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oomisluvr · 3 years

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sakusa takes care of a drunk reader, a drabble

synopsis: y/n is talking to a stranger about her sex life and kiyoomi is on damage control. it's an uphill battle to finally tuck her into bed. give this man a break, please.

“he be blowin’ my back out, girl.”

“she means we very gently and very passionately make love.”

“just beatin’ this pussy up!”

“i do no such thing.”

“absolutely drillin’ and killin’ my shit.” you motion with your hands. sakusa reaches out to stop you, a blush deep on his face.

“y/n.”

“this boy folds me like a pretzel.”

“y/n!”

“my ankles be touchin’ my ea- mmph!”

sakusa covers your mouth with his hand, “you’ve lost your talking privileges. give me your drink, babe,” you glare at him, defiance burning in your eyes. he glares right back, “now, y/n.” he looks to the woman you were talking and apologizes on your behalf.

you relent, releasing your grip on the drink you were holding. sakusa take it and relaxes the hold he has on you, "you always kill my fun, omi!"

"no, i keep you safe." his gaze softens and his voice follows, "c'mon, it's late now. let's get you home."

you're surprised by the gentleness in his tone. wordless, you nod, extending your arm for him to take and lead you out of the club. it's raining tonight, and sakusa all but demands you to stay at the entrance doors while he runs to get the car.

you'll get emotional if you think about it too much, about exactly how much he sacrifices for you. he accommodates for you in every aspect of his life, oftentimes without you ever having to ask. you're part of him, an extension of his own body. he quite literally could not live without you. he loves you, with everything in him. he really didn't have to come out with you tonight, but you know he did it because he cares about your safety.

when the car pulls up, sakusa jumps out, umbrella in hand, escorting you to the passenger door, opening it, and closing it once you got situated. you giggle at the little jog he does to get to the driver's side. the sound of rain hitting the windshield makes you sleepy. upon noticing your tired state, kiyoomi removes the jacket from his shoulders, draping it across your figure. you yawn, snuggling into the heavy fabric and allowing his scent to lull you to sleep.

the next time you wake up, sakusa's at the passenger side of the door, lightly shaking you.

"c'mon, we're home now." he stretches his hand to pull you out, closing the door behind him, and snaking an arm around your waste, bringing you to your shared apartment.

after fumbling with the keys, he unlocks the door and kicks off his shoes, turning the lights on. sakusa leads you to the couch, descending on one knee to remove your heels, fighting with the straps and buckles.

"try taking it off with your teeth."

"try tak- what the hell? i'm not doing that."

"awww, c'mon, you know you like my feet."

"y/n, stop being weird," you wiggle your toes, making him loose his grip on the clasp of your shoes, "and stop moving."

you giggle, still feeling buzzed from all the alcohol you downed, "i know you secretly have a foot kink."

"i do not."

"it's okay, it's okay," you soothe, roughly ruffling his hair, "it's just me and you here. you can tell me if you wanna suck on my toes. i won't judge," finally removing your shoes, sakusa stands to his feet, stretching his hand for you to take.

"i don't know where you're getting this from, but you need to go to bed. i think you're delirious." you pout like a child, not wanting the fun to be over.

"fine. only if you carry me." you flop back on the couch to emphasize your unwillingness to walk yourself, stretching your arms up, "please, oomi?"

you're so cute, but sakusa can't let you know that. huffing loudly, he bends down to pick you up with ease, arms hooked under your legs and back, "you owe me in the morning. i didn't sign up for this."

you giggle, enjoying the attention from him, "you're so strong, oomi. look at these muscles." you grab his bicep, "what is this? a bowling ball? is there bowling ball in here? did you eat a bowling ball?" sakusa fights back a smile, but a blush manages to break through.

strolling through the bedroom, sakusa drops you on the bed, leaning down to kiss your forehead, mumbling in your ear, "why are you only nice to me when you're drunk, hmm? pretty girl." leaving you on the bed, sakusa digs through your dresser, approaching you with your usual pajamas, "put this on."

"no." you resist.

"y/n."

"put them on me." you kneel up on the bed, manipulating your arms and back to reach the zipper of your dress, dragging it down and shimmying out of the loose fabric, "look, i made it easy for you."

sakusa will never get used to seeing you in just a bra and panties, and his face turns beet red at the sight. you're sitting on your thighs now, legs folded behind you, feet touching.

"you're so difficult," he sighs, his blush only deepening when he moves to touch you, "arms up." you giggle, shaking your head and crossing your arms, he clenches his jaw in an effort to focus on the task at hand.

"oomi~" you flirt, "i still have my bra on. i can't sleep with a bra on. it's not good for me."

"then take it off."

"take it off for me."

"y/n."

"i won't go to bed until you do."

"fine. turn around." you shuffle on the bed, your back now facing him. with anxious hands, he unclasps your bra, the soft fabric falling to the bed. your bare back greets him, and he bats away impure thoughts. before you can turn around, sakusa grabs your arms and forces the shirt on you.

"oomi! don't be so rough."

"then listen and i won’t have to be so rough,” yanking the shirt over your head, he sighs, “there. all done.” you’re scrambling to get under the covers when sakusa grabs your ankle, “not yet. you need to do your skin care,” you open your mouth to protest, but kiyoomi interupts you, “let me guess, you want me to do it?”

you nod your head in excitement, “carry me oomi!” scooping you up, he carries you to the bathroom, setting you on the counter space. you’re rambling about god-knows-what, incoherent and broken sentences flow from your lips. sakusa tries his best to listen, he really does, but he can’t tel the difference between makeup wipes and micellar water.

“sorry to interrupt you, angel,” he kisses you on the forehead to calm your protests, “but which one do i use? the micellar water, right? you said the wipes burn sometimes...”

“aww oomi,” you bring your legs to wrap around his legs, pressing him into you, “you know me so well,” you mumble against his lips. your arms wrap around sakusa’s neck, hands tangling into the soft hair at his nape, lips building a rhythm against his.

it takes everything in sakusa to stop you, but he knows where kisses like this lead and getting you in bed is top priority.

“no, y/n,” he breaks the kiss to peer into you, “you need rest.” his eyes are soft and full of love, “let me take care of you, baby. sit still, please.” you nod and give him a quick peck, a silent promise to give him the reigns. relaxing the hold your lags have around him, kiyoomi gets to work.

he dabs the micellar water on your reusable cotton pad, gently swiping it across your face. you close your eyes, humming and mumbling the words of a song he heard earlier. using this time, sakusa admires the softness of your face, love swelling in his chest.

“all done.” you kiss his cheek in thanks, moving to hop off the counter. his hands fly out to hold your hips, keeping you placent, “not so fast.” he moves away from you, searching through the cupboards to find all the pieces of your routine.

after gathering his materials, he starts with dropping a clear, cool serum on your face.

“remind you of anything?” you joke, giggling mindlessly at your own joke.

"stop talking."

"boo, go back to being nice!"

"shh!"

you sigh loudly, swinging your legs and humming louder. sakusa works moisturizer into your skin with such vigor, your body starts to move. for good measure, he squeezes your cheeks, making your lips appear fish-like, laughing when you whine, "oomi, stop! let me go! are you done yet?"

moving to put all your things away, he nods, "yes, y/n. all done."

"carry me back then!"

"i lied. you still have to brush your teeth." you open your mouth to speak, "and no, i will not brush them for you."

"but i'm tired!"

"too bad. look, i even put the toothpaste on for you." he hands you the toothbrush. you snatch it out of his hands and vigorously brush your teeth. smiling at your attitude, sakusa begins to do his own nightly routine.

looking at him through your peripherals, you admire his physique. he really is built like a greek god. shamelessly, you rake your eyes over his body, observing the contraction of his muscles; the way the light reflects from his skin. sakusa kiyoomi truly is beautiful. catching your stare, he pokes your stomach.

"stop looking at me."

"what? i can't look at you?" foam flies everywhere.

"not like that."

"like what?"

"like you want to eat me."

"i do." you spit out the toothpaste, rinsing your toothbrush and putting it away.

you straightforwardness makes him blush, "tomorrow. i'm all yours tomorrow, but for right now-" he approaches you, his lean frame towering over your own, "-let's get you in bed."

you don't have to ask him to carry you; he does it anyway, throwing you over his shoulder and laying you on the bed.

"are you going to tuck me in, oomi?"

"what kind of question is that? of course i'm going to tuck you in."

i know i reference sakusa picking the reader up a lot but this man is 6'4" 176.8 pounds (192 cm, 80 kg) and could therefore bench press you without breaking a sweat, no matter what your weight is. my baby is strong. periodt.

#not proud of this one ://#i hate it #lowkey #sakusa #kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #msby #msby sakusa #msby sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #sakusa fic #sakusa oneshot #sakusa drabble

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tytytheshynarrator · 2 years

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A Zaunite in a Piltover World

Chapter 14

-Pairing: M/F, F/F

-Rating: Teen

-Word Count: 3.5k

Viktor audibly sighed as Jayce left the table. This night was not going very well, he was full of emotions that only hindered his advancements in the Sciences. The celebratory meals never made sense to him, making nice with people he wasted time on. The words ‘wasted time on’ played over and over in his head.

Is that really what he thought of you now? Had he wasted his time on you. He knew Sky pined over him and here you were, setting barriers and barricading your heart from him. Clearly out galivanting with partners in the Undercity while he was worried sick about you. Unknowingly he let out several more audible sighs.

You were picking up the impression Viktor would rather be anywhere else then here with you. Your head rang with thoughts of sorrow and self-pity. Rubbing your forehead to ease the headache forming, you spoke quietly “I’m sorry Viktor.” Your voice broke threw the silence. He glared at you unable to respond. Shuddering under his intense gaze you clinched your hands, balling them into tight fists.

“Was last night a lie to you?” Viktor's accent was laced with venom. “No!” you cried out, soft enough to not draw attention to you from nearby tables. Your eyes met his, where yours were sincere and frightened, his were angered and confused. “Then there is still more I don’t understand. Help me understand (Y/N).” You averted your eyes again in fear, self-conscious fear. He was going to hate you if he knew the answer, you could not tell him.

He exhaled another wave of animosity in your direction, openly displeased with your unwillingness to explain to him. Why had you shut yourself off from him, he would never understand. Placing his fist down on the table, it sounded a soft thud that tore at you. “I thought we were friends. We shared so much, yet I still know so little of you.” When had this turned into an interrogation, your face must have given way to your thoughts. In that moment Viktor stood up from the table in an attempt to leave.

You began to tremble as the opening to explain yourself was closing, you were losing Viktor. “I didn’t think what happened in the Undercity really would affect my life in Piltover.” He swung around to glare at you. “How does it not? You are still the same person are you not?” He questioned your reasoning. You finally broke, if he wanted to know this bad that he was willing to throw away whatever friendship you had, then fine you were going to give him the answers for which he was searching. Your voice waivered as you spoke, “I got involved with a very powerful man while I was in the Undercity, I was informed that he had a drug that could heal my mother so I could move her here.” Your voice was hushed and shaky as you drove your story into Viktor.

“I tried stealing it from him and got caught up. He took my body as payment.” You growled out knowing Viktor was going to think differently of you now, but there was no stopping you as your words flooded from your mouth. “Eventually he apologized and strung me along, giving in to me and my demands. But I crossed a line that I shouldn’t have.” Viktor sat back down as he watched you unfold. Tears streamed from your frustrated face, you were breaking right in front of him, because he doubted you. He gave into his anger, his jealousy. Avoiding your saddened orbs, he stared down at the table in shame. Viktor desired you, all of you to himself. So much so that he had forgotten about your own emotions and feelings.

“I was reminded that he was the one in power.” Your voice trailed off as you stared off into the empty space behind Viktor. Concern for what came next charted itself over Viktor's features. You stood up from the table, realizing tonight was a complete waste. “No good deed goes unpunished, he raped me for making a fool of him” You looked at Viktor's stunned eyes as tears continued to flow from yours. Viktor knew in that moment he had pushed you too far.

You blew past him trying your best to hold yourself together until you reached the outside world. Once outside the front doors, you paused only for a brief moment to strip your shoes off. You darted to the only place you knew would protect you. The hanger bay.

Pounding his fist into the table hard this time, he drew the attention of everyone. Standing up to limp his way after you he noticed Jayce had already started to say his goodbyes to Caitlyn and worm his way to where he stood. The men met up at the entrance of the building, Jayce grabbed Viktor's arm hard. The large man nearly dragged the smaller scientist out of the building. Jayce roared into Viktor’s face. “What the fuck!” Viktor sat still allowing Jayce to vent his anger and questions on him. “I messed up.” Was all Viktor could muster. “You didn’t just mess up! You made her cry!” Jayce continued to bark out bitterness.

“I just wanted to know who gave her those marks on her shoulder.” He looked away ashamed. “Prying into someone’s private life is never justifiable. No matter who they are. She had her reasons and all you had to do was trust her and respect that.” Jayce let go of Viktor. “Where did she go? You need to make this better.” Viktor just shrugged; he had no clue. Exhaling out his frustration Jayce snapped at Viktor, “Then I will take this part of the city and her house. You search the Library and the hanger. Those are the only places I know she goes to.”

Rushing off into the darkness of the night filled streets Jayce began to search for you, leaving Viktor behind. Gathering his mind, Viktor turned in the opposite direction to search for you as well.

You dashed and sprinted threw the blackness of the shadows in Piltover. These streets and alleys were easy to navigate compared to the ruined streets of the Undercity. Without your heels limiting you, you arrived at the Mechanical Bay in mere minutes. The cold from running stung your face where the lines of tears had been. Fiddling with your keys, you managed to pry open the side door leading to the locker room. After shoving your heels and lose objects into your locker you made a b-line for your office. You wanted to lock yourself away and never come out again.

The only problem with your plan was Zevi. She blocked your path, with one look at you she knew something was wrong. “Men are useless, you practically have to hold their hand.” Her words were stern and bitter. “I just want to be left alone Zevi.” You pleaded with her to just let you threw to your office. “No, not in a million years.” She retorted before wrapping you in her arms. You gave into the hug, holding on to her tightly as you sobbed. Your life felt so out of your control. You came back to Piltover to work, not be involved in love triangles and emotional trauma.

After your cries died down Zevi released you to your office, stating she would be here if you wanted to talk or anything you could desire. You softly smiled at her joke before ascending the stairs and locking yourself into your office. Zevi remained at the bottom of the stairs she knew they would come for you. She knew this was Viktor's fault, he was the only man who had this hold on your heart. The only person your heart desired and wished to please.

