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royallyjoon · 3 years

Text

nephilim (quatre)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere! ot7 x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, violence, manipulation

undoubtedly, the boys have opened their arms and hearts to you. but have you done the same? life has only gotten more stressful for you, and the closer you find yourself getting to them, the more you feel as though you are changing, and the more you push yourself away. you refuse to break. never forget: one’s hubris could be their hamartia. forge your lonely path with conviction. after all, it may not be yours for much longer. the victor or the fallen--exactly who is it that stands to lose the most?

——————————————————————

For a long time now, you had feared that your relatively peaceful days in Ichabod were coming to an end, and recent events only further proved your point.

Mana’s forewarning carried its weight well, as Aemilia seemed dead set on making an enemy of you. She went from hardly acknowledging your existence to cursing it.

She would never lift a finger to do her dirty work, oh no, for how could the delicate Augustus princess stoop so low as to take the garbage out herself?

No, she used her puppets Brooklyn, Constance, and whoever else she managed to sink her claws into in the student body to torment you.

They tripped you in the halls, stole your belongings, and essentially made it difficult for you to bleed into the background like you used to.

Luckily for you, you happened to gain some formidable allies.

Mana was there to tell Aemilia’s lackeys to back down, and they wouldn’t dare approach you with Jimin around. And he happened to be around more often than not, strangely enough.

The three of you managed to form a strange alliance during this time. Your best friend was still extremely cautious around Jimin and his siblings, as were you, but they had gotten somewhat closer, which made you glad. You didn’t want to be the bridge between them, as you thought that would be tiring and more than you could already handle.

Still, the two were only human. They wouldn’t always be there to defend you. Nevertheless, you were quite capable of defending yourself.

You didn’t give Aemilia the satisfaction of breaking under her pressure. You held your head up high despite the amounts of rumors flying around the school about you, even if they made you want to split your own skull open.

The student body, in part, was divided. Half of them wanted nothing to do with you, considering how you were associated with both the Augustuses and the Kims. They were wary of your actions, claiming you were steps away from meeting Wylynne herself.

The other half whispered about how tired they were of Aemilia’s antics and tantrums, given that this was not the first time she had behaved like this toward another student.

Two weeks passed by, and neither you nor Aemilia was giving in. The strawberry blonde was beside herself, and so were her poor friends. Every day that she failed to teach you a lesson was another day she went raving mad in private.

Soon enough, her patience would snap. She would find herself going over the tipping point, but the question remains: Who would stand to lose the most when she got there?

It was another stressful day for you at Ichabod Academy as you sat in your lively homeroom.

Mana rested on your desk, laying their head on their arms. You figured they would be uncomfortable, considering the way their body was twisted around in their seat, but your friend was drifting off without a care in the world.

You slumped in your chair, looking every bit as done with life as you had recently felt. There was so much you had to be on the lookout for, and today was no different.

You blinked tiredly and looked at your best friend. You then decided to lay your head on top of Mana’s, who did nothing more than let out a grunt, and closed your eyes in an attempt to get some rest as well.

When Jimin returned from the restroom, he internally cooed at the sight.

Your head started rocking back and forth as it tilted dangerously on top of Mana’s. Ensuring he wouldn’t wake you, the boy sat you up and leaned your body on him so that your head was resting on his shoulder.

He smiled down at you in relief. Your classmates took note of his treatment and started to whisper about the two of you, but one look from him and the room quieted.

Unfortunately for you, the peace was short lived. There was a loud crackling over the intercom that shook both you and Mana awake.

They sat up and glared at their surroundings in annoyance. You opened your eyes in a flash, desperately hoping it wasn’t your first period teacher.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Diivi isn’t here yet.” Jimin reassured you. “It was just the intercom.”

You nodded in thanks and covered your yawn with the back of your hand.

There was some more crackling and finally, your principal began to speak.

“Good afternoon, students. I apologize for the interruption, but this is urgent. Constance Pierre is to report to the principal’s office immediately. I repeat, Constance Pierre to the principal’s office. Thank you for your attention, and please continue about your day.”

You squinted in confusion.

Constance has never been called to the principal’s office before in her entire life. Even when she was causing trouble for you and other students, the teachers paid no mind and others were too afraid to report her. What could have happened?

The sound of feet pounding against the floor got closer and closer until you could hear it outside your classroom door. A blonde blur passed the room, disappearing as fast as it had come.

“Pierre...why does that name sound familiar?” You murmured to yourself.

“It’s the name of the freshman that went missing.” Mana said as they stretched. “Chance Pierre, I think.”

Your eyes widened in understanding.

“He was-is Constance’s little brother.” They corrected their statement.

Jimin glanced at your shocked expression and suppressed a dry laugh.

Quite frankly, he could care less about the Pierre family. Constance has been nothing but a nuisance to him and his brother.

He’d been willing to overlook the rumors of how annoyingly outstanding and clever the freshman was because he knew his little brother would always be better.

But after the blonde went so far as to start pestering you, he used the information he’d gathered against Chance in its opportune moment. And he had no regrets.

You snuck a peek at Jimin and saw a familiar, cold decisiveness plastered on his face. It was the only expression you’d been seeing from him for a while now. Any time someone brought up the missing student, Jimin would go frostily silent.

It reminded you of the difference between the two of you, just like his reaction--or lack thereof--the morning of Chance’s disappearance had.

You figured he was just uncomfortable talking about the situation and was carefully avoiding it, just as he had with you and Mana that first day you spent lunch together.

At least it wasn’t Mom or Mana, you thought to yourself.

“They must’ve finally found him.” You commented, distracted by your incoming thoughts.

Aemilia’s family is specifically in charge of hunting down anyone who can be perceived as a “threat” to the Kim family. Brooklyn Hayes and Constance Pierre, however, acquired social immunity for themselves and their families as the girls are so close.

Or so you thought.

Constance’s disheveled appearance the morning Chance went missing made much more sense, then. She was worried sick about her little brother, and one of her closest friends didn’t even bother warning her or her family.

You shuddered. Just how many people would Aemilia sacrifice? How far would she go, just for her sick sense of what was right?

You had no intention of finding out.

By lunch time, the rest of the school had heard exactly what happened to poor Chance Pierre.

The fourteen year old boy was deposited in the family’s living room, returned out of the blue just like all of those who came before him.

His mother had stepped out for a short moment to go grocery shopping and returned to find her bloody mess of a son, who she then quickly rushed to the hospital.

He was covered in bruises, had a broken arm and leg, several broken ribs, and permanent blindness in his left eye. All things considered, he is one of the lucky ones.

His family was just grateful that he was returned to them still breathing.

Whatever the message was, the Pierre family had received it loud and clear. And so had the rest of the town.

No one is allowed to leave Ichabod. Not without being stopped by Death herself.

Another school day had come to an end, and you walked out the building with Mana and Jimin at your side.

Seeing how the end of the month was coming up, you and Jimin decided that it would be best if you went over to his house to work on the project again. The beginning of the presentations were not far off and it was about time you completed your research.

It didn’t take long to convince your mother. The both of you found it easier for you to go over to the Kim residence than to ask Jimin if he could come to your home.

You sat on a granite bench outside of the entrance. Mana stood on your left, leaning up against the wall and Jimin sat to your right, perched on the bench.

You were waiting for Driver Bin and Mr. Waye to show up when you heard a familiar voice call out.

“(Y/N)! Jimin hyung!” You watched as Taehyung came running out the school doors, Jungkook trailing calmly behind him.

You waved at the two and gave them a tired smile. Taehyung made himself comfortable on Jimin’s lap as Jungkook stood along the wall near Mana.

“Did you have a good day, (Y/N)?” Taehyung hummed, eyes teeming with concern.

“Yeah, it was fine.” You said, struggling to actually mean that statement.

Mana gave you a knowing look and huffed out a laugh under their breath.

It’s not as though you almost had your things stolen twice in one day.

This morning, Hoseok saw you chasing a junior who was running away with some of your notebooks and folders in hand.

His charming smile dropped and he gave her a grim look. All he had to do was extend his hand and she placed the items in his palm, which he then promptly returned to you.

Then one of your classmates stole your laptop while you were at lunch in an effort to wipe the thing. Had it not been for Namjoon walking into the library and catching them in the act, you surely would have lost all of your information.

Thankfully, he safely retrieved your laptop from your classmate. You made a new password for all of your devices and resolved to never let your bag out of your sight again.

“I’m glad you’re coming over again, though! Maybe we’ll get to watch a movie or play some games together.” He flashed you a boxy grin and you sent him a small smile in return.

“Jungkookie’s got loads of games,” Jimin added, peeking his head out from behind Taehyung. “He’s such a hoarder, he rarely lets us play with him. I’m sure he’d let you, though.”

Jungkook punched Jimin in the shoulder, looking at the ground in embarrassment. “Hyung, what are you saying...”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” You sighed absentmindedly. “I could do with a break from school and homework for like, the next month.”

The youngest brother flushed, peeking up at you through his bangs. “If you wanted to, I’d be happy to play with you.” He mumbled as he smiled.

“Oh, there’s Driver Bin!” Taehyung called, hopping up and pulling you and Jimin to your feet.

You hugged Mana goodbye as the black van pulled up to the curb. Just as you turned to follow Jimin, however, someone knocked their shoulder into yours.

“Oh, sweetie. You should really watch where you’re going.”

Brooklyn stood in your path with her arms crossed. Over her shoulder, you saw Aemilia and Constance standing a short distance away. They looked as though they were about to make their way towards Aemilia’s family’s car.

Of course, she could have just walked around you, but why would she ever let you off easy?

The strawberry blonde wore a satisfied smile and she leaned over to whisper something in the ear of a haggard Constance. Constance merely blinked and nodded in response.

You smiled at the girl in front of you. “Of course. It was all my mistake. I’m so sorry, Brooklyn.”

You stepped closer as though you were going to confront her and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward you before she could step back.

She fought against you but that only made you grip her arm tighter. You could feel your nails start to dig into her skin.

“I’m sorry that you’re nothing more than a means to an end.” You murmured in her ear.

The brunette stilled.

“I’m sorry Aemilia couldn’t care less about you or your family.” You continued, speaking in a low voice. “I’m sorry that your so called friend sees you as mere disposable goods, or should I say...a useful little puppet?”

You released your grip on her arm, bringing your hand up to her shoulder instead and giving it a few consoling pats. “Didn’t your little sister just get the lead role in the school play? I would hate for you to be the next Constance...”

You looked toward the blonde just to emphasize your point and Brooklyn’s eyes followed your gaze.

Constance was staring, unseeing, at the ground, nervously clinging to Aemilia like a lifeline. She was strangely quiet and obedient...like a dog in fear of disobeying its master.

Brooklyn looked back and forth between you, Aemilia, and Constance in utter shock. You sent her one more sympathetic look before moving around her to follow the Kims into their car.

The remaining students whispered, wondering about what you said and in the corner of your eye, you saw Mana tilt their head inquisitively. You knew they had questions, questions you would have to answer later.

You bowed in greeting to Mr. Bin and entered the car behind Jimin like last time, Namjoon going in after you.

Mr. Bin closed the door and walked around to the other side of the vehicle in preparation to leave.

“I’ve never seen Brooklyn look so shocked,” Taehyung said from the backseat. He put his hands on the headrest behind you and poked his head around it. “What did you tell her?”

You shrugged. “Something that could hopefully put her life in a different perspective.”

“I don’t know how you deal with those girls, (Y/N).” Jimin said. “Aren’t you tired of the tricks Aemilia’s playing?”

“Don’t you just want to get rid of them, once and for all?” Taehyung asked, tone darkening.

You shrugged. “For whatever reason, she’s currently obsessed with me-”

The reason being all of you-

“-and of course I want her to stop, but I would never give her the satisfaction of letting her think she won. She’s petty, and a bully.”

You texted your mother an update on your location and locked your phone, looking up at your classmates. “She just needs a reality check. I’d be happy to give it to her every now and then.”

Part of you felt like trying to care for Brooklyn was pointless, especially after the way she treated you. The other part of you felt you were killing two birds with one stone--you were opening her eyes and isolating Aemilia in one go.

While Namjoon and Hoseok nodded in understanding, the rest of the boys couldn’t help but worry.

They all followed Namjoon’s advice religiously in fear of scaring you away. But what if your independence only made it harder for them to be able to be there for you? What if you never came to them on your own for assistance?

...They would simply have to make it so that you had no other choice, would they not?

But the circumstances were not yet that dire, so for now, you had nothing to fear.

——————————————————————

The ride into the woods was pleasantly silent, and this time you made sure you didn’t fall asleep.

All too soon, Mr. Bin drove the van past the wrought-iron gate and up the impressive driveway. You weren’t as nervous as you were your first time visiting their residence, but you still had your guard up.

The boys bound up the wooden steps and opened the front door, piling into their home. You entered last, quietly closing the door behind you.

As you were taking off your shoes, you spied a pair of nude slides next to all of the black ones.

Jungkook noticed you looking at them and smiled. “Mother prepared them for you. She saw you wearing hyung’s pair the last time you came over and ordered them after you left with your mom.”

“That’s so kind of her,” you said, slightly in awe. “I’ll be sure to express my thanks.”

You never thought you’d reach the day where Mrs. Kim would welcome you so readily into her home, but here you stood corrected.

“(Y/N), let’s go!” Jimin called to you from the stairway.

“Coming!” You lay your shoes at the door, slid your feet into the slippers, and went to catch up with him, climbing upstairs.

The library had hardly changed since you were gone. The shelves were just as dusty and dilapidated as before, and the couch was just as comfortable.

You maintained a safe distance away from Jimin this time as well so he wouldn’t get the opportunity to pull any tricks.

You spent the majority of the afternoon on writing the paper together, as you both had agreed. A few hours later, you finished and decided to get a head start on the presentation.

“‘The strength of a Nephilim depends on which angelic order their parent hails from,’” You read out to Jimin as he added to your shared document from his laptop.

“‘The sheer majority, however, were parented by those in the third sphere. This was the lowest order consisting of the angels most concerned with the affairs of humans: Principalities, Archangels, and Angels.’”

“Got it.” He claimed, typing out a couple more sentences. “I think we have enough for the background information, but Mrs. Hargrove also wants us to discuss the religions they come from, their abilities and their weaknesses.”

You hummed. “Angels are mentioned in a multitude of religions, but Nephilim are really only mentioned in the Hebrew Bible, according to sources.”

“So that question shouldn’t be so difficult to answer,” He smiled, marking it.

“Nephilim are really strong,” you said from behind the book cover, fascinated by the information it held. “They appear as ordinary humans on the outside but possess celestial powers bestowed upon them by their angelic parent. They’re faster and stronger than ordinary humans, and are excellent at reading people.”

Jimin took the book from you and glanced further down in the book to see if he could find more specific powers for your project.

“Oh, I found something here.”

You opened your laptop and prepared to type as he read.

“It says Nephilim possess super strength, longevity, the power of flight, healing abilities, teleportation, telepathy, angelic wrath, illusions, the ability to drain someone’s life force, and telekinesis.” He raised his eyebrow in awe.

You chuckled as your hands raced to keep up with his words. “Illusions, the ability to drain someone’s life force, and what?”

“Telekinesis, the ability to move things with your mind.” He said.

“I could use that all the time--like, the other day, I was waiting in front of the student council room to return the uniform I borrowed.”

You recounted the story for Jimin as he peeked up at you. You were too engrossed in typing, however, to notice his gaze. “I could have sworn the door was locked, but then Namjoon appeared and it unlocked without him pulling out a key or anything. He just flicked his wrist and open sesame.”

Jimin unabashedly stared at you, a small smile on his face. You always noticed the littlest things about them and it made his heart pound for you a little harder.

“Namjoon hyung always comes in at the coolest moments,” he replied, looking down at what you’d managed to gather so far. “So, we have the powers and where they come from. I think we found a section on their weaknesses the other day.”

“Yeah, it sounds like their main weakness is original sin, or the innate tendency to sin, all humans receive once they’re born.” You thought back to the section you and Jimin read before. “Because they’re part human and part angel, they are constantly at war with themselves and the human side typically wins.”

“Do you think that’s a bad thing?” Jimin asked.

You closed your laptop. “...What do you mean?”

Jimin shifted, tucking his legs underneath him. “I mean, they’re celestial beings. They have cosmic powers at their disposal, access to the heavens, and everything they could have wanted. But they have a choice to throw it away, to sin, for...whatever the reason may be.” He muttered, glancing aside at the carpet. “If they gave it up, do you think they would have made the right decision?”

You paused for a moment, eyeing the shadows nearby branches cast on the library windows. “It think it depends on the person and what they’re sinning for. Whether they were doing it for their own self interest, or to protect a loved one-”

“What if they were doing it because they loved someone?” Jimin interrupted, eyes widened in curiosity.

Your eyes left the window as you turned to face him. “I would admire their dedication. And it’s not as though they lose their abilities when they fall from grace. I only wish that person would be worth it, and that they’re happy.”

You smiled wistfully. “An angel losing their wings to love someone for the rest of their life. What a sad, beautiful thing. ’Tis the plight of being human, I suppose. They’re really not that different from us--besides the celestial gifts, of course.”

Jimin grinned and hummed in agreement.

As always, only you could understand them perfectly.

You stood up from the couch and brushed off the back of your skirt. “Uh, Jimin, could you please tell me where the bathroom is?”

He smiled. “Yeah! You just make a left at the corner, then a right, then another right, and there should be a guest room with a bathroom in it.”

You zoned into and out of your thoughts momentarily and blinked, smiling and nodding at him. “Thanks.”

——————————————————————

Perhaps Jimin told you the directions incorrectly, or you made a left when you should have made a right, but there was no doubt about it. You were lost. There was no bathroom where he stated there was, and you’d been wandering around the third floor for several minutes now with no clue as to where it was.

“Damn this house.” You muttered under your breath. “Only seven people live here, why is it so big?”

You finally came upon what looked like a guest room, one that hopefully had a bathroom inside, when you heard two voices speaking from the behind the partially open door.

“Seriously. You need to be more careful with these sorts of things.” The first voice said, deep and mature.

You stopped in your tracks immediately.

“It’s not like I wanted this to happen.” the second one spoke. Their voice was much lower and raspier than the first.

“Of course you didn’t. That’s why you should pay more attention when doing your work.” The first voice nagged and you heard someone hiss.

“Ah, it’s fine. It was worth it. Still, thanks for patching me up, hyung.”

You were stuck near the crack in the door, too afraid to move in fear of being heard.

“Whatever. You’re too reckless. Maybe this’ll teach you a lesson.”

“Oh, come on. How was I supposed to know that the kid would make such a-”

“Stop talking.” The first voice stated, sounding much lower than it had before.

Your eyes shook at the sudden silence and you whipped around to look at the hallway, quickly searching for a place to hide.

About two steps behind you, there was a five foot long indent in the wall, courtesy of the prominent display of a large painting.

You risked it and threw yourself backward, stepping as quietly onto the wood as you could before throwing your back up against the indent, facing away from the room.

And not a moment too soon, as you heard the door fly open the second you were hidden from view. You sunk to the floor in a crouch.

“What’s wrong, hyung?” You could hear the younger’s voice sound from the room much clearer now.

You sucked yourself as tightly into the corner as you could.

There was no response from the older and you strained your ears for a sign, a hint, anything.

Breathing felt too loud, swallowing felt too loud, the brush of your clothes against your neck as you turned your head felt too loud. Everything was deafening.

Please don’t find me, please don’t find me, please don’t find me-

There was the slow, soft padding of feet on the wooden floor. You trembled as it got closer and closer to where you sat.

In the corner of your eye, you could see a socked foot, inches away from where you hid.

“Jin hyung!”

Your savior, none other than Jimin, appeared at the end of the hallway, yelling in excitement.

You know he saw you, of course he saw you. It was impossible not to coming from his direction. You cast your eyes down, praying he wouldn’t reveal your presence.

He grinned as he ran towards the man.

“You came back early!” The younger boy tackled him in a hug, wrapping his legs around him.

The force drove the man back several steps and he grunted, his foot disappearing from your sight. “Jimin, you’re getting a bit too old for this, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but I know you’ll always carry me, hyung.” You heard him giggle.

“What are you doing up here?” The other voice asked, joining the other two in the hallway. You remained where you sat, not moving an inch.

“Yoongi hyung! You came back too!”

He scoffed. “Of course I did.”

“Answer his question first, Jimin ah.” You heard the elder comment in a much warmer voice than the threatening tone you heard behind the door.

“I was in the library working on a project with my classmate. She had to use the bathroom but she never came back, so I came looking for her.”

You blinked rapidly, staring at the wooden floor in front of you.

There was a pause.

“Have either of you seen her?” Jimin asked.

“...No, we haven’t.” The deep and mature voice, which you now matched to the eldest brother, replied.

“I’ll just keep looking, then. But you should head downstairs. Father will be home soon, he’ll be pleased to know you’re here!”

Due to the series of complaints you then heard, it sounded as though Jimin took both of his brothers by the wrist and led them to the stairway down the other side of the hallway.

You waited in that spot for several moments, until you couldn’t hear anything but the wind blowing up against the walls. Once you ensured that they were gone, you ran back down the hallway you came, bladder be damned.

Of course. How could you have possibly forgotten Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s two eldest children?

Kim Yoongi and Kim Seokjin.

Had you not moved when you did, and had Jimin not interfered when he had, you might have...no, you surely would have lost your life in that instant.

