#while I wept on stage and he looked at me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

haenypages · 1 year ago

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A Heart Of Steel

Assassin! Lucerys Velaryon x Targaryen! Reader

Summary: Before the incident, Lucerys and the youngest daughter of Viserys & Alicent were secretly dating. Now he has come to seek revenge upon her, thinking she was the cause of his near death.

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: blood, fluff, angst, minor spoilers of Aegon & Aemond in S2 based on the book

Reader's POV

It was all a misunderstanding. I did not expose nor betray Lucerys' location to Aemond. I have no notion of how he ended up alive and the fact that he joined an assassin guild to learn the ways of killing just to take avenge for himself.

I wept for him everyday thinking that he was dead in the hands of my brother, or rather his dragon until this very moment, after nearly one year in which The Dance of the Dragons has entered into an intense stage.

This is definitely not the Lucerys Velaryon I've known. The sweet dragon prince as if straight out of the folk tales was gone. It was the hour of the wolf. I'm heading back to my bedchamber in the Red Keep when I saw a figure in a shadowy corner, another figure that I reckoned a sentinel lying on the bloodstained floor, motionless. Dead.

The hooded figure slowly approached from the shadow and abruptly I gaped in disbelief, not trusting the face I saw under the hood. "Luke." I whispered, knowing him from his scent and form although his gait has changed from stiff to seemingly nonchalant.

I wanted to run to him, embrace him until I saw a glint of iron in one hand and an impassive face. "What are you doing here?" I involuntarily backed a step. Silence. No response. His slow creeping started to turn into a walk. That's when my mind tells me to flee, so I did what it's told.

"I'm going to kill you, dārilaros (princess)!" he said without preamble. He ran after me. "What why- I don't understand!" Panting heavily, trying to find anyone in the hallway for help while trying to further the gap between Luke. "You knew exactly why! You'd told Aemond that I'm at Storm's End."

Luke acquired a throwing knife from the inside of his boots. It whistled past me, making a gash at my arm, blood trickled from it. I resorted to yelling since there was no one I could see, my sprint slowed gradually and he was increasing.

He's closing our gap! I'm about to veer around another corridor until I feel a hand clasping around my wrist firmly and another clamping over my mouth. My screams were muffled. Without thinking, I bit into the hand that covers my mouth, drawing droplets of blood.

The hand let go, the dagger releasing an audible clunk when it hits the stone floor. Lucerys hissed in frustration. The sound has drawn its attention. Voices! Footsteps! Someone is coming this way!

"HEL-" Lucerys pushed me against the wall, causing me a concussion before I could fully utter the words. Stars were forming. My head, shoulders, and back were in agony. The knife was back in his hands and immediately at my throat, drawing a thin line of blood. I struggled feebly in his grip, feeling helpless. "Please Luke, this is a mistake." I looked into his eyes one last time before the world around me went black.

Luke's POV

She slumped into me after she passed out. I carried the unconscious y/n away with me before the night patrol could investigate what had happened. For the present, they had interrupted my attempt at assassination. I searched for her chamber that we had our fun times together in the past. Seven be damned! Stop dwelling on those memories!

Winding through the familiar corridors, I finally found the quarter I am looking for. I unlatched the door with my nimble fingers, hinges creaking. After I was certain that the door was shut securely, I placed her on the bed. Binding her wrists together at one of the bedposts with hempen ropes and gagging her mouth.

I have made the decision of interrogating her when she's awake, giving her a chance. My current self may be ruthless, but there is still a tidbit of kindness in me that has been cultivated by my family, the family that thought I was dead and mourned for me.

I went to her bookshelf straight away, knowing well this is where her mind often wanders into, as well as mine. She was always intrigued by the stories of the dragonlords of Valyria before the Doom.

She once requested that I read to her more frequently from books and scrolls because she enjoys my Valyrian accent, therefore I did mostly each day just to lull her to sleep with my soothing voice. Unfortunately, that is not happening again. She broke my heart.

I skimmed through the pages, missing the smell of papers and inks. Books are barely seen in the assassin guild since weapons were the only thing we would require. After some more skimming, the groaning from the bed eventually distracted my attention. Immediately, I put the book down on the table. Walking towards her, dagger poised.

She slowly opened her eyes, examining the wounds on her throat and arm as she attempted to break free of the binding before her eyes landed upon mine. For a moment she froze like a frightened animal. My tutor taught me not to trust anyone. Told me that expressions could be a farce for sympathy. So I did not fall for that. But her feelings somehow look true to me.

"Good, you're awake. And no screaming." I took the gag off her and then sat down on the bed beside her. Knife dangerously close to her cheeks, then tracing her cheekbones with an air of disinterest as possible. She gulped.

"So tell me, how does Aemond know of my whereabouts? You're the only Green who knew I'm heading for Storm's End trying to make an alliance on my mother's behalf." I intoned, eyebrows furrowed. She began stammering for a second and eventually calmed down a little. "It was Aemond. Before I had the opportunity to take the parchment from the raven, he took it first." I frowned at her, she averted her gaze, looking at her lap and fidgeting with her fingers. "I should have locked the door. I never thought he'd sneak into my room. I'm so sorry." My heart softened without my mind's consent.

I am still hesitating about the things she confessed to me. It was just words. How could I trust mere words? At the mention of Aemond, my uncertainty was briefly replaced by an inevitable rage. I'd heard that he's come back from the raids at the Riverlands to continue his rule as regent. It was said that after the battle of Rook's Rest, following Aegon's disappearance, Aemond was named as regent of the Seven Kingdoms.

"I'll deal with you later when I finish that kinslayer." I announced, walking to the door. At the same time, I unsheathed the sword at my hip, checking the sharpness. I nodded with satisfaction.

"You can't just leave me here being tied up! You can't find Aemond without my guidance anyways." She pleaded. I stopped abruptly, knowing it was true. I needed her guidance to seek Aemond before dawn. I rolled my eyes and went back to her, loosened the ropes to the bedpost, and gripped both of her wrists, pushing her along as a signal to stride in front of me. Then we were out of the chamber.

Reader's POV

Whenever I walked slowly, Lucerys would thrust the tip of his blade into my back. I winced, not believing he would truly do this to me. I did not hesitate to go to the throne room first. Aemond may be sleeping in his bedchamber at this hour, but he's infatuated with the Iron Throne lately. Luke would stay alert and call for a halt to hide whenever he senses someone was around.

I led him down a series of spiral stairs, out of the holdfast, through a bridge, walking by courtyards, and eventually reaching the building in which the throne room was situated. "There's two sentinels in there guarding the hallway, I hope you're ready." I turned to look at him, expecting to see an anxious face. But instead, he looks prepared for the upcoming predicament. The doors were ajar so we sneaked into it.

Before the guards could take out their swords from the scabbards, Luke hurled a throwing knife into one of them. Hitting him in the ribs. The other one rushed to Luke, their blades collided together making sparks. After a few more exchanges, Luke found a chink in his armour and strike hard and fast. The guard collapsed.

"What is all the commotion?" The double doors to the throne room flew open, revealing my uncle Gwayne Hightower and the other kingsguards. How can Lucerys defeat them! He's doomed. "Uncle!" Walking to him but Lucerys pulled me back, placing me right in front of him while the sword he was holding raised to my throat defensively making me his hostage. Swords were drawn out.

"Sheathe the steel or I'll kill her." Luke said. They all gave each other apprehensive glances before taking a few steps back. But not my uncle who stood at the doorway. "Ah, aren't you Rhaenyra's boy? This is hardly an act of reverence for the princess, lad." The two of them stare intensely at each other until Luke breaks the staring contest. "It would please me if I could see the regent." For my sake, my uncle moved from his spot at the doorway and led us into the room with a high ceiling.

Luke's POV

Aemond was sitting upon the throne, legs dangled from one of its arms. A few of the council members were there discussing important matters with him. The discussion stopped when we arrived. My presence seemed to leave Aemond totally dumbstruck. Good.

"Nephew, did the Seven send you back to me? You should put that pointy thing away from my sister by the way." y/n casted me a side eye. Aemond grinned a mirthless grin, there was no true joy in it. "The gods have sent me back for vengeance, uncle." I said with an emotionless mien. "Ah yes, I hope the skills you've been honing were worthy of a vengeance. How can I assist you, my dear nephew?" Obviously teasing about my skills in arms.

"I demand a court of swords. A fight to the death." Everybody in the room tensed. "What." Aemond's face twitched. y/n shifted in my grasp uncomfortably. "You and me. No one else. If I kill you, you'll die. If you kill me, you'll get y/n." Making my point clear. Aemond stood up from his seat and started pacing back and forth, pretending to be considering my request. He stopped his pacing. "Deal." His head snapped to me, giving me a murderous look.

While he slowly walks down from the dais, away from his precious throne, one of the kingsguard escorted y/n away from me. She gave me a tight squeeze of my hand before I let go of her wrists, unsure what it meant. Good luck? Aemond is too good for you? The others walked away from the center, making space for the fight. We came face to face at the center, staring at each other from opposite sides.

"Any last words?" The regent chuckled. "Go to seven hells." I replied. I heard y/n coughed. Within a dozen heartbeats, Aemond's sword came down from above. I blocked the overhead strike that will likely deeply injure me if I didn't deflect it. After a series of attacks, Aemond scowled. Not expecting that I'm still standing. Smiling, a new surge of energy coursed through my body. I fight my way for vengeance.

Reader's POV

I stand in one corner, witnessing the scene unfolding before me. One is my brother. One is my lover. I didn't want to lose either of them. Lucerys seems to be under control, attacking and counterattacking the whole time. He suddenly slipped into Aemond's guard and a thin line formed at my brother's thigh. Blood dripped from it.

Brother looked up from his injured thigh and started bombarding a whirlwind of attacks toward Luke. Anger rose within him. Luke tried to parry all the blows but one had slashed him across his shoulder, causing him to stagger. Aemond continued his furious assaults without giving Luke a moment of respite. I can see the energy that seems to course through him was gradually seeping away.

Before he can regain his previous confidence, Aemond sliced another cut at his sword arm. He swung his sword desperately at Aemond, trying to do some damage to my brother to no avail. His sword arm was injured. He can't fight. He's faltering. I need to do something.

My brother raised his sword, ready to strike diagonally at Luke. For a second, Luke gripped his sword two-handed, trying to heft it. It lifted, but I know that it won't make it in time to deflect the upcoming blow. I am aware of the amount of force Aemond is building up for that specific attack.

Before the sword landed upon Luke, I hurtled myself towards the fighting ground. I heard my uncle yelling. And then the kingsguards and councilors. My back facing Aemond, the blade came down from above and slashed a long cut across my back. I dropped to one knee and yelped.

Three wounds in one night. Given by two people I love. The boys' eyes widened at the sight. The fighting ceased, Aemond was transfixed by the affliction he caused upon me. "Please, I beg both of you to end this feud." I said. Elsewhere I heard my uncle ordering someone to summon a maester.

The once sweet boy came to me, swords trailing behind him. He dropped to the floor beside me, putting his sword down and arms wrapping around me. "Why?" He said, his eyes brimming with tears, but he forced it not to pour out. "Se ra gaoman syt jorrāelagon (The things I do for love)" I beamed weakly.

Then tears fell from his face, dropping into mine. He pressed his forehead against mine. His curly hair prickled me, but I didn't care much about that. I miss his hugs. I can feel the wetness soaking my back. I can get a whiff of the metallic tang of blood. I am exhausted. I fell asleep in the arms of Lucerys Velaryon.

Epilogue (Reader's POV)

I opened my eyes groggily, looking around my bedchamber. Sunlight filtered through the window filling the room with warmth. Luke sat on the bed. I used my elbow to raise myself into a sitting position, he gave me some assistance. I can feel the bandages wrapped around my torso, probably done by the maester.

We stared at each other for a long moment before he smiled. He smiled! Such a wondrous thing! After that, he gave me a gentle peck on the lips, which I did not expect. A faint blush materialized on my cheeks and he indulged in that.

He told me of Arrax's sacrifice, how he was rescued by a fisher family from the shore, his life after he joined the assassin guild, and how he didn't reacquaint himself with his family and watched them from afar whenever he was at Dragonstone. He does love his family. I listened to him intently.

He told me that he would leave me soon, that this is no place for an assassin. "We could fake my death. I want to be with you, away from war and court intrigues. Kill me." I demanded. Lucerys smirked.

#lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x y/n #lucerys velaryon #hotd fic #hotd x reader #lucerys velaryon one shot #hotd one shot #lucerys velaryon imagine

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dionysia-ta-astika · 9 months ago

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LARPing

I was accused of LARPing again. I get accused of LARPing, and of hubris, by people who see that I don't worship the gods properly, so I must not take them seriously. I am told that I have not been initiated. That the gods will strike me down, and put me in my place and then I'll be sorry. And I was sorry. I wept.

You kicked down the door with a big box of costumes, painted green with gold clasps. And you sat atop it with a winning smile. You asked me, “What shall we play? “Let's play pirates, and ride on the high seas, and turn the sailors into dolphins. “Let's play wizards, knights and castles. Grab your sword, and your armor, and your book of spells, and we'll save a princess from a dragon. “Let's slay Medusa, like you did once when you were seven, using your fairy princess wand as a sword, swinging it by the star until it broke. “You were Perseus, then. You climbed on Pegasus' back, and he took you to Olympus, where we, your siblings, waited for you.”

I asked, “Why wasn't I struck down like Bellerophon?”

And you said, “There's a big difference between being invited, and kicking down the door claiming you deserve to be there.”

I look at the box and I say, “I want to play Shaman.”

I know how problematic that is. I know that shamans are spiritual leaders from Siberia I know how insulting it is for a colonizer like me to imitate Native Americans as a childish game, Dressing up in fur and feathers like a bad Halloween costume And listening to New Agey "tribal" music While I dance around an altar that I built out of feathers and rocks and other natural talismans I'd collected and little figures of deer and elephants and leopard-print scarves spread under a fake plastic campfire that burned in the center of it all.

But I remember how it felt. It felt powerful. It felt ancient.

You smile and say, “It was powerful, and it was ancient. “You were not imitating any real indigenous rituals, except to burn sage and call it "smudging." “Everything else was your own. It was your ritual. A child, reaching back, back through the mists of time “To find the oldest ritual in the book. “Before there was theatre, there was LARPing. “Before there was writing, there was dance.”