Waiting was getting boring, Zevi tinkered as she sat guarding the stairs. A distant click of a door opening drew her attention. In the doorway stood a defeated Viktor, his eyes looked about the room. “She doesn’t want to see you.” Zevi said placing her small project down observing Viktor like a wild animal. “Where is she?” He demanded. Zevi laughed sarcastically as if Viktor was in any place to make demands of her or you. “You don’t get to come in here demanding shit boy.” Her tone was vile and defensive. “Whatever you did to make her cry like that, you will never be doing again.” Zevi stood to meet Viktor's advancing form.

Viktor rolled his eyes, “She is an adult and all I want to do is talk with her.” He spoke politely. Zevi narrowed her eyes and tried to bore holes into his face. “She does not want to see you.” Snapping back at Viktor. “And who are you to her exactly?” He questioned her. “I am her mentor and her friend! Which is more then I can say about you in this moment.” Zevi’s words hurt to hear. Viktor took a step back with a wounded expression. “I just want to apologize to her. If I had known I wouldn’t have pushed her.”

Zevi’s eye twitched in rage. “You should have just respected her! You maybe a man of science, but you are by far one of the dumbest people I have ever had the chance to encounter. Why she fell for someone like you I will never understand.” The yell ripped threw her chest as it echoed threw the mostly empty hanger. Viktor was shocked, “Fell for me?”

“Give the boy an award!” Zevi lifted her arms in the air to add to the dramatics. “Take this and go to her you stupid man.” She said releasing her defenses on you like this was not going to fix what you needed fixing. Shoving a small key into his hands, she held his shirt tight before threatening him if he ever hurt you again, he would never make it out of this hanger alive. Nodding he took the key and bounded up the stairs to your office.

Unlocking the door, he pushed it open softly. Stepping into the dark room the hallway light behind him illuminated your body. You were huddled in a small ball in the corner of the room. He could here you softly crying. Now everything made sense, the nightmares, the marks, the bruises, and the harsh treatment from the Enforcers. You were going threw hell and he was mentioning the emotional wounds.

Kneeling down to the ground he wrapped his body around yours. Feeling you pull away from his touch, he only hugged you tighter. “Please just leave me alone.” You managed to choke out between sobs. “No, not until I apologize. After that I will leave if that is what you want me to do.” Your face was covered in tears, as strands of your hair hung over your eyes.

Viktor gently pushed the strands away from your weeping orbs. Even in this moment of high emotion you looked breath taking to him. “I know this may not mean much, but I am truly and deeply sorry that I pushed you to places I shouldn’t have.” You were uncertain of how to take his apology. On one hand you knew he meant every word of it; on the other hand, he could have just trusted you and accepted what you had tried to hide from him. This whole situation was made worse by both of your incapability to communicate.

The two of you sat silently for what felt like forever. Viktor was the first to break the silence. “I was jealous, I know what he did to you was unforgivable. But it still fed into my jealousy, someone was so easily able to take something so valuable from you.” His amber eyes fell to the floor, “Don’t get me wrong I adore being your friend, but I have wanted you since the day I met you all those years ago.”

His confession hit you hard. Both men had said the same thing. ‘You gave away too much’ but to you it was just your body. You had so much more to prove and provide the world with then just your body. Using it like a tool to get yourself further was just common, you saw it all around you growing up. The rules of Zaun always had a hard time translating over to Piltover. This was one of those times.

“Sorry too. I am sorry people blamed you for what happened to me. I should have made it clearer to everyone. Including you.” You began to wipe your eyes of the tears that now stained your face. “I never even thought you would be jealous over someone from the Undercity.” A small frown formed on his face before he spoke. “I am from the Undercity. Of coarse anyone from anywhere who put you in a position like that would make me jealous. That is still no reason for me to have taken that out on you.” Shaking your head, you understood but disagreed with his statement. “You may be from Zaun, but you are here in Piltover now. You have evolved and bettered yourself. Your nothing like the man who did this to me. I’m not even sure where I stand with him.”

Viktor chose to ignore the last part of what you had said. He focused on the evolution portion; it was true. He had come along way, but he had so much more to go, and he wanted to share that with you. You just desperately wanted to put the whole events with you and Silco and tonight far in the past. Resting your forehead against his with a small thud to gather his attention. He looked into your eyes-only finding affection. His body began to tremble with anticipation, his heart swelled. “Am I being forgiven?” You chuckled, “Yes on one condition.” His eyes lit up, “Anything.”

“Trust me, trust in me. I only want you. So no more of this vile jealousy please.” Your words sunk into Viktor's core. “I promise.” Smiling you leaned in closing the distance between your mouths. Your lips crashed into his with subtle excitement. Every one of your nerve endings tingled with impatience. You finally had the one who made you feel whole. Now you wanted more of him.

Viktor cupped your face as your lips collided again. Angling your face he deepened the kiss, with his tongue tracing your bottom lip. His hands worked their way from your face to your hair giving a light tug. Your lips parted; a soft moan slipped out as his tongue slid in. Both tongues wrestled for dominance and exploration rights. His winning out over yours, Viktor’s tongue took its time exploring your mouth.

As you pulled apart your mouth hung open panting, your pupils were blown with lust. Viktor's eyes were equally dilated, he wanted you just as bad. There was a dull pain rising in your hip, the ground was not a very comfortable place to make out. “Can we move to somewhere more comfortable?” You asked shyly. He nodded in agreement the ground had become increasingly uncomfortable. Standing up, you offered your hand to help Viktor from the floor. He may have stood taller then you, but he was surprisingly light.

With a small yank you managed to pull him to his feet. He stumbled a bit, pinning you to the wall by accident. He took this opportunity to place a few more feathered kisses over your face in his best effort to right the tear tracks left behind.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lowered his posture to match your height. Your teeth grazed his lower lip, Viktor let out a low groan that reverberated down to your core. The noises he made were enough to cause your womanhood to flood. Viktor parted from the kiss much to your dismay. He placed several open mouth kisses along your neck, trailing down to your shoulder. Stopping just before the mark Silco had left behind, Viktor still showed signs of jealousy.

To ease his worries, you parted your legs allowing for a space for his to stand. He took the opportunity to press his knee against the wall closing the distance between the two of you. He rested his forearm beside your head as his other arm hooked itself around your leg. This gave him the chance to compress his clothed member against your dampened lace panties.

Viktor dropped the arm pinning you against the wall and wrapped it about your waste. He desired as much of your body pressed against his, the heat between your bodies grew the closer you became. His body was running on pure instinct, but he was still distracted by the marks. They had caused so much misunderstanding and hurt. Viktor was still unsure of how to proceed with everything.

Now it was your turn to tease the man standing before you. You ground down your core against the forming tent in Viktor's pants, being graced with another low groan. Consumed with desire for more of his moans you brought your hand up to his chocolate locks, tangling your fingers and giving a soft tug. This granted you with even more of his accented noises. Viktor's husky, lust filled voice moaned out your name.

A soft knock was placed on your office door, Zevi cleared her throat trying her best to not spook the two of you. “I’m happy for the two of you but let’s not make office parties a common practice please.” Your eyes widened in embarrassment; you freed your leg from Viktor’s grasp. Releasing your grip on his hair came next, he let out a small whine as he came out of the lust filled fog. “I am so sorry Zevi!” you blurted out, trying your best to push Viktor from you.

Holding onto the wall he did his best to grant your escape from underneath his larger frame. Slipping out to began to pick up the room as Zevi watched over you. Handing Viktor his cane, he softly mouthed a thank you. Your features were flushed from a mix of desire and embarrassment. “Hey think fast.” Zevi said catching your attention. She had tossed your keys, catching them with ease. You smiled, “Thanks I kind of needed those.” She chuckled at your disorientation, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” Zevi voiced as she turned and left the doorway.

Letting out a deep exhale you looked back at Viktor. The bewildered look in his eyes and disheveled hair stoked the flames in your core. “We should probably head somewhere else.” You sputtered out. He nodded before limping to the doorway. You could tell by his walk something was bothering him. Waiting until the two of you had left the building you asked your question. “Are you doing okay?” Directing your eyes over all of his body. Viktor muttered, “Yes tonight has been a bit of a rollercoaster, my mind is pleading for more of you.” The way he said it so bluntly caused you to wiggle your thighs together. Your body desired to be touched and the friction that came from it.

“However, my body can’t seem to handle much more for today.” He spoke out saddened by his own limitations. The mind is capable of amazing things, thinking of ways around his problems was one of them. Before you could speak your mind, you reconsidered. Pushing anyone’s body for desire was never a smart or responsible idea. “We have plenty of time together Viktor, I am not going anywhere.” You reassured him; he subtly brushed his hand against yours. You took the hint and intertwined your fingers, a sweet smile spread across Viktor's face.

After walking a short distance, you arrived at Viktor's apartment, it had been the closer of the homes. He unlocked the door and offered for you to spend the evening with him. You politely declined, “Sorry I should probably go home tonight. You need rest and I feel I would be too tempted to do more then just sleep.” He stared at you quizzically before you took to showing him the best way you knew how. Taking his hand that was intertwined with yours, you guided his fingers in between your legs. Pressing lightly against your wet underwear he understood. He agreed that it would be rather difficult to sleep with you next to him. As he stroked a couple fingers up your damped lace. Eliciting several moans from your mouth.

At the loss of frictions from his fingers you whined only to pull him in by his tie. Placing a hard kiss on his lips he sunk into you. You pulled away first looking him over. “Good night Viktor, I will be seeing you.” Offering a smile before turning to leave. “Good night, walk home safely.”

Once you were out of his line of sight, Viktor shut his front door. You were absolutely everything he had ever dreamed of as he closed his eyes and rested against the door. Now you were his.

#arcane #league of legends #viktor #viktorxreader #archive of our own #jealousy

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kurts-still-here · 3 years

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They’ll Never See Me Cry Kurtbastian FanFiction Chapter 6/7: Panic Attack

Archive Of Our Own

FanFiction.Net

Please leave any questions, comments or feedback on here or on A03 or FanFiction.Net and hope you enjoy!! :)

Blaine and Sam

Blaine and Sam were walking down the hallway, hand in hand, happily in love. In Santana’s words it was sickening to watch but they didn’t care, they were happy with each other. They had never been so in love with anyone before and they were happy with their power couple status at McKinley. No more bullying, no more slushies, no more slurs, ever since they had gotten together no one had dared to mess with them or anyone else in the glee club. Except for Kurt.

They didn’t know why everyone was still picking on him because it couldn't be because he was gay. They were gay, Santana was a lesbian and Brittany was bisexual so it couldn’t be because of homophobia. And they would try and find out more about what was going on with Kurt because he had been acting strangely for a while now but they didn’t really care enough to ask him. He was distant and snappy with everyone lately and they were too busy being happy with their own life to have Kurt bring them down.

When Sam had first transferred to McKinley he had fallen for Kurt and he was pretty sure that Kurt had fallen for him too. At the time he wasn’t too sure about his sexuality and he thought that maybe it would be a good idea for him to explore dating since he had never met anyone gay before. So he went out with Kurt a few times but he didn’t like it and he could tell that Kurt didn’t either. He knew that Kurt had nothing against him and therefore he had nothing against Kurt so they had stayed friends (if you could really say that) but there was something… off with him. Kurt never smiled or laughed, Sam didn’t even know what he sounded like when he was happy. He rarely ever spoke and when he did, you could tell he didn’t want to talk or be a part of the conversation. He was like a ghost, miserable and see-through. He didn’t show his emotions which was why it was so hard to figure out what Kurt liked and how he felt about certain things (out of the 6 dates they went on all he learned about Kurt was that his mom had died when he was 6 of cancer and that he liked to design clothes). But you could still tell that he was sad. And since he never talked or deliberately showed how he felt, no one knew what to do.

The same thing went for Blaine. Kurt had transferred to Dalton and Blaine had instantly fallen in love with him. Kurt wasn’t the first gay person that he had met but Blaine knew he wanted Kurt to be his first boyfriend. But it was so hard to talk to him and to get him to open up. It seemed like Kurt was just there to get his school work done and to stay out of everyone’s way. The only reason Kurt had met him was because they shared the same dorm room with Nick and Jeff and there was no way that they could avoid each other. And he knew not to take it personally when Kurt was short with him or when Kurt ignored him because he knew that Kurt was an introvert and that he didn’t like talking to people but that didn’t mean that he didn’t try to get Kurt to talk to him. And he had succeeded eventually because Kurt had eventually agreed to go out with him after Blaine had stopped being subtle and had outright asked him but it didn’t last long.

They were too different. Blaine was bubbly and outgoing and Kurt was calm and dull. Blaine was affectionate and showed his emotions while Kurt seemed to hate being touched and kept his facial expression cold and emotionless. Blaine figured that he liked the way Kurt looked more than he liked his personality and therefore after a total of 9 dates which was more than Sam could say, Blaine broke up with him. And it hurt Blaine that Kurt didn’t even seem to care. Blaine had come to him, pouring out all his feelings and emotions about how he felt about Kurt and then Kurt just looked up to him and said okay. Blankly, no hint of sadness or regret anywhere. And then it got too hard for Blaine not to take it personally and even though they stayed friends he couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with Kurt.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who thought that because after Regionals when he went with Kurt to a party with the New Directions he met Kurt’s other ex, Sam and they instantly hit it off. They bonded over both being rejected by Kurt and soon they were dating. And in a tiny part of each boy’s brains they knew they were dating each other because they wanted to make Kurt jealous and they also knew that they were still in love with Kurt so it hurt even more when Kurt showed no resentment, no hatred, no emotion at all towards the thought of Blaine and Sam as a couple. He wasn’t happy about it either but then again he was never happy so everyone knew he didn’t care.

So life went on. Blaine and Sam were happy with each other and their lives except for the fact that they couldn’t have Kurt Hummel. The fact was like an itch that couldn’t be scratched and whenever either boy saw Kurt they couldn’t help but feel a feeling of loss and jealousy. And it was frustrating because they were happy with each other except for when Kurt was around. And Kurt hardly seemed to notice etheir of them. He was always off in his own world, distant and cold. He knew that he was still friends with the New Directions and the New Directions knew that Kurt was still their friend but somehow it seemed like Kurt hated them. And the glee kids didn’t know how or why Kurt would or could hate them.

This was once again a situation where it would be helpful if Kurt wouldn’t shut himself out and would show how he felt. And because he didn’t show how he felt it was such a surprise when Blaine and Sam saw Kurt… crying, alone in the hallway.

Blaine and Sam turned the corner and their eyes were drawn towards a figure on the ground, curled up on itself. They instantly knew who the person was due to their small frame and pale hands, it had to be Kurt. They didn’t know what to do, they had never seen Kurt show any emotion at all and this time he just had to be sad. So not knowing what to do they quickly went back to the corner they had just come from and peeked over the wall to look at him from a safer position.