——————————————————————

You made it back to the library, quickly and quietly opening the door before rushing in.

Jimin still hadn’t returned, so no one was there to see you fly over to the couch and plop down to sit. You tried to catch your breath to slow the pounding of your heart.

Kim Yoongi and Kim Seokjin. You were almost caught eavesdropping on their conversation.

You had never wanted to purge your memory more than in that exact moment.

What if they suspect I heard everything? What if they have the Augustuses’ people capture me for it? It couldn’t have been that important--it sounded like they were just patching up wounds. Maybe one of them got into a fight? Surely this wouldn’t be enough to warrant such violence. Even they have limits, yes? Then again, when did they ever need a reason to-

The library doors flew open and you flinched, looking up at them only to sigh in relief.

“(Y/N), there you are! Did you find the bathroom alright?”

Jimin’s eyes twinkled playfully as he smiled at you. You restrained yourself from cursing at or hitting him in anger and relief, choosing instead to let out a deep sigh.

“Yeah,” you stated quietly. “It was fine.”

At that moment you received a text from your mother stating that she was downstairs.

"My mom says she’s here. I guess it’s time for me to go.” You stated, beginning to pack your laptop and notebooks away.

“Sure! I’ll come downstairs with you.” He smiled and turned away from you to return The Word of the Lost to its proper shelf.

“Thanks,” you whispered, then zipped your bag up.

Jimin was already gliding away toward the back of the library, the leather bound book in hand, but he still managed to hear you. He didn’t respond, but he smirked triumphantly.

You accepted his silence as a “You’re welcome” and took the moment to fix your composure. When you were both ready, he led the way downstairs.

“My eldest sons have finally returned home!” You heard Kim Moonsik cheer from the living room.

His tone, usually melancholic and oily, was much lighter today. You surmised that even his mood could be improved by the sight of his family.

He sat on one of the two settees while his two oldest sons perched on the long, gray couch in front of him.

They both had black hair and dark eyes, like their brothers and parents. One was casually dressed in a large black hoodie and black sweatpants, while the other looked comfortable in a neutral toned sweater and slacks.

The one sitting on the left rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand why you had hyung drag me here a week earlier than necessary, Father. It isn’t that big of a deal.”

Kim Yoongi was notorious for his rebellious attitude. You had heard that since his days at Ichabod Academy, he never listened to authority figures--his classmates were afraid of him and his teachers let him do as he please. The only time he would adhere to rules and tradition was at the required monthly meetings, for obvious reasons.

“On the contrary,” The older man chuckled. “Every time you come home is cause for occasion, my prodigal son.”

“Have some sympathy for me here.” The eldest drawled with his arms crossed. “I get a headache every time I’m forced to drag you home with me.”

Kim Seokjin, on the other hand, was an entertainer. He would lower people’s defenses with a friendly expression and a joke. The citizens of Ichabod found him much more agreeable and respectable as Mayor Kim’s eldest son. They thought him harmless. They fawned over him and Namjoon, praising the mayor for how well he’d raised them in terms of respect and diplomacy.

They were fools. For even now, you could see it as he lounged back relaxedly in his seat: Kim Seokjin may be considered kind and polite, but he was by no means harmless.

“Do you want me to bring you some medicine?” Jimin piped up from beside you on the stairs, drawing the three’s attention.

You could feel the college students’ gaze burning into the side of your face.

You kept your facial expression neutral and descended the stairs behind Jimin, who skipped down the rest of them.

“Who’s this?” You heard Yoongi question.

“This is my classmate, (Y/N). She’s the person I was looking for earlier,” Jimin said, seating himself in between his older brothers.

You bowed toward them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Seokjin smiled and reached out his hand. You extended yours, expecting a handshake.

He held it, turned it over, and pressed his lips to the back of it. “The pleasure is all ours.”

Yoongi smirked as you took your hand back, fighting a blush. “How lovely it is to make your acquaintance.”

“Thank you, you too. It’s nice to see you again as well, Mr. Kim.” You addressed the older man.

“You also, (Y/N) dear. I’m simply ecstatic you took up our invitation.” Mayor Kim said, the usual, passionate fire in his eyes blazing.

You fought back a shudder.

“You know the entire town needs to be present, Yoongi ah.” Mr. Kim continued the conversation from before. “You’re no exception.”

“I never said I was,” the second oldest retorted. “I just prefer to spend less of my break here.”

“How’s everything at school, Jiminie?” Seokjin asked as Jimin wrapped his arms around his midsection, skillfully redirecting the subject matter.

“Strange, as usual.” He mumbled, hesitantly looking up at you.

“I heard the police finally found the Pierre boy,” Mr. Kim added, and you suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable in the presence of this conversation.

Where’s my mother? Weren’t we supposed to be leaving?

“Yes, we heard about it at lunch.” Jimin said. His tone when speaking to his father wasn’t as clipped or standoffish as it was when he was speaking to his mother; rather, it was more lackadaisical. “Right, (Y/N)?”

All four heads spun to you, still standing in the middle of the living room.

“Why are you standing there looking so stiff?” Seokjin sent you a sinister smile. “Come join us.”

This was the last place you wanted to be, but you had no choice in the matter. You smiled awkwardly and shuffled to the empty settee.

Before you could sit down, however, Jimin jumped up and pulled you to the couch, seating you in his old spot between his brothers. He then claimed the spot on the other side of Seokjin.

You stiffened and relaxed in a second, praying to everything that you didn’t look as uncomfortable as you felt.

The atmosphere was stifling. You couldn’t breathe.

“It’s a shame what happened to him, truly.” Mr. Kim continued, humming in sympathy. “I sincerely hope something like that doesn’t have to happen again.”

How dare he sit here and act as though he had nothing to do with it? What happened to Chance Pierre was his fault! You unconsciously balled your fist in your lap.

“I’m sure everyone will take this lesson to heart, Father.” Seokjin consoled him. “May they never underestimate the power of Wylynne’s grace again.”

“She is holy and forgiving, but some actions need to be punished, yes.” Yoongi added from your right with a cruel smirk. “Praise Wylynne.”

“Praise Wylynne.” Jimin nodded, eyes twinkling with amusement.

It suddenly occurred to you that you were the only one left who had not spoken. When you raised your eyes to meet with the others’, indeed, they were waiting for your response.

“...Praise Wylynne.” You smiled. False religion or not, there was no way you would be testing your luck in front of the divine priest and his sons.

Mr. Kim nodded in approval, then broke out into a laugh. “Wise, hardworking, and devoted; like mother, like daughter. Wylynne surely smiles upon the women of the (L/N) family.”

You laughed awkwardly. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Will your mother be arriving to get you soon?” Mr. Kim asked you.

“It was to my knowledge that she was already here-”

“(Y/N)!”

Your head spun toward the sound of your mother’s voice and found her standing in the entryway next to Kim Eunbyul. She wore navy blue scrubs today and her hair was pulled back into a bun with a few loose strands in the front.

You had thought right. The two were a vision next to each other.

Mrs. Kim walked over, bringing your mother with her. “I apologize for the wait--(M/N) and I were having the most delightful conversation. (Y/N) my dear, how are you?”

She sat next to her husband on one settee and your mother took a seat on the other, empty one.

This was your second time seeing Mrs. Kim, yet you still could not get over her beauty. She wore another silk housedress, a muslin scarf draped behind her back and over her inner arms.

Her elegance was neither ostentatious nor arrogant. She demanded respect but gave it in return.

She had what Aemilia desperately sought after but could never possess.

You nodded with a smile, bowing slightly. “Good evening, Mrs. Kim. I’m fine, thanks for worrying. And thank you so much for the sandals, I really appreciate you going out of your way for me.”

The former actress waved her hand lightly as she laughed. “It was no trouble at all!”

She took your hands in hers and looked down at her feet. “Besides, we match!” Following her gaze, your eyes widened. Indeed, you both had the same style and brand of slippers on.

“Thank you so much for the welcoming her so warmly, Mrs. Kim.” Your mother smiled.

“Of course.” She assured. “Think nothing of it. I already think of you both as family.”

Your heart warmed a bit and you smiled in response to her words, for you already greatly admired Mrs. Kim. To think that she had taken a liking to both you and your mother...

It was then that the rest of the brothers trekked downstairs in curiosity, then heartily grinned once they realized their oldest brothers had arrived.

“How about we let the kids step aside so us adults can talk properly, hmm?” Mrs. Kim suggested, taking her husband’s hand.

Mr. Kim grinned and squeezed her hand in response. “A wonderful idea, love.”

The boys then quickly pulled you away from the main couches, moving your discussion toward the glass windows.

You looked back at your mom a couple of times while the brothers greeted each other before focusing on the conversation at hand.

The eight of you stood in a circle near the windows, and you were currently stuck between Jungkook and Seokjin.

“The other day, (Y/N) said she really liked your interior designing, Jin hyung.” Hoseok piped up. “She said she thought the living room was lovely.”

“Did she? She must have impeccable taste.” He playfully winked at you.

You smiled weakly. “Thank you. I really admire what you’ve done with the space.”

Yoongi, across from you, leaned against the glass. “How is everything at the academy these days?” He asked.

You hesitated to answer then directed your gaze to the floor thinking the question was not meant for you. When you didn’t hear any of the other boys speak, you looked up and found six sets of eyes on you.

Their gazes were so focused and intense, as if you would break or disappear the moment they looked away. You shifted your eyes.

“It’s not the easiest, but isn’t that what high school is like for everyone?” You grimace-smiled.

“(Y/N)’s being bullied.” Taehyung revealed, draping himself over Jimin’s shoulder. “Aemilia Augustus and her lackeys won’t leave her alone.”

This little-

You whipped your head around to see if your mother had heard anything. Thankfully, Taehyung’s voice was lowered at the time. She seemed engrossed in her discussion with Mrs. Kim.

“The Augustus princess?” Yoongi asked, interrupting your thoughts.

“She’s what?” Jin started in surprise, his polite smile turning into a displeased frown. He glanced at Namjoon. The student council president simply nodded in response.

“She has the other kids pester or steal from (Y/N).” Hoseok added, glaring out the window. “The students can hardly stop talking about it.”

Jungkook gently tugged on your shirt sleeve to get your attention. “If she’ s bothering you--”

“It’s alright.” You assured them before they could really give Aemilia and her people a reason to go after you. “I’m working it out.”

“And how well is that going?” Namjoon snorted, giving you a knowing look.

You grimaced, locking and unlocking your phone. “...I’m working it out.” You repeated, suddenly fascinated by the wooden floor.

“If she ever gives you a hard time, you let me know.” Yoongi said, holding up his fists. One hand was wrapped in bandages and the other hand was bare, knuckles covered in torn skin and still-healing scabs. “I don’t get these from just lying around, if you catch my drift.”

You gaped at his hands and at the offer. Kim Yoongi? Offering to beat someone up for you? Where had his famous apathetic attitude gone?

“Violence is never the answer, Yoongi ah.” Seokjin replied before you could. He gently took your phone from you while it was unlocked and swiped around until he found your contacts. “If you ever need help, just give us a call. Don’t be afraid to reach out. We’ll always be there.”

You opened and closed your mouth in distress.

Seokjin pointedly ignored the glare Namjoon was sending his way.

He was jealous of his younger brothers, who got to see and speak with you every day. Earlier, he’d been in the middle of healing and wrapping Yoongi’s injury when he saw your shadow outside the door.

He’d barely been able to hold himself back from ripping you out your hiding spot and pulling you into his arms. But then all of their progress would have been for naught.

So he allowed Jimin to drag him away.

But not anymore.

He understood that you needed your time and space but, really, their angel shouldn’t be so stubborn around them.

He held the device out to you and you took it back, observing the six newest additions to your contacts list. He’d taken the time to add not just his number, but the rest of the brothers’ numbers as well.

“Thank you,” You confided with a rare, genuine, and small smile, “really. But I can handle it myself.”

On the outside, some of them nodded while the others frowned at the floor.

On the inside, however, they collectively sighed inside their head, tired of your age old response.

They just wanted you to be able to lean on them, to see them as another option that was always available to you, and only you.

How long was it going to take for you to trust them? How far would they have to go to capture the object of their desire?

Whatever the obstacle, they would surely overcome it.

Your mother called your name once more and you shouldered your bag, replacing the nude slippers with your school shoes.

“I hope you have a pleasant night,” You said to the brothers, fumbling with your shoes. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow!” Jimin waved you off with a smile and his brothers and parents chorused farewells behind him.

You both bowed once more to the Kim family and descended the stairs, making as hasty but collected an exit as possible.

“I swear, (Y/N), I lose years off my life every time I come to this house,” your mother murmured once you both sat in the car.

“You know what, Mom? So do I.” You exhaled, slumping down in the front seat. “Drive slowly, won’t you? I might be the one throwing up once we reach the edge of the woods.”

Your mother barked out a laugh and nodded in thanks to Mr. Bin as he opened the gate.

As you drove away from the Kim family home, you opened your messages and texted Mana, updating them on how you’d nearly lost your life this time.

That night, you ate dinner, cleaned up, finished other assignments, and had an hours long conversation with Mana about Brooklyn and your latest visit to the Kim residence.

The way their eyes bugged out of their head when you told them about how you’d nearly gotten caught made you laugh. Of course, it hadn’t been funny in the moment. Even thinking about it now made you slightly nauseous.

But you went to sleep that night all the same, dreaming once again of haunting, magnificent black wings.

——————————————————————

Once the front door of the Kim household closed, Jimin’s cheerful face dropped into a scowl.

And he was not the only one upset. All seven of them glowered around the room in the aftermath of (Y/N)’s departure.

Kim Eunbyul and Kim Moonsik sat deathly still on the couch, unprepared for whatever was coming.

When someone is explosive with anger, they are destructive. One might break things, they may say harmful words, but for the most part, one takes their anger out in that single moment.

The seven men behind them were different.

When they were angry, they plotted. The harder it was for them to get what they wanted, the harder they fought. They made sure there would be nothing that could possibly be in their way.

“We told you to be patient, hyung.” Namjoon broke the angry silence. “Don’t ruin all of our plans with your ineptitude.”

“Isn’t that a little harsh?” Seokjin scoffed. “I put your number in her phone, too. Try being a little grateful.”

“Don’t disrespect your elders, Namjoon.” Hoseok chided, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We told you to put your dog on her leash.”

“You weren’t complaining when Aemilia’s antics gave you opportunities to help (Y/N),” Namjoon sneered. “I loathe her very existence as well, don’t misunderstand me.”

“You should hear the rumors going around at school, Namjoon hyung.” Jungkook frowned. “People are placing bets on how soon Aemilia’s going to destroy her.”

“I know you’re the brains of this operation but if (Y/N) gets hurt, this is not going to end prettily.” Yoongi stated solemnly.

“I won’t let it get to that point.” Namjoon assured.

“Get it together. And keep that girl in line.” Seokjin nodded.

There was a significant reason Eunbyul was so receptive of the (h/c) haired girl and her mother.

Despite the fact that she really did enjoy your company and was happy to welcome you into their home, she knew what would await her if she ever dared to mistreat you.

You precious thing. You precious, hardheaded, stubborn thing. Why did you not give in to what they wanted? Could you truly not see how much they how much they longed to protect possess be with you?

Perhaps you’ve already started picking up on it, and this was why you wanted to distance yourself from them before it was too late.

You beautiful, foolish thing. It was already far too late.

Eunbyul quivered, squeezing her husband’s hand. Moonsik wore a stony expression on his face, but he squeezed his wife’s hand back with surprising strength.

When she looked up from her lap, she gasped, for Jungkook was squatting directly in front of her. She felt as though his dark gaze was piercing her soul.

The probability of that very thing happening in this instant was high.

She exhaled and carefully avoided his gaze.

“Mother, Father,” he hummed, “is everything alright? You’re shaking like leaves in the wind.”

“Oh dear.” Taehyung replied, resting his arms on the back of the settee behind them. He tilted his head and frowned down at the two as if they were insects, scurrying around in an attempt to escape their deaths. “That doesn’t sound very good.”

“I’m sure it was just a result of them working so hard.” Seokjin smiled at Moonsik. “I must say, I was impressed.” The elder simply nodded and avoided his gaze.

Namjoon strolled over to Eunbyul’s side of the settee and gently pat the woman on her back. “Your performance today was especially moving, Mother.”

“At least she wasn’t trembling in front of (Y/N) like she did last time,” Jimin kissed his teeth. “Useless woman.”

Hoseok bent over in laughter, the outburst shortening into a light giggle as he joined them by the couches.

“They work diligently, why not praise them once in a while?” He suggested, suppressing another laugh.

“Like I’ll ever.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “I really hope you know what you’re talking about, Namjoon hyung. I’m going to bed before I feel the need to hit something--or someone.” Jimin glared and bounded back up the stairs.

“It’s alright. We’re fine.” Eunbyul forced out. “Thank you.”

“Yes, you should be. If you weren’t, it would imply you did something wrong.” Yoongi smiled.

“And if you did something wrong,” Jin continued, “...well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

She stiffly nodded.

“Of course not.” Taehyung grinned and pat her head condescendingly.

“Of course.” Moonshik repeated, willing his hands to stop trembling.

He had never expected this to happen. He never thought he would be living the life that he did.

He had called for power, and he had surely received it, but not in the way he thought he would.

Was the insurmountable power worth the treatment he received in his own home?

Yes. And if he had to repeat it, he would have made the exact same decision. It would surely be worth it. That was what he told himself day in and day out, the prayer he spoke to his god in an attempt to convince himself of the lie.

It would surely be worth it.

“We’re trusting you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim.”

——————————————————————

The Augustus residence was a fairly old building, a beautiful family manor transformed into a modern, affluent home. It stood in the center of the city, as their family used to be the epicenter of society.

Aemilia found both her home and its location extremely fitting.

As unfortunate as it would be that she would have to move from this stately home to one in the middle-of-nowhere woods, she was willing to deal with it. She would follow her future husband anywhere, everywhere, if need be.

Usually, the esteemed Augustus home was silent.

“How could you?” Brooklyn shouted in anger.

But today, those grand old walls whispered in the wind through quite the ruckus.

“The people that work for your family dragged Constance’s little brother out of his home in the middle of the day! They tortured him for two weeks! You knew where he was the whole time, and you didn’t say a thing!” Brooklyn gestured toward their friend. “She came to you for help, and you slammed the door in her face!”

The blonde had stopped talking long ago. She curled herself into a ball and tucked her head into her chest, looking well on the verge of a panic attack.

The three girls had arrived at Aemilia’s house earlier, prepared to do the usual: finish some homework, study, and binge watch some shows.

But (Y/N) (L/N)’s words had been ringing inside of Brooklyn’s head all afternoon.

A means to an end.

Disposable goods.

A useful little puppet.

She couldn’t take thinking it anymore, so she finally voiced the dreaded question. Brooklyn asked Aemilia what she and Constance meant to her.

The strawberry blonde tilted her head, staying quiet for several minutes. She then grinned and replied,“My ladies in waiting?”

For Wylynne’s sake. She could have at least been less direct than to compare them to literal servants.

Brooklyn erupted at Aemilia, asking her if that’s what she thought years of friendship had amounted to, thus leading them to their current argument.

For whatever reason, it had never occurred to the brunette that Aemilia may be using her. She thought she had broken the barriers the callous girl held for her long ago, but after Constance showed up at Brooklyn’s house in tears, combined with Aemilia’s response to Chance’s disappearance...

Perhaps it was time she seriously reevaluated their “friendship”.

“Don’t you think you could have reassured her that he was alive? Even police officers tell family members when people have been arrested.” Brooklyn glared at the other girl.

“Get real, Brooklyn. This isn’t a stupid police station. This is Ichabod. It’s because we live in Ichabod that Chance broke the law, and received his due punishment.” Aemilia justified coldly.

“A fourteen year old boy in laying in his bed, covered in bruises and permanently blind in one eye. But I need to get real because this is Ichabod, and that somehow makes it okay?” Brooklyn raised her volume, disturbed by how convicted Aemilia was in her reasoning. “How could you possibly think that makes it okay?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Aemilia sneered, “I wasn’t aware that I needed your opinion or approval for my thoughts and actions.”

“That’s exactly the problem! This is about you playing us, using us through your actions! I honestly thought we meant more than that to you!” She snarled in response.

“I don’t see a problem with it,” Aemilia shrugged. “You and Constance used me for popularity and safety, and now you come crying to me, claiming that I can’t use you in return?” She barked out a laugh. “That hardly seems fair. How ungrateful.”

The brunette couldn’t deny the benefits that came along with being close to the strawberry blonde, but for her to twist their entire history and friendship into one of utility? She was beside herself with anger.

“Used you? You think we used you? For what?” She roared. “Your money? Your status? Don’t you think we have those exact same things?”

Brooklyn Hayes and Constance Pierre were not one’s normal, run of the mill best friends. In fact, they were in extremely similar situations to Aemilia, for their families were also members of the old city elite.

The Hayes and Pierres had lived in Ichabod for nearly as long as the Augustuses. They may not have had the same amount of prestige that Aemilia lay claim to, but they certainly were not far off.

“You grew up with us and thought we were nothing more than what? Walking labels that strengthened your social status? People you could use to do your bidding?” Brooklyn deadpanned. “We were nothing more than pawns in your game, weren’t we?”

“We didn’t befriend you because of your title or your family, Aemilia. We befriended you because we admired you and your personality. We weren’t the ones that twisted your perception of us into toys, or puppets, or ladies in waiting.” She gave a mirthless smile. “That was all you.”

