?” she asks flatly and he doesn’t hesitate.

“We just got the news,” he says and doesn’t ask how she heard. She still has contacts he does not.

Her teeth are coming together audibly now, a low sound of fury rising in her throat. “How?” she grates. “How did they know? What was left? What did we miss?”

“They must’ve found something of your father’s work,” Cassian starts and Jyn laughs, the sound harsh and furious.

“Then it was all for nothing,” she spits out. “All of it, everything we did. All the lives lost, the bloodshed, Saw, Jedha, my father–” she is visibly shaking with pent up rage and Cassian thinks he stretched a hand towards her she’d burn him up like the light from a dying star.

“It wasn’t for nothing,” he says quietly. “It was never for nothing, Jyn, you know this. You know.”

She shakes her head fiercely, as if pushing away the words, and then stomps on something breakable in the wreckage. Cassian can hear it crack. “It wasn’t supposed to happen!” she shouts, broken and furious. “We won, we stopped it, my father’s work, Saw, Bodhi, Chirrut and Baze, us, we stopped it, it never should have happened, how dare they, how dare they–”

She kicks at a fallen over table and chair, hard enough to make the wood crack, and Cassian goes over immediately, wraps his arms around her, pulls her into his chest. She lets out a muffled shriek of fury against his shirt and pounds her fists against his heart, not really trying to hurt him, just trying to get her fury out. He endures it and holds her closer, tighter.

Jyn’s blows slowly lose their momentum; she sags against him like a puppet whose strings have been cut. She shakes against him like a tree in a gale; his shirt is wet and warm from where her face is pressed against it.

If there was a bed, he’d sit them down on it; but there’s not, so he lowers them to the floor, deliberately placing himself on top of her, weighing her down with his presence, keeping her grounded.

This used to happen a lot, especially after Scarif. She’d get furious over seemingly insignificant things or freeze in place, unable to move, and Cassian would be the one to talk her down, walk her out of it. Sometimes she’d blow up, furious at something and unable sit or stand still, start hyperventilating, unable to focus or pull herself back together. Cassian had seen it happen before and learned quickly that physical touches and reassurances kept Jyn connected to herself. Bodhi talks to her, Chirrut prays softly over her as he holds her hand, Baze will wrap her up in a huge bearhug, until her energy runs out. But Cassian is the one who talks her back to reason.

It’s been ages since she’s done this, but it never stops hurting Cassian to watch her. Now, his weight bearing down on her, she shakes against him, face pressed against his shirt. Jyn hardly ever cries–not in front of other people, at any rate. He is the only one who ever bears witness to her tears and he holds it in his heart like the trust it is.

After a while, after the tremors stop going through her frame, but her breathing is deep and harsh and ragged, heaving against him.

He bows his head over hers, pushes his faces into the crook of her neck, a place well-beloved and intimately known to him. “I’m sorry,” he tells it, not to her face, not with his own heart sick and frustration coiling in him. “I’m sorry, corazón.”

“Not. Your. Fault,” she gets out, the fight leaking out of her, as she comes down, back to herself. “Sorry I. Trashed the room.”

He shrugs against her, feeling weary, weary, weary, and they haven’t even begun yet. “It can be fixed.”

“I should be better,” she croaks, smaller tremors starting through her again. “I shouldn’t–I shouldn’t do this, we don’t have time for it, I should be out there working with you, I’m sorry–”

Something in Cassian’s heart breaks, a small, sharp fissure. “Don’t you ever be sorry,” he hisses and she flinches under him. He pulls back, enough to see her face, streaked with tears, and he wants to burn something to ground for putting that look on her face.

“You’re angry,” he tells her, letting his arms rest on either side of her head, lifting some of his weight off of her. “You’ve a right to be angry. You can be as angry as you want Jyn, but the work must get done. Be angry, corazón, be as angry as you can be. That’s how we get the job done.”

A weak, wet sound escapes her, maybe a laugh. “Chirrut would say anger leads to darkness and suffering.”

“It can lead to fire too,” Cassian says, “fire and light.”

Jyn presses her face to his shoulder, takes in a deep breath, and then another, and then another. She is very still now and Cassian can feel her gathering courage and strength like a cloak around her. She pulls back, looks him in the eye, face wet, eyes bright, jaw set. He waits.

“Let me up,” she tells him softly, “let’s get the room back in order. And then get our orders.”

He carefully levers himself off her, wincing slightly. His left leg has never been the same since the fall in the Scarif archives and lying on it on that angle bothers him. She gets to her feet first, pulls him upright. “Will you actually follow the orders this time?” he says dryly, knowing full well she will only if it suits her.

“If it gets the job done,” she retorts, customary bravado a thin layer of paint over her anger and fear and grief.

They straighten out the room as best they can (Cassian will see about requisitioning a new table and chairs later). He straightens out Jyn’s clothes too, pushes her hair away from her face, does it up for her as best as he can (he’s never been the best of helping her with her hair, but she needs his touches now more than she needs to appear presentable) and she fixes his shirt where her grip left it rumpled. Her hands rest on his chest, one over his heart, a gesture that has become a touchstone between them.

They get their orders. Bodhi, Baze and Chirrut rally around them, silent support. Jyn stands with them, her shoulders back, spine straight, her expression a dare for anyone to comment on her eyes, still rimmed with red and her face streaked with the remains of tears. If Mon Mothma notices, she makes no sign of it.

They are to leave at dawn.

Back at their room, Jyn doesn’t immediately turn to pack or gather her gear, as she usually does. She doesn’t move to help Cassian to do so either. She tilts her head back to look up at him, slight and slim and burning bright as a flame. She rises on her toes and kisses him, an unexpectedly soft touch between them, not her usual hunger or fierce devouring of him. He returns it, trying to keep it soft, gentle, but Jyn, while having developed an appreciation for gentle touches, still doesn’t have much patience for it. It becomes fierce, insistent, a heated thing like the burn of a lightsaber.

She is reckless and hungry for him and the thought alone is enough to make him back her into the newly made bed and sink them both into it. She gets her legs around his waist and flips them over, the bed beneath them creaking in protest; it’s not meant for such energetics.

She is fierce and burning eyed, looking down at him with her gaze heat and touch. “We are going to win,” she tells him precisely, clearly, as if expecting an argument. “We are going to win.”

“Yes,” he agrees, because looking at her, unbowed and unbroken, he can believe it, he can pledge his soul to it. “Yes, we will.”

Their lovemaking is frantic, ferocious, desperate. Jyn holds him down with her thighs and rides him relentlessly, teeth bared like a declaration of war against the Death Star, against the Empire, against whatever darkness that threatens them. He braces his hands on her hips and lets her take what she needs and when she collapses on top of him, the two of them spent and gasping, he lets her slide off of him, pulls her into his side. She breathes, again and again, one hand curled over his heart.

“We’re going to win,” she says again softly, into his skin.

Cassian closes his eyes and remembers, only barely, a prayer his mother used to say when worried: may it be as you have said; those who came before us, watch over us in the Force.

He is not sure, really, how much he believes in the Force, but sometimes, just sometimes, Cassian’s heard stories of pilots or agents having premonitions before a mission or assignment–flickers of what might happen. The whispers of the Force, it’s called, and he hears it now, lying besides the woman he loves (he will tell her, he will tell her soon, because he will not let their farewells be his motivation for telling her; he has a soldier’s superstition against saying good-bye).

You shall live to see these days renewed, the whispers tell him. And no more despair.

#star wars #rogue one #rebelcaptain #otp: and make death proud to take us #my writing

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