#the only thing that can stop me now is wrist pain and my tablet running out of battery

[skeleboy13]

reigniting my love of drawing by realizing i have the power to just make an endless amount of these

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Can I please get a fic of the Bonten get caught cheating on the reader and their reacting to the reader leaving them?

You Should Go: Sanzu Haruchiyo/ Ran Haitani/ Rindou Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 1k

tw: angst? angst.

masterlist

song recommendation:

Sanzu Haruchiyo

"Loyal," you shout, throwing the expensive vase at Sanzu. He ducks, his pink hair flying and blue eyes full of fear, but you don't care about how he feels. You just want him to hurt like you're hurting. "You said you'd be loyal!" The vase shatters on the wall opposite his head, spraying chunks of porcelain everywhere.

"Babe, stop!" Sanzu pleads, tears welling up in his eyes. "It was a mistake. I'm sorry! A one-time thing; it'll never happen again."

"You're right," you exhale, dropping your shoulders as you stoop down to grab the bag in your hand. "It won't happen again." Sanzu seems to calm down, his shoulders also slumping as his hands drop to his sides.

"I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just don't leave me. Not right now."

"Fuck you, Sanzu," you hiss, snatching the keys off of the counter behind you. "I want a divorce."

"Wait!" You storm out of the mansion, bag in hand as you march across the gravel to your car. "Y/n, don't do this!"

You don't even bother with replying, instead choosing to swing the car door open and throw your things in before sliding in. Sanzu briefly chases after you in the car, slamming his hand on the trunk before you peel off, driving down the driveway and out of his life.

Ran Haitani

"My mother warned me about men like you," you gripe, snatching clothes off the hangers and tossing them into your oversized suitcase. "I can't stay here with your fucking lies."

Ran tries to stop your hands from their motions, gripping your wrists feverishly.

"Stop this madness," Ran hisses, but you snatch your hands back, returning to your removal of clothing.

"Shut the fuck up, cheater."

Ran flinches at this comment but steps back, his eyes watching in slow-motion as you grab things that you owned and not a single one of his gifts to take with you.

"No, no, no, no," Ran chants, jogging down the stairs as your bag thumps on the marble. "No." His last 'no' is punctuated by him standing in front of you, eyes full of something you'd never seen before. Fear.

"Move, Haitani." Your push against his frame isn't enough, and you realize that you're sorely outmatched when his hands grab your suitcase, prying it from your fingers without harming you at all. "Move!" You shove him again, tears coming to your eyes as you push, push, push... but he doesn't budge an inch.

"No, I can't let you go." You fight him with all you have, trying your best to disarm him so you can leave and gather your thoughts, but he's not letting you. "Just... just... just stop!"

You collapse in a heap of tears and sorrow and shame at his feet, pressing a hand to your face.

"Fuck, I shouldn't be crying like this," you moan, wiping your eyes.

Ran doesn't reply, covering you with his large frame and holding you in his warmth, stroking your back as you sob pitifully in his arms.

"I'm tired of your whores calling me and reminding me I'm the worthless wife," you hiccup, pushing him away. "It's me or them, Ran. I'm done with this shit."

"It's always going to be you," he whispers, cupping your face tenderly. "I'll always choose you."

But somehow, his words never seem quite real - like a fairy tale with a happy ending.

Rindou Haitani

You had to drug him to escape. That was the only way out.

Rindou lays in the bed, his evening tea mixed with dissolvable Benadryl tablets, which we masked by the taste of cinnamon and black pepper spices.

You don't even bother leaving a note.

You slide the rings he'd given you as a vow of his commitment onto the pillow beside him and slipped out into the night, crashing at a hotel with no phone, no credit card, no way of being traced.

Rindou knew your list of "non-negotiables" contained "cheating" and he'd crossed that boundary one too many times. If his brother hadn't been in on it every single time, you'd work it out with Rin somehow. But Ran obviously wanted you out of the picture.

So you'd do just that.

The first sign that Rindou knows you've left him is the sudden appearance of men who lurked in the shadows with him.

Sanzu.

Kokonoi.

Takeomi.

They all appeared in places that you'd think would be obscure enough to inhabit. But as you caught sight of Sanzu in the hotel mirror, ducking your head and pulling the fur hood up to mask your face, you knew it was time to leave.

If the Loyal Mad Dog was on your trail, you'd have a lot more problems than just an angry ex-husband.

The second sign came after you sent the divorce papers through your lawyer.

You'd been in your new home, the mountain air chilling your bones and your heart when a black van rolled into the complex, thousands of miles away from its original departure point.

You even recognized the license plate.

The house went up for sale that evening. The divorce papers were never signed.

The final sign Rindou was desperately searching for you came when you carried the trash out to the garbage bin, eyes glued firmly to the road and your freshly-dyed hair waving in the wind.

And his car pulled up, lights blinding you as the doors opened and a couple of hands dragged you inside, tossing you in the back. You bump your head on the side door, rendering you still and a little stunned as Rindou climbs in the front seat, driving in silence.

"You think you can just divorce me?" Purple eyes catch your gaze as you rub the back of your head, hissing in pain. "You just run away and then expect to not be found? Tch." You groan, laying in the seat and trying to think of an escape, which is virtually impossible now. "I thought you knew me better than that, y/n. You forgot who you married, I guess."

[hoaqins-funk-house]

Springtrap

Yandere

Male Reader

You can read part 1 here 

You can read part 2 here

Part 3; Finale

Spinning your keys around your finger, you go to slip them into the backdoor's lock, finding that turning it was difficult. 

Far too difficult.

"Did someone break in?" You mutter, pulling the key out and beginning the walk around to the other entrance. "Well, if they did I doubt they'd stay long, not with William there."

Entering through the front, you look around the dark establishment, trying to spot if anything had been stolen or otherwise interacted with violently. With a sigh of relief at the sight of everything being normal, you fully step in, making your way through the building and wondering with a disgusted expression how William was able to walk through this place barefoot.

Turning the corner that allowed you to look into the window of your office, you see your golden-green companion looking at the door with his head tilted, an unrecognizable expression on his face.

"Yeah, the lock's broken for whatever reason." You say, his gaze shifting before his face does.

"Mhm." He walks towards you, stopping a few meters away. "Say, have you thought about me very much?"

Caught off guard by the question, you tilt your head. "Huh?"

"My existence. How I came to be trapped in a suit." He elaborates.

"Not really, to be honest… why?"

He looks into the office window, eyeing that tablet. "The suit, being an original model, incorporated these little devices known as springlocks."

Your brows furrow. You only knew of Springbonnie and Fredbear from random things online, so the inner workings of them was completely unknown to you. 

"The reason why they're called suits; the springlocks pushed back all the little bits of animatronic things that filled them, thus allowing them to be worn by employees. I, as you can tell, was one of them." His gaze shifts back to you. "However, I wasn't when I was subjected to my slow death."

He takes one small step towards you. "It was in a room known as the saferoom- ironic, isn't it- which was invisible to both cameras and the animatronics that walked around."

His lips twitch up. "I hid in there, waiting for them to come near me. When they did, I broke them. They all came, and all of their shells were destroyed."

Shells? Destroying the animatronics?

You watch as he takes another step forward, this one larger. 

"But, the ones inside those shells weren't so easily deterred."

Ones inside…? 

"They chased me. Forced me into hiding in the suit. They wanted revenge; wanted me dead."

He takes a few larger steps, now within arms length. You, however, grow uneasy, stepping back. His eyes stay locked with yours, a soft grin on his lips. 

You truly do look like his prey.

"I don't blame them. After all, who wouldn't want their murderer dead?" 

Your eyes widen as your suspicions are proven correct. When he takes a step forward, you do the same in reverse. If you look away for one moment, he'll catch you. You've seen his speed.

His eyes glow in the dim light, lips curling into a nightmarishly wide grin.

"Oh, it seems you've figured out my big secret. Does it change your view of me? Would you still wake up on top of me so calmly?" He laughs. "Would you still let me rest my head on your hand? Would you still so easily approach me?"

You were wrong last night. Dead wrong.

He's terrifyingly monstrous, even as a human.

"Well, I suppose my last question has already been answered." With a small chuckle, he jolts forward, you ducking to the side right before he could reach you and dashing off. He glances your way during his brief pause, expression horrifyingly giddy.

 His steps are loud behind you, and you only manage to reach cam 6 before arms cage you in against the wall, you turning to face the grinning man as you push yourself up against the wall as if trying to force yourself through it.

He lifts his hand, placing it on your chin and using his thumb to brush over your cheek. "You're too adorable. You really are like… my prey."

God, the fear in your eyes…

His grin widens a bit more, and his hand slips to the front of your chin. You clench your eyes shut, hearing a gruff laugh before his chapped lips connect with your own. You tense, feeling his other hand grip your wrist, applying more and more pressure until you let out a pained noise, him taking the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Your eyes stay shut until he finally separates, where you reluctantly open them once more, finding a very satisfied-looking William and a small string of saliva temporarily connecting your tongues. "Don't worry. It's not the end of us after just that." He assures.

The hand previously on your chin shifts to your hip, where his fingers press somewhat harshly against the cloth, holding you in place further. Leaning in once more, he grins at the tiny whimper that escapes you. Redirecting himself, he instead aims for a much more sensitive area.

You let out a gasp as you feel his lips against your neck, quietly hissing as he harshly bites down, his sharp canines drawing blood. After he has his fill of that, he follows it up by sucking on the spots he had just bit, you feeling your heartrate pick up even more. 

The sound of your heavy, stuttering breaths in his ear certainly doesn’t discourage the man.

Still, he leans back, enjoying the sight of your reddened face as you reach up, covering your neck with your free hand. This, of course, wouldn’t be the end, but he needs to save the rest for later. 

He steps back.

His grip on your wrist, while looser than before, is still firm as he begins to walk you back to the hall in front of the office. "Now, I have a little game for us to play. We've done it before, so I won't explain the rules. If you make it to 6, I'll let you leave. But if you don't…" He pauses, glancing over his shoulder at your panicked face, which he responds to with a smile. "Well, I'm sure you can guess."

Standing in front of the entrance to the office, he waits for you to hesitantly enter. 

"As usual, I'll start in the back. Don't even try to escape, it's not gonna work. I broke the lock and that door isn't going to be breaking from anything but power tools."

You give a small nod, eyes shifting to the chair.

"Well, good luck. You'll most definitely need it." 

You don't react to his voice, walking towards the chair as he begins his walk back. 

You turn on your phone, checking the time and finding that fifteen minutes have already passed. 

You can't call for help, if anyone came in they'd be killed by him. If he lived through an endoskeleton being shoved into him, he'll live through pretty much anything.

Still, you text your brother quickly.

You put your phone down, not caring about the wave of notifications that came from him spamming trying to get you to respond.

Pulling the camera pad out, you switch to where he normally starts right as he walks in. He sends a chilling smile up at the camera, eyes eerily glowing within the shadows. 

"Let's begin!" He calls. 

Immediately, your eyes widen as he reaches up, ripping the camera right off of the wall.

You feel your breathing pick up again as your heart pounds out of your chest. 

You aren't going to make it. 

When he dashes into the next room, you lead him back. He snarls. Briefly, before cam 10 gets ripped off of the wall, you see him glance at the vent.

Thankfully, he ignores it, running into the next room before you hit him with the sound again, rebooting audio and cameras tight as they go out. 

"Fuck that guy for making this shit so 'authentic' it breaks down every two seconds!" You mumble to yourself. 

William tears cam 8 down, running out once more. When you manage to catch him, he's in cam 4, and you lead him back with more audio. 

"You won't keep this up, you know! You'll run out of cameras!" He laughs, the sound echoing in the building.

You frown as cam 5 goes out. You lead him back further, hearing the thumping of the vents and quickly switching your cameras to them, sealing off a vent thankfully just in time. His grin drops.

You check the time. 

It's 2. 

5 of 10 cameras have already been torn down, and you are unable to play audio from them.

He gets out of the vent surprisingly quickly, continuing his race to you. 

When he reaches another vent, you block it off before he reaches the end. He rips off a camera that you haven't even used yet upon getting out. As soon as he sees cam 3, he rips it off as well.

You see the first sparks.

You lead him back again, he charges again. 

The cameras start it.

You lead him back again, he charges again.

Soon enough the back half of the building is in flames, swallowing everything and coming for you faster than William could.

You have nowhere to lead him to but right outside your door, and he disappears. 

Completely. 

Not in any cameras, not in any vents, and not in your vision.

The smoke began to pile into your room, so you rip off a sleeve of an old jacket that was left and tie it around your nose and mouth, getting out of your chair to stay lower to the ground.

Frantically, you switch through everything again, continuing to look for him, but turning your head to the sound of a grate both thrown aside. 

He went through the break room.

There, you meet eyes with William, who seems to be doing just fine in the intense heat that fills the attraction.

You quietly gasp, grabbing your throat as smoke fills it even with the makeshift cover. You wince, ripping the cloth off, finding William about three meters from your office. Frantically, you reach towards the vent close button, but when you press it, you hear the sound of failing machinery.

It was broken. 

He broke it the first night, and now you would die because of it.

Blindly grasping for your phone, you send another message to your brother.

'Get fire help' is all you could type out before William pins you to the ground, you barely managing to send it. 

Grabbing your phone out of your hand, William carelessly throws it into the wall, you wincing at the crunching noise. 

"You know, back when I was alive, I did much research on souls. Every soul contains this little thing known as 'Remnant.' Now, Remnant is the only reason I'm alive. There's no way to destroy it, except for fire."

Your eyes widen. 

"This building won't get hot enough to completely destroy our Remnant, so don't worry about that. Still, think of it like a metal. When it gets hot enough, it melts. It can meld into other people's Remnant."

You clench your teeth.

"Of course, there's no way I am going to destroy you. So, instead, I think I'll go with another option." He smirks. 

You can feel your vision get hazy.

"Within this fire I will preserve your warmth, and we will be welded together."

Your lids droop as you feel your breaths become raspy. 

You're going to die to the smoke, not to the fire that roared outside of your office, slowly inching its way in. 

You let out a few more wheezes, feeling lips against your own before your vision goes black.

-

He gets the news less than an hour after he calls the fire department.

His brother, the only immediate family he had left, had died in the fire. 

It doesn't take much thinking to figure out who did it. 

William. 

That man, that murderer, is going to pay.

However long it takes.

-----

i did not plan this out right this part is a lot shorter than it should be but ehh whatever

whoop whoop it is done… I mean I have a sequel planned but either way, this part of the story is done

See ya later :)

[firefly-in-darkness]

Life on Hold

Pairing → Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters → Marvel Characters

Summary → Y/N is pulled out of retirement by Fury, and Bucky is the one to break the news.

Word Count → 2.8k

Prompt → ‘You must be out of your goddamn mind’ for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ Hamilfilm Lyric Challenge 

SSB2021 Square Fill → ‘Where’s the fight?’ - @star-spangled-bingo

Warnings → 18+. Fluff, Angst, Smut. Swearing.

Betas → @daydream3r-xo​ & @fandomfic-galore​ // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → This is my first time taking part in a bingo card and what better way to kick it off than with our boy Bucky and the trifecta of angst, fluff & smut! Hope you enjoy - comments & reblogs are always adored!

Firefly’s Masterlist // Star Spangled Bingo 2021

Fury entered the conference room at Stark Tower with his usually authoritative, no bullshit attitude and the black leather jacket flowing behind him. The Avengers immediately halted their actions; Natasha and Clint gave each other a knowing side-eye, Bucky and Steve placed down their coffees while Wanda, Vision and Bruce stopped their conversation, mid-flow, to turn their attentions to the director.

“Where’s Stark?” Fury looked around for the billionaire, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A voice came through the speakers, “I’m here. Just not here, here.”

Fury turned to the camera in the corner, “Stark, I suggest you get in here now.”

“No can do boss, I’m a little tied up doing good for the community at the moment.” The Iron Man suit’s HUD display appeared in the centre of the room above the table with Stark’s signature smirk, “I’m listening.”

The holographic display changed with the flick of Fury’s hand; Stark’s face appearing in the top right corner while the other information appeared larger. A selection of blueprints for a fortified base, images of various Hydra agents and satellite footage of the surrounding area. Steve flicked through the same information on the tablet in his lap while the rest of the team continued to look at display or Fury for further instruction.

“As you can see, we have collected a lot of information about this particular base. The only problem is that we are struggling to infiltrate it. Our agents have explored every possible way to get inside but it’s becoming more obvious that whatever is happening inside that warehouse is something for the Avengers to deal with.” Fury continued as he walked around the room, hands behind his back.

“What attempts have been made?” Steve asked, the stern tone of Captain America coming through.

The Avengers watched the footage that enlarged in front of Nick Fury; a group of agents moving as one through the dense snow-covered forest until they were repelled back twenty feet.

“That’s the issue. We’ve tried to go through it, over it and under it. We can’t get in so I need the best on this,” Fury pointed at the repeated clip of the soldiers being hit with the force field, “Romanoff, Barton; get reading up on those reports, see if you can find anything that stands out. Maximoff and Vision, start looking into what that force field is and whether you remember it from your Strucker days. Stark, I need you back here for the final briefing by 1800 hours.”

The four Avengers nodded at the director and left the room. Stark disconnected and the hologram disappeared. Bucky remained silent, watching Fury’s every move while Steve reclined in the chair, spinning it towards the director.

“And what about us Sir?” Steve asked, his body tense and irritation not going unnoticed by the remaining attendees.

“I said I needed my best.” Fury pressed his hands against the back of a vacant seat, looking straight to Bucky. “There’s only one person that can help us with this one.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened and he barked in response, “No!”

“He’s right, Buck.” Steve turned to him with a small smile, “we’re going to need all the help we can get. Who knows what’s going on down there?”

“You must be out of your goddamn mind.” Bucky pushed the chair back forcefully and walked to the door, yanking it open. He paused looking back at Steve and Fury, “and I guess, I’m going to be the one to break the news, aren’t I?”

The bell above the door chimed as Bucky entered the florist; he was hit with a multitude of colours and smells that were incredible but the one thing that stood out most to him was the woman tucked between sunflowers and dahlias with an older gentleman. His heart raced at Y/N’s beaming smile as she gathered up the flowers and rang up the cost on the register.

Bucky preoccupied himself with the assortment of blooms and the trinkets scattered around the small shop while she continued to chat with the gentleman, he tried not to listen in to the conversation, but he had to gauge her mood before he approached her, not that she didn’t already know he was there.

“Mr Lee, you cannot make those eyes at me when you’re buying flowers for your wife!” Y/N laughed, “send her my best and that I’ll see her on Sunday for the bake sale.”

“You’ll realise that I’m the one for you sooner or later.” The man waved and passed Bucky, leaving the shop with another jingle of the bell.

Bucky had watched the man leave as he thought of how impressed he was with the way Y/N had settled into this town after a few months. He’d always been impressed with the woman that had managed to retire and find her feet so seamlessly. 

Without turning around, Bucky knew that she was now behind him and her hands would be placed on her hips, a sideways pout on her lips as she waited for him to pay her attention.

“Seeing as we only saw each other on Thursday, Buck, and if someone had died, you’d have called, what could you possibly need on this wonderful Sunday afternoon? Did you miss me that much?” She giggled but then she saw the seriousness in his face once he’d turned around. “Shop closes in an hour; I’ll be up in a bit.”

Bucky felt guilty for dimming the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, she was silent with a blank expression as she unlocked the door leading to her apartment. He’d never experienced the receiving end of the anger that was smothering the atmosphere. Of course, he’d witnessed it aimed at others but never at this level towards himself. 

Y/N kicked off her trainers and untied her apron, slamming it down on the kitchen table. Her fingers clenched around the fabric, and her jaw ticked before she turned to Bucky. He leaned against the door frame and explained how she needed to come out of retirement for a mission, giving her the details about the force field that the SHIELD agents were unable to penetrate.

Bucky waited for Y/N to speak, he learnt long ago that he had to leave her to process whatever it was that was racing through her mind. Y/N had her back to him, one hand gripping the counter and the other holding tightly onto the knife that she’d retrieved to chop vegetables. She turned around and opened her mouth, only for no words to come out and for her to continue preparing dinner. 

The pain and fear that flicked across her features were motivation enough for Bucky to get closer, he strode over and placed his hands on her hips. He felt the tension drop from her body at his touch, a sense of pride swelled as she leant her back into his chest.

“It’s been 113 days since I left. You can’t come here and ask this of me.” Y/N’s voice cracked, and her eyes glossed over as she waved the knife around in front of her, the peppers no longer being diced. 

Bucky’s fingers held her wrist to stop the kitchen utensil from turning into a weapon and rest his chin on her shoulder, “I know doll, but you know why I was sent and not Steve or Fury himself.”

“Yeah, ‘cos they know y’all sweet talk me ‘round.” She scoffed and dropped the knife down with a clatter, turning in his arms to look at him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and fingers threaded through the loose strands while a smirk crept up her face, “and they knew that I wouldn’t castrate you either.”

Bucky chuckled and nudged his nose against hers before their lips lightly brushed one another, a soft peck and Y/N unravelled and continued with prepping the food. Stirring the partly prepared sauce heating on the stove, Bucky watched her form soften but he knew that it would be short-lived.

“Where’s the fight?” She whispered, as if she already knew but didn’t want to believe it.

“Poland.” He slipped back and took a seat at the kitchen table, knowing that she would turn around in an instant with another burst of anger. 

And as if on cue, Y/N threw a tomato at the wall to her left, the juices staining the neutral paint as it slid down. She whirled around and pointed the wooden spoon at him, “I can’t believe those jerks! They don’t even have the balls to talk to me themselves and instead, they send my lovely, innocent and ridiculously handsome boyfriend to woo me into returning to the field.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call myself innocent.” Bucky tried to lighten the mood, but it had the opposite effect.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Y/N paced the length of the kitchen in a few steps before spinning around and walking back again. Defeated with the inevitable of visiting the country she grew up in, she collapsed on Bucky’s lap. “What about my shop? Do they not realise that I have a business to run? I’m not an Avenger, I'm just an ordinary civilian.”

“You’re everything but ordinary.” His arms pulled Y/N closer to him, her head burrowing under his chin, “It’s okay sweetheart, Diane can run the place in your absence, she knows what she’s doing. We’ll be gone a week at most. I made sure to get a month of vacation off afterwards so we can do this place up.”

Y/N’s head snapped up, bashing Bucky’s chin making him bite the inside of his cheek. The blood filled his mouth, but he swallowed it down and cupped her face at the sight of the unshed tears in her eyes.

“Really? Do you mean that? Because being with you for one night every two weeks is horrible.” Her bottom lip poked out and Bucky wobbled it with his index finger.

“Yes, of course, doll.” He smiled and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

“Hold up!” Y/N pulled away from him, her hands pressed firmly into his chest, “you’re sweet talkin’ me, aren’t you?”

“Nothing gets past you.” Bucky’s head fell back as the laughter rumbled through his chest and Y/N stood up. He swatted her butt cheek, “get a move on with dinner, we have to leave in an hour.”

“James Buchanan Barnes!” She spun around, a feigned look of shock and her hand clutched to her chest. Her agape mouth dropped into a smirk as she leant forward, rubbing her nose against his. “If you’re still into this sweet talkin’ thing…” 

Y/N spun on her heel and with a sway of her hips, wandered to the door. She looked back over her shoulder, “well, are you coming or what?”

Bucky was on his feet in seconds, chasing her down the corridor. Giggles filled the apartment as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her into the air. He fell backwards onto the bed, dropping her to his side gracefully. 

Both looked at the other, full of smiles and breathless from the short jog. The contrast of cold metal against Y/N’s warm cheek sent a shiver down her spine, and the way Bucky focused on her lips filled her core with want. The laughter died down and desire took over, as their faces inched closer and until they were ghosting over each other’s lips.

“Thought I had to sweet talk you, doll?” Bucky mumbled against Y/N’s parted mouth; his beard scratched deliciously against her.

In retaliation, she pushed on top of him, straddling his waist and feeling the rough texture of the tactical gear hidden beneath the hoodie, “well, what can I see, could never resist a man in Kevlar.”

Y/N ducked down and pressed a light peck to Bucky’s lips. He immediately took control, his hand holding the back of her head and deepening the kiss while his hardening groin rubbed against her clothed sex.

All thoughts of the mission and Poland disappeared with each item of clothing they discarded. Their minds focused on bringing the other to the edge of ecstasy with every kiss, lick, and stroke. Their bodies hummed with desire and need, entangled together above the sheets.

Bucky pinned Y/N to the bed, holding her hands above her head in his grip while he peppered kisses down her neck, and across her now beautifully exposed body. His hold loosened as he neared her sensitive parts, the mewling sounds above him sent repeated shocks of pleasure to his already stiff member.

Y/N couldn’t handle the wait any longer, her hips tilting up towards in demand of his mouth. It was oh so close but still far away from her bundle of nerves, “please Bucky, I need you.”

Not one to disappoint or let his girl beg for too long, Bucky teased her drenched cunt with his fingertips. She whimpered in response, pride swelled in his chest and pushed him to lick a stripe through her lips, tongue swirling over her clit.

“Fuck” Y/N stuttered out; one hand tugged on his locks while the other palmed her breasts.

Bucky moaned, the vibrations pushing Y/N closer to her orgasm. He continued to eat her cunt with ferocity. Bucky always marvelled at how he’d almost cum from the sounds of her moans and the taste of her pleasure. His cock ached as he rubbed the precum across his tip and gripped his shaft to hold off his orgasm until he felt the friction of her tight cunt, until he was deep inside her.

Kisses lightly pressed along her thighs and her stomach; Bucky didn’t miss a single spot, blemish or scar on her body. Her body glowed in the post-orgasmic haze, her fingers softly stroking through his locks as he hovered above her.

Bucky faltered when he saw her eyes glistened with unshed tears and the tremble of her lip, “Doll, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“Oh, sweet man,” Y/N cupped his cheek, his head resting into her palm, “of course not. I’m just scared of going back. Of losing myself to my past. Of losing you.”

Bucky let go of the breath he held, a small piece of him was glad that he hadn’t done anything to hurt the precious person lying beneath him but the rest of him filled with the need to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay. And that is what he did.

He rolled to her side, gathered her up in his hold and pressed soft kisses to the top of her head, “I can’t promise that it won’t be hard. Going back there, to those monsters. But I can promise you that you won’t lose me. I’ll be with you every step of the way, like you have been there for me.”

Y/N clung to Bucky’s waist; her legs entwined with his while she let the tears flow. Her fear subsided with each drop, the caress of Bucky’s fingers along her arm and the sweet nothings he whispered into her ear.

Y/N packed her bag while Bucky returned to the kitchen to fix her something to eat. Even though he had developed incredible hearing, he couldn’t make out the Ukrainian words that she mumbled in between ‘Steve’ and ‘Fury’ or the slams of the bedroom furniture. But what he did know was that they weren’t going to be any terms of endearment to her former superiors.

Minutes later, Y/N had returned with an outfit change and dropped the holdall to her feet. Bucky’s heart thumped against his chest and a blush heated his cheeks as she winked at him. Even after all this time, seeing her in the black uniform always sent his heart racing and Y/N knew exactly how he felt about the uniform.

They ate the meal in silence as Y/N scanned the details on the tablet, both now brought up to speed with the latest developments from Natasha’s intel; alien technology being sold across the black market. What’s new. Bucky rolled his eyes at the information, there was always some bad guy with a bunch of weaponry, that they didn’t understand, trying to use it for evil.

Once again, Y/N disappeared into other parts of the apartment while Bucky loaded his black truck with her holdall and waited for her arrival in the cab. She hopped into the passenger seat and appeared calm, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he should prepare to duck for cover when they arrived at the briefing room.

Luckily for Bucky, Natasha and Clint pulled him aside to go over their new findings. Not so lucky for Steve and Fury, who would have to deal with the wrath of the retired Avenger.

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[ragingpancake]

I Got You

A/N: I watched Echoes the other night and frankly, I just needed to write this. Sort of an unofficial sequel to The Road to Nowhere Leads to Me.

They’re almost back to Atlantis from the mainland when Rodney realizes that maybe something’s a bit off with Sheppard – er… John (and he has to remind himself to start calling Shep—John by his first name because this whole… thing between this is still relatively new and it’s probably not social acceptable for one to refer to one’s boyfriend by last name only). No one would ever really call him chatty, but this level of quietness is almost unsettling, especially when Rodney tries to goad him into some gentle bantering and he’s just not having it. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks finally as the city is just coming into view. “Huh?” Rodney squints, mouth turning down in a frown. “I certainly didn’t stutter, Colonel.” Maybe that’ll get his attention.