Aemilia paused, reminiscing on her younger days. In every interaction she ever experienced, she was treated like royalty. At some point, she simply assumed it was natural for everyone to bend to her every whim.

Everyone...except for those two.

They had approached her for some childish reason like playing dolls or tag or other, but it was all genuine.

“I honestly can’t believe you.” Brooklyn shook her head at her silence and stormed around the room, collecting her and Constance’s materials and shoving them into their respective bags.

“All these years. All these years, and I was that clueless, that hopeful.” Brooklyn muttered as she gave her a cruel smile. “I can’t believe (Y/N) (L/N) knew you better than I did.”

Aemilia’s face flushed bright red.

“Your ladies in waiting are going to relieve themselves of their position now.” Brooklyn carefully dragged the non responsive blonde to her feet, holding both of their bags and contacting her personal driver. She curled her lip. “Please feel free to march your way to the throne by yourself, your highness.”

The door slammed shut behind them, and for a moment, the residence was silent once more.

Then, with an anguished cry, Aemilia picked up whatever textbooks were nearby and vaulted them at her walls.

First, her future husband. Next, her friends. What would that (h/c) haired bitch steal next? Her life?

“No. No. I won’t let it get that far. I would never let you get away with it!” She screamed, hurling another book.

Her bedroom door swung open and her father ducked the incoming textbook. “Aemilia! What on earth is going on? Brooklyn and Constance just left looking extremely upset, did you three have an argument?”

She dropped the rest of the textbooks, raced to her father and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Daddy, I need you to call up the special squadron.”

Aloysius Augustus held his daughter’s hands and warily pried them off of him. “Whatever for?”

Aemilia flashed him a maniacal grin. “Namjoon just texted me. He says his father believes he’s found in another soul in dire need of discipline.”

——————————————————————

Ever since engaging in this battle of wills with Aemilia, you tell yourself that there isn’t anything that could surprise you anymore.

Yet the actions of your classmates the next morning were strange. Stranger than you could possibly anticipate.

You entered the classroom and found a group of girls standing in a huddle around a desk, whispering to one another.

The room was strangely empty. Neither Mana nor Jimin had arrived yet, nor had some of your other classmates known for coming to school relatively early.

The girls noticed your entrance and quieted immediately. You found this suspicious, so you decided you wanted nothing to do with them. You shifted your gaze away from them and kept on walking to your seat.

That is, until you heard one of them scoff loudly in your direction.

“I mean, just look at her. She walks around the school as if she’s better than us, just because Ms. Diivi had Jimin sit next to her.”

You froze but their tittering only got louder.

The girl that scoffed before, a classmate of yours named Seph, left the group and stood in front of you with crossed arms.

“You’re not anything special, (Y/N). You shouldn’t mistake yourself.”

The others seemed to agree with her as, soon enough, they left the desk one by one to surround you.

“It’s really pathetic how you practically beg for Jimin’s attention.”

“The other day, when you made him give you his sweater? It was really embarrassing.”

“Yeah, I could hardly stand to watch.”

They imitated your shivering as they laughed, making it look as though you were having a seizure.

“You used to be tolerable at the least, but Jimin transferred to our class and you finally decided to take the opportunity to climb the ranks, huh?” Another sneered.

You could hardly move. You were stuck in place, the words swimming around in your head.

Externally, you stared down at the ground in confusion, but internally, you were shocked. You couldn’t believe the accusations the girls were coming up with.

Even after everything this town had been through, the Kim brothers still had some sort of deluded fan club...and now they were coming after you.

“What the hell?” You finally said, lifting your head to look each of them in the eye. “Why would I go begging for his attention?”

“Don’t try to deny it, bitch.” Seph snarled. “You used to keep your head down and mind your business like the rest of us, but now, all of a sudden, you’re relishing in the spotlight.”

“We’ll see just how much Jimin likes you soon enough.” One of her lackeys snickered.

They left you where you stood, turning their attention to the doorway.

You could see Jimin from the glass window in the door, waving goodbye to Taehyung as he headed off to his respective classroom. He reached down to twist the knob and pulled the door open.

Had you blinked, you would have missed the entire thing.

Seph pulled a bucket out from under the desk they were all crowded around and threw its contents all over Jimin.

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth in shock as he was doused in water from head to toe. His uniform was soaked and his hair lost its floofy nature, flattening down over his eyes.

One of the girls ripped the bucket away from her and shoved it into your hands. They moved back in tandem, shocked gasps hiding their deeds as Jimin wiped water out of his eyes, which landed on you holding the bucket.

“(Y/N)...?”

You were just as shocked as he was, mouth agape. The evidence was completely against you.

He looked up at you with teary eyes. He looked hurt, so angry, you figured there was no way you were going to get out of this.

“I didn’t do it, why would I?” You protested.

“Jimin, are you alright?” The ringleader picked back up, skillfully concealing a triumphant smirk with an open look of concern. “(Y/N), how could you do such an awful thing? Especially after he’s been nothing but kind to you...”

Wow, does she get lessons from Mrs. Kim or something?

You dropped the bucket in surprise. “No! Jimin, it wasn’t me, I promise, they just grabbed the bucket out of nowhere-”

This is it. My mother is going to have to bury her daughter young. I failed to provide for her, or thank her for everything she’s done for me. Your thoughts couldn’t stop racing.

“Even for a prank, that’s a bit much, isn’t it?” They continued behind you.

“She’s been acting all this time. I’m not surprised.”

“He treated her so well and it all just blew up in his face.”

“That’s just like her.”

“She’s lying directly to his face, how fake.”

“Disgusting.”

They continued spouting lies in front of Jimin, telling him about how you were only using him, how you would curse his very existence behind his back.

Jimin approached you, his wet shoes squeaking on the tile floors.

You backed up, intimidated, bumping the back of your leg against another desk and falling to the floor.

...Would begging help?

When you finally looked up at him, begging felt like an appealing option.

Jimin’s eyes glistened, chocolate colored irises now hardened and flashing gold.

They were even colder than the ones you’d seen in your dreams, and you felt the temperature around you drop considerably.

You must have been going crazy with terror, something that wasn’t completely amiss in your town. The girls behind you were feasting on the fearful expression in your eyes.

Then, right as you were about to stand, Jimin gently put his hands on your elbows and guided you up.

To their surprise, he tugged you to your feet, wrapped his arms around your shoulders, and pulled you in for a hug.

“You must have been so scared, weren’t you, (Y/N)?” Jimin whispered in your ear. “Those rats dared to mess with you. They tried to come between us with petty rumors and tricks. It’s okay, I’m here now. I believe you.”

He rubbed his hand up and down your back, the water from his uniform seeping into the front of yours. “I’ll make sure you have nothing to fear.”

Jimin pulled away from the hug, smiling at you. He then turned to face the girls, and with that same chilling smile, spoke.

“You all enjoy playing pranks, yes?”

The girls’ expressions changed in a matter of seconds, from snickers and taunts to tearful pleads.

Seph could hardly pick her jaw up off the floor. “Jimin! It was (Y/N), we all saw her-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” You heard a low chuckle sound from the doorway and whipped your head towards the sound.

“I saw everything with my own eyes.” Hoseok stood in the entrance, his arms crossed as he leaned against the door frame.

When had he gotten there?

“And quite frankly, I don’t take too kindly to you lying about what happened to my darling little brother.” His famed smile slipped from his face as he stared down the girls with more hatred than you’d ever seen him possess.

“Jimin...” you reached out to get his attention, but he couldn’t pry his gaze away from the detestable scum that stood before him.

How quickly the tables had turned, you thought as you watched them cower.

Jimin calmly walked toward her and tucked his hand underneath her chin, yanking her ear to his mouth.

He directly whispered into Seph’s ear, but everyone in the room besides (Y/N) heard the same thing, the message pulsing loud and clear inside their heads.

“I’ll make you wish you had never done that.”

He left the group huddling against one another in fright.

“You’ll have to try harder than that.” Hoseok smirked and kicked off the door, walking off with his hands in his pocket.

You stood, incredulous at what had just happened.

“Jimin.” You lay your hand on his shoulder and he covered it with his, turning to meet your gaze. His eyes were wide with expectation.

“Let’s go see your brother, we can get you some new clothes.” You said softly. He smiled serenely and nodded, dragging you to the door by the hand.

Before you could step out, however, he turned around to face them and glowered. “Clean this mess up.”

Seph whimpered and knelt down to pick up the bucket. The other girls scrambled to collect paper towels to dry the floor.

You watched them, trying to conjure up some form of sympathy. That could have been you, cowering beneath him. Moments ago, that was you.

Frighteningly enough, that familiar, heart-strengthening feeling made no appearance. There was no hatred, no remorse. You felt nothing as you were dragged away to the third floor.

Jimin knocked on the door to the student council room, smiling as he spotted his brother. Namjoon, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Hyung! I need a new uniform.”

He stepped back to let the two of you enter. Jimin released your hand and beelined for the atrium, grabbing a new shirt and a pair of pants. He then stepped into the bathroom and loudly shut the door.

“Do you mind telling me what that was all about?” Namjoon looked down at you for a moment before his eyes flew up and he stared at the wall with newfound interest. “Feel free to grab a change of clothes as well.”

You followed his gaze and jumped at just how wet the front of your shirt had gotten. “Thanks,” you muttered, desperately hiding your blush.

I’m seriously finding myself back here too often.

You got another polo from the closet and left the door open as you changed, praying that Jimin wouldn’t leave the bathroom and that Namjoon wouldn’t walk around the corner. To keep him busy, you filled him in on what had happened moments before.

When you were finished, you stepped out into the main room with your wet shirt folded over your arm. Namjoon leaned against the wooden table with his arms crossed. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked as though he didn’t know whether to laugh or punch someone.

You glanced at Namjoon and thought back to the way he looked at the people around him.

It quickly dawned on you how bothered you were by Namjoon’s view of everyone around him as some sort of game.

He always wore an amused smile on his face: when he was looking at his mother in his family home, when he heard what Constance did to you, when he saw all of the students worrying over Chance, and whenever Aemilia and her antics were brought up.

He probably thought he was so clever at hiding it, at being the misfortunate yet accomplished gentleman that everyone perceived him to be, but you saw right through his act.

“The audacity they have to dare make such a ruckus on school property,” He clenched his jaw. “Don’t worry. They will surely receive proper punishment.”

You nodded, eyes glazing over with indifference.

You were too grateful that it was not you or Mana and too exhausted to be concerned with the affairs of other students.

They should have been prepared for this, at the very least. You were only worried about the well being of you and your loved ones.

Did that make you incredibly selfish? Did that make you just like...them?

A hot flash of anger rose in you and died as quickly as it had appeared.

Perhaps Namjoon’s act angered you because it was so similar to, no, better, than your own.

Your face twisted in response to your thoughts. “Thanks for the help. I’ll be sure to pay you back. Tell Jimin I’ll see him in class,” you muttered and bowed then left, needing to separate yourself from them as soon as possible.

Namjoon watched you leave, intrigued by the sudden look of displeasure you wore. “...She noticed,” he chuckled to himself.

"She must not have liked it,” Jimin said as he walked out, fully changed. His hair was still a little wet, but it was nothing he couldn’t take care of later.

Namjoon scoffed.

His little brother subsequently seized opportunity of your absence to explain to Namjoon just how delightful you looked in front of him.

“She looked as though she were about to beg, hyung. As gorgeous a sight as it was, those lower beings had the nerve to send her to her knees.” Jimin growled. “They terrified her, made her think I was going to hurt her.”

“What would you like to do with them?” Namjoon asked him as he leaned against the wooden table, a familiar smirk on his face.

By the end of homeroom, those girls were removed from your section. By the end of lunch, they had left your class and the school completely.

——————————————————————

The final bell rang and you lifted your head off your desk. You’d been trapped in your thoughts since earlier today, but your class schedule had given you no time to focus on your inner monologue.

Someone’s finger tapped your shoulder and you snapped out of your thoughts, directing your attention to them.

A freshman stood before you nervously and passed you a folded piece of paper.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

The kid nodded and scurried out of the classroom.

You unfolded the paper, reading the slightly disorganized handwriting.

You and me, (L/N). Show up alone. Rooftop. 4 pm.

You didn’t even need to ask the kid who it was from.

“This is the game you’re going to play?” You mumbled to yourself. “You still can’t even confront me face to face.”

Unfortunately for you, you already were alone. Mana never came to school today, as they had gone with their father to visit their grandmother at her nursing home, and Jimin was going to be in robotics club for the next forty-five minutes or so.

Then again, Brooklyn and Constance didn’t look like they were attached to Aemilia’s hip today either. The brunette spent all of lunch sending her a bunch of particularly nasty glares from across the cafeteria.

You eyed the clock. fiddling with your phone. After several minutes of deliberation, you opened it to text your mother that you would take yourself home today.

Let’s get this over with.

Approximately thirty minutes later, you shouldered your back pack on and made your way to the school staircase.

You texted Mana an update on where you were going and what you were going to do, just in case. After a second thought, you also texted Jimin.

They must not have had their phones on them because they didn’t text back immediately, so you locked yours and put it in your pocket.

When you finally arrived to the rooftop, you saw Aemilia standing near the edge, strawberry blonde ponytail swinging in the autumn breeze.

You already weren’t feeling well and wanted to go home several hours ago. Alas, you were here.

Your school rooftop was moderately large; appropriate, considering the size of the building. There was nothing up there but a few stacked, forlorn chairs, scattered materials, and blocks of concrete that functioned as storage spaces.

“What do you want, Aemilia?” You asked tiredly.

She didn’t say anything, nor did she turn around. You walked a couple steps closer to her and stopped. “Hello?”

“Did you enjoy yourself, (Y/N)?” She asked, her back still facing you.

You squinted in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you enjoy taking everything away from me? Everything that I deemed mine?” Aemilia finally turned to face you.

On the outside, she looked no different than she had a couple of days ago, but her eyes seemed...hollow.

“I didn’t take anything from you.” You pointed out. “Though, it sounds like you finally realized how skilled you are at pushing people away from you. That has nothing to do with me.”

“Don’t lie to my face.” She croaked out a laugh. “Don’t you dare claim that you haven’t stolen anything of mine.”

Her gaze turned malicious. “I thought you’d be a bug. Small, easy to crush. I wanted to make you even more insignificant than you already were. Unidentifiable.”

“But the harder I tried, the more I failed to crush you. I wanted to rub you into the dirt, but you kept on escaping unblemished.” She gazed in bored ire at her own two hands as though there was something on them that only she could see.

“So I realized, if I can’t crush you, then I’ll just have to destroy you. Completely.”

Foreign hands grabbed your arms with a vice and you started, immediately fighting to pry them off.

“Are you fucking serious? What are you doing?” You voice was a mixture of fear and disbelief.

Had your greatest fear finally come true? Were the Kims actually going to make an example of you?

“I’m simply executing my right as an Augustus. I am removing anyone who is a threat to the Kim’s empire. My future empire.” She calmly remarked, nodding tonce o whoever was behind you.

No. She was doing this for her own purpose. Her sense of order, of what was right in the world.

“Aemilia! You can’t do this!” Your voice raised in pitch and your breathing increased, your blood pumping faster and faster by the second. The hands on your arms were growing tighter and tighter.

“Oh, (Y/N). I tried to warn you several times. You didn’t listen.” She chided with false disappointment. “You did this to yourself.”

“Are you scared? Have you now realized your wrong doing? What a shame.” You watched in horror as a deranged smile crept its way onto her face and Aemilia threw her head back in laughter. “It’s already too late!”

There was no time for her descent into madness.

You stilled for just a second, then rocked your head back and successfully slammed it into your captor’s. There was a low grunt from behind you and the person let you go. You took off without a second thought.

You didn’t even bother trying the school door, as you knew it would be blocked.

Instead, you ran past Aemilia, shoving her aside as hard as you could, in the direction of the roof’s edge.

The strawberry blonde fell, but her laughter didn’t pause--if anything, it only rose in volume.

You realized the person had regained control of themself, as they came barreling after you.

Yet you also knew that one floor below you, there was a balcony informally used by all the students as a multipurpose space. To your knowledge, it consisted of old blankets and furniture.

I’d rather take my chances with an old table or couch than these bastards, you thought as you ran towards the eaves.

The closer you got, the harder your heart beat in your chest. You were terrified. But somehow, under all the fear, you were able to rationally think and suppress your fears.

You willed yourself to keep running and, before you could think about it, threw yourself over the edge.

You were in the air for about three seconds before your captor grabbed you by the jacket and stopped your descent. With surprising strength, they yanked you up and backward, tackling you to the floor.

Your body met the concrete with a harsh slam and you yelled out in pain. Hopefully, you had received nothing other than a few nasty bruises.

Aemilia’s laughter had quieted by now and she stood on her feet. She brushed her clothes off with a pleased grin.

“Nice try, sweetie. Mr. Byun, why don’t you give dear (Y/N) here a reminder on what happens should she mess with the Augustus family?” She crooned.

Your captor pinned your hands behind your back and shifted so that they were kneeling on your arms, bones digging into your back. He grabbed you by the hair and slammed your head repeatedly into the concrete.

It hurt.

It hurt more than when you sprained your ankle that one time walking to a monthly meeting and had to continue walking on it for the rest of the evening.

It hurt more than when your mother healed a particularly deep cut of yours by stitching it up herself because she couldn’t afford to take you to the hospital.

It hurt more than seeing your mother’s face whenever you asked about your father.

Everything hurt.

You couldn’t even cry out in pain as it would take up too much of your effort, effort that you didn’t have to spare.

“Thus, I declare myself the victor of our little battle of wills.” Aemilia chirped, not at all disturbed by the violence occurring in front of her.

There was something hot running down your forehead. After a couple of blinks, red crept into your eyes, falling down your face with your tears.

“Your pride’s going to be the death of you.” You choked out, then winced as the Mr. Byun kicked you harshly in the stomach.

“Should my time arrive, at least I will go out in a blaze of glory.” She said brazenly, beaming with triumph. As she bathed in the light of the afternoon sun, her strawberry blonde hair turned a shocking red.

You blinked blood out of your eyes and squinted up at Aemilia, not that it helped as your blurry vision kept her form shifting in and out of focus.

“Yet I can’t say the same for you.”

Then the grip in your hair tightened and your face met concrete for the last time, your entire world going dark.

Halfway across the campus, Kim Jimin turned his phone on and felt his heart drop to his stomach as his eyes landed on your text message.

——————————————————————

hey y’all! whew this is a long one--i’m sorry for taking longer than normal to update! thank you all so much for your enthusiasm and love! i adore reading your theories and comments :D i hope you all enjoy this chapter! feel free to let me know what you think will happen next~

~taglist~

@melaninkpops @loserwithapen @hellaspookystudent @ecillartto @omgsuperstarg @ace-angel-judas @jjamsbangtan @lovinggalaxies @lovesick-heart0 @ksxmpoison @girlmeetsliv3 @thedarkwinterrose @purpuravm @oneweirdbean @hopelessfountainjoonie @mazmaz30 @enigmaticlove-03 @uppiespuppy @queenceline22 @kokofikats @taeyohonic @creatorspalace @supertweetycherry @anachikartadze

#yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere kim namjoon #yandere kim taehyung #yandere kim seokjin #yandere jung hoseok #yandere min yoongi #Yandere jeon jungkook #yandere park jimin #yandere ot7 x reader #yandere x reader #yandere high school #high school au #bts cult au #supernatural #supernatural creature au #yandere jhope #yandere rm #yandere v x reader

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stuff-from-the-void-matron · 3 years

Text

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (3)

(c!technoblade x fem!reader)

(some people liked chapter 2 so here’s chapter 3. whether or not there’s a chapter 4 is dependent on if this one gets any comments/reblogs.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re not exactly sure when your plans for a house shifted from ‘maybe a two story house’ into ‘some kinda roman temple/shrine type building’ instead.

Probably after the third time you had to tear down what you were building because it just didn’t look right. You’d initially not been able to go anywhere with the white quartz (you’d made a base but it looked stupid so you’d tossed it) so you’d switched it with a birch wood. That was where the problems started. First you’d tried your hand at making a cute little cottagecore house, but it just didn’t look cute to you and instead came out kinda frumpy? So you scrapped it, even though it pained you.

“Hours wasted.”

Then you tried making another house, this one taller and with dark wood. But it ended up looking like some kind of Viking home, no matter how much you tweaked it, which totally clashed with the vibrant floral scenery around you. It would work better in a snowy biome. So you’d scrapped that one too, none too happy either.

“Why do I suck?”

Then you’d tried your hand at making a cute mushroom house! But…. it was awful. No matter what you did it just didn’t look right?? You tried making the stem ‘natural’ like it would look in minecraft but then it looked too artificial to you. Then you tried making it look more normal but then it just ended up looking wonky. Long story short.. you hated it. You scrapped it, maybe a little more angry than the previous two times. That was when you’d gone back to the white quartz blocks.

And you started with a huge square, then that sorta morphed into a circle. Or as ‘circular’ as this world’s building blocks could get. Then it just sorta.. went from there? Before you knew it you had a circular white temple/shrine with a domed and tiered ceiling and four tall stained glass windows with star and sky designs. You’d gotten into the construction as it had begun to be more fun. You’d even hung lanterns by chains from the ceiling in symmetrical points and it gave the whole place a nice vibe you think. Especially when it started raining outside.