Kurt wasn’t just crying small, pretty, delicate tears like someone would’ve thought he would. He was full on sobbing, tears streaming rapidly down his flushed face. His chest was heaving up and it seemed as if he was having difficulty breathing. Both boys turned to each other with looks of confusion and sympathy, as if they were telepathically asking each other what to do. Sam was the first one to talk.

“What the fuck?” He whispered to his boyfriend. “I didn't even know he could cry. I thought he had had his tear things removed like Coach Sue,”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Of course he can make Sam cry. Even Sue can cry, she didn’t have her tear ducts removed. That’s ridiculous,”

“Well what should we do?” Sam shrugged. “Should we just leave him there?”

“I think so,” Blaine nodded. “He hates both of us anyway, it’s not like we’ll be much help,”

“He doesn’t hate us,” Sam said, smacking Blaine’s arm and frowning. “He doesn’t hate me anyway,”

“How can you even tell?” Blaine said, getting angry. “He doesn’t talk, he doesn’t acknowledge anyone, hell it’s like he’s not even with us half the time. He walks around here like he’s a ghost.”

“Maybe he is a ghost then,” Sam said, seriously making Blaine roll his eyes again. “Hey, I’m serious. Maybe he killed himself because he’s so unhappy and now this is ghost Kurt. I think it’s cool,”

“Fine then, you go talk to the ghost,” Blaine huffed, pushing Sam to go and comfort Kurt but Sam didn’t budge. “That’s what I thought, he’s not ghost babe,”

“Well I need some kind of explanation. Even if he doesn’t consider me a friend, I consider him one and I don’t like it when my friends are sad.” Sam explained. “Do you still think it’s bullying?”

Blaine shrugged. He didn’t like it when his friends cried either but he also didn’t want to deal with a crying Kurt. If he was right (which he usually was) then Kurt would be one of those people that said there was nothing wrong when they had tears all over their face and in their eyes. He would be bitchy and would push whoever away and they would just be wasting their time.

“I don’t know Sam but really does it even concern us. You dated Kurt, you know how he is, we both do. He doesn’t want our help, trust me. He doesn’t need it either and I don’t want to waste our time. I thought we were going to spend the afternoon together, Kurt doesn’t need to tag along.” Blaine said with a resentful tone.

“I don’t think it would be a waste of time,” Sam admitted. “We could always spend another afternoon together but who knows, Kurt may never cry again. What if he tells us what’s going on with him? Then we could help him and he could be happy,”

“But he won’t tell us because he never tells anyone anything. I even forgot what he sounds like,” Blaine complained, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Don’t be like that Blaine,” Sam said, somewhat disappointed in his boyfriend’s unwillingness to help their friend. “He’s voice is all high and somewhat girly. It’s unique. And you don’t know if he’ll talk or not because we’ve never even asked him what’s going on. And maybe if we do then he'll feel like someone actually cares about him and he’ll let us help,”

Blaine opened his mouth to argue back when they heard whispers coming from the hallway and peeked around once more to see Kurt, still crying, talking into his phone.

“Dad,” He whispered. “Dad, please help. I’m at school and I can’t… I can’t breathe. Please answer me, I’m so scared. And I don’t think anyone else is here and I don’t want Finn, I want you and please just answer me. I don’t know what to do,” They then watched as Kurt took the phone away from his ear and stared at it. “Fuck I can’t send that,” They heard him say before deleting the message off his phone and leaning his head back against the locker.

Sam and Blaine turned around to face each other again and Sam knew that he needed to win Blaine over so they could get Kurt help. If he couldn’t breathe then he needed someone.

“Come on Blaine, please,” He pleaded with his boyfriends who avoided his puppy dog eyes and who crossed his arms in front of him. “He needs help,”

“If he doesn’t want Finn, then he doesn’t want us Sam,” Blaine hissed. “Now let’s go,”

“No,” Sam pouted. “You can go but I want to stay. What if he dies?”

“He’s having a panic attack Sam,” Blaine explained, like Sam was a five year old. “He’s not going to fine, he just needs to breathe some and then he’ll be fine,”

“I don’t believe you,” Sam continued to pout. “Well actually I do, that makes sense but still, he probably doesn’t know that,”

“Kurt’s smart, he knows what to do,” Blaine said, looking back over to the hallway that Kurt was in. “Look out him now, he looks better,”

Sam looked where Blaine was and saw that Kurt had stood up and was now taking deep breaths while walking back and forth and wiping his tears. He did look a little better even though he just wiped his face to have more tears fall down. And his breathing was still pretty uneven. But he looked better. And Sam would be lying if he said he would rather stay with Kurt then go with Blaine. He loved Blaine and even though he still loved Kurt, he didn’t want to be around someone who was so mopey and depressing, even if that person needed help.

So he turned back to Blaine who now had a hopeful expression on his face and gave in to him. “Fine,” He said, earning a fist pump from his boyfriend. “Let’s go,”

“Yes,” Blaine cheered, remembering to be quiet so Kurt didn’t see him. He took Sam’s hand and they started walking again, the way they had come from, as to not run into Kurt.

But something was still bugging Sam. Why was Blaine so against helping Kurt? He knew that Blaine had liked Kurt but lately it seemed like Blaine hated him and even if that wasn’t true, Sam wanted to know why Blaine acted that way whenever Kurt was brought up.

“Do you still like him?” Sam asked out of the blue. “I mean, do you still love Kurt?”

“Sam…” Blaine started to tell him but he knew that Blaine was about to lie and he wanted the truth.

“Look, just be honest with me,” Sam continued walking, staring stringent ahead. “I won’t get mad, hell even I still love him a little even though I’m with you. And obviously I love you more so you have nothing to worry about but you just seem so… I don’t know, it’s like you don’t like him because you still like him and you're hurt because he doesn’t like you. And I just want you to talk to me in case that’s what it is,”

Blaine sighed, looking straight ahead just like Sam. “That does make sense. I guess you could say I still love him a little. And just like you, I obviously love you more but there’s just something about him. It’s like I'm so drawn to him because I’ve never been rejected before, I’ve always been the one to turn someone down and now here’s this boy who’s so… I don’t even know how to describe him but I want and he doesn’t want me and that’s never happened to me before.”

“That seems fair,” Sam shrugged.

“But like I said, you love me and I love you and Kurt doesn’t seem to notice either of us so it doesn't matter,” Blaine said cheerfully.

“Right,” Sam smiled. “I love you,”

“I love you too,” Blaine smiled back.

But yet their minds went back to Kurt and they seemed to love him more.

Kurt

He didn’t know how to explain it, he barely even knows what happened. One minute he was walking down the hallway to his car and the next, all the air had been knocked out of him and he couldn’t breathe. He had slid down the front of some lockers and his heart felt like it wanted to beat out of his chest.

He couldn’t do it anymore, he officially wanted to die. He was tired of trying only to fail. He felt as if no one wanted him around and as if they were all better off without him. He wasn’t happy, he wasn’t good enough and he was so tired of it.

He didn’t see the point in life anymore. He was barely even functioning. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t talk or interact with anyone, all he did was stay shut up in his room except for when he had to show himself at school and even then he was barely there. So if you were barely even living in the first place then what was the point of living at all?

And he could do it, he could end his life and he told himself that he should. That it would be for the best and that no one wanted him around anyway and that all he was doing was taking up space. But then he would lay awake late at night with a razor or with a bottle of pills and he would think about doing it, slitting his wrists or downing all the painkillers, he would think about dying and all of a sudden, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He couldn’t help but feel like everyone would be disappointed in him. And it was weird, as if he was just making excuses for himself because he knew everyone hated him and that they wouldn’t care. But then he would imagine the faces people would make when they found him passed out in his own blood or when they heard that he was dead. And that he was dead because he had taken his own life. Because he was that unhappy.

And he knew that everyone knew that he was depressed and he knew that they noticed him and that just went to further prove that they hated him. Because they saw how unhappy he was and they did nothing to help him. They looked and acted like nothing was wrong with him but he knew there was something wrong with him and he knew that they knew too. And it was so frustrating that no one wanted to help him.

It was so frustrating that he wouldn’t allow himself to cry until he was alone in his room. It was so frustrating that all he wanted was a hug or to scream or for everything to just go away and that he couldn’t have that. He had to get up. He had to get up and he had to act like everything was fine. Like he wasn’t dying inside, like he didn’t want to do, he had to act like he was fine. And it was to the point where he didn’t care anymore, he didn’t try to hide how sad he was.

He moped around, he admitted it. And he shut everyone out of his life because he knew that all they would do was pity him and he didn’t want their pity. He didn’t want their sympathy. All he wanted was for someone to care, someone to help him not because they felt like they needed to but because they wanted to, because they truly cared about him. But who was he kidding? No one cared about him, no one wanted to help him. They wanted to ignore him and his problems and they only wanted to care about each other and not him. So much for friends, so much for family.

But it didn’t matter to him anymore, he knew what to do. He could get up and pretend and act like everything was okay and like his world wasn’t collapsing around him and he could go to school and stare off and ignore everyone and when he got home he could continue to ignore everyone and he could lock himself up in his room and he could lay down in his bed. He could pretend he didn’t exist because he never wanted to exist and he certainly didn’t know. It’s not like everything wouldn’t be better off without him anyway. He knew where he belonged and it wasn’t here.

#glee #glee fanfiction #kurt hummel #sebastian smythe #kurtbastian

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dorki-c · 3 years

Text

Metanoia

Characters: Dabi and reader

Relationship: Dabi X Pro-hero! Reader

Quote: “Metanoia”

Gift for: @glitterfreezed (Aka photoshop goddess) THANK YOU for being one of my very first moots on this crazy platform! I really hope you enjoy this one shot (as I spent way too much time on it XD) and for anybody reading this: GO CHECK OUT GLITTERS PLAYLISTS!! They are honestly amazing!

Tw: Kidnapping, Use of Guns, Slight nudity

Going on patrol lately has been boring.

Sure, (y/n) wouldn’t pass it up for helping little old ladies get across the road or helping itty bitty children find their parents within a crowd.

But besides that, there was little to nothing to do- no paperwork, no criminals terrorising the streets, or vigilantes on loose- the streets were cleared and scrubbed down from any crime lately.

It was strange.

Nothing has been the same ever since Kamino ward as well.

The moment you found out your lover was a villain; you took great lengths to create distance from him. Not sparing him a second glance or another phone call- let’s not forget you blocked his number- although doing these things made you seem like an asshole; you are a hero.

Heroes do not date Villains.

Its absolutely forbidden.

Though should you have stayed with him, something could’ve happened- he could’ve used you for blackmail, ransom, and maybe trafficking- as terrifying as it sounds, at least your far from your old apartment.

At least your away from that freak. That sadistic freakshow, with his stupid smirk and (beautiful) weird ass scars.

Luckily, the clock had ticked to the hour that announced your release from countless wasted minutes of scrolling through your phone as two feet laid disrespectfully on the hero agencies desk where nobody pointed out the blatant rudeness she was showing.

Even if she wanted to stay here, the female should get home soon. Even if there was no problem during the day, that doesn’t reassure that there will be trouble when walking through the evening.

Where you had the inkling of protection that is provided to you by your muscle memory, nobody should rely on themselves to do a simple task like walking home when there is such a thing as societies creepy-crawly insects withering across the nooks and crannies of cities and flooding the deepest rabbit holes with their sickening ideals.

Just thinking about them brings revolting nausea into the churning acid within the insides of your body as it screams out to stay aware of the footsteps you take, of the glances you throw out, and of your hands gripping the cheap handbag- that you bought on a whim from that one charity shop around the corner of the apartment building- when a hand of yours dipped inside the bag to grip the weapon that laid unaware of whose blood it could spill today.

The three walled mirror room moved down from whatever floor it was on and when opening the doors, a small (and annoying) ping was heard through the (also) small lobby area.

When approaching your apartment door with your guard up and one of your hands swiftly opening the rusted door handle allowing a small gust of air to run into the vacant apartment, the eyes of a human watchdog sporadically darted from one place to another.

Making sure she can securely (slam) open the door, the pro hero steps in one footstep at a time like one of the cliché spy movies before throwing her bag down and yanking the heavy weapon out of her bag.

Its matte black exterior elongated to show the vertical and horizontal bits and pieces of the weapon as (Y/n) rested one of her fingers on the trigger whilst fiddling with the safety lock to make it unlock.

Once unlocking the safety lock of the gun, she leaned it towards the ground, turned around for a brief second to retrieve the key from her apartment door, then kicked said door shut with the heel of her foot.

Even when she investigates her almost empty apartment three times without a peaceful resolve at the end, the female is already sitting on her couch scrolling through another apartment renting website for herself.

It’s pathetic.

She’s on the run from her ex-boyfriend because she knows that if she gets caught by him, there will be a low chance of her escaping from his grasp again. It was quite evident from his group’s little broadcast that if anyone “tries to catch us, you’re going to be caught first.”

What if that applies to people wanting to escape from them?

Stripping herself of the day’s tiredness, the female wore the loosest clothing within her wardrobe and ventured out to the shit-tip of her kitchen- the sink only had a few dishes in it, but, otherwise the trash looked like it got taken out once a year and there were so many letters scattered in piles over the counters.

Sighing at the sight, letting a hand of hers travel up her shirt to soothe an itch on her back, (y/n) shook her head at her own mess and still continued to go towards the fridge to dig through it in order to find the cheap- most definitely shitty- microwavable food she bought from the store only three days ago because to be completely honest, she’s saving up for buying a ticket out of this shit country and living in another one.

Ripping the film cover off of the food’s plastic container, she shoved her shitty food in the microwave and let the annoying beep sound through the apartment while (y/n) went into the small living room, grabbed some shorts that were sunbathing under the flickering yellow bulb and put them on in order to take out the trash.

When entering back into the apartment however, a flash of darkness alerted her body to go limp.

What was this feeling of restraint around her arms and legs? Moving one of her wrists- in an attempt to pull them out of the bindings- a harsh rub of a frictional material bit across the sensitive layer of the underside of your wrist, where it elicited a hiss to very subtly slip from your lips.

That seemingly helped beg a question in your curious mind. “Are my eyes covered?” Although when opening your eyes, a flurry of white blinded you causing a multitude of red freckles to dance across the pale illumination.

Whoever thought not putting a blindfold on you was a smart idea, it seems clear to me that they didn’t watch enough spy movies.

Okay, time to take a look of your surroundings.

First of all, Y/n glanced down to see if she had any major injuries- nope, the only thing missing from her body was her clothes and if that didn’t count as being kinky, then (y/n) doesn’t know what it counts as- along with her feet barely touching the carpeted floor, her ankles were tied to what she assumes to be a wooden chair.