And I said, “Lord of Dappled Pelts, give me that feeling back.” You open the box. Inside are fawnskins and leopard skins, feathers, bones, animal skulls, Rough-hewn masks, with empty staring eyes, as primeval as the soil. You put a horned mask on my face, and dress me in furs, and braid feathers into my hair and put a necklace of bones around my neck that rattles with every step. Before there was theater, there was LARPing. There was the shaman, in their animal mask, behaving as the animal does, dancing round and round the ritual fire until they don't know the difference between man and beast, real and unreal, day and night. And you are there, where you've always been, in the dance. Casting the illusion over our eyes. The mask is a glamour, the stage, a farce. Storytelling itself, an enchantment cast over an audience as they watch and listen, enraptured, fully believing what they feel and see. It is old magic. I found my gods by LARPing. I put on a white sheet, like a makeshift peplos, and made an olive crown out of pipe cleaners and construction paper and gold glitter and I drank nothing but white grape juice, the blood of the vine, and pretended it was ambrosia, and it was. I threw my paper leaves and thought the gods were listening, and they were. Back then, I didn't ask whether they were real or not, or whether what I was doing was historically accurate or not, or whether I was guilty of hubris for pretending that I, too, was a god. You and I dance around our ritual fire decorated with stones, and feathers, and figurines grapevines, pinecones, and phallic objects and other fetishes, wearing our pelts and our animal masks. I lose my name, my face, my gender. I am made and unmade. In the primeval woods, in a time before the dawn of civilization, industry, writing, art, theatre religion, liturgy, sacrifice, humanity itself, we were LARPing.

#poetry

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checkoutmybookshelf · 8 months ago

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Ok, it's no surprise that I deeply enjoy Much Ado About Nothing as a play (and there are some truly delightful film and filmed staged productions), and there's a lot of talk about the scene between Beatrice and Benedick after Hero and Claudio's aborted wedding (Act IV, scene i).

What I don't see a lot of though, is how Benedick literally accidentally talks Beatrice into asking him to kill Claudio.

Yeah, Beatrice didn't walk into that scene ready to ask BENEDICK to make this right. Let's walk through the lesser-quoted lines from this scene.

We all know the iconic, "Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while," but then we get this little exchange:

Benedick. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. Beatrice. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! Benedick. Is there any way to show such friendship? Beatrice. A very even way, but no such friend. Benedick. May a man do it? Beatrice. It is a man's office, but not yours.

Benedick asking if a man may do "it" is a blatant offer to try to fix things, but it's pretty damn clear at this point in the text that he has big-ass heart eyes and hasn't thought this offer through, because the way to right Hero is to either get Claudio to recant--which he's not going to do because that is going to make him look like an absolute dingus and it will embarrass Don Pedro--or else to kill him in a duel. To ask a man to kill his best friend--even if that best friend is a complete and utter chungus--is cruel. It is one thing to call a friend out for being a dick to Hero, but to ask for Benedick's to be the hand that kills Claudio is a whole other level that Beatrice is going out of her way to excuse him from.

She is explicitly--and correctly, frankly, given the chains of command and power dynamics involved--excusing Benedick from being responsible for Claudio's behavior and correction. And while yes, part of dismantling the patriarchy is men holding each other accountable, murder is not accountability, it's the beginning of a goddamn blood feud. So Beatrice is over here very subtly going "You have clearly not thought this offer through, and I'm not going to ask you to kill your best friend." It is not his office.

And rather than hearing what Beatrice is saying, Benedick goes and MAKES IT HIS OFFICE by declaring his love for Beatrice. Which like...aside from this being not the moment, it just makes it even clearer that Benedick is not actually listening to Beatrice here. His focus is on her, but Beatrice is razor-focused on Hero and the fact that Claudio just more or less ended Hero's life. But here's the other thing.

I subscribe to the "Beatrice and Benedick had a prior relationship before the play and it ended badly" theory, because I think it explains a lot about their dynamics. But that also makes this scene a little bit risky and pointed. Because yeah, while Beatrice warns him not to swear he loves her and then eat his words, if they have a history, then her "Kill Claudio" is not just a request. It's a test.

He already didn't choose her once, presumably for way lower-stakes reasons. So to ask him to choose her, to be on her side, with all of what that means, is a test of a possible new relationship. And it's one Benedict comes perilously close to failing, because of course he's not going to kill his best friend and brother-in-arms.

And just like that, Beatrice is out, because Benedick "dare easier be friends with [her] than fight with [her] enemy." His choice is not her, and she will not be anyone's second choice. Especially given that choosing Claudio means that Benedick is engaging in the infuriating mental gymnastics where Hero can have been done badly wrong, but Claudio somehow isn't Hero and Beatrice's enemy.

This is not a complicated situation; Claudio was absolutely in the wrong, caused harm, and needs to be called on the goddamn carpet for it, and Benedick is over here trying to "both sides" it. I'd have been out too, and then he has the nerve to insist that he and Beatrice be friends before she's allowed to leave the stage! I adore that she then full-on goes off on him, and every single time Benedick tries to get a word in edgewise, Beatrice comes up with another argument and just cuts his ass off. There is no "letting him explain," there is no "I'm just playing devil's advocate," there is no "trust me, I know Claudio." There is only the facts of what happened, and Beatrice hammering them directly into Benedick's head. Lots of productions cut out the attempted interruptions by Benedick in favor of letting Beatrice run with a monologue, but if you look at the text, he tries FOUR SEPARATE TIMES to interrupt her.

But Beatrice just steamrolls on, and the thing is, it works.

Beatrice hits and refutes key arguments that we can just imagine Benedick bringing up. The bullshit logic of him being in a romantic relationship with Beatrice while supporting Claudio's actions. The undeniable public slander of Hero. The bullshit that is slut-shaming and measuring a woman's worth by her virginity. The divide between an "ideal" manhood and the reality of men's behavior. The nonsense that is how easily men are valorized for slandering women. Every point brought up and thrown in Benedick's face until he is left with only one final question; the only possible question that could matter at the end of this scene:

Benedick. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?

And Beatrice is very, very sure. Which ultimately is enough for Benedick to choose her, and agree that yeah, Claudio needs to be called out and corrected, and he is now on board with taking that responsibility.

It is kind of wild to me that this scene begins with Beatrice trying to protect Benedick from the reality of the situation, and insisting that if he wants to be in love with her, if he wants to be in her life again, then this time he has to choose her for all that that means. And as Beatrice makes clear, what that means is a disruption--if brief--of the patriarchy and the status quo. Being with Beatrice means that Benedick has to stop being the prince's jester and stand against toxic masculinity and harmful patriarchy in a real, concrete way.

It's Shakespeare, so that doesn't stick beyond the happy ending, but it is here, and Beatrice really said "if you want to be with me, you have to stand with and for me and the women around me" when it was clear Benedick wasn't taking no for an answer.

#much ado about nothing #william shakespeare #beatrice and benedick

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nyxshadowhawk · 11 months ago

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The Rural Dionysia submissions inspired me to attempt some poetry:

LARPing

I asked, “Why wasn't I struck down like Bellerophon?”

And you said, “There's a big difference between being invited, and kicking down the door claiming you deserve to be there.”

I look at the box and I say, “I want to play Shaman.”

But I remember how it felt. It felt powerful. It felt ancient.

And I said, “Lord of Dappled Pelts, give me that feeling back.”

You open the box. Inside are fawnskins and leopard skins, feathers, bones, animal skulls, Rough-hewn masks, with empty staring eyes, as primeval as the soil. You put a horned mask on my face, and dress me in furs, and braid feathers into my hair and put a necklace of bones around my neck that rattles with every step. Before there was theater, there was LARPing. There was the shaman, in their animal mask, behaving as the animal does, dancing round and round the ritual fire until they don't know the difference between man and beast, real and unreal, day and night. And you are there, where you've always been, in the dance. Casting the illusion over our eyes. The mask is a glamour, the stage, a farce. Storytelling itself, an enchantment cast over an audience as they watch and listen, enraptured, fully believing what they feel and see. It is old magic.

I found my gods by LARPing. I put on a white sheet, like a makeshift peplos, and made an olive crown out of pipe cleaners and construction paper and gold glitter and I drank nothing but white grape juice, the blood of the vine, and pretended it was ambrosia, and it was. I threw my paper leaves and thought the gods were listening, and they were. Back then, I didn't ask whether they were real or not, or whether what I was doing was historically accurate or not, or whether I was guilty of hubris for pretending that I, too, was a god.

You and I dance around our ritual fire decorated with stones, and feathers, and figurines grapevines, pinecones, and phallic objects and other fetishes, wearing our pelts and our animal masks. I lose my name, my face, my gender. I am made and unmade. In the primeval woods, in a time before the dawn of civilization, industry, writing, art, theatre religion, liturgy, sacrifice, humanity itself, we were LARPing.

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archiveikemen · 2 years ago

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Liam Evans Main Story: Chapter 10

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(I don't know Liam’s heart.)

Maybe the star shining on stage wasn't there because he wanted to be, but because I wanted him to be.

== Flashback Start ==

Liam: Hey… want to kill me?

== Flashback End ==

(If she tried to kill him back then… would he have accepted it without hesitation?)

He couldn't have been serious, he just wanted to calm her anger.

I was in a dilemma about whether to believe it was simply to appease her, or to believe that he was serious about letting her kill him.

(There's no way he would…)

Elbert: … Kate?

Kate: … Sir… Sir Elbert.

Elbert: There's no turning back, so don't think so much about it anymore.

Kate: I’m sorry. I was in a daze.

Elbert: …

Elbert: … My special ability is to bring back a person’s most painful memory.

Kate: ? … Yes, I witnessed it earlier.

Elbert: When I first met Liam… Victor advised me…

Elbert’s sorrowful gaze focused on Liam.

Heathcliff (Liam): “... Catherine is dead? Listen, Catherine. Become a ghost… and haunt me.”

Heathcliff (Liam): “Be with me always — take any form — drive me mad!”

Heathcliff (Liam): “Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”

Heathcliff (Liam): “I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

Heathcliff (Liam): “You are my everything… Catherine!”

Elbert: … Not to step on Liam’s shadow.

Kate: Only Liam’s…?

Elbert: Al once told me, “Liam is beautiful”.

Elbert: But…

Elbert: … Liam is beautiful, yet awfully miserable.

Kate: …

Kate: … I… I see.

Soon after Elbert and I returned to our seats in the audience, the story of “Wuthering Heights” came to an end.

After the final line was delivered, the audience fell silent—

Then came a round of thundering applause and loud cheers.

(... It’s a standing ovation.)

Everyone in the audience stood up from their seats and applauded passionately.

The applause grew louder when the actors came back on stage.

Liam: How did you find the “Wuthering Heights” play? Thank you all for coming to our theatre tonight.

At that moment, Marie muttered in a soft voice that was almost drowned out by the cheering.

Marie: The truth is… I already had it all figured out in my mind.

(...?)

Elbert • Harrison: …

Marie: There’s no denying that Liam was the cause of Jacob’s death. … But he didn't do it on purpose.

Marie: I read in one of the letters that… he was very attached to Jacob.

Marie: Jacob is a man with an affectionate heart and strong sense of justice. … It was his own decision to protect Liam.

Marie: … That's the kind of man I fell in love with.

Marie: And yet… I… I couldn't clear my mind… so I resorted to resenting Liam.

Marie: When I did that… it felt so much… so much better.

A single tear fell from her eyes as she looked at Liam.

Marie: I… I want him to live.

Marie: I’m.. I’m glad he’s alive.

(... I can’t console her.)

Matters of the past, the loss of a life, a broken heart — none of those could be undone.

The only thing I could do was hug her while she wept, as if trying to cope with that reality.

I hoped that one day, her open wounds that rooted deep inside her would heal and turn into scars.

Liam made a good decision to overlook Marie’s countless wrongdoings.

Harrison, Elbert, and I had no objections if that was what Liam wanted.

…

I left the theatre to catch a carriage for Marie to go home.

Kate: See you. … Take care.

The gaze in Marie’s puffy eyes softened, and she gave me a small nod.

The coachman shook the reins and off her carriage went.

(... I have to go back to Liam.)

(I’ll tell him that he did a great job, and…)

(What else should I say to him?)

As I searched for the right words to say to Liam, someone tapped my shoulder from behind.

Kate: Liam…?

The person I saw when I turned around was—

…

After the curtains had fallen, the halls of the theatre were filled with audience members who were still in a state of feverish excitement.

Liam: Harry. Sir El.

Harrison: Oh, Liam.

Curly Hair Woman: Look, it's Liam. He looks great off-stage…

Freckles Woman: I wish I could get close enough to smell him. Oh, are the two handsome men next to him actors as well?

Even with guests’ eyes drawn to his looks, Liam’s eyes were frantically searching for Kate.

Liam: Uh… where’s Kate?

Harrison: Kate went to see that lady off.

Elbert: … She isn't back, huh.

Liam: …

Liam: … I’m getting worried. I’ll go look for her.

Liam’s rose coloured hair swayed as he rushed through the waves of people.

Curly Hair Woman: Liam!? Where are you going…?

Freckles Woman: Can we talk to you—

Liam: Thank you, but not right now. Please excuse me.

Something fell at Liam’s feet with a clang.

It was a wooden cane.

Liam swiftly picked it up and offered it to the hooded man next to him—

Liam: Um, is this yours?

The hooded man nodded and took the cane from Liam’s hand.

Liam: Please be careful. Thank you for coming tonight.

Liam said with a nod and immediately continued sprinting towards Kate.

…

Kate: Ugh, let go of me. … Let go!

I was dragged into an alley, and looked up at the men who grabbed me.

When I turned around after someone tapped my shoulder earlier, standing there was — two young men I had never met before.

Without as much as a self-introduction, they simply grabbed me and dragged me into this empty alley.

(... Who knows what they’ll do to me if I get violent. I should try buying myself some time by talking to them.)

I had a tiny bit of hope that someone would notice us and come to my rescue.

Kate: Why did you bring me here…?

Young Man with Piercings: Your stage actor man got handsy with my woman.

(Is he referring to Liam? These guys… they think I’m Liam’s girlfriend.)

Young Man with Piercings: It was definitely my woman who seduced him first. … She’s a big fan of that man.

Young Man with Piercings: That man knew she was taken, and yet he still held her in his arms. … Damn it, that shameless bastard!

Brown Haired Man: Just one night with him was enough to have her absolutely smitten. She ended a 100 year romantic relationship because of him.

Young Man with Piercings: Ggh, don't say anything unnecessary…!

Hearing that he held a woman in his arms caused a dull aching in my chest, and an uncomfortable feeling spread through my heart at the same time.

(“Just one night” means that Liam is no longer in contact with that woman…)

The Liam I knew was affectionate and cherished interpersonal relationships.

It was hard to imagine him doing such a thing.

(Could it be that… Liam held her because “it’s what she wanted”?)

(If it was against Liam’s will…)

Young Man with Piercings: If it weren't for that man… we wouldn't have broken up.