He waits a moment, and then two. Nope. Nada. The lights are on but nobody’s home. “… John.”

At that, John lifts a hand and presses the heel of it against one of his eyes, wincing and Rodney notices for the first time how not well the other actually looks. “I’ve just… got this killer headache that won’t go away,” he says and it actually sounds pained in a way that Rodney isn’t quite used to from him. He watches as John squints at the city in the distance. “Maybe I should take over?” For a split second, he thinks John might be considering it before he shakes his head. “Nah, s’alright. I know how much you struggle to fly in a straight line.” There’s the smallest hint of teasing in his voice but Rodney doesn’t rise to the challenge because it’s such a weak attempt on John’s part that he knows he’d absolutely assassinate John with a comeback and where’s the fun in that? “Are you sure? Because, because I’ve been in one of these things when it’s crashed into the water, if you remember correctly, and I really have no intention of repeating that, so if you aren’t feeling well, I’d rather just--.” “Rodney,” John says and now, there’s a trace of a bite to his tone. Wow. Hostile. “Okay, I’m just saying--.” “I know,” John says. “But it’s fine. I’ve got it.” Rodney resigns himself to believing that for about a split second until he glances over again and notices the blood dripping from John’s nose. “John--.” “Dammit, Rodney! I said I’m--.” And whatever lie John was about to tell dies on his lips as he slumps over, head smacking the console. Immediately, Rodney leaps into action, grabbing John before he slips out of the pilot’s chair to ease him down onto the floor, his head lulling to the side sickeningly. “Jumper 1, this is Atlantis, come in. Your course has drastically shifted.” Radek’s voice comes through the comm system in the jumper and Rodney suddenly realizes that no one is, you know, actually piloting. “I need a medical team to the Jumper Bay. Sheppard is down, I repeat, Sheppard is down.” He scrambles into the pilot’s chair and manages to jerk it upwards approximately three point five seconds before the jumper crashes into the ocean. “Rodney?” It’s Elizabeth’s voice now, and she sounds about as worried as Rodney feels. “Carson’s here. What happened?” “Can’t talk now! Trying to fly and not, you know, crash and send us both to our deaths in the horrifically vast ocean. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.” “Rodney!” “Just have them standing by!” He cuts off the comm system and glances down at John who has not yet regained consciousness. “Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay.” It becomes his mantra as he somehow manages to navigate the jumper back to the city and into the bay. He barely has time to lower the door before a med team is swarming in and before Rodney has a chance to so much as breathe, they’re gone, John with them. There’s a small bit of blood on the floor from where John was laying and Rodney has to work very hard not to throw up. ---- It’s dark in the hallway, save for the faint blue glow emanating from the center of the wall closest to him. He reaches out, hand pressing against it and he can feel the thrum of hurt intensifying, adding to what’s already there in his head. He staggers at the force of it, drops to his knees and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes in an attempt to stave off the pounding of his head. But this isn’t his hurt, he realizes after a moment. It’s hers, and that thought alone is enough to force him back to his feet, hand reaching out to touch that blue light again. This time, he feels an almost burning heat fanning out from the center of his hand as the blue expands and he watches as it begins to creep across the wall, almost as if it’s beckoning him to follow. He’s never been good at following orders and he has the record to prove it, but he finds his feet moving, seemingly of their own accord, allowing the glow to lead him down the darkened hallway for what seems like forever until it stops, finally, at a room he doesn’t quite recognize. “Why am I here?” Because I need your help, she answers

back, the words cool and gentle within his mind. Find me, John Sheppard. Before it’s too late. “Before what’s too late? What are you trying to tell me?” But she’s already receding from his mind and all he’s left with is a light so bright that penetrates the darkness as John opens his eyes. --- Rodney’s there when John finally comes to under the bright lights of the infirmary. “Oh thank God,” he says as he slumps back into the chair, running a hand across his forehead. “Far be it from me to say I told you so, but--.” He doesn’t get a chance to finish before John is sitting up so quickly that it makes Rodney a bit dizzy, kicking the blankets off of his legs. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He stands up, pressing a hand to John’s shoulder to ease him back down onto the mattress and Ronon is on the other side of the bed, doing the same. “Where do you think you’re goin’?” The Satedan asks in his natural rumble. “I have to help her,” John says and Rodney suddenly finds himself a bit miffed at that. “Help who?” He asks and if he sounds a little pissy, he thinks he’s probably allowed because you know, he’s the one been sitting at John’s bedside for the last several hours, worried very much about the possibility of brain damage and now that he’s awake, the first thing he mentions is some second rate harlot and--. “The city,” he rasps and he grabs Ronon’s wrist, trying to force it off of him. “Something’s wrong with the city.” “What? The city is fine,” Rodney says, but he’s reaching for his tablet anyway, pulling up the city schematics to scan over quickly, searching for any indication that something was not right. “See?” He says, and he turns the tablet to face John so he can see for himself. “The back up teams cleaned everything up nicely, there’s absolutely nothing that would indicate--.” “Rodney,” he says and there’s an almost wild look in his eyes as he glances up at the scientist, seemingly pleading with him to just listen. “They missed something. There’s something wrong, we have to--.” “Aye,” Carson greets, a smile on his face. “There ya are. Ya had us quite worried there for a bit. I’d still like to run a few scans--.” Rodney tunes him out as he searches John’s face and he supposes that there is a possibility that something was missed. It’s a huge city, many parts that they’ve yet to explore and the Wraith attack had been devastating. He rationalizes that this could also possibly be attributed to some sort of brain injury, what with the bleeding and the passing out and everything but something in John’s eyes gives him pause. Whatever’s brought him to this conclusion, John seems to truly believe that there’s something wrong with their city, with their home and while Rodney isn’t apt to act without actual evidenced based data, he finds that he can’t quite let this go without investigating. “Stop,” he says, holding up a hand to Carson. “We need to go.” “Go? What are ye on about?” Carson asks, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “We still don’ know what caused the bleedin’ an’--.” “Something’s wrong with the city,” Rodney says, echoing John’s previous statement. “We have to go.” Ronon glances at Rodney from across John’s bed and when Rodney gives a barely there nod, Ronon crowds Carson, gently ushering him away. “Sorry, doc.” “Oh, ye can’t be serious! Rodney!” “Can you stand?” Rodney asks John, and he reaches for him, carefully like he’s not sure where it’s okay to touch, especially in public, but John’s hand grabs his wrists and he squeezes gently. “Thank you.” “If you really want to thank me,” Rodney says dryly, “you can do so by not passing out on me again during what is sure to be a long trip around the city. “I’ll do my best,” John answers solemnly and Rodney supposes that’s as good as it gets. --- It’s dark outside, the Lantean sun having set several hours ago. They’ve split up into groups, Ronon and Teyla, Lorne and McMasters, John and Rodney. They’ve had absolutely no luck in finding anything of consequence and Rodney is trying very hard not to lose his temper because he’s

tried to show John on the tablet several times now that everything still shows all is well, but John is insistent. Desperate even, only growing moreso the farther away they get from the heart of the city. “Teyla, Ronon, this is McKay. Anything?” “No, Rodney,” Teyla answers back almost immediately. “It seems as though everything is still working as it should over this way.” “Lorne?” “All good here, doc. I’m gonna suggest we call it, at least for the night. Some of these labs haven’t properly been cleared yet, I’d like to--.” “No,” John says and when Rodney glances over to give him an exasperated glare, he realizes that John’s nose is bleeding again. “John, what are you--!” “This is the hallway,” he tells Rodney, reaching up to wipe the blood away, smearing it to his cheek. “This is… she needs us…” He reaches out and touches the wall and Rodney watches as it pulsates under his hand, a blue glow flickering to life. He’s always known that Atlantis liked John better than she liked anyone else, has seen it in the way rooms light up for him, the effortless way in which John activates all her tech, but this… this is something else. She’s actually communicatingwith him, he knows it. “Three levels above the east pier,” Rodney says into his comm. “Teyla—” “We are already on our way,” and over the radio, Rodney can hear the heavy footfalls of their feet against the floor. Rodney doesn’t realize that John has walked away, not at first, until he turns to see the glow halfway down the hall, barely illuminating John’s figure as it guides him further into the darkness. Rodney follows, and suddenly, John stops outside of a door. “Is this it?” Rodney asks, but he already knows the answer to the question. He slides his hand over the crystal, but the door doesn’t budge, not that Rodney expected it to. “Okay,” he says, and his voice is gentle now, perhaps more gentle than it’s ever been, but there’s something about the pinched look on John’s face that honestly, truly worries him. It reminds him of how he looked on the jumper, right before he, you know, passed out. He checks his tablet, but he knows it’s a moot point because the city is off-line down here, which is why they never knew there was a problem. The sensors just don’t reach this far, but he thinks he should be able to still get the door open. “John,” Rodney says, and there’s no response. “John.” But John seems not to hear him as he reaches for the door, fingers gripping the edge as he tries, desperately, to pull it open. “Oh, oh. Yes.” Rodney puts the tablet down carefully and he moves to the other side, glancing at John to follow his lead and as John pulls again, the noise that escapes him sends a shiver down Rodney’s spine. He screams as the door finally slides open and now, Rodney notices the blood trickling out of John’s ear, just in time to grab John as he crumples, guiding him to the floor. “Rodney!” Teyla’s voice echoes down the hallway, and Rodney calls back, voice nearing on hystericalas he situates himself below John to pillow his head on his lap. “Here! We’re here!” Ronon comes into view first, gun aimed, followed quickly by Teyla. “We heard screaming, what—John?” “It’s Atlantis!” Rodney says, “She’s using John to communicate, there’s something--.” Ronon needs to hear no more as he slips through the opened door and a second later, there’s the sound of laser fire. Rodney’s petting over John gently, shaking him gently, pleading with him to wake up but it’s to no avail. Teyla has disappeared inside of the room that John brought them to and Rodney risks a fraction of a moment to lean down, letting his lips brush against John’s forehead. “Please, please, please wake up.” John resolutely does not. --- “Did we do it?” He’s somewhere quiet and he’s alone, but he can feel her around him, leaving him warm and comforted, reminding him very much of being wrapped up in his mother’s embrace when he was seven and had the flu. He remembers that because before coming to Atlantis, it was the last time he felt well and

truly loved because she’d died less than three weeks later. You did, and he closes his eyes, letting her warmth wash over him. The pain is gone, both his and hers, he realizes and there’s a feeling of contriteness that settles inside of him, like she’s saying she’s sorry and he guesses she means for basically hijacking his mind. But, as unsettling as it should be, he finds that he’s always known she was there, really. The gentle thrumming, the quiet humming of her power he feels tucked away somewhere in the back of his mind. She wasn’t trying to hurt him, he knows. It’s not just his found family that cares for him, not just Rodney… but her too. There will be no lasting damage, she promises him and the warmth begins to recede, just a bit. To either you or me. But please tell Doctor McKay not to be too angry with me. The darkness is fading now with her and he’s not really sure why she thinks Rodney would be upset with her. He tries to ask, but the feeling of a gentle hand in his hair, a quiet murmuring of voices, breaks through and John closes his eyes, letting it guide him out of the dark. Thank you once again, John Sheppard. You saved us all. --- “—still don’t understand how we didn’t know it was here,” Elizabeth says and Rodney has to fight not to roll his eyes because they’ve been over this, he’s explained it ad nauseum. “The life signs detector is tied in directly with the city’s power grid,” he says exasperatedly and he thinks about reaching for his tablet as a nice visual aide but somewhere along the way, his hand had settled into John’s hair and it’s so soft that he kind of doesn’t want to pull it away. He doesn’t know if it brings John any comfort, but it brings him some, feeling the warmth of the other under his hand and damn if he’ll let anyone take that away from him. Even at the sake of his own sanity for having to go through this again. “That part of the city still doesn’t get any power. No power means it can’t communicate with us. We never would’ve known.” “… never would’ve known what?” The raspy voice from the bed asks and Rodney very nearly topples out of his chair as he yanks his hand back, gaping down at John, and “oh, thank god!” “Wraith,” Ronon says by way of explanation, like it’s the most natural thing in the world and Rodney supposes maybe it is. After all, at least for right now, it’s the Wraith that’s proved to be their biggest pain in the ass. “Technically, a Wraith transmitter,” Rodney corrects and he can’t quite tear his eyes away. “The Wraith was.. well, indisposed, as it was. How are you feeling?” “What d’y’mean ‘indisposed’?” “It blew itself up when it realized that the room was heavily shielded and that the beacon couldn’t get through,” Ronon says and Rodney glares at him, because he’sthe one who likes to do all the explaining, thank you very much. “Blew a hole in the wall almost the size of a jumper.” “Yes, well,” Rodney says, steering the conversation back, “somehow, there was some sort of a fail safe built into the city’s infrastructure. There was a kind of a force field where the wall used to be, not unlike that of the cells, but with no power, it wouldn’t have held much longer. When it failed, that thing would’ve sent our coordinates to every Wraith hive ship in the galaxy and well, the ruse would’ve been up. But enough about that, how are you feeling?” “Kinda like I got hit by a truck,” John says and he shifts on the bed to sit up a bit more. “The transmitter’s been taken care of?” “Blasted into almost as many pieces as the Wraith,” Ronon says proudly and Teyla squeezes his arm gently. “We are very glad that you are awake, John,” she says diplomatically, “but perhaps it would be best if we let you rest?” “Whaddya mean? That’s all he’s been doing,” Ronon scoffs, but Teyla tugs at his arm anyway, bless her. “Come,” she says. “Elizabeth, perhaps I could help you in your office, go over the schedule for the teams set to search the rest of the city?” And whatever look she shares with Elizabeth has her nodding, turning to give them both a

smile. “Of course, thank you Teyla,” she says and she reaches out for John, squeezing his arm gently. “Good to have you back with us, John.” John lifts a hand in response as everyone filters out, leaving him and Rodney alone. “You’re an idiot,” Rodney says, just because it’s expected of him, has become part of their standard routine whenever John lands himself in the infirmary. “For what?” “Oh, I don’t know, for letting a sentient city scramble your brains.” “She said she’s sorry, you know,” John says and Rodney rolls his eyes. “Of course she did. And when did we decide that she was a sheafter all? I suppose it makes sense, what with the way women across twogalaxies fawn over you, the famous Colonel Kirk.” “It’s okay to be jealous, Rodney.” “Excuse me? I am not jealous! I just think it’s a little funny that--.” “She even said she hopes you’re not too mad at her,” John interrupts. “What? Why would she care about that?” “I dunno,” he shrugs and he lays back against the pillow, closing his eyes. “Guess she knows how important you are to me. Probably wouldn’t wanna get in your bad graces…” He still can’t get used to this, this… thing. Where they care about each other, but have finally matured enough emotionally to say it out loud. “Yes well,” Rodney sniffs, and settles his hand back against John’s hair, “I’ll forgive her this time. But you tell that harlot--!” “Rodney,” John groans, “she said she’s sorry.” “Alright, alright,” he says and he leans forward, maybe a bit hesitantly, before he presses his lips against John’s. “I’m just… glad you’re okay.” “Yeah,” John agrees. “Me too, buddy. Now how about less talking and more hair petting?” Frankly, there’s nowhere else Rodney would rather be. “Go back to sleep, dummy.” “With pleasure.”

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Another Friday night stabby glitched game idea, if your motivation's still moving in that direction!

A game that doesn't properly recognise the end when the Impostors outnumber the Crewmates, leaving Tango the sole survivor being openly hunted down by Impostors Brody and Impulse. Maybe he finishes the last task against the odds, maybe he gets slaughtered, maybe nobody ever figures out what went wrong with that game...your choice! I just love the spookyness of being alone on a ship with emergency alarms blaring and your-friends-but-not-quite tracking you down... Add code-level bloodlust and/or alien Impostor mutations to taste, if you'd like. Extra fun! :)

so bc the prompt was more horror-y, i took that as a dare to make this as horror-y as my non-horror-minded mind possibly can >:)

…

Something is extremely wrong. Tango’s been staring at the admin table for thirty full seconds now and there’s definitely only three players left. But the thing is… they haven’t voted anybody out. And the special roles are off, so there’s no sheriff. That means there’s still two imposters left.

...so why has the game not ended…?

Finally, Tango leaves the admin table and reluctantly checks his task list. He only has the download in comms left, which means he has to do that and then return here for the upload. As the only crewmate left alive, and the task bar so close to completion, he knows he has to do it.

However, at that moment, the oxygen alarm goes off. Tango quickly enters the number in the keypad in admin, before sprinting out towards O2, knowing that neither Impulse nor Brody is going to reset it.

Thankfully, neither imposter is waiting for him when he gets there and he’s able to punch in the second code. But the alarm doesn’t stop blaring. The red lights don’t stop flashing. His tablet tells him that the emergency timer has stopped.

Another glitch.

Thoroughly unnerved by the flashing lights and deep alarm sound still going off, Tango rushes from O2 down towards communications.

However, as he gets to shields, he spots the vent opening and he skids to a halt, finding himself face to face with Brody.

“H-Hi,” he squeaks out.

“I don’t know why the game hasn’t finished yet, but like hell am I losing now,” Brody snarls back. “Come here.”

Tango immediately turns tail and flees. He has no idea where Impulse is but his terror has just increased tenfold. Avoiding the vents as much as he can, he bursts back into the cafeteria, intending to loop back around to comms.

But as he does, he spots movement just inside admin and quickly changes course, running past medbay, through upper engine, and into security. Panting, he checks the security cameras. He can see Brody hovering around just inside admin, but there’s no sign of Impulse.

He hears a vent creak.

And now realises he’s stationed himself in a room with a vent and closable doors.

Abandoning security, he dashes out towards electrical, his head starting to pound at the alarm still blaring in his ears. Darting inside, he peers out and spots a figure just leaving storage, heading towards admin. He thinks it might be Impulse, but he can’t quite tell if the figure is yellow or white.

After a moment, he risks making a run for it. Using the pile of boxes in the centre of storage as cover, he makes it through and into communications.

The ten seconds his download takes are the longest seconds of Tango’s life. He has to check over his shoulder every second or so, just to make sure nobody is sneaking up on him. But finally, it’s over.

One more task. Ten more seconds. Then they can all go home.

Tango peers out of communications. He can see nobody to the left or the right, but he suspects Impulse and Brody might still be hanging around admin.

But as he carefully makes his way around towards navigation, he happens to glance up and spots the red flashing light on the side of the security camera.

Someone’s watching him.

His stomach drops but he forces himself to keep going. Not long now. He’s so close to the end.

Elsewhere on the ship, Impulse leaves security. He doesn’t know where Brody is and he doesn’t much care at the moment. All he knows is that there’s only one task left and it must be Tango’s.

He doesn’t know why, but the urge to kill is even stronger than it usually is. It’s like the 3rd Life bloodlust combined with the normal imposter urges. Tango is one of his best friends and yet the desire to hunt him down and tear him down with his knife is overwhelmingly strong.

In admin, Tango stands at the upload panel, jiggling anxiously from foot to foot as he watches his last task slowly complete. His heart pounds in his chest, sweat trickling down his back. He’s never been so terrified in his life.

A second or two before the upload finishes, something moves in the corner of his vision and he whirls around just in time to catch Impulse’s wrist before the dagger gets embedded in his chest.

“G-Get away from me!” he shrieks.

The two tussle for a while, struggling over the knife. As Tango tries to wrench it out of Impulse’s grasp, he feels a slight sting in his side but he ignores it and manages to shove Impulse away from him. The knife clatters to the ground as Impulse hits his head on the wall outside admin, knocking him out.

Panting, Tango turns back to the admin panel but another sharp sting in his side causes his hand to automatically fly to the area. To his shock, it comes away red and sticky.

Impulse must have got him in the scuffle.

The pain hits him just then and he almost collapses immediately.

But something in his code says NO.

He hasn’t survived this long against all the odds just to die to one tiny little stab wound just seconds from the end.

So he drags himself to his feet and determinedly plugs his tablet back into the upload task, forcing himself to stay awake as long as he can. Using his leg as a makeshift support, he presses himself against the wall, his stiff knee the only thing stopping him from keeling over.

Come on… come on…

But finally, he can’t take it anymore. His knees buckle and he slips down the wall, ending up in a sitting position leaning against it. He watches his tablet clatter to the floor with subdued dismay.

So close.

Breathing heavily in and out, his fuzzy mind wanders. For the first time in this game, he’s genuinely scared of dying. There’s been so many glitches this game; what if “the final glitch”, as the group generally refer to it, is one of them?

What if Tango doesn’t respawn when he dies?

If the game doesn’t reset, Tango won’t come back to life. He’ll never see any of his deceased friends again. Impulse and Brody will be trapped as bloodthirsty monsters in this fake purgatory forever.

His eyes flicker to Impulse, who hasn’t moved. He swallows back a sob as the reality that he might never see his best friend again sets in. Maybe the last memories they’ll have of each other will be them hurting each other.

That hurts more than the stab wound.

Fear of death has helped Tango to cling on to his last shreds of life, but it’s not enough anymore. Knowing he’s coming close to the end, he summons his last vestiges of energy and crawls doggedly out of admin. He desperately wants to reach Impulse; if he has to die, he wants to die hand in hand with his best friend, even if said best friend was the person who killed him.

He just doesn’t want to die alone.

But try as he might, he just can’t reach Impulse. His energy entirely gone, all he can do is lie helplessly on the ground, bleeding out, inches from death and from his best friend. He can’t hold back the tears anymore as he stretches his arm out with his rapidly draining strength, his hand less than a foot from Impulse's.

The last thing he sees before he slips away is Impulse’s own brown eyes opening.

[gh0styyt0astyy]

hm.. now i'm thinkin, right.. with your other two fics of deimos being an absolute little shit, what if either hank, sanford, or both got back at him for it... sanford getting involved would be a pretty big betrayal after helping him out with hank... (ps despite the fact that i did make it before i saw it i'm 99% sure i posted my drawing of dei and san ganging up on hank a couple hours after you posted the fic of them and i'm now unofficially half jokingly declaring it as fanart of that fic because good scenario PFDNKNDGKDJSF)

✨ [Karma’s a bitch] ✨

( HEY I HOPE U DONT MIND I MATCHED THIS UP W/ ANOTHER REQUEST THEY JUST WORKED TOO PERFECTLY TOGETHER )

———————————

⭐️ [Summary] — In which Deimos comes to understand the meaning of “your actions have consequences.” (Lee!Deimos and Ler!Sanford + Ler! Hank)

guess the dude cant take what he dishes out…

key:

deimos

hank

sanford

⭐️ [Warnings] — TICKLE FIC; MILD LANGUAGE; also hank accidentally gets kicked in the face; if you don’t like then please just scroll on T_T

⭐️ [Prompts:] no. 8 + 10 / hank and sanford get their revenge

✨ Enjoy ! ✨

—————————

If there was one thing that Deimos was good at; it was being an absolute little shit. (Minus his hacking, fighting and semi decent medical skills.) A cocky little shit who was way too good at all of this.

“All of this” being; tasering Hank in the ribs, suddenly grabbing Sanford’s sides and running away, sometimes getting both Hank and Sanford in one good day.

Hank was done with Deimos’ shit, and Sanford just wanted revenge. So that’s what would happen. Sanford was gonna get his revenge, and he knew Hank would want in on that too. (I mean, c’mon. Hank is ALL ABOUT revenge.)

“Hank,” Sanford walked up to the man, poking him in the back. Hank’s shoulders jumped as he turned around quickly, shoulders falling back down but remaining tense. “I want your help.”

Hank stood there quietly, staring at Sanford. It was always so hard to understand what Hank was thinking behind those goggles.

“What is it.” Hank said, tilting his head slightly; Sanford grinned widely before he looked around the place. He grabbed Hank’s wrist (electing to ignore the jolt in Hank’s body) and dragged him to a different room.

“I want revenge.”

Hank perked up.

“I wanna get back at Deimos. You in?”

Hank thought, silently staring at Sanford. (At least, Sanford would assume he was being stared at.) “…So…?”

“What’s your plan?”

Sanford pumped his fist in the air as he leaned up towards Hank.

“Deimos!” Sanford called from another room, causing the other to lift his head from the little tablet he held. “Yeah?” Deimos called back. “C’mere for a sec, will you?” Deimos furrowed his brow. “Uh, sure.” He set down the tablet and headed off towards Sanford’s voice.

“San?” Deimos called out, entering the room he had heard Sanford in. “Over here, Dei.”

It was their storage room. Where the three would usually drop their weapons and stuff for the day before they conked out. “Hey San. What’s up?” Sanford motioned Deimos over. “Come here, I need you to look at something.” Deimos walked over, crouching down next to Sanford. “I thought I saw something glowing in there.” Sanford said, pointing into the closet. Deimos raised an eyebrow before peeking in. Something glowing? “What color?”

“Not sure. Didn’t get a good look at it.”

“Hm.” Deimos hummed. And then he saw it— a dull red glow that shone in Deimos’ face. “What the hell?” The glow got brighter and brighter before—

“AGK! SHIT!”

Hank leapt out of the dark closet and tackled Deimos to the ground, wrestling with him for a moment before Hank overpowered him and kept him to the floor. “GOOD GOD! Holy shit, Hank! What the hell!?” Deimos struggled under Hank’s hold.

“That was easier than it should’ve been.” Was all that Hank said, looking up at Sanford. “Excuse me?” Deimos said, a small tone of offense in his voice as Sanford walked up to stand beside the two. He crouched down with a small smirk on his face, Deimos looked between Hank and Sanford. “What are you two planning?” He asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

“Deimos. You ever heard the saying, what was it… “Karma’s a bitch?” Hank asked.

“…Yeesss…?” Deimos answered, suspicion rising.

“How about the saying “your actions have consequences.”

“Yes Hank, I’ve heard these sayings before. Why are you—“

Suddenly it hit Deimos, the way Sanford sat at his head and took his wrists from Hank’s hands. The way Hank kept him on the floor. “Oh. Oh shit.” Deimos muttered.

“Yeaah. I’m sure you see where this is going.” Sanford said, holding both of Deimos’ wrists with one hand.

Deimos, honestly, was extremely nervous. But he huffed, refusing to show through his facade.

“I wonder how long you can go without laughing.” Hank mused, tilting his head again (in a way that looks threatening, but no harm was showing.)

“I can last longer than you did, Wimbleton.” Deimos said with a huff, flinching inwards on himself at a sudden jab at the spot where his shoulder met with his ribs. “You’re awfully cocky for someone who’s ticklish.” Sanford shot at him, tightening on Deimos wrists as he tugged. “Oh no, you aren’t going anywhere.”

“First of all, I am not ticklish. Second of all, you guys are just wasting your time.” Deimos said, brows furrowing. Hank just stared before looking at Sanford. (In all honesty, Hank had no clue what to do. He’d just follow Sanford’s lead.)

“You aren’t, huh?” Sanford said, poking at Deimos again. Sanford didn’t miss the way Deimos flinched inwards again and (seemingly) bit the inside of his cheek. “Nope. Unlike you two.” Deimos grinned. “Alright then, you cocky bastard.” Hank butted in, latching onto Deimos’ legs. “You obviously wouldn’t mind us doing this, then. Would you?”

Deimos blinked, before seemingly understanding the situation he was in. “Look okay— usually I’d let you two have at it but I- um— okay okAY LISTEN-“ Deimos’ voice raised an octave, nerves jumping in his throat.

This was gonna suck.

“…would an apology make you let me go?” Deimos tried, watching as Sanford and Hank passed each other glances. “No.” Hank said, Sanford just grinned.

“Okay, I’m done waiting. Hank? Y’ready?” Deimos sucked in a breath, nervously. Hank was the master of making people antsy with how long he took to answer. The goggled man nodded.

Deimos tried to prepare himself, but he let out an awkward squawk as Sanford tased and circled on Deimos’ ribs. “AHAHGK—!” He yelped, clamping his mouth shut. Hank kneaded and clawed Deimos’ hips and lower sides. Deimos looked determined to keep any laughter inside. He shook his head. “Noh- nope— I’m naha— I’m not ticklish!” “Bullshit!” Sanford said, tickling the other side of Deimos’ ribs; it earned him a small snort.