Looking off to the side after shifting her gaze from her feet to her forearm her eyes picked out the surroundings behind her and the type of seat she was sitting in. Wow, whoever kidnapped you, really knows how to do it inefficiently.

Though, if they’ve used cheap ass rope and tied you up to a wooden chair- out of all the chairs in the world, they choose a wooden chair- along with forgetting to put a blindfold on you, they probably didn’t take any precaution when kidnapping you because the criminals probably have back up on hold.

Meaning there was more than one culprit involved and that they don’t expect you to get out of this area due to being outnumbered.

Moving your head upwards once more, the outlines of what seems to be a closet and a drawer were all that you could observe before some sort of jiggling sound was emitted through the silent room.

It wasn’t till the door opened that it revealed somebody that (y/n) didn’t expect. A hitch lodged itself like a six-foot down corpse where only grave looters would be able to find it. Was she seeing a ghost? Perhaps. Did she care? Maybe, however she was trained to not overreact in a situation like this.

“Well, look what we have here…” The metal contraptions that held the person’s tough layer of skin nudged a little in the direction of the muscle’s movement. “…A squirming itty-bitty hero.” The venomous hiss of their voice slipped real close to her ear as the lamp pointing obnoxiously into her right eye was turned off.

“So, this was your doing?” Snapped the hero as the villain sat down on her lap and gently grasped her chin- just like the old days- where his fucked up (handsome) grin shone brighter than the hero on her first debut. Dodging the question, the male let his weight lean onto the female’s thighs as she harshly craned her jutted out facial bone away from his hold.

“Oh, and it looks like your still as feisty as ever.”

“Yeah, I am. Got a problem with it, villain?” The hiss made the patchwork villain only recoil an inch backwards before narrowing his pupils at the nickname and gripping the very first thing his eyes land on, your neck, where the surface of his skin was smouldering to the touch.

“I wouldn’t say that if I was in your position.” He proclaimed as the slimming of her lips straightened out to a thin line, “Now, I’m here to offer you a position and…” From somewhere on his body, he pulled a gun- one of the many similar pistols that you hoarded in your apartment for safe keeping- then pointed it straight at your thinly protected heart where the brush of stainless chilled metal tingled the very fabric of your body.

“…it would be wise of you to listen.” Sure, a gun was pointed literally at her chest- lets not forget that she’s being forced into this position of unwillingness- but hopefully, some otherworldly deity will let (y/n) live one more second.

“Okay, good girl?” You’ve never committed to metanoia before, but at this point, you might as well.

#dabi x reader #Dabi lives rent free in my mind #dabi mha #dabi x y/n #Tw: kidnapping mention #Tw: slight nudity #Dabi X prohero! Reader #mha angst #tw: gun mention

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joontier · 4 years

Text

The King’s Guard | Chapter 5

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

rating (chapter): NC-17 | genre: fluff, humor, aNGST

warnings: DRAMA, swearing, slight violence depicting a fight

word count: 5.8k

g/n: HAFLKAJSFKLASFLAKSJFLAPWO. That is all I have to say. Thank you for listening to my TED talk.

The King’s Guard - Masterlist || navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 5

The highly anticipated Chuseok Festival finally arrives – and you can practically feel the thickness of excitement in the air. There’s already a stead beat of the drums from a distance and you can picture the people bustling around, each borne with a task just as significant as the other.

Much to your agitation, your body won’t seem to cooperate with you on the day you need to work the most. You’ve risen early dawn this time with a sick feeling in your stomach, and ever since Chaeyoung caught you throwing up in bed, you hadn’t been able to sleep another wink.

“Call the royal physician,” you order meekly to the worried court lady beside you, messily wiping away the remnants of your state of unwellness this morning. As you shift your position so your back is resting comfortably against the wall, you close your eyes and take deep breaths, praying for your lightheadedness to go away anytime soon.

“Could it be, Jungjeon-mama?” Chaeyoung whispers, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Perhaps, Chaeyoung. Perhaps.”

As the court lady stands up to leave, you grab hold of Chaeyoung’s wrist. “Under no circumstance should you tell anyone of my condition. Please. If they insist, make them work in the kitchen for the entire morning.”

As Chaeyoung quietly exits the hanok, sliding the doors behind her, Jungkook and Yoongi call her attention from the stairs, startling the poor court lady out of her wits. At the surprise, her footing gives way, but Hoseok deftly catches her in his arms. The two lock eyes for the first time since the southerners had arrived in the capitol, and the general finds himself staring at the court lady more than he can admit. Chaeyoung, seemingly just as lost in the general’s eyes, subconsciously gulps as she feels Hoseok’s grip on her waist tighten a little.

Yoongi coughs ultimately bringing the two back to reality. Ever the hopeless romantic, the smile on Jungkook’s face falters, scowling at his brother for ruining the moment, and of course, at his hyung’s incapability to allow people to enjoy themselves even just for a while.

The two abruptly stand up, poorly averting their gazes somewhere else. The general retreats to his place beside the southern king, while Chaeyoung busies herself with smoothing the invisible creases on her dang-jeogori.

“Has the queen risen already?” “Is Jungjeon-mama awake?” The brothers ask in unison, both looking at the court lady expectantly. Chaeyoung is momentarily taken aback by their sudden concern, but is quickly reminded of your strict orders.

“The queen is already awake, but she wishes to be left alone to pray for a little while.” Feeling slightly defeated, the two start to depart from the entrance of your hanok. The court lady, willing to test all of her luck today, thinks of a brilliant idea to get the three to help out with the palace’s very own Chuseok preparations. “She did mention something though, in case you would have been looking for her this morning…” Yoongi looks at her with a raised brow, “Jungjeon-mama requests for your assistance with something.”

Jungkook nods, ready to be of help with anything, especially when it concerns you. Meanwhile, Hoseok looks at Yoongi warily, unsure if his king was willing to do you a favor. “Of course. It’s the least way we can show our gratitude for having welcomed us warmly at the capitol.”

Smiling widely, Chaeyoung bows her head a little to show her thanks, “Very well. Would you all please accompany me to the palace kitchen?”

Thankfully, the royal physician arrives quickly even on such a short notice. Yunho leaves shortly after escorting the visitor, leaving you some privacy with royal physician Kim Taehyung in your room. The usually bright man sets his things on the table beside your bed and pulls a chair next to you.

“Ah, Jungjeon-mama it’s been a while since I last saw you. Tell me, what truly happened that it suddenly warrants my presence in the palace?” Taehyung asks, rummaging through his bag.

“Everything is just fine and dandy, Taehyung. How about you? Have you been well? We haven’t met each in a long time!”

“I believe I should be the one asking questions here, Mama. And if by “fine and dandy” you mean waking up from your slumber just to throw up, then all of my studies would have been put to waste.”

Unable to stop your giggles at his remark, you thank him silently for his visit. The royal physician’s presence always brings such a light mood wherever he may be.

Despite being the only brother of the reserved Kim Namjoon, these two were as close as two peas in a pod even when they have contrasting personalities. While Namjoon was more on the timid side, Taehyung was more playful and cheery – the two siblings polar opposites but it all seems to work out for the better.

The two brothers are distant cousins of Seokjin, hence their inclusion in the higher nobility class who freely visited the capitol’s palace. You hadn’t officially met Taehyung until you were wed to Seokjin but you weren’t a stranger to the stories your husband used to tell you about their notorious trio.

Most of the older court ladies had confirmed their reputations as major headaches while they were still kids growing inside the palace. The three would escape from their assigned guardians of the day, roam the city and would not come back until it’s time to eat, and run off to play one more time.

Adolescence took their time from each other, as this would usually be the time when boys would take lessons and become apprentices of their parents’ choosing. With Seokjin taking significantly different lessons from the other two as heir to the throne, the time they used to spend running away was now dedicated to learning the way of the scholars, swordsmanship, and politics.

“Playing was for kids anyways,” King Seokwoo would say as Seokjin gazed at the other boys his age who were free to do as they pleased. It saddened Seokjin to have let go of his youthful years like that, but with the great guidance of his father, the young man accepted his fate as the next king in line.

“Wangbi, if you don’t mind…I need you to take off your jeogori as I have to check your pulses properly.” With a hand reaching out to the ribbon on your dress but you stop midway as you notice the royal physician still staring at you. You blink owlishly at him, hoping he gets the message. “Oh! Right! Sorry, Mama.” He apologizes sheepishly before turning around to let you undress the outer garment.

You tap him on the shoulder once you’re done and as Taehyung turns around to face you, he looks anywhere but your eyes. “It’s alright, Taehyung. You can…look. I’m not exactly naked after all…” Stating matter-of-factly, you point a finger at your undergarments, still affording you an adequate amount of modesty. Your reassurance only serves to make the awkwardness in the air more palpable. “Sorry, that didn’t help, did it?”

“No, Mama,” he laughs, although admittedly endeared by your concern to make him as comfortable as possible, “But you don’t have to apologize, I am the physician after all and it is my duty to properly check my patients, so I was bound to ask that at some point.”

“Sorry,” you apologize meekly, again, and the both of you burst into peals of laughter. “I will check your pulse now, Mama,” you nod, sitting up straighter.

Taehyung places two of his fingers on your neck, just below your jaw as he checks your pulse. He remains quiet as he transfers them onto your wrist, humming as he observes your pulse one more time. The royal physician takes out a scroll and a brush from his bag and borrows an ink block nearby. Brows furrowed in concentration, Taehyung starts recording his observations.

“I will be asking a few personal questions, Mama. Please do not worry much for only I will be seeing this scroll, and what we have discussed today will only be between you and me – you know, physician and patient confidentiality.” He gives you a warm smile, one you cannot help but return.

“Have you been intimate with the King recently?”

His query definitely throws you off guard, but not because of reasons it ought to be. You’re surprised at how much of the truth his question was going require from you. Needless to say, your acts of unfaithfulness had never struck you as hard as it did today.

You hesitate for a moment, hoping your momentary silence would not be taken wrongly by the royal physician. You decide on answering the physician with half the truth. “Yes.”

“And have you bled during the past full moon?”

“No.” He nods, humming as he continues to write his diagnosis on the scroll. Taehyung pauses as he thinks for a moment, then gets on with jotting down some more. Finally, he takes out two small woven pouches from his bag and hands them to you.

“I need you to pee over these seeds, Mama, as they will determine the truth of your present condition. I will have my apprentice collect them later. I shall be able to conclude the results in a few days’ time, even though I think you and I already both know the answer. For the meantime, I need you to rest and eat plenty, my Queen. You’re going to need it.”

Silence suddenly blankets over the kitchen as Chaeyoung appears with three men behind her who all seem to cower under the unprecedented stare of the ladies in the kitchen.

“Gungnyeonim-dul, please continue with your chores. Jeonha, his general and our captain had come to assist us with the preparations – as recommended by Jungjeon-mama.”

The ladies of the kitchen, with too many tasks at hand and with even less unwillingness to question your orders, curtly bow in greeting to the three before going continuing their chores. Hoseok grimaces inwardly at the sight, knowing very well he’s just going to end up embarrassing himself in the kitchen.

The two brothers, who equally had experience helping their mother in the kitchen, likewise guided by her wise words ‘cooking is a life skill everybody must learn, regardless of gender’ head over to one corner to rinse their hands. Hoseok follows suit after an awkwardly escaping from a staring match with an elderly court lady.

Jungkook spots Haesoo across the room and as the captain sends her a small smile, Haesoo’s cheeks flush, getting shy at the small forbidden interaction. “It seems like everybody already knows what they have to do. Is there anything else we could help with?”

Yoongi speaks up, offering an idea, “This is the perfect time to boast about our city then – as the south makes the best songpyeons in the whole of Korea. Perhaps a southerner’s touch can make the capitol’s better? Not that I’m saying your rice cakes are worse, but…” Yoongi shrugs, raising the cover of a pot to check what’s boiling inside.

“As you wish, jeonha,” Chaeyoung bows, heading over to one of the tables to grab the ingredients needed. “’Least way to show your gratitude’,” Jungkook huffs, mocking his older brother’s words. “Really? By openly telling the cooks their cakes are bad? Inside the kitchen?”

“You and I both know mother’s songpyeons are better even without having to use the fancy ingredients they use here.”

Jungkook sighs in defeat, knowing his brother only spoke the truth. Nothing beats the south’s rice cakes. “Yes, I know. But you really did not have to—” The sound of food falling onto the floor causes everyone to look at culprit who’s holding onto a log used as a cutting board as a shield from an elderly court lady.

“I’m sorry, gungnyeo-nim! Please don’t hurt me!”

The old woman glares at poor Hoseok, who’s still holding onto the cutting board for dear life. “You call yourself a general, yet I’m still better with knives than you.” Hoseok looks at Yoongi, desperate for help, but the king of the south shakes his head as he laughs at his general.

Taehyung offers to walk you to the kitchen as soon as you deem yourself ready to face the day, much to your adamance, and Taehyung’s dismay. You’d caught yourself up with the cheery physician’s life on the way to the kitchen, and as you were laughing at a certain story of his patient Taehyung was animatedly talking about, you notice a crowd of court ladies standing by the entrance of the kitchen.

The physician’s supposed punchline falls into deaf ears when you ask what was going on inside that was enough to have court ladies gather around like this. The court lady you asked won’t even bother to look at you, to engrossed in whatever she was looking at inside. “See for yourself – it’s the captain and the king of the south competing about who can knead the dough better, though I’m pretty sure it’s us ladies who are enjoying it very much,” she says, pouting her lips as she nods to the two inside.

Taehyung holds his laughter in as he sees your confused expression, and tries to see the match for himself. How did they even get here in the first place? What were they doing in the kitchen and what’s with kneading the dough?

As you finally take a peek inside, your mouth drops slightly in shock as you see, lo and behold, Jungkook and Yoongi busy with kneading the dough. But, that’s definitely not what caught everyone else’s attention. The two had taken off their jeogoris, both now left in their sleeveless undergarments, with their sinewy arms on display.

You can’t stop the blood rushing to your cheeks as you catch yourself staring at them – or their arms rather. “Would you excuse me, please,” you call out to the women in front of you who were crowding the front door. “But we’re still-“ the court lady turns to complain, but as soon as she sees you, she immediately kneels. “Jungjeon-mama!” The others hear and soon follow suit.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” You reassure them, understanding where the momentary distraction was coming from. They make way for you, and as you enter, you spot Chaeyoung by a table, likewise watching the competition between the two.

“Chaeyoung,” you call the court lady who immediately bows as she turns to face you. “Please enlighten me how these two got here.”