Young Man with Piercings: Therefore, to make him feel the same way I did…

He strengthened his grip on my arm, and it grew tighter and tighter.

Young Man with Piercings: If you’re obedient, I’ll make you feel good… got it?

(... I need to escape.)

The first thing that came to mind was an image of Liam.

(... Liam, save me.)

Kate: Mmph—!

A hand was slapped over my mouth when I tried to scream, muffling my voice.

A dreadful feeling crawled up my back, and I desperately tried to break free, when—

???: … Hey, what are you doing? Let go of that girl.

I looked up when I heard that familiar voice.

Liam was standing there, huffing and puffing.

(... Liam.)

Liam: I don't know what happened, but… give that girl back to me.

With a fearless smile, Liam closed the distance between us with movements as nimble as a cat’s—

Young Man with Piercings: Gguh…!?

He twisted the man’s arm with one hand, and pulled me to his side by the waist with another.

Liam: I kept you waiting, Kate. Are you injur—… ah.

My wrists were grabbed so tightly that there were finger marks on them.

Liam: That’s…

Kate: I’m fine, Liam. These marks will disappear soon, so I’m not injured—

Young Man with Piercings: … Why the hell are you playing victim? This is all your fault!

Liam: … What?

Young Man with Piercings: If you hadn't fooled around with my woman, we wouldn't be after you.

Liam: … That means, it’s my fault this happened to Kate?

Young Man with Piercings: Yes, that’s right. All of this, everything, is your fault. If it weren't for you…!

Liam: …

Liam: I see… I… again…

Liam: Ahh… it's always like this…

(... Liam?)

Liam: …

Liam’s rose coloured eyes grew as dark as a cloudy sky before a thunderstorm.

While I was feeling perplexed because it was the first time witnessing that side of him, his thin lips curled into a smile.

Liam: … Pfft, … haha, hahaha

Young Man with Piercings: … Wha… Why are you laughing…

Brown Haired Man: … Oi… what’s with this guy…

Liam: Fufu… fine, you just want to get rid of me, right?

Liam: Then let’s try to kill one another, starting now! … Haha, I wonder if you two can even kill me…?

Fear crawled over me when I saw Liam’s dark eyes and unsettling smile.

— The most bothersome side effect caused by his cat curse is… having an episode.

Whenever an episode is triggered, things will get complicated and worrying.

(... Could it be that he’s having an episode now?)

Liam: Well then, let the fun and games begin. … Hah, caught you.

Young Man with Piercings: *gasp*...!

Liam easily reached his arms around the man and pinned his hands behind his back.

Liam: Ahh, you got caught so quickly. … You should try to escape.

Before I knew it, Liam had a dagger held at that young man’s throat—

Liam: I’m going to kill you before you can kill me, you know?

His curiosity-seeking smile made my skin crawl.

(If this goes on, Liam will kill someone…)

My voice caught in my throat out of fear, I could barely speak.

Kate: Liam, no…!

Liam: …?

Liam: Kate…?

(... Until now, I still don’t understand Liam’s heart.)

(Even though I’ve been by his side for so long.)

There's no denying that truth.

(However, even so…)

Crown’s mission was to fight evil with evil, even if they had to take people’s lives.

Liam would never let me see it, but he’s definitely had blood on his hands.

But, as much as possible, I want him to avoid getting his hands dirty.

It was so that the gentle part of Liam would remain unharmed.

(... Please. I have to let him know.)

Kate: … Liam. I don't want you to do this. I’m really fine, therefore—

Kate: Shall we go home together…?

Liam: … Ggrh.

Liam’s eyes shook as the darkness faded from his eyes.

Liam: Ah—...

Liam: … Okay.

Liam: Sorry… I almost did something wrong again…

(...?)

Liam: You don't want me to kill them, right…?

Kate: … Yes.

Liam: Is that what you want…?

Kate: … Y-Yes.

Liam: Mm, okay then. I’ll do whatever Kate says.

Liam: It's okay. I won’t do anything wrong this time. I surely, most definitely, won’t do anything wrong.

Liam: Because I care a lot about you.

Liam released the man who had his hands pinned behind his back, and tossed his dagger aside.

Liam: Kate, this is just for a short while— I’m sorry, alright?

Liam put an arm behind my knees and lifted me up in a princess carry—

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil main story #liam main story

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audrey-caden · 1 year ago

Text

October 9th.

It was Dallas and Audrey had been traveling with her boyfriend and the band during the peak of their tour. It was an important time for Jakob and Audrey was the proudest girlfriend you could ever have imagined. She stood by his side—whether directly by his side, behind the cameras as he gave interviews, or even in the front row as he performed. Wherever Jakob was, Audrey was nearby.

By the time they made it to Dallas, Audrey was exhausted from the constant traveling. They were on the go for the better part of a month and she could barely keep her eyes open and stand on her feet. Jakob was already at the arena for practice when Audrey let Holly know that she wasn’t gonna come to the concert tonight. She needed to sleep.

Audrey slept for about thirty minutes before her body jolted her awake and all she could think about was Jakob performing. What if he looked into the crowd and didn’t see her cheering for him in her bedazzled shirts she made for all his concerts? No. She couldn’t disappoint him. She’d sleep tonight after the concert while he chilled with the bandmates.

So, Audrey climbed off the hotel bed and found an outfit for the night, pulling on her newest shirt she crafted for Jakob: slut for jakob only. She grabbed a cab and headed to the arena to surprise her boyfriend, not even bothering to let Holly know.

______

Audrey approached the “band only” door and twisted the knob, letting herself in as she did all the time. Immediately, her eyes fell on Jakob as he was crouched over the table that held a line of coke, ready to snort it. She could feel all eyes on her, but her gaze was locked on her boyfriend who peered up to see her, his smile falling instantly, as did hers. She stared at him for a few moments before turning and leaving the scene, she slammed the door behind her.

Audrey stormed out of the building and was in the dock area behind the arena where they loaded the equipment in and out. She could feel her eyes burning with frustrated tears, but she wouldn’t let them fall. She paced back and forth and waited….waiting for Jakob to come and explain to her what the hell that was. After all, he told her he stopped doing drugs, so what the fuck did she just walk into? Her hands were shaking with anger, but she tried to keep calm. She wanted to give him a chance to explain himself.

As the minutes ticked away, Audrey could hear the music queuing up, meaning they were on stage now. “Asshole,” she wept, realizing he wasn’t going to come. Audrey crossed the road to a little cafe and called for an uber to take her back to the hotel.

______

Back at the hotel, Audrey took a hot bath to decompress and then climbed in bed in just an oversized shirt. She didn’t go to sleep, but she laid there, waiting. It was hours before she heard the keycard chime as someone came into the room. He was moving slowly so as not to wake up, maybe? Audrey rolled over to face him, her eyes sad. “You lied to me,” she whispered.

Jakob sat down on the edge of the bed. “It just happened,” he said softly. “We’ve been touring so hard and it was there and…” he trailed off, shrugging.

Audrey sat up and stared at him. “You’re a grown adult, I’m not going to force you to do anything. If you want to do drugs, that’s on you, but don’t tell me one thing and do something completely different.” She sighed. “I told you—what you say, is what I believe. Don’t tell me something unless you mean it.”

Jakob nodded, “I understand.”

Audrey laid her hand on his cheek, pulling his face closer to her. “Don’t lie to me, Jakob,” she whispered, her eyes pleading with him now. Trust was everything for the girl who had been morbidly broken in the past. She exhaled as a pout formed on her lips. “You didn’t even get to see my cute shirt I made for you. Sucks for you.” She smiled mischievously at him and pulled him closer to her. “Take me.”

#(audrey x 4)

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samgirl98 · 2 years ago

Text

Cain and Abel Wept 13/?

Prev | Next

Talia enters stage right

Ironically enough, Jason had never felt so alive than after drinking juice from the land of the dead.

Infinite Realms, Danny’s voice rang through his head.

Whatever he answered back.

Red Robin had fucked off a while ago, and usually, Jason would be going home, too, but he still felt wired. The pits were not quiet but muted, he could think. His emotions were his own, and when he thought about his dad Bruce, he didn’t feel an unyielding rage that threatened to consume him.

(Jason did still feel annoyed at the man.)

Jason had wanted to take a few vials of ectoplasm with him, but Maddie had vetoed him. She said his body needed to get used to the uncorrupted, pure ectoplasm, and she didn’t trust him not to experiment. Smart of her cuz he was gonna mix it with Red Bull to see what would happen.

An hour after patrolling (and nothing interesting happening), Jason was about to go home when he spotted her.

He knew he had only seen Talia because she wanted Jason to see her. Fuck, that can’t be good.

Jason could ignore her, but he knew better than to do that. Besides, in a weird way, Talia was like a mother to him. (What did that say about his life that the assassin lady that tried to use him as a weapon was a better mother than Sheila.)

Talia’s back was to him when he landed on the same roof.

“How are you, habibi?”

“Talia,” Jason started cautiously, “what are you doing here?”

She turned to look at him, “now, Jason, playing dumb is unbecoming.”

Jason felt his heartbeat pick up. She knew; she knew Danny was in Gotham. Still, he wasn’t willing to rat him out so quickly.

“Sorry, you have to elaborate.”

Talia raised an eyebrow, “I know Danyal is in Gotham. Why is he here, and where did my Beloved hide him?”

Jason cursed internally. It seemed like Talia had spies in Gotham.

“If you know he’s here, you should know why he’s in Gotham.”

Talia walked up to Jason; he ignored his speeding heartbeat.

“Jason, I know many things, but this isn’t one of them. Is Danyal in trouble? I need to know. I have to protect him however I can.”

“Like you protected him when he was in the League of Assassins? Oh, wait.”

Jason knew she would've flinched if Talia had been any other woman. The most she did was twitch a finger.

“I didn’t know that Danyal was planning on running away and taking his brother. Had I known he wanted out of the League, I would’ve done my best to get him out without my father’s knowledge. However, Danyal hid his desires deep in his heart so that not even I, his mother, could garner what he wanted.”

She sighed.

“My biggest regret is not protecting Danyal from his brother’s hands.”

“You mean Ra’s hands, your hands,” Jason said, angry, “You could’ve avoided all of this if you had given them to Bruce. Don’t blame your children, who were fucking kids, for how you raised them. You brainwashed Damian, you brainwashed—”

“Do you believe I brainwashed you, habibi? I treated you like one of my own. Don’t blame me for your actions.”

Jason gritted his teeth. It was true, unlike Danny and Damian, Jason had been older when Talia had gotten her hands on him; he chose to follow her and fall for her lies. (He had wanted a mother, and Talia had filled that hole, even if it was with darkness.)

“Please, Jason, I just want to protect my children.”

“If you really want to protect them, leave their lives. Imagine what Ra’s will do when he finds out Danny is alive. And he will if you stay here in Gotham.”

Talia turned her back to him, “I will find out why Danyal is in Gotham. I left him a place where father would never find him, and now he’s here in Gotham where Ra’s can find out about him. Despite what my father may think, Danyal isn’t stupid; he wouldn’t be here in Gotham unless he is in danger. A danger that doesn’t involve my father or the League.”

She gave him one last look, and she looked… vulnerable. Just as she threw herself from the roof, Jason couldn’t help but say, “Danny, he goes by Danny now.”

He knew she had heard him.

____

Danny woke up to the ringing of his phone. He groaned; was it too much to ask for sleep?

“Hello, you’ve reached the number of underappreciated talent. Leave a message after the beep,” Danny mimicked the dial tone sound and waited to see what the person would do.

“Danny, this is Jason. Call me back when you get this message; Talia is in town.”

“Jason, I’m here. I was messing with you. What do you mean Talia is in town? When did you see her?”

“Danny,” Jason asked incredulously before answering, “I saw her about ten minutes ago. She was waiting for me on a rooftop. I left the area before I called you; she wants to know where in Gotham you’re stashed away. She knows you’re here and wants to know what you’re running away from.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! Talia could bring the League of Assassins on his ass if Ra’s found out about Danny’s faked death. True, his mother had been the one to help him fake his death, but he had conflicted feelings about the woman. He didn’t even consider her his mom anymore.

(He had a real mother who would kill and die for him. One who had left everything she knew and loved behind to run away with him to ensure he was safe.)

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing much, just that you preferred to be called Danny now. Have no idea why I did that, but I didn’t tell her where in Gotham you are. I wouldn’t be surprised if she found out, though.”

“Have you told Bruce yet?”

“No, I wanted to call you first.”

“Okay, okay. I can fix this; I can totally fix this.”

Danny stared up the stairs where his family was sleeping. They didn’t deserve this; maybe if he ran…no, he couldn’t do that to them.

“I’ll let Bruce know; you tell him what happened, too. I’ll wake up my family and let them know what’s developed.”

There was silence in the other line for a moment.

“Danny, I know you don’t want to move to the Manor, but maybe—”

“I’ll discuss it with my family,” Danny cut Jason off before hanging up.

Danny picked up the phone and texted his brother.

ME: What can you tell me about mother and her

Involvement with the League

…

Danny bit his nails as Damian typed.

DAMI: She and Grandfather had a falling out, so she’s

left the League. There has been a schism within its

ranks. However, Grandfather wants to put her back

under his thumb. Why do you ask, Akhi?

ME: Jason just spoke to her. She’s in

Gotham.

DAMI: Fuck. Does Father know?

ME: Not yet. I told Jason I would tell

him and for him to tell bruce too.

ME: Jason recommended I go to the

manor that d it’d be safer but idk

…

DAMI: As much as I would love to

have you close, Akhi, don’t let fear

dictate your decision.

Danny laughed a bit manically. Danny had let fear dictate his life since Dami’s betrayal. Why should he change it now?

ME: thanks baby bro I’ll take

that into account. BTW, before

I forget don’t get too angry at

them. They were just being idiots

DAMI: What do you mean, Akhi?

ME: You’ll see 😏

Danny took a deep breath. He had to wake his parents and Jazz up. It was going to be a long day.

____

Talia watched with mild interest as the men dressed in white suits set up their equipment in an abandoned warehouse.

The fact that they could get to Gotham without her Beloved noticing was disconcerting, to say the least.

She beckoned toward the shadows, and one of her servants stepped out.

“Investigate these men. Find out what they want and what they’re doing here. You have one hour.”

The man bowed before disappearing back into the shadows. She would protect her sons, no matter what.