Hank didn’t relent from his spots, either. He kept one hand on Deimos’ hips and the other started tweaking the skin of his legs.

“bweAHA- SHIHIT!” Deimos yelped again, trying to move away from Hank’s hand. “Oh? What was thaaaaat, Dei-Dei?” Sanford drew out, earning a frustrated and embarrassed whine from Deimos. “Huh… that’s funny,” Hank said, looking at Sanford, then Deimos. “I thought you said you could last longer than me? You didn’t… lie, did you?”

“I think he lied about a lot of things.”

“I dihihihid nohohaHAHT!” Deimos suddenly squeaked, arching his back before flopping back down. Sanford was vibrating his fingers into his stomach. “waHAHAIT WAHIHIHIT! SHIHIHIT!” Deimos tugged his arms again, trying to release himself from Sanford’s grip. “Lehehet gohoho!” Deimos whined.

“That’s funny, I thought I had said the same thing!” Sanford hummed in thought. “But alas, you didn’t listen…”

“I—Ihihihi’m sahahohorry!” “Hm.” Hank hummed. “You know, laughter in an apology doesn’t make it sincere. I don’t think you are.”

“Cohohohome ohohohon! I dihihihdn’t meEAHAHN IHIHIT—!” Deimos kicked his legs, trying to get Hank’s hands off as he tried to move away from Sanford’s. “Remember when you did this to me?” Hank asked, clawing at Deimos’ hips and sometimes shooting up to his ribs.

Deimos pulled his elbows to his face as best he could, hiding the creeping blush. He squealed when Sanford pinched his stomach. “SAHAHAHANFOHOHORD YOU TRAHAHAHAHITOR!” Deimos belted out loud laughter as Sanford only grinned.

Slowly, the tickling sensations stopped on Deimos’ body, the man in question letting out shaky laughs and breathing. Deimos sucked in a sharp breath as he felt his shirt ride up. “Wait wahAHAHIT WAHAHAIT! Lehehet’s tahahalk about thihihihis!”

Sanford thought, and so did Hank. The two looked at each other before shaking their heads. “Nah.” Was all Sanford said before blowing a raspberry on Deimos’ stomach.

“OHOHOHOHOH SHIHIHIT- OH MY GOHOHOHOD!” Deimos let out, his body going limp while his legs frantically kicked.

It was all fun and games until—

*CRRRRK!*

Sanford and Deimos stopped immediately, after realizing that Hank had accidentally been booted in the face. His goggles having broken and fallen off. If Hank was in pain he sure didn’t show it.

“OHOHO SHIT! Hahahnk! Hahank I’m sorry!” Deimos gasped, sitting up after Sanford had let him go.

Hank laid there on his back for a minute before sitting up and touching his face, already warm with a bruise forming.

“Well. Shit.” Was all Hank said.

“Are you okay?” Deimos asked, Sanford sitting in between them. Hank nodded. It wasn’t the worst he had been through before.

“…Okay, well- I think we all got our revenge?” Sanford said.

With Hank’s new lack of goggles, it was a little easier to see he was, indeed, looking at the other two and thinking. He looked at Sanford with dull eyes and looked like he wanted to say something before standing up. “Sure.” He said, offering a hand to the other two men.

They both stood up, Deimos still giggling slightly. Sanford hit his shoulder lightly. “You liar…” He grinned as Hank picked up his goggles in the background.

[pl-panda]

The vines that bind us - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 || Previous || NEXT

“Yes.” Riddler seethed. “And I really don’t like it when someone uses mine in their ridiculous stories. Now, which of you can tell me where I can find Lila Rossi?”

Some cruel part of Mari wanted to laugh. Leave it to Lila’s lies to get the attention of one of the Rogues of Gotham. And Riddler of all people. That guy had an ego the size of Amusement Mile. He would definitely not take kindly to anyone telling tales about outsmarting him. 

The kinder part, which was domineering, worried about her classmates. Edward Nygma was an unpredictable sociopath. Her mother always warned her against him. Gotham underworld could’ve been separated into three categories: Criminals, Goal-oriented, and Madmen. The first ones were usually greedy mobsters and thieves, such as Catwoman, uncle Floyd or Penguin. They were in it for profit or thrill and could easily be reasoned with. Poison Ivy often dealt with criminals when she needed something. The second category were those who had a goal and would stop at nothing to achieve it. Marigold’s mother was one of them, as were uncles Slade and Doctor Fries. The last category contained the worst part of Gotham’s underworld like Joker, Scarecrow, or Riddler, who cared only about carnage and chaos. She was always warned to stay away from them because they had no respect for anyone or anything and she would run at the risk of great harm. 

Riddler ordered his people to spread through the room. Mari counted at least two dozen. It was bad. The employees were gathered into smaller groups guarded by three mooks. The guns were ready to fire. She really wished there was at least some flower in a glass. She could feel Tikki shifting under her suit. One look at Adrien told her Plagg was similar. The kwamis were worried for their holders. Chloe was the only one calm. She sat there with crossed legs and did her nails. Her steel nerves were incredible. Or would be if it did not attract Riddler.

“You!” He pointed his cane at the blonde. “Riddle me this. What happens to a small stone when it works ups some courage?”

“Wait. You’re speaking to me?” The girl asked. Riddler was a little baffled, but the cane was still pointing right at her. “Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous!” Chloe stared at the criminal. “If you think I have time to play some stupid trivia game… I mean seriously? Stones are dead. They can’t have courage.”

Mari facepalmed loudly. Leave it to Chloe to try and antagonize a madman with a gun pointed at her. 

“Tsk tsk tsk. Wrong answer.” Riddler tried to press some button on the grip, but there was only dull sound. “What in the world?”

“Wait! I… I know where to find Lila Rossi!” Mari shouted, hoping to get Riddler’s attention away from Chloe before he managed to repair the gun. The class started to give her murderous glares. Adrien looked at her curiously.

“Oh! Do tell!” The criminal turned to her. When he hit the cane into the ground there was a loud sound of a gunshot that made everyone jump. The ground was now smoking. “Useless junk!”

“She is still in her office! I can lead you to her if you let my friends go.” 

“Ha! Do you think me a fool? As if…”

“A little boulder.” Mari interrupted him. 

“Oh. So you are smart. What about this: The person who makes it has no need of it; the person who buys it has no use for it. The person who uses it can neither see nor feel it. What is it?”

“A coffin,” Mari said with a bit of hesitation sneaking into her voice. Why in the world was she trying to save Lila again?

“Good.” Riddler looked at her for a moment. “Fine. I will go with you. But if you try to deceive me…”

“Coffin?” Mari asked with a smile. Riddler frowned so she quickly returned to the scared expression. 

The villain motioned for eight of his men to follow him and led Mari to the elevator. She was constantly at the gunpoint. Mari had to think quickly. She could try to lose them at the one fo the office levels or… she knew for certain where to find two living plants in the building. With a shaking hand, she pressed the top button. When Nygma gave her a raised eyebrow she shrugged.

“You must’ve heard about her dating youngest Mr. Wayne.” Mari lied swiftly. 

“There was something about it on that cursed blog.” He mumbled. 

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

Slowly, the machine went up. The tensions were high and Mari for a moment wondered if revealing her heritage would be enough to scare them. Ultimately, she decided to keep it as an additional shock when they got to the office. She really hoped Mr. Drake would be kind enough to hide under his bulletproof desk and not fire her when he learned who her mother was. Oh well, it’s not like she needed that job too much. 

The elevator paused one level below their destination, but the doors did not open and it refused to go higher. Her tablet started to beep. With all the stress, she forgot she had it on her the whole time.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Slowly, she opened the tablet. An icon was blinking at her. When she pressed it, a video of them in the elevator popped up. 

A large number of people without authorization in the elevator. Do you approve? Yes No

She pressed yes and the elevator started moving. She should really get some manuals for this thing. When the doors opened, she looked around. It was time for the show. She strode to the doors leading to Mr. Drake’s office. The Riddler and his mooks followed her. She pushed the doors open and immediately screamed.

“Get down!”

Rolling to the side, she pushed her powers to the limit, allowing the plants to seep her energy and grow. Vines shot from the pots and quickly grabbed the guns. Riddler, seething with anger, aimed his cane, but another vine grabbed it and ripped it out of his hand. The three strongest henchmen managed to hold onto their guns and started firing, but Mari was already safe behind the bulletproof desk. Good thing it was mentioned in the notes she inherited from Sarah.

She heard a loud cracking sound and felt that one of the plants just lost their pot. She silently promised it a more comfortable one and thanked for the sacrifice. Her green skin was now in full view. Accidentally, she pressed something on the tablet and now it showed the image from the lobby. She could see that the remaining henchmen were firing at something outside. The muzzles of their guns were flashing. Angry, Mari grabbed one of the drawers and ripped it from the desk. She leaned out from behind her cover and tossed it with full force. The projectile sailed through the air spinning before hitting the middle henchman in the center of his face. He fell down firing the gun all around the place. She could definitely hear something fragile breaking. Oh well. As long as she’s not the one paying…

The vines knocked out all but one henchman who was slowly backing away toward the elevator while firing at whatever plant got close. Riddler was now hanging by his ankles and wildly flailing his hands. The video of the elevator showed he was now there and resting. He thought her friends wouldn’t reach him. How cute!

Mari walked away from her cover and slowly approached the elevator. She heard the fashion disaster grasp when he saw her in her true form, but paid him no mind for now. She only had the vines gag him. The girl pulled the ninjato from its hiding place and smiled. When she pressed the elevator button, the criminal aimed his gun at her. She quickly leaned to the side while hitting the rifle with the palm of her hand. At the same time, she stabbed him in the leg with the sword. While he was screaming in pain she could easily rip the gun from him and then hit him with it, knocking him out. 

The bluenette looked at the gun with disgust. Clenching her hand, she crushed the barrel before dropping it on the floor and approaching Riddler. The plants turned him around and restrained his arms.

“You! You tricked me!” He shouted as soon as his mouth was uncovered.

“Yes.” Marigold smiled sweetly. “Is that a problem?”

“You… Oh no no no! That won’t do! I can stand being outsmarted by Batman. I will not be defeated by some schoolgirl with feeble meta-powers playing Poison-Iy look-alike. For a moment I thought you were her.”

“Look-alike?” the girl asked. “I don’t look that… Just because I have green skin I’m suddenly Poison Ivy look-alike?” She shouted at riddler.

“The hair is wrong, but otherwise your face is very similar.”

“What?” Not believing him, Mari walked over to where she left her tablet and looked. True, her face changed a bit. She still had some of her qualities that easily marked her as Marinette, but her face was no longer that round, instead taking a more oval shape. Her nose was now smaller and lips fuller. She really looked more similar to her mother. And yeah, the green skin made it obvious.

“You’re done preening yourself?” 

“Sure. Now let’s go back to the fact you attacked my friends and made my first day at work even worse!” Her steel gaze rested on Riddler, who felt very uneasy. The vines squeezed his wrists and ankles a bit.

Gulp! “On second thought, I have nothing against preening. The look is important after all…”

“Said the guy with Hawaiian shirt under a suit.” Mari deadpanned. “I don’t have time for this.” She asked one of the vines to smack him in his head, swiftly knocking the supervillain out. With that out of the way, she walked over to the plants and thanked each of them individually. She gently picked the one with a smashed pot and placed it with the other one. 

“Now can you behave for one night? I promise I will get both of you better pots tomorrow.” Mari giggled when both of them hugged her with their leaves. Tikki floated out of her pocket. 

“Marigold! I was so worried! They were armed and you were not Ladybug! There would be no cure if something happened!” 

“Don’t worry Tikki. I had a plan. Mostly…” She looked around the devastated office and her equally devastated workplace. 

“But now your boss will know your secret!” 

“You know what?” Mari smiled. “I don’t care. I’m Marigold Isley and this is Gotham, not Paris.”

“But the word will get out!”

“It will anyway since I’m going to search for my mother Tikki.” The girl tried to calm the frantic mini-goddess.

“Fine.” Bug-like spirit huffed before zipping around the room, passing through the head of each and every henchman, ending her trip with Riddler. “There! They will remember how you took them all down with some martial arts.” 

“You’re the best Tikki!” Mari hugged her Kwami to her cheek. The mini-god nuzzled affectionately. 

Marigold willed the green to disappear from her skin and have the hair return to normal. Eyes were always the hardest, but she got the green under some control. Quickly checking the video feed from the lobby, she saw that there was no more firing, but Police did not yet enter. They must’ve been waiting for the bat. 

Looking around, she finally realized that her boss was nowhere to be seen. Strange. She could’ve sworn he was still in his office when she left. While possible that he left shortly after, he would’ve been in the lobby and he wasn’t. The other option was that he went straight to the garage, which was possible. After all, the CEO ought to have some luxurious car. Yeah, that’s probably right. 

She pulled her phone and typed 911. Time to get some professional help. 

“Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m on the top floor of Wayne Enterprises with a knocked out Riddler and some of his men. If you could please connect me to whoever is leading the negotiations?”

“Madame, this is not a joking matter.” The voice in her phone scolded her.

“Do you believe I’m joking? I’m standing here with a bloodied ninjato and eight men unconscious men plus Edward Nygma who decided to become a fashion disaster since I’ve last seen him.” Marigold answered in a harsher tone. “Today I had one of the most stressful days of my life. First, instead of being an intern I suddenly got hired as a Personal Assistant, then I had to explain to Lex freaking Luthor that I’m not a doormat. If that was not enough, I’m stuck in this job for six! Months! Add to that, because of some mistake in communication Damian Wayne decided to attack me with ninjato. After that Security was really unhelpful. I finish my first day of work only to have Riddler parade into the building just as we were to leave. And I had to improvise because he was about to shoot my friend who, while I love her, needs to learn to shut her mouth sometimes!” Mari shouted, putting all of her frustration and withheld anger into it.

“I’m sorry madame. I will check what I can…”

“You can connect me to whoever leads the police downstairs or I can toss them Riddler from the top of Wayne Tower.” Mari was honestly done. She would do it. Chloe said it herself that it was a tall building. 

“Listen here you little…” Whoever she was speaking to was suddenly cut off and she heard a different voice.

“Gordon here. Who’s that.”

“Are you the police officer in charge down there?”

“What you mean down there? I thought we managed to evacuate everyone from the upper floors!”

“Oh. Good. I was worried about how many people he actually held hostage. I’m on the top floor with a knocked out riddler and some of his men. I don’t exactly have anything to tie them up with…”

“How exactly did you end up up there!” The man asked. “Is batman with you?”

“He was about to shoot one of my friends so I lied to him and got him to follow me to the elevator. I used a moment when he was distracted to take him out.”

“Madame. I really hope it’s not some joke.”

“I…” She wanted to speak, but there was some static on the other side of the line

“Miss Dupain-Cheng. This is Batman.” For a moment she was unsure how to answer. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“I need you to try and tie the men you got up there. They will probably regain consciousness soon. Do you have zip-ties or at duct tape in your office?”

“Not that I’m aware. It’s my first day. Oh! I can use their jackets!”

“Do that. Riddler’s men downstairs are unaware of what happened with you. If they get wind of their boss being defeated, we don’t know what will happen.”

“Rodger that.” She proceeded to tie them up until Riddler was the one now having his hands bound by the suit he wore. His were tied with really strong vines. She would not risk anything. “Batman? are you there?” Mari asked to her phone. 

“Yes.” Came after a moment. “Are all of them tied?”

“Yes. I used the destroyed plant for Riddler. I thought we could benefit from him still wearing his suit somehow.”

“I sent Robin your way, Miss. He will be coming through the vents. Please try not to attack him on sight.” Batman said in a tired voice. She suspected there was a story behind it, but she was too tired to care. Awkwardly, she took a seat in her chair, which now had several bullet holes but was still mostly comfortable. The waiting was killing her. She was all alone in a room full of downed henchmen.

“Um… So how is your day Batman?” She asked, wanting to break the silence. 

“...” There was no answer at first. “It was mostly fine until Nygma showed up.” More silence. “I heard from Nightwing that he would have a hilarious story to tell once he got home. I’m not sure if I should already be worried or not.”

A smile forced its way onto Marigold’s face. She suddenly thought about Batman sitting in the middle of a room with the other members of Batfam running around playing tag. She did it once with Allegra and Claude when their parents had their get-togethers. 

A sound in the vent broke her out of reminiscing. She added two more names to the list of people she would have to track now that she was in Gotham. She picked the sword and slowly walked toward the vent. Batman warned her that Robin was coming, but one couldn’t be too cautious. 

A boy close to her age appeared. He was wearing a horrendous traffic light suit. At least his cloak was black on the outside and had a hood. The outfit first Robin wore was an even bigger disaster, so there was some progress. Maybe in ten Robins, she would actually be able to not be embarrassed to be seen in their presence. 

“Miss. Please don’t point the ninjato at me.” He asked when he stood up. 

“Sure. I didn’t want to get any surprises. What now?”

“Police is monitoring the situation downstairs. They wanted to enter with full force, but with so many hostages we’re afraid about casualties.” Robin spoke in a very formal tone. Too formal for her liking.

“I have the monitoring on my tablet.” She walked to the desk and showed him the feed. “I count fourteen hostiles. They are in six groups with two to three guns each.”

“I don’t need a lesson in tactics.” The vigilante got angry.

“And about motive? One of the interns posted a video about another intern helping you guys take Riddler down. He really didn’t like it. I’m plenty certain he came to kill her in a very dramatic way.”

“That… complicates things.” Came Batman’s voice. She forgot he was still on the line.

“Miss. Do you know who is the intern he is after?” The police officer asked.

“Lila Rossi. She is one of my classmates. She is the one that is now surrounded by a crowd of young people comforting her while she is crying crocodile tears.” Mari showed her at the screen to robin. “I got Riddler to come up here under the pretense of leading him to her. The floor would be mostly empty and my boss has a bulletproof desk.”

“Tt. And what exactly was that supposed to achieve?” Robin stared at her.

“Gee! I don’t know. Maybe he would no longer be pointing his gun at my best friend!?” She looked at him. “Not everyone carries Kevlar to work.”

“Robin!” Batman reprimanded him. 

“Fine.”

“We can’t give him what he wants, especially after you took him down, Miss,” Gordon spoke. “To be frank, I don’t see it ending any other way than a full-frontal assault. We have snipers in position and SWAT ready. They are only waiting for a green light.” A deep sigh made its way through the line. “I only regret how many lives it will put on the line.”

“What if we got some of them out?” An idea formed in Mari’s head.

“I don’t see it happening unless Riddler gives the command directly,” Gordon said in a solemn voice.

“Leave it to me.” Marigold was determined to save as many people as she could. She was so decking Lila for this situation.

The small girl stormed toward Riddler. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

“What… You! You tricked me!”

“Yeah. Get used to it.” She picked her tablet and started recording. “You will give the command to your people to let half of the hostages go.”

“Riddle me…” Before he could finish, Marigold grabbed him by the laps of his jacket and dragged him toward the large window in Mr. Drake’s office. She dropped the criminal, picked the drawer, and smashed it into the window several times. There wasn’t even a scratch on the glass, but the drawer was now chipped in several places. She looked at it and shrugged.

“I’m out of patience today. You can either give the command or I will open the window with your face.”

“Miss! I can’t let…” Robin tried to intervene, but she pointed the drawer at him. 

“Shut up. I want this day to end.”

Since Riddler was still silent, she picked him by the scruff and was about to smash him. “Fine! Fine! Fine!” He shouted. “Bring me the walkie-talkie.” He pointed at one lying close.

“Do I look like an idiot to you? Record the message here.” 

“As you want.” He leaned closer to the tablet (or as close as she was willing to let him). “Let go of half the hostages.”

Mari stared at him unamused. She dropped him on the ground and walked to where the sword was dropped. After picking it she returned to where the villain was desperately trying to crawl away.

“Miss! Please cease it at once. We do not torture criminals!”

“No. You just pat them on their back and let them go.” She deadpanned and turned to Riddler.

“Really? Oh wow. That’s just cold.” She heard from the phone. A new voice joined Batman and Gordon.

“Wait!” Riddler squeaked. “Let go the number of hostages that would be half of seventy-five if half of five was three!” He shouted very loudly.

Mari nodded and handed the tablet to Robin. He already held a walkie-talkie. After he played the message, there was some ruffle on the other side, but Mari was too tired to care. The girl grabbed her tablet from Robin and opened the feed from the lobby. She saw some confused henchmen before one of them shrugged and started pushing people outside. When Marigold noted that Adrien and Chloe were among those who left the building she let the air out. Only then she realized that she was holding her breath.

“It worked! We got thirty-three out. That’s over half of them.” Gordon shouted ecstatic. “You are a hero miss! Branden! You’ve got your green light!” 

The girl had enough. She hanged up and pocketed her phone. Still holding the sword, she walked into the elevator. Mari didn’t press any buttons, but she leaned over the wall and started whistling a lullaby her mother used to sing her when she had a nightmare.

The memory of a soothing voice that carried her to sleep many times allowed her nerves to settle. She could feel adrenaline slowly leaving her body. The tension left her muscles one by one and she slowly slid to the ground. 

“Tt. It’s safe to go down.” Robin startled her. She immediately jumped and pointed the sword at him. The boy was clearly unamused by being threatened with a ninjato… again. Mari lowered her weapon and pressed the button that would take them to the lobby. 

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

When the doors opened, Mari was quickly tackled by a missile that was a worried Chloe Bourgeoise. “Mari! What were you thinking!?”

“I don’t know… Maybe that you were about to get shot?”

“Oh… right…” That shut Chloe up easily enough. 

“Excuse me, Miss Marinette?” An older man in a brown trench coat asked. He had a neatly cut beard and graying hair. “Commissioner Gordon. We spoke on the phone.” He extended a hand

“Ah. Yes. Thank you for trusting me.” Mari nodded and took the offered handshake.

“If not for you, casualties would definitely be higher.”

“Higher…” Mari repeated weakly.

“Oh! Um… Yes. I’m sorry, Miss. Some of our men got shot in the gunfight.”

“Will…” 

“There are also… Damn.” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“How many?” She could feel her eyes tearing.

“Three civilians and four security guards...”

“Seven…” She gave a barely audible whisper.

“I know this must be hard, but…”

Marigold was no longer listening. She left the building and walked to where the class was gathered.

“I’m telling you! She must be working with that madman. You’ve seen how quickly he trusted her!” Lila was talking loudly.

“Rossi.” The girl said in an emotionless voice. Kim and Ivan wanted to stand in her way like usual, but she pushed through them without breaking a sweat. 

“Didn’t you cause enough drama…” Lila never got a chance to end that sentence, because Mari delivered a straight one strong enough to send her flying several feet back before she came crashing down. Blood pouring from her nose.

-----

NEXT

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 2

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Point? Plot? never heard of it! have some fluff instead!

First > Next

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First class was called for boarding, leaving the twins behind to wait for economy boarding. They could afford first class, but didn’t want to make a scene with the rest of the class. They are distracted from the window when Lila joins the first class line. When she reaches the desk the twins can’t hear her talking but can see her crocodile tears as she likely spins a tale of woe. There is a sense of satisfaction between them as after some back and forth Lila is sent away in a huff. She goes back to the class and starts complaining, causing them to miss the call for domestic boarding.

“Let’s go,” Marion shrugs his backpack on and they went to board before the rest of the class. He wasn't about to let Lila somehow steal their seats.

As they board the plane they walk past their friends in first class, some seats around them still having people late to board. With a wave they continue on reaching their seats and storing their backpacks under the seats.

“Marion, make sure your devices are in flight mode,” Marinette commands, as she pulls out her tablet.

“Sure thing,” Marion pulls out his laptop, making sure both that and his phone were on flight mode. Marinette double checking.

“It’s just not fair,” They hear Lila whine as she walks past them to her seat.

“I know girl, I know,” Alya is following, patting her back.

Marinette ignores them and pulls out the safety manual, studying the two pages with the same intensity she does as Ladybug. Marion turned to the built in seat screen and browsed through the movies. Marinette was likely the only one on the plane who paid attention during the safety demonstration. When the plane started moving Marinette grabbed onto Marion's hand. It was fine until the plane started to speed up, the grip getting tighter. When the plane lifted off Marion's hand was almost crushed with no magic ladybugs to save it.

“You know for a bug-”

“Nope, na-ah, not now,” Marinette grits through her teeth. Marion sighs and resigns to his hand being crushed.

Fine they had been in a bubble hundreds of meters above Paris looking straight down, but apparently that was nothing compared to a plane. When the seatbelt sign turned on Marion could swear in less than a minute Chloe magically appeared.

“Come on, there's spare seats near us, the people were a no show,” Chloe said, hands on hips.

“I don’t know Chloe, is that even allowed?” Marion asks, trying to pry his hand free.

“I’ll be fine,” Chloe waves him off, not answering the question. She looks at Marinette. “I’ll start jumping,”

“Let’s go!” She releases Marion’s hand and grabs her backpack. Marion shakes out his hand to get the blood flow back, then inspects the marked skin. He follows after them moving his fingers cautiously.

“Marion, your bag,” Chloe sighed, sending him running back to get it.

When Marion caught up they were already seated. Marinette, Kagami and Chloe were in a row of three by the window, while Adrien sat at the row in front. Marion climbed awkwardly over the person sitting at the aisle to reach the spare seat.

Adrien says a quick hello, not looking away from the window.

“It’s normal to be nervous on your first flight,” Kagami assures Marinette, not knowing wasn't her first flight. “Just breath, where would you prefer to sit?”

“Maybe somewhere out of reach of my hand,” Chloe speaks up, cradling her hand.

“It’s ok Marinette, I don’t really like planes either,” Adrien confesses, giving a weak smile over the seat.

“Well there we go you two should sit together,” Chloe dictates, “Come on Marion, up you get, you too Marinette,”

Chloe herds them out of their seats. Marion sheepishly apologises to the aisle person as they climb over them again. Marion sits at the Aisle now with Chloe at the window and Kagami in the middle. Marion peaks over the seats to see the two blushing messes. Marinette holding Adrien's hand, surely for no other reason than fear. It was effective either way as both seemed completely distracted by each other.

“Nice move,” Marion whispers to Chloe as he sits back down.

“I know, and as such I get to choose the movie,” Looking at the disposable headphones with disdain.

“We have our own screens,” Kagami points out.

“Then we’ll just have to start at the same time,” Chloe huffs, plugging the headphones in.

After a painful twenty minutes Chloe eventually settles on some romantic comedy Kagami and Marion had never seen which was ‘ridiculous’ and ‘unacceptable’.

“On my count, go,” Chloe presses play followed by Marion.

“That's not a count,” Kagami argues, the movie not playing.

“Of course it is,”

“You didn’t count,”

“That’s true,” Marion's screen lagging slightly behind Chloe.

“Fine,” Chloe rewinds back to the start, “One, two-”

“Wait I’m not ready!” Marion exclaims, struggling to rewind his. “Ok, now,”

“One, two, three” Chloe presses play, Kagami having pressed it a second before.

“Why?” Chloe hisses, as the screens play out of sync.

“You didn’t specify on or after three,” Kagami explains.

“After three!”

“How was I supposed to know?”

“Ugh, fine let's do it again, One, two-”

“Maybe we should do, ready, set go,” Marion interrupts, a grin on his face.

“No!” Chloe screeches.

“I think I should count,” Kagami interjects, straight faced. Marion isn't sure if she's serious or helping him mess with Chloe or not.

“No! I’m doing it and I’ll be counting,” Chloe seethes.

“Ok, ok,” Marion rewinds his screen,

“One, two-”

“So on or after three?”

“Ahhhhhh!”

After getting bored(being scared for his life) Marion finally lets them start the movie. That doesn't mean he’s done messing with Chloe, as he decides the comedy isn't comedic enough and has to make jokes throughout. Has to it is not his choice, the black cat beckons.

“Why would she not tell him that in the first place,” Kagami inquires.

“I don’t know, she just didn’t,” Chloe grumbles, keeping her eyes glued to the screen.

“It would have avoided a lot of problems,” Kagami decides.

“Well if you wanted needlessly complicated romance we’ve got front seats to the best one this century,” Marion smiles, adding, “And I’m not talking about the movie,”

At that they all stand to peek over seats at the two love birds leaning against each other asleep. Chloe snaps a photo leaning right over them to get the best angle. They all photobomb the background.

“We need to make a collage of all the times this has happened over the years,” Chloe sighs, showing them the photo.