The young court lady then proceeds to tell you how she managed to coax the two into helping with the Chuseok preparations. From initially having different tasks, they eventually got to do this together instead after so many arguments on which colors should the rice cakes be, what filling should be best inside, court lady Oh suggested they do something that won’t cause any further unhelpful squabbles.

You exhale deeply, already wondering how long this day was going to be.

The first day of Chuseok goes by pretty well, spending the rest of your afternoon, leaving the palace grounds to visit your subjects to wish them a good harvest. Apparently, the competition between the captain and the southern king didn’t end with the dough. The whole time they insisted on joining you as you pay your citizens a visit was also a competition guised as accompaniment.

It’s been a long day and as much as you wanted to relieve yourself of your aching legs from all the walking, you realized you still had a few scrolls to catch up on, so you head to Seokjin’s office to read a few before retiring to your room.

“Jungjeon-mama! Jungjeon-mama!” Astronomer Lee runs as fast as his feet could carry him, running towards your office in stunted breaths. He sees Yoongi coming from the other end of the hanok, bowing briefly in his direction before demanding the royal guards outside your hanok to let him in.

“Her Royal Highness doesn’t want to be disturbed right now.” Two guards bar him from entering the court, using their bodies to stop the anxious astronomer from coming in.

“No! No! Please, it’s an emergency! Jungjeon-mama!”

As you continue your reading, you give one look at Yunho who curtly bows before you before heading outside to check the commotion. As soon as Yunho steps out of the hanok, the astronomer clings onto his arms, frantically tugging at his sleeves.

Worry crosses Yunho’s features, not expecting the astronomer’s arrival at all. Minho would only come visit you only, and only if you called for his presence. He was never one to pay regular visits, nor was he expected to run to court, all the while screaming out your title.

Minho attempts to peek through the doors that were slid open, waving his arms to get your attention. Yunho blocks him promptly, “My sincerest apologies, astronomer Lee, but we are under strict orders of the queen to not let anyone disturb her at the moment.” The guard extends a hand out, placing it on the astronomer’s chest to prevent him from taking another step.

“Let him in,” comes your authoritative voice from inside. With a sigh, Yunho makes way, but not before Minho pushing away the former’s arm harshly from his chest.

Minho, seemingly distraught as ever, calls for you once more before falling on his knees. “Jungjeon-mama…apologies, disturbance…must see…”

“Astronomer Lee, breathe. Please,” Jungkook advises as he nears him, placing a hand on his back. The astronomer shakes his head furiously in reply, despite having difficulty catching his breath.

Likewise taking advantage of the open doors, Yoongi enters with Hoseok quietly, much to Yunho’s dismay. But all eyes and ears are focused on the astronomer right now, whose current state is worrying all around him. The pair of southerners warily watches the astronomer while Jungkook silently eyes his brother sideways, jaw clenching at the unwanted presence of his hyung.

“What brings you to the court, Minho?” Standing up from your seat, you descend slowly down the stairs from the throne. You take the astronomer’s queasiness, getting more anxious at his actions. The usually reserved Minho was never one to take a hurried pace, much less scream your title loud enough from the whole palace to hear in the middle of the day.

He lifts a bag with trembling hands – like the small pouch has demanded from him great effort to carry such a thing. With every moment that passes, trepidation gets heavier inside the room.

“What’s inside the bag?”

Minho opens his mouth to reply, but nothing else comes out but a deep exhale so you nod to Jungkook, signaling him to tell him to check what’s inside. Maintaining your distance, you watch the captain untie the knot, hand dipping inside to feel its contents.

Craning his head to check what’s inside, you instantly see Jungkook hesitate with his actions so you take a step closer, fear slowly gradually taking over your thoughts. He pulls out a garment, a blood-stained blue and pink durumagi in his hands. You’d recognize those clothes anywhere.

Seokjin.

Everything around you seem to stop altogether, including your heart. You snatch the clothes from the captain’s grasp, falling to your knees as you clutch the fabric close to your chest.

Minho’s head falls as you let out a scream that resonates throughout the entire hanok, your cry audible even in the neighboring ones. Hoseok looks away, while Jungkook calls you, reaching out his hand to your knelt position on the floor.

The grief that spreads throughout your body is indescribable, like your heart has been ripped from your chest and crushed right in front of your face. Your vision is blurry and tears are flowing freely down your cheeks. Even with daily prayers and offerings to your ancestors, your worst fear has come true, and at the worst time possible.

Memories of your husband flood your thoughts, all of which end with the vivid image of Seokjin’s lifeless body.

“Leave,” you order weakly, voice muffled against the blood-stained garments of your husband. Nobody moves, undoubtedly shell-shocked at the news. Jungkook notices Yoongi and Hoseok share a look, and the captain balls his fists as he keeps his anger at bay, just knowing these two have something to do with the king’s death.

Your order seems to fall into deaf ears of those in front of you – torn between wanting to reach out and comfort you, but at the same time, also wanting to give you the space you deserve. You don’t give them a choice. “I said leave! All of you, out. Now!”

The guards inside file out one by one first, the two southerners follow after Minho, and Jungkook was the last to leave, looking back at you before sliding the doors closed.

The world seemingly just crashes down on you when you’re finally alone in Seokjin’s office. The weight of his loss brings you bending your body further, closer to the wooden floor. Sobbing with all your might, you yearn for your husband with all the energy left inside you.

Chest heaving as you wipe at your tear-stained cheeks, you head to your husband’s throne on your knees. You don’t even make it to the second step, bursting into another round of tears. With blurry vision, you look up at his chair, imagining he’s seated right in front of you as you call out to him.

You sob, silently pleading him to come back to you, to have him in your arms one last time. “Why did you have to leave me alone like this?” People would assume you’re talking to yourself, but you sure hope Seokjin was listening somehow, someway.

As you bring the garments close to your face, the strong metallic smell of blood hits your senses harshly, but you could care less – desperate to feel the presence of your husband one way or another. “You should’ve listened to me, my love. I already told you they were going to hurt you,” you scold his throne, wishing Seokjin was listening.

‘You told me you wanted to start a family; we could have had as many children as you wanted.’ As you gaze at the inanimate garments of your husband, you force a smile onto your face, yet in mere seconds your features distort into grief once more.

As soon as the rest of the guards and the two southerners leave the room, Jungkook tells Yunho to do his rounds by the western gates. Your attempt to keep your grieving inaudible to those outside the hanok only causes Jungkook’s heart all the more, wishing you had allowed him to stay inside to at least hold you while you cried.

The captain waits until Yunho is out of his sight before trailing after his brother. “You!” Jungkook calls out, surging towards Yoongi. The present king of the south, still unaware of what is, or who is, rather, coming onto him. Hoseok feels someone else’s presence behind them and stops the infuriated captain just in time, blocking Jungkook from hurling himself at the king of the south.

Jungkook doesn’t let the southern general stop him, delivering a punch straight to Hoseok’s face. The older man staggers backwards at the strength. Jungkook jabs at his brother afterwards and throws another, bringing them both to the ground. Hoseok quickly recovers, pulling the captain and his wrath away from Yoongi.

“What the fuck is your problem, Captain?” Hoseok hisses as he touches his now bruising cheek, moving to shield his king as he stares Jungkook down.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you both that? You come here to the palace to…to…” ‘Fuck the only woman I love before my very own eyes.’ The words die in his mouth. Jungkook clears his throat, regaining his composure. “Should I believe that it’s purely coincidence that you arrived here just when Seokjin left the palace because of you?”

Yoongi scoffs loudly, dabbing at the corner of his lips, feeling a wound slowly forming. “Why does everyone actually think we’re the ones responsible for this?” Jungkook gets taken aback, quickly hiding the surprise on his face upon hearing his brother’s words. “What do you mean by that?” the Captain asks, rubbing at his now bruising knuckles.

“What else do you think it means, Captain Jung?”

Hoseok doesn’t mean to interrupt, but the nosy general couldn’t help it – “Jung?! We’re from the same clan? Are you perhaps the son of the infamous Jung Minseok? The same man my King has slain?”

“No, he’s not,” Yoongi answers, giving his brother a knowing look. Jungkook rolls his eyes. Was Yoongi expecting a ‘thank you’ from him for answering his general’s inquiry? “You still haven’t answered my question, southern king,” Jungkook continues, muttering about Yoongi always having to answer in riddles. He was smart, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’d have to regard everyone as a scholar like him.

“I told you to stay in the south, and we could’ve risen to power with no obstacle. Now, I’m guessing you’re not entirely enjoying being the clueless captain now, are you?”

“I am not clueless. I know for a fact that it’s your city that’s causing all this turmoil and you’re here to cover up the fact that you’re the one who killed him. I know, Yoongi, because I also sent someone to check on the king’s troops so—”

“I wasn’t the one who killed him. We may have encountered each other on the way here and I may also have wounded him, but it wasn’t me who killed him.”

“You… and you didn’t even bother…helping him?”

Jungkook immediately regrets his question, wanting to probe the southerners, but unfortunately sounding unintelligent while at it. “I wanted to, but how could I possibly have when we were both attacked?”

“And who would have wanted to attack the two kings of powerful cities at the same time?”

“I am not certain of that fact yet, but I will get to the end of this sooner or later.”

Jungkook stares at him intently, silently pondering on his brother’s words. At this point, he could no longer tell if his brother was bluffing or not. “Why am I supposed to believe you?”

“You know me well, Jeon Jungkook. Lying is not one of my best traits. Especially not to you.”

“Jeon…” whispers Hoseok from the side, connecting the dots together. It couldn’t be. The southern general’s eyes widen in realization – curious orbs darting back and forth between the two. It couldn’t have been possible? Or could it now? Was the Captain of the King’s guards really the lost brother of Yoongi?

Only few people knew of how Yoongi came to be the king of the south, and even fewer people knew that he had a younger brother, one to succeed the throne, lest something happens to the present southern king.

“Wangseje,” Hoseok bows immediately, acknowledging the presence of the southern city’s crown prince.

It’s been a couple of days since the news of your husband’s death, and inevitably, your duty calls for a council meeting for a discussion.

Even before you reach the doors, you already hear the councilmen talking within themselves in hushed voices. These men never learn. They gossip just as much as their nosy wives. Nodding to the guards, they push both panels of the door open at the same time, the sudden noise startling the entire council. They scurry towards their positions and form a straight line to acknowledge your presence.

You walk slowly down the aisle they’ve provided, watching every man in the room, yet not a single member dares to look you in the eyes. You find it strangely hilarious that these men are brave enough to spread rumors about you behind your back, but once you’re in the room, they’re as quiet as the little rats that occasionally pay the palace grounds a visit. Oh, right, you’re still talking about the advisors.

“Jungjeon-mama.” They bow, greeting you in chorus. The head of the royal advisors, Chief Advisor Park steps forward. “Jungjeon-mama, we are saddened by your loss,” he states lowly, bowing from the waist. The rest of the council follow suit. Just your loss? What about the country that had just lost its king? During the most anticipated festival of the year on top of that? What about the citizens who will no longer have a ruler who was ready to sacrifice his life for the sake of their safety? What about the lives of your people that will be put into care of these filthy, lying men?”

“Ah, such a great loss of our country as well, my Queen. King Seokjin was a ruler that will never be forgotten.” The relatively young man adds. You’re thankful that your mourning cap provides you with a fine sheath of silk that covers your face, or else the entire room would have seen your face contorted in anger.

You sigh exasperatedly, albeit quietly. Just the presence of these pompous men already makes you want to retire to bed at once – royal protocols be damned. “Our loyalty and support remain with you during these trying times, Jungjeon-mama.” Their sugar-coated words of encouragement continue, lie after lie after lie. You resist the urge to laugh at their empty statements.

What kind of pathetic fool did they take you for?

The death of your husband might have brought about an immense weight of emotion on your shoulders but your personal sentiments are not to be mistaken as a deterrent from your royal duties. You may be a widowed queen now, but that fact never made you any less of your title.

You start to seriously consider wearing this headwear more than special occasions so you can freely make faces at people who are courageous enough to lie through their teeth in front of you.

“Daebi-mama,” Slightly grimacing at your new title, you tilt your head a little, urging him to continue to voice out his concern. “The news of King’s Seokjin’s passing had not been announced yet, under your orders, but we must address to you the imminent worries if our citizens, Daebi-mama.”

Here it goes, the words determining the wretched fate of women in the country. “As you are well aware, a king’s absence may be seen as a sign of vulnerability – a sign of weakness that has been proven throughout history.” Chief Advisor Park Jimin holds his stare – a look that speaks in volumes. He knows you, out of all people, would know that fact. It is, after all, the incipient cause of your existence.

Even though he has chosen his words with caution so as not to reveal his intended denotation, is he not aware that you can see straight through his words that are dripping with ingenuine concern for your people?

Just as if the rest of the council hear your thoughts, Advisor Kim adds, joining Park “Please do not misunderstand, Mama. We do not wish to contend or question your sitting on the throne…” You swore, if he did not only share your husband’s surname and thus having been regarded as a distant member of Seokjin’s family tree, you would have dismissed this uselessly man from his duties a long time ago. At least you have proof that they are somewhat genuinely related: they both can’t look straight in your eyes when lying.

Advisor Oh joins from the other side of the aisle. Ah, the infamous lying trio. “We worry for your safety too, Jungjeon-mama.” Oh, really now? The rest of the men share murmurs of agreement. Chief Advisor Park adds to the older man’s statement, “If you don’t mind me saying, Mama…we fear the king of the south might be…overstaying his welcome.”

“He won’t be able to do anything anytime soon, and not while I’m still sitting on the throne.”

“Jungjeon-mama, I hope you understand that this is a pressing matter. The country desperately needs a king right now.” Oh adds, getting a few nods from the council. Do these people really comprise the council? Or it’s just three people who brought their coerced worshippers along with them?

“I am well aware of what sort of dishonorable duty this society has imposed upon women, I, of all people would be most knowledgeable on that,” you reiterate your point.

“Unless we have an heir to the throne, my Queen, the city will remain in unrest.” There’s the truth they’ve been itching to tell you. Did they really have to go through all those lies just to get to this point? As Chief Advisor Park takes another step forward, Jungkook moves as well, hand already on hilt of this sword, ready to wield his weapon just in case the former decides to move closer.

Yoongi, who was passing by the court heard your voice, deftly sliding a window slightly open to see you. If he thought you were endearing when you were drunk, there was nothing else compared to his attraction towards you now that you were seated on your husband’s throne.

It’s the only place you were only ever meant to be, nurtured and trained to be the queen, and an even better wife of the king. Too bad it wasn’t him on the throne, yet.

When you raise a hand at the captain, he backs away, fixing his sword back to its scabbard. Park Jimin smirks. “I would be most willing to help you with that, Jungjeon-mama.” At his proposal, you’re unable to control the scoff that escapes your lips.