Once it was all done to your satisfaction you just sat in the middle of the quartz floor and gazed up at the gently swaying lanterns. You’re glad you’d ended up with this place, it looks pretty and has a calm vibe you can resonate with.

It would be dawn soon so you decided since you were done you’d go to bed since you had nothing else to do at the moment. Or well that had been the plan until you placed down your bed and couldn’t help but notice how utterly ridiculous a single bed in the corner of this huge temple looked. It actually made you snort before deciding then and there you needed a bed that somewhat matched the temple aesthetic you guessed you were going for now.

-0-

You ended up making this huge canopy bed with curtains and a platform you had to walk up a step to get to the three beds you’d put on it to look right. Under normal circumstances you’d not like such an overly lavish bed but it certainly fit the almost regal aesthetic your new temple home had. Which was just fine you supposed, it’s not like you were opposed to it. Just not what you’d planned to do from the get go.

Only problem now was.. the place still looked weirdly empty of life. Like one of those barren ‘minimalism’ nightmare homes rich people get off to. So you went through the inventory and started looking for stuff to decorate with. On the wall to the left of the entrance you set up an area for a brewing stand and cauldron as well as an ender chest, mostly just because it looked cool with the purple particles. You also hung up some item frames on the wall by the quartz counters you set up and picked out a bunch of pretty colored potions to hang in them.

Then on the opposite wall you made a little library with an alcove in the middle for an enchantment table. With a lantern on top of the bookshelf next to the crafting table and clay pots of flowers on the uppermost bookshelves to give the area a nicer look. You even added some fluffy carpet in front of the area to enhance the comfiness. And when you went over to the front door and then turned to look at the whole space you smiled because it really did look good. Larger than you’d intended, sure, but also very comfy now too.

You think you’re done with the inside until you look up at the bare walls between the stained glass windows. They were a little… naked. So you tried hanging up some paintings but… they looked terrible. The ‘round’ angle of the windows kept the options for what paintings you could put up pretty narrow. So you forgot that idea and instead tried putting up item frames! But you put some up and disliked it almost immediately. It felt way too busy so you got rid of those too.

You were getting tired of decorating so you just grabbed a random banner (purple because why not?) and then you grabbed a handful of different colored dyes before pulling out a loom. You tried a bunch of different designs, threw out most of them because they either ended up with ugly clashing colors or looking way too busy. But you finally settled on one that was a purple banner with an orange gradient coming up from the bottom and finally a gold sun right in the middle. It looked very pretty, like a sunset!

Once you were happy you hung a couple inside then on a whim you even hung a couple outside your door on either side. It made the outside look prettier in your opinion so once you were done (for real this time) you went and just flopped into bed, not feeling more than a touch tired but with nothing else to do at the moment. So you snuggled into your big cozy bed and drifted off to sleep~

-0-

Days passed since you built your home and you kept up work around the village, planting bamboo and berry bushes in a wall around it in a circle as a form of defense against the Illagers. They were kinda jerks and seemed to only want to kill villagers. Which wasn’t cool. And yeah you could have dug a moat or pit around it instead you guessed but you didn’t want any of the villagers falling in and you felt like they would…

So a wall of bamboo and prickly berry bushes it was. And it works! And looks dope. So win/win.

And it was as you were on your way to put some lights at the bottoms of the ponds and rivers that you noticed it from the corner of your eye. One of your sunset banners! But it was hanging up outside of the weaponsmith’s place instead of on your temple home where you knew you left it. But then you noticed another one hanging up outside the stonemason’s workshop…

You look over at your home up on the hill and see your banners still in place. And you know none of them trudged all the way up there just to steal one from the inside so you decide to investigate more in the village. And the further you walk in the more banners with your pattern on them you see. Actually every building you pass has at least one hung up somewhere near the door. You blinked before chuckling a little and thinking to yourself,

‘Oh! They all must have seen the banner I made and liked it! So they made their own to hang up. That’s actually pretty cute. I’m glad they like it.’

You were blissfully ignorant to the fact that the villagers have started to see you as their saint of sorts. Their goddess of prosperity and kindness. Without whom they would still be lost and living in pathetic huts and with no drive to acquire a skill and better themselves. They honestly look back on those times as such a dark period of their lives. When they were ignorant of their own abilities without your blessing to guide them. They owed you their lives and they wanted to show their thanks to you.

So when they saw you put up your sunset banners on your temple they quickly went to the shepherd and asked him to make them some just like it! And the shepherd, with his skill being a master thanks to your wonderful trading help, was easily able to craft such banners. Every villager had at least one by the time the sun was going down, all of them proudly being hung on the outsides of their homes and work buildings to show their allegiance to you!

But it wouldn’t stop there. The villagers wanted to give back even a fraction of what you have given to them.

-0-

In the following weeks you definitely noticed the villagers acting… odd. It started small at first, with them each coming to you and giving you gifts. The shepherd gave you a pair of blankets that were beautifully crocheted with this fluffy wool yarn, one that’d been dyed a soft baby pink while the other was a soothing sea foam color. You thanked him with a smile three times over and he seemed endlessly happy you liked them. You took them home and laid them across your bed and liked the pop of color they provided your space.

Though after that the farmer and leatherworker both met you at the entrance to your temple and each gifted you some things they thought you’d like. The farmer happily handed over a full basket of freshly baked bread along with another basket containing a bushel of golden carrots and almost a full melon’s worth of glistering melon slices. While the leatherworker offered up a pair of dainty leather sandals that looked like they would lace up your legs to just below your knees. And also what looked like a prettily crafted leather utility belt! It had lotus details and golden studs and buckles on the front and back. And one large pocket, one medium zipper pocket, and two smaller pockets. You loved all of their gifts and thanked them both over and over while safely putting the food away (and maybe eating some bread right then) and putting the slippers and belt on.

You were beyond grateful and thought that was the end of that.

You… were wrong.

-0-

As the days turned into weeks you were lavished with more and more offerings. It took you a while to realize that’s what they were; offerings. You got a little uncomfortable with all the gifts after a bit but when you started to refuse them the villagers looked so sad so you began to accept them again. Especially after they tried to make ‘better’ stuff for you after your initial refusal, under the impression the last ones weren’t good enough for you or something. It started to get hard to take in all the gifts, because sometimes you weren’t available in the village (you still liked to explore) or because you were working on something and they couldn’t reach you. So as a solution you set up a double chest outside your temple for them to put the gifts in.

They eagerly adapted to that and each night you’d clean out the chest, putting away practical gifts and discreetly getting rid of ones you had WAY too many of. Like the food. You had a full double chest of food and you didn’t need anymore, but saying so would probably hurt their feelings. So this was the easiest way. Plus a lot of the gifts you actually DID like. Like the sandals, hip pocket belt, and the pretty white dress you were currently wearing. The under part of it was just a simple white sleeveless mini dress that went above your knees (you’re not sure it was that shirt when you first tried it on..) and the over part of the dress was a sheer white maxi dress with loose ruffled sleeved that hung off your shoulders, and a slit on each side that helped with ease of movement.

You’d taken to wearing the dress, the hip pocket belt, and sandals every day. They were all comfortable and looked pretty good on you now that you think about it. Not to mention the fabric was light and breathable too, which helped keep you from getting too hot. You’re not sure what kind of fabric it’s made of, but whatever it is it’s light enough to not make you sweat but it’s also heavy enough to keep you from getting cold when it’s windy. Regardless, it’s your go-to outfit these days.

But aside from the offerings and stuff, you had to sit down and really examine your current position. You really took the time to pay attention to how the villagers were treating you. And you eventually came to the conclusion that they were treating you like some kind of saint or deity. They gave you the best of their wares as offerings, they took on your banner as their own (presumably as a show of loyalty), and they almost seemed to worship the ground you walked on. This isn’t even mentioning the statues that they’d put up of you… Like, they were good! Very well done and made of polished white quartz but.. it was still strange. Though like everything else you can’t say you weren’t getting used to it all.

You sighed and rolled with it.

-0-

You realized one day you’d never been to the Nether. And you wondered if the rules here (like mobs not bothering you) was also true there? You couldn’t deny you were sorta excited to go see, but also scared. You HATED the freaking Hoglins when you played Minecraft before this place. They were always so aggressive and you can’t count how many times they’d killed you, the bastards. But your curiosity won out over your anxiety so you grabbed the enchanted diamond pickaxe you’d been given and then paused while grabbing a stack of gold bars.

“Wait I need to wear gold right? Or the Piglins will be all mad,” you said as you grabbed a gold helmet from your inventory.

You thoughtlessly went to put it on but jerked the helmet back when it clanged against something hard. Something hard that made you wince as a small shock of pain went through your skull. A curse left your lips as you asked out loud what the fuck THAT was about. You were in the middle of trying to come up with an explanation when you reached up with your free hand and flinched when it came into contact with something on your head. Something that 200% was NOT your hair or skull. Panic bubbled inside you and your stomach sank into your feet as you whipped the gold helmet up to look into its polished surface to see yourself.

Horns? Little blunt horns… On your head.

With a shaky hand you reached up, sort of hoping this was just a dream. But when your fingertips brushed against the soft velvety texture of the horns your breathing grew faster and you pulled your hand away like you’d been burned. You dropped the helmet, not even hearing it clatter against the floor as you stumbled back, nearly tripping over the step that led up to the platform your bed was on, but you somehow managed to get to the bed and sit down.

Before you knew it you’d burst into tears and buried your face into your hands, sobbing and unable to cope with this new fuckery.

You’ve had to deal with so much weird insane shit since ending up here, wherever the fuck HERE was. You were honestly so tired. You’ve done your best to stay calm, stay sane, and just keep going. And for the most part you have! You focused on surviving, building, and dealing with the villagers. You’d probably feel silly for breaking down over some dumb horns later, especially after you’d barely batted an eye over your weird ears, teeth, and EYES. But the breakdown was probably more to do with life deciding to give you another slice of bullshit despite your overflowing plate. At least that’s what the logical part of your mind was thinking.

But the illogical part, the emotional part, was just so done. So you cried and cried and cried your very soul out until no sound was leaving you anymore. And then, once you were cried out and exhausted you weakly crawled onto the pillows and just passed out.

You’d deal with this new shit later.

-0-

Far on the outskirts of the opposite side of the village from your temple a young boy with golden hair stumbled across the entrance to said village.

He’d never seen this village before and was curious. He’d have gladly stormed in and started going through villager chests for loot but it was getting close to dusk and his older brother said he needed to get back asap. Now usually he’d shrug off his brother’s bossy nature but he’d sounded worried so he decided to hurry and get back before it got too late.

But before he turned and left he marked down this village’s coordinates so he could get back to it later..

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tag list:

@salinesoot @lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107

#technoblade x reader #technoblade #dsmp #dream smp #mcyt x reader #tommyinnit #tommyinit mcyt #c!techno #c!tommy

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strawberrysoup · 4 years

Text

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 1

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 3.3k chapters: 1/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

Cleaning rich people’s vacation homes hadn’t been your dream job growing up. You had such high hopes when you were a kid, well into your teens, of becoming a zoologist. It had started off like most kid’s dreams—in kindergarten you wanted to be a veterinarian. That grew into wanting to become a herpetologist, but then you wondered, why limit yourself? As a zoologist you could be around tons and tons of animals, studying their behaviors and ecological impacts. It was about half way past your fourteenth birthday that you realized none of your dreams mattered.

You woke in the middle of the night to a crippling pain in your stomach, an unbearable heat boiling under your flesh. You must’ve been screaming, because your parents burst in frantically—only to stop dead upon stepping past the threshold. At the time you had no idea why, but it had been shock. Omegas were rare nowadays, more and more betas were being born while the number of omegas dropped. It was a point on contention; betas could breed with alphas, rendering the omega almost obsolete but alphas, especially ones with packs, wanted omegas.

Personally, you figured that evolution had decided to take things into its’ own hands. Everything about omegas spat in the face of adaption; they were small and delicate, hardwired to obey alpha commands even to their own detriment, experienced a full weeks’ worth of being completely and utterly incapable of survival on their own—

Well, unless one acquired (through whatever means necessary) methods to prevent it that one. Heats, a homegrown threat guaranteed to commit acts of violence at least twice a year. By the time your first had worn off, your parents had already jumped into action. They had three different packs bidding on you. Your mother had been bubbling with glee, talking about how wonderful it was that she had produced an omega when she herself was a beta. Your very existence was about to rocket them into both fame and fortune. So, you ran away. That same night.

It had been shockingly easy to locate illegal suppressants. They taught all about them in school, how they were horrible and taxing on an omega’s physiology. Suppressants masked an omega’s scent, prevented their heats, and (in your opinion) were the best invention of the twenty first century. You couldn’t have given a flying fuck about what negative impacts they might’ve had on your body—death would be a reprieve. Unfortunately you’d yet to have any of the widely touted negative effects (effects that you were pretty sure were made up to keep omegas afraid and compliant) and so you found yourself cleaning rich people’s vacation homes just over the Canadian border.

You’d been living out of your car since you first bought it at sixteen, for five hundred dollars. You gave a creepy beta a blowjob to get your license forged. It was the best investment you’d ever made (not that you had the opportunity to make many) and the clunker was still getting you from point A to point B and that’s all you needed. You had to move constantly, staying in one place too long meant people started to notice you, especially in the small towns you frequented in Ontario. But there was so much forest surrounding you that every once in a while you could just drop off the face of the earth, camping so deep in the woods no one would stumble across you. It made staying anonymous so much easier.

That was actually the current plan, after you finished cleaning this last massive cabin; to abscond into the woods for a while, until you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You won’t return to this town for at least a year. You’ll spark recognition when you return, but not enough for anyone to consider you more than an outsider in their close-knit community. The kind woman who lets you work for her cleaning company so sporadically will remember you when you ring her, the only person particularly thrilled to hear you’re back for a few months.

You do an excellent job and you do it fast— you can thoroughly and perfectly clean a 6 bedroom mansion by yourself in less than 10 hours and you were paid under the table so you didn’t require overtime, which Mrs. Hunt loved (there was no tax to be taken from an unreported cash payment though, so it was a fair trade in your opinion). You would work yourself to the bone, 10 hours a day everyday there was work available for at least three months and then dip without any expectations until the next time you returned, when she was gushing over the amazing reviews your work had gotten the last time you were around.

It was symbiotic existence—you were paid well for your efforts, more than enough to sustain living out of your car for months at a time, and your performance drove her online reviews into the 4.9 stars range and made it feasible for her to raise her prices. Mrs. Hunt didn’t ask any questions either, even when you requested to only work alone and couldn’t provide any identification beyond a driver’s license.

You were finishing up the kitchen in what was definitely one of the nicest places you’d ever cleaned when your phone went off in your back pocket. It made your skin prickle. Very few people had your number and you couldn’t think of a single reason they’d ring you instead of texting unless something was wrong. You propped the mop against your shoulder and dug out the phone, frowning at Mrs. Hunt’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Hunt,” you answered, your voice coming out semi-robotically as you strained not to sound panicked while continuing the conversation like a normal fucking person, “I’m just about done here, I was finishing the dry mop in the kitchen when you called and then all I need to do is pack up.”

“Oh perfect! I was calling because the owner just rang me, apparently some of his packmates will be arriving a bit earlier than anticipated—potentially within the next hour. Something about someone getting caught up at work, I’ll spare you the details. But if you’re almost done then you’ll probably be gone by the time they arrive.”

“Certainly Mrs. Hunt,” you’d immediately started frantically dry mopping the moment the words ‘within the next hour’ escaped the woman’s mouth, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder. “I’ll be gone in the next few minutes.”

“Now even if you aren’t its okay,” the concern in her voice meant that your own had betrayed you, waivered when you responded without your knowledge. “I always warn the owners that if they arrive before the scheduled time that there’s a possibility the house won’t be done and/or there might be people actively working in the house. You won’t get in any trouble, okay?”

“R-Right, thank you ma’am,” you swallowed heavily, finishing the last swipe across the tile in the kitchen and hustling back into the foyer. “I really won’t be but a minute though. I always keep all of my equipment put away and together if I’m not using it, so I really just need to pack up the mop.”

Which you’d already shoved into the rolling cart you picked up each morning that held all of your cleaning supplies provided by the company.

“Don’t forget your bucket too!” Mrs. Hunt sounded smiley again, “I’ll leave the key under the mat so you can stow your cart tonight. Have a good one swee—.”

“You too!” You might’ve hung up a touch too soon to be considered polite, shoving the phone back into your pocket and running into the kitchen. There was no time to dwell on manners.

The mop bucket was sitting on the counter, already washed and dried and waiting to be put away. You’d started keeping your things completely put away at all times the same day you’d been accosted by a homeowner who arrived home earlier than expected while you were still trying to pack up. You’d tried to put your notice in that night, a couple of years ago now, but Mrs. Hunt begged you not to—promised it would never happen again. This must’ve been her best attempt at preventing it. At least you had already planned to leave town tonight anyway.

You nearly sprinted back to the cart, haphazardly tossing the stupid bucket on top and wheeling it towards the huge front doors. You’d just stopped to reach around and grab the handle when the knob turned and the left door was pushed open, nearly hitting your cart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he was a beta, curly haired and dark eyed with pale skin, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did I knock anything over?”

“N-No, sir,” you pulled the cart back a few steps, nearly trembling with the effort it took not to blast right past him, especially when you noticed him carefully scenting the air. "The house is all clean, I was j-just leaving.”

“Thank you, for getting everything clean for us. We don’t get to come out here as often as we like, I’m sure the place collected a lot of dust in our absence,” he smiled, looking both parts shy and calculating to your well trained eye— and you had no time for such consideration.

“Not too much, h-have a nice night!” You could feel your pulse racing and that was bad. Even the good suppressants, the ones that most of your money went to, had difficulty completely masking the scent of panicking omega.

“Did you use bleach?” The question caught you off guard and you almost jumped when he put a hand on your cart, glancing through the array of chemicals.

“Y-Yes, in the bathrooms. I wasn’t informed of any sensitivities—”

“Nothing a little fresh air won’t take care of,” you wanted him to stop looking at you like that, like there was some pale flash of recognition behind his eyes. “Would you go open the windows in the bathrooms upstairs? I’m afraid my nose is pretty sensitive, several of my packmates are similar.”

You did not like that his nose was especially sensitive and you hated that his packmates were similarly afflicted. It felt like getting punched in the face with a fight or flight instinct, your brain immediately demanded that you leave the cart and run past him—fuck the cart, fuck the job, you could find something else.

“Oh, and do you have the key to the front doors? I might as well get them from you now instead of us having to go down to the office tomorrow.” Your hand immediately dove into your pocket, yanking out the single key and dropping it in his palm. “Thanks— and the windows? Sorry, I just can’t go up there until it’s aired out.”

He wasn’t a huge man but the way he filled the doorway made you second guess trying to run past him, even if he was greying at the temples and looking a little rumpled. It was strange, you wouldn’t usually have such an intense reaction to a beta, but something about him was vaguely unsettling. So instead of trying to make a run for it, you turned on your heel and forced yourself to calmly walk up the stairs. There were four massive bedrooms in the cabin, each with its own bathroom and you’d need to go through and open the windows for the three bathrooms that had them. It meant darting into huge bedrooms, dodging expensive furniture and knickknacks and trying not to dirty the freshly mopped and swept hardwood floors in the process.

It took about five minutes but you felt like you’d run a marathon, your heart was pounding and there was sweat at the nape of your neck. All you wanted was out of the stupid fucking house, immediately. You dashed down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing your cart right where you left it. The door was still open too, but the beta was no where to be seen. You immediately darted forward, grabbing the cart tightly and beginning to push it past the threshold—

You were stopped in your tracks at the sight of two unnecessarily broad alphas. Both were tall, the white man standing just an inch or so taller, with a full beard and blond hair. The black alpha had facial hair too, a cleanly edged goatee to match a faded cut. Both were incredibly attractive and putting off waves of pheromones, to the point that your head floated for a moment. Your lips clamped shut on a whine, instinct trying to push through and alert the two powerful alphas of your presence. Instead you ducked your head and continued out the door.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” Your gaze snapped up, immediately locking with a pair of dark brown eyes. “You the housekeeper?”

“Yes sir,” you answered quietly, stopping short in front of them when neither moved out of your way. “Sorry to have been here so late. Have a good evening.”

Both were still smiling, still pointedly not moving.

“My name’s Steve, that’s Sam,” the blond’s nose twitched, just slightly, and you realized he was very discretely scenting the air. “Nice to meet you. Do you live in town?”

“N-No, please excuse me,” you nudged the cart forward just an inch but they still didn’t budge and panic began coursing through your blood with renewed vigor, “excuse m—”

“Your scent is… confusing,” Steve’s head tilted to the side, “I don’t mean to be crass, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice.”

“It’s always been this way,” the response was automatic and your brain began shutting down all unnecessary functions; you were about to have to run and hope your omega physiology would make you faster than them.

“You smell almost like an omega,” he continued, both hands coming to rest on his hips, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But not quite?”

“I’m a beta.”

“Are you sweetheart?” Sam’s voice was a rumble, his head tilted to the side while his dark eyes burned holes into your skin.

The tone an alpha used with naughty omegas was deliberate and tightly controlled, the same as a command or a purr or a growl. It was on purpose, an attempt to nicely draw out the correct response. He wanted you to admit you were an omega, to tell them the truth of your own volition. The fact that your hindbrain desperately wanted to comply was a completely different issue—one you didn’t have time to address right now.

“Positive,” you breathed, clenching your fists tightly around the handles of the cart for just a second before deciding to leave it behind; you’d never be coming back here, there was no reason to worry about preserving your job.