Next up: Bruce scolds the kids; gets called a [redacted]

Constantine does not want to be at the manor, but alas

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @luer-mirin @mur-ururu @insufferablecrab @skulld3mort-1fan @meira-3919 @aethernorwood @mimilikey @marshmelloe @latheevening226 @ahyesanerd @lexdamo @chrysanthemum9484 @spooky-fm @gmkelz11 @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @supershot73199 @starscreamlover @booberrylizard @pastalavistamf

#cain and abel wept #dc x dp #dp x dc #dc x dp fan fic

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rudie-wr1tes · 8 months ago

Text

Endless Passion- A Sandman Fan Fiction

VII. Somnolence

Synopsis: Sabine enters a period of mourning following her first meeting with Lord Morpheus. In his absence, her penance is expressed in self-destructive ways, until the Endless returns.

In Morpheus’s absence, Sabine wept. All doors were shut. The window remained obscured to the light and prosperity of the Dreaming. Patrons of the Dreaming quickly familiarized the sounds of her grief, many cultures fearing it to be an omen of impending death. Lucienne and Matthew quickly reassured frightened dreamers that the weeping was no cause for alarm. Lord Morpheus had not returned for almost six days, calculating longer in the Waking World. For these six days, she refused to eat. She refused to leave her room, even as Lord Morpheus attempted to coax her.

Sabine layed on her side, fighting between stages of restlessness and awake. Her arms were sore from pinch mark pain, attempting to wake herself from this never ending nightmare. But it was too late to wake up now.

She would remain here for god knows how long, beneath Morpheus and his glowing eyes. They burned into her vision, equally enchanting and frightening. She could not let his piercing gaze escape her. She resented herself for that, staring into nothing.

Meanwhile- Lucienne, Matthew, and Mervyn stood in a half circle outside of the closed chamber door, observing yet another plate of untouched food.

“.... What do you think?” Matthew asked Lucienne.

“I tried.” Lucienne’s response was short, “I try as I always do. To not be invasive.”

“How long can humans survive without food and water?” Mervyn asked.

“Three days without water.” Lucienne answered, “But she’s had some. But nothing to eat.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing.” Mervyn said.

“No, it isn’t.” Lucienne argued, “Not when she’s injured. It will only hinder her healing, and her quality of life.”

“I think her quality of life isn’t something we should talk about while she’s in ear shot, guys.” Matthew observed, motioning his beak to the door.

Lucienne sighed in disappointment as she picked up the cold, uneaten stew and biscuits.

“She’s got to eat something.” She muttered, as they headed down the hall, “But Lord Morpheus will not be thrilled knowing this, either.”

“She hasn’t eaten?” Morpheus’s voice reverberated behind them.

All but Lucienne flinched in the presence of their creator. Mervyn scratched his neck, not making eye contact with him.

“We didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” Mervyn admitted sheepishly, “Erm… Well, it appears that this lady friend of yours isn’t eating.”

“He’s not my friend.” Sabine interjected from inside her chambers.

Matthew exchanged a glance with Lucienne, whose eyes were wide behind her glasses.

“She’s hangry.” Matthew whispered to Morpheus, “It’s…. You know. A mix of hungry and angry, but she’s still too…. Stubborn to eat.”

Morpheus let out a small chuckle, his brow raising upward at her attitude, “Bold to assume you’d bite the hand that feeds you.”

“Why would I?” Sabine remarked, “When I’m not remotely hungry.”

Mervyn awkwardly inched away at Lucienne’s silent signal.

Matthew hopped to the doorframe’s edge and tapped it with his beak, “He’s right here, Sabine-”

“Good.” Sabine thwarted, “So he can know just how much I resent him.”

Morpheus quietly pressed his head to the side of the door, while placing a hand on the doorknob. It was stiff to the touch, as if she placed an object under it. He shook his head slowly, looking at Lucienne.

Lucienne spoke multitudes without uttering a word, as she crossed her arms and leaned against the other doorframe. Her hand motioned to the anger simmering from the guest chamber. She was perplexed still, at the growing annoyance in her creator’s smile.

“I take it you are angry with me.” Morpheus observed, keeping his tone neutral.

“Oh, really??” Sabine responded in an irritated tone, “It doesn’t take the genius of a anthropomorphic representation of a natural force to figure that out.”

Morpheus scowled, looking at Lucienne again.

“Has she been like this with you?” Morpheus asked softly.

“Nothing but silence for me.” Lucienne answered flatly, “And given what kind of deal you both agreed to, I think she has every right.”

“She’ll starve herself in there.” Morpheus murmured, looking down at the plate of cold food in her hand, “Regardless of how long her sentence is here, she cannot survive.”

“I don’t have time for this.” Lucienne admitted, “I think this is only a matter that should be settled with you both. She’s clearly irrational from a lack of food.”

“I heard that!” Sabine snapped.

“That was the goal.” Lucienne said with a forced smile, “Maybe you should take my advice.”

Morpheus inhaled deeply, “I will speak to her. You may return to your duties at the library.”

“Thank you.” Lucienne turned to leave, “And my Lord…” Lucienne glanced at the door again, lowering her voice, “Please. Be gentle with her. She isn’t in the slightest with herself.”

Morpheus waited until Lucienne left, before sitting down on the ground before her doorway. His fingertips grazed the surface, feeling it ebb and weave into waves of vapor before retracting his hand back. He had every power capable to walk through the door. Barriers meant nothing in this realm, but she didn’t know that. And he wasn’t intending on her finding out. With a wave of his hand, the stew disappeared into a dark wave of smoke.

Sabine rose from the bed, taking tentative steps to the door. Her eyes and face were puffy from crying. Her throat curdled into a rasp as she spoke again.

“What do you want?” Sabine asked aloud, annoyance growing in her voice.

Morpheus crossed his lanky legs as he sat before the door, leaning into the frame, “I have come to relieve you of your penance, Sabine.”

“That’s rich.” Sabine laughed bitterly, “Trying to be sweet on me now after I’m stuck here? Knowing I’m better off dead?”

“Death has not changed her mind on taking you. She has made that clearest, of all things.” Morpheus spoke truthfully, eyeing the shadows of her feet beneath the doorframe, “And nor should you starve yourself as punishment for being away from your little sister, either.”

A moment of silence hung in the air from the other end of Sabine’s door. Morpheus waited patiently.

“I’m angry.” Sabine said, “I’m angry at everything. I’m angry at myself, at you, and I shouldn’t be.”

“That is understandable.” Morpheus said in a low voice, tracing his finger across the etched doorframe, “And I will not argue with you on that. However…. It troubles everyone that you aren’t caring for yourself.”

“I won’t eat.” Sabine protested, “I won’t sleep. I won’t do anything with anyone.”

Morpheus failed to conceal the growing smile on his face, “You do not owe me theatrics, Sabine. Your sister is free from her coma.”

He could feel the guilt come over her at his news. There was a low thud on the doorway, as her body slid back against it, her back facing to him.

“Of course.” Sabine muttered, “Of course I’m angry and you say that. I’m sure you regret giving me that chance, huh?”

“No.” Morpheus replied, tucking the small strip of blue silk from her robe that fell beneatht he doorway back in, “Not in the slightest. My concern now is making sure you are rested and recovering.”

He waited for another response.

“Is my cat okay?” She asked, “His name is Kimo. I’m sure you saw him.”

Morpheus smiled at the growing softness in her voice, “Kimo is in excellent health and Kalea is caring for him.”

Sabine’s head lightly began to tap ahgainst the doorframe. She was punishing herself yet again.

“Thank you.” She said, “And… This is going to sound so stupid, bit I’ve pitched a fit already…”

“Go on.” Morpheus reassured her.

“... There isn’t anymore of those creeps like the Corinthian, right?” Sabine asked, “I shouldn’t worry about anything else trying to hurt Kalea. I know he’s your creation and all, but he put a knife to my throat.”

“You have my word.” Morpheus said closer to the door, “You will always have my word.”

Sabine sniffled from inside.

“Can you just check on her again soon?” Sabine asked, “I don’t know what kind of errands you do… But I just need to know they’re okay. Please. I swore on no contact. But please, just to… Humor me, I guess. In another day or so.”

“It will be done.” Morpheus accepted her request, “In this realm, I will leave every now and then to attend to business in the Waking World and with my siblings. If you would like to voice more of your concerns, you can always speak to me. If not me, Matthew.”

Sabine held her knees tighter to her chest at his words, pressing her chin into them.

“You don’t have to close the doors on any of us.” Morpheus said, “Your heart is aching. But please, now is no time to isolate.”

“Is that all?” Sabine asked in a worn out voice.

Morpheus rose to his feet, pausing longer, “I understand your protest still remains strong…. But I noticed some particular memories of yours in your apartment, of all the recipes your family gave to you…”

“Yes, and?”

“I would like to ask.” Morpheus pried, “Which, of all of them was your favorite?”

On the other side of the door, Sabine bounced her leg in the a silk nightgown similar from days prior, as she shook her head.

“Why do you want to know?” Sabine asked.

“I like to know what brings joy to all dreamers here.” Morpheus was lying. It was so clear he was. But she took the bait anyways.

“Kalua pork.” She uttered, “We cook it in the ground with banana leaves on it. With a side of lomi salmon, my aunt made the best. Poi, it’s a… I don’t know if you know what it is. I’m sure you do. It’s a starch. And a pot of white rice. For dessert we always had some sort of cake, but my favorite was mango mochi… That was always our Sunday meal.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Morpheus marveled, “It must be a very special meal for you.”

Sabine’s stomach betrayed her with a violent growl.

“Stop tricking me into being hungry.” Sabine quipped.

“I do not know what you mean by that.” Morpheus spoke innocentrly, “If you are to spend eternity here with me, I may as well know what brings you peace too.”

The sound of his footsteps carried away from her doorway. Sabine waited until then to walk back to the unmade bed. Before she could fall face first into the covers, there was another knock at the door.

“I swear to god.” Sabine muttered, “Lord Morpheus, I don’t wish to see you.”

Silence.

“Did you hear me or no?” She quipped, “I said I’m not in the mood.”

She could picture it then- standing in her doorway with his bad, bad eyes. His stern finger waving in her face, darkening his gaze. Sabine grabbed one of her slippers firmly in hand, feeling it burn in her palm. If he was there, she was seconds away from walloping an immortal figure upside the head with it. She stormed to the doorway with a huff, checking for any feet imprints under the doorway, only to find a pair of wheels. She quickly opened the door to a large concealed tray of food. The trolly was unmanned, as it pushed its way into her room. Sabine stumbled back until it parked before her with a squeaky wheel. Suddenly the slipper had gone missing from her hand.

“If it’s in here, I’m throwing his skinny butt out this window.” She muttered, opening the silver cover. Steam from the exact meal she described welcomed her with fragrances of home to the point of tears. Everything was freshly made, within an instant. She checked over her shoulder and threw the door shut, so at least the sound of her carnal devouring could be concealed to some degree. Between bites, her resentment towards Morpheus shrank…. Only slightly, but much more than she was willing to admit as the trolley pulled away.

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Something Something.... Girl dinner. Something like that. LOL!

#dream of the endless #fan fiction #writeblr #my fanfiction #the sandman netflix #fic writing #lord morpheus #the sandman

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pol-ack · 11 months ago

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The Queen is Dead: A Morrissey X Reader Adventure

hugely inspired by @jemblespee, was given the go ahead to write the second chapter for this legendary work. 10/10 weeped before will again

beautiful first chapter can be found here:

Steven blinked, the sudden light from the sun of Birmingham beaming onto his weary face. Tears welled as his dainty pale arms created friction against the rubble beneath him, the loss of you, and your scent, by his side.

"How could it have come to this?" He weeped, shaky hands pulling up to cut through the air and to rest onto his face. He barely could pull himself up.

Yet, it was the depravity in the form of his longing for you that forced him to get up. He had to, if he wanted to win you back from the clutches of his ex lover, Robert Smith.

However, on the other side of England, you could care less. Having huddled in together with good ole Rob, the two of you basked in eachother's presence without the.. burden, that used to be your ex. In fact, you had been having such a wonderful time, you had forgotten how Johnny Marr was supposed to come visit soon.

Now while the history between him and Morrissey had been bitter, the prior intense lovers breaking up due to continuous toxicity in a relationship on Steven's end, you had insisted on Johnny staying a constant within your life, finding him a lively person to be around. It had caused several arguments between you and Steven, however you had the upper hand as the Alpha in the relationship.

And as he walked through the door, spotting you and Robert, three of you making intense eye contact with one another, Robbie shot you a knowing glance, the two of you in sync towards your affection towards Johnny. You looked back at Robbie, almost double checking. Yet he gave you a nod, leading the words of invitation to spill like molasses from your lips.

Morrissey was restless. He couldn't stand this feeling, this sinking feeling. He couldn't mansplain manipulate malewife out of this. He needed to find you. He clamoured through cities, running and speaking to each person, even those he detested, all to find you again. He thought that if he just returned, he could make it right.

So he gripped his bouquet of much too long flowers, and slicked back his hair into his classic hairstyle. His "Steven" hair, as he called it. He ignored how you pointed out the idiocy in this name, he ignored it so he could just see you in all the best ways. Best ways, of course, being an asset to him. As per usual.

Nevertheless, the charming vegan graciously ended up at your door in the end, banging furiously.

"Y/N!" He screamed, wailing almost. Yet with it being Morrissey, he held his entitled accent when he had. "Let me in, please! We can just talk this out, I promise you! Then we could merely forget this all, and bask in the-"

"What the fuck?!"

He screamed at the sight in front of him. Johnny Marr, Robert Smith, his old flames. Too close for comfort to You. He couldn't believe it. He crode. He scrumt. He stomped his feet. Yes, he was having a kiddie tantrum.

Yet, it only made it worse when all three of you stood up. And charged.

WHAM! (like the band)

They all crashed into him. Morrissey bleated pathetically like the Omega he is at every blow, each punch hitting him worse.

WHAM!

Another punch across the face. He raised his hands up, begging for the hits to stop.

WHAM?!

Multiple kicks to the groin. Steven wept, trying to put up a fight, yet against the power throuple made of (y/n), Robert, and Johnny, he was no match.

"Wham" - jemblespee, I Know It's Over: A Morrissey X Reader Adventure (2023)

The pathetic man flew to America, crashing into the stage of Radiohead's concert, concerning all male manipulators and racists globally of his potential death.

Meanwhile the throuple rejoiced, basking in smoocherinos and several speakers blearing the song "Pink Triangle" in victory. It tasted sweet, and you knew only good could come from this.

The End.

#morrissey x reader #morrissey gets his ass beat (again)#male manipulator core #the smiths #johnny marr #robert smith x reader #johnny marr x reader #justice part two #i am so sorry #i am exhausted #its 3 am

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 2 years ago

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The Bridge Is Crossed (Excerpt)

I say ‘excerpt’ as if there’s literally any other piece of this fic that exists -- there Is Not. This is the first and so far only example of this fic, but this scene would not leave me alone so here we are. This is essentially a play-by-play of The Point of No Return as narrated by Raoul (Lan Xichen) having to watch his lover get felt up and like it very publically by the madman they’re all there to take down. So hot lol. I do recommend listening to the song (the Gerard Butler/Emmy Rossum version) while reading if you feel so inclined, but it’s hopefully not necessary to get the same sense of tension and rhythm and sensuality. But also: forgive me father, for I have thoroughly abused my repertoire of adverbs in my effort to make this feel like music lol.