“The piece of resistance will be them in their wedding outfits, sleeping after the reception,” Marion looks down at his phone to see Chloe had somehow sent him the picture, despite him looking at her phone the whole time, “Witchcraft,”

“They would, wouldn't they?” Chloe shakes her head.

“If they ever start dating,” Kagami mutters, also looking down to see Chloe had sent her the picture as well.

“Kags, the only ones that don’t know their dating is them,” Marion assures.

“Shush, this is the good part,” Chloe waves her hand at them, staring at the screen.

“It has a good part?” Marion asks, having to dodge the purse thrown at him.

They were halfway through the movie when Madame Bustier approached them, followed by Lila.

“Marion, what are you and Marinette doing up here?” She demands.

“The seats were spare so I told them too,” Chloe stops Marion before he can apologise.

“That doesn't mean you’re allowed to take them, you should have offered them to another student like Lila,” Madame Bustier reprimands, gesturing to Lila.

“If they can’t be here then neither can she,” Kagami grabs Lila’s wrist before she can shake Marinette awake.

“B-but my tinnitus!” Liela cries, Marion has to grab Kagami's other hand before she can place it over Lila’s mouth.

“Won’t be affected by where on the plane you sit,” Chloe glares.

“What do you know?” Lila sniffs, trying to shake Kagami's grip.

“Surprisingly, I actually researched it, unlike you,” Chloe spits out.

“How dare-”

“Excuse me,” A flight attendant approaches them, “is everything ok here?”

“No,” Liela turns on her crocodile tears pointing at the twins with her free hand. “These two are meant to be in economy, and I was told there were no spare seats in first class, they must of stolen someones seat!”

“Ridiculous,” Chloe huffs.

“Sir could I please see your ticket?” The flight attendant asks Marion. Marion freezes and stutters to explain, Lila looking smug.

“Right here,” Chloe fishes two boarding passes out of her purse and hands them over. The flight attendant inspects them, Marion giving them his passport before they ask.

“My apologies,” They tell Marion, handing back the passport and boarding pass, turning to Lila. “Miss these are their seats, I have to ask you to return to yours,”

“What!” Lila screeches.

“Miss I have to ask you to please be quiet, there are passengers sleeping,” The flight attendant is sterner now. Madame Bustier guides a complaining Liela away.

“Sorry for the confusion,” The flight attendant tells them.

“It’s fine,” Chloe has a vindictive smile on her face as she watches Lila storm off. When she turns around she sees Marion is smirking. “What?”

“You just happened to have two extra boarding passes, huh?”

“Of course, I wanted to have a row to myself, but you two looked so pouty when I left that I decided to give them to you,”

“Right, and they just happen to have our names on them?” Marion prodded, holding them out as proof.

“Uh, yeah? I couldn’t check in three times, I had to use your name,” Chloe snatches the boarding passes away.

“How did you even get our information to do that?” Marion asks, now genuinely confused.

“Anything is possible with money,”

“Foreboding… but true,” Marion considers, “Hey Chlo?”

“What?”

“Thanks,” Marion gives her the biggest smile possible.

“Whatever, you can thank me by letting me choose the next movie as well,” Chloe turns back to the screen.

“I’m not that grateful,” He has to doge her purse again.

Food comes part way through their second movie, that they let Chloe choose anyway. They gently shake Marinette and Adrien awake. Adrien groans at the thought of more food, but is too polite to turn it away.

“What is this slop?” Chloe asks, poking her fork at it like it might attack her.

“It's worse in economy,” Marion points out, eating his with only a small grimace.

“How is that meant to make me feel better?” Chloe sneeres.

“Because Lila and Sabrina are eating it now,” Marion smirks evilly, Chloe mirroring him.

“I’m still not eating it,” Chloe turns her nose up.

“You can have this,” Kagami hands over a container of assorted sushi. “I brought it, but it’s nothing compared to the sushi in Japan,”

“Thanks,” Chloe actually smiles, but would never admit to the slight blush dusting her cheeks. “Here Mari you can have this,” Chloe passes him the tray.

“Thanks Chlo, but I don’t like it either,” Marion pushes it back. Frustrating Kagami with all the reaching over her.

“At least take the cheese, I know you like that,” Chloe drops it on his tray.

“Wha- oh yeah, thanks,” Marion remembers Plagg, so he can't hand it back(not at all because he’s afraid of what Kagami will do if someone reaches across her again).

“You can have mine as well,” Kagami places the matching cheese neatly on top of Chloe’s.

“Do you want mine too?” Adrien asks reaching over the seat to hand it to him. “I don’t really like cheese,”

“Oh… thank you,” Marion says awkwardly, taking it.

“Here you can have mine as well,” Marinette reaches out, grinning over the seat. Marion glares at her, taking the cheese. She sticks out her tongue and sits back down.

When no one is looking Marion sneaks the cheese into his bag. He tries not to yelp as a few seconds later Plagg bites him. Marion excuses himself to the bathroom, taking his satchel.

“Plagg, what gives?” Marion asks, opening up his bag.

“What gives? you expect me to eat that trash? While Kaalki and Tikki eat a mountain of chocolate, are you so crule?” Plagg sticks his ‘nose’ up.

“It’s cheese,” Marion argues, picking up a piece.

“That is an insult to all of cheese,” Plagg points at the offending block.

“Too bad, it’s because of you everyone thinks I’m obsessed with cheese, so take some responsibility,”

“Never!”

“If you don’t eat it, I’m going to throw it out, so what's worse? Bad cheese, or wasted cheese?” Marion asks.

“Hmmmm…. Uhhhhhhh……. Ahhhhhh,” The Kwami looks like he’s in actual pain having to decide this, “.......... Fine!”

He stuffs the block into his mouth.

“Plagg you have to unwrap it first,” Plagg spends the rest of dinner pouting, as Tikki happily chomps on her Toblerone blocks with Kaalki.

After eating Marinette and Adrien decide to also try watching a movie together. They somehow take even longer to get it set up. Considering they can hardly use a full sentence around each other. Kagami eventually gets frustrated enough that she leans over and presses play for them. Marion, Chloe and Kagami finish watching their movie and decide to sleep the rest of the flight away. Chloe brings out her neck pillow and sleeping mask, seat reclined as far as it can go. Marion takes off the horse miraculous placing it carefully in the glasses case and then in his satchel. When he sits back up Chloe and Kagami are leaning against each other, apparently soundly asleep. Marion pretends he doesn't see both peeking at each other.

“Ah, to be the fifth wheel is a mighty achievement,” Marion whispers to himself, trying to disappear into his neck pillow.

Marion blearily wakes up to Kagami, Chloe and Adrien whispering. Marinette had fallen asleep again and was leaning against a blushing Adrien’s shoulder. He pretends he doesn't see this, reaching into his bag to grab the horse miraculous. He checks the flight path to see they only have two hours to go. Stretching as much as possible he chats with the others until Marinette wakes up over an hour later. They start talking about what they’ll do in Gotham, their excitement rising.

“There's an Akuma attack,” Chloe says looking down at her phone.

“What? how do you know?” Marinette shares a glance with Marion.

“Just got an alert,” Chloe gestures to her phone.

“It’s not in flight mode!” Marinette hisses.

“Of course not I-”

“Chloe put it in flight mode right now,” Marinette reprimands, as she climbs out of her seat with her bag, “I’m going to the bathroom,”

“... I’d better go check on her,” Marion declares, as Chloe turns her phone to flight mode, muttering that nothing happened.

He knocks on the bathroom door Marinette is in and is pulled in by Ladybug.

“Lets go, come on,” She says, bouncing in place.

“Plagg, Kaalki, Combine!” With a flash of light Marion is transformed, and with another they are off to Paris.

They have to be back in their seats for the descent that should be starting any minute now so they transport to the Akuma. Hoping they just run into Monsieur Rat. Instead they find a new Akuma, frustrating now having to find the akumatized object. They seemed to be a plant based, judging by the forest growing out of the sidewalk. Marion drops his transformation with the horse Miraculous, leaving regular Chat Noir. He passes a sugar cube to Kaalki telling the Kwami to stay put.

Ladybug charges in without him, trying to wrap her yo-yo around the Akumas tree like body. The Akuma breaks off the branches to get free, growing them back immediately. It sends out vines like whips, that the two dodge getting forced back. As Marion is forced back he trips over some moving roots getting sent sprawling back.

"Chat Noir," He hears a scared whisper to the side. Looking he sees a hand sticking out from under the roots and an eye peeking out from underneath.

"Don't worry," He gently takes the civilians hand, small enough to be a Childs, "me and Ladybug will save you,"

"Don't you mean Ladybug and I?"

"Never mind you can stay here," Chat teases, sticking his tongue out making the kid giggle.

He feels something wind around his leg. Looking down to see roots start to encircle it.

"Uh, Ladybug!" He tries to pull his legs free. Ladybug drops down next to him, helping him get free. He gives the kids hand one last squeeze before jumping to a roof with Ladybug.

"The civilians are trapped under the roots," Chat Noir reports.

"Inside as well," Marion looks out to see buildings cocooned in roots. "I freed some civilians, the Akuma went after them, you need to find it,"

Chat Noir nodded extending his baton to survey the surrounding area. He spots the Akuma from above, using his enhanced vision to study it.

"Chat!"

He looks down to see roots winding up his baton. He jumps off the top and is caught by Ladybug, as she swings them away. Marion looks back at his Baton to see roots circled around it like a tall tree without branches.

"Won't be using that for awhile," He muses, "Piggy back ride?"

"Yeah right," Ladybug snorts, "Wheres the Akuma?"

"That way," He points, "I noticed a poster hanging from one of the trees branches, it must be the akumatised object,"

"Alright lets go!" Ladybug drops down on a roof where the Akuma can't see them.

“Just stay calm, rushing isn’t going to help us here,” Chat Noir grabs her wrist pulling her back.

“You’re right Chat,” Ladybug takes a breath, “But that doesn't mean we can’t get a helping hand, lucky charm!”

"A ribbon? I think weed killer would have been more useful,"

"Very funny, I need you to tie this around the branch with the poster," Ladybug hands it to him.

"Got it,"

Marion jumps off the roof onto the trees branches. It screeches trying to grab him. Chat Noir summons his cataclysm destroying the branches that reach for him. While the tree is distracted severing the decaying branches Chat drops down to the branch with the poster, tying it around. The tree severs the branch as well, dropping it right into Ladybugs waiting arms. The trees branches wrap around Chat, giving Ladybug time to destroy the poster and purify the Akuma. Chat Noir is freed by the ladybugs, placing him back on the ground and returning his staff.

"Pound it,"

Kaalki comes out of hiding, Marion transforms before the press can delay them. He opens a portal right back into the stall. Detransforming and rushing back to their seats.

“Are you ok?” Kagami asked, as they buckle their seat belts.

“I will be once I get off this plane,” Marinette answers, Adrien offers his hand.

When they land they get to be the first ones off. They wait for the class. Madame Bustier does a headcount before they go through border security as a class, before moving on to pick up their bags. Alix and Kim ram their trolleys together as they wait for their bags to arrive. Madame Busier looked tired she didn't even try to stop them.

Chloe had to have her own trolley for her five bags, the rest managing to carry a single bag. The class headed for security separately. Marinette and Marion were stopped for a bag search because of a ‘concerned anonymous tip’ that they were bringing food in. No one else saw them get taken aside. The twins were thankful they left their vigilante costumes at home to be picked up later.

“And what's this?” The security guard asks, holding the polka dotted Miracle box.

“A jewellery box,” Marinette opens it up showing the miraculous. “Its a birthday present for our aunt who lives here,”

The guard nodded, not finding anything wrong. They sent them on their way, the rest of the class had made it through already. The twins walked outside, trying to spot their classmates or the bus.

‘Where are you?’ He texted Chloe

‘On the bus, you said you had another ride?’

‘No?!’

[redstainedsocks]

Internal Affairs, Liars and Lairs

I’ve been staring at this for too long and I have no idea if it makes sense anymore but I’m done, I’m just posting it, and if it’s not clear where Zach’s head is at or what’s going on my ask box is open for questions and I’ll explain my worldbuilding there xD

Warnings: mentions of past torture, vaguely referenced past noncon, talk of human trafficking, trauma responses, dis-association, medical drug use, incorrect use of pain relief, aftermath of whump, traumatic memories, talk of being buried alive, messed up head space, thoughts of wanting to be back with whumper and carrying out whumper’s wishes (please let me know if I missed anything!)

[Previous]

The debriefing room was comically like an interrogation room. One wide table, low lighting, recording devices. Zach hovered in the doorway, uneasy. He bit the inside of his lip, worrying at a half-healed abrasion until he tasted blood. Could he keep secrets in here? Would he be capable?

“It’s sound proofed,” Jordan said, coming up behind him and interrupting his thoughts. “It’s the only reason we’re using it. So no-one that you don’t want to overhear can listen in. Whatever you say in here stays between whoever you feel comfortable knowing things.”

Zach looked over his shoulder at Jordan. “Not going to hound me for details like a bad cop, then? Make me sit here until I sweat it all out?” He was trying for light hearted but it fell flat, his voice cracked with nerves.

“No, Zach. There are some things we need to know, but only in your own time. No-one is going to force anything. This is to help you, as much as it is to help us.”

That would be a novelty, Zach thought. When was the last time anything had been done with his own well-being in mind?

He slunk into the room, sticking to the wall, wondering which chair was to be his. There were two on each side of the table. Bryson and Jordan sat on one side, Lacey came in and sat on the other and gestured for Zach to join them. So, this is who it was going to be?

“We’ll start small for now, Zach. Anytime you need a break, just say the word, we’ll stop, no questions asked. All right?”

Zach nodded, looking at his hands. He wanted to pick at his fingernails, comb hands through his hair, jiggle his leg, but with all eyes on him he was tense and still, no outlet for the energy running through his veins, the anxiety making his heart beat faster.

“Lacey is just here to collect some data, Jordan will help make sure your health is taken care of. I’m here because I’ve known you the longest. Are you comfortable with all that?”

Zach glanced up at his old mentor, frowned in confusion. “Does it matter?”

Bryson reared back in surprise, eyebrows raised. “Of course, yes. We want to debrief you not interrogate you. You should be comfortable, anything you say here will not be repeated outside these walls unless you agree to it.”

“No… no, I mean, we—we have to do this. I’m never going to be… okay with what we have to talk about. So, it’s, it’s...” Zach hung his head. “I would like to just get it over with?”

Bryson reached a hand across the table and squeezed his wrist for a moment. “We’ll take it slowly. Archer, or anyone else, can come in or leave at your behest.”

Zach nodded again. “What first, sir?”

They began with his escape, what he recalled from the hours and then moments before the phone call. Lacey tapped away at her laptop, inputting things and looking at data as they worked backwards, trying to build a map of the places he had passed and for how long he’d run to try and pinpoint where he had fled from.

“And how did you get away that day?” Bryson asked.

The question rolled around Zach’s mind like a marble, or a maelstrom. It all hinged on this. “I… I had been, well, pretending. No, not pretending, um. Giving in, a little. Being, they called it good. But, pliant? I suppose. Not causing trouble. I don’t know—I couldn’t say why or really when it started I just couldn't anymore and I wanted… I knew they would pay me less attention if I behaved the way he wanted.”

“Zach, take a breath,” Bryson coached him. “You don’t have to explain the details, tell us in simple terms.”

Zach closed his eyes for a moment and thought about the most straightforward way to say it. “I saw an opportunity and I took it. But I don’t know if… if they let me, or if I really, actually, got away on my own.”

Bryson considered him for a long moment. “And he was hurt, when we found him?” He asked Jordan.

“Mhm, yes, two cracked ribs, plenty of abrasions. Newer bruising as well as old.”

“Zach is that consistent to the amount of injuries you typically sustained, or did any of them happen during your escape?”

“Only the soles of my feet were hurt when I ran,” he answered honestly.

“All right, then, we’ll circle back around to this.”

*

It went on like that. Questions. Answers. They checked that he knew basic information like the day and month, asked how much of his work with the team he recalled before his abduction. They asked how he got some of the scarring that had been revealed during his hospital stay, if there was anything pertinent to how he might recover or ongoing problems that he knew he had. It was a dance of back and forth as he tried to work out how much to give away, which parts of his shame to air or keep secret. Zach’s head spun and he gripped the table so that he didn’t feel like the room was tilting around him.

“Do you know where you were held?” Lacey asked, as she scanned the map she had begun to make. “Anything you know will help us narrow it down.”

Zach closed his eyes, his mind tumbling in an entirely different direction to the meaning of the question. The phantom touch of hands on him, gripping, invading his space. There wasn’t one part of him that had gone untouched, not one part of him that hadn’t been exposed. Held down. Held by his wrists, by weight on his back, by hands groping, chains restraining, ropes winding around and around.

“Zachary?” Bryson’s voice broke through the ringing in his ears. The panic was still palpable, but contained, he raised his head from where he’d pressed his face to the cool metal of the table. He couldn’t remember doing that, but he faded in and out of the present sometimes, and didn’t question it.

“There wasn’t only one place. And no, I was blindfolded or… or otherwise not allowed to see every time I was moved.” The same way you brought me here, he thought sullenly. All control taken, he was never permitted to know.

The room was silent until Bryson declared he required coffee, and that they should break for at least a few hours if not the rest of the day. Zach didn’t move from the chair until everyone else had left, and then he went to the bathroom and tried to keep down the meagre lunch that Archer had made him.

*

They didn’t start again until a day later. Zach had had a restless night, and the pain from his healing injuries was worse until Archer reminded him the pain medication the hospital had prescribed was in one of the drawers in his room. Once the effects took hold Zach felt almost lightheaded, much calmer, and he wondered if one of the tablets was a mild sedative. He hadn’t asked, he’d just swallowed them whole and known whatever came of it was exactly what they thought he needed.

It turned out it made him chattier and he couldn’t be as anxious about his answers. The darkest recesses of his mind whispered how that was their plan all along. To take his ability to think clearly and hold back. They wanted to talk about heavier subjects, some of the details of his ordeal, and here he was, words tumbling from his mouth before he could hold them in.

“Can you tell us who took you?” Bryson asked after the first few questions were out of the way.

That, of course, was an easy question to answer. “Decker. First. And then, when he sold me on—”

“Sold?” Lacey interrupted, squeaking the word out before Bryson’s hand waving could stop her. Zach looked between them, trying to gauge how they were reacting. He knew it wasn’t normal, to say it so casually. It had just been a feature of his life enough times that the sting of it was gone, mostly.

“Umm, yes?” He replied, not sure where the confusion lay.

“But why?” Lacey asked, pointedly ignoring the glares that Zach could feel boring into them from across the table. “You can’t just sell people that’s not--Sorry, I know, it’s just. Fuck. Zach, I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand and he let her squeeze it for a moment before pulling away with a grimace. His hand tingled where she’d touched him, he rubbed at it under the table, both chasing the warmth and wanting it to continue, and wanting to scrub his hand clean of it.

“Why don’t you tell us in your own words what you remember of these events?” Bryson said, clearing his throat and gesturing for Jordan to take an extra set of notes.

“Every-every one, sir?” That would be painful, he shuddered at the thought.

“An overview will be fine,” Bryson said, gently. “Help us understand what you mean.”

Zach wet his lips, tried to find moisture to stop his voice from cracking. “So after, once he’d got what he wanted from me, when.” He took a breath to steady the sudden onset of nerves. “Once I’d betrayed you all, he said he was going to sell on the opportunity for other people to learn what he knew.”

“After you succumbed to his torture? That was not a betrayal, Zach,” Bryson said, and though Zach wasn’t watching his eyes to be sure, he was certain Bryson held steady and believed what he said. Perhaps that wasn’t a betrayal, maybe thinking of it that way was a lie, told to him often enough that he’d started to think of it as a truth. But it didn’t matter, because what he was doing now…

“Yes. Right. Anyway, he didn’t just want to sell the information. He just offered our other rivals, people who felt they’d been wronged by us, or who wanted to get out ahead of any future altercations, a chance to… to get their hands on me and take the same opportunity. Or anyone else who felt wronged and wanted someone to take it out on.”

Lacey stood, her chair shuddering back as she pushed to her feet. Zach glanced up and saw Jordan looked a little unwell too. “I have to, I can come back, I just would like a moment.” She spoke slowly, calmly, but Zach noticed the trembling fist by her side, the only hint that she was distressed. He watched it all in a detached way, wondering what he’d done wrong to upset them. It was so tiring being the cause of everyone else’s actions and trying to judge their reactions. It was easier to let it all wash over him, it would either hurt him, or it wouldn’t, it wasn’t for him to decide.

“Of course, send Archer in instead,” Bryson said.

Archer came and hovered near the door once Lacey left, and Jordan pushed his chair further back, and took some deep breaths.

“So you were tortured for information, forced to endure the same treatment over and over again?” Bryson asked, and Zach thought he heard a wobble in the voice that was usually so steady.

“Yes. Um, partly anyway. In the end… in the end I just answered straight away. I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it over and over again. And often they threatened civilians, random people, if they found out that I lied. I couldn’t watch anyone else get hurt because of us--because of me. Sometimes I was just sold to people who wanted someone to hurt though, and I was… I was a good candidate for their revenge.”

The room was heavy with unsaid words, with the weight of the knowledge he’d just dropped in their laps. And Zach knew it wasn’t even the worst of it. He was sparing with the details of what had come after all of that, they didn’t need a laundry list of the horrors that now made up his nightmares.

The silence went on a long time, long enough that Zach was startled back into the present when Bryson cleared his throat and spoke again. If any silent communication had happened between the rest of them, Zach had missed it.

“So which of our old enemies did you take your leave of four days ago?” Bryson inquired.

Zach’s mouth twitched in a small semblance of a wry smile. He huffed, almost laughing, though not sure why it was funny. “Decker.” He could image the raised eyebrows and confused expressions even though he didn’t look up from the table surface. “He wasn’t done with me. The others… that was just the first six months, maybe? He took me again, I’ve been his since then.”

Zach was still his now, the threats and promises that had been made were a slowly tightening noose around his neck.

*

“Do you have any idea how they faked your death?” Archer asked eventually, as he leaned forward, one elbow on the table, dipping his head to try and catch Zach’s eye. “That’s the one bit we’re still not able to piece together. Do you even know where you when—” Archer’s swallow was audible. “What was happening to you, then?”

Zach looked up through his eyelashes, caught sight of Archer’s red hair.

“I remember,” he said, his voice airy. Dreamlike. He felt himself detach from it. “It was when I was still with Decker the first time, but I think he was nearly done with me.” He frowned, playing back the memories, slotting his injuries into place in his mind. The crossbow bolt entry wound was healed but the scar was still red. He had no fingernails left at that point, which made what came next both a blessing and more painful.

He teased the memory out. Yes, after that, he’d been left alone—completely isolated—for two or perhaps three weeks so that the worst of his wounds could heal and he could regain enough fight that the auction would be appealing. Just enough energy that the next buyer, the next set of torture, could knock the fight right back out of him.

“What do you remember?” Archer asked.

Zach thought he heard him swallow, he felt all the air in the room go still. He’d lost his breath too. “They showed me, the… the footage, the death certificate. Pictures of you all grieving. So I knew no-one was looking for me.”

He heard the gasps, heard Archer swore as Bryson tried to calm Jordan down, who was ranting about the coroner’s report. “It’s not your fault Jordan,” Bryson said. “None of us could have known, it all looked exactly as it should.”

“None of this is how it should be,” Archer’s voice was calm, a controlled quiet. Zach remembered that Archer sounded like that when he was close to losing his cool.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I died.” He thought that would make them all feel better, his foggy thoughts told him it was right, to explain like that.

“What?” Archer said, turning Zach bodily by the shoulders so they faced each other.

He nodded, trying to smile, and not show how scared he was of that memory. “They buried me.”

“I know we did, but… that’s not, what you mean is it?”

“There was a box, and a hole, and they played out the funeral for me, so I knew. What it was like. And, and when I came back out there was nothing left for the old me, I couldn’t be me anymore, because he died”

He’d clawed and clawed at the wooden box and inescapable horror of it, but had no fingernails to find purchase and no strength to break out. It was so small and hot in there, and later it got cold, so very cold as he couldn’t fill his lungs anymore until they’d dragged him out limp and weak. Not even a scream left in his body.

“Zach, Zach are you saying they, that one of the tortures was—” Jordan began.

“Don’t!” Archer interrupted. “Don’t make him say it.”

They all took a break after that, with so much left unsaid.

*

“Let’s just go back,” Bryson said the next day. “I’d like to revisit your escape, if you’re up to it.”

Zach thought he was. Jordan had explained that he didn’t need to take all of the pills at once that morning and he felt much more clear headed. He was still tired. He wanted this to be over, but he wasn’t sure what ‘over’ would look like and that scared him too. He pushed it all down and attempted to focus on Bryson’s question.

This was it, the moment. To go back, or to go forward. To come clean, or betray.

Words dried up in his throat, and his mind swam with possible ways to answer that simple question.

“Zach? Is that something you can handle today?” Bryson asked.

He must have been quiet for too long. He took a sharp inhale of breath, filled his lungs until they felt fit to burst and then breathed out slowly. He nodded. “It’s… I get confused. But I can try.”

“What do you get confused about?” Bryson asked, a kindly smile playing on his lips even as his brow furrowed in question.

“What happened, and, and when?” Zach picked restlessly at his hands. “Decker had--has--plans. I tried not to get too wrapped up in them, I didn’t want to know, I didn’t think it was worth knowing because I was never getting out of there… only then I did.” he scrubbed a hand down his face. “It’s confusing. I’m not sure how much to say--I mean how much you need to know. There’s so much.”

“Alright,” Bryson said. “You are safe here, anything you say will only be to help you, and us, not to hurt.”

There was a flood of emotions in Zach that he had kept at bay for years. Squashed and compressed down until they only came screaming out of him at the end of a whip, or the ferocity of a forced fight, or the violent intimacy laying his body bare beneath another. Dribs and drabs of grief and terror that made their way out through small cracks before he could close them back up and stem the tide.

These soft spoken words, said by people who cared so much and so openly, chipped away at the defenses he thought he had. The reassurances, the kind touches, the offers of food and rest… all of it was so strange to him now, and bit by bit hot tears kept wanting to make themselves known behind his eyes. He blinked them away, choked them back down.

“I don’t know where I fit in—into his plans,” he said, trying to buy himself time.

These people cared. They cared so much. They’d brought him back into their embrace and kept him safe and every bruise he had was fading, every cut healing. How could he ignore that?

Because you don’t have a choice. Decker’s voice whispered in his ear and he shivered.

Didn’t he? Wasn’t everything a choice? It was just a choice of who got hurt; him, or them.

His plan had always been to lie in a way that was closest to the truth, Decker had said that was easiest but nothing felt easy now. Still, he had no other instructions than the ones he’d been given. He had to stick to the plan.

“He wanted me to help him. He said… if I agreed he’d let me go. So, I agreed.”

Bryson shifted, Archer put his head in his hands. “He asked you to work for him, once he let you go.”

Zach’s pulse pounded in his ears. He felt himself nodding, numb to it. “I just did it to get away, I never meant it. I-I don’t think I meant it.” He frowned. “I just knew if I acted broken enough, uhh, if I went along with it, that was my way out.”

“He wanted you to be a double agent?” Archer asked.

“He wanted me to be his, I convinced him that I was.”

“But you’re not, right? It was all just… you said it was a trick? A ploy?”

Zach turned and saw the sincere, open question on Archer’s face. He wanted so badly to make Archer feel better. “That’s what I tried to do, yes. Must’ve worked, right? Because I’m here?”

Archer leaned over the space between their chairs and smothered him in a hug. He breathed in the scent of Archer, felt the heat of the closeness radiate until all of him was warmer.

“I just wanted to come home, I didn’t see another way,” he mumbled into Archer’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to agree to his games.”

When Archer pulled away Bryson was studying him intently. “This isn’t what you said on our first day.”

Zach gulped. “What did I say then?”

“You said that you saw an opportunity and you took it, but that you didn’t know if that was by your own doing, or orchestrated for you.”

“Yeah, yes. I meant that I didn’t know, I don’t know, if I was convincing enough, or too convincing. If I was clever enough to pull it off. Maybe—maybe I really broke? I don’t know.”