Your eyes were quick and indefinitely perceptive. Being an omega was one step up from being a prey species, it came with inherent instincts that made you especially good at predicting behaviors. After all, an omega was only as good as their ability to please and soothe packmates. One of the single upsides to being an omega was that you were fast though—fast enough to outrun most alphas. And you only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet, once you were in your car you could certainly get away. So the second you realized the pair was about to shift, moving to face each other more than you, you darted around the cart and dodged to the left.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. There was no way you could’ve known you weren’t dealing with normal alphas. The blond was so fast that he almost moved between blinks—one moment he was still, the next he’d wrapped his arms around you and tugged you back into his chest. His arms were like steel, one wrapped around your torso to keep your arms pinned to your sides while the other carefully held your chin. Your hindbrain was screaming now, submit, submit, make alpha happy and you bit down on your tongue to hold in the whimpers, the omega sounds your throat was trying to produce.

“Shhh, shh, calm down,” it was half a tone away from being a purr and you continued to squirm while you still could—an alpha command was coming, you could feel it in your bones.

“Let Steve smell you,” Sam was rumbling instead of talking again, a similar half purr to how Steve had started speaking. "Everything’s okay, omega.”

You felt a nose nudge down your neck, towards your scent gland and you bared your teeth at the man in front of you. “I’m not an omega!”

“You smell like omega,” Steve’s breath ghosted over your skin and you fought a shiver. "Sort of. It’s buried, under… beta… sour beta?”

“What sort of suppressants are you on, sweetie?” You startled as the beta from earlier emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a dish towel absently. "Are you cutting them with anything? Heroin, or coke? It’s okay, you just need to tell me.”

“Tell Bruce sweetheart,” Sam coaxed, automatically moving to roll up the sleeves of your shirt, evidently looking for track marks. "Where do you get them?”

“I’m not on suppressants!” Your voice was almost a shriek at this point, desperately imitating the behavior of an angry beta rather than a terrified omega. “I’m a beta! Get off of me!”

“Okay, okay, here then,” Steve’s arm around your torso tightened, the one on your chin beginning to work its way down towards your jeans. "There’s only way one to tell for sure.”

Shock and fear and humiliation; an array of emotions swarmed through your body as his hand popped the button but those were the three you could identify and you immediately started thrashing your legs—he was going to check if you had an omega ridge and then everything would be over. It was a defining physical characteristic that couldn’t be passed off as anything other than what it was: a boney protrusion meant to catch on an alpha’s knot so they could be locked in place. In females it was found in the vagina, prominently featured directly before the g-spot so a knot would cause persisting pleasure. For males it was similarly positioned next to the prostate.

“Calm down, calm down!” Sam crooned, hands coming up to cup your face as while Steve’s slithered down the front of your jeans and into your panties. "It’s okay sweetheart, no matter what. Whatever Steve finds, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”

The thrashing was doing nothing but tiring you out, you’d already been intensively cleaning for the past 9 hours without a break and it certainly wasn’t dissuading the hand slithering between your folds. You bit down on your tongue harder, until you drew blood to prevent the whimpers—you couldn’t make that stupid sound, you’d never make that stupid, pathetic, whiney noise, you couldn’t. Not even when a long, thick finger penetrated and sunk knuckle deep. Not even when the pad of said finger brushed your g-spot before hooking onto the ridge, tugging gently in a way that would’ve caused blinding pleasure had you not grounded yourself with the pain of biting your tongue.

“There it is,” Steve’s voice was soft, finger carefully running the length of the ridge. "A nice deep one too.”

“How long have you been taking suppressants?” Bruce prodded quietly, coming to stand next to Sam. “I need to know what sort of damage we’re looking at.”

When you didn’t respond Sam sighed, fingers brushing gently over your chin as he directed you to face him. "Please don’t make us use an alpha command, sweetheart. We just wanna take care of you. Tell Bruce how long you’ve been on suppressants, please.”

You regarded the handsome alpha for several short moments before spitting a mouthful of blood directly into his face.

content warnings: assault, noncon vaginal fingering

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

#avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #tony stark x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #clint barton x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!thor #dark!bucky barnes #dark!tony stark #dark!natasha romanoff #wow i give up its too many #posies chapter 1 #will reblog w tags in just a sec

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esamastation · 3 years

Note

Codywan prompt: CC-2224 was among the command clones whose final exam took place off Kamino at the nearby smugglers haven of Rishi. While performing maneuvers in an abandoned mountainous settlement, three clones were lost to a sudden rockslide, but only two bodies were recoverable, the third having disappeared into the rapids below. Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi had been hoping a simple mission to investigate a smuggling ring would go smoothly, but it seems the force had a different plan.

Obi-Wan has a feeling that the whole mission is some kind of ploy by the Jedi Council to force him to take a holiday. It has Yoda's fingerprints all over it.

Rishi moon is desolate in the exact way he strangely enjoys. It's liveable but uninhabitable, with galactic standard atmosphere but no arable soil and no plant life, with only sandy canyons and dunes and dry mountains and rocky plateaus, rough oceans and wild rivers that went whichever they damn well pleased. The swell of the planet on the night sky overhead is magnificent and overpoweringly bright even in night time and there's something terribly beautiful about being on a planet where no one lives.

Obi-Wan has no doubt that it is actually being used by probably thousands of smugglers as convenient place to hide illicitly acquired goods, it's just the sort of place for that kind for thing… but really – the place is so close to one of his old poems given actual physical form that it has to be intentional.

He's not sure if he's mortified or gratified that someone still remembered the thing – or that the Council thought this would be the sort of thing to help him unwind after Anakin nearly got himself killed, again. They're right, in a way, but by force he's not going to admit it.

Tucking up his hood, Obi-Wan breathes in and out, tasting the un-tasted air of the desolate moon, and lets himself be, for a moment, completely alone in the universe.

And then he feels a stuttering song of a life form, not far from him, quivering and unsteady. Someone is on the planet with him – and they aren't doing too well.

Obi-Wan immediately heads for them, of course – he is there on a mission to supposedly investigate smugglers after all, and this person must be one. Who else would be in such a remote, desolate place? And in either case, they're in trouble and as the only living person in several light years, Obi-Wan is likely the only one who could help.

He expects to find a crashed ship, maybe, or one that had been attacked, something of the nature. He doesn't expect to find a single man splayed open a shoreline of a lifeless river, unconscious and half drowning inside his strange, vaguely mandalorian armour.

"Oh dear," Obi-Wan murmurs, and forgoes trying to get to the man and simply levitates him off the water, and to himself. The man hangs limb in his hold, raining water from under the white plates, and holding him up in the force Obi-Wan gently checks for his breathing, his pulse.

It's weak, stuttering, but as Obi-Wan enforces the man with Force, it grows stronger. It's obvious he's been knocked about, and he'd almost drowned – there's certainly water in the man's lungs – but he's breathing and he's going to live. Obi-Wan touches the helmet, considering it, but… who knows, he might be from the Watch. It sounds like the helmet is offering some oxygen to the man, as it is. Best leave it.

"Well then," Obi-Wan murmurs, manoeuvring the man around with force and then lets him drop into his own awaiting arms. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable, shall we?"

The way to his ship is too long – and it's one-seater anyway – so Obi-Wan searches in the Force until he finds a sheltered place, warm and welcoming in the Force. Obi-Wan could swoon at the sight of the place, when he makes it there – it's a cave in front of a natural hot spring.

"The very universe is conspiring to please me today," Obi-Wan sighs. "Keep this up and I will start waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or perhaps fear my own upcoming doom!"

He lays his rescuee on the warm rocks, making the man as comfortable as he can without removing the armour, and sits down to wait – soaking his feet in the water and trying to restrain himself from stripping and plunging right in. The man he saved is likely not the most trustworthy sort – better not risk it… just yet anyway.

Hedonism, this whole mission is pure Obi-Wan specific hedonism. Stars, Obi-Wan almost fears for whatever unpleasantness the Council is pre-emptively trying to make amends for this time.

Obi-Wan is meditating and almost dozing off in a pleasant, warm haze, when the armoured fellow finally wakes up. He does it in a strange mixture of relief, trust and comfort – and then, clashing all of that, he spots Obi-Wan and aims his blaster at him. The cycling of emotions is so rapid and sharp, that Obi-Wan doesn't even have the chance to reach for his lightsaber.

"Hello there – please don't shoot," Obi-Wan says as pleasantly as he can. "Be a shame to stain this fine pool with blood. Especially since I have done you no harm."

The blaster doesn't waver. "Who are you?" the man demands.

Obi-Wan smiles – he'd given a good deal of thought for his cover story, and had decided to go with the desert hobo one. He doesn't have the ship to play the smuggler, and he isn't dressed for it either – and who else would have any reason to come to a place like this, anyway? The desert hobo is an act that feels truest to his actual personality, too – even if it's only a secret part of him that only tends to come out in secret and poetry.

But what can he say – Rishi moon is beautiful.

"My name is Ben – I found you by the shore over there," he points towards the river, "half drowned and knocked about, judging by the looks of you. I think you took a tumble into the rapids, there. I picked you up and brought you here so that you'd get to recover and hopefully not get a cold."

There's a moment of silence, and then the man says, bland, "Colds are caused by viral infectious diseases not present on Rishi moon. The moon is barren."

"… you are right about that, but you still would have gotten cold," Obi-Wan says, not sure if to be amused or amazed. "Frostbite is no fun either."

"The temperatures here don't get low enough."

"Well, you're a very reassuring sort of man, aren't you," Obi-Wan says, amused. "I suppose you're alright then. Do you mind not pointing that thing at me, though? It's the least comforting thing about you."

There's a moment of hesitation, and then the armoured man puts the gun away. "Ben," he says slowly. "Your name is Ben."

"Yes?" Obi-Wan agrees, a little guiltily. It wasn't exactly a lie – he was known as Ben on some planet. Well, one planet. And now one moon. "That's me – how about you?"

The man doesn't answer, sitting up slowly and shoving his blaster into the holster. Then, watching Obi-Wan carefully, he checks his gauntlet, tapping something into a keypad and then lowering his arm. "Why are you here, Ben?"

Obi-Wan hums and then smiles, looking away. Interesting, very interesting. "I love places like these," he says, motioning to the vista in front of them, the open canyons carved into the landscape by the wild rivers. "There's so little in the galaxy that's so untouched. This place is so little use to so few people, so it's been left be. The only thing that's made any difference here is the wind, the weather, and the pull of the planet, and nothing else. It's… glorious."

Even through the armour he can tell the man he'd fished from the river is giving him an incredulous look. "Glorious?" he repeats.

"Nature of wild things," Obi-Wan agrees and kicks his foot in the water, sending ripples racing over the surface. "Wild nature and desolation of the universe, utter loneliness. We two are likely the only living souls on this whole system, with nothing but the emptiness of the universe all around us. It's glorious."

The armoured man just stares at him for a long, long time. Obi-Wan smiles a little wider as the armoured man looks up to the sky, like he's searching for what Obi-Wan is seeing. He hopes the man does see it.

"Glorious," the armoured man repeats. "Hm."

Obi-Wan grins wider and looks up as well. This is going to be a great mission, he can already tell. Maybe it will even be worth whatever indignity the Council would throw at him next. Who knows. For now, Obi-Wan thinks he's going to enjoy the company in loneliness and see what came of it.

And then they have adventures in Rishi moon while Obi-Wan shamelessly waxes poetry about desolate places and canyons and stuff and eventually gets to take his dip in the hot spring and Cody gets smacked over the head with “oh no, he’s completely ridiculous, I must protect him with my life.”

Not exactly what you asked for, but for a moment I got to live in a world where Obi-Wan might actually enjoy living on Tatooine one day and that was nice. Maybe Cody will live there too, enduring Obi-Wan’s bad poetry about the desert into his old age. That’d be nice too.

#fanfiction #star wars #codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody

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shadowsof-thenight · 3 years

Text

Reunited

Summary: It’s been 15 years since you’ve stepped foot in this school, but now you’re back and Sam is as charming as ever. (this takes place after AoU) Words: 4250 Ship: Sam Wilson x Reader Warnings: Fluff

*** A/N: I’ve been trying to finish a story for Sam for a while now. I hope you’ll like it! The amazing @gnomewithalaptop was my beta for this (like she is for pretty much everything I write) Thank you for all your hard work and kind words! I truly appreciate you.

***

Masterlist

*** You paused for a moment after stepping into the decked-out gym. It was hard to believe that 15 years had come and gone since you’d last had a party here. The room brought back so many memories, not all of which you cared to remember—though plenty had been well worth reminiscing. High school definitely hadn’t been all that bad. Glancing around the room, you recognised many familiar faces, and one in particular stood out. Perhaps it was because of the large group of people surrounding him, or his boisterous laughter resounding through the large open space. Either way, Sam Wilson stood out amongst the crowd, and his smiling face was enough to make you happy you had come.

The group of people currently surrounding him weren’t the people you’d both hung out with in school. This group mostly consisted of what had once been the popular crowd, now eager to drink up the buzz this man was creating. Then again, even if Sam hadn’t become an Avenger, they’d probably still be drawn to him. That’s how it had always been after all. There had always been something so incredibly captivating about him, and he definitely had the charm to back up the interest he sparked.

Another round of laughter over something Sam had said broke you out of the trance you’d found yourself in, and you mentally shook your head to stop yourself from staring any longer. It would soon become weird, possibly a little creepy. In an attempt to quiet the restless butterflies in your stomach, you smoothed out your red dress and took a deep breath. Then you stepped to the side of the entrance and accepted a name tag from the grumpy-looking lady that sat behind a large desk. She looked familiar, though it took you a minute to place her. Mrs. Broussard, the gym teacher that had never really warmed up to you.

She’d only started teaching at the school in your senior year, and by then you had given up any pretence that you enjoyed PE. She had been both surprised and annoyed by your lack of commitment, and many discussions had followed about the necessity of running a minute mile. And while you did receive a passing grade in the end, it was the lowest number on your list upon graduation.

You smiled sweetly as you greeted her and asked how she was doing. Mrs. Broussard only grumbled something in return and then gave her attention to the next arrivals, making you chuckle as you walked away. Honestly, she hadn’t been a bad teacher at all, just one that hadn’t understood others might not be as athletically inclined as she was.

Stepping further into the big square room, you looked around for a familiar face. Though you wanted to walk up to Sam, you hesitated to join the large group. It had been years since you’d last spoken, and you didn’t want to feel like an intruder in the ongoing conversation. Perhaps his newfound fame was a little intimidating. There was also no indication that he would remember you as fondly as you remembered him, and you wondered if he would even want to speak to you at all. You could almost hear your sister’s voice in the back of your mind, scolding you. She’d tell you to man up. He was here, which obviously meant he wanted to see his old school friends.

But, you didn’t man up and walked in another direction instead. Perhaps you could circle back around later on, or he’d find you—which would be even better. Less stressful. Grumbling at your own trepidation, you took a deep breath and plastered a smile on your face. It was time to mingle and if not with Sam, then certainly the wonderful women you’d spend most of your high school years with would do.

“Girrrrlll, you came!” Aurelia called out loudly at your approach. The slight slurring and her enthusiasm told you that she’d already gotten acquainted with the bartender. You chuckled and sped up a little to walk into her outstretched arms.

“How could I pass this up?” you said with a bright smile, your mood infinitely better with the reception your old friends offered.

Soon enough you were pulled into hugs by the other girls and introduced to the people they married—well, the ones that were there. Aurelia’s husband had had to pass, in order to stay with their two young children. Georgette had married her high school sweetheart Joe, who had been part of your group of friends. Hayley was still single, happily enjoying her life as tour guide. And Felicity and Trix were clearly still very much in love with each other. Trix had been a transfer student in your senior year and already out of the closet—it had been her confidence that had given Felicity the courage to come out as well. Each of them looked absolutely stunning in their evening attire, and they certainly appeared happy. Their upbeat demeanour was also enough to finally relieve you of the jitters. Coming alone had been a little scary after all these years. You’d lost touch with all these wonderful people, and you’d had no idea which of them would show up tonight.

“Come on, aren’t you all fancy now?” Trix asked with a wink, and you chuckled. After college, you were the only one that hadn’t come back to New Orleans. A choice you’d never thought twice about, as you’d found your dream job in DC. It wasn’t until you came back this week that you realised just how much you’d missed this city—it really was the most wonderful place on earth. Full of life, laughter and memories. It was like no other.

“Trust me, nothing fancy going on in DC,” you shrugged. Politics weren’t very glamorous for those involved, especially not as a lawyer. There were too many people that needed help hiding their checkered past. “Just very busy.”

“Now that I believe,” Aurelia chuckled.

“So how have you all been?” you asked, and you ended up spending the next hour or so getting caught up in all there was to know about the girls you’d called your friends all those years ago.

It surprised you how easy it was to fall back in step with them, and soon your stomach hurt from laughter instead of those uneasy jitters. You could finally fully relax. You’d missed this place, sure, but not quite as much as this group of people.

***

“A beer and a glass of water please,” you asked the bartender as you leaned on the bar with a smile. Joe had confiscated a tray of champagne, but you’d never acquired a taste for it and had decided on beer instead. Aurelia had opted for water, not wanting to get too drunk to enjoy their reunion.

“I thought I’d never get you alone,” Sam’s voice sounded from behind you. “It’s like high school all over again.”

“Well, it’s the place for it.” You smiled brightly and turned to face him. Quickly, you were engulfed in a tight hug and you could feel Sam’s laughter reverberate through his chest and yours.

“True,” he agreed, his lips close to your ear. Pulling back from the hug, his hands remained on your waist as he looked you over.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said approvingly, going in for a second hug.

“You’re such a liar,” you chuckled, “but you look so good doing it.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sam said wiggling his eyebrows, and you barked out a laugh. It was good to know he was still who you had known him to be.

“Hey, would you stop hogging our celebrity!” Haley said loudly, her voice full of laughter, as she stepped up to the bar beside you. She ordered herself a soda and then turned back to the two of you. “For the two people that spend so long away from here, you do seem to fit right back in,” she added with a smile.

“It’s always going to be home,” Sam admitted and you smiled, nodding in agreement.

“Good, you should visit it more then. We miss you around here,” Hayley said earnestly and thanked the bartender for her drink, moving back towards the rest of the group. Taking your drink and Aurelia’s in hand, you and Sam followed her.

“Oh heavens be praised, another man,” Joe said dramatically and Sam laughed as they too hugged. Back in the day, their group had been pretty equally presented, but some of the other guys were standing with the rest of the football team. Probably reminiscing about their hay days.

***

“Who wants to sneak out of here?” Aurelia whispered, as if anyone outside of their group could hear them over the loud music. It had been a good two hours of chatting and Aurelia clearly wanted to spice things up.

“And go where?” Georgette wondered.

“I don’t know, see how much of the school has changed since we were last here,” Aurelia shrugged and you wiggled your eyebrows, excited to check out the school. For some reason, the fact that you weren’t supposed to made it very appealing—as if none of you had done any growing up these last 15 years. Everyone chuckled and the mood changed from carefree laughter into one of mischief.

Dispersing into smaller groups, you all stealthily tried to make your way towards the exit of the gym. It wasn’t going to be easy; Mrs. Broussard was still seated at her table by the door, and she had never been one to turn a blind eye. However, Sam promised he’d have that covered. After all, he’d been athletic and the woman had actually liked him. You promised to wait for him just outside the door.  Aurelia and Georgette held hands as they snuck past the table, Joe following them while laughing at their antics. You’d learned that Joe had been fast friends with Aurelia’s husband, and the two women were still very active in each other’s lives. For a split second, it had made you jealous—as you’d been so absent—but soon enough, they’d made you forget all about any distance that had existed between you. You remembered that one of their many talents had always been to connect people. Aurelia, much like Sam, drew people to her with her quick-witted and happy character, and Georgette had the biggest heart of all of them. You were actually sad that you weren’t able to meet Aurelia’s husband tonight, but she had made you promise to have lunch at her house tomorrow—an invitation you fully intended to follow up on.

Next were Felicity and Trix, who were giggling far too much to be covert. You had missed Hayley’s exit, though you were sure she’d be close to Georgette and Aurelia. None of that mattered though. Mrs. Broussard was too eagerly engaged in conversation with Sam—and you could tell that it had little to do with his status as Avenger. She seemed genuinely interested to hear how he had been doing. Before you snuck out yourself, you overheard them speaking of his time with the air force, a career choice her son apparently had made as well, having gone on his first tour only last month. Her proud smile softened you up to her a little more.

Hidden in the shadows down the hall from the gym, you waited impatiently for Sam to join you, and when he finally did, his smiling face made your heart skip a beat. It no longer surprised you—he’d always had that effect on you, though he had always been blissfully unaware of it.

For most of high school, you’d had a crush on the man before you, though nothing had ever come of it other than a chaste kiss on a drunken night, and you’d been too afraid of his response the following day to bring it up again.

When he hadn’t spoken of it either, you had simply brushed it off as a drunken adventure—one you did not regret one bit, even if it had sucked that nothing ever came of it. And while it should’ve surprised you that he still had this much effect on you after all these years of radio silence, it really didn’t. He was just that charming.

“Let’s go,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you into the dark hallway leading towards the classrooms in which you’d spent so many hours of your life.

“We never agreed on a place,” you suddenly realised and you both doubled over in suppressed laughter as you tried to remain quiet.