ANYWAY, here you go @wishthatiwasnessiesgirl, @wincestielfttfwin, and anyone else who’s excited about this lol:

-/-

Meng Yao looks so…small down on the stage. Lit by gas lamps, eyes dusted dark and wide, face pale, cheeks rouged pink, he looks as innocent as he’s meant to be. Delicate, breakable. Positioned to be taken advantage of.

Lan Xichen’s heart clenches in his chest, his fist on the gold banister of the fateful Box Five, waxed and polished to gleaming save for where the sweat gathering on his palm has smudged the finish. Meng Yao’s performance thus far has been flawless despite the fear he’d wept out into Lan Xichen’s shoulder just fifteen minutes before curtain, but the longer the show goes on without any sign of their Phantom the more likely he is to break under the unbearable strain of waiting.

There is a brief lull in the space between the plan being agreed upon between Don Juan and his faithful servant and the beginning of the agreed upon seduction, and within that breath Lan Xichen feels the air change. Imperceptible, perhaps just a trick of his imagination, but the moment Meng Yao settles on his mark – downstage left, so brightly lit this close to the lamps he seems to glow from within, pure and untouched – Lan Xichen knows, deep in his bones, that this is it. The climax, the pivotal moment of this narrative their Phantom has concocted. There is no doubt in his mind, even before Don Juan returns to the stage suddenly taller, broader, and far younger beneath his mask than Wen Ruohan has been in quite some time, that this is the moment they’ve been waiting for through weeks and weeks of anxiety-fuelled rehearsals, and the slow terror of this horrible opening night.

Don Juan stage whispers his instruction to his servant, and for that moment he sounds enough like Wen Ruohan that the difference is likely not immediately obvious to those in the audience who aren’t nearly as familiar with their cast as Lan Xichen is. But then he opens his mouth to sing, and there is no room for doubt any longer.

An uneasy ripple passes through those in the know – the guards and the police stationed everywhere they possibly can be, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji in their Managers’ Box across the theater, the chorus dancers Lan Xichen can barely see huddled in uneasy clusters around the legs in the wings to watch – but no one yet makes a move. The Phantom is unpredictable after all, and the last thing any of them want is to see Meng Yao injured in haste, so they must let it go on until the perfect moment to strike.

The tension spirals upwards on the drifts of smoke from the torches that dot the set, and Meng Yao turns slowly to look over his bared shoulder, kneeling on the stage, a red rose falling from limp fingers back into the basket at his knees as he must register the arrival of his Phantom. Lan Xichen can no longer see his expression, but he can only hope that his perpetual mask – or his stage acting – is good enough to hide how petrified he must be.

There is no denying the magnetism of the Phantom, Lan Xichen realizes with a bit of a start. His voice is rich and warm, sweeping through the theater with a confidence, a power, that even Wen Ruohan doesn’t always possess. He sings of passion, and succumbing, and deep, dark desires that need not be hidden any longer – private things laid bare for the world to know in a way that makes Lan Xichen’s stomach clench in the hushed silence between phrases, in the rests of the rising sweep of the orchestra.

The urge to stop this all, to bundle Meng Yao off the stage into his arms and let law enforcement handle this madman they’ve all become servant to nearly overwhelms him. But the Phantom is gently, carefully, almost tenderly leading Meng Yao across the stage by the hand, slow, cautious steps further and further stage right, away from Lan Xichen, away from immediate help, and so Lan Xichen simply clenches his fist hard enough to leave imprints of his nails in his palm and stays silent.

A swell of strings, a building intensity in volume and tempo both. The lonesome, sweet call of violins rising above the orchestra to sing along and enrich the demands of the seducer. Coaxing, entreating, and Lan Xichen feels every beat of it in his chest while Meng Yao follows where he’s led, helpless. Innocent.

There is the briefest pause, a mere half-beat of rest at the end of a series of leading questions, and then Meng Yao’s sweet tenor is rising high into the rafters, a breath of fresh air sweeping through the haze of dark devotion delivered by his ‘Don Juan’. He turns back to where he began, feet bare under the uneven hem of his beaded sort-of-skirt as he crosses to his first mark and then closer still to the edge of the stage, seeming close enough to touch though Lan Xichen knows it’s impossible from this height.

For the first time since the Phantom stepped onto his stage, Meng Yao looks up to meet Lan Xichen’s eyes once again, his gaze clear and reassuring as his voice soars easily through the music written obsessively, lovingly, possessively just for him. There is a flicker in the corner of Lan Xichen’s eye, the turning of a masked gaze up to where he sits, piercing and intense, but Lan Xichen keeps his own gaze on Meng Yao and recognizes in him the silent signal, ‘Not yet. Wait.’.

Lan Xichen will trust Meng Yao a little farther, and he will have to hope he can save him in time.

Those present who are not nearly so versed as he in Meng Yao’s mannerisms misunderstand – behind him he hears the metal clock of a gun being readied, and when he glances across the theater it’s to see Wei Wuxian stumbling from his seat to bring the police officer outside their box inside, standing at the ready. Lan Xichen uncurls his fist long enough to lift his palm from the banister in the universal gesture to stand down, and everyone settles into uneasy attentiveness once again as onstage Meng Yao sings of fantasy, and of entwining bodies, and of how badly he wants to give into it all.

Meng Yao turns back to face the Phantom then, full of resolve, and Lan Xichen tells himself that it is not the rejection it feels like, it is simply the role Meng Yao has to play for all of their sakes. The caught lover, not so innocent as he first appeared, willing to lie down and accept the affection that was meant to be forced upon him. Lan Xichen knows this, but something looming and possessive takes root in his hollow chest as the gaping collar of Meng Yao’s barely-existent shirt slips down, both shoulders abruptly bared once again as he turns his back on Lan Xichen and the Phantom takes several breaths deep enough that Lan Xichen can see his chest expanding all the way from the balcony, his lips parted beneath the harsh line of his mask, clearly as affected as Lan Xichen would be were he the focus of such sensual attention.

The music swells again, Meng Yao’s voice skating effortlessly through his own rising tension as he climbs his set of stairs up to the catwalk high above the rest of the set, the Phantom rising with him, his mirror at stage right. Lan Xichen is drifting to his feet with them before he can think better of it, caught up entirely in the way they don’t dare to look away from each other as they ascend, as they agree through word and deed both to give into the passion blooming between them.

They reach the top, their positions now equal, actively engaged in to lift them to the same height, no more power imbalance now that they’ve knowingly chosen each other. The Phantom sweeps off the cape covering one shoulder and takes the few measured steps necessary to meet Meng Yao in the middle –

Lan Xichen gasps – inaudible under the deafening crescendo of the orchestra and the soaring, flawless twining of their two voices, tenor and bass – as the Phantom suddenly grabs Meng Yao by the narrowest part of his waist and yanks him closer, twists him by the hands to wrap his arms around him, holding him pressed tightly against his chest. Lan Xichen’s vision swims and he can’t seem to catch his breath through parted lips as he watches Meng Yao clutch onto the arm around his waist for dear life, his head tipped back and eyes closed in ecstasy as the Phantom drags his free hand up from Meng Yao’s grasping fingers to caress his chest firmly enough to drag at his thin shirt, to curl around his neck and hold him still, temple pressed to cheek in an unmistakable lovers’ embrace.

And Meng Yao wants it.

Lan Xichen knows him well, knows him intimately, and there is no doubt in his mind – jealousy aside – that right now, in this moment, Meng Yao wants to be nowhere else but in this madman’s arms. Held. Wanted. Adored and admired for all that he is. Lan Xichen’s heart aches but he finds he can’t begrudge his partner even this. His life has been so difficult, so lonesome despite the fact that he’s grown up in the crowded dormitories of the opera house. Is it any wonder he still loves the angel who’d come to him in the night, despite knowing now who his angel truly is?

Lan Xichen sinks back down into his seat as the music lulls, as the theater falls once again into a reverent hush to give the lovers a moment to breathe.

And then, so soft and sweet Lan Xichen doesn’t realize at first that the sweet tenor melody is coming from the Phantom : a plea. An entreaty. So different from the commands of before, the confidence, the power that he’s shown until this. Now instead he’s vulnerable. Tender. At the mercy of Meng Yao and his promise of returned affection. Lan Xichen’s heart aches again for his beseeching, the sweetest and truest desire expressed between them yet, and realizes a few moments too late that their Phantom isn’t singing the words he’d written in the script – they fit the same melody, but they’re the words that Lan Xichen himself had once sung to Meng Yao out on the rooftop, certain at the time that they had been alone in their newly blooming love.

He gasps again, audible this time in the quiet, and feels something twist loose in his chest, something he doesn’t have the time to identify before the music swells again, crescendoes – and Meng Yao rips off his Phantom’s mask with vicious hands that had just moments ago sweetly caressed that ruined face.

“Go!” Lan Xichen shouts, but the Phantom is, as ever, two steps ahead. He grabs Meng Yao once again by the waist and drops abruptly into a trap door built into the set, and through the pandemonium of the audience finally clocking that something has gone horribly wrong Lan Xichen launches himself from his seat and runs through the gilded, marble hallways. He skids to a stop when he reaches the ground floor as people begin to run screaming from the floor seats, and he watches in horror through the open doors and above the heads of the boiling crowd as the chandelier swings wildly from one side of the theater to the other, plaster and wood crashing down from the ceiling as the chain that holds the mass of crystal and flame aloft tears through it all like so much wet paper.

It crashes to the ground with a shock that Lan Xichen feels in every bone in his body, but he doesn’t have the time to stop and help – what can he do in the face of such horrible danger and panic? – and so as his brother’s beloved opera house begins to burn he continues his headlong flight into the wings until he spots a familiar face.

“Huaisang!” he shouts over the din of the opera house denizens screaming and running for their lives as the smell of smoke begins to choke from the roaring fire in the audience. “Where have they gone?!”

Nie Huaisang stares at him for a too-long moment before resolve strengthens his weak features, and Lan Xichen watches the mask of the simple but sharp-eyed ballet master fall away to quietly reveal a man with nerves as steady as his own.

“Follow me. I’ll take you to him.”

Without another word they run into the bowels of the opera house, down, down, down to where the gilding and the marble and the velvet all cease, where the walls are no longer the humble wood and plaster of the backstage areas, but are instead cold wet stone, flickering torchlight, and an endless staircase down, down, down into the depths.

Lan Xichen is going to end this once and for all, one way or another.

#the untamed fanfic #3zun #Phantom of the Opera au #The Bridge Is Crossed #I meant it when I said I way overused my adverbs but I LIKE THEM and they're IMPORTANT okay?!#Also: LXC watching his fiance thoroughly enjoy getting seduced and felt up in front of an entire audience by another man:#His phantom? Our phantom? His??? THE?? WHAT IS HAPPENING OH GOD THE OPERA HOUSE IS BURNING WE CAN THINK ABOUT THIS LATER #(psst the way he's going to end it is kissing them both A Lot)

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sjsmith56 · 1 year ago

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Contact - Chapter 7, Finding Jade

Summary: Ma senses a familiar presence searching for Jade and decides to reveal the real connection between the two. Bucky tries to calm an upset Jade after she experiences a flashback of child sexual abuse. Realizing that her own father enabled Elder Abraham as a pedophile Jade vows vengeance. The Avengers agree to go after the cult but only to turn them over, which doesn’t satisfy Jade.

Length: 3.6K

Characters: Everyone is in this, except for Ben.

Warnings: Flashback of sexual abuse, disagreement between Jade and the others, desire for vengeance.

Author notes: As Ma recognizes who has been looking for Jade she realizes she has to reveal her true relationship with Jade. It sets the stage for much of what will come, including the close relationship she will develop with Bucky.

<<Chapter 6

🏜️

Ma, Wanda, and Jade did another practice session to lure one of the Others away from its nest. They pulled this one quite a distance to see how far before the sentries followed. As soon as they were out of visual range two sentries came looking for the wayward creature and they released him.

"Well, as long as we don't take them out of visual range of the nest we can take him quite a ways," said Ma. "How fast do they move at top speed?"

"About 30 mph," said Bucky, who had been observing the session. "I don't know if they do that speed in the exo-suits. That distance today was what, about half a mile? That doesn't give you very long to get away if they come searching."

"No, it doesn't," said Ma. "It's almost certain we'll need a distraction to get away."

She stopped talking for a moment and something flickered over her face, recognition, or a bit of fear...Jade sent her mother a thought.

"Ma, what's wrong?" she asked. "You felt something."

"You didn't," she said, "and that has me worried. Someone is looking for you. I think you should shut down all of your abilities for the next while. Don't use any of them until we do the mission."

"Ma, tell me what you saw," said Jade, worried.

Her mother turned directly to her. "I have something to tell you," she said openly. "Go get Bruce and Steve. They should hear this. Bucky, Wanda, you come also. I'll be in my room."

Jade found the others and brought them to Ma's room. They sat on the couch and chairs while she sat on the edge of the bed. Nervously, she clasped and unclasped her hands. Then she looked at Jade.

"What do you remember of your mother?" she asked.

"Just a presence," said Jade. "No face or voice."

"And your father?" asked Ma.

"A tall man, blond, could ride a horse, and he cried when he left me in the Badlands," she said.

"He was upset," she said. "You weren't the first member of his family to be cast out. His wife was the first, a year before because of her psychic abilities. She stayed nearby though because she was concerned about their daughter, who had exhibited the same abilities that both parents had, except your father hid his. On the day he took you out to the Badlands he sent a thought message to his wife and told her where he left their daughter so she could find her and take her to safety. Except the wife had a medical incident. A migraine so bad that she thought she was having an aneurysm. Her friend called an ambulance and they kept her in the hospital for two days, until she snuck out and drove to where her husband said he had left their daughter. She wasn't there. For another two days your mother looked everywhere for you, finally finding you at the base of a hoodoo. You were almost dead and she thought she lost you."

Ma started crying and Bucky stood up to hold her. "You're Jade's mother," he said gently, his eyes full of concern, "her real mother."

She nodded and wept into his chest. Jade's eyes were full of tears but she said nothing, and offered no comfort to Ma. Patiently, she waited for Ma to speak.