“But you’re here now, and you want to stay here with us? Safely? And not return to Decker?” Bryson asked. “We will protect you no matter what, of course, you’ve been through hell and under no circumstances would we let you be taken again, but you need to understand that if you’re not sure where your loyalties lie we cannot let you remain here.”

Zach licked his lips, his face burned red with some mix of emotions that he couldn’t name. Shame, maybe, a desire to hide and the embarrassment of being seen.

“I don’t want to be tortured anymore,” he said.

Bryson nodded. “Of course. That’s natural. But we need to know, can we trust you? Are you still one of us?”

They’d brought him to their headquarters and Zach knew that in itself was a sign of trust he hadn’t earned and he didn’t want to be reprimanded for it. If he was honest, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know. He wanted to be good, he was looking for a way to let this play out and for nobody to get hurt, he just wasn’t sure that was possible.

An honest lie, Zachary, that’s all it takes.

“I hope so, sir.”

[Taglist:  @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @hurting-fictional-people @lonesome--hunter]

[tunedtostatic]

galaxies of my heart

Vikady, also featuring Sana and a brief Krejjh cameo

CW: injury, aftermath of torture, painkiller drugs, brief domestic violence mention (not named characters), food, discussion of medical trauma & painkiller controversies

As she speaks, one of her hands makes what could be the beginning of a motion to reach for Arkady, then folds back into her lap. Arkady wonders if Sana gave her a crash course on Not Touching Your Loved Ones Without Warning After They’ve Been Tortured Because They Might Freak Out, or if that was something she already knew from her time as a medic. Either possibility feels depressingly plausible.

I finished my first tscosi fic! In which injuries are cared for, miscommunications are miscommunicated, assumptions are countered, and kisses are kissed. Title (and lyrics referenced in the fic) are from “space girl” by Frances Forever, even though it’s kind of a fluffy song relative to some of the subject matter, but not to worry, I have a permit [unfolds a sheet of paper that reads “I was working on my Vikady fanmix in the morning the day I started this fic and got it stuck in my head big time”]

Edit: I realized 9k is a little long to be easily navigable in post form so I archived this as well. I just learned when attempting to post a credited picrew that Tumblr is still hiding posts with links, but it’s at archiveofourown dot org, /works/31851859.

Edit the second: Re-reading “adrenaline makes you do stupid things” by jaggedwolf and I'm 90% sure I accidentally stole a couple things from there rather than the general primordial soup of my brain (the line "That can't be comfortable" and maybe the general concept of Arkady making sure she gets hurt before the person she's been captured with), so adding this to give credit where due to a really great fic that you should definitely read if you haven't already.

~

The first time Arkady surfaces, everything around her is still coated in a haze as though she’s dreaming. The room is quiet, and when she takes a sharp breath in, all of a sudden Violet is leaning over her, her hair swinging near Arkady’s face.

“You’ve got very dynamic hair,” Arkady says, or at least tries to say, and then she’s asleep again.

The next time she wakes up, she wakes up completely, although her mind still feels a little foggy. Her body aches, and—yeah, based on that ceiling, she’s definitely in the medbay of the Iris 2. Which means that they made it back to the ship, or at least that Arkady did—

Fear surges through her, and she peers back and forth. Her eyes land on Sana, who is sitting to the right of her bed, crocheting something that sprawls across her lap in chaotic loops.

Her intention is to say Sana’s name, but she can’t even make it through the first syllable, emitting a sound that sounds more like the “Ssss” of the litter of feral kittens Brian and Krejjh found that one time. Great job, Patel, you’d make a better hissing kitten than a first mate. Krejjh is going to have to stop calling you First Mate Patel and start calling you Feral Kitten Patel—

The thought of Krejjh is enough to make Arkady’s whole mind flinch. Krejjh—

The feral kitten hiss must have been loud enough for Sana to hear, though, because she’s dropping her crocheting to her lap, looking toward Arkady.

“Kady,” she says warmly, at the same time as Arkady croaks, “Krejjh—”

“Is fine.” Sana’s hand comes up to rest on the pillow next to Arkady’s cheek, a steadying presence, though she doesn’t touch her.

“They were with me.”

“They were.” Sana nods. “But they’re here and they’re not hurt. Hanging out with Brian in the kitchen as we speak.” She glances through the medbay door before her gaze bounces back to Arkady, and it’s such a familiar Sana kind of motion that Arkady feels the remainder of her panic fade slightly. Speaking of octopuses of myth and legend, that’s Sana, one mental tendril keeping track of the approximate status of each member of her crew at any given time.

“How are you feeling?” Sana continues. “Park said you were in a lot of pain before you passed out. Violet has you on a painkiller drip, but she’s using the minimum the way you always want. If you’re in pain, we can raise the dose.”

Arkady turns her attention more fully to her body. Pain and sensation are present, but muffled, as though they are far away. Ribs: hurt. Arm: hurts significantly. Legs: hurt, but only a little.

It’s bearable. “I’ve had worse.”

“Kady—”

“I’m fine, Sana. Just feels like…what do you call them…colors, purple, ouch…bruises.” She shakes her head, then stills with a wince. “The others?”

“Everyone’s safe.” Sana pats the pillow where her hand rests next to Arkady’s cheek. “Park found you and Krejjh before anyone laid a finger on them. He got out fine, too. You’re the only one who was hurt, Kady.”

Arkady studies Sana’s face. “How…bad is it?”

“Six fractures, no serious tissue injuries.” Sana’s voice is gentle but matter-of-fact. “We’re going to pick up some skeletal accelerators next time we’re on-planet. Violet thinks that with those in the mix, the worst,” she gestures to the cast on Arkady’s right wrist, “should be mended in about two months.”

Arkady closes her eyes. One day, everything is fine, the next, a few backwater IGR assholes get the drop on them, and now she’s going to be out of commission for two months.

Still. Better her than Krejjh.

The thought is an icily familiar one, although yesterday she was limited to the grimmer Better just the two of us than the others. Krejjh was tied up on the other side of the room, and when the IGR goons got bored beating on Arkady, or kicked her in the wrong place and just killed her, they’d move on to Krejjh, and there was nothing Arkady could do about it—

Arkady’s eyes fly open, and she turns her head to nudge it clumsily into Sana’s hand. Sana cups Arkady’s cheek in her palm, thumb brushing over her cheekbone, wiping away wetness. When Arkady exhales, her breath is shaky. Stupid. They’re all safe now.

“They didn’t hurt Krejjh?” Her voice doesn’t sound like her own, unsteady and small.

“They didn’t hurt Krejjh.”

“Can I walk? Before the two months?” Her voice is still so small. Stupid.

Sana brushes Arkady’s temple with her fingertips, her calloused palm still warm against Arkady’s cheek. “Violet says she thinks you’ll be able to use a walking cast in three or four weeks. Or a little earlier, depending on how quickly the accelerators work their magic.”

Arkady keeps her eyes closed. “Those aren’t cheap.”

“That’s what rainy-day funds are for.”

“Do we even have a rainy-day fund anymore?”

“I will shake Other Violet down for loose change if I have to, Kady.” Sana’s fingers caress her temple again, and there is steel in her voice as she says, “This is my ship, and when one of my crew needs something, I find a way.”

“I know you do.” Arkady opens her eyes, though she finds that her eyelids seem to have grown heavier in the intervening minutes. She blinks sleepily at Sana. “You’re such a good octopus.”

Sana beams. “Thank you, Kady! I…have some questions,” she adds, “but they can wait until later, I think.”

Arkady’s eyelids are so heavy, but there’s one other thing she needs to ask. “Vi’?”

“Violet’s okay, too. She’s been taking care of you since yesterday, but I shooed her off to get some sleep.”

Arkady smiles. “’nks, S’na.”

Sana smiles back. “We’re all okay,” she says tenderly, “and if anyone out there tries to change that, I will demolish them.”

Arkady nods against Sana’s hand, straining to keep her eyes open.

“We’re all okay, Kady,” Sana repeats, and Arkady lets herself slip into sleep.

~

There are hours of restless dreams, and a dreamlike interlude where someone gently shakes her awake, holding her head up and helping her drink a medicine cap of chalky fluid, before she slips back into dreams that finally segue into deep sleep.

There is quiet music playing the next time she wakes up. She can remember where she is this time, and she lies with her eyes closed for a minute, enjoying the sound of the instrumental jazz track she recognizes from Krejjh and Brian’s Infinite Space-Themed Playlist. In the darkness behind her eyes, she doesn’t have to face the fact that she can’t walk, or run, or kick, or punch, or protect the crew, or—

Okay, maybe the space behind her closed eyelids isn’t as restful as it could be. Arkady opens her eyes.

Violet is sitting beside her bed with one leg tucked up on the chair, reading a tablet. A few strands of hair have fallen from behind her ear to brush against her cheek, and she’s biting her lower lip the way she sometimes does when she’s focused on something. Brian’s little retro radio music player is sitting on the bedside table, continuing to ooze soft jazz as Violet lifts an absentminded finger to tap to the next page, then curls her hand back into her soft sweater.

Yeah, eyes open? Definitely an improvement.

She should probably say Violet’s name, regardless of how endearing it is to watch her read. Before she has a chance to do so, though, she must breath loudly or make some kind of noise, because Violet looks up, her face crinkling into a tired smile.

“Hey,” she says softly.

Arkady smiles. “Hey, Liu. Good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” Violet’s smile quavers for a second. “Really, really good.”

Arkady tries to make her voice reassuring. “Hey, I’m okay, Violet, huh? It’s gonna be okay.”

Violet rolls her eyes, a small smile blossoming on her lips. “You’re the one in the medbay bed, Arkady. I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

As she speaks, one of her hands makes what could be the beginning of a motion to reach for Arkady, then folds back into her lap. Arkady wonders if Sana gave her a crash course on Not Touching Your Loved Ones Without Warning After They’ve Been Tortured Because They Might Freak Out, or if that was something she already knew from her time as a medic. Either possibility feels depressingly plausible.

“It sounds like you have been taking care of me.” Arkady smiles again. “Sana said you were here with me all night until she made you get some rest.” She thinks back, trying to pin down a faint memory. “I remember seeing you, leaning over me?”

“Yeah, you woke up really briefly last night.” Violet wrinkles up her forehead in that adorable way that she does. “You said something that sounded like, um…‘You’ve have hair’?”

Arkady grins. “Well shit, Liu, you sure do have hair, don’t you?”

Violet laughs, shaking her head back and forth. Her hair bobs around as though a breeze is passing through the medbay, and Arkady laughs too, then winces as the pain in her ribs flares.

Violet stills instantly. “You have some fractured ribs—”

“Yeah, kinda put that together.” Arkady tries to breathe with the minimum possible amount of motion.

The expression on Violet’s face makes it look like she’s in pain herself. “Would you like me to up the dose on your painkiller drip?” she asks softly.

“Nah.” Along with the flaring pain in her ribs, both of Arkady’s legs and her right wrist have that same itching, burning ache. The rest of her body is just sore, like she’s covered in bruises, which she probably is. “Uh, speaking of which, though. Could I get a rundown on what’s, you know, busted? Sana said I had…six? seven?...fractures, but we didn’t get into specifics beyond the two-month limit.” She grimaces a little at the thought.

“Six,” Violet confirms immediately, before adding, with an abashed smile, “I mean, not that that makes things that much better than seven?”

Arkady resists the impulse to laugh again, confining herself to a snort. “Can’t argue that point.”

“In answer to your question,” Violet begins, slipping into her calm medic tone of voice, “you have two cracked ribs and fractures to your left foot and right ankle. They broke your right wrist pretty badly, and I’m going to need to be very careful about injecting any accelerators there, especially if we can’t find an actual doctor on-planet to do it, so it might be a little more than two months before any, uh, heavy use, but you should have the hard cast off earlier than that.”

“Right.” Arkady inhales through her nose; exhales through her mouth. “Could have been worse, right?” At least she isn’t blubbering the way she was with Sana, but her voice still drops too small and quiet on the last word.

“It could have.” Violet’s own reply is almost a whisper, and Arkady silently swears at herself for her choice of phrasing.

When she looks up, though, Violet doesn’t look weepy.

She looks furious.

“Hey, you okay there, Liu?” Arkady stares at Violet’s clenched jaw and balled fists. “You look like you’re about to blow a gasket.”

Violet laughs a little, flexing her fingers and curling her hands more loosely back against her sweater. “Did you pick that one up from Tripathi?”

“That’s not a mechanic expression. Everyone uses that expression.”

Violet gives her a skeptical look.

“Okay, yeah, I may have picked it up from the captain. It’s still a normal-person expression, though.”

Violet chuckles, and they both lapse into silence.

This is nice, Arkady tells herself. Spending time with Violet is nice. It’s nice, it’s pleasant, it’s a way to distract herself from the itching, burning ache in her limbs and the creeping dread of knowing that if the ship is boarded, Arkady can’t even run, much less protect anyone else.

“Speaking of Tripathi,” Violet says with a smile, “I should give you an update on the latest, ahem, on-ship situation. Our captain has declared that next time she has a free moment she’s going to tear out that weird shallow closet in the hall next to Park’s room and put in inset cabinets for towels and stuff so Park and RJ and I don’t have to cross the ship for them. But when RJ found out, they said…”

Arkady tries to listen to Violet’s narration of Sana and RJ’s stalemate about the cabinets, smiling at the appropriate points while keeping a lid on the sinking feeling of knowing that for not days but weeks, she’ll be able to do jack-all do protect either Sana or RJ, or Violet, who is sitting here smiling at Arkady with love and trust in her eyes as though half the universe isn’t out to get them here in their one fragile ship that Violet wouldn’t even be on if Arkady hadn’t tricked her onto it in the first place—

She shoves the thoughts away, focusing on formulating a reply to Violet’s story. “Well, if it devolves into fisticuffs, Sana could take them, but if Sana calls a vote, I’m pretty sure Brian and Krejjh will side with RJ about the sheet music, and I don’t know what or whether Park would care.” She grins. “So, even odds.”

Violet snorts. “Well, I’ll keep you apprised, assuming none of the combatants wander in here to make their case to you themselves.”

“Medbay and a show?”

“On this ship? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Arkady grins again. “I don’t know why Krejjh thinks being an outlaw is boring. The way we live, we practically produce our own shampoo.”

Violet snorts again before adding, in the kind of giggle-whisper Arkady most closely associates with grade-school gossip, “I can’t believe they got RJ into Sh'th Hremreh.”

“I know.” Arkady bites back another grin. “I mean, I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. Krejjh can be very persuasive.”

“If by ‘being persuasive’ you mean ‘talking loudly and enthusiastically about a piece of media until everyone in their general vicinity is compelled by gravitational media force to watch the thing in question,’ then yes, I guess you could refer to it that way.”

“I notice it hasn’t worked on you yet.” Arkady raises an eyebrow. “Or has it?”

“No, I have not dipped into Sh'th Hremreh.” Violet raises an eyebrow. “Yet.”

Arkady bites down on another chest-killing laugh before it can escape, glancing toward the radio on the bedside table. “Speaking of Brian and Krejjh creations. The notorious Infinite Space-Themed Playlist, huh?”

Violet smiles, gazing at Arkady tenderly. “You seemed a little restless in your sleep, and I’ve always hated total quiet when I’m sick, so I thought maybe it’d be nice to put on some background music.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Arkady pushes away an obscure flash of annoyance at the sentimentality of Violet taking the time to put on this playlist for an asleep Arkady as though something as trivial as music is a priority when Arkady is down for the count and Krejjh is doubtless drained from yesterday themself and the whole crew is going to have to figure out how to scrape by and cover piloting shifts and handle everything with no security officer and a stressed pilot and a tired medic and—

She shoves the annoyance aside, telling herself not to be an ass. There are literal studies showing that music is good for mental and physical health, right? And she sure as shit could use as much distraction as possible from the ache of her ribs and her ankle and her messed-up wrist. Having a playlist on is nice. This is nice.

Holst’s The Planets has come on, making for a somewhat grim background compared with the rest of the playlist, and Violet leans forward to jab irritably at the advance button until a benign rock song begins.

Arkady gives her an inquiring look, and Violet sighs, biting her lip again.

“I am so angry,” she says finally. “About what they did to you.”

“You and me both, trust me.”

Violet sighs, slumping in her chair. “You and me aren’t the only ones who are. Krejjh was pretty…shaken. Brian and Sana have been there for them, obviously,” she adds hastily, “and they’re doing fine. We can take care of each other. We are taking care of each other. The last thing I want to do is make you worry about us. But…” She trails off. “This isn’t just another day on the Iris. Not for any of us.”

“Well, that’s why the IGR does what they do,” Arkady mutters, closing her eyes. “Torture gets results.”

Violet sounds startled. “Every credible study in the universe has shown that torture doesn’t work. You said yourself—”

Arkady opens her eyes. “Torturing someone to interrogate them doesn’t produce reliable information. People know that. That’s not what it’s for. Torture is popular across the universe, through history, because it punishes people. Controls them. Their families. Whole societies.” She wouldn’t have to explain this to Sana. “When it’s on the table, you live your whole life under a threat. The actual torturing makes the people doing it feel powerful and good, and in the environment it creates, everyone else is easier to control. Win-win.”

Violet’s eyes have gone all huge and empathetic. “Arkady—” she whispers.

Something about that look always gets under Arkady’s skin. “Calm down,” she snaps. “I know you’re incapable of not freaking out when I talk about my childhood, but no, I’m not implying I was beaten up as a kid. The guards mostly just beat on adults; I think they knew that if they went after kids too often, enough people would’ve stood up against them regardless of losses. Or hey, maybe it was a vestige of human decency. Kinda doubt it, though.” She gestures vaguely with her good hand, careful not to pull at the IV. “I mean, of course I got beat up by other kids a few times, but just in a normal way, not in a torture way—Point is, yeah, I’ve known this stuff for a long time, but it’s not like you’re a stranger to it, right? You’ve spent your entire adult life under the IGR. You knew what was happening to some of the people who were disappearing.”

Violet is staring silently at her with that look of horrified concern, but hey, at least Violet’s overempathetic mind jumping directly to Cresswin as an explanation of Arkady’s knowledge on this subject is arguably preferable to her thinking through the percentage of Arkady’s life spent in Special Forces and then as an IGR guard herself, a train of logic that she finds herself hoping Violet doesn’t follow.

But that isn’t the right way to think about it, is it, her brain points out a moment later, the way it does whenever she considers discretely concealing the most hideous parts of herself from Violet. Violet is dating her. She deserves to know what she’s gotten herself into.

“It was never like…this,” she starts. “It was never me in a room with a helpless person, hurting them. But you know I was Special Forces during the war. You know I was a guard on Telemachus. Yes, I grew up on a prison planet and it’s all very sad but once you get over your latest shock about that—you’re a scientist, you can do the math and figure out that I don’t only know how this works from one side of it.”

Violet’s eyes are getting progressively wider, and Arkady drops her gaze to stare fixedly at her own hands. “They didn’t train us on the details of it; not…techniques. I mean, I don’t doubt they had people for that, but that would’ve been above my pay grade. But me, us, those goons who got the drop on us yesterday, we’re instructed pretty clearly in, ha, ‘maintaining control over a noncompliant population.’ Not like it’s just a few backwater goons breaking bones, either. When I was a guard—”

It isn’t even that her voice breaks, not really. It’s more of a stumble over the sudden realization that her voice should be breaking, or shaking, or anything other than steady and clear.

“When I was a guard, we all knew that some of the people we were guarding would be ferried to the more, ha, specialized options. Zone Z isn’t a secret.” Her voice, still flat, is rising. “And during the war…I can’t pretend that what I did in combat was better. I killed a lot of people, Violet. I killed a lot of people and they will never be alive again. You can’t say that that’s better than being a professional torturer. I can’t pretend that, and I can’t pretend some of my unit and some the people leading us…I can’t pretend that they didn’t do…” She stares down at her body. “This kind of thing.”

Silence. Arkady forces herself to look up.

Violet is staring at her in horror, but, for once, Arkady at least agrees that it’s justified.

She can feel herself breathing hard, and her face is wet again, which is frankly an indictment of her as much as anything else in this conversation. Crying to your girlfriend for sympathy about the horrible things you’ve done to other people isn’t exactly a good look.

“Look,” she says. “Some of this will haunt me until the day I die, and that’s good. It means I’m still human; it means…it doesn’t matter what it means. It’s what I need to do whether it means anything or not. I should be haunted. I think even Sana would agree with that.” She sighs. “I can figure out a way to live with this shit, and I do, but you signing up to…you know…see…someone who you knew was a smuggler and a killer doesn’t mean you thought through the implications of the IGR part of the equation before you asked me out.” Her voice is rising in irritation even though Violet is the last person in this medbay who deserves it. “I’m not the most mobile right now, but this is your medbay, I think you can find the door—”

“Arkady.”

Arkady looks up again. Violet is making steady eye contact with her. The horror hasn’t all gone out of her expression, but her voice is firm, not panicked. “I knew, when I started going out with you, that you had been a soldier with the IGR.”

“Okay, but you also assumed anyone who’d fought in the war was a ‘war hero,’ so you’ll forgive me if I have my doubts that you grasped what—”

“Arkady.” Violet’s voice is louder now, but still very level. “In case you need the reminder, I was fully aware of both your history and what the IGR was capable of the day I asked you out. You know, the day we were fleeing New Jupiter in a stolen IGR ship? That day?” A faint note of humor has entered Violet’s voice, though it disappears as she continues, “I’m going to leave for five minutes, to go to the bathroom and splash water on my face, not for good. I’ll have my communicator if you need anything.”

“Oh.” Arkady stares at her. “Okay?” she manages.

Violet walks out of the medbay, and Arkady stares blankly at the ceiling until her footsteps reenter. As promised, the hair around her face looks damp, but she looks calmer, more settled. She sets a glass of something on the bedside table.

“I brought you some juice, which you should be able to have now that you’re up and talking, but—” She sighs. “We should probably discuss this first.”

Arkady watches her.

“Arkady, I…” For the first time since her calm monologue before leaving the room, Violet looks uncertain, then presses on. “Like I said. I did know that you had been a guard with the IGR, and I did know more or less what that meant. And I knew—” She rubs her face with one hand. “Well, I didn’t know, it’s not like you can ever know with anyone, when I was a paramedic I saw cases of domestic violence where you never would’ve—anyway. I thought that I knew that you weren’t the kind of person who hurt people for your own satisfaction, and that felt like enough.” Her eyebrows crease together. “You make me feel safe. You always have.”

Arkady can feel her face beginning to get soaked again. All the things that she feels are careening around inside her, as though her heart is a ship in a bottle and somehow, within the glass, someone has conjured a storm.

“And it…sounds like I was right?” Violet lets out a breath that could almost be a shaky laugh. “You never…you’re saying you never did to anyone else…the kind of thing that was just done to you.”

She opens her mouth again, then hesitates, her words becoming slower and more contemplative.

“You’re right, though. I’m not sure I…that in the time after I’d realized the IGR was a lot less than less than perfect, I’m not sure I ever thought through the degree to which you, as a guard, would have been complicit in…those things. And…” She sighs again. “You’re right. I do think of people who fought in the war as heroes. I mean, I never really had a chance to—or, no, I can’t sit here and claim that I never had a chance. I never let myself think about how likely it was that some of the people fighting for us were…how did you put it. Specialized at things that make me sick even to think about. But also…”

She drops her gaze to her lap.

“I…I know that you killed Dwarnians. People. I know that a lot of soldiers killed a lot of people. I mean, that’s what war means, right?” She gives another shaken almost-laugh. “And I’m not—I’ve never been the kind of person who celebrates other people dying—”

“I know you’re not, Violet.” Violet is a biologist and a medic. Her work is the stuff of life, not death.

Violet slumps lower into her chair. “Yeah. But…because those deaths feel…felt…feel…partially justified to me, because the Dwarnians were trying to conquer us…maybe I let that make me forget a little that those deaths are still…deaths.”

She lifts her face, looking Arkady in the eye, and Arkady isn’t sure what she sees there. “Sometimes I wonder whether, irrespective of everything else about our lives—” Violet makes a swirly motion with her hand, as though to encapsulate the distances between worlds. “I wonder if you always would have been the kind of person who doesn’t lose sight of the death part.”

“Interesting theory, Violet,” Arkady says, once she can get herself to speak. “Doesn’t change that I was the one of us doing the killing.”

As she says the words, she realizes that they sum out to something snarkier than she intended, but there’s no bite to her voice, and Violet seems to register that.

“No,” she says simply. “It doesn’t.”

Arkady watches Violet in silence as she scrapes tendrils of drying hair off her forehead, straightening back up in her chair.

“Anyway. I’m not walking out that door, Arkady. You’re right, I hadn’t truly thought about what it meant that you were Special Forces. There are probably things about the war that I need to…well, I’ll probably never understand them completely, but things that I need to acknowledge.” She sighs. “But I meant what I said earlier. When I asked you out, I was asking you, not some hypothetical better you. Besides,” she adds quietly, “it’s not like I don’t have my own regrets.”

There’s a pretty big difference between ‘keeping your head down and getting a college degree’ and ‘actively killing people,’ but Arkady doesn’t feel like getting into it.

She lets herself sink back into the pillow. The room feels calmer, like the air on a planet after a storm.

No, it doesn’t, Violet said, and somehow, that feels like an anchor. Violet isn’t so horrified by the things that Arkady has done that she needs to pretend that they don’t exist.

“I. Uh. Okay.” Arkady attempts a smile, though she has a bad feeling that she’s making more of a weird grimace.

Fortunately, Violet doesn’t seem to mind, giving her a smile of her own that’s only a little shaky. “I’m glad we, uh, talked about this, but I’m guessing it isn’t doing your pain any good and I’m ready to shelve it for now if you are?”

“Shelving, uh. Sounds good.” Arkady nods vigorously. “Yeah.”

“Also, you owe me an apology for snapping at me,” Violet says calmly.

“Oh.” Arkady stares at her for a second. “I…shouldn’t have done that, should I?” Great job restating the obvious, idiot. “I…” Jesus Christ.

Violet is watching her silently. Arkady takes a breath.

“Violet, I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have snapped at you about something that had almost nothing to do with you. I mean, I shouldn’t shout at you in general, that’s broadly speaking a dick move, but in this particularly context I definitely, especially shouldn’t have—”

Shut up, shut up, shut up. What is a good apology even like? Sincere. Doesn’t make it about yourself.

“What I mean is—I’m sorry.” She bites her lip. "And, uh…thank you. For, um, not holding me to a lesser standard because I was hurt.” Or because I’m someone who has hurt other people. “Not that you should have to remind me I owe you an apology, but…” She squirms. “You had enough faith in me to know I’d. You know. Want to. So. Uh. Thanks.”

So much for not making it about herself. She coughs awkwardly. “So. Yeah. Uh. You sure there’s not anything…more that you want to talk about? Because I, uh, just freaked out and dumped a ton of my garbage right into your lap, and if there’s anything else you need to say, or ask, or whatever, I’m here. I mean, I kinda can’t go anywhere else right now, but—you know what I mean.”

“Thanks.” Violet smiles a little. Arkady nods, trying to smile back and hoping this one isn’t too grimacey.

Staring at Arkady as though deep in thought, Violet says, “I don’t think there’s anything else, right now. I still want you to talk to someone about…all this…at some point. It doesn’t need to be a civilian counselor. Just…someone. But…”

Violet bites her lip. Her pained look from when Arkady hurt herself laughing is back, if it even ever left. “You have multiple broken bones and you’re stuck in bed and in pain, and right now more than talking about anything I just want you to be able to rest.”

“Oh,” Arkady manages. Helpfully, she follows it up with, “Ah.”

Violet smiles again, then hesitates. “Though, there is—"

She is staring at Arkady very intently all of a sudden, and Arkady can practically see the gears turning inside her head. She feels her own body tensing, a runaway voice inside her warning her that reminding Violet about so much of her past all in one go might mean that this is the day Violet finally does walk out the door for good.

But when Violet speaks, it’s not about the part of the conversation that Arkady was expecting.

“So…you’ve always known that torture, um, works. Ever since you were a kid.”

“What? Yeah, I—you grow up on a place like Cresswin, you get a pretty firm grasp of what torture is used for, yeah.”