“That offer would be most tempting, Chief Advisor Park…” the man visibly straightens at your words, a brow raised at your unexpected remark, “perhaps to someone who shares the same degree of desperation as the proposer.”

The rosy tinge of shame fills the man’s cheeks while you hear Jungkook and the other guards behind you suppress their snickers. You are smiling widely as well, and as Park Jimin gets a glimpse of your pearly whites through the fine silk of your headwear, he gives you the cold shoulder and walks back to his row.

Yoongi, enjoying being inconspicuous from outside the hanok beams at you, immersed in the amusement he finds in watching you put these men in their places. Behind the mirth, he knows that the chief advisor was not totally ingenuine with his concern.

It’s the unspoken truth – a kingless city was as vulnerable as a deer in an open space, surrounded by hunters. He had never doubted your prowess once, nor did he question your capability to look after your subjects. But the world was a cruel place and a kingdom without corruption is almost a concept far from reality.

“Nevertheless, the need for an heir is already out of the choices…” Whispers are shared amongst the crowd of men in front of you. Confusion arose from the councilmen at your words. Even with their numerous plots to rise to the throne, you’re still surprised at how they can’t seem to understand simple implications. Taking into consideration their perplexed expressions, you decide to state the obvious.

“Yes. I am pregnant.”

Jungkook and Yoongi look up at you from where they’re stood, just as shocked as the rest of the council.

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#bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #btswritingcafe #btsguild #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #bayanihanboost #jeon jungkook #min yoongi

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inmyutopia · 3 years

Text

When a child grows up in poverty they learn that excess is bad. That outside of necessity any other expenses, is money they could’ve spent on a better meal another day.

When that child grows up and becomes a parent, that way of life stays with them. The financial insecurity never goes away. The child they birthed to raise is passed off to relatives for babysitting and they grind and grind and grind. These relatives can never replace the presence of a parent no matter how “experienced” they are at bringing up children. They are gone the moment the child reaches the age for primary education.

This child then spends their childhood with lack of nurture and guidance. They grow up not knowing the ways of the world and how to behave socially until they are forced to learn when they go to schools, by then it’s too late. Their lack of societal awareness causes them to be disliked, and when they go home, the warmth of a family that greets them is but an empty home. The moment their parents see them all they mention is homework and studies.

They could grow apathetic to others, acting out for attention; or in a way they feel that causes least burdens on their parents, like a toddler that has lost their favourite toy throwing tantrums and raging out in anyway to show their frustration; like a rat on the street laying low and hiding themselves from people’s eyes.

But what does the parent know? They know that a good education can grant their child opportunities to avoid the same life they lead. They only hope to provide for their child so that they would not live out their future lives in insecurity as they themselves do.

This narrow-mindedness costs more then what it can give: frustration, depression, loneliness, insecurity, lack of self-worth, etc. This child grows up seeing all the grinding their parents do and yet that unwillingness to spend that money on “extravagance”, how do you think that makes them feel? When they get told of for something like a soft toy they got for their own comfort, that it’s wasteful and unnecessary use of money. What does that make them think? Something along the lines of “Money is more important than me” or “I need more money from another source because I can’t use my parent’s money”, you see where this is going?

These parents are unintentionally causing the same thing they want their children to avoid: Money hungriness and financial insecurity.

#poverty #writing #thoughts #child rearing #insecurity #does this count as literature?

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slashiest-slasher · 4 years

Note

the slashers reacting to swapping bodies with their s/o???

yaaayy my first new prompt done since coming back~! ೕ(⁍̴̀◊⁍̴́ฅ) i didn’t do freddy bc he’s been a troublesome muse to reign in but here you go!!

under cut bc i went off with this prompt, and it gets a little spicy, but nothing explicit

Michael Myers

- Waking up to staring at his own face isn’t exactly how he expected to spend his day. In fact, he was planning on going out to kill some people. But when he looks in the mirror, he finds /your/ face staring back at him. Which, like, isn’t ideal.

- You aren’t that much shorter than him, if at all (homie is 5'10’’, /which is a perfectly average height for a man in America, thank you very much/) So it isn’t all to much of an adjustment, but he still demands to wear his own clothes, so you get to watch him, frustrated, having to cuff the sleeves and pantlegs, and wear your boots because it’s your size 9 vs his size 11.

- Michael does put the mask on first and foremost. It’s a psychological and comfort thing, wearing the mask. If he’s wearing a mask, he can be alive, he can kill.

- He gets pretty pouty when you tell him (and God does he hate you using his voice, it’s been 17 years since hes said anything) that no, he’s not going out and killing until they fix this situation. You don’t know what’s up, but the last thing you want is for the police to catch him only to find you.

- Sufficed to say, Michael is not at all happy about anything. You walking around in his body without his mask on? Not a fan. He doesn’t like seeing his own face. You being so weak? He tried pushing you aside when you were body blocking him from going aside and it did /nothing/.

- Not a fan of you picking him up either. It’s the only chance you’ll get, and when he’s being petulant, you abuse that power. He’s just generally angry with everything you do in his body. But nothing tops when you left to go grocery shopping without telling him.

- Loomis had taken it upon himself to get a closer residence to town because of his mysterious disappearance, and all the killings in nearby towns. Which means when you catch sight of him in the grocery store, you have to drop everything and run. You resolve to order pizza and takeout until everything rights itself.

- (And Loomis swears he sees Michael without his mask, which is perplexing and concerning, so he follows the fleeing figure. He is certain that Michael “coma like for 15 years, rarely walking faster than a brisk walk” Myers is sprinting through the parking lot and speeding away in a car. He can’t prove it, but he knows!!)

- Killing people in a different body doesn’t stop Michael. It just gives him a bit of a challenge. He can’t just use outright strength since YOU can’t even pick up a fully grown man on a good day. So when a would be thief breaks in, and his stab to the spine does jack shit, he has to jump on their back to garrote them with a phone wire while they try shaking them off.

- So when you come home, the living room is COMPLETELY wrecked, and Michael is struggling to drag a body away. You just sigh and heave them over your shoulder and bring them to the basement until you can figure out what to do with them.

- Michael is completely off physical affection until he’s back in his own body. Kissing himself is just… it’s a weird thing to do. But he does play with you - himself, whatever, both sexually and non-sexually. He normally doesn’t bother taking a close look at your body, so he takes this as a chance to.

- When you guys are FINALLY back in your own bodies, he immediately takes his mask back, and acts like nothing happened. Except he deigns himself to use his strength against you a lot more often, including picking you up whenever he damn well feels like it.

Jason Voorhees

- Hmmm, when he first wakes up he panics at first. First, he thinks you might have taken his mask off while you were asleep, because he can see just fine out of both eyes, then at the giant figure in bed with you nowhere to be found. I mean, he’s a pretty beefy boy, so if there’s someone bigger than him in bed, and you’re gone, he immediately gets up and panics, reaching for his machete.

- But his hand! It’s tiny! Why is his hand so small now? He completely ignores whoever was in bed to look in the mirror (which he has to use the step stool, like you typically do, to reach), and *gasp*, his face is completely normal! He’s so confused, thinking it’s a dream until he realizes the face in the mirror is /yours/.

- And that figure in the bed? Taking a better look at them, he realizes that it’s him! That’s his mask, the same scars on his body, the same clothes he wears. He wastes no time in waking you up.

- Unlike Michael, his inability to talk is a mixture of speech impediments, thrashed vocal cords from nearly drowning, and an unwillingness to talk. So he talks a little bit in your body, but not much. He’s not really a fan of you trying to speak while in his body either, but communication is so much easier this way.

- He has no problem wearing your clothes at all, but chooses to wear jeans, and a sweater not unlike the one his mother used to wear. He has the urge to wear his mask, but realizes he has nothing to hide (not that he would want to hide your beautiful face anyways).

- Jason begs you to keep his mask on, and to try not to take a peek at his face. Which you completely respect, but that doesn’t stop you from inspecting the rest of his body. He can’t really blame you too much, but he gets flustered and embarrassed when he catches you.

- He, as well, isn’t not used to or a fan of not being as strong as he normally is. He tries to go and chop some firewood, and doesn’t even get the axe halfway through the log, let alone dislodge it. He gets a bit upset about that bit.

- And he really despises finding people in the camp, so when a couple’s car breaks down nearby, he’s fully ready for them to freak out when he comes to kill them. But what he isn’t ready for is them not freaking out at the sight of a large, hulking man carrying a machete until he remembers.

- It’s weird helping people out instead of killing them, but he figures this is what you would do. Not like he could kill them even if he wanted to in this body. They’d overwhelm him the moment he landed a slash with his machete, and no matter how much he wants to kill them, he holds himself back until they’re driving away.

- But when he gets home, he finds you gleefully chopping the fire wood and carrying logs around. He honestly finds it how cute you get at using your newfound strength.

- He also doesn’t complain much when you scoop him up in your arms, because no one has done that since his other would when he was a little boy, so even though it’s his body he’s hugging and hiding his face against.

- Jason is always nervous about being intimate with you. It’s taken a long time before he even let you two share a bed, and has only just gotten around to touching each other’s bodies. And this is no exception, and he wonders how you aren’t scared of someone so big!!!!

- He’ll just stick with kissing and cuddling, thanks.

- Speaking of which, you finally get your first proper kiss, since you can’t exactly see his face when he removes the mask. And even though that’s his own body he’s kissing, he gets addicted to it. Can’t get enough of you completely enveloping him.

- When you finally return to your own bodies, he still isn’t comfortable enough to let you see his face, but he can’t go back to not having kisses, so he will indulge in kissy time, but ONLY if he’s wearing his sack mask rolled up. If he trusts you a bit more, then with the mask off but you blindfolded.

Leatherface

- Baby boy also gets extremely confused when he wakes up with someone much, much bigger than him wrapped around him, but when he looks back it’s him! That’s /his/ sleeping mask. And when he reaches up to touch his own face, he finds nothing but smooth, unmarred skin.

- Home boy immediately jumps to pulling a mask - any mask - over his face. He ends up grabbing his old lady mask, but regardless of which one he grabbed, they’re all huge on your comparatively head.

- His inability to speak, and desire to wear mask, are pure psychological. Without any of his mask, he’s just a blank slate with no personality, and his inability to speak comes from not being taught to speak and developmental delays. So it’s certainly disconcerting when you wake up to Bubba squealing, but in your voice.

- Bubba has no issue wearing your clothes either, but he insists on wearing his apron and mask regardless. He doesn’t really care what you do or don’t wear, but oh boy does it throw Drayton for a loop when you come down the stairs not wearing a mask.

- And it gives him a bigger shock when you speak with Bubba’s voice, as croaky and unused to forming words as it is. He’s used to Bubba being on the emotional extremes of gleeful, angry, and sorrowful, mixed in with his obedience, so your sarcasm and sharp tongue come out of nowhere.

- Until this whole mess is sorted out, Bubba’s stuck on house duty, Nubbin’s doing all the killing and hauling bodies, and you, with your glorious strength, get to pick up the slack with the more physically intensive chores.

- Bubba is downright morose when he struggles to hold his chainsaw, or swing it with any accuracy. But oh boy watching you… it may be his body, but it’s not like he can’t admire how well you use it.

- And if it weren’t for him being in your body, it would have been down right adorable to watch him sprint after a victim size appropriate hammer, squealing.

- Drayton tries to get you to do some killing (“on account of you having the brains and brawn”, but he learned his lesson about trying to push you around like he does Bubba (and you when you’re smaller) when you hanged him on one of the meat hooks by his belt.

- Bubba is absolutely tinkled pink when you pick him up and carry him around. He became a hefty boy when he was fairly young, and after mother and grandma/great-grandma passed away, all that was left was Drayton, Nubbins, and grandpa, and it’s not like any of them were going to pick up a chunky toddler of their own free will.

- Even if they all believed that Bubba was the cutest kid.

- Bubba wraps his arms tightly around your neck and is squealing happily the entire time you have him in your arms. Drayton doesn’t know if he has ever seen Bubba this happy, outside of the time when you finally agreed to go steady with him.

- Intimacy isn’t really an issue for him, though he finally understands why you were so intimidated at first when you two first got intimate. But you know how to use body and he has no complaints. Bby boy likes being submissive and now’s his chance to TRULY be completely under your power.

- When you two find yourselves back in your own bodies, everyone is relieved. Because now Bubba can properly protect everyone (not that you couldn’t in his body, but not being able to do anything made him anxious). If anything, this endeavor only strengthened the bond between you and the Sawyers.

#michael myers #jason voorhees #leatherface #Friday the 13th #texas chainsaw massacre #shape hc #jason hc #cannibal hc

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thelittlehansy · 4 years

Text

Narcissism in the westregraad family part 2

so now lets talk about something else i m gonna also add another list of few others symptoms ( this is also a summary of what is say before) and put at each time a sentence from the king in a frozen heart ! yes ! Hans father because him he really does show them a lot and this is crazy because he only has 2 or 3 chapters XD

Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

“westergaard are lion”

Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

“dont disappoint me….again !” the king is not indifferent ! he ask hans to makes him proud of him.. notice also that hans dont say my dad dont care about me but he hates me.

about the prince of the southern isles“after each well placed jab , they would look to their father eager to gain his approval even at the expense of their youngest brother. this behavior from his sons dont bother the king on the contrary.

fand there is also one of the twin father dont like little mices dont you father ? rudi then looked at the king after what he said.

Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

Exaggerate achievements and talents

Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate

Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people

this four traits are illustrated again by “ the Westergaard are lions not mices” he is a lion because he is a westergaard , the lion is not any animals but the king of the animals ( lion king 😜) and are symbol of strength he reject hans because to him he dont act like one and feel superior and therefore this is their right him and his son to mock him.

Monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior

about the king and the heir :“the two men where engrossed in each others blatantly ignoring the woman at their sides. the queen hans’s mother didn’t seem bothered by it she was after all use to it after nearly thirty years of marriage.””you should apologize to your mother she is after all the only one who would have noticed you were missing” the king to his last son.

Expect special favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations

“ his father has request his presence and when the king made a request , you did whatever was asked.

Take advantage of others to get what they want

after asking if he could help his father in order to have his trust and go in arendelle. ( hans didn’t reveal him his intentions) the king took advantages of son during three years. after these three years the king still don trust Hans.

“it has taken three years to convince the king” “ all the begging , pleading and generally making himself a lapdog to his father (..) would pay off” after giving hans is authorization “ when the gates close return home immediatly” and “ i m sure they will have a need for you in the nursery”

Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others

the king is working hans entered in his study “ i dont have any time listen to you whine about your brothers beings bullies again” so basically this is how the king felt about hans being abuse by his siblings.

the king dont care about his wife on her own anniversary.

like his sons when they act like how he wants them to act.