“So none of us got any smarter about our mischief?” Sam asked as you’d both straightened up again.

“Guess not,” you chuckled. “Why don’t we just wander for a bit? Surely we’ll run into the rest.”

He nodded in agreement, going left and pulling you with him.   “So, what’s DC like for you?” Sam asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“Busy mostly, lots of crazy situations to manage,” you said, shrugging.

“I can imagine,” Sam said almost solemnly, and you laughed. He looked at you with confusion.

“Come on, I’ve been doing clean-up for the situations you’ve already fixed,” you said, a little louder than intended, and you both glanced around to make sure you weren’t heard.

“Did I fix them though?” Sam wondered.

“Well, I do like my government organisations to be free of Nazis,” you said, keeping the tone light, though the message was very true.

“It’s still politics.” Sam shrugged. It was clear that nobody needed to tell him that there were a lot of lies involved in politics. And you could not deny it, or make the situation any better than it was.

“True, I doubt that’s ever going to be your scene, but every improvement is important,” you said, ready to break free of work talk. It’s been years since you spoke to Sam, outside of the occasional run in in DC. You felt horrible for not keeping up with him, while living in the same city. “Anyway, enough work talk—what’s life been like since your last tour?” you asked.

“Well, an adjustment for sure.” Sam said as he looked away from you and down the hallway to his right. “I needed a lot of time to get used to things again.”

“I can’t begin to imagine,” you said, looking at the floor in front of you. Perhaps this wasn’t the best direction you could’ve steered the conversation into.

“I got there in the end,” Sam said, a smile back on his face, “Your letters were nice.”

“I hated that I was overseas when you first came back. And then, by the time I’d returned, your life had taken a bit of a turn.”

“It did, but we’re here now, aren’t we,” Sam said, bumping your shoulder. His bright smile was enough to bring about a better atmosphere between you.

“Yes, here,” you chuckled and looked around you and pointed at the classroom to your right. “At history.” Fitting, you thought.

“We’ve got plenty of that,” Sam chuckled, the irony not lost on him either.

“I’ve missed it, this city, the people—you,” you admitted and Sam’s arm was quickly wrapped around your shoulders again.

“This place never does leave you, does it?” he said, looking off into the distance. Perhaps you weren’t the only one to miss it as much as you did.

“I for one wouldn’t want it to either,” you smiled.

“Remember the time we had detention in Mrs. Johnson’s classroom?” Sam asked with a wink and you chuckled. You’d all been caught sneaking into school grounds after hours and been kept after school for two weeks. You’d spent the last detention in your English classroom with Mrs. Johnson, who had been too busy to stick around. She’d been in and out of the room, leaving the lot of you time to have fun. Near the end of the first hour, Sam had decided to carve your initials into his desk—just his and yours. He had said it was because of the fact that you were both getting out after graduation—you’d need something to remember, something to come back too.

‘You think those tables are still there?” you asked, giddy at the idea.

“Let’s check it out,” Sam said, taking your hand in his and pulling you through the hallway towards the right hallway. Both of you were eager to see if your legacy was saved. So eager in fact, that neither of you really appreciated how well your hand fit in his. Not until later.

Two hallways down, you had almost reached your destination and you were nearly skipping to get there. Somehow you’d shed your more serious persona and reverted back to the happy-go-lucky person you used to be—before DC. You could hear voices in the distance and you chuckled at the idea that your friends were already there—Mrs. Johnson had been the only teacher that you'd all had together in your senior year. You were just about to call out when the voice of another person from your collective past boomed through the space.

“Miss Thibedeaux, Miss Cormier, you know better than to wander these halls after hours,” the voice of your old principal rang through the silent hallways. You hadn’t expected him and it startled you enough to freeze. Luckily, Sam quickly pulled you into a dark corner, his hand over your mouth just in case.

“Mr. Williams, we were just reminiscing,” Georgette replied, her voice bright and calm. She was always good at talking her way out of trouble. Not that there’d be much trouble, but for some reason these hallways brought back old habits. You were still hiding from the principal after all.

“Where’s the rest of your little group, Mrs. Thibedeaux?” Mr. Williams asked and Sam’s chest reverberated with the silent laughter he was struggling to keep in. Mr. Williams would not be fooled. The man had been as shrewd then as he was now.

“It’s just us,” Felicity answered for Georgette and you leaned to the side, just to see who’d gotten caught.

In the dim light of Mr. Williams' flashlight, you could see Georgette and her husband standing in the entrance of a classroom, while Trix and Felicity were still in the hallway and smiling brightly at the elderly man before them.

“Let’s go back to the gym and perhaps call your other friends to return as well,” Mr. Williams said with a smile. “There really is no reason to roam about the hallways, now is there?”

“What makes you think anyone else followed us?” Georgette tried innocently.

“Because I wasn’t quite as distracted as Mrs. Broussard,” Mr. Williams chuckled merrily, before waving his arm to lead the way back.

As they moved down the hallway, back to the busy gym, Sam took your hand in his and led you in the opposite direction. Looking over your shoulder, you locked eyes with Trix who waved and smiled, before turning back around.

“Do you want to go back?” Sam asked softly after a few minutes.

“Nope,” you said, popping the p. His hand was still wrapped around yours and you were enjoying the feeling, finally realising how natural it had been for him to grab it twice now. You froze again when footsteps echoed through the hallways a short distance away, and to the right, you could see flashlights coming in your direction.

“Though I do think we’re still sought-after,” you added, pointing towards the lights. Mischief grew in Sam’s eyes, and you chuckled with anticipation.

“It’s a good thing you already ditched the heels,” Sam said, before pulling you down another hallway at a sprint.

“Sam, dude, you know I’m not made for running,” you said, working hard to keep up with him—already breathing wrong.

“Just a little further,” he promised, sprinting down another hallway, before rounding a wall of lockers and pushing you up against the side of them. The flashlights swept the hallway you were in, but no footsteps came closer. Whoever had been holding the lights probably figured you’d run in the other direction. After all, this hallway brought you closer to the gym. It didn’t matter though; all that mattered was the close proximity in which you found yourselves now. Out of breath and still full of laughter, you stood chest to chest with Sam and it was having its effect on you.

Sam took a deep breath, leaning over your shoulder to put his forehead against the cool locker and you took a shaky breath yourself. He smelled nice—something fresh and minty, with a hint of pine. You wouldn’t mind taking a sniff, but again, that would be a little weird. Sam pulled his head back up once he’d gotten his breathing under control, though he remained pressed against you in the dark. His eyes found yours and the mirth was still all too clear in them, bringing a smile to your face again.

“I feel like I’m 16 again,” Sam whispered and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Really, because after that little sprint, I feel 80,” you whispered back.

“A beautiful 80-year-old though,” Sam said, his voice soft and genuine.

“Hmm, keep those compliments coming, and it might get you anywhere,” you chuckled, keeping the vibe light despite the heat that travelled to your cheeks at his words. Even flushed as you were from running and hiding out, he still called you beautiful—that would make any woman flustered, right? Surely it wasn’t just you.

His eyes flickered to your lips for a moment, and your breath hitched—perhaps that crush you’d had on him never really ended. It had just laid dormant all those years. Unconsciously, your eyes flickered to his lips as well and you licked your own in anticipation. Would they be as soft and gentle as they’d been all those years ago?

Sam audibly sucked in air, and your attention went back to his eyes, finding him already looking at you. The staring seemed to last for a few minutes at least, before Sam moved again.

“Beautiful,” he whispered and leaned in, slowly moving towards you—clearly giving you ample opportunity to stop him if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You wanted his lips to devour you, for his tongue to dance with yours and his hands to become oh so much more familiar.

His breath mingled with yours momentarily, and your head got foggy. You never wanted these feelings to end. And when his lips softly pressed to yours, the fog lifted in an explosion. Chaste, quick, gentle—much like all those years ago. And the effect was as devastating as it had been then. When he pulled back all too quickly, you needed a moment to catch your breath.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Sam whispered, and you finally opened your eyes again to look into his as you nodded. You had wanted it too, and you wanted to tell him so, but all your words seemed corny, and you didn’t want to break the spell you were under. So instead you acted—pressing your lips to his in a more eager kiss. One that showed him how much you had thought of it as well, or so you hoped.

His arms snaked their way around your waist, pulling you impossibly close as he responded to your kiss with an eagerness to match it. Heat rose from your stomach to your chest as your hands reached up to caress his cheeks, before going back down his back. All insecurity left you, and you surrendered to the tingling feeling that spread from your toes to your head. Sam pressed you harder against the locker, your bodies touching all over.

Despite the heated moment, the irony of it happening in your old high school wasn’t lost on you, and you nearly broke out in laughter over the silliness of it all. That was, until your heart nearly stopped altogether when a bright light shone in your eyes.   “Well, well—guess who’s been taking the time to catch up,” Aurelia’s voice rang through the air, and Sam reluctantly pulled back from you. He laid his head on your shoulder, while you squinted to look over his shoulder to see Aurelia and Hayley standing there with two Cheshire Cat smiles.

“Hi,” you said lamely, and they laughed as they finally lowered the flashlight they’d been aiming at you. Sam raised his head only to look into your eyes with an intensity that took your breath away. Heat settled in your stomach again as you stared back, and neither of you seemed to care that you had an audience now.

“Maybe buy her dinner first, dude,” Aurelia said loudly, voice full of laughter, and you chuckled, shaking your head. With a deep sigh, Sam stepped back from you finally. He took your hand in his and turned back to your old friends.

“So what’s the best place to do that these days?” he asked them, and Aurelia quickly stepped forward to high-five him.

“That’s more like it. Come on, let’s go find the others and get ourselves some good old fashioned late-night burgers,” Aurelia said, taking charge and walking towards the gym, certain the rest would follow.

#Sam Wilson x Reader #Sam Wilson Fanfiction #Marvel Fanfiction #Sam Wilson #Sam Wilson Fic

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devilinsheepswool · 4 years

Text

When MC first arrives at Devildom they warn Lucifer that the only way to keep them in line is by providing them with incentives, and that he will be wise to heed their warning because they tend to go a bit wild if not kept in check.

They warn Lucifer that punishments will not work, they will only accomplish the opposite because they will make MC want to retaliate. Out of curiosity Lucifer asks what kind of incentives; Grimm, food, clothes, jewels, merchandise, books, free passes from chores and other obligations, all things his brothers treasure.

MC responds with a simple shake of the head, they're much easier than that and with a small smile they reply.

"Gold Stars."

Lucifer intially believes they mean actual gold stars, he doesn't understand how that's any easier, in fact it seems very in line with what Mammon would ask for. He's about to call them insane but MC notices the look of disbelief on his face, their add on comes in late.

"Stickers, I mean." MC clarifies.

"What?" Lucifer asks.

"Gold star stickers. It's how my friends and loved ones get me to behave." MC explains. "I get a gold sticker for every time I do something good or helpful, and an even bigger sticker for whenever I hold back on doing something impulsive or 'dumb'." They continue to explain. "The small stars are worth 1 point and the big ones are worth 3."

"You're kidding, MC." Lucifer deadpans. "Isn't this what a teacher would use on a child?"

"I'm really not, it works on me too. I need consistency and to feel like I'm working up towards something rewarding in order to actual do anything."

"Rewarding, how?"

"I'm glad you asked. Remember how I said that the normal stars are worth 1 point and the big ones worth 3? Well, by the end of the week if I've acquired at least 30 to 40 I get treated to an ice cream sundae on Sunday, I can only get 5 small stars per day with the exception of a big star every now and then. If I go over 30 or 40 I get extra toppings."

"That seems oddly simple." Lucifer states still looking MC up and down quizzically.

"It is!" MC exclaims pulling out a chart from behind their back. A chart large enough to fit multiple stickers on it, the chart is divided into six sections: Monday through Saturday. "Here." They hand him the chart. "You're in charge of stickers."

Dumbfounded, Lucifer takes the chart sheet in his hands. He has the passing thought 'if only my brothers were this easy.' Before dismissing it completely, knowing that there are easier things wished for.

"This will ensure you behave?" He asks once more for clarification.

MC only simply nods.

"You put it up there." MC continued pointing to the refrigerator. "so that everyone sees and I feel a sense of accomplishment."

"Are you sure you want it up there?" He asks tiredly. "Won't the others tease you?"

"Yeah, probably." MC answers matter o factly. "But you won't be buying them a fancy Sundae at the end of the week, or will you?"

"So, now I'm the one buying you ice cream? When did we agree to this?"

"I mean... I thought that was implied by you being my assigned sticker giver. Besides it's a small price to pay for my good behavior, don't you think?"

"Are you threatening me?" He asks looking up at them with a quirked eyebrow, even if so it's not like they're asking for much. He wishes his brothers asked only for the same to ensure their well behavior... but unfortunately life is not that easy.

"No." They answer with such genuinety that he almost thinks they're messing with him. "I'm just trying to make life easier for the both of us; the idea is to ease me into a new environment and eventually I won't need the stars anymore to ensure I behave. If I don't maintain consistency I let my environments shape me and that's not always a good thing but like this I keep myself in line regardless of my new environment."

"Very well, all be it for my peace of mind." Lucifer sighs pinning up the laminated sheet on the fridge.

At first the brothers do tease MC about it, but MC doesn't really seem to care all that much as they do their chores happily with the promise of ice cream in mind. Eventually the teasing stops, after all, how fun is it to tease someone who doesn't really care?

But it starts with Beel noticing, MC gets treated to a sundae from Madam Screams every Sunday that leaves him watering at the mouth. Well, now Beel wants in on the action. He asks Lucifer to do the same for him.

Lucifer doesn't really care, Beel is probably one of the most well behaved of his brothers save for when he goes on his hunger rampages or acts out because of food. He doesn't think much and accepts to do the same for Beel upon his request.

Now it's not just MC and Lucifer going out very Sunday to Madam Screams but also Beel and the fact that they're all going out in a group makes it feel somewhat exclusive... that mixed with the fact that MC has to separate from Mammon every Sundaybto go pick up their Sundae and we all know how much Mammon hates being apart from MC add into Mammon demanding that Lucifer do that same for him.

Things have just become interesting. Mammon is the brother that needs this the most in Lucifer's eyes but he doubts his brother can completely behave, regardless he doesn't stop his brother from trying after all it's to his own benefit (Lucifer's) maybe now he'll be able to get some more work and rest in.

Well the said is done, it doesn't completely work but he has noticed Mammon behaving a lot more than he usually did. Not to add that he's gotten competitive with the other two about who can earn more toppings on their sundae than the rest... even if he ends up losing every time.

Asmo is the third to fall into the trend. After all, a Sundae by Lucifer's treat and by side MC!? What could possibly be better!? Besides the game looks really fun, and now Asmo is eager to join in on the fun.

It's not like Asmo is ill behaved or boisterous in any way, so he doesn't have to make much of an effort but some times he will slip up and it's only then that he makes an effort.

Levi is the fourth to fall into this game. As always it's his envy that causes him to get involved in MC's and his brothers game, and who can blame him? I mean who likes feeling left out, right?

The following Monday during dinner he starts to pout and complain about how he isn't being included in the most indirect round about way.

"After all what did I expect, it's not like you guys would include me in your game..."

"It's not a game Levi, MC and the others have to earn their ice-cream." Lucifer clarifies putting down his eating utensils.

"You don't have to lie to me, Lucifer." Levi pouts. "Its not like I want to be included in that normie game you guys are playing anyway!"

Lucifer lets out a tired breath as he asks himself whether he really wants to deal with this right now... well, the answer is that he doesn't but he isn't going to leave his brother sulking about not being included, after all, it'll only get worse the longer he leaves him sulking.

And just like that Levi's in.

Those left are Satan and Belphegor and, of course, he doesn't expect either to willingly participate. I mean they won't obey him or behave on a regular basis, in fact it's the complete opposite; they usually go out of their way to make his life harder, so why would they participate in a game that requires them to do something that is supposed to make his life easier?

He won't bother with them, after all, he's far too busy with the work he has from Diavolo as of lately.

But then Satan surprises him by announcing that he to will join this game. Of course, Lucifer is suspicious of Satan's intentions after all why would he willingly chose to make Lucifer's life much easier?

Satan claims he just wants to feel involved, and since everyone is already doing it he might as well too.

Lucifer's on guard with Satan, he's trying to figure out what he's scheming but Satan genuinely seems to be doing what he should.

Still, Lucifer can't help but check his drawers and closet when he finds Satan leaving his room after having claimed that he was only sorting the clean laundry to its appropriate places, and he can't help not double checking his drinks, or looking over his things when Satan brings them to him.

Satan is behaving and he takes pleasure in how uneasy that makes Lucifer. The look on Lucider's face whenever Satan does something good or helpful with a smile and nothing more is priceless. Of course, it's not like Satan is going to let Lucifer get to comfortable. If Lucifer does get too comfortable Satan won't have any trouble playing a small and subtle prank on Lucifer to keep him on his toes.

Not to add that Satan does cheat regularly when participating in the game, usually playing Mammon out of his points or taking credit for his work, or using Mammon in order to enact his pranks on Lucifer so they won't get traced back to him... yep, poor Mammon.

Lastly, is Belphie. He shows the most resistance to the game, it takes to much energy and effort neither of which he cares to spare on a silly game.

But as much as he hates to admit it. He hates waking up to an empty house on Sunday; there's no Beel or MC to greet him and the fact that everyone else is also playing along with the game makes him feel excluded. It's not bad enough that he was locked up in the attic for the longest time and only came back after all the other brothers had already formed bonds with MC but even now they get to spend more time with them all because of that dumb game.

So in the end, as reluctant as he might be he announces in the most nonchalant and anticlimactic way that he too will participate in the dumb game.

Much like Satan, he'll either mooch of Mammon's points or use Mammon to get out of trouble for certain things. He'll petition Lucifer about being able to share points with either Beel or MC because that chore was a "combined effort".

In the end all the brothers end up participating, it doesn't 100% solve the occasional behavioral problems and shenanigans that occur within the house of lamentation but it does help placate them if even by a small percentage.

And it's only when he gets to sit down and breathe after a long day of paperwork and meetings that Lucifer notices what a good influence MC has been on his brothers.

Of course, by this point MC no longer needs the gold star sticker system to keep in line but at this point they don't have the heart to end the game... not when everyone has come to have fun with it so much.

#obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me #obey me shall we date #om lucifer #om leviathan #om mammon #om beelzebub #om belphegor #om satan #om asmodeus #om beel #om belphie #om asmo

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aurabird · 3 years

Text

To Seek Redemption

So this is based off of something my braincell that desires fluff came up with.

Something happens that causes the Hels!Hermits to become helpful, caring, and empathetic like their counterparts. No more hierarchy and anarchy, no more bloodshed and violence, just pure, familial energy and fluff. Basically, they all obtain morals and eventually the line between Hermit and Helsmit is no more.

This relies strongly on headcannons and things regarding Helsmit/Hermit first encounters are left vague on purpose for the reader to fill in because I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes :3

No major TWs, just mentions of violence, blood, and injuries.

==================================================

The Hels Dimension was a brutal place, an eternal battleground where anarchy was the norm and the hierarchy brutal. The denizens of this dimension said to be the worst traits of their Overworld counterparts incarnated or their best traits without any moral boundaries.

Those that lived within Hermitcraft’s Hels Dimension; Helscraft as they’d become to be called, referred to themselves as Helsmits as they sought to not only overpower each other, but also make the lives of their other halves miserable.

Of course, not every Helsmit was a monster, some were simply pranksters, simply finding enjoyment in teasing their counterparts because the reactions amused them; nuisances that just wouldn’t go away.

But, despite all of this, how would players such as the Helsmits react…when everything they knew, all the violence they partook in, just went away? Was replaced by feelings they didn’t understand or hated?

==================================================

The time-dilation known as lag was not a new concept to the denizens of Helscraft; after all, several of them used the enigmatic force as a weapon or safeguard for their territory, slowing down any would-be usurpers enough to gain an upper hand.

What WAS new, however, was that this time, lag stopped their world completely. No one moved, no one spoke; for only a few moments all was still…

…until it wasn’t.

When the world began to move again the Helsmits knew something had changed, feelings of vengeance and hatred were gone, replaced by emotions they did not understand; that some of them even despised. Empathy, compassion, the desire for familial companionship.

Those locked in combat sheathed their weapons, taking steps back from each other before apologizing. Those that kept themselves locked in impenetrable fortresses left their isolation and sought out the Helsmit nearest to them to simply talk and for comfort due to their isolation. Those that had gotten the last of their territory stolen from them had it returned.

And those that sought power within the hierarchy? Well, who said that having friends didn’t count as power?

Traps set up to kill and torment were disabled, and selfishly-hoarded resources distributed to those with few or none.

It was difficult at first to come to grasps with the sudden morals and emotions they'd acquired, for some, the phrase of “I hate being nice” became popular, being uttered by several of them defeatedly when they attempted to be anything but friendly to each other.

But eventually the Helsmits grew used to their new emotions, enjoyed them even. Sure they were all still competitive with each other, that was a trait no strange force could change, but now it was more friendly and lighthearted. Some even tried to act like the 'evil counterparts' they'd once been in a joking manner.

The Hesmits knew that things had changed, that their old ways of life were now gone.

They'd all gathered at their Town Hall, the first building they'd made since they'd all become friends, looking upon a portal with nervousness and uncertainty. Not a portal to the Nether, nor a portal to the End. No, this portal was to the Overworld.