"I was a nurse and I bought some IV fluids and I treated you at home for dehydration and exposure," she said. "Gently I went in and removed my face from your previous memories. I wanted you to have a fresh start and forget that I had no choice but to leave you there. I hated them for what they did to you, a six year old. I hated your father for staying with them, choosing them over you. But the leader, Elder Abraham, had such a hold on him, I was surprised John even dared to tell me where you were."

"Why now, Ma?" asked Jade. "Why tell me now, instead of years ago?"

"I tried to tell you, many times," she said, looking at her daughter with a fearful face. "But I was afraid you would leave me and take Ben, and you two were all I had. We were so happy and I was terrified you would hate me."

"Ma," said Jade, standing in front of her mother, "I can never hate you. You saved me. You showed me how to use my gift, how to be a good mom, how to love a good man. I just wish you had trusted me and told me the truth sooner. Your future knowledge is better than mine. What have you seen that pushed you past your fear of telling me?"

"Two things. The Others will take me and I won't be here to protect you," she said. "Wanda will try, the others will try but it might not be enough to keep the Children of Adam from taking you."

"When will the Others take you?" asked Bucky.

"On the mission," she said. "They will come for the one we're examining and I won't be able to hold the illusion long enough for me to get on the horse. Bruce and Peter will get away because I'm the human they want."

"That's why you were trying to extend the distance," said Steve, "to buy yourself more time. What's the second thing?"

"The presence that was looking for you in Albuquerque was your father, Jade," said Ma. "He's still with Elder Abraham and they want you back. They want you back to marry Abraham and become the mother of their cult. They think because you survived the wilderness you proved your divinity. In their minds you will save them, and only them from the Others. You can never go back there. Bucky, you have to protect her. Don't let them have her. I'm not afraid of dying as long as I know Jade and Ben are safe. But right now it's fifty / fifty that I'll die."

"Wait," said Steve. "This isn't a sure thing?"

"Nothing in the future ever is," said Ma. "There's always a chance it works out differently."

"We need Dr. Strange," said Bruce. "Surely, he must still be alive. Wanda, when was the last time you tried making contact?"

"About a year ago," she said. "He wasn't showing up on any of my visions. I've had no visions about Jade or her mother, either. It's like there's a blank spot over them."

"Who's Dr. Strange?" asked Jade.

"Sorcerer Supreme," said Bucky. "He was a neurosurgeon who was injured and learned to harness magical abilities including the ability to look forward into time, into all possible futures."

Jade frowned. "Does he wear a red cape?" she asked. "Blue suit?"

All three men and Wanda stood up. "Yes," said Steve. "Why?"

"I dreamed of him," said Jade. "While I was in the Badlands, dying. He came to me in a dream. Why can't I remember what he said?"

She stood there pressing her hands to her head. Wanda walked to her.

"May I?" she asked.

Jade nodded and Wanda put her fingers on Jade's temple and closed her eyes. Together the two women saw the vision that Jade had dreamed when she was delirious with pain in the Badlands.

"Touch either Jade or myself if you want to see this," said Wanda.

All three men touched one of the women while Ma used her own abilities.

"I'm dying Ma, they killed me," moaned Jade, as she lay face down in the dirt.

"You're not dead yet," said a man.

Jade looked up and saw a man in a red cape. "Who are you?"

"Dr. Stephen Strange," he said. "I'm here to make sure you get to the Bunker and give the Avengers a message."

He bent down over her and gently laid her on her back, lifting her shirt and seeing the wound. Shaking his head he waved his hands over it and the wound closed.

"That will have to do for now," he said. "Long enough to get seen by the dog, anyways. Now listen carefully. What you and your mother propose is what we're trying in our bunker in Canada. That's why I haven't been answering the call. I've needed all my attention on this. Don't you try it until I get back to you. It's a good idea but all sorts of things can go wrong. Oh, and tell Steve, welcome back. I'm sorry about Peggy. Tell Bucky, I'm sorry about Lily. Tell Peter that Aunt May is safe. They must look after you, Jade, you're the key."

The dream ended and everyone stood back. No one said anything at first.

"So does that mean the mission is on hold?" asked Ma.

"I guess so," said Steve. "He was pretty specific about waiting."

Life was always a matter of waiting for the right moment to act.

Paulo Coehlo

The meeting in the common room to share Jade's vision was ... interesting. Peter was happy to hear his Aunt May was safe, at least she was a few weeks previous when Jade first had the vision. Clint thought it was a little convenient to just remember now about the vision.

"I was dying, Clint," said Jade. "Ask Bruce if you don't believe me. Plus I was delirious. I saw Death sitting on the back seat in the car waiting for me. It didn't even click for me until Bruce mentioned Strange's name and it sounded familiar."

He nodded and said sorry for seeming angry. Scott had an unrelated question.

"How many queens are there?" he said.

"I would guess it's like a bee hive, each nest has a queen?" said Jade. "I don't know much about bee hives."

"You're partially right," said Sam. "Each hive has a queen but without a queen they die. I think this queen has many nests that support her. The other part of your meeting, about Ma being your real mother. Don't you find it a little too coincidental that you survived four days in the Badlands when you were six and again just a few weeks ago for several days when you were almost dead? You're not a big person, you're quite slender. How did you manage to survive at all? Other than Dr. Strange's intervention."

"What do you mean Sam?" asked Bucky. "Do you think divine intervention was at play here?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But the cult seems to think so if they're looking for her."

"Strange said Jade is the key," said Ma. "It was her that first heard the queen. I think right now we make sure the cult don't get their hands on her."

Everybody agreed with that assessment. The meeting broke up and Jade ran out of the room. Ma watched her leave and bowed her head, wondering if she had damaged the relationship with her daughter forever. Bucky looked at her, gave a grim smile, and left to find Jade. He found her in the garage with the horses. Standing in the doorway he watched her gently stroking their necks, being nudged by them as she connected to their minds.

"You shouldn't be using your gift right now," he said. "If it leads the cult to you..."

She looked at him. "They're afraid," she said. "They can sense when there's danger and it's close already. Why me, Bucky? Why am I the key?"

He stepped forward but she stepped back behind the first horse. "Don't," she said softly. "You're not the one who the Others want, who the cult wants. It's a curse. It's always been a curse. I either die or be raped by a creepy old preacher."

"I won't let that happen," he said, stepping slowly forward. "I'll steal the quinjet and take you and Ben far away to where no one will ever find us. Ma, too, if you want her to come. Please, come to me."

She pushed her face into the horse so he wouldn't see her cry. He was almost to the first horse and it nickered softly at him.

"It's okay," he murmured, to her and to it, as he stroked its neck. "I won't hurt you. I only want to take care of you."

He was right in front of her between the two horses and he gently took her hand, pulling her to him. Enclosing her with his arms he pulled her into his chest and bent his head over hers. Slowly he took a step back with her, then another and another until they were away from the horses. Then he lifted her in his arms and took her to their room where he laid her on the bed and covered her up with the duvet before laying beside her on top of it.

"Just sleep, baby," he whispered. "I'm here with you until you sleep. No one can get past me to you."

She could feel his warmth through the duvet and it soothed her, feeling like a heater aimed at her back. As he kept whispering in his calm voice she closed her eyes and slept.

"Well there you are sunshine," said her father. "Where have you been hiding? Elder Abraham wants to see you."

Six year old Jade came out from the closet in her room. She had been hiding because she knew Elder Abraham was looking for her. She didn't like him. Not since that day when he put his hand down her shirt and touched her chest. She had tried to pull away but his other hand was on her back and he kept her close to him, too close to him.

"I don't want to see him Daddy," she whined. "He smells funny."

"Sshh, baby, he's our pastor, our leader," he said. "He's a great man and he thinks you're very important."

"No," she said and she refused to move. "Why can't you see that he's a liar? He's bad, Daddy. He touched me in a private place. Mom said he's a pedo something. Don't make me see him."

"Your Mom was cast out," he said sternly. "We don't say her name anymore. You shouldn't be saying lies about Elder Abraham. That's wicked and you can go to Hell for being wicked."

"Then I'll go to Hell!" screamed Jade. "Daddy, don't! NO!"

Bucky felt Jade tense up and start to shake as if she was trying to pull herself away from someone or something. He tried to wake her up but she resisted until she sat up screaming. Pulling her into his arms he stroked her hair and back as she wept.

"He was a pedophile," she spat out, as she cried, "the whole cult, they were following a pedophile. I wouldn't submit to him so he called me wicked, cursed, an abomination, and he cast me out. My father chose him over me. Oh, Bucky, I'm terrified. They're going to find me and make me join them. We have to stop them."

As he calmed her down Bucky's mind whirled with ideas on dealing with the cult for the other Avengers to consider. They couldn't go after the Others until Dr. Strange contacted them. But they could have another mission. To find and disband the Children of Adam and put Elder Abraham behind bars. He heard a knock on their suite door. Opening it he saw Wanda and Ma, both with a worried look on their faces. Looking behind him, he closed the door and stepped out into the hallway.

"You know what she dreamed of?" he asked.

"I know," said Ma. "I reported them when I was cast out but they put on such a pious show of lies that the police brushed it off."

"She's terrified they're going to force her to join them," said Bucky.

"She's right to be," said Wanda. "I had a vision. It was dark, very dark. This cult is evil. They want her to have Abraham's child so that it has her powers and he'll use the child to bring about an apocalypse, using the Others to kill those who don't submit. They'll use Jade and the child to shield them from the Others. They have gold, lots of it. That's why the traffickers offered you gold for Jade. He's got them all looking for her."

"I won't let them take her," he said. "I'll take the quinjet and take her far away."

"It won't be far enough," said Ma, sadly. "John has a link with her now, a tenuous one but he can build it. Eventually they will find you and take her from you, over your dead body if they have to."

The door opened behind Bucky to reveal Jade standing there.

"If you're going to talk about me you might as well do it to my face," she said, turning back into the room but leaving the door open.

The others followed her in where she stood facing them in the centre of the room.

"We have to stop them," she said. "Not just to keep them from taking me but for the kids they are abusing now. Abraham is a monster with an appetite for children. I can't stay here knowing that he's alive."

"You want him dead?" asked Bucky. "Jade, I won't kill. No matter what he's done, I'm not a killer anymore."

"Then I'll kill him," she said. "Wanda, Ma, I need to up my abilities. If they take me they will bring me to him. I'll be close enough to kill him."

Bucky tried to intervene.

"Leave me alone. I accept that you won't kill him."

"Jade," he pleaded. "Let the Avengers handle him. We'll come up with a plan. I'll bring it to them right away."

"He's right," said Ma. "They're dangerous people. Jade, let them move against him. If you go, they'll hurt you, bad."

"Alright," she agreed. "Bring it to everyone. I'm willing to let the professionals handle it."

Ma and Bucky left to organize a meeting. Jade looked at Wanda.

"You'll help me? asked Jade. "I've seen it. They won't be successful."

"I'll help you," said Wanda. "You'll have to block yourself from your mother. She can't know. Let's be straight about this. You plan to kill him with your mind, not a weapon."

"My mind will be the weapon," replied Jade, looking coolly at Wanda. "I might have to kill my father as well."

"Jade, are you sure you can kill?" asked Wanda. "I've done it. It will affect your soul, permanently. There's no going back."

"I'm certain," she said out loud. "It has to be done."

She moved to the door and opened it. Wanda joined her and they both left the room. Bucky and Ma had alerted everyone to a meeting in the common room. Bucky and Steve were standing at the side talking in a low voice to each other. Jade could see Steve wasn't happy about anything Bucky was saying.

"Bucky called the meeting but it's about a vision I just had," she said loudly. "We can't go after the Others yet, but there is another group we need to handle. We need to stop the Children of Adam."

"Why?" asked Sam. "What have they done?"

"They're the group that cast out Ma, then me when I was six years old," she said. "I always believed it was because my abilities frightened them but it was more than that. I wouldn't submit. Their leader, Elder Abraham is a pedophile. He abuses children. He also believes that I'm meant to rejoin the cult and bear his child. They're going to come looking for me. I ask that you take them out first."

As everyone talked at once Ma looked at Jade, several times. Each time her face grew more and more alarmed.

"Why are you blocking me, Jade?" she suddenly blurted out loud. "What is it that you don't want to me to see?"

Everyone stopped talking and looked at the two women, mother and daughter.

"Again, why are you blocking me from your mind?" demanded her mother, pulling on Jade's arm.

"Because you'll try to stop me from killing Elder Abraham, and possibly killing my father," said Jade, looking in her in the eye. "Dear old Dad is the one looking for me. Without him, they can't find me. Abraham is a pedophile, a monster who preys on children. He doesn't deserve to live. After all they've done to us, to me, don't I get to have the justice they deserve?"

"Killing them isn't the answer," interrupted Bucky. "Trust me on this. It scars you for life. I have many scars from killing. I remember every single one. Bring them to justice, yes. Killing them, no."

"Jade, we're going to launch a mission against the cult," said Steve, stepping in between her and her mother. "But we will turn Abraham and your father over to the authorities."

"What if the authorities are part of the cult?" she asked. "What if the reason the traffickers have been allowed to flourish in Albuquerque is because they provide children to Abraham. They have gold. Clint, you said yourself that gold always makes a difference. No authorities."

Bucky and Ma looked at each other then at Jade. Neither were happy at the state of Jade's mind. Something dark had seized her and was influencing her. That a mission to stop the cult was necessary was openly accepted by the group. Steve stood next to Bucky and they both looked at each other, realizing that the proposal to kill Abraham and possibly Jade's father could tear the group apart. How to prevent that was going to be a lot more difficult.

Chapter 8>>

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bt5bby · 2 years ago

Text

Hello 👋🏻

I will spare you the long reason why this story took me forever… but I finally got it into the editing website I use which was my biggest hurdle for 2 months. 😅 (sorry if it’s a bit disjointed too)

Anyway, here is Namjoonie’s story… Lonely.

Warning ⚠️ - Graphic child birth, Mpreg, mentions of rape and sexual slavery(kinda), mention of threats/violence, sick children.

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Namjoon heaved against the bed posts. His body was ready to give in and pass out, but he knew he couldn't. He had to continue to work hard, holding his legs in the correct position and using all his strength.

Oh, how he wished he had someone else here. He didn't want to do this alone. He wanted someone holding his hand, encouraging him, telling him how well he was doing and that it was nearly over. He wished he didn't have to do this in his crappy apartment, hours away from anyone he knew.

He wanted to be at a hospital, safe and secure. People tell him what to do and how to do it. He wanted to ensure everything would be ok, but he wasn't at a hospital. He didn't have anyone around him to help, and he didn't know if everything was ok. He was alone, giving birth to his baby in a dank apartment in a city far away from his home.

He screamed again, feeling the pain of a contraction. He had been at it for hours, pushing as hard as he could but not finding any real progress. When the pain stopped, he laid his head back again, struggling to catch his breath between sobs.