Violet is biting her lip as though in deep thought. “So…when I was on the Iris…and you’d just stopped pretending to be Kay Grisham, and I accused you of wanting me to get in the cryo chamber so you could torture me for information…you said ‘We don’t torture, it doesn’t yield reliable results,’ and then you said, ‘Also, it’s wrong.’ But you believed…you knew that torture did work.” Violet’s voice is slow, her face still screwed up as though she is working something out. “Even if not for the exact purpose I was accusing you of. So…when you said all that…the reason that you, the real you, didn’t torture, that the Rumor crew didn’t torture, is just because it’s wrong.”

“Gee, Liu, glad you’re having a warm, fuzzy realization about how heartfelt and wholesome it is that our crew doesn’t torture people.” Arkady’s pent-up dread gives way to a fervent eyeroll. “Have you met Sana? Like, held a conversation with her? At any point in time? For more than thirty seconds?”

Violet sighs in annoyance. “That isn’t what—” she fires back, then stops, her voice going gentle again. “That isn’t what I meant. Do you want to try to have some of the juice now?”

“Liu,” Arkady says, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Are you keeping a lid on the snarky repartee because I’m all injured and convalescent? Because if I can say anything I want while you nobly go easy on me, can I just comment that the way that you put cereal in your milk a little at a time ‘so it doesn’t get soggy’ is mind-blowingly—”

“You’re making me. Want. To be a lot. Less. Noble. About it.”

Arkady snickers, then smiles, holding out her bruised but less-busted left hand. Violet stops mock-glaring and reaches across Arkady’s body to take it in a careful, awkward clasp, smiling at her as though…

Well, shit, Arkady doesn’t know how to put it into words, or at least not into words that aren’t all dramatic and weird. Violet is smiling at Arkady as though Arkady is some wonder of the universe that Violet can’t believe she gets to have the privilege of seeing, like a star or a comet or…whatever it is that biologists rock their socks about, a really cool bug or something.

It’s weird and kind of overwhelming, but kind of in a good way, and Arkady just wants to sit here and hold Violet’s hand, and look at Violet, and let herself be looked at by Violet like the wonder of the universe that Arkady knows that she is not but that she could, as Violet watches at her, almost believe herself to be—

“Violet,” Arkady says, wrinkling her eyebrows. “How many painkillers do you have me dosed up on right now?” She squints at the IV bag above her, dropping Violet’s hand and trying to shove herself a little more upright against the pillows. “Also, does a convalescent gal get to sit up around here? I kinda want to try some of that juice, and maybe someday even do something horribly taxing like read an update on our ship’s computer systems.”

The corner of Violet’s mouth turns up in a smile. “I’ll raise the bed. Let me know where you want to stop.”

“Right.” Arkady lies back as the fancy Iris 2 medbay bed hums its way upright. “Okay, stop.”

Raising her head from the thin pillow, she tips her stiff neck back and forth, peering around the medbay, which looks pretty much the way it always does. Sana’s multicolored crocheting bag is slung over the back of a chair.

“Let’s see, I think there’s—” Violet leans somewhere behind her, pulling out a fresh pillow and reaching forward to tuck it gently behind Arkady’s head. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“In answer to your question,” Violet says, still in her calm, attentive medic voice as she continues to adjust the pillows, “you told me back when I was taking down medical info on the Rumor that you prefer minimal use of sedative painkillers, and even the Iris doesn’t have any of the good non-sedative intravenous stuff, so I’ve been using the minimum of the intravenous sedative painkillers and transitioning you to our standard orals. That should mean you’re less groggy, but also that we’re blocking less of the, well, pain, so let me know if you want me to adjust the dose. It’s not all-or-nothing; I can fiddle with it a little without instantaneously sending you to another dimension,” she adds, a note of warm humor in her voice as she sits back in her chair with smile.

Arkady blinks, still stuck on the first part of that. “You did?”

“Did…” Violet frowns, visibly parsing which of her words Arkady is referring to, before her face clears in understanding. “Did stick to the minimum end of the range I considered safe and reasonable?” She gives Arkady a look Arkady doesn’t quite know how to interpret, sort of alarmed and sad. “Your medical decisions are your own, Arkady. I’m not going to override your wishes just because I care about you and seeing you in pain isn’t easy for me. Or any other reason.” Violet’s eyebrows furrow. “No one should,” she adds, in that quietly defiant tone of voice that she uses when she’s declaring something and has realized that she wants the whole universe to know it’s what she believes.

“Oh.” Arkady swallows. “Yeah.”

“We’re coming up on the next dose of the orals in a quarter of an hour,” Violet says, her voice businesslike again as she checks her watch. “In the meantime, are you ready for juice?”

“I didn’t even know we had juice.” Arkady eyes the glass with interest.

“There was some concentrate in the pantry. When Tripathi and I sorted the food, we tucked some of it away in case someone got hurt and needed easy fluids.”

“That was very forward-thinking of you.”

“On this ship, not really,” Violet mutters, holding the glass to Arkady’s lips.

Drinking from the glass as Violet holds it turns out to be somewhat complicated and require both of their full attention, but once Violet sets it back down, Arkady leans back against the pillows with a smirk. “Hey, we’re dashing space rogues. A few bumps and bruises are all part of the job.”

“‘A few,’” Violet returns, but without rancor.

“It’s my job, Liu,” Arkady snarks back cheerfully. Between the juice and the strains of one of Krejjh’s actually-good Dwarnian jazz tracks and Violet’s reassuring presence next to her, Arkady is beginning to feel more like herself than she has in a while, the helplessness of yesterday starting to feel a little further away. Even the pain is…okay, the pain is still pretty painful, actually, a constant burn at the edges of her mind.

She hesitates.

“Violet?”

“Yes?”

“Could you maybe…” Arkady licks her lips. “You said you could fiddle with the painkiller drip a little, right? Because my shitty bones kinda hurt a lot and I wouldn’t mind if they, uh, didn’t.”

“I can do that.” When Violet meets Arkady’s gaze, her voice is calm and serious. “I’ll start with a small increment. It will take about thirty seconds to take effect. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

Standing, Violet adjusts something.

Arkady waits.

“Do you feel anything yet?”

The relief is noticeable, the pain in Arkady’s chest and limbs cooling down a notch. “Better. Wow. Better.” Arkady hesitates. “You, uh. Said that that was a small increment? I think I could use another small increment.”

“Okay.” Violet makes another adjustment.

This time, the relief is almost total. Arkady stares at the ceiling, feeling tears of relief prick her eyes as the burning ache eases to almost nothing.

Everything feels a little foggier, too, but she’s still here, and able to form mental sentences, and the pain is all but gone.

“That’s good.” She bites her lip as Violet sits back at her side. “That’s really, really—the pain is almost gone. Now.”

Violet swallows visibly, staring at Arkady in relief.

Arkady feels a tear coalesce and run down her cheek, and Violet reaches forward with gentle fingers to wipe it away.

“I’m glad, Arkady,” she whispers. “I’m so glad.”

Arkady lets a long breath out, looking around the room again. It’s almost like being in a new room, a room-without-pain, during a new day, a day-without-pain.

“Sana will be glad, too,” she comments wryly as her gaze lands on the crocheting bag again. “She gets all twitchy whenever she manages to have good food or meds or supplies on hand and someone doesn’t use them.” She grins. “It’s her whole octopus thing. You know, I think I called her an octopus yesterday? Krejjh won’t shut the hell up about octopi now that they’ve found out they’re, gasp, actually real, so I guess I just permanently have octopi on the brain now, and I was thinking about how Sana has her whole multitasking thing where she’s got an eye on the status of the whole ship and everyone on the crew at all times, and—damn it, I should have called her a ghost squid. She would have hated that.”

Violet is giggling helplessly. “I can’t believe you called Tripathi an octopus.”

Arkady grins lazily. “Yeah, well, now she’s gotten to enjoy living with the mystery of what the hell I was talking about. Even sedative-induced grogginess has the occasional upside, right?”

Speaking of twitchiness, Violet’s twitchy question face is back, though Arkady can tell she’s trying to hide it.

“You didn’t override what I told you, okay?” Arkady says. “You didn’t dose me up, even when I couldn’t have done anything about it, because I’d told you not to. So I figured you wouldn’t take a mile if I gave you an inch.”

“Oh.” Violet sits back in her chair, looking at Arkady with that same expression she was looking at her with earlier, sadness and something else Arkady can’t parse.                                                                

Arkady sighs. “During the war. When you got injured, they knocked you straight out. It made it easier on the medics, I guess—no panicking soldiers, just unconscious bodies to take care of until they got better or didn’t. And easier on the medics meant less medics per ship, which made it easier on the brass. I mean, I guess that was why, though I wouldn’t put it past just being a power trip for some of them—”

“I know.”

“—but it isn’t like you can easily say when it was that and when it was—” Arkady blinks. “Huh?”

Violet sighs, her eyes dropping to her lap. “That’s not just a wartime thing. When I was a medic out by O-11, some of my colleagues used too much sedative on people they thought were being a problem. Or who…might be a problem. Aggressive, scared, not ‘compliant,’ whatever. Of course, if you paid attention to who they were more likely to think was a problem…”

“I’m guessing there were patterns?” Arkady offers.

“Yeah.” Violet bites her lip. “The irony was that…this was less of a thing out in the field, but pretty often when someone was actually in the hospital, they’d be denied painkillers because the staff decided they were lying or exaggerating. It was…” Violet twists her hands in her lap. “It wasn’t just those problems, either. When you have a lot of people living in poverty, the power dynamics with whoever is in charge of access to medical treatment get…bad. It was not a good situation, and I was—you know. There. Being part of it.”

Arkady blinks, staring at Violet. Maybe the reason she didn’t know how to interpret the look in Violet’s eyes earlier was because it wasn’t actually the panicky huge-eyed way she looks at Arkady what feels like every time Arkady mentions some detail of Cresswin, but a look of recognition.

“I never thought about what it would be like to be a medic under the IGR,” she says quietly.

Violet finally looks up. “Part of it was the IGR, but a lot of my older colleagues had come up doing the same thing. It’s like you said. Republics aren’t perfect, either.”

“Oh.”

Violet licks her lips, hunching further into her chair. “It’s like you said about the war. Yes, sure, once I wasn’t a trainee and it was me and some colleagues out on a call, we were never the ones who gave those injections, used more than was needed. But that doesn’t mean that the ones I was with were always great about other things, or that others weren’t…” She sighs. “Just because I didn’t do anything especially bad myself doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have…you know, tried to do more than I did.”

Arkady stares at Violet, considering offering her her less-busted hand again, but decides against it. If she were Violet she wouldn’t want someone pawing at her trying to offer comfort about something that can’t really be comforted.

Violet’s work is the stuff of life, she thought to herself blithely only a few minutes ago, somehow not thinking about how much being a medic had to do with death and utterly traumatic shit. And-or, apparently, standing aside while your colleagues hurt and traumatized other people and then having to live with that.

“Jesus,” she says.

“Yeah.”

They sit quietly for another few minutes.

“Well, on a lighter note,” Arkady says awkwardly, “when it comes to your current cool, awesome medic job with our little band of dashing space rogues…can I, uh, have some more juice?”

The worst of the haunted look slides off Violet’s face as she smiles. “Of course.”

When the glass is empty, Arkady does reach her less-busted hand toward Violet, tugging her forward when she takes it. “Come here.”

She thinks Violet might go for a kiss on the forehead, depending on how fragile she’s thinking of Arkady as being right now, but Violet kisses her on the lips.

Their lips move together gently for a few seconds, then Violet settles back into her chair, smiling. “Your lips are sticky.”

“Excuse me, Liu, but I feel I should point out that your lips are now also sticky.”

“Touché.” Violet grins as she stands up again. “How’s your pain? We should still be transitioning you to the orals, so I’m going to get that ready now.”

“Still good.” Arkady smiles, wiggling the fingers at the end of her cast as Violet heads for the medbay sink.

“I know you and Sana are going to grump at me and Krejjh at some point for covering you and RJ instead of running,” she calls, “and then grump at me even more for making sure they hurt me before Krejjh, but if it had to be us, you are lucky you got me as a patient instead of Krejjh, trust me. They got completely freaked out when we tried to introduce them to Necco wafer candy a few years ago and still make grim remarks about ‘humans eating chalk.’ Dissolved pills would not be an easy sell.”

She’s expecting Violet to banter something back, but Violet looks downcast when she returns to Arkady’s side.

After Arkady has knocked back the chalky goo, she watches Violet carefully as she returns to the sink. That look could be about any number of things, but Arkady has the strong feeling that she’s seen it before, the first time Violet was bandaging her up after her gunshot wound on the Gay Louisa.

“Are you mad at me?” she asks, hesitantly, when Violet sits back down.

Violet’s face crinkles up in concern as she looks at Arkady. “Mad?”

Arkady grins weakly. “You know, because I went out and got myself hurt again?”

Violet’s forehead smooths out, then re-crinkles itself a second later. “I—no, Arkady, I’m not mad that other people tortured you. Or, I mean, I’m mad, I’m—furious, but at them, not at you.” She pauses. “And yes, I’m…‘mad’ isn’t the right word, but…it makes me upset that you got badly hurt to protect me and RJ, and it makes me upset that you think it’s good for it to be you who gets hurt instead of the rest of us. But you know that the times I chastise you for getting hurt, I’m not angry at you. Right?”

She smiles on the last words, in that specific abashed way that she smiles when she’s asking for reassurance about something that she thinks is just her anxiety playing up and probably not something she should actually be worried about at all.

When Arkady just stares at her, though, a look of alarm passes into her eyes. “You do know that, right?” she asks in a smaller voice. “I would never be really angry at you for getting injured.”

“Oh,” Arkady says. “Yeah. Of course I know that.” Did she?

Violet looks like she isn’t particularly fooled. “Well, now you do.” She sighs, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry. If—hypothetically speaking, I mean,” she adds, her lips twitching in the ghost of a smile. “If you’ve ever thought I was actually angry at you for being injured in a bad situation…I’m sorry.”

Arkady blinks at her, finally managing to muster a nod.

Violet smiles a little, reaching out and smoothing Arkady’s hair. “I’m not mad at you, Arkady. There’s nothing about you being hurt and in pain that I would ever be angry about.”

“Well, not nothing,” Arkady points out. “You just said that you were upset that I try to put myself between the rest of you and danger.” She can’t resist adding, “You know, my literal job?”

“Your job is being first mate.” Violet’s voice cracks slightly.

Time to see how prohibitive this wrist cast is. Arkady lifts her hand to Violet’s face, brushing a tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s a job with a lot of facets.”

Violet sniffs wetly, lifting her own hands to gently support Arkady’s wrist as she lowers it to her lips and brushes a kiss against Arkady’s fingers.

“I’m not mad at you for putting yourself between other people and danger, Arkady,” she whispers. “In fact, it’s probably one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

Arkady can feel her face getting hot as she stares, dazed, at Violet. “But…”

“I think it was a very brave and good thing that you did yesterday, and it scares me and makes me angry how okay you are with getting hurt to protect other people. I can feel both of those things at the same time.” Violet smooths Arkady’s hair again.

“Oh.” Arkady clears her throat awkwardly. “I. Oh.”

Violet chuckles, reaching up to dash a tear from her own eye. “You know what I feel, right now, more than anything? I’m just glad to have you back safe with me.”

“Oh,” Arkady says again. “I. Um. Hhh.” Get it together, Feral Kitten Patel. “I’m…glad to be back with you too. Um. Really glad.”

Violet smiles through her tears, and they gaze at each other in silence for a while.

“You know,” Arkady says wistfully, “I’m not exactly thrilled I can’t use a gun, or a knife, or punch anyone, or—” She cuts herself off. “Uh, you get the idea. But what I really can’t wait for is to be able to scoop you up, carry you to bed, and hold you in my arms all night long.”

“I.” Now Violet is the one blushing. “You…”

Arkady smirks, and Violet seems to regain the ability to form sentences, reaching out and caressing Arkady’s cheek. “Well, the scooping me up in your arms part will have to wait a little longer, but you should be able to relocate to your real bed some time in the next few days, and then there’s nothing stopping us from a whole lot of careful cuddling.”

Arkady smiles. “Sounds like a plan.”

“As for right now…I can’t exactly crawl into bed with you,” Violet says, sounding regretful, “but we could try…”

Pulling the chair with her, she moves so that she’s sitting as close as possible to Arkady’s shoulder, then carefully lowers her upper body to the bed so that her lower left shoulder rests just below Arkady’s right one, her face nestled into Arkady’s neck. Her left arm is presumably squashed under her, but her right hand comes up to rest on Arkady’s shoulder, thumb gently stroking Arkady’s shirt.

“Liu,” Arkady says, trying not to laugh, “that can’t be comfortable.”

Violet’s mutter against her neck sounds almost sleepy. “You’d be surprised.”

“Whatever you say.” Arkady tips her head to lean her temple against the top of Violet’s head. “Are you gonna fall asleep like that?”

“No,” comes the immediate response. “Or. Actually, this is more comfortable than I thought it would be, and I shouldn’t leave you alone for more than fifteen minutes while you’re still on the drip, and alarms are fallible so maybe I should…” She raises her hand to her comm. “Violet Liu to Iris Cockpit.”

“Attem—”

“Hello, Science Officer Liu!” sings Krejjh’s sunny voice. “How’s the patient?”

Arkady can feel Violet smile against her neck. “She’s doing pretty good, Krejjh. Hey, can you send someone down here in twenty minutes to poke me awake? First Mate Patel and I are at risk of engaging in some romantic tandem sleeping.”

“Iiiii sure can, Science Officer Liu!” The grin in Krejjh’s voice is audible, and Arkady feels a lingering echo of fear fading from her mind at the sound of them alive and well. “Aaand I’ll let you get right to it. Krejjh out.”

Arkady snorts. “I have no idea why you’re eager enough to cuddle with me that you’re willing to risk getting shaken awake in situ by a pilot making disgustingly enchanted faces at how ‘cute’ we supposedly are.”

“It’s a high price,” Violet says solemnly, her voice sleepy, “but it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

Arkady snorts again, trying to ignore the growing feeling of sunlit happiness in her chest. Violet’s hair is soft against Arkady’s face and her body is warm against Arkady’s side, and Arkady stares up at the ceiling, trying to comprehend how and why she has gotten ridiculously, disgustingly lucky enough to be here, now, with Violet’s hand curled around her shoulder and the steady rise and fall of Violet’s breathing against her.

In the kitchen, someone or something makes a subdued crashing noise, and someone else cackles loudly. Arkady can feel Violet’s amused sigh, and she smiles, letting her eyes drift closed.

“I hope you play this song someday,” croons the radio, “and think of Earth girl who loves space girl…”

A gentle current of air from the vents stirs a strand of Violet’s hair against Arkady’s ear, and she wriggles her head minutely to dislodge it before tucking her head back against Violet’s. As she closes her eyes again, the feeling of sunlit happiness is so strong that she wonders if she’ll be the one to stay awake even as poor tired Violet falls asleep. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it?

When Krejjh enters the medbay eighteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, they have to bounce back and forth from one foot to the other in silent agony for several seconds at the sheer adorableness of the sight of their crewmates cuddled together on the medical bed. First Mate Patel’s forehead is smoothed out in sleep, a smile on her lips, and even when Krejjh nudges Science Officer Liu awake and she disentangles herself from her girlfriend, Arkady curls her head into the indentation Violet’s cheek has left on the pillow, as though even in sleep she knows that any space that Violet takes up in the universe is a place where she will be safe and sound.

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ three

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 4.1k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act one ➻ part three

​

"First order of business," Yunho starts as he gets up from his stool. "I need to run some basic scans on your arm to gauge the injury and infection. Then a full-body scan to see how far the infection has spread. How long have you had the injury?" He moves around the bed you're placed on with quick steps, a tablet in hand.

"Th-Three days," you stammer, watching him work. Spectre cuts in, and you almost forgot he was standing nearby with a brown belt in hand.

"Four days. Today is the fifth," he says. Yunho glances over at him, eyes wide in question.

"How do you know…?"

"She was on the bridge of the HMS Revenge. Considering that Hongjoong destroyed the ship four days ago, this is the only logical explanation." Spectre motions towards you with his head. "I noticed her on the second day, to be honest. I only wanted to see how long it would take for her to reveal herself. Until I saw the blood trails, at least."

"Ah yes, that makes sense." Yunho nods before bringing his tablet to hover over your arm. Blue light emits from the bottom of it, a faint stream of light that cascades over your bare skin.

Now that your military uniform has been stripped, you can see the injury better, although you don't particularly want to see it. It's bruised black and blue, blood all around the hole that is shiny and fresh. It oozes a bit still, although the liquid is not all red, and you're certain that it's the infection mixed in as well. Not something you would like to look at but the blue rays coming from Yunho's tablet are quite fascinating to watch as they dance over your arm. You don't feel the touch of the light; you can only see it as it moves as though on its own accord. Sure you've had injuries time and time again, but the treatment methods for them were never like this. No fancy tablets with strange lights. Although the military has always had a more traditional approach to everything they do.

"Hm. The bullet is in there pretty deep, huh? It… uh, it's in an awkward spot. The bullet tore right through your brachialis muscle along with a bit of your bicep. Moreso, the nerves all around the path of the bullet itself seem to be a bit fried? I doubt that makes any sense to you, but in layman's terms: two muscles have critical damage, and that's not something we can immediately fix. I can remove the bullet with an emergency operation to cut the arm open and take it out, which is the best course of action. The nerves can be… I'm not sure how to say this in a way that will make sense to you. Hm, well. The nerves can reconstruct themselves over time. When I do the surgery, I can help them along a little bit but I don't think it's needed. Nerves try to repair themselves by shrinking back and resting for a period of time. After the rest period, they grow back as they were. Muscles can do the same sort of thing but not in cases of extreme trauma. A muscle damaged in extreme trauma creates these gaps that are too large to fill on their own so scar tissue forms in the gaps as a way to compensate. Does that all make sense?"

"I have an infection-induced fever," you state. "I don't understand anything you're saying." Yunho raises his brows.

"I'll take that as a no." Yunho lifts the tablet higher and drags it through the air above your head all the way down to your feet. The blue rays conform to your body as they move, widening and contracting with the folds of your clothes. "San, could you do me another favor? I need you to go get Woo so I can have an assistant to run the operation."

"No, no, I can do it," Spectre answers with haste. His eyes dart between you and Yunho. "Woo won't be necessary. I can help you." Yunho stands up straight, pulling the tablet back to his chest one the light retracts from your body, and stares at San. He looks ready to argue about the topic but never opens his mouth to retort. Instead, he releases a deep sigh: a sign of relenting. San's lips quirk upwards into a small smile of victory.

"Fine. Get the anesthesia injection, a scalpel, tweezers, and gauze." Spectre turns away from the bed upon hearing the command. You watch him walk out the corner of your eye, thinking over Yunho's words.

"Anesthesia?" You repeat. "I thought you said you didn't want to use anesthesia on me."

"I didn't want to. But that was before I ran the scans and saw the extent of the damage to your muscle. I'm not getting this bullet out without trouble, so numbing it is pretty much the only comfort I can give you." 

"Wait San – the belt. I need it." San passes said object to Yunho by tossing it across the bed. Yunho folds it in half. "Here, you're going to want to bite down on this." He holds it out to you, and you take it between your teeth, glancing up at Yunho as you do. He then reaches around you to pick up the bottle of vodka from his table. "Please – well, please try not to jerk your arm while I do this."

Yunho grips your arm at the elbow, a small effort to keep you steady as he tips the bottle towards your wound. You clench your teeth around the leather belt before the alcohol even touches your skin. Anticipating the worst helps quite a bit, in fact, because the second the first drop of alcohol lands on the wound, you're screaming around the belt. If not for the death grip Yunho has on your elbow, you would be thrashing. It's the worst pain you've ever experienced. Far worse than being shot, far worse than burns or frostbite, hell even getting shot by a laser hurts less than the pain you're in at the moment. Yunho keeps the steady stream of alcohol going, flushing the wound out. The mix of blood, infection, and alcohol is causing a grotesque foaming mixture that drips from your arm to Yunho's hand and onto the bed.

"Hang in there, I'm almost done," Yunho mutters, voice barely audible behind your muffled screams. He continues pouring alcohol over the wound until it runs clear but the pain doesn't let up even after he stops. "See, that wasn't too bad!"

His cheery tone and optimism only make you want to punch him in the nose. Luckily for him, your punching arm is out of order at the moment and you're in so much pain that you can barely feel the limb. All you can do is spit the belt out. Yunho catches it before it hits your lap. He inspects the leather, a small laugh escaping his lips as he sees the indentations of your teeth along the belt. You all but bit through the leather on both sides.

"I hope you didn't like this belt too much, San," he calls to the man who stands on the other side of your bed. He's gathered the materials that Yunho asked for, all piled up with the other stack that Yunho already had.

"Oh, I didn't. Captain did though."

"You took this from Hongjoong?" Yunho asks, voice rising as he gapes at the other man. He grins like a Cheshire in response. "On god San, you're fucked if he finds out."

"That's why he won't find out. Can't miss something you forgot you had."

"That's not the way h—"

"Anyways." San passes the shot of anesthesia over to Yunho, interrupting his train of thought.

"Yea, yea. We need to work fast to get the anesthesia in so there's enough time for it to kick in and wear off before the 47 hours are up." Yunho takes the shot in one hand, his other hand squeezing around your elbow. He pokes at the skin a few times then presses so hard that you release a loud noise from the sudden pain. The needle enters your arm so quickly that you barely feel the pressure. Warmth is the only thing you feel for a moment, a cozy yet uncomfortable sensation that spreads down to your fingertips and all the way up your arm. "Okay, we'll need to give you a bit of time now. The anesthesia will take a bit to kick in, so in the meantime, I need to run an IV drip for dehydration. Just for putting some fluids back into your body that you've lost through all the sweating and vomiting. Not to mention you probably haven't had a lot of water in the past few days. I'll also do a drip later for narcotic painkillers once the anesthesia begins to wear off. Okay? All standard protocol for an operation like this, I promise."

"Let's just get it over with," you murmur back. He frowns at you, a small "okay" leaving his lips before he continues his work on you. 

The combination of your fever and the pain is bringing a piercing headache. You don't notice that Yunho moves around the bed until his hand reaches for your left arm. You yank it away as though burned. His eyes go wide at the forcefulness behind your action. A moment later though, he tries again, fingers closing around your wrist. You try to tug away but his grip is a bit too powerful this time and you fail to release your arm from his grasp.

"I need your uninjured arm for the IV. There's too much damage on your right arm to get these fluids into your bloodstream."

"Use my right arm or no arm at all," you hiss back. Your fingers clench into a tight fist, knuckles going white from the pressure.

"I already saw it," Yunho whispers. There is no point in whispering, as the room is silent aside from his voice, so San can hear the words as well. Still, you freeze. The tension leaves your arm and you let it fall limp in Yunho's grasp. "I'm sorry. I saw it when we were getting the uniform jacket off."

"Whatever," you say, looking away from the man. The plain, white wall before you is suddenly much more interesting. Despite the length of time that has passed since you received the brand, the memory always remains fresh. The sensation of searing hot metal being pressed against the inside of your wrist, the pain that resonated through your whole body, and the feeling of five pairs of eyes glued to you as you received the brand. It's all too real and present in your mind. Just the thought of someone seeing the brand is enough to send you headfirst into those memories.

"How… how did you get it?" The healer inquires. His voice is quiet again, no doubt hesitant and uncertain about asking the question. You barely feel the next needle that enters your arm.

"That's none of your business," you respond without looking his way.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry for intruding. I'm just – just trying to make conversation to distract you from the pain."

"Well, talk about something else. Not my past."

"Understood." You catch sight of Yunho's small smirk out the corner of your eye. Despite your confusion, you decide against asking him about it and wait for him to contain what he's doing instead. He places small round patches on various points around your chest, deft fingers dipping under the fabric and back out without you even feeling it. "These are just for keeping an eye on your heart rate. It's good I checked too because your heart rate is awfully slow. Could be due to the infection or your body is trying to conserve. Normally I only see it this low if the patient is asleep though."

"Need anything else?" San asks. He steps forward, hands coming to rest on the foot of the bed.

"Not right now. I think we're – wait. Wait." The level of panic in Yunho's voice does not comfort you one bit. Especially when Spectre's face shares the same level of concern. "Something isn't right." Yunho swipes furiously at his tablet, fingers moving so quickly over the screen that you can't tell what he's trying to do. "She was shot in the arm… outer arm with no exit wound, the bullet still present in the brachialis muscle right against the humerus. Why does she have pneumothorax too?"

"English please?" San asks.