Behave in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious

No quote but this one is obvious by his behavior in the few chapter.

Become impatient or angry when they don’t receive special treatment

Have significant interpersonal problems and easily feel slighted“

““there is a villager on the third isles , iv been told he has been saying rather well unsavory things about me , i can’t have my own people talking behind my back it isn’t good politic i would like you to go and speak to him make it clear he is doing himself no favor by getting on my bad side”“ then i expect you to make him liste one way or another” the king after Hans propose to help him.

again everyone should obey to the king if not he is gonna be mad.

React with rage or contempt and try to belittle the other person to make themselves appear superior

again: “ you should apologize to your mother she is after all the only one who would have noticed you were missing” the king to his last son.“ maybe you could learn a thing or two from them if you stopped acting like you were better than them”“i dont have any time listen to you whine about you brothers beings bullies again”“to the point hans , always just get to the point he would say whenever he deemed hans stayed too long in his presence”.

Have difficulty regulating emotions and behavior

hans deciding to leave his mother birthday after being mock and throw bread at him “ he didn’t care if his father would be mad later it wast worth the torment to sit through any more of this assault “so its imply the king is gonna be mad because Hans has run away from his mother anniversary because he was getting bully.

Edit : i didnt mention it but the king of the southern isles is view by hans to be scarier than marshmallow when he is angry

So well serious anger issues mr.westergaard 😅

the king of the southern isles him show strong narcissist tendencies in a few chapters that we can say its highly possible he is a full narcissist.

In the website tv tropes it is say he is one also survival of the fittest the king motto is the excuse used often by narcissist

#prince hans #hans #frozen #disney #the king of the southern isles

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ocfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Gon…

“Cassie!” Said female didn’t even move as the one calling her bolted into the room before she could even respond to him. She smiled at his appearance in the room, his eyes were sparkling as he spoke.

“I put Gitta to sleep!” Gitta, their one year old baby, one who Gon had no luck with especially after her birth. Cassie giggled and stood up to hug him.

“Good job! I told you you could do it if you just tried.” Gon chuckled.

“Yeah, you were right!” Cassie giggled when she felt herself being lifted and sat back down in the chair. She looked up to Gon who now sat in front of her. “I’ll come to you next time, you shouldn’t walk so much.” Cassie sighed and leaned back closing her eyes.

“You would think that even after I had Gitta and am now going to have this one that you’d trust me to move around more.” Gon chuckled awkwardly.

“Well, Leorio told me not to let you move around too much as you can put stress on you and the baby. I don’t really want either of you hurt!” Cassie nodded.

“At least I can depend on you to protect us when I’m not really paying attention.” Gon smiled at her.

“Say, what do you wanna name this one?” Gon asked. Cassie shrugged.

“Not sure, maybe something with a C since she got to be named after you maybe this one should be named after me. Especially if it’s a boy that’ll be perfect!” Gon nodded and thought really hard about that, it was then he heard the door shutting. Cassie leaned over looking into the hallway of her house seeing the familiar pale hair of Gon’s best friend.

“I figured you two would be here.” Gon got up.

“Killua, what’s a good name that starts with a C?” He shrugged walking over to Cassie and Gon and sitting down in front of Cassie and next to Gon.

“…Chris?” Cassie gave him a certain look.

“Something that you haven't heard a billion times?” He chuckled.

“There’s not that many guy’s names that start with C that aren't overdone, you’re better off naming is something like those little mini Nen guys you have.” Cassie gasped.

“Oh, I almost forgot, I make up names for a living, woops.” Killua sighed.

“So how’s Gitta?” Cassie put her hands together.

“Gon was able to get her to sleep all on his own.” Gon chuckled.

“Yeah, she kicked me a few times, but she must have gotten tired since she didn’t put up much of a fight the last time.” Killua chuckled.

“She sounds like you already.” Gon chuckled awkwardly.

“She even looks like him, I’m sure pretty soon she’ll be asking me about becoming a hunter.” Cassie groaned. “That’s just a headache waiting to happen.” Gon smiled.

“Well, I’m sure if I wanna be like Ging and-” Suddenly Gon was smacked in face sending him out into the backyard of their house, Killua gulped seeing what had hit him. Ren rubbed his knuckles as he now stood behind Cassie, he was rocking her in her rocking chair. Just then a Quana came out going to Gon.

“Gon, sweetheart, what did I tell you about mentioning your father in the presence of me or our children?” Gon got back up and rubbed his now red cheek.

“Wow Ren, how much Nen did you put into the punch?” He chuckled to Killua’s question.

“Well, it was Cassie’s anger, so a normal person probably would have died even where I hit him at.” Cassie sighed.

“I wouldn’t have to hit him if he just listened to me for once.” Killua looked to Gon seeing him running back to the house.

“Wait Gon doesn’t listen to you?” He said with sarcasm laced in his voice. Cassie glared at Killua, he chuckled. “He always listens to people and trusts way too easily, so what’s the problem now?” Gon sighed as he finally got back to the house.

“Well, it’s just that Cassie didn’t meet Ging after you and Alluka left, she denied meeting him saying-”

What kind of father doesn’t want to meet his son! His son who he wasted time making and caring for, then just he abandons him and even sends death-row inmates that may or may not kill him, as a test or a damn joke!

“Then she stormed off saying when I was finished to come and get her. Oh and she also told me to pass a message to my dad, telling him that if he ever wants to meet her or they run into one another she won’t hesitate to kill him. He took it kind of nicely though!” They could feel Cassie’s anger filled Nen flowing off of her.

“Stupid old bastard.” Killua chuckled.

“Well, at least you can say Gon won’t wind up like Ging.” Cassie shook her head.

“No, Gon told me that once Gitta was old enough, he was thinking of leaving to do better things and explore…” Killua grunted.

“What?”

“She understood my reasons though! I can’t stay tied down to one place for very long.” He nodded.

“I’ll agree with that.” Killua looked to Cassie. “So you’re okay with that?” Cassie nodded.

“Of course, I mean I can’t say much that’ll keep him here with me, but as long as Gon is happy I should be too right?” Killua grunted not thinking that to be the healthiest mindset, but he couldn’t speak for anyone here and said nothing on the topic.

Killua decided to stay over, Cassie had cooked for them saying that it was her turn to cook since Gon was alternating between her weekly, she’d only get one day during the week so it wasn’t much of an alternate. They did as they did before, but instead of Cassie learning new techniques she let Ren teach and test their strength against him. She smiled to them all, all the while rocking with her baby in arms. Soon they all tired themselves out and they went to bed, Killua slept in their guest room leaving the door open, as Cassie and Gon went to their bedroom. Cassie shifted awkwardly in the bed and moved to get up, trying to be wary of Gon next to her, she got out of his grasp and looked out the window. She felt her face cool as the wind cooled down the hot tears streaming down her face. She kept in her sobs with her hands when she heard Gon shifting in the bed.

“Cassie? Why are you up? Do you have to throw up?” She felt herself tearing up more, she’d miss his unwillingness to say anything normal about her abnormalities; but she tried to tough it out to show Gon she didn’t really mind him leaving her after their second child was born. Only eight more months of him being around…

“No, Gon I’m fine.” And he’d be gone.

“You sure? You were sleeping pretty okay, I made sure to keep you warm and comfortable, since you like that and all.” His voice began to trail off. Eight more months and he’d be gone. “Common, let’s just go back to bed… Unless you sense someone nearby?” Cassie lowered her head. He’d be gone.

“No it’s nothing of the sort…” Gon whined, she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“Then what’s wrong?” Eight months…. He’d be gone… Gone… Eight months. Her sobs came out no matter how hard she tried to hold them back. Gon noticed this and grunted moving in front of her, Cassie fell to her knees and Gon dropped as well.

“Cassie! Why are you crying?” She shook her head unable to respond. “Cassie, you don’t have to cry. You never cry!” She looked up to him.

“I do when it’s about someone I love!” Gon stared at her. “All this time, ever since I was a little girl I always dreamed of having a family that was nothing like the one I was stuck with, and when I was able to get that, it just turned back and became worse then my old family! I’d be stuck alone all over again and have no say in any of it!” She broke from his grasp. “I know you can’t stay still, if I didn’t have Gitta I probably wouldn't be here either, but I have her so I have to. I won’t leave my children the way my parents left me, alone and confused. Wondering if they even cared enough to deal with me anymore! You know this and didn’t even think about it! How could you!” She choked on her sobs.

“Cassie…” He didn’t say anymore and hugged her tightly. Cassie gasped and moved closer running her hands through his hair.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that, I- '' Gon pulled back staring into her eyes.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter, you feel a lot lighter now.” A lot of what he said didn’t make sense, but she got what he was saying. Gon smiled brightly at her. “I wasn’t going to leave right away, and when I left I wanted you to come with me. We can take Gitta and him or her with us and they can train that way! Just like how we trained and learned everything.” Cassie stared at Gon. “I kind of just didn’t know how to tell you. I figured that you would tell me ‘no, saying that you wouldn’t want our kids to get in the danger we got into’ so I didn’t tell you.” Cassie stared at him before closing her eyes, she shook her head and tackled Gon on the floor, he grunted and quickly turned them to where she rested on her side, Cassie buried her face in his chest.

“Gon! Y-you idiot! Of course I’d say yes!” Gon smiled and rubbed her head.

“Let’s stay together… Forever.”

#hxh #hunterxhunter #hxh oc #hxh gon #gon #fanfiction #fanfic

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winterverses · 5 years

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Walking Wounded - Chapter Seventy-Five

Content Warning: Discussion of violence.

The aircar zoomed toward Justice, bobbing and weaving through traffic in a way that reminded Kirk of games back at the Academy. Starships were so much slower, even shuttles-- sure, maybe it was just that they felt that way, but between the shields and the navigation systems there was almost never a situation where you needed the kind of reaction time that you had to have to pilot an aircar. The closest situation he’d come to needing those kinds of reflexes was when they’d first encountered the drones, and still, that had been nothing like the split second timing that this driver had. Come to think of it, it was the same driver from that first day back on Yorktown.

“Ugh. Remind me why I ever thought giving an interview was a good idea,” Anne said, scrolling through the article.

“What? They get something wrong?” Kirk asked, looking away from the window and trying to skim what he saw on the screen. “Slow down, you’re going too fast for me.”

She slowed enough that he could read as well. “Nothing wrong, just… ugh. I hate feeling like my life is being dissected all over the place. Look how many times it’s been read already.”

Kirk began to read at random, in the middle of a passage.

‘It’s easy to tell just how much their experiences have affected their relationship. Captain Kirk’s rakish grin and confident air fade a little the moment Ms. Hardesty begins to look troubled, turning fiercely protective, no matter how casually he plays it off. She, in turn, makes no secret of how much his presence comforts her, and her voice hardly wavers so long as his arm is around her, even when giving what details she can of her quite frankly horrific experiences.

That’s not to say that their relationship has been only beneficial for them; though they couldn’t comment on the exact circumstances, they’ve dealt with some serious injuries, the causes rooted in Ms. Hardesty’s devotion and Captain Kirk’s protective impulses. The worst of these injuries were ones they weren’t even free to talk about, citing their unreliability as witnesses where the other is concerned and their unwillingness to jeopardize their upcoming court case. Only the circumstances surrounding the event itself could be detailed, and there is no better or more succinct way to put it than in the Captain’s own words:

“Anne gets dragged away from the side of one of my senior officers, I rush to get the ship there in time and go haring off after her… and when we come out of that room, my guts are hanging out, and she’s almost lost an eye, her mind, and still doesn’t even remember who I am.”

One can hardly help but question the circumstances; would this have turned out the same had their feelings not been a factor?’

“It’s bullshit, gorgeous. Don’t bother yourself over it.” Kirk went to blank the screen.

“Don’t,” Anne said, batting at his hand in irritation.

Fine, okay. He settled back into his seat, looking out the window again, until the next time she muttered something under her breath. “If it’s going to bother you that much, just shut it off,” he said, a little irritated himself.

She registered that irritation, because she stilled, then leaned on him. “I’m sorry. I just can’t look away. And it’s not like not reading it will be any better.”

Immediately, he felt like an ass. Of course she wouldn’t be able to help wanting to read it. She’d never seen herself through the lens of someone else’s writing before. Her writing, sure, but she’d always been careful to stay out of the public eye. He hadn’t been able to put down the first article he’d ever been interviewed for back when he’d first taken command of the Enterprise, even though it had eviscerated him for not getting to Vulcan in time as much as lauded him for saving Earth. And she was right-- if she wasn’t getting upset by the article, she’d just be getting upset over something far closer, and with a lot better and more concrete reasons. “No, it’s my fault. It’s weird seeing yourself like that, I know. Go on ahead and read it, and if you find anything really awful about it, let me know.”

“The worst thing so far is the craftsmanship,” Anne grumbled. “Really, trying to maintain a neutral voice by using ‘one’ as a substitute for ‘I’ is shoddy. I see why she’s done it, but for heaven’s sake, there are better ways of skinning that particular cat. Learn to use your words to better effect.”

Okay, he couldn’t help a laugh at Anne’s sneering. He kept it quiet, though. “What’s more irritating, the subject matter, or the way it’s written?”

Anne turned to look at him incredulously. “The way it’s written, of course,” she said, then looked thoughtful. “Maybe I should give the girl some advice.”

“I can’t think of a better way to guarantee we get a much less flattering article next time,” Kirk said, throwing his arm over Anne’s shoulders. He was glad of that in a moment, when the aircar started to plummet, not that they felt it. It just meant they were at Justice, and Anne knew that. She inched up even closer to him and blanked the screen, her body tensing. “It’ll be all right,” he said, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I’d better be, or Claudia will have someone’s head for all that wasted work,” Anne said dryly.

“I’ll let her take point on that one. Mainly because I think she’d do a better job of beheading someone than I would. She’s probably had more practice,” he deadpanned.

He couldn’t tell whether Anne was just playing along or whether she actually thought that was plausible when she replied. Hell, come to think of it, it was pretty plausible. “I’ll have to ask her about her time in med school. That seems like the most likely setting for a beheading, and I’ve always wanted to know the specific physical sensations involved. For verisimilitude, of course.”

The aircar came to a stop before the Justice building, and Kirk said, “1600 in front of the lower deck entrances, right?”

“1500, sir,” the driver said.

Kirk gave the guy a half grin. “Just checking.” The driver lifted a hand in response.