All he could do was cry. Cry and wait for the next contraction, which wasn't far away, and then start pushing again. The pain was worse than he imagined, but he was determined to do this. He chose to keep his baby, and now he would bring it to life, even if it killed him.

He pleaded with it internally as if the baby could hear him while in his body. 'Please come out. I can't take much more!' He screamed again, the next contraction clenching his muscles to push the baby out of his body.

Before he was in the mid stages of his labour, he walked around the house, thinking just how lucky he was that his baby was tiny. The nurse he saw last told him that he was a bit underweight.

Namjoon regretted doing all he could to ensure his baby was born at an average weight for those last two months. He was sure that the baby must have grown into a bowling ball or something because as he felt the head starting to push his hole open, he swore he nearly tore it in half.

The scream that left his mouth was so shrill he was sure it had set off the dog 10 blocks over. Namjoon was just thankful that the place he lived in was so poor that none cared enough to call the police. They would all just ignore him.

With the next push, Namjoon felt his hole stretch around the broadest part of the baby's head. He must be so close to crowning. Namjoon was sure he could feel the top of the baby's head on the next push. He wept more, hearing another ding from his phone beside him.

He had turned off all GPS and signals, routing the location to a different place every few days to make it look like he was constantly moving, but he kept it on. He had never changed his number, just in case he needed something. Just in case he decided to go back.

The noise drew his attention away momentarily, and he looked at the phone. As much as he had it, he didn't really use it. In fact, it had been several weeks since he unlocked it. He didn't need to do everything he could on his phone; he could do it on his laptop, which was much harder to track. He looked at the phone screen light up, seeing a message from another of his old band members.

They had been piling up for a long time, showing all on the notifications board on his phone. Six individual chats pinging away over time. He had read each one and never replied, but he read them all. They made his heart hurt every time, but he wouldn't stop. He liked to torture himself. He cried a little harder reading the message from his friends.

"I still don't even know if you are reading these, but it makes me feel better." The text read. "I don't know what happened, and I don't know why, but know that wherever you are, I'm always here, right where you left me."

Namjoon screamed again, the next contraction ripping through his body again. He sent a hand down to feel between his legs, the baby's head was now sticking out slightly, and he could feel the hair on its head. "I miss you, and wherever you are, I hope you're safe and happy." He finished.

Namjoon hiccuped his sobs from his chest. He tried so hard to calm his breathing, but now the added stress of the message really made him feel lightheaded. Just thinking about the boy made Namjoon's heart flutter.

He was at a loss for words, but that could have been the intense pain making him numb to all thinking. He mentally replied to the message, pouring his heart out until the next contraction came. This time Namjoon pushed his very hardest. He felt slightly more determined to get his baby out.

The boys had always strengthened him, even when they weren't there. With the force of the push, he managed to get most of the head out. He felt a tear as the baby reached the widest part of its skull, but he powered through it. It didn't even hurt, not compared to the rest of it. He doubled down, his contractions seeming much quicker after such a hard push, the pressure coming again.

Namjoon felt the baby's nose pop out, pushing past his tight rim. He was also relieved that the baby hadn't inherited his chin. He barely felt it pop out. Once the whole head was out, Namjoon gave himself a rest. He had seen many birth videos online, and most of them got the mother to wait after pushing the head out, not pushing in that contraction, but god, was it hard.

Every fibre in his body pleaded with him to get the big intrusion out of his body. "Ok, just a few more." He cheered to himself out loud.

He breathed through the first contraction, struggling to keep his pushes at bay, but he did it. Now it was time for the baby to get the fuck out. He pushed as hard as he could. He gently turned the baby, angling the shoulders to not hurt the arms.

Namjoon had been mortified when he saw some babies come out with dislocated shoulders. He couldn't let that happen. He would keep his baby safe.

The final contractions really hit hard for the once-great leader. He screamed for the next three, pushing as hard as possible. He felt the small baby slide out of his body, and a loud wail erupted from the tiny creature.

Namjoon sobbed a little harder, hearing his baby. He wasn't sure if it was relief or just his emotional outlet, but when he reached forward and picked the blood-covered thing up, he and it just sat for a few minutes, crying.

The new father took a few deep breaths to calm himself down and started to rock his baby. He still wasn't finished yet, and he knew it. He had to push the placenta out, cut the umbilical cord and make sure he wasn't bleeding to death all before he could stay with his baby, but calming them down for a few seconds wouldn't hurt.

He waited until the crying died and then sat the small thing to his side on a towel he had placed beforehand. He wrapped them up, so they were warm and then went back to pushing the placenta out. It took him another few minutes, but once he was sure it was mostly out, he used the cord to pull the rest, letting out a tiny wail once it left his body. He was so sore. Everything ached, and he was so tired.

All he wanted to do was cry. Cry and hug his baby and have someone hug him. God, he missed his friends and his family. He didn't want to be alone, but he had to. The baby let out another whimper, and he quickly picked it back up. He'd come to realise he was never alone.

Finally, he could have a good look at his little bundle. He looked down at the baby, cooing instantly. The small little nose, soft lips, and puffy eyes were all adorable to him. He moved the towel to get a good look at the baby.

He had never found out the gender when he got his scan. He felt bad for neglecting the health problems of not checking the baby properly, but he couldn't risk going to the hospital more than once.

They would report him if they picked up on who he really was. He would have to go back, and he couldn't. So now was the first time he would know his baby's gender. He took a deep breath, trying not to think about how creepy it felt to look at his baby's privates purposefully and look.

He let out a happy cry seeing his baby girl. He had a little girl. He moved her closer to his chest, making sure she remained warm. "Hello, baby." He chuckled wetly. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm your Appa."

He didn't know whether to call himself an Appa, but he couldn't see himself as anything else. This wasn't supposed to be his life, but with his little girl in his arms, he couldn't regret it.

It took Namjoon a few days to get used to life with a baby now. It was hard for him because he was doing it alone.

He was sleep deprived, hungry from not having time or energy to go out to get food for himself, and a bit grotty because nipping off to shower couldn't happen, but he was trying his best. He had been sore the first two days, just staying around his room, looking after the baby and laying in bed.

He couldn't really do much anyways because he couldn't leave. He barely kept the two alive for the first week, but things felt better for the second week.

He set the little girl down for a sleep on the seventh day and quickly nipped in for a shower. The feeling of water on his skin was amazing but short-lived, as he had to get back out before she woke up. He ordered groceries online and delivered them to the apartment, and once he managed all that, he got a good night's sleep. His little girl had been wonderful the whole time.

He was so happy with her until the third week arrived. It started off on the Tuesday night of the third week. The little thing seemed fussy throughout her dinner, making Namjoon anxious.

She didn't have much, and then she was quiet until the two had been asleep for about 35 minutes. A loud wail emitted from her tiny lungs, alerting her Appa.

Namjoon shot awake, bolting to the baby. "Hey, honey, what's wrong?" He cooed, picking her up. He checked her nappy, seeing if it needed to be changed. No, so he figured she was hungry again. She hadn't eaten before, so he tried to feed her, but she didn't take to that either. He frowned. Maybe she needed to burp again?

He laid her over his shoulder, patting her back, but again nothing came up. Finally, he figured she just wanted some soothing. He began to rock her back and forth, swaying his hips to keep her calm. "Shhhh baby, Appa's got you." He said sweetly.

She continued to wail until she was exhausted, pretty much passing out. Namjoon sighed and laid her down in the crib. He wondered what must have been wrong, but he figured maybe she was just fussy tonight. Maybe something disagreed with her. He noted to keep an eye on her the next day and then went back to sleep.

Namjoon started to panic on the third day of this. For the second day, she seemed to be mostly fine like the day before, just a bit whiny. On the third day, however, she really started to fuss.

Right from the moment she awoke at 5 in the morning, she started wailing. Namjoon rushed to her side, quick to soothe her, offering food and cuddles. The baby quieted but never really stopped her whining.

Every little thing seemed to set her off, and she would scream loudly, ensuring everyone on the whole level could hear her.

Namjoon was starting to become stressed and worried. Was there something wrong with his baby? Had he hurt her in some way? He thought he was doing well. He tried his hardest not to become upset but lost the battle.

He managed to get her down for a small nap in the middle of the day, probably out of exhaustion again, allowing him time to calm himself, but it hit its peak at around 6 in the night.

She screamed and screamed, crying and wriggling around in his arms. Her little face was scrunched up, with tears running down her red face. He felt like he had hit a wall, his emotions bursting as he cried. "I'm sorry! I don't know what you need." He sobbed along with her.

He was rocking back and forth again, trying to soothe her with a dummy, but she kept spitting it out.

"I've tried everything." Namjoon pleaded with the baby. He was beyond worried about his little one, the stress eating him inside. The final straw was a loud thumping on the wall beside his bedroom. "Shut that fucking baby up, or I'll come and shut it up for you!" A person yelled. Namjoon only cried harder along with his baby.

Great, even the druggies think he's a bad parent.

He had to do something for her. She was clearly suffering for some reason, and he couldn't fix it alone. He had avoided the hospital at all costs, but now he had to take the risk. He couldn't lose his baby.

Namjoon packed a bag of overnight things for him and the baby and then strapped her into a carrier. He pulled out his phone, which he had turned off for several days, and called for an Uber. He ignored the pings on his phone as he quickly ordered the car to take him to the hospital and then went to the curb to wait.

It was now in the middle of winter, so he wrapped the baby in two blankets while dressing her in a thick onesie, a beanie, little mittens and some thick socks. He pulled the cover-up over the carrier, ensuring no wind blew into her face.

He had an old jacket on. It was a bit tight as he still had a lot of baby fat, but he didn't care about himself. He would take his jacket off if his baby needed more cover.

Thankfully, the man quickly arrived, helping Namjoon strap the car seat in and start to drive. The car was warm inside, so Namjoon pulled the blankets down to try and calm the baby again. Her cries were still loud but not as bad as before.

"Is she ok?" The driver asked worriedly. Namjoon sniffled. "I don't know. I'm gonna take her to the hospital." He admitted. The man nodded, telling Namjoon he would get them there quickly but safely.

Namjoon greatly appreciated it and then went back to comforting his girl. The man kept true to his word, and they were at the hospital no less than 20 minutes later.

Namjoon thanked the man, giving him a nice tip for being so helpful and then rushed into the ICU. He moved to the reception and placed the carrier on the desk. "Hello, how may I help you?" The lady asked.

Namjoon looked at her with a red face and teary eyes. "Hi, I need someone to check up on my baby. She has been crying nonstop all day, and I don't know what she needs. She won't eat as much, only sleeps if she's worn out completely, and she just doesn't stop crying." He rushed, feeling very agitated. He wanted her looked after right now.

"Can you tell me how old she is?" The lady asked, standing up to look in at the small baby, crying in the carrier. "She's just under four weeks old," Namjoon said. "And was she born ok? Early or anything?"

Namjoon didn't know, but he was sure she was born around when she was supposed to be. "She was born around 37 weeks." He admitted. The lady said that was fine.

She looked over at the little one, not seeing anything wrong, but she could tell that the crying wasn't just a hungry or tired cry.

"Alright, have you been to this hospital before?" Namjoon stilled. He would have to give their information. "No, I haven't." He said.

The lady nodded. "Ok, I'll need you to fill out some forms and get some information about your previous consultant so we can cross-check for a better diagnosis, but I have put you through to the NICU, and they will look after her immediately."

Namjoon nodded thankfully to the lady. He grabbed the board with the forms on it and then followed her to the NICU. A nurse approached them once they entered the wing and took Namjoon's baby from him.

"Follow me, sweetie. I'll check on her." The lady smiled at Namjoon. He did as told and moved into the room, sitting on a chair anxiously as the lady began to assess the baby. "You fill out those forms, and I'll do a quick exam of this little one." She smiled down at the little girl.

Namjoon nodded and hesitantly began to fill the forms out. He knew he would have to show ID, so lying was pointless. He really just wanted his baby to be ok. He filled the form out quickly and then placed it to the side, moving to stand by his child.

"She seemed to have shallow breathing. Did you say she was born early?" The lady asked. Namjoon shook his head. "I'm fairly sure she was born around 37 weeks." The lady frowned. "And you said that she hasn't been feeding right either?" Namjoon nodded.

"She'll take for a little while and then stop. She's only had like 3 feeds in the last day." Namjoon worried. The nurse nodded and looked back down, putting on her stethoscope and listening to the baby's breathing. "How long has she been like this?" She asked.

Namjoon sighed. "She started to fuss two days ago, but only today has she been really bad. She ate fine most of the time, maybe briefly, but then stopped today."

The nurse took a mental note and then stood up. "It seems like she's got some respiratory problems. I'll need to take an X-ray of her chest to make sure nothing is stuck. I'll start her on some oxygen to keep her breathing normal. I'll need to ask some questions about your birth and history." The lady said.

Namjoon felt anxious, but he had to find out what was wrong. He would give all the information he needed to get his baby girl healthy again. The nurse left to set up the oxygen machine and hand in the forms Namjoon had filled out.

The nurse in reception filled out the information in the system. She looked over the previous physician's list and found it empty. She frowned, wondering why he would have left it empty. "I'm going back in now. Can you page me when the X-ray is available?" The other nurse said. The lady nodded and went back to her job.

Namjoon watched as the lady taped a breathing tube onto his baby's face, keeping the tube in her nose. "This will help. Then we can discover the main problem once she's back to normal breathing." The nurse smiled calmly at Namjoon, making him feel better. He thanked her, relieved.

"So, I have some questions about what might be wrong." Namjoon nodded and looked at the lady. "The birth, was it problematic in any way?" Namjoon hung his head.

"Yes, it was quite stressful." He admitted. The lady nodded. "Was there anything wrong with her at the time? No breathing problems. The cord wasn't around her throat?"

"No, she was fine when she was born." The lady scrunched her nose, thinking for a moment. "What did the doctor say at her first check-up?" She asked. Namjoon awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his girl.

"She hasn't gone for a check-up. This is her first one." He knew it sounded bad, but they had been doing well... The lady looked at him concerned.

"She was supposed to have a check at 3-5 days? Didn't your previous doctor tell you that when you got released after the birth?" Namjoon shook his head. "I had her at my house. T-there wasn't a nurse there." He made his tone soft, nearly a whisper.

"What?" She asked, a bit surprised at what she thought she had heard. "I had her by myself at my house. I couldn't make it to a doctor." The nurse was stunned. She wondered how the man had managed all by himself and why he hadn't taken the baby to a hospital sooner.

"I can't really afford it." He lied. He could afford it but didn't want to get turned in.

The nurse gave him a sympathetic look and then repeated the questions. "So would you say it was a hard birth? Sometimes a stressful birth can cause problems." The lady said. Namjoon shrugged shamefully.