"Punctured lung. It's a punctured lung that could collapse at any minute. Yours looks to be a pinhole, meaning it's small and acute. You should recover just fine without any treatment if you were a healthy adult but there's a serious infection running through your blood and that means it could cause complications if not treated. More importantly, I can't do an emergency operation like this if your lungs aren't fully functional. I'd need to put you on an oxygen mask just on the off chance that your lung collapses during the surgery but a one percent chance is still a chance."

"What caused it? I haven't noticed anything." You try to sit up a bit to look at Yunho's tablet but he pulls it away before you have the chance.

"It depends on all sorts of factors. Do you know how long you've had a lung problem?"

"I didn't even know I had a lung problem," you retort.

"She's been on the ship four days, Yunho."

"Okay, okay. We can worry about that in a bit. I need to get the IV drip in now." You glance forward as Yunho approaches your arm with another long needle. San is blocking your line of sight. He doesn't look back at you; instead, his eyes are fixated on your arm, rather your wrist where the chain brand resides. Subconsciously, you turn your wrist away only to have Yunho resituate it again as he inserts the long needle.

"You're looking pretty pale again," San comments. You take a deep breath but find yourself unable to respond. All the white in the room begins to blur together. All the strength left in your body is ebbing away. "Yunho, she's looking pretty fucking pale!" The man's voice climbs in volume as his form blurs into nothingness. Yunho keeps working on your IV, securing the catheter and tubes with a piece of tape.

"Shit, hey. Hey. Hey, stay awake." Yunho reaches over, patting your face with his palm. You push him away with a weak shove as a wave of coughs overwhelms you.

"Is this normal? What do you need? What's wrong with her? What do we do?" San rambles. Yunho rubs at the skin between his brows as San speaks.

"Shut the fuck up, San. If Woo were here, he would know what to fucking do since he helps me ninety percent of the time." San leans forward, smacks Yunho's hands away from his face, and grabs hold of his collar.

"If you don't want my help, then you're on your own," San hisses as he yanks Yunho forward. A weak laugh escapes your lips.

"Do you all fight this often or am I just special?"

Yunho sighs at your half-hearted jab and pushes San off him. He reaches for his ear, beginning to speak again but this time it's not directed at San.

"Wooyoung to the med bay for emergency operation assistance." The moment his hand leaves his ear, San is back in his face.

"Call it off!" He yells. Yunho deflects San's anger with a surprising sense of calm.

"I'm not letting a girl die simply because you don't want him to be seen. The fact of the matter is you don't know what the hell you're doing so you're of no use to me."

"Your damn savior complex is going to be the end of everyone on this ship."

"Then we were doomed the minute I set foot on the ship. Wooyoung is the only one who knows how to help me conduct emergency operations and laser surgeries. You need to fuck off and let me do my damn job. It's my job to save people, no matter the cost. Yours is only to kill them. So, why don't you listen closely and hear the wheeze in her breaths? The sweat on her forehead? The residue from her arm? If I don't get to work quickly, then you'll have a body to haul out. Do you want to be responsible for her death?"

At those words, San stands down. He leans back and stands up straight ahead, the fury dropping from his features as he moves. He turns away from the bed but something in you causes you to lunge forward with a sudden bout of strength and catch his wrist. He glances down at you with widened eyes.

"Thank you… for – for saving my life." San's gaze softens. A smile almost crosses his lips but he stops it before it can show too much.

"I did nothing except prolong the inevitable," comes his response. The words are spoken in a cold and emotionless tone, much different from the tone he used with you previously, but you no longer have the strength to even think straight. Your hand falls away from San's wrist as you fall back against the bed. Yunho lets San leave the med bay without exchanging further words with him.

Instead, the healer finishes connecting all the IV tubes and fluid bags.

"You're probably going to pass out," he mutters, bending over you and resting his palm against your forehead. "We'll try our best to work quickly and keep you under during the operation, okay?" You can only nod against the pressure of his hand. He eases you further into the bed and makes sure you're flat against the mattress. The action is like the magic touch for you to fall unconscious. Before your vision goes completely black, you see a new form enter the med bay, one with tanned skin and hair that looks like coal and ash. You don't have the chance to look over the rest of his form before the darkness overtakes you.

✦          ✦          ✦

Waking up again takes far too much effort. Your whole body feels as though it's made of pure lead, and you can't even open your eyes easily. You can't recall what happened before you fell asleep or where you are; the confusion only grows further when you're finally able to crack your eyes open.

White. The color is all you see for a few moments before your vision clears up some. The brightness of your surroundings blinds you. You shift and push your head to the left. Wires and tubes are all around you, two lead to your arm and another to your face. You try to feel around but you aren't able to; the strength hasn't completely returned to your body. All you can do is move your head from side to side for the time being. You check your other arm. There's a large white bandage wrapped around your bicep and you can't recall what's underneath it.

The clink of metal distracts you. It resounds from somewhere in front of you, and as you twist to look in that direction. A man with tan skin stands near a sink. You peer at him. Something about his figure seems familiar but you can't place it. Seeing him brings reality back to you, however, and you recall how you got here, a Cheshire cat finding you in a crate, the gentle giant healer who helped you.

"Wh-Where am – where am I?" You stammer out, voice cracking and hoarse as you try to talk. The man jumps at the sound of your voice. He drops what he's doing and turns towards you, eyes wide and curious as he looks over at you. Now that you're more awake, you can see more clearly and get a better look at the person with you. Besides the caramel tan, he bears dark hair that's almost black but not quite. The color is more between silver and grey but the color of his hair is the least interesting thing about him. There is a metal collar around his neck, a thick block that stands out against his skin, and you peer at it in curiosity. A collar? I don't… You don't have time to look at him, however, because he's rushing towards you a second later.

"Oh, you're awake!" He chirps as he comes closer to your bedside. "You're aboard The Horizon, ship belonging to Captain Kim Hongjoong. I'm not sure whether you remember it, but you were awake for a little while before the surgery." At his words, vague memories of a healer and a man with a strip of white hair float to the forefront of your mind. "You had a pretty awful fever though so it might be a bit hard to remember. Yunho – the healer, if you remember him – patched up the pinhole in your lung and kept it from collapsing with quick laser surgery. We also removed the bullet in your arm and drained the infection. He patched it up with stitches as best he could. He said that it was hard to close without some skin grafting, but he didn't want to do that so he just closed it without the extra graft."

"How – hold on, how long have I been here?" You ask. The sudden barrage of information catches you off-guard. You're still waking up, brain not coming back to full functionality, yet this man doesn't seem to care about that one bit. 

"Oh! Hm, I think you've been on the ship for maybe a total of seven days? If you include the first four stowaway days, that is. Otherwise, you've been asleep for three days."

"72 hours," you mutter to yourself. You remember something about the captain telling Yunho that he only had a certain amount of time to fix you.

"Sorry? I didn't quite catch that."

"72 hours… but the captain gave Yunho 48 hours to fix me."

"47 actually!" The man corrects with a bright and blinding smile, his teeth shining under the yellow light above your heads. "Captain only gave 47 hours to fix you, but it only took Yunho 17 so."

"Wh—What do you mean?"

"We were up for 17 hours trying to fix you up. Captain was impressed at Yunho's speed so he said that you could have extra recovery time. Oh, if you pretend to still be resting, you could get longer recovery time!"

"Why is everything in this room so damn white?" You mutter as you push yourself into a sitting position. The man shakes his head.

"No, no, no! You shouldn't get up!"

"Why not?" You protest, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. "I'm fine, I feel fine, and nothing is going to rupture. Laser surgery doesn't leave tears or stitches either so it doesn't matter."

"No!" The man argues, voice climbing in volume. You blink up at him, eyes wide from the sudden outburst. "Yunho told me not to let you leave, and I won't go against what Yunho wants. If he says you stay here, then you stay here."

"This is ridiculous. Now I'm being kept here against my will? Am I a captive now?" You scoff as you continue to get to your feet. The man moves with surprising haste. He leans across the space in front of you, snatches up something from the table, then grabs your head. You try to fight back but he has already caught you and overwhelmed you. Something sharp pierces your neck. You cry out at the pressure but waves of warmth wash over you next. You stumble backward when he releases his hold on you. The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you fall back onto the mattress as your strength leaves your body again. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry but I had to do it. I won't go against what Yunho says." His voice sounds somewhat remorseful. You're losing consciousness so fast that the world spins around you and as you glance over at his hand, you spot a large shot. You'd recognize that almost anywhere. The military use them religiously, a typical weapon that you would brandish when dealing with insurgent civilians. High grade emergency sedative shots.

"Y-You…" You can't finish the sentence before the exhaustion overwhelms you and you pass out yet again.

✧  ✧  ✧

a/n: hello hello it’s that time~ new chapter! i hope you all enjoy it! please let me know what you think so far and what your fav part has been or anything about the story!! i know things are moving rather slowly at the moment bUT i promise it’ll pick up in the coming chapters, we just gotta get through this ish first !!

consider sending me a ko-fi!!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[shelby-love]

JAY HALSTEAD

Stalked.

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warnings: angsty

Authors note: Y/S1/N (your older sisters name), Y/S2/N (your younger sisters name)

"Your labs came back negative... I'll make sure to get you discharged immediately." You stand next to your patients bed, scrolling through his charts and scanning the monitor.

The man that lied on his bed looked lost and confused. He came in today saying that he was experiencing sharp pain in his stomach. He kept telling you he was in pain although there weren't any possible medical explanations for what he was feeling.

You consulted with Dr. Charles and you decided to discharge him.

"No...no, no, no, no. You have to do them again! Please..." His body jumped and his rough hand found your wrist. Your eyes opened wide as you snatched your hand away immediately. "I...I don't feel so good."

You watched him carefully. This wasn't the first time he forcefully grabbed you.

You almost reported him several different times but you decided against it because now you were getting rid of him. That man was sick in his head.

"Doris make sure to change the dressing on his shoulder then send him off after that." You hand the tablet to the nurse who does as you say and then you walk out.

"Tough one huh?" Dr. Charles leaned against the desk as you typed your password into the computer to access your doctors ID.

"Is it wierd if I say that I was afraid to treat that man?" A big tortured sigh escapes your mouth. "I didn't let that affect my professional judgement but still...it was horrible."

"I believe ya." He replied and stole a glance at the trauma room your freak patient was in. "I mean... He comes in with stomach pain, then he requests to be under your care specifically and after all of that...when you want to discharge him the first time suddenly there's blood pouring out of his shoulder by accident." You nod your head in agreement. "I can confirm something. You...you're not crazy. He's the one who's crazy."

His words left an uneasy feeling settle over you.

***

"Hey girls," You sing into your phone. It's 8 P.M. and your shift just ended. "What do you two want to eat? I can stop by Manny's and get us some food."

Your two sisters agrue about what to eat and whilst they're doing that you get into your car and buckle up. You then fix your rear-view mirror and notice something really odd. There's a blue sports car parked not to far away from your car. The car looks really exotic. So exotic it just doesn't blend with the other cars around yours.

"What the..." You watch closely. A man in a black hoodie is sitting in the car. The whole car is lit up like a soccer field at night and that freaks you out. This parking lot is for Chicago Med workers only. "Who's car is that?"

"What did you say Y/N??" Your sisters screech pulled you back into reality.

"Nothing." You reply quickly and take the phone in your hand. "I just though I saw something."

"Girl you spend way to much time with Jay and now you're starting to sound just like him." Your two manic sisters giggle. "Where is Jay anyway? He hasn't stopped by much lately."

You wonder off to sad places after what she said. "He's been busy." He hasn't been home much at all. Usually he always picks you up from work and drops you off at work too.

After they start to gush over you two you decide to hang up and go to Manny's whether they want to eat there or not.

***

"I'm home!" You voice as soon as you enter the house. You recognize your younger sisters footsteps as she marches down the stairs like a champion.

She snatches the food out of your arms and runs towards the dining room. "You're welcome by the way!"

You kick off your shoes and hang the car keys onto the key holder. When you make your way in the dining room you notice your other sister. She's stiff like a statue with eyes glued to the window. You poke her head, "What's up with you?"

"She's been looking out of the window like a hwak for God knows how long," Y/S2/N says while munching her sandwich.

"Because I've never seen that car before," She defends herself. You stand behind her and look out of the window yourself.

The blue sports car.

"Like that car is too exotic to be owned by someone from this neighbourhood." Your sister continues to blabber. "I just wanna see who the person is."

"Did you see someone come out?" You ask and sit down, slowly you start sinking in your chair.

"No I didn't, oh my God people that's why I'm looking!" She swings her arms in the air.

"Stalking." Y/S2/N coughs into her shoulder.

They giggle for a little bit but you're confused and scared. Jay always told you to be careful when you see the same car wherever you are. You could he paranoid but he always said that its better to be save than sorry.

You shake your head and dismiss the red flags.

"Pass me the food would you?"

***

You stand in front of the window. You hear your siblings making popcorn for your movie marathon in the kitchen.

You still feel uneasy.

Y/S1/N dropped the subject of the blue car but still looks out of the window herself a few times but you took her spot as a permanent watchman.

Your heartbeat spikes up drastically when you see the lights in the car turn on and reveal a masked man. You're reminded of the parking lot and your blood runs cold.

The car moves until its directly across the road.

You check if your windows are all locked.

***

"Did you close the window Y/S2/N?" Your sister asks casually. The three of you are sat and cuddled on your giant sofa.

"It's hot in Chicago for the first time ever, let the breeze in." She replied and stuffed her mouth with popcorn once again.

"More like let the burglars in," You couldn't laugh with them at the jokes they kept throwing. The odd feeling in the pit of your stomach just wouldn't go away.

"I'm cold." You announce and stand up. They don't bother to stop you from going upstairs so you slowly make your way up the stairs.

You walk slowly, almost tip toeing, with your breathing leveled and controlled and nervous sweat breaking out everywhere. Your instinct told you to run, call Jay, ask him to come, but you decided you were paranoid and walked in regardless. No sooner had you hit the light switch did a man grab you and you went tumbling down the flight of stairs.

There was a man standing in front of you. You couldn't make out his face, as he was completely unknown to you.

Unknown until he took the hood of his head. You screamed and tried to get away but he grabbed your ankle and yanked you towards him. By the time he fought you into his arms your two sisters stood in front of you with a phone and a number typed into it. Jay's number.

Your pajama top was ripped but it still somehow hung onto your torso like a loyal soldier.

"Drop the phone or she dies!" He yelled and pressed a knife to your throat. Your sisters shook with fear but after seeing you nod with tears in your eyes they did as they were told.

"Gavin please let me go," You begged but he didn't have any of it.

"No! Do not try to get into my pants now doc. You had your shot!" He yelled into your ear and pressed your back into his harder.

"Gavin please... We can talk about it..I-I can look at your charts again. Help you feel better." You wince as you feel the sharpness of the blade against your neck.

"I wanted to do so much to you..." He whispered, "After you helped me feel better I was going to please you to return the favor... But you did nothing!" He smashed your body against the pastel colored wall but didn't let you sink to the ground. "Nothing!!"

And that's when he did it. When he pressed the knife into you three times. Only the third time he did it and your sisters jumped on him did he notice what was going on. He dropped the knife to the ground and ran.

"Y/S2/N CALL JAY NOW!" The oldest sister after you screamed. She dropped to the ground with you and took her shirt off. She pressed it against your bleeding belly in hopes of calming down the stream of blood that was coming out of three different holes.

You felt dizzy. Your stomach burned and you slowly felt numb all over but you were still able to hear yours sisters sad cries. "C'mon Jay hurry up... Y/N please stay awake."

You lost count of time. You didn't know if you were just stabbed or if you were awake for hours with a bleeding belly.

Commotion builds up in the small neighbourhood. You make out the sounds. Police.

"Chicago PD where is he?" Voight asked your younger sister who managed to choke out that he ran away.

"Y/N? Y/N!!" Now you really felt numb to voices. But fortunately, the last thing you're ever going to be numb for is Jay Halstead. "Jesus Christ Y/N baby are you okay? Y/S1/N? It's okay don't worry I got you now..I got you."

Then you blacked out.

***

"Hey... Go easy." Jay had his strong arm wrapped behind your back as he fixed your pillow so you can lean against it and sit up.

Your whole stomach was bandaged, you had bruises all over your body and somehow you still managed to break a finger.

"How are you feeling?" Jay grabbed your healthy hand in his own two and kissed it countless times.

"Like I just came back from yoga class," Your soary laugh lit up the room.

"I'm happy your humor didn't go away." You can see the gloss in his eyes. He really really was afraid that he lost you.

"Jay..." You were cut of with an emotional kiss. Jay leaned towards you so quickly you didn't have time to process it. You cup his small subtle beard covered chin and return the kiss with just as much emotion.

You tried to push away the bad thoughts and memories from what happened. You wanted to forget it all and the first step forgetting is being able to laugh and joke about it.

And that's what you are going to do.

With Jay.

[albino-whumpee]

The boss´ herding dog

You can thank insomnia for this one. Also, my need to show an aspect of Albus I´m DYING to explore on the arc after For you. This is a few weeks after the whole photos fiasco. Sann has barely started to learn sign language so he will sound a bit cut(?).

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread  @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump  @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker

CW// Slavery, dehumanization, suggestive language to taunt, manhandling, blood, angry caretaker, workplace bullying, conditioning, pet whump, mentioned ableism and negative views on stimming, mentioned past noncon and fucky victim self blaming (it was necessary kind of fucky)

It was odd for him to show the collar around. People stared, people whispered. Albus would hear them talk about him on his back all the time now. But he would keep working. As it was what his owner bought him for. He knew that. He knew it and yet…

“Do you really have to go, Tony?” He asked the man putting his things inside a cardboard box. As he scratched his wrist over the leather band Sasha gave him to cover the number. He frowned at the clean desk, the walls that had been decorated with flyers ideas and visual references, the drawer with his snacks too were gone. All fitted inside the trash bag the lady had put into her cart a few moments ago.

It was a quick clean up so the box was almost empty. His analogue clock, his sketchbooks, his computer, tablet, photos of Sasha and him, of his family and even one that included him looking awkward as Sasha hugged him and Tony took the photo with his phone.

It was funny how much of a life could fit inside a box.

The man shrugged, pulling the box over the empty desk. “I hit the boss’ son. I have to, buddy” Albus lowered his head. If he hadn’t…he shook his head. There wouldn’t have been a party in the first place if he hadn’t. He had been good, but sometimes, it wasn’t enough to be more than that. Tony’s wide hand squeezed his shoulder “It’s not your fault, Al. I promise I hit that bastard because he deserved it. But is annoying because I didn’t have a brick to build him a prettier face” he joked making the albino smile. The other smiled too, opening his arms “Hey, Al can I hug you? I’m gonna miss you man”

The albino didn’t need to be asked, not from him. But it felt good to know he had an option. “Im gonna miss you too” Albus pulled his arms around his waist and squeezed. Sinking on his chest. After a moment they pulled apart and Tony dig through his things to take out the bags of snacks to put them on his arms. “Sasha will keep them on her office now”

“You know she’s never there”

Tony grimaced “But she lets her office open. You can take them and come to have lunch with us” Albus mouth opened to say Zarai wouldn’t- hadn’t allowed him to do that. Even if he went grocery shopping with his ID… “I talked with her. With miss Montenegro. She said it’s alright if you came with us. Just to notify her before you go” Tony smiled. He had his jaw on the floor. Always helping him like that… he couldn’t help but go for another hug.

“Thank you” the albino muttered as the man ruffled his hair.

“And how’s Sann? Everything going ok?” Albus scratched his neck as Tony sat on the chair. They still had time before the new guy came. Tony crossed his arms “He’s having a hard time isn’t it?”

“He’s adapting…slowly…”

They had been eating on the floor with Sann for a while now. Until they could get him to sit at the table. “It was a full conversation to tell him to not be naked in the house...and that he could sleep in my bed alone without...earning it...” that made a vein pop out Tony’s forehead.

“That pervert bastard” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah… At least he’s doing very well with Sasha’s lessons. Told me about this new book he´s reading in signs!” the albino smiled remembering how happy he had looked to see them come back the first few days. The book pile over his nightstand growing and growing as the days went by. For some reason calculus text books from Zarai’s days at college and an old encyclopedia had caught his attention.

It had become normal for him to work on the laptop on the studio’s sofa and have Sann sitting next to him on the floor reading. Sometimes, he mindlessly hanged his arm only to find Sann leaning on to it. He had tried not to touch him, to pull away, but he had caught his hand and pulled it to his head. Sloppily signed it felt good when he did that.

“And how are you feeling?” Tony suddenly asked taking him by surprise. His face was knit with a bit of worry.

Albus forced a smile “I’ll be fine” he replied. The other hummed.

“Don’t forget Jeremy is also there and half the trainees adore you. If you need help” Albus nodded bitterly. Lee had stopped talking to them entirely. Wouldn’t listen to her tasks unless another person told her. A few people had become like that towards him now.

Because he was a box boy and would always act keeping his owner´s pleasure in mind like a loyal dog, he had heard them say. And they were right. He had been trained to have his owner’s safety as his maximum priority. If Zarai was in danger, he wouldn’t doubt a second to switch places.

Albus had to say goodbye to Tony that day to welcome days of dealing with the aftermath of what Robert had provoked.

Dealing with people letting things slip carelessly just to see him try to catch it, bossing him around, laughing when he did all the tasks, when it was “just a joke”. Having almost a heart attack upon finding a dog plate full with dog food over his desk with a note that said “for the boss’ puppy” he had to throw away and clean before Zarai saw it. Going to more public zones was tricky now. He was fine with the rumors. But hearing two trainees talk about their lack of promotions and suddenly seeing him enter the room to use the copying machine went really uncomfortable when he overheard one sigh.

“At least I don’t get deals by making my pet sleep with them” Albus hand crunched the pages on his hand and slammed them on the machine before he turned to them. Recognizing the dirty blonde who had talked as Galván. A guy who had graduated from a top college because his parents could afford it with pocket money and worked there because his uncle made a few calls.

“Ma’am´s position was earnt through her own hard work and years of experience. I would be very happy to remind you, you will need either her or my signature to have your degree after four years of dropping college, so you can find any other job than just an internship someone gave you” the guys snorted.

“What? Puppy boy can actually bark?” The other guy went, a black haired guy with a wiry body type and at least two heads taller than him. He vaguely reminded him of handler Harry. His primary handler. The one who supervised his whole training, and the one to make him stop circling his thumbs, wiggle his leg or tap when he was nervous. Until eventually it came back and Zarai said nothing. They started rounding him “Look at you, acting like you own the place” one of them reached to his neck and Albus stayed still as he uncovered the collar. Digging his nails into his hand “but you’re just the herd dog. Looking after your Master’s sheeps”

“By that logic, I guess the sheep should know they’re below the dog’s watch” the guy felt a chill seeing Albus’s crimson eyes gleam darkly. A grin crept to his face as he firmly put the guy´s hand away. “You were so slow at the beginning and asked me for help for something that took me two days to learn. It was me who helped you not get fired in your first week, wasn’t it? The dog with no degree” the guy scrunched his nose. Albus felt strange as something coiled inside his stomach and a white stinging pain formed behind his eyes “You better not stray from the herd and stay where I can see you”

“Shut up” the guy said pathetically, amusing Albus.

“Shut up what? Remember your manners” and Albus was bitterly reminded of training. Of the white rooms and the men who smiled when they shoved him to his knees. Who lifted his chin up and mouthed his instructions. The same he was saying now, echoing through his memories “You will refer to your superiors with respect. And when they ask you to do something, whatever it may be, your only reply will be “yes, sir” understood?”

The other guy laughed at his friend. Picked his ribs before turning to Albus again.

“Well, aren’t you sharp? My uncle’s boxie is a dumb domestic who can’t even clean a spot right. Just mindlessly begs to be forgiven all the time” there was something on his smirk that made Albus’ skin crawl “he became a lot more fun when they taught him how he could be useful as a romantic” the boy´s eyes sparked with malice “Heard all the ordeal with the CEO’s pet and you, sir” Albus froze “But I need to know from you, sir. Do you herd him too?” He took a step closer to Albus in that same suffocating air as the handlers. Albus tried to control his breathing. It would be fine. Their conversation had gathered a few faces, as well. Quietly amusing themselves with the show “Do you make the Romantic say “yes, ma’am” to her when she’s using him? Or do you make him say that to you only? I heard you were a romantic too, so maybe, you’re just teaching him how she likes it so he can join in? Or maybe, he’s worse than that? He’s your pet sir?”

—

The sound of her heels made faces on the crowd watch on her direction. Many of them running away as soon as they spotted her. Giving her freeway to the middle of all the commotion.

“Take it back!” She heard Albus scream eraged, so atypical from him. It was a surprise to see Albus being held back by a trainee as another stood before him with his knuckles peeled red and covering his bloody nose. Two guys restraining him harder as they saw her. Albus spit a bit of blood as he shouted “You know nothing about him! Take it back!” He jerked against the guy restraining him.

“Mister Serra stop!” the blonde trainee said putting his all into not letting go even as he squirmed so violently. Kicks in the air just to get an inch closer.

“NO! He has no right to say that about him! He doesn’t know shit about us! None of you do!” He screamed at the top of his lungs “Let- ngh, Let me go Jeremy!” He said through gritted teeth. “I need to knock some sense up that stupid head of-“

“Hear this out, the dog wanting to explain to me about a cocksleeve!” He cut him, just making Albus fight harder.

“Enough!” She hollered coming to his line of sight. Freezing them completely. Some people had taken out their cameras and she snatched one phone out of their hands. “What is this? A high school quarrel? You’re adults in the working force, gentlemen” she let it sink, seeing how Albus went stiff and trembled since the moment he spotted her. Zarai turned her head to the trainee with the bloody nose “We wont send some little piece of paper for your parents to sign, you go straight out” Albus eyebrows knit in horror stopping to struggle.

“No, please wait, ma’am” he whispered shakily as Jeremy balanced letting him go.

“I dont even need to know who started. you’re fired. Get your stuff out now” she said pointing to the widened eyed trainee as Albus suddenly collapsed on the floor. “All of you better erase those videos right now unless you are sure you can face the consequences.” She growled loud enough for the crowd to let a thick quiet settle. She knelt in front of Albus and he flinched wildly when she approached her fingers to his neck.

“Pl-Please, please no. Im, I, Im sorry, please! he, he said-“ he covered the collar with his hands. Trying to keep her from taking it away.

“I dont care what he said” she terminated before she took a napkin Jeremy handed her “Im not gonna take it away, are you ok? You took quite the hit there” he nodded slowly, somewhat relieved but not taking away his hand from his neck just yet. Albus kept looking at the ground as she wiped away some of the blood off his mouth. He saw her stand and talk again to the half dispersed crowd. “Most of you don’t know me very well yet. But have clear that I do not take lightly when my property is damaged and much less when the most capable member of my team has to endure your childish behavior” Albus head sank slowly as she kept talking. Nodding when Jeremy asked if he was alright and helped him up “I thought better of you. But you have proven to me not worthy of that right. I’ve had enough of this situation” she eyed every single frowned face, every guilty and compliant. “If I hear, or see, something like this happens again, or I find any of you trying to start a fight or bullying others, I will have them personally seen outside the building after signing their resignation letter and put you on the blacklist of candidates myself. Are we clear?”

“But what about-“

“Are we clear, Miss Lee?” Zarai directed to the black haired girl among the crowd. She stared at the ground while she nodded “Whoever refuses to accept this can come to my office to explain and sign their resignation. Thats all. Disperse”

She watched them walk away, before she turned to Albus “Follow me”

The albino´s heart leapt before he walked after her with his head down. His heart drummed at each step and seemed to halt to a stop when she opened the door for him. Albus stared into her eyes, but as many other times, she was unreadable when she cocked her head.

Clenching his jaw, he stepped inside and heard the door close behind him.

He had fucked up.

He had completely broken her trust in him and he would finally be punished.

What was he thinking? Mistakes weren´t allowed.

Zarai walked past him to a small cabinet behind her desk, but Albus had his eyes locked in the ground. Not wanting to see what exactly she would use to punish him until she was on it.

“On the desk” she ordered still rumminating through a metallic box. The boy breathed in deep before walking to her desk with shaky legs. The uncertainty of what would come just made his heart race faster. He sat on it obediently anyways.

“M-Ma´am, I´m so sorry…” he started, fear taking the worst out of him, his hands got damped in sweat.