It'd been Helskinght that discovered how to conjure the gateway, the purple swirls framed by blocks of crying obsidian. At one point this structure had been fought over and the land around it once stained crimson with Helsmit blood.

The area had been completely terraformed since then, making this location both a reminder of the past and the present. None of them had their weapons or tools, just the clothes on their backs, food, and basic building blocks. After all, they'd come here for one reason alone.

Now that they’d mended the conflicts that had once divided them, perhaps it was time to do the same with those that saw them as nothing but evil interlopers seeking to cause only destruction and misery.

Yes, it was time to ask their overworld counterparts, the Hermits, for forgiveness. The final step they'd all need to reach complete redemption.

"You think they'll accept it after everything some of us have done?" asked someone from the gathered crowd, "We've been silent for so long too, how do you think they'll react to us all coming at the same time?"

The two questions had no definite answers, as only a few Helsmits had even interacted with their overworld counterparts. Then again, those that had awful experiences no doubt spread the seeds of distrust throughout the entirety of Hermitcraft.

A Helsmit in ebony-plated armor and wearing a helmet sighed. Since the reforming of their society Helsuma had been the appointed the Admin of Helscraft, though unlike his counterpart, he lacked the powers that came with said title.

"There is only one way to find out." he said with uncertain confidence before taking his first steps through the passage, his fellow Helsmits following not far behind.

------

Their arrival on the main street of the Cowmercial District was met with mixed reactions. Fear, disdain, and confusion the most common but surprise could also be seen on the faces of some Hermits.

Those that knew their Helscraft counterparts had drawn their swords and bows, netherite blades and enchanted arrows aimed directly at them, ready to strike at the slightest sign of aggression.

It was Xisuma that broke the silent tension, his calm, accented voice holding the strength of a leader as he addressed the crowd before him. “Well, this is definitely a surprise.” he said as he took a few steps forward, taking note of the fact some of the newcomers flinched or tensed up at his advance. “I didn’t expect all of you to show up at once, let alone completely unarmed.”

The person who then walked out from the crowd of Helsmits was a surprise to the overworld Admin. Every Hermit supposedly had a counterpart of their own in Helscraft, but X hadn’t exactly been ready to meet his.

Features and attire were identical to his own, though their skin was marred with horrible scars and their black-plated armor boasted several gashes; fiery-orange eyes far more exhausted than his own violet ones shone with desperation.

“Careful, X.” Wels warned with a growl, cerulean gaze narrowed and locked with the red one of Helsknight, “They aren’t to be trusted.”

If the silver-armored knight had seen the hurt in Hels’ expression at those words, he didn’t react to it.

X ignored the given warning and faced his counterpart without fear or hesitation, “What brings you all to the Overworld like this? Clearly it isn’t an invasion.”

Helsuma spoke, his voice simply a deeper, more rough version of X’s. “We…we all…we all wish to ask forgiveness.” he struggled to say before looking behind him at his fellow Helsmits, “Those of us that you know the actions of more than others.”

“Why the change of heart?” came a Hermit’s confused but sharp tone as they gazed upon one that looked almost exactly like they did, no doubt remembering bitterly what their first meeting with their counterpart was like.

“Honestly, we have no idea.” came a voice from the Helsmits, “Everything just…stopped one day, like lag but for longer than a few seconds. After that, well, some of us noticed that we felt emotions alien to us, urges to be…friends, not enemies or rivals; to share and not take.”

“You learned what morals are? I find that hard to believe.”

At the comment Hels turned his head to Wels, arms crossed “Whether you believe it or not, if we sought to invade the overworld for malicious goals today, we would have done so already.”

Grian, surprisingly, was the one that came to the dark knight’s defense “You know, Wels, not all of them are incarnations of our evil.” he commented from his place on steps to the Town Hall. “Take Xelqua, my counterpart for example.“ he began, motioning to the Helsmit that was a splitting image of him save a pair of purple wings that sparkled with stars; the cloak around them bearing a strange symbol, “He’s the one that was mixing up the stuff in your guy’s sorting systems and renaming all your diamonds!”

Mumbo shot the man a look, “Seriously mate? You interacted on a friendly level with your counterpart as opposed to some of us and didn’t think to tell anyone of it?”

“Uh...no. Kinda slipped my mind actually.”

Scar spoke next, having spotted BadTimes in the center of the group; the skeletal vex wings protruding from their back a sign of the part of himself he’d cast away when he decided to reject the control of the chaotic fae he’d once been bound to. “Well, I for one believe in second chances.” he said with a grin, noticing the eyes of several Helsmits light up, “Sure it may take time for us to all trust each other but if they are counterparts of us and we’re Hermits, what’s to say they can’t be too?”

“Scar is right!” chimed Zedaph, “Look at Exy! He was all scary and stuff and he ended up being nice in the end!”

The streets were silent once more as Hermit and Helsmit alike looked at Xisuma, awaiting the verdict of the situation. The Admin thought hard about the dilemma he was faced with. His fellow Hermits all made good points and, when given proof, X was one to forgive.

He saw the looks in the eyes of their counterparts; fear, desperation, hope. He’d made the mistake of condemning his brother to the banvoid, and though they’d made up since then, it didn’t change the fact that he’d left Ex alone, abandoned, and scared when all the man had needed was guidance.

No, he could not simply turn them away, he couldn’t send them back to their dimension and find a way to seal them in there forever.

“I do not speak for all the Hermits, especially given the history some of you have with them.” he began, “However, I am willing to give you all a chance. Do not make me regret my decision.”

------

The rules Xisuma had applied to them were simple and the Admin had made it perfectly clear that they’d all be watched closely, both by him and the Hermits they interacted with.

For some, it was easy to befriend their counterparts, alike in many ways, yet still different enough to be their own person. Others had a more difficult time, uneasy truces and silent tension sparking between them.

But, time heals all wounds, and the line that separated Hermits and Helsmits eventually disappeared. Denizens of both the Overworld and Helscraft began to come and go between their realms freely, taking ideas and inspirations from each other, playing minigames as if they’d all been friends from the beginning.

Getting to the End was impossible from Helscraft, so the Helsmits had always secretly been baffled by the silvery wings that allowed their counterparts to fly around. With the befriending of each other, however, they were being taught through trial and error (mostly error, actually) how they worked and the freedom that came with Elytra flight.

It wasn’t uncommon now for the trio of team ZIT to be seen planning crazy ideas with their counterparts and teasing each other, unsurprisingly both Grian and Xelqua managed to start yet another war, and the silent chaos of shenanigans from Etho and his counterpart were never discovered until it was too late.

False and True could often be seen sparring, as could Wels and Hels; though the duo of knights usually did so through both physical combat and song.

Scar and Cub would be seen working on projects with their counterparts, laughing and remembering the times when they were once one in the same, but yet still glad to be their own individual players.

Bdubs and his phantom-featured counterpart would sometimes argue over who was the fastest of them to get to sleep ("And how are you faster? Last I checked beds blow up in Hels ya stupid!" "Not since X gave Helsuma Admin powers they haven't ya fool!"), though neither of them would win because someone else would sleep away the night while they bickered.

Ex had even returned from his journey of self-discovery, completely confused at first and then began pouting when he learned that he didn’t have a Helscraft counterpart of his own to cause mischief with. With a laugh, Helsuma had offered to be the counterpart of both brothers.

------

It was several months later when the two Admins stood on the roofs of their Town Halls, smiles on their faces as they overlooked the antics below them; Hermits and Helsmits alike interacting harmoniously. With the union of their respectful dimensions their families had doubled in size.

And both of them couldn’t have been any happier.

#hermitcraft au #helscraft #hels!hermits #evil hermits #fluff and angst #the helsmits are a chaotic family your honor #I'm a sucker for redeption arcs #Grian's counterpart is a gremlin like him #but has all the Watcher traits and regalia #Ex isn't from Helscraft either #he's a copy of X's code that got created by acident #he also wasn't permabanned in S6 #him and X made up and he went on a journey of self discovery #cub & scar's counterparts are parts of their souls that they split from when they decided to reject using Vex magic #like I said at the start this relies heavilly on headcannons #my writing #hermitblr

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ratisnotcrying · 3 years

Text

you’re useless

Summary: “Well, maybe if you weren’t so goddamn useless then we wouldn’t be stuck here.”

Juno hadn’t meant to say it. He didn’t even really believe it. Maybe he would have, when he was still a PI, before he had first met Peter, but he had changed so much since then. He still had bad days, but he handled them better now. He knew when he was in the wrong.

Prompt: "You're useless." from palettes-and-prompts

Pairings: background Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, background Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Ilkay

Warnings: implied child abuse, descriptions of violence, hidden injury, hurt/comfort

Word count: 2.6K

A/N: this is crossposted on ao3 - ik that repeticism isnt a word but im making it one for this fic

~~~

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so goddamn useless then we wouldn’t be stuck here.”

~~~

Rowan isn’t quite sure how they found themself on board the Carte Blanche and on the outskirts of the Aurinko crime family.

They had the typical, cliché backstory of a lone-wolf operating within the underbelly of society - a surface-perfect home life destroyed by something seemingly mundane blah blah blah, trust issues, a long line of enemies, enough friends to count on one hand, and nothing much else to show for over two decades of living.

One good thing about working alone is the need to get creative, and this is what had put them on Buddy’s radar in the first place. A few years ago, Rowan had been hired to acquire a tank of rare fish - this is about where they stopped asking questions, they didn't care as long as they got paid - and, after some very elaborate lies, an even more elaborate disguise and a rigged game of cards, they had managed to win a tank of the ugliest fish they had ever seen.

The part that caught Buddy’s attention, though, was the escape. Rowan had been found out before they had a chance to get out of the building, and had only managed to escape because they had memorised the security’s routes. It took a bit of guesswork, but they had been able to work out where the security would be coming from, found an unguarded window, clambered down a drain pipe, fish tank sloshing precariously in their bag, and landed near perfectly in a pile of rubbish bags outside the window - if you discount the broken bottle that had gouged their leg.

Buddy had picked Rowan up a few weeks after Juno and Rita, but it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, no matter how much anyone may have wanted it to be.

The problem wasn’t that Rowan couldn’t do their job - if that were the case they wouldn’t be here. No, the problem was that being thrown into close quarters with a bunch of strangers was… a lot. Especially for someone who had been alone for so long.

Rowan liked Jet well enough, he was straightforward and honest but intense; Buddy’s ‘take no shit but do no harm’ attitude aligned perfectly with her unwavering morals, and this was a welcome relief from the lies and deceit Rowan had lived with for so long. Rita and Peter were surprisingly welcoming, and Rowan formed a reluctant almost-friendship with Vespa. Juno, though. He and Rowan were too alike: fiercely independent, stubborn as a mule, and they both fell back into old habits as easily as anything.

Maybe this clash of bad habits, the deceptive comfort in being who you were, even for a moment, is how this job went so spectacularly wrong.

~~~

It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out job. Rita had taken out the security cameras, Jet was waiting in the car, and Juno was sneaking down the darkened hallways with Rowan.

“I still don’t understand why we need this goddamn painting. It looks like a baby threw up crayons and then just threw up on a canvas.”

“I’ve just eaten, Juno, shush if you don’t want me to throw up too.”

“Rowan, darling, please do not do that - this painting is priceless and highly sought after, which is why, Juno, we need to swap this for the information August Reid is refusing to give us. I did mention this in our family meeting before you left.”

Vespa’s aggravated voice piped up in the background of Buddy’s comms, “He was too busy swooning all over Ransom to pay attention.”

~~~

They had gotten the painting easily, so it was just a matter of getting out again. Rowan had been tasked with studying the guards’ shift patterns and routes, and had had no problem getting them in. Apparently, their luck couldn't hold.

They crept forwards, leading Juno left, right, left again, ducking this way and that to avoid the, quite frankly excessive, number of guards patrolling the halls. And that’s when it happened.

Rowan ducked right around a corner into another corridor, one that was supposed to be empty for another six minutes at least and there, at the other end, was a guard. A guard who was looking right at them.

“Crap.”

“What? Rowan we need to kee- crap.”

Both of their comms beeped, Buddy asking them questions with thinly veiled panic in her voice, but neither of them answered, stood frozen, eyes locked with the guard. Then all hell broke loose.

Everyone took out their guns and bullets started flying, the guard was shouting and footsteps could be heard thundering closer from all directions.

A tidal wave of de ja vu crashed over Rowan, “Fuck, this way,” they shouted, turning to run, voice tinged with something Juno didn’t have time to decipher, but Juno grabbed their sleeve and dragged them in the opposite direction.

“Hell no. You are done giving directions, I am not letting you get me killed here.”

They ran back the way they had come, and Juno skidded to a stop in front of a storage cupboard.

“Get in, quickly. There’s a vent at the top we need to get through. Do you think you can manage that?”

Rowan wasn't sure - there was a searing pain in their side that sent shocks of nausea through them with each breath and black dots into their vision with each movement. But this was their fault - they had failed at the one job they had - the one thing they were supposed to be able to do, they got themself shot and had put Juno in danger. They did not need to hold the job up any longer - they just had to get out of here and they could deal with the shot later.

It was a tight squeeze, both of them were crammed awkwardly into the vents, waiting for Rita to work out where they were so she could guide them out.

“Christ, it’s cramped in here - my side is killing me.” Rowan muttered to themself.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so goddamn useless then we wouldn’t be stuck here.”

Everything seemed to shift and sharpen, Rowan suddenly violently aware of everything around them whilst simultaneously being blurred by memories they had tried so hard to bury: Juno was trying to listen and see if they had been found, there was shouting from down the hall, the smell of musty metal was almost overwhelming and Rowan jerked as if physically struck by Juno’s words, completely at a loss for what to say. Luckily, Rita, who had been on the comms, was not quite as speechless.

“Mistah Steel! That is a horrible thing to say, how could you-”

“Goddamnit Rita, I don't have time for this - how they hell do we get out of here?”

~~~

Jet was still outside with the car, and took off at break-neck speed as soon as the doors were shut. Juno sat in the front seat, the painting on his lap, talking to Buddy about something, and Rowan was slouched in the back, trying to cover up the fact that their organs were about to fall out. Well, that was an exaggeration. Probably. Just to be safe they grabbed a jacket they had left in the car weeks ago and slipped it on, wrapping it tightly around themself to try and hide the blood and hopefully-not-organs.

Juno had gotten a bit banged up in the vents, so when they arrived back at the Carte Blanche he went straight to the medical bay to meet Buddy with the painting and then to get checked.

“Rowan, it is recommended that you also get checked out. You look very ill,” Jet said as Rowan turned away from the medical bay and towards their room.

“No worries, Jet, I just want to get changed first - these clothes are filthy.”

~~~

“It was a mistake, darling, the best of us make them.”

“Yeah, well, it ws a stupid mistake - all they had to do was make sure they knew where the guards would be and then make sure we weren’t there!”

Vespa growled at Juno, who was gesticulating wildly whilst she was trying to wrap a bandage around his arm.

“Juno, I don’t care if Rowan walked straight up to that guard and told him why you were there - we are a family, and you will not speak to any member of this family like that.”

“That’s another thing - I get why everyone is here except Rowan - you said it was some daring escape that brought them here, but after today’s performance… what exactly do they bring to the table?”

“I’m going to leave that for you to work out, Juno.” Buddy said tersely.

He deflated a little, head tipping back to stare at the ceiling. Goddamnit.

“Are we about done here, Vespa, I’ve got places to be.”

~~~

Rowan would quite like a stiff drink right about now. Partially to actually drink, but mainly because they had run out of steriliser and this wound was definitely going to get infected and it would be this whole thing and they would get ill and-

“Get it together, Rowan.” They hissed, pulling out a sterile needle and taking a deep breath as they began to stitch themself up. This was not the first time, and likely wouldn’t be the last, that Rowan has had to do this - working alone and working recklessly meant most jobs ended with soft pink staining bandages and staining baths, throat and skin burning from cheap whiskey. Tonight didn’t have to be different.

The shot had skimmed their side so, luckily, no organs were falling out, but it was still going to be a bitch to heal, likely would be ripped open a few times and leave a nasty scar. This, unfortunately, was also not uncommon.

The painful repeticism of the needle going in and out lulled Rowan into a violent comfort they tried to avoid, the panicked calm soothing them until they couldn't quite hold back the memories they had been reminded of earlier.

Raised voices, gritted teeth and finger shaped bruises. Running, up stairs, through doors, arou-

There was a knock at their door. They flinched, snapping back to reality.

“Rowan, it’s Juno. Can I- can we talk?”

They almost said yes, just called Juno in like nothing was wrong. Then their brain kicked it’s way through the fog and realised they were sitting in bloody trousers, half stitched up wound and thread fully exposed to anyone who might walk in.

“Rowan?”

They picked up the shirt closest to them - part of a matching pyjama set - and tried to tuck the needle away so they could carry on when Juno was gone, and threw the door open.

“Sorry, I was just getting changed. Just sit anywhere.” They mumbled, haphazardly shoving piles of washing off of a chair.

“Thanks. Listen, about earlier, I know that you didn’t mean for that to happen. It’s been a rough week, not that that’s an excuse for what I said- are you alright?”

Rowan had half-sat, half-fallen back onto their seat on the bed and was focusing very hard on not fainting, so much so that they couldn’t really understand what Juno was saying. Maybe this wound was worse than they had thought. They nodded and hoped for the best.

“Right… Anyways, what I actually came to say is that I'm sorry I called you useless. You made a mistake, no one died, well I don’t think anyone died. Whatever, it couldn’t have been avoided. I know that I can be abrasive,” he said with a look that meant he had been told this many, many times before, “but that doesn’t mean that- Rowan, you really look like crap.”

“Wow, thanks, Juno, you say the sweetest things,” they took a deep breath and tried not to panic at the fact that they couldn’t really feel most of their torso anymore, “I know you didn’t mean it, we’re fine. Stop looking at me like that, I’m fine, I just need a nap.” The last words were pointed, hinting sharply at Juno to leave.

“Yeah, because slurred speech and sweating and shaking all scream ‘I’m fine’,” he paused for a moment and Rowan could almost see the cogs whirring, piecing together the information - bullets flying, the unidentified something in Rowan’s voice, the jacket they hadn’t been wearing before, the sterile wrappers on the bed… Then the last piece clicked into place, “Rowan, is that blood?”

They looked down at their top - their white pyjama top - as their vision began to fade out, their head too heavy to hold up and mouth too numb to speak, “No-”

~~~

When they came to, they were in the medical wing wearing a loose sleep shirt - distinctly not soaked in blood - and shorts. They tried to get up and go but a not-so-gentle hand pushed them back to lying down.

“Goddamnit, stop moving. You’ve already ripped your stitches once and you weren’t even awake,” Vespa growled, fussing with the bandages wrapped tight around Rowan’s middle.

“Sorry, I’ve always been lively in bed.”

“That’s cute, darling. What’s not cute is the stunt you pulled last night - if Juno hadn’t come to see you when he did... “ An uncomfortable look passed over Buddy’s face, “Let’s not dwell on that. I will want to talk about this later, but, for now, somebody else wants to see you.”

“Great,” Rowan tried to get up again, “Where are they?”

“Nice try, tough guy, but you’re staying right here until mean old Vespa lets you out.”

“Bite me, Steel.”

“No, thanks, I think I'll leave that to-” He cut himself off at Buddy's warning glance and didn't speak again until Buddy and Vespa had both left the room.

Rowan glanced at the bandage wrapped around Juno’s bicep, “Is it bad?”

“No, just a flesh wound, unlike that one you’re sporting - what was the plan? Stitch it up and hope you didn't drop dead in the middle of the next job?”

“Something like that.”

“Goddamnit. Okay, I don't know how much of what I said yesterday you heard but I'm sorry for what I said. I know we don't really… get along, but you remind me of,” he sighed, “You remind me of someone I used to know.”

“Juno, I really don't need a pep talk.”

“Well, here's the thing - you absolutely do because this,” he gestured to the bandages and the bed, “can’t happen again. You can't see that we care about you - you wouldn't be here if Buddy didn't think you were worth something and Rita is the best judge of character I know; she thinks you’re great. You have a goddamn family here, Rowan, stop trying to push us out.”

Rowan sighed, and Juno graciously didn't mention the tears in their eyes. “I don't know how to-” Rowan shook their head.

“We aren't going anywhere, Rowan, I know that's not what you want to hear but I don't care. For right now you need to stay here and stop ripping out your stitches. Take care of yourself for once. Then we can work on whatever complexes you’re holding onto so tight.” Juno said, squeezing Rowan’s shoulder as he stood.

Rowan didn’t say anything till he was half-way out the door, “Hey, Juno? Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

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sachigram · 3 years

Text

With Teeth Chapter 4

((click here to read on ao3!))

The next few days pass by normally for Shizuo. He's been making more of an effort to be social, doesn't want to make his friends feel left out of his life. He could see how it hurt them before when he pushed them away. As a result, he has more things to do, and he feels better than he has in ages.

Tonight, he's sitting across from Tom, next to Vorona. They're all having drinks to celebrate a successful week at work, and Shizuo is looking forward to the weekend. He doesn't have any plans on his off days, but he likes not having to worry about tracking down some low-life, even if he's only free of it two days a week.

“Any plans this weekend?” Tom asks them both. He's flushed, clearly tipsy already. Shizuo has a high tolerance, and he's pretty sure Vorona does too, because she's drinking faster than either of them, and she seems perfectly sober.

“Negative,” Vorona replies while Shizuo merely shakes his head. “I may go to the bookstore tomorrow.”