He had never given birth before, so he didn't know if it was hard. "I'm sorry, I'm still new to all of this." He felt bad for not being more of a help.

The lady shook her head. "It's alright. The X-rays will give me a good hint at what is going on." She smiled. Namjoon nodded and relaxed, the lady leaving him until she had to come back for the X-rays.

He moved over to the seat by his baby, looking at her now calm little face. She was fast asleep, probably tired from being up for so long. He, too, decided to get some shut-eye, dozing off in the chair.

About half an hour later, the lady returned to the room, waking Namjoon up to go for the test. He stayed with his little girl the whole way, ensuring she was ok.

The lady was very happy with her behaviour throughout the procedure, giving her a little stuffed toy to sleep with. Namjoon smiled happily as his little girl was just about the same size as the teddy bear she was given.

"It will take a little while for the results to check them over. You can both return to the room. I'm sure you'll want a rest." Namjoon thanked the nurse again, returning to the room for more sleep.

He fed his little girl just before putting her to sleep again and then dozed himself. They managed a good two hours before the nurse came to get him.

"Thankfully, we have found nothing serious. I let you guys have a bit longer to sleep, knowing that you might need it." She smiled. Namjoon was incredibly thankful.

"She has asthma. It's not a bad case, either. It is probably just worse because of the cold. She will get prescribed a puffer and spacer. I'll teach you how to use it if you don't know. Give her one to two puffs when you think her breathing is getting shallow, and she should be good."

Namjoon sighed in relief. He could cry hearing the news. In fact, he did. Fat tears started to spill out of his eyes.

"She's not dying." He breathed heavily, burying his face into his hands with a relieved chuckle. The lady moved closer and touched his back, reassuringly rubbing it.

"No, your baby girl is just fine. In fact, apart from asthma, she's very healthy. She could be much worse from what you said about the birth." Namjoon looked up at the lady. "You're doing a great job at taking care of her." She smiled, and Namjoon couldn't hold the need to hug the girl back. He jumped off the bed and wrapped her in a hug.

The nurse chuckled and patted his back again. "Thank you so much." He sniffled, moving away once he realised how inappropriate he was being.

"It's ok. I assume it's stressful to be a new parent, especially a single one." She said with a soft smile. Namjoon nodded, slightly ashamed, but he knew she wasn't judging him. "Once I fill out the prescription, you both can go home." She smiled.

Namjoon was beyond ready to head back to his house. He was so happy that the lady was so nice, but he didn't want to risk being out in public more than necessary.

About an hour later, Namjoon said goodbye to the nurses and took his baby home. The kind lady smiled and waved him off before turning back to the other nurse at the desk.

"So we just send his reference to the outpatients." She said. The nurse nodded and brought up his file. Her face fell slightly, and she looked back to the nurse. "Wait, is that his name?" She asked.

"Yeah, Namjoon. Why?" She furrowed her brow at the weird reaction. "He's part of a missing persons case. We have an alert to look out for him." The nurse looked back out the glass windows after Namjoon. She felt bad for the guy. She didn't know the reasons for his life. Maybe he was kidnapped, maybe he was raped or domestically assaulted.

"We have mandatory reporting." The other lady said, looking sad as well. Both ladies sighed, knowing there was nothing they could do. It was law, and they had families to look after.

Namjoon had been having a much easier time with his little girl now. Just before she went to sleep, he would give her two puffs of the inhaler and ensure she was snuggled up in warm blankets. He bought an air humidifier to help with the cold air as soon as possible.

His little girl had been doing fine. He managed another week by himself with no problems until the crying returned. He worked through the first night, rocking her gently and calming her down.

He decided to sleep in the chair beside her cot that night, knowing she always slept better when he was around. He wondered whether she could sense his presence. Maybe she just needed to be with her daddy.

However, his idea was spoiled the next night when she wouldn't calm down, even when he held her. "No, please don't start this again. Appa is trying his hardest." Namjoon sighed, feeling his own emotion bubbling again.

He rocked, changed, fed, and gave her her puffer, yet she still wouldn't stop crying. "I'm sorry I'm not a good parent. I'm sorry I can't fix this." He cried again. He couldn't stop the thoughts if only he had help.

"Are you sure this was the address?" Jin asked, eyeing the building. It was run down and creepy looking. They had already heard 3 different sirens going off in the last 10 minutes, indicating how bad the neighbourhood was.

"Yes, this is where the investigator said he was." Yoongi sighed. The six boys all gave each other a nervous look and then headed into the stairwell to go up the floors.

"There isn't even an elevator? What type of place is this?" Taehyung whined as they approached the second set of stairs. Jungkook rolled his eyes at his lazy Hyung, joking about the older wanting the others to carry him up the stairs.

"Don't tempt me." Tae quipped back as they started onto the third set of stairs.

"God, Namjoon Hyung had to do this every day?" Jimin questioned as they topped the third. The others all shrugged, finding it not hard, just annoying.

"We still don't know this is him," Yoongi said cautiously. He didn't want to be a downer but wouldn't get his hopes up. They had been looking for Namjoon for the last 5 months. It had been a rough time, and hope could only last them so long. "Let's not hold our breath." He warned, finally coming to the top of the fourth stairs.

He looked around at the fifth floor they were now on. It was dinky and smelt of cigarettes and piss. He couldn't believe that their leader would live in a place like this. They all took a deep breath and then moved to the 5th apartment.

This was the address the investigator had given him, and as much as this place was horrible, he fucking hoped it was right. Only so many times can you tell yourself that it doesn't hurt.

They approached the door, silence among them. "I'm sorry I'm not a good parent. I'm sorry I can't fix this." A voice echoed through the paper-thin door. They could hear the sound of a loud baby crying, but they all were only focused on Namjoon.

"T-that voice... it's familiar." Hoseok whispered just loud enough that they all heard. The others all agreed, which made them all even more anxious. "There's nothing I can do! I'm failing." The voice called again with loud hiccups and sobs.

"Joon-!" Jungkook tried to call, but Jin put his hand over his mouth. "Shhh, don't yell. You'll scare him away." They remained quiet momentarily, hoping they hadn't given themselves away.

"God, I think I'm going crazy." A chuckle came from inside the apartment. "I can hear them. Your uncles. They always come to me when I need them." The boys' hearts ached to hear their leader talk about them.

"I miss them with all my heart." He said. "And I'm sorry you won't ever know how much they would have loved you." He sniffled again. "You would have been the light of their lives like mine."

All the boys had the exact same thought at that moment. Jimin, closest to the door, rushed forward and gripped the handle. He was surprised when the door opened, making a mental note to scold Namjoon about locking the doors later.

All six rushed in, finding the big leader looking up stunned in the middle of the floor.

The apartment Namjoon rented wasn't very big. It was a small studio apartment, but that's all he needed. He was trying to save money for the baby's later life, so the small room was enough for a single parent.

He had been crying on the floor with his baby in his arms when he heard his door burst open. He gasped and looked up, expecting to find a bunch of robbers or maybe busy police doing a search of the building. He did not expect to see the six boys he was talking about.

His eyes were so wide he was sure they would pop out of his head. Everything froze, and his little girl must have sensed a change in the room because she had stopped crying.

"Joonie?" Jin asked, looking at the tall boy on the floor with a baby in his arms.

Namjoon didn't want to move, scared that anything he might do would be wrong. He wholeheartedly wanted this to be his friends, his favourite people coming to find him, but he knew this wasn't good. This would make things so much worse.

"It's us, Namjoon-ah," Yoongi said softly, putting his arms out to show he meant no harm. Namjoon didn't need to swallow to feel the lump in his throat. It was so big that he almost thought it was blocking his breathing, but he knew that wasn't true. He was blocking his own breathing. "You can't be here." He choked out after more silence. The six boys looked at him cautiously.

"But we are. We are here for you." Jimin smiled, trying to show Namjoon their love, but the leader shook his head. He felt his tears returning, and he was positive he couldn't stop them. His whole body began to shake as he looked at the six.

"You have to leave. You have to leave." He chanted a few times with a fragile voice. "Please go away." He turned back down to his baby and held her closer.

"Hey Joon, it's ok. We aren't going to judge you." Hoseok reassured the boy, thinking he was nervous over the baby, but Namjoon kept rocking himself, telling them to go away. He pulled the small baby to his chest and tried to curl in on himself.

"If I close my eyes, you'll go away." He mumbled. The boys were concerned that he wasn't as mentally stable as once.

"Namjoonie, we aren't going anywhere. We just found you again." Jin said, trying to keep his voice happy and hopeful.

"Please, Hyung," Jungkook said. "We can go home now." Namjoon shot his head up, looking at the youngest.

"I can't go home. I can never go home." He said, his voice very clear and low.

Everyone was a bit stunned by the sudden firmness in his voice. "Why not Joon-ah?" Yoongi asked. He made the first attempt to get closer to the boy. He crouched down and went to rest a hand on Namjoon's shoulder, but the boy flinched away.

"Somebody did this to you, didn't they?" Taehyung asked, watching the leader intensely. It seemed obvious that Namjoon had been forced into something he didn't want. "Who did this? We can help you." Tae encouraged, joining Yoongi by the leader.

Namjoon shook his head and held his baby tighter. She fussed slightly at the tight grip, so Namjoon quickly let go again.

"Who hurt you, Namjoon? We will find them and make them pay." Jimin's face was stone cold. His voice was laced with venom. He was ready to beat whoever hurt his leader, friend, and brother.

"No, no, I can't. He said he'd hurt you if I did." Namjoon choked on another sob, starting to work himself up again.

"He can't hurt us, Hyung. We will find him and make him pay for hurting you." Jungkook held a fist up, showing that he meant to use it. There was silence for a moment, waiting for Namjoon to answer. "We are going to help you, Joonie. We will fix this. I'll take a DNA test of that baby to fix this if I have to." Jin said. Once again, Namjoon hugged the baby closer, thinking about his baby being used against him.

"Tell us who did this." Yoongi finally managed to touch the boy without him flinching away. He held his chin, lifting his face to look into his eyes.

"It started last year." He said, looking straight into Yoongi's eyes, though the rapper could tell he wasn't focused.

"Mr Lee approached me after dance and said I was falling behind." Namjoon's voice shook as he told his friends his biggest secret. "He offered me extra time to dance, and I wanted to be better for you all." He blinked a few times, trying to keep his tears away. "It didn't happen until the fourth time I stayed back." He could feel the tension from the rest of the group, so he kept his eyes on Yoongi. "I went to the bathroom after I finished the extra practice when he came in. I freaked out at him, telling him he was a weirdo for barging in when he knew I was there, but he just laughed at me. He pushed me against the wall of the cubical and started to touch me." Namjoon's voice broke the more he spoke. "I tried hard to fight back but was tired after all the practices. He had been making me stay back so he could wear me out, and then he struck when I was weakest." Namjoon took a moment, collecting his thoughts before he continued again. "After he raped me, he took pictures of me and said if I told anyone, he would leak them. I was so scared, so I didn't do anything." Namjoon felt ashamed. His pride had gotten him into this mess. "Eventually, I told him that I didn't care anymore. I wouldn't put up with this, but then Tae fell down the stairs, Jin Hyung nearly got hit with the sandbag on stage, and Hobi got the knife in the mail." The boys' eyes all widened, looking at Namjoon. "He said he would hurt you all if I told anyone." Finally breaking eye contact with Yoongi, Namjoon hung his head, looking down at his daughter. "Then, on the 5th of May, I found out I was pregnant. I told him I would get rid of the baby, but he told me not to. He said he would hurt everyone if I got rid of the baby, and then he told me to run away. He wanted me gone." Namjoon felt a hand on his shoulder but didn't look up.

"Joonie, you didn't have to protect us," Jin said, his voice weak.

"He got into our house once, he left death threats for Jimin, but I got them first. I couldn't risk letting you all get hurt." Namjoon sniffled, seeing how sad his friends looked at his sacrifice for them. "He could have done anything to us when we slept when we weren't home. I couldn't risk it." Namjoon looked up. "Not once I had my baby."

The others all gathered around him close. They hadn't forgotten the seriousness of the conversation, but they knew not to push too hard. Taehyung got down on his knees, looking at the small girl. "What's her name?" He asked with a kind smile. He touched her foot, giving it a cute little shake.

Namjoon frowned and looked down at her. "I...I haven't named her yet." He admitted.

"What? Why not?" Jimin furrowed his brows at the father. The baby must have been a few weeks old by then, and she still didn't have a name.

"I don't know. I couldn't think of a name for her. They all made me sad. Wondering if I was picking the right one for her to have her whole life."

Namjoon looked at her soft little face. She had finally drifted off to sleep, calm from the people surrounding her. "I didn't have anyone to tell me whether it was a good name." The leader shrugged. There was silence again for a moment until the youngest spoke.

"What about Sook-sun?" Namjoon looked to Jungkook, contemplating the name. "It means pureness for Sook and goodness for Sun. It would be pure goodness." The suggestion warmed Namjoon's heart.

He thought about it for a while, looking back at his baby. He gave a small chuckle when her nose wiggled in her sleep. "Sook-sun. I love it." He smiled brightly. Jungkook grinned at the two, happy to be able to help.

"It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl," Jin said, placing a hand on Namjoon's shoulder. "She is pure goodness to us all," Tae added.

Namjoon felt his heart soar. His friends were amazing. Not even knowing about the little baby for more than an hour, they all looked down at her with endless love.

"You're an amazing parent Joon-ah." Hoseok admired the leader's skill. "She's such an amazing little human already." He added, happy to be able to make Namjoon smile wider. "We won't let her be alone again, and neither will you," Jimin said strongly.

The tone of the voice made shivers run down Namjoon's back. "We are going to sue that man for everything he's worth. You're coming home with us, and we aren't accepting no." Yoongi insisted, crossing his arms, so they knew he really meant it.

"H-how can I go back?" Namjoon asked quietly. "I can't be in the band with a baby. Not to mention I've lost all talent I had. I'll be right back at square one." Namjoon sighed, but the others scoffed.

"Lost your talent? As if you ever could." Hoseok chuckled at the stupid words of the leader. "Joon-ah, you have more talent in your little finger than anyone else could." Namjoon looked up with sparkling eyes. He hated that he wanted to cry once again, but his hormones were still a mess. "Nothing could stop us from wanting you to come back, Hyung. We will all help you with Sunni." Namjoon smiled at his baby's nickname already.

"We will work everything out." Taehyung looked at the others, seeing them all agreeing with him. They would bring Namjoon home...

Because they would never leave him behind. They found him now, and he wasn't going anywhere again. They were always 7.

#bts pregnancy blog #pregnant Namjoon

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