“I know you are” she replied calmly before pulling his chin up with soft fingers “Lift your head, hun” Without meaning to, he flinched wildly at the sight of blurry fingers over him. Zarai fished his jaw and pressed slightly on each side, to turn his head up “Hey, hey, don´t move. I know it hurts but I need you to stay still so I can put it on”  Zarai then poked his cheek with something cold, making him blink at the refreshing sensation on his skin. “Doesn´t hurt, right?”

He blinked confused at her, “L-Lidocain?” he said in the smallest voice she had ever heard.

“Uh-huh” she kept rubbing the gel over his bruising cheek. Completely frozen over the desk as she cleaned his busted lip. After a moment she closed the lid of the gel and put it back on the metallic box. He now recognized it as a first aid kit. After she put a bandaid she looked down to throw the package in the trash “You can come down now. How´s it?”

It took the boy a moment to reply, slipping off the wood desk with ease “Better…Thank you, Ma´am”

She hummed as she put the box away, sitting on her chair as the boy stood in front of her desk utterly transfixed in her calmness.

Albus kept eyeing her furtively. Worry visible as he kept rounding his thumbs. She took notice of it quickly and stopped herself from checking her computer to sigh. “Tell me”

“Im sorry for the trouble ma’am”

The woman lifted her eyes.

“No, Im sorry. I should have done this sooner, dont worry about it” she turned on her chair to face him. Lips parting and biting it for a second “You have been working for me for six months, Albus. You know better than this” the way he sank on his shoulders confirmed “I dont wanna know what they said because your reaction was probably justified. I trust you in that. But you can’t do this again, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am” he kept quiet for a minute before he dared speak up again “Ma’am?” he tried “Why wont you punish me?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Would you want me to?”

“N-No… I mean- no, but-” the boy stammered, squeezing his hands tight as he lowered his head submissively “…But I won´t complain if you think I deserve it”

“That´s not going to happen. You did nothing that required punishment, Albus” she sighed.

“But I started…I punched him first” he admitted.

“Well…that’s certainly surprising” she found herself wondering how he had reached his face with his small height “But no. You won’t be punished for it. The guy was also getting on my nerves with that sly mouth. So maybe I should thank you”

The albino sneaked a little smile “Then…then will you keep me? Will I be able to keep working?” Zarai sighed and nodded. The albino looked shaken, capable of keeping his composure, as he went back to work later. She knew by just watching him automatically doing his chores and cleaning up when it was time to go with a blank face.

The elevator was quiet and the ride home even more. Zarai wasn’t exactly a feeler. But she knew the way his eyes were fixed on the floor as he waited for her to enter the house was empty. She gave him a headpat then. No words as she didnt even know what to say to him that would cheer him up. But still, he leaned on to it.

“Thank you, ma’am” he said when she took away her hand to open the door.

“Everything will be ok yeah?” she smiled at him before they entered the house. The boy trailing after her feeling a small blush on his cheeks. He could hear Cloude’s loud voice and smelled something very sweet. French toasts?

Sann came trotting to meet them. Wearing one of Cloude’s shirts that were too big for him and basketball shorts. He bowed to Zarai who gave him a headpat too and a smile before walking to the kitchen to greet Cloude.

“French toasts arent breakfast?” She teased.

“Time is a social construction. Its 10 am somewhere” Cloude thought french toasts were for breakfast too, but Sann had never tried them and frankly possibly neither Albus. Prepared them? Yeah for training surely. Eat them? Not so sure “Just a lil something after a hard day” he said to her before she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

The freckled boy smiled wide before he spotted the bruise on his cheek.

“What happened?” He signed worry flooding his face as Albus shifted uncomfortably. Taking off his leather band as he remembered what the other guy had said. Anger threatening to come back. Sann noticed his knuckles were bruised too. “Hurts?”

“Nothing important” Albus shrugged. Looking away “Dont worry, it was just a scratch. but it looks ugly because…albinos bruise easily…” he said every word slower than the last, as his bitterness leaked through his words. Waiting for him to nod, to sign yes, for anything but him softly soothing his swollen knuckles.

“Easy or not, bruises still hurt” he signed as an affirmation, eyes losing focus to wonder back on memories. Sann looked up again before stroking his healthy cheek. “Wont ask how. Instead, Want some ice?” Sann smiled after signing. Just before noticing a tear rolled down Albus’s cheek. Then he frantically started to round his chest as an apology.

The albino shook his head not able to shake the smile off his face for the rest of the night. It was even more difficult as Sann finally sat on the border of the chair. Next to him. To eat french toasts for the first time and had Cloude laughing at their reaction. Even more as, deep into the night, he stroke Sann’s hair while sitting next to him reading the space part of the encyclopedia. Sometimes asking what a word meant and pouting when he didnt know. Taking out the dictionary and reading the meaning together.

The futon on his back didn’t feel so hard suddenly. Even if he managed to keep himself awake way after Sann left to sleep, he covered his eyes. After a moment, he passed his fingers around the leather collar on his neck. Loosened up to sleep like always. Still there. The physical permission to keep having all that. A cozy place to sleep, a job, friends as well as the insults and degradation.

What deemed him her property.

He had her words stuck in his mind all day. His Ma´am had made something clear that day but it didn´t make him feel better at all. It was just…so exhaustingly confusing. He didn´t understand how to be good for her, how to keep the punishments away. By some lucky strike he had managed to get this far without fucking up, but this was an strike and he knew better by now to think she would wait for a third to act.

Albus let out his breath as he covered his eyes with his hand. Feeling the warmth of his swollen fingers, he opened his eyest to stare at the knuckles with bandaids Sann insisted in putting after some ice and smiled before rolling over to face the door, covering his head with his arm like an instinct the handlers didn’t put in him, and closed his eyes to sleep.

For a moment, Albus swore to himself he would figure out his owner as he went by, even more carefully now. It would be ok. As long as he had that one person by his side, it would be enough.

[markftmingi]

sit down! - part two

summary: the king of south korea hires you personally to become the prince’s personal bodyguard after he receives death threats but still continues to life his life dangerously

pairing: prince!badboy!jaehyun x bodyguard!badass!reader

warning(s): this bad boy got some violence so uh yeah spoiler alert: you get jumped saving jaehyun’s ass. so tw// mugging(?) but johnny saves u.

sit down! masterlist

after only working at the seoul palace for a week, you could admit this was a tough job. most of jobs you had consisted of you tracking someone down and taking them out. you never had to watch over a prince and protect him, especially a stubborn prince who kept trying to sneak out every chance he got. even though the interior was new and modern, the seoul palace was still hundreds of years old. the doors still squeaked and certain floorboards creaked just like they creaked under jaehyun’s feet just now.

“where you going, pretty boy?” you called out, scaring him.

“jesus, siren, you nearly gave me a heart attack... i was just going for a brisk walk.”

you scoffed, “yeah? a brisk walk in that outfit?”

jaehyun was black suit with pretty gold flowers printed all over it. he didn’t have a shirt under his blazer so his toned chest was on full display. (you know his suit in kick it? yeah.)

“okay fine. you caught me. it’s ten’s birthday and he wanted to go clubbing. i swear i’ll only be gone for 3 maybe 4 hours. you don’t have to come with me.”

“uh, yeah. i do. who’s going to watch over your drunk ass?”

“johnny!” jaehyun blurted out, “johnny’s actually downstairs with one of the cars right now! a little secret between you and i? i think johnny has a crush on ten.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, “i am trusting you this one time. fuck up and you’ll never see sunlight again. leave your phone on so i can keep track of your location.”

jaehyun’s dimples popped out as he smiled brightly, “yes, yes. of course. thank you. bye.”

something felt off about the way he just took off so fast but if johnny was there then he’d be in good hands... right?

___________________________________________

waking up in the middle of the night wasn't something new. during training, you’d have ice thrown on you at 3am to wake up and fight. but right now, you woke up to johnny blowing up your phone.

“i lost jaehyun. he snuck off from me at the club and the little shit turned his phone off,” johnny spat out as soon as you answered.

you sighed, “stay at the club with the others. i put a tracker on him before he left. he seemed suspicious earlier. i’ll get him.”

“be safe,” johnny muttered before hanging up.

you reached under your pillow and grabbed the tablet you used to see the surveillance and track him. jaehyun wasn’t that far from the club but it was down some dark alleyway and he wasn’t alone. how could you let this happen? how could any of the guards let this happen? you cursed loudly and threw on some clothes. you took the tablet with you so you could track down the car he took.

when you pulled up, the first thing you saw was jaehyun’s fancy suit. he was being held against the wall by a tall, bald man. behind that man was four other men around his height.

"everything okay here?" you questioned, walking forward.

all five men turned to me quickly. one man laughed while the others glared.

the one holding jaehyun held his shirt tighter, "you little shit. we told you to come alone,” he cursed.

"i d-did! she followed me! she doesn't know anything about this! i swear!" jaehyun said quickly.

"he's not lying. i don't know anything about what you guys do... but i do know that you're going to let him go."

all the men laughed this time.

"listen, little girl, this son of a bitch owes me money and he's either going to give me it now or he's getting the beating of his life. i don't care if he's the prince or not."

you pulled out your wallet, "how much?"

"5,000,000 won... something you can't afford." the bald man laughed.

you counted 5,000,000 won out of your wallet and held it out.

"no sweetheart, he has to pay me. it's not how it works around here."

you rolled your eyes, "look. it's the same money. i'm paid by the king. either you take the money and we leave unharmed... or you don't take the money and we leave unharmed."

the man let go of jaehyun and he let out a breath. jaehyun slowly walked over to me but you didn’t make eye contact with him. you were pissed. 

"my plan is to take the money and kill you both."

you pushed jaehyun behind you, "go back to the club."

"w-what?" jaehyun stuttered, looking at you like you were crazy.

and you probably were for doing something like this.

"you heard me. go back to the club. johnny’s still there with the boys."

"siren, i'm not... i can't."

"for fucks sake, jaehyun! fucking listen to me for once! go to back to the club. tell johnny where i am if i don't come back in twenty minutes. get in your car and drive."

jaehyun luckily did as he was told and left.

"you shouldn't have done that." one of the men said before running at you.

you caught his fist before it hit your face. you twisted it until you heard a sickening crack. that didn't stop him much though. he tried to kick you also but his leg suffered the same fate as his wrist. another man swung at you and you barely dodged it. he was fast. you dodged his attacks and he dodged yours until you felt a sharp pain in your calf. you hadn't even noticed that the first man had managed to crawl over to you and stab you in the leg. you kicked him in the face with your other leg and knocked him out. before you could turn back around, you were knocked to the floor. the second man stepped on your wound and held his foot there. it hurt like hell but he was stopping it from bleeding too much. you reached for the gun on your hip and he quickly grabbed it and threw it away.

"i should kill you," the bald man began to say, "but instead... i think we'll teach you a lesson."

he then swung his foot down on your stomach. they took turns: kicking, punching, slapping, stomping all over you. everything burned and ached and you couldn't really breathe. your vision was blurry. you could feel yourself getting ready to pass out but you heard a gunshot followed by the men running away and johnny’s voice.

“stay awake, kid,” was the last thing you heard before you passed out.

[cialbi]

Boy with Hope: Lavender - Chapter Four

Summary: Severely depressed and addicted to alcohol, you had given up entirely on life. Your passion was gone, your friends had left you and you found yourself completely alone. As you closed your eyes for the last time, the smell of lavender wafted through your nose and a boy with purple wings appeared above you.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Fantasy

Pairings: Angel Hoseok x Reader

Warnings: Language, Depression, Alcoholism

⤎Previous

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

The smell of citrus had you blinking your eyes open. It was a familiar smell, comforting. A scent you hadn’t smelled in a long time.

As your vision adjusted and your foggy head cleared, you noticed a display of stick-on stars plastered to the ceiling, glowing faintly against the autumn colored sunlight. You’d put them on almost every inch of your childhood bedroom when you were ten. Living in the city, stars were a rare sight, so you had concluded that this way, every night would be a starry one.

You sat up, knees hugged to your chest. A Disney princess blanket was draped over your lower half and ruffled pink pillows supported you comfortably as you leaned back against the headboard of your childhood bed. Looking around made you feel nostalgic, happy even. Seeing the array of stuffed animals that surrounded you and the zoetrope on your white wooden nightstand left a warm feeling in your gut. But something poked at your brain, telling you something was not right.

‘How did I get here?’ You wondered, though the thought felt distant, unimportant.

Before you could dwell on it, there was a knock at your door. “Y/N, can I come in?” That voice. You knew that voice.

“Yes, come in.” You said, almost automatically.

The door creaked open and the curly brown head of your mom poked in from behind. “Hi there sleepyhead, how are you feeling? I brought you some dinner.”

How were you feeling? “Um.. fine, I think?”

Your mom gave a soft laugh, entering your room with a tray of her special spaghetti and a tall glass of water. She placed the delicious smelling food on your nightstand before taking a seat beside you on the bed and reaching to place a hand on your forehead.

“Hmm… you’re still a little warm.” She confirmed. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Scrunching your brow, you tried to think about how you’re feeling, but all that comes up is a groggy mush and that irking in your tummy. An irking that this is an unusual situation and you’re not supposed to be here.

“Well…” You started. “I don’t feel sick.”

She smiled, her pale pink lipstick looking like a flower petal. “That’s good to hear. You really had us worried.”

Looking at your mom was surreal. It had been so long since you’d seen her face; her beautiful, soothing face that always put your mind at ease. On many occasions she’d been your support, held your hair back as you vomited from the overindulgence of alcohol. She’d scraped you off the steps of your house and helped you bathe away the sweat and barf in your hair. She had held you close as you cried from the pain of intoxication, and nursed you the next day with lots of water, alka seltzer and tums. She’d done so much for you, and in return all you did was fall deeper into the hole you were digging. And as you looked at every line of her face and her softly applied makeup, you couldn’t help but pull her into a hug.

“What’s this?” She giggled, hugging you back.

“Im sorry, mom.” You murmured, your voice muffled by her wool sweater.

“Oh, honey.” Ever so softly, she began to rub your back, something she did whenever you were distressed. It was soothing, familiar, and full of love. You couldn’t help but cry.

“I’m so sorry.” You blubbered, burying your face further into her shoulder.

“You should be.” The tone of her voice suddenly changed.

You blinked. ‘What?’  

That irking feeling began to scream as your mom’s grip tightened. The digging of her nails burned your flesh and had you yelp in pain.

“Mom what are you doing? Stop!” Wriggling, you tried to break free but she was too strong. When did she get that strong?

She laughed. Not the kind hearted laugh like before, but a morbid laugh that sent a chill down your spine. Nuzzling your neck, her lips ghosted your ear. “You’re a disappointment.”

Your eyes widened, tears spilling down your cheeks at the comment. Your mom had always expressed her concerns for you, her doubts and sadnesses, but she had never said anything so cruel before.

There was a tiny tickle on your cheek. With surprise, you used all your strength to pull yourself away from her chest only to see the woman you loved most crawling with cockroaches. Screaming, you scooched back against the wall and away from her. ‘Not this again. Please, not this again.’

Your mom didn’t move, sitting there with a deep frown on her lips. “How were we so unlucky to have a daughter like you?” She scowled.

Whimpering, you cried “Mom! I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry? You’re always sorry, but you never change. You can never change!” She grabbed your shoulders, fingernails piercing your flesh. You shriek in agony. There was a chirping noise as the cockroaches began to flood the room and creep their way up onto your bed. You bit your lip, sobs leaking out of your mouth. Shaking you, your mom growled. “You’ll never change! You’ll never change!”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” You repeated.

The chirping noise grew louder as the roaches overtook your arms, little legs writhing like snakes against your skin. You screamed again, trying to free yourself from her death grip but failing miserably. As you struggled, your mom relinquished one hand, only  to grab your forehead in another strong hold. You gasped as she began to smash your head against the wall.

“Die!” She raged.

“Stop!” You cried. Your scalp became wet as  blood trickled down your neck. “Please stop mom!”

“Die already!” Her eyes flashed red, her flower petal lips pulled back in a horrifying snarl. “Just die! Just die!”

Just.

DIE!

Your eyes shot open, the sight of your ceiling fan welcomed you with gentle blows of cool air. ‘Ugh. Just a dream.’ You groaned aloud and flopped your arms across your face in exhaustion.

“So, Sleeping Beauty finally wakes.”

You sat up abruptly to see the black-haired man from the hallway sitting in your desk chair with his legs apart and hands folded neatly in his lap. There’s a clear smirk on his striking face as he eyed you in amusement.

“You… what the fuck are you--” The throbbing in your head cut you off. You put a hand to your forehead and breathed deeply, sweat soaking through your shirt.

“I take it you didn’t sleep well?” He quipped, the look on his face made you want to smack him.

Ignoring him, you rubbed your temples and swallowed thickly. Your mouth was dry and there was an irrevocable thirst that itched in your throat.“Wh-um--what the hell happened?”

He adjusted himself, leaning back against the chair and crossed his arms over his chest before extending a ringed finger to point at your bedside table. “Water’s over there.”

You looked to where he pointed, and sure enough there was a tall glass of water and two tablets of Advil just beckoning for you to claim them. Your muscles groaned as you reached for them, swallowing the tablets first and then finishing it off with desperate gulps of water. When you finished, you placed the empty glass back on the table and wiped at your lips.

The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow at your eagerness. “Better?”

You coughed, choking a little on some spit. “Um.. yeah. Thanks.”

His pretty lips tugged into a sneer, a suitable expression for his intimidating appearance. “Don’t thank me.”

An awkward silence flew between you two. You looked at your hands and pinched at your wrist, not daring to meet the scary angel-man’s boring stare. At least you assumed he was an angel too, since he seemed to be Hoseok’s friend. And he had one of those silver crosses. But you would not at all be surprised if he turned out to be the devil's incarnate.

“So.” His voice broke the silence, startling you to look up at him. His chin was angled so that his lashes cascaded a shadow down his cheekbone, making him look even more beautiful and even more frightening. “What do you remember?”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts. Your head was fuzzy, but you could faintly remember running barefoot like a maniac all the way to Martin’s Liquor. “Did I…?

“Drink?” He snorted, leaning forward to rest his chin on top of his folded hands. “No. But you did cause one hell of a shitstorm princess.”

You furrowed your brows quizzically. “What do you mean?”

The dark-haired man cracked a smile. Not a cheerful, warm and fuzzy smile like Hoseoks. The kind that makes you feel like the whole world is in on a joke about you. “Went absolutely bananas. Destroyed half a liquor store. Almost killed a guy. Any of that ring a bell?”

Your eyes widened and before you knew what you were saying, the words started to tumble out. “That wasn’t my fault! I was being attacked. They were everywhere, those… those…” You gasped, finally remembering everything. “Cockroaches.” Shifting your position, you were now completely facing him, eyes almost pleading. “You have to believe me. They were there. It wasn’t a hallucination, I swear.”

“Oh I believe you, sweetheart.” He licked his lips, eyes rolling to look at the ceiling in a bored sort of interest.

“You.. you do?” You leaned forward eagerly.

The angel brought his head back down to level with yours. His expression was unreadable. “I believe you thought they were there.”

Your jaw clenched. “So you think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re sane.” He said matter of factly.

On top of being terrifying, this guy was a colossal jerk. Tears started to well in your eyes. You felt frustrated. You knew what you saw. But none of the other store clerks had seen it. Could you really be crazy? After everything you put yourself through, have you officially snapped? You were obviously seeing things that no one else could see. You trashed a store and, like the angel said, nearly killed a guy. The friendly, freckled face of the store clerk, soaked in blood flashed through your mind. A deep pang of guilt stabbed through your heart.

“That guy… is he ok?” The shame made you stare at the floor as you begged the question.

The dark-haired man sighed. “He’s fine. Hoseok took care of everything.” The dubious look you shot him made him sigh again. “With magic. He took away their memory and healed that guy you shoved. You don’t have to worry about a lawsuit anymore. All they’ll think is that the store was trashed by a crazy robber, or something like that.”

“Oh…” Was all you could say in response.

“That’s it?” He raised a brow. “No questions?”

You shook your head.

You should be asking more questions. This whole thing was utterly perplexing. Magic? Erasing memories? You knew about the healing, but it still caught you off guard. You should be freaking out, or running out the door again. But you had no energy left and you felt like you were going crazy. So you slumped back against the wall and allowed more tears to fall.

“Oh god. I’m completely insane.” You whimpered, lip quivering.

The dark-haired man fished out a pack of cigarettes followed by a silver lighter. He stuck the cancer stick between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag and exhaling deeply. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Ok that’s enough.” A stern voice called.

Hoseok appeared from behind your kitchen door. He was holding a plate of steaming food and a glass of orange juice. His eyes were fixed with a warning stare which he directed towards his stoic friend. With a tut, he made his way over to your bedside and placed the food in your lap and the OJ in your hands. You sniffed, wiping away the tear stains and taking a little sip.

“Yoongi-hyung.” His voice softened but remained firm. “You can’t say things like that to her.” He turned his attention back to you. “Don’t mind him, love. He’s an incurable asshole.” You heard a grunt of disapproval. “Here, eat something. You must be starving.”

It felt like a millennia since you last ate, but as you looked down at the nicely prepared pancakes, you couldn’t find it in yourself to eat. Instead, you avert your eyes to the two men who are now seated side by side, with Hoseok seated criss-crossed on the floor and Yoongi still comfortably reclined in your desk chair.

They both stared at you in intense silence, as if you’d explode if one of them dared to move. You looked once more at the food, then back at them. A new found frustration boiled in your veins. How in the hell did they expect you to eat now? The entire situation was bananas, you felt bananas. And despite your exhaustion, you now had questions and a burning desire for some sort of emotional release.

“I’m sorry.” You started. Biting back the hostility in your voice, you slid the food off your lap and placed the OJ on your nightstand. “You have to forgive me. It’s been--well it’s been quite the day. First, some strange man breaks into my apartment, claiming to be an angell and heals me with his bare hands. And then, would you know it, sprouts enormous purple wings. Ok yeah, that’s weird. But then his moody, outcast-wannabe friend appears out of nowhere, tries to grab me--”

“Moody outcast? Is that me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m the strange man with purple wings.”

“--and basically calls me crazy.” You continued, throwing them a ‘shut-up and don’t interrupt me' glare. “I see hundreds--no thousands--of disgusting mother-fucking cockroaches trying to flipping eat me, but no one else seems to see that. Instead I’m just this batshit-bonker balls lady who almost killed a guy and probably backrupted an entire store. Than this brooding asshole--”

“Yoongi.”

“--I don’t care. Tells me you--” You throw your arms up at Hoseok. “--apparently erased their memories, and used your magic-hands to heal that poor guy, which still sounds ridiculous. So please. Forgive me for asking. But just what in God’s fucking name is going on here and should I check myself for a psych-eval now or just wait until I actually kill someone. Because honestly, I still have no fucking idea if this is all in my head, or am I really--am I really standing here, venting my life problems to two of the lords chosen ones who have been the entire center of this loony-tunes day.” You take a deep breath, regaining all the lost oxygen you have just spent on your tirade, and turn to face the dumbfounded expressions of angel-dee and angel-dumb. “So now, I’m going to be quiet, and hope that for heaven’s sake, one of you will explain.”

“Uh…” Yoongi was the first to speak up. Not breaking eye contact with you, the dark-haired angel slapped a hand across Hoseok’s shoulder. “Wow man. Good luck with this one.”

Hoseok blinked in disbelief, like he doesn’t know where to begin. “Uhm… demons.”

Now it’s your turn to blink in disbelief. “Guzuntight?”

Blinking a few more times, Hoseok seemed to regain his composure. “Yes. Those were demons.”

“I’m sorry, demons? I thought you guys were angels.” You narrowed your eyes at Yoongi. “Except maybe this one.”

Yoongi returned your glare with sparks flying between you two. “He means the cockroaches.” He explained, sliding back into his collected demeanor.

“Wait.” You wiggled a finger next to your head as if the motion could somehow translate english to english. “The cockroaches… are… demons? Demons?”

Hoseok cleared his throat, preparing for a long explanation. “Yes. Well… sort of.” The ‘I-do-not-follow’ look on your face urged him to continue. “Let me put it this way.” He stood and held out a hand, palm facing up. A single glowing orb generated from his hand and hovered inches in the air. You gasped, because despite everything you’d seen today, you were still not used to this who magic-thing. “Every human has a soul. Bright, hopeful, full of light.” He said. “But when that soul is shrouded in darkness, it invites demons to come and manipulate that soul until there is no light left.” As he said this, the orb’s glow gradually dimmed until it was completely gone.”Our job as angels is to protect these particular souls and help them to find their light again, so that it doesn't disappear and leave the human empty.”  

You nod. This all sounds completely bonker-balls, and you’re not entirely following, but you decide to probe further. “So… those cockroaches were demons… coming after my… my soul?”

Hoseok grinned, squinty eyes twinkling as you were finally putting it together. “Yes!”

Demons coming after your soul. Not the most illogical thing you’ve heard today. “Ok, but wait. Why haven’t I seen them before?”

There was a pause. Hoseok’s eye-smile dropping, lips dipping into a said frown. “You tried to kill yourself.”  At the same time, all three of you lowered your gazes to the floor. Another moment of silence passed before Hoseok continued. “That’s when the soul is almost completely consumed by the darkness.”

You bit your lip. “So then I’m…”

“No! Don’t worry. Before I could let that happen to you, I brought you back.” The orange-haired angel assured you. “It’s just now… everytime you reach out for that darkness… it’s like a perfume for demons. They’re attracted to that scent of humans giving into their… well… personal demons. They take on your worst fear and use that fear to devour you. Your soul is still so sunk in black that even the slightest relapse will send them on your tail.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Could you say that in a way I can understand?”

“You drink, you’re demon food.” Yoongi chimed in.

Hoseok’s eyes rolled to the ceiling as he breathed through his nose. “As a manner of speaking.”

You laughed bitterly. “Great.” The one thing your body desperately wants and you couldn’t have it. Because if you do, your soul turns completely black and demons get to eat your innards like spaghetti.

“Think of it like a cockblock. Don’t drink and the demons won’t bother you. Simple.” Yoongi affirmed, giving you a solid thumbs up which made you groan. Hoseok was right. Incurable asshole.

“Well no. It’s not that simple.” Hoseok smacked his friend’s leg. “We need to find a way to bring back that light in your life. And until then, I’m here to stay.

You frowned. You almost thought it was better when he was just a psycho on the loose. Because having a legitimate messenger of God all up in your business was way too much pressure. And to be frank, kind of scary. “And for how long?”

Hoseok scuttled over to take a seat next to you. “See this?” He tugged at the cross around his neck and presented it to your line of vision. He tapped softly next to an onyx jewel embedded in the middle. His gorgeous face beamed with excitement. “This is your soul… well a representation of it. When this completely turns white, then I’ve completed my mission and I’m out of your hair. I swear.”

Looking over to Yoongi, you eyed his necklace which also had an onyx jewel in the center of his cross. The dark-haired angel followed your gaze and looked down too. Then suddenly he stood up.

“And with that, I’m outta here.” He said plainly. “Got my own business to attend to.”

“Still haven't found her, hyung?” Hoseok asked his friend.

Yoongi sighed, a ghost of a sad smile on his lips, which surprised you to see any sort of emotion from him. “She’s a tough one to find.”

Before you could ask what they’re talking about, Yoongi made his way to your window, opening the latch and raising the pane all the way up. He perched like a hawk about to take off, the glowing autumn light casting a lovely glow against his porcelain skin.

“Hey!” You yelled, jumping to your feet but not daring to move.

“Don’t worry princess. They may not be purple, but they’re just as big and just as strong.” He said, sending you a little wink.

Your mouth opened and closed, wondering what he meant until two huge black wings burst from his back. They beat a couple of times to adjust themselves, sending a soft current of wind against your face.

“Oh my God.” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yoongi chuckled melodically, a beautiful sound you never thought his snarky lips could make. “Not quite.”

“Let me know when you find her, hyung!” Hoseok shouted after the dark-haired man as he leapt from the window and disappeared from sight.

Your head began to spin as yet another unbelievable thing just happened today. As you sat back down on your bed, you turned to look at Hoseok, trying to find any words. But all that could come out was, “Can’t you guys just use the friggin’ door?”

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A/N 

Again, pretty much unedited. Will go back later to edit. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! 

Cial