“Your checks all go to books,” Tom says. “You should live a little.”

“To acquire knowledge is life's goal.”

Tom looks from her to Shizuo and raises his eyebrows. Immediately, Shizuo feels like Tom is about to do something stupid.

“Why don't the two of you hang out together? Since neither of you have plans.” Tom sips his drink, a smug look of satisfaction on his face. Shizuo's blood boils.

“I—“ he starts, but is interrupted when Vorona speaks.

“That would be nice.”

“Huh?” Shizuo asks, turning to face her. She's looking at him with her usual indifferent gaze, not the least bit affronted by the idea.

“If it would be agreeable for Shizuo-senpai, I see no reason we cannot meet tomorrow,” Vorona says, and she tosses back the rest of her drink. It's straight gin, no mixer, no rocks, but she doesn't even flinch. Just the smell of it has been burning Shizuo's nose.

“Oh, um. If you want to,” Shizuo says, unsure of what's even happening.

“So it's a date then,” Tom announces, and he goes to get them all more drinks.

***

“You shouldn't have done that,” Shizuo grumbles later, after Vorona has split away from them to go catch her train. “You made her feel like she had to agree.”

“Shizuo, come on, man. How do you miss the way she looks at you? She's had a thing for you since she started working with us.” Tom is stumbling a bit as he walks, and Shizuo considers letting him face-plant if he falls.

“She does not. And even if she did, what the hell am I supposed to do about it?”

Tom looks up at Shizuo, giving him such an incredulous look that it's almost reminisce of the way the flea looks at him.

“What are you supposed to do about it?” Tom repeats, and then he laughs. “Oh, my god. You're killing me.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean. I'm not someone that anyone should have a thing for. I'm dangerous, and it's only gotten worse.” Shizuo looks up at the sky, sees the lights of airplanes flying overhead. “I don't want to hurt her.”

“You don't hurt people who don't deserve it,” Tom replies, and Shizuo thinks of that strange dream he had before, the one where Izaya was there, seeing his worst memory. “Give yourself some credit, would you? Have fun. Try to be happy.”

“I am trying. This is a bad idea.”

“Well, too late now. If you stand her up, you really will be an asshole,” Tom says, and then he falls on his face. Shizuo makes no move to help him up.

Shizuo doesn't sleep that night. He's too anxious about his “date” with Vorona, has no idea what they'll do or what they'll talk about. He's tried before to think of himself as the kind of guy who would be lucky enough to have a pretty girl on his arm, but it's always too much of a fantasy, something unattainable and pointless to hope for. Vorona is strong, and she's seen him fight, knows what he's capable of, but it's different to behold someone dangerous from the sidelines and then up close, when it's turned on you. He imagines her look of indifference changing to real fear when he lunges at her, and he doesn't realize until he's waking up that he actually managed to slip into unconsciousness.

“Fuck.” He gets up from the bed, moving to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He's terrified of what will come, of what he is. More than anything, he's sick of being so terrified. His reflection is older, maybe wiser, but all Shizuo can see is that same snotty kid who hurt someone he wanted to protect once.

***

He meets Vorona at the train station. She's dressed the same as she always is, and he's grateful she didn't do anything different in her routine for his sake. She lifts a hand in greeting, studying his face.

“You appear tired,” she says.

“Yeah. Didn't sleep well last night. Sorry.”

“No apology necessary. Perhaps we could get coffee first, both wake up a little more.”

As it turns out, following Vorona around isn't too different from trailing after Tom. She doesn't talk nearly as much, but she doesn't seem to mind taking the lead, and she doesn't take his silence as disinterest. They wind up going to the bookstore Vorona mentioned, grabbing coffee from a little kiosk outside before wandering the aisles. Vorona picks up a book every now and then, explains it to Shizuo in a way he can understand without being pretentious about it, and he finds that he's actually enjoying himself.

After Vorona purchases some new books, they make their way down the street to a restaurant she says she's been wanting to try. This is the part Shizuo was worried about, having to sit alone with her and have her realize he's got absolutely nothing interesting to say, but they manage to keep the conversation going. It's easier than Shizuo expected, and he finds himself thinking he should thank Tom later for setting this up.

“You seem happier than before,” Vorona says when they're walking out of the restaurant. “You were so quiet for so long.”

Shizuo opens his mouth to ask what she means, but he thinks he knows. He was feeling sorry for himself after the bite, wanted to keep everyone out, pushed them away. He is happier now than he was then, but he's still a coward, and he's still scared of anyone learning his secret.

“I'm better now,” he says, feeling that it's true.

“I am very glad,” she replies, and she gives him a rare smile.

That night, as Shizuo walks home after escorting Vorona to the train station, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket.

“Yo,” he says, picking up the call.

“How did it go?” Tom asks.

“It was...nice,” Shizuo says. He can practically feel Tom's frustrations through the phone.

“Nice? That's not telling me anything!”

“We had a good time. It was much better than I thought it would be.”

“I guess that's all I'm going to get from you. Either way, I'm glad. I think you'll both be good for each other.”

“Yeah,” Shizuo replies. For the first time in his life, he can picture a girl on his arm. “Me too.”

***

The days that follow are slow, but enjoyable. Shizuo goes to work, hangs out with Tom and Vorona, makes plans to spend time with Vorona again on the upcoming weekend. He's almost able to forget all about his ailment, and the bullshit alliance he has with Izaya, who has been silent since storming out of his place the morning after the full moon. Shizuo will have to see him soon so he can stock back up on his potion, and he's not looking forward to it. Part of him worries what Izaya might do if he learns Shizuo is dating Vorona. Izaya wants to ruin every good thing in Shizuo's life. There's no way he wouldn't interfere.

Still, Shizuo is enjoying his period of peace. He's able to sidestep his involuntary entanglement with the other world, with Izaya. He's enjoying feeling like himself again, whoever that may be.

Friday night, before his date with Vorona on Saturday, he's able to find sleep easily, but it doesn't feel like sleeping. He closes his eyes in his room, opens them somewhere else. He hears the sounds of crying, of screaming, and while he should move away from it, he finds himself moving closer. There's a familiar scene before him, one of himself standing in front of a small boy cowering in a corner while two toddlers scream in their cribs. It feels like he's been here before, but he can't place why, not until the small boy looks up at him.

“Izaya,” Shizuo breathes. He doesn't know his own age here, but he can see how small Izaya is, how scared. It's unsettling. Shizuo has never seen fear on Izaya's face before.

“Who are you?” Izaya asks him, looking up at him with wonder.

“You don't know me?” Shizuo asks in disbelief. Izaya has his webs of deceit stretched over everything, over everyone, so time and space probably mean nothing to him either. But when Izaya shakes his head, Shizuo finds he instantly believes him.

“Am I dreaming?” Izaya looks around. “Are you a vision? You're not a ghost, right?”

“No,” Shizuo says. “I'm dreaming. I don't know what the fuck you're doing. You're a witch, right? You've gotta be the one doing something.”

Izaya flinches at the word “witch”, and he looks nervously around himself before looking back up at Shizuo.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Shizuo snaps, and Izaya flinches even more. Shizuo feels concern for the kid in front of him, even knowing who he is, or at least who he'll grow up to be. Is this real? It's not real; it can't be real. It's a dream, one of those lucid dreams he's heard about. He'll ask Shinra about it later.

“Your mind is loud,” Izaya says, and he stands up, padding across the floor to stand in front of Shizuo. How is the flea so tall? He's a small kid, can't be more than twelve if the twins are still toddlers, but Shizuo is looking in Izaya's eyes. Izaya snorts, amused. “I'm not tall. You're the same height as me.”

Shizuo looks down at himself, realizes he's a kid here, too, but with all his memories of the future. He looks back at Izaya, dubious of him, and the amusement drains from Izaya's face.

“You really don't like me,” Izaya says, and he fidgets.

“You ruined my life,” Shizuo spits. “Or you will, anyway.”

“Oh.” Izaya's voice is small. “I've sensed terrible things to come in the future. Things for myself, especially, but I don't know how to stop any of it. I don't think it can be stopped.”

“The future is shitty already, but you make it worse. You enjoy making people suffer. The Izaya I know is—“ Shizuo stops himself, realizes he was yelling. Izaya seems terrified of him, but also curious, his eyes shining even in the darkness of the room.

“You're the realest vision I've ever had,” Izaya says. “I hope I remember you. I forget them sometimes when they're over.” The lights of the room begin flickering on and off, and Izaya puts his hands over his ears. “Go away!” he shouts towards the corner of the room.

“What's happening? Who's doing this?” Shizuo asks, feeling like he should protect this child version of his greatest enemy. The Izaya before him is just a kid, and Shizuo doesn't know how or why, but he can feel how incredibly lonely Izaya is.

“A ghost,” Izaya replies, and he narrows his eyes at Shizuo as if daring him to argue. “I see them all the time, and they want me to help them, but I don't know how. They won't listen to me when I say that.”

“Where are your parents?”

Izaya shrugs, and Shizuo feels rage boiling inside him. He remembers hearing from Shinra once that Izaya's parents were never around, that Izaya raised the twins practically on his own. Mairu and Kururi are weird, certainly, and Shizuo isn't fond of the idea of letting them anywhere near his own brother, but he think they're good kids, all things considered, especially if this is how they were raised.

“My grandparents are around,” Izaya says, seeming to read Shizuo's thoughts. “Or, they will be tomorrow. They already came by today to bring food.”

“That's so fucked up,” Shizuo blurts, and to his surprise, Izaya smiles.

“My parents aren't bad people. They're incredibly busy, and they weren't expecting to have more kids.” Izaya looks to the the twins, who are watching him, still warbling even though the lights have stopped flickering for now. Their little hands are reaching towards him through the bars of their cribs. “As for my grandparents, they're not in great health. They can't do much to help aside from cooking and checking in every now and then.”

“Sounds like a lot of excuses,” Shizuo says, thinking of his own family. His mother never even wanted to leave their family overnight, much less weeks, months at a time. Izaya shrugs again.

“Maybe so. It doesn't matter much to me anymore. They never listened to me even when they were here.” Izaya studies Shizuo for a moment. “Your mind is—“

“Loud, yeah. You keep saying that.”

“It's more than that! It's like static and whirlwind mixed together. I can feel you wanting me out of your head, but you keep letting me back in, pulling me in, really. It's like you want me to hear you.”

“I don't,” Shizuo says flatly. “How are you doing any of this, anyway? I'm not anywhere near you in the present right now. Why are we sharing the same dream?”

“How should I know? I was born with this power, but I don't know how to use it all yet,” Izaya says, and Shizuo frowns at him, wants to bring up the future and all the terrible things Izaya will do once he does master his stupid power, but it would be pointless. This Izaya has no idea of the future, probably isn't even real. This is a dream, probably, Shizuo's brain attempting to humanize the flea.

“You called me a witch,” Izaya murmurs, more to himself than to Shizuo.

“That's what you call yourself,” Shizuo says.

“I've never had a word for it before. I just knew I was...different. People romanticize it, you know, being different from everyone else. Standing out. Maybe for a while, it was fun. But lately I'm like an island in myself, and every day the distance to the mainland grows.” Izaya pauses, as if hearing himself say so out loud is illuminating in some way. “I'm being dramatic, aren't I? I didn't mean to say any of that.”

“I know what you mean,” Shizuo finds himself saying. He doesn't elaborate, but he doesn't really have to. He can feel Izaya in his head, like a prickle on the edges of his subconscious.

“Why aren't we friends?” Izaya asks, and the question is so earnest, so innocent, that Shizuo finds himself bolting upright in his bed, jerked back into wakefulness.

“Fuck these fucking dreams,” he hisses, rolling over to check his phone. It's a little after seven in the morning, an hour before his alarm was set to go off. He's already got a message from Vorona, telling him she's looking forward to their outing.

He doesn't know why he can't get Izaya's face out of his mind.

***

Shizuo's second date with Vorona goes well.

They meet at Sunshine 60, have some drinks with their food. Conversation comes easier this time, and there's hardly any silence between them. While they walk, Shizuo finds her hand in his, and he doesn't hate it. Her hand is soft, but not too soft. She has the same callused hands he does, and it reminds him that she can take care of herself, that she can handle him, so long as he's careful to remain human around her.

He drank enough to have a little bit of a buzz going as they make their way up towards the observatory. Vorona says she hasn't seen it yet, and wants to. It reminds Shizuo that this is the sort of thing people who visit Ikebukuro find exciting, while it remains mundane to the locals. He trails after her as they walk, and he doesn't know why he notices a familiar face off to the side, outside a comic book store, but he does notice, and he stops in his tracks. Vorona looks up at him questioningly.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Hey, I'll meet you up there. I need to ask someone something really quick.”

Vorona studies him. “Affirmative. I will go on ahead.”

Shizuo watches her go for a moment, and then he turns back to the comic book store, making his way through the crowd. A redheaded man is leaning against the building, his arms crossed. He grins up at Shizuo when he notices his approach.

“Well, well. Heiwajima Shizuo. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I don't remember your name,” Shizuo says bluntly, and the man laughs.

“Yeah, why would you? I'm sure you've got more pressing things to manage these days. You can call me Akabayashi, if you bother to remember it.”

Shizuo recognizes him from all that shit with Akane. Akabayashi also was there with the twins that day at the dojo, Vorona's first day of work.

“You know, don't you?” Shizuo asks, keeping his voice low. Akabayashi raises an eyebrow.

“You'll have to be more specific.”

“Cut the shit. You know what I am, and you know who did it. I wanna know why.”

“Well, let's see,” Akabayashi says, scratching his chin. “As I recall, you don't keep your head down much. In fact, you've gotten involved in plenty of things you shouldn't have been. You know that already, so your pressing question really is who, isn't it?”

“I already know Izaya ordered it. I wanna know who it was that did the dirty work.” Shizuo glowers at Akabayashi, hating how amused the man seems. He's not scared of Shizuo in the least. It's refreshing, but it's also irritating.

“Don't make assumptions that we take orders from the likes of that brat. Anyway, yeah, I know who did it, and so would you, if you saw him. He's laying low for now, under orders. I can't give you a name. You understand.”

“Bullshit, I do!” Shizuo snaps, and he lifts Akabayashi up by the collar of his suit. “Give me a name, dammit! It's the least you fuckers can do after you all stood back and let me turn into this— thing!”

“This is the problem with youngsters like you. You're too emotional. It's okay, kid, I was like that before, too, but this city has a way of beating passion right out of you.” Akabayashi doesn't seems concerned at all, even as his feet dangle. In fact, he looks like he's having a blast. “You'll know in due time. A little patience would do you good.”

“It's been seven months,” Shizuo says, offended at the idea he hasn't been too patient already.

“And? What do you want, a medal?”

“You fucker—“

“They had it! They really had it!” A small, excited voice says, and Shizuo finds himself looking down into the wide eyes of Awakusu Akane. She's carrying a bag from the store, clearly over the moon about her purchase.

“I'm glad,” Akabayashi says. “You can tell me all about that story of yours while we get lunch.”

“Shizuo-san...” Akane whimpers, and Shizuo releases Akabayashi. “You're not here to fight, right?”

“I was thinking about it,” Shizuo admits, “but I decided against it.”

“I'm not ready to fight you yet!” Akane says, her voice more determined now. “But I will be! I'm trying extra hard at the dojo, and I can challenge you soon!”

“I look forward to it. Just don't work too hard, okay? Getting strong means taking it easy sometimes, too,” Shizuo says, putting a hand on her head.

“Right! I'll do my best!”

“Anything else, or can I take the little miss to our lunch date?” Akabayashi asks, and Shizuo glares at him.

“I'll ask you again later.”

“Go for it! Maybe I'll give you an answer. Maybe you could ask that information broker friend of yours, too.” Akabayashi turns on his heel, pulling Akane along with him with one hand, his cane in the other. “Or then again, steer clear of that one. He's not right in the head.”

“Bye, Shizuo-san!”

Shizuo growls after them, and then he goes to meet Vorona. Akabayashi was right; Shizuo does have more pressing things to worry about.

***

After parting ways with Vorona at the train station again, Shizuo considers going to see Shinra and asking about the dreams he's been having, but he decides he'll do it later. He had a good day, and he doesn't want Shinra dampening it with his overstepping. Especially while Shizuo has something else even more terrible to deal with.

He knocks, and it takes a few moments for the door to open. Finally, an irate brunette appears, glaring at Shizuo.

“What do you want now?” she asks, and her voice sounds accusatory, as if Shizuo is interrupting more than just her current peace.

“I'm here to see Izaya,” Shizuo says, and she rolls her eyes.

“I didn't think you were here for anything else. Come in, I guess.” She steps to the side, allowing Shizuo inside. He doesn't see Izaya anywhere.

“He left something for you,” she says, moving to the corner. She emerges with a large box in her arms, and she shuffles towards Shizuo, letting him take it from her. “He said he knew you were coming, and that he didn't want to see you.”

“Of course,” Shizuo spits, taking the box that's filled with his potions. He doesn't know why he expected to see Izaya here, why he's disappointed he didn't.

“Please tell me you didn't give him anything to use against you,” the woman says. Shizuo frowns at her.

“What was your name again?” he asks.

“Is that really relevant? I'm your mortal enemy's secretary, and I also hate him. Watching him be angry about you is one of my few joys in life.”

“That's pathetic,” Shizuo says, feeling a vindictive sort of satisfaction when her lip curls at him.

“I wasn't looking for your approval. Answer my question.”

“Where is Izaya?” Shizuo asks, bypassing her and her scrutiny.

“Does it matter? Out. I thought you'd be happy. Now answer me, dammit. What's he holding over your head? Is it worth seeing him so frequently? To my understanding, the two of you only crossed paths before by accident, and it was always antagonistic.”

“If you hate him so much, you shouldn't work for him,” Shizuo snaps, disliking her and her unwanted insight into his life. “You seem capable enough to handle yourself. What do you need him for?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says flatly, and he scoffs.

“Yeah? Well, I asked you first. The thing is, we both know what we're getting from him, right? And neither of us feel the need to share it with anyone else.”

“Whatever. Sue me for wondering. I won't take pity on you again.”

Shizuo is all but shoved from the apartment, the box of potion vials in his arms. He doesn't like anything about the way he feels, but he trudges home, his stomach in knots the entire way. Not seeing Izaya feels like an omen of sorts, like a harbinger of things to come.

***

He dreams later, first of nothing, and then of that same room, of the twins screaming in their cribs, and Izaya crying out in fear. It seems like the slate has been wiped clean, like this version of Izaya never spoke to any version of Shizuo. But that's accurate, isn't it? This is all pretend. It's all just a dream.

“Why do you keep coming back here?” Izaya's voice asks, and when Shizuo meets his eyes, it's the present version of Izaya. He's standing in the corner, right beside his past self, who doesn't seem to be able to see either of them now.

“I don't know,” Shizuo says. He's not a kid this time. He's towering over Izaya, but of course Izaya isn't backing down. “How are you doing this?”

“Me?” Izaya asks, incredulous. “How am I doing what? You're the one spying on my past.”

“I'm not the one with magic!” Shizuo roars. “Don't act like I'm invading your privacy, not when you're the one who's always linking us. It's not my fault that it goes both ways.”

Izaya pales, as if this thought only just occurred to him. He recovers quickly, schooling his features, turning away from Shizuo in a show of nonchalance.

“You got what you wanted from me. You got your potions, the ones that keep you so fucking tame—“

“Who are you to tell me what I want?” Shizuo interjects. “I never wanted to deal with you at all, especially so frequently. And even then, you couldn't leave well enough alone, right? You had to start haunting my dreams, too.”

When their eyes meet again, Shizuo is filled with a sudden onslaught of understanding, thoughts he knows aren't his own. Izaya isn't doing this on purpose, doesn't know how it keeps happening, doesn't like it any more than Shizuo does. Shizuo's mind is almost impossible for Izaya to pull away from, like a black hole, and even with Izaya trying to pull back, Shizuo doesn't seem to be allowing it. In fact, Shizuo is strengthening the link by being here, by interacting with Izaya's past. He's the one pulling Izaya in, like a child in desperate need of company.

“That's not true,” Shizuo growls, not appreciating Izaya's comparison. He can't help looking over to the younger version of Izaya, who is still crying pitifully. Shizuo feels the need to protect him from his future self's callous words, too, even if he can't seem to hear anything other than the twins and the ghost terrorizing them.

“In case you haven't noticed, I have been leaving you alone. I'm incredibly busy, and every time I actually manage to sleep, here you are, poking around. Snooping. Don't you have better things to do, like entertain that Matryoshka doll of yours?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo whirls back to face him, his mouth a twisted snarl of rage.

“Don't you fucking talk to me about her.”

“Don't talk to me at all. Get the fuck out!” Izaya shouts, and the door behind Shizuo opens. He's yanked backwards by an incredible force, and he falls through the doorway. He keeps falling through black nothingness, images flashing before his eyes as he does, memories he knows aren't his own. He tries to grab onto them, tries to make sense of any of them, but he can't. They're gone as soon as they appear.

Right before he hits whatever ground is below, he jerks awake, finds he's twisted himself into his sheets and managed to topple over into the floor. Cursing, he untangles himself, and he thinks back to the dream, at least, the parts of it he can remember. The image of a young, nervous Izaya talking to older men in fine suits is at the forefront of his mind.

Miles away, he knows Izaya is awake, too.

#with teeth fic #shizaya #Shizuo Heiwajima #Izaya Orihara #werewolf shizuo #witchy izaya

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