The crowd outside was, if anything, bigger than the one before. He suspected that article hadn’t helped things any, not with those women still feeding information to the press. Anne had been right about what she’d said, though-- if they left by a route they hadn’t previously been seen to use, they probably wouldn’t have to deal with the crowd on their way out. And then they could just wait out the press until the last trial was over. “All right, gorgeous. Stick close to me and don’t let go,” Kirk said.

Anne’s face was even paler than usual, but her mouth was set in a determined line, and she nodded. Kirk opened the door and stepped out, reaching back for Anne’s hand and tucking it in the crook of his arm as she exited the car behind him. The door slid shut, but by that time they were already walking, dodging reporters, Kirk breaking a path and Anne following behind. About three quarters of the way to the door, he felt a sudden jerk on his arm and heard Anne yelp. He immediately saw red, whirling to find Anne grabbing for his arm, looking behind her. He caught her seeking hand instead, yanking her toward him in a way that could have made someone with worse balance stumble; even in stiletto heels, she was barely fazed by it, her shoulder lightly smacking against his side as she skidded to a halt. Kirk immediately wrapped his arm around her waist, picking up his pace. “Did you see who did that?” he asked over the rising tumult of sound around them.

“No, but he won’t be walking very easily,” Anne said, rubbing at her bare arm. Red marks from the guy’s fingers were slowly fading. “I wore these heels for a reason.”

Kirk pulled out his communicator just as he saw a few members of his senior staff directing officers in the Starbase uniform to come and meet them. Immediately, he holstered it, beckoning two of the officers to him as he and Anne were surrounded by the rest. “You, and you, search the crowd. Whoever did that will be limping. Find him, and hold him on my authority. Notify me immediately.” The officers acknowledged and hurried past. “If they don’t find him, I want the surveillance clip from that timestamp examined until a positive ID can be made,” Kirk said, directing his order to the ranking officer.

“Are you planning to press charges, sir? I mean, ma’am?”

Kirk looked down at Anne. She looked shaken and sick, but not so upset that she was about to call this thing off. He almost wished that she was. “Yes,” she said. She tried to grin, but it was just a shadow of its normal brilliance. “Provided that someone who specializes in law can be found somewhere around here.”

“Federation Justice has several dozen representatives on hand at any given moment, ma’am,” the Lieutenant said earnestly. Kirk and Anne just looked at each other and then kept walking. To his credit, when the Lieutenant received no reply he seemed to catch on, looking a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said as they reached Uhura, Spock, McCoy, and Hayes.

“It’s all right. I’m afraid my wit isn’t at its best when I’m nervous,” Anne said, flashing a more natural looking grin at the Lieutenant, who gave her a tentative smile back.

“I’ll make sure that footage gets reviewed, Captain, ma’am,” the Lieutenant said.

“While you’re at it, you can tell Commodore Paris that we want a dedicated escort any time those women know where you are,” Hayes said. “This is really ridiculous. It was ridiculous last time and it’s even more ridiculous now.”

“While Medical gets a certain amount of leeway, the rest of us have to follow the established chain of command, Lieutenant Commander Hayes,” Kirk said pointedly. “I’ll take it up with Commodore Paris while I wait.”

“You’d better--”

“I’ll hold him to it, Dr. Hayes,” Uhura said.

“Good,” Hayes said. Then they were past the doors, and the din seemed to press closer in. The crowd was more orderly, however, with officers clearing a path and keeping the press well back. Kirk kept his arm around Anne’s waist, though, deciding that he didn’t particularly care about looking unprofessional at the moment. As soon as they were in the elevator, however, Hayes practically shoved him aside, looking Anne over, checking the arm the man had grabbed. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“No, he just grabbed me,” Anne said, holding out her wrist so that Hayes could take her pulse. “It frightened me, that’s all.”

“I’ll have to run it by our judges, but I’ll try to get you a dose of anxiolytic before we start. Don’t you even open your mouth,” she said, cutting Anne off before she could say anything. “This cannot be called normal anxiety considering your recent experiences, and it could mean the difference between being able to go through with this and just suffering all the collateral damage while not actually being far enough under to get anything done.”

“If it means only going through with this once, I’m all for it,” Kirk said. “Any chance you can triple that dosage?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Hayes said. “Truth serums don’t exist, or at least, not in the sense of being unable to lie. The drugs we have depend on both lowering inhibition, and creating fear. It’s a balancing act, and if she has too much of the anxiolytic, it could inhibit the effects of one or both of the other drugs.”

No wonder Anne had avoided the topic so thoroughly in conversation with him. She had to have known he’d hate that. “Can’t we just get a brain scan done and--”

“No,” Anne broke in, her voice as thin and sharp as a blade. As Kirk opened his mouth to question, she interrupted him again. “I don’t want my brain on file, not even with Starfleet. It’s not an option.”

Between the set of her mouth and her serious eyes, Kirk knew better than to question further-- at least not right now, anyway. “What happens if they don’t think you’re telling the truth?”

Claudia answered him instead. “The normal process is that they’ll go through it a few times, at incrementally increasing dosages. I’ve been lobbying to try to get them to settle for one or two passes. It averages four, though. Never more than six. After six, you run the risk of self-harm even in restraints, unrecoverable mental damage, and cardiac events.”

Now he understood. She’d tortured the other women. It probably seemed only fair. Before Kirk could decide whether to call her on it, Spock broke in. “May I remind you, Captain, that I will be immediately available throughout and if Anne is too strongly affected, I will do whatever is in my power to mitigate her distress.”

Kirk almost spoke, then did a double-take. Spock had used her first name. He glanced over at Uhura, who just shrugged. “Thank you, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said. It was almost enough to take the edge off what Hayes had said.

“I’ll be fine, mon étoile,” Anne said softly, shaking off Hayes’ hand and stepping back up against his side. “Whatever they do, it can’t possibly be as bad as what has already been done, and I’ve recovered well enough from that.”

McCoy snorted, but didn’t speak. The turbolift doors slid open and they filed out, following Hayes, who seemed to know where she was going. As they did, Kirk looked down at Anne. “Your accent says you aren’t as calm about it as you’d like to be,” Kirk said, pulling her close. Damn, it was weird having her so tall. Well, relatively speaking. Her eyes were about level with his chin.

“And the polite thing would have been to ignore that,” Anne said, regarding him with a small frown. Regardless, she pressed into him, her body taut against his.

Kirk slid his arm back around her waist. With those shoes on, she was just a bit too tall for his arm to rest easily across her shoulders. “Maybe we should just give Sulu our apologies now,” Kirk said, studying her face.

“No. At the very least, we can go and say hello while we pick up dinner. Ben promised he was going to make me chòudòufu.” At his questioning look, Anne grinned. “Well, it was really more of a threat. Stinky tofu.”

Kirk sighed. “This is restaurant humor, isn’t it? Like telling Scotty you ejected a warp core while running maintenance on the cylinders or something.”

“Yes, mon étoile. I would never surprise you with something that… particular. No natto, no durian, no chòudòufu… Well, maybe natto. If you can eat gagh, texture certainly isn’t an issue.”

“Should you ever decide to make chòudòufu, I would be interested to try it,” Spock said, and Kirk couldn’t tell whether he was serious or not. “I find many human dishes to be lacking in flavor, perhaps due to my biology.”

“There’s nothing markedly different about your sense of taste,” Hayes said. “You’re better at handling capsaicin because of your higher pain tolerance.”

“He’s just a closet gourmand,” McCoy grumbled. “Tries to explain away his daredevil tastes by blaming it on being Vulcan.”

“I apologize, Spock,” Anne said, looking genuinely sorry. “It takes several months to make properly. Ben doesn’t have any either-- I would know, because I would have smelled it in their apartment by now. Even air scrubbers can’t get rid of that smell. I very much doubt you can get it on Yorktown at all, and it’s an absolute certainty that it isn’t on the synth logs.” She paused, thinking.

“Oh no you don’t,” Kirk said. “If it’s that bad, the last thing I want is for people to be able to synthesize it on extremely lengthy deep space missions. That would be like weaponizing the synthesizer.”

“It occurs to me that it could be to our advantage to be able to synthesize a potentially objectionable form of human food, Captain. Most specifically in diplomatic capacities.”

Kirk was tempted for a moment, but eventually shook his head. “In this case, I think the cost would outweigh the benefits, Mr. Spock.”

“Here we are,” Hayes said, stopping at one of the nondescript doors lining the hallway. “Now, Captain, you’ll be allowed to sit nearby, but not within arm’s reach. Leonard and I will be right there, so you don’t need to worry. If anything starts to look odd to me, I’ll call a halt.”

“Have you ever sat in on something like this before?” Kirk asked.

Hayes nodded. “And worked with people who have been through it. That’s where I developed the technique I used with Anne, among others.”

That, at least, was comforting. Hayes had been a stroke of luck in so many different ways. Kirk knew he should have at least tried to appear professional, but letting Anne go before he had to was just not going to happen. They walked into the lab, the others following behind.

Padded restraints. Barbaric. The examination table looked like a relic from another century. Vice-Admiral Landau glanced up from his padd as they stepped into the room, his lips thinning in a humorless smile. Councilor V’nula and Councilor Andrews looked on impassively as he spoke. “Good. I was notified that there was some trouble at the entry, but you seem sound enough.”

Claudia immediately sailed into her request for something to calm Anne, pulling up research and specific chemical interactions to justify the use of an anxiolytic. As Landau listened, a skeptical look on his face, one of the nurses approached Anne. “This way, please,” she said, smiling reassuringly. When Kirk started to follow, however, she held up her hand. “Just Ms. Hardesty, I’m afraid. No one is to have physical access to Ms. Hardesty apart from medical personnel from our initial scans onward, otherwise our results could be deemed invalid.”

She meant the possibility that he might slip Anne something, a contact drug of some sort, that might alter her ability to deal with the drugs. That didn’t make it any less insulting. Still, he didn’t intend to sit through this more than once, so he didn’t put up a fuss. Anne hesitated, then turned back to him and hesitated again, glancing at Vice-Admiral Landau.

He couldn’t help a little pang of affection. She wanted a bit of comfort, but she wouldn’t make him look unprofessional in front of someone who technically outranked him. It was good that he didn’t give a fuck what Landau thought. Kirk pulled her into an embrace, kissing her forehead and murmuring softly, “You’ll be okay, tiger. We’ll make sure of it.” Even if he wasn’t entirely sure, he wasn’t about to undermine her confidence by saying so.

She held onto him for a few moments, then pulled away, immediately walking toward that barbaric examination table.

A lot of nothing interesting happened in the beginning. Most of it was just scans and calculations. Hayes seemed to find something odd, but she shrugged it off after talking to Bones. Kirk contacted Commodore Paris and formally requested a security detail for Loche’s trial, and she agreed. She also complimented him on his handling of the media; apparently the article had been well-received.

So much talk about that stupid article. Kirk borrowed Spock’s padd and read it through while waiting for something to happen. That reporter had gotten everything right, and the writing wasn’t half as bad as Anne had claimed. He didn’t remember talking much about how they’d become involved, though-- Anne must have said something about it to Felden. Again, they’d gotten everything right. That didn’t improve his opinion of that reporter though.

He was wondering what to do next when he saw Anne arranging herself into those restraints, and Hayes shooting her up with multiple drugs. Seemed like the circus was about to get started. Kirk gave back the borrowed padd and kept his attention on Anne. She looked miserable, of course. Who wouldn’t be miserable? The restraints automatically adjusted to her limbs, trapping her. Hayes must have won the argument about the anxiolytic, because Anne didn’t immediately try to get out of them. There was a bit of shuffling and rearranging of where people were standing, and then Vice-Admiral Landau spoke quietly. “For the record, we need you to state that you’re here of your own free will and that you have not been coerced or compelled to be subjected to this procedure.”

Anne frowned, but complied. “I’ve agreed to this procedure of my own free will. I have not been coerced or compelled.”

“Thank you,” Landau said. He nodded to the doctor. Hayes and McCoy were both scowling so hard at that doctor that Kirk wondered why he didn’t burst into flames. Instead, he tinkered with a few of the displays before pressing another hypospray against Anne’s neck. Immediately, he loaded it up with something else and dosed her again.

It was evident when the drugs kicked in. Anne’s breathing quickened, her hands clamping into fists. Councilor V’nula began the questioning with simple things like Anne’s name, date of birth, and place of residence to get a base reading from her. Anne answered quickly, as if she wanted all this to be over with, and Kirk agreed completely.

Councillor Andrews stepped in with the harder questions. Despite her stern look, Kirk knew that she was a bit sympathetic at heart. She was the best choice for some of the things that were asked. Anne answered with as much detachment as she could muster, but by this point she was almost panting with fear.

“When you threatened Meredith, did you have any idea that you were pushing her toward suicide?”

“Yes. That was what I was told to do. He made me memorize how to push her buttons. He told me to make her feel worthless.”

“And why did you comply?”

“Because he had just cut me up and I was afraid he would do it again. More than once he told me he wanted to cut my back and legs or my face the same way.”

“So you played the role of enforcer with his other captives.”

“Yes.”

“Did you enjoy hurting them?”

“I don’t know. I hated them for being weak. I wanted to be away from them. I wanted to be one of them. It looked easier.”

“Did you ever attack them on your own initiative?”

“Only Brynna.”

“Did you enjoy killing her?”

“No. No. I never want to think about it again. I wish I could forget it.”

How could this not be enough? Anne was clearly unwilling. Even if she had mixed feelings about the other captives, she was consistently horrified by the things she’d had to do. Kirk had heard some of them; others he’d guessed at, and still others were a surprise. Uhura looked sick hearing some of the things Anne had done. Spock betrayed no emotion whatsoever; he’d been in her head for some of these memories. Bones was just watching Anne thoughtfully, and Hayes was unmoved by the things Anne said. Of course, Anne must have discussed some or most of them with her.

As Andrews finished up, the doctor began fiddling with his displays again, then shot Anne up again. This time, the results were far more visible. Anne was actively struggling against the restraints, her breathing shallow and quick, her movements jerky with all the adrenaline that had just been dumped into her system.

And they asked her the questions over again, digging for more details this time. Kirk could see why it was done that way, but still, these memories had been part of why Anne was so traumatized. This basically amounted to a form of torture.

“When you cut off Heather’s fingers, what were you feeling?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t remember doing it. I don’t want to remember it… she was screaming.”

“Why did you cut them off one by one?”

“Loche. He made me. He told me.”

“Why did you obey him?”

Anne broke down crying, and Kirk felt sick watching it. He’d almost stood up, but a warning glance from Bones reminded him of the consequences. He gripped the arms of his seat and waited.

“I had to. I couldn’t-- I-- He made me. He hurt me if I didn’t obey.”

“Did you ever try to disobey?”

“Yes. Five times.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I tried to escape. I failed. He punished me.”

“How did he punish you?”

Instead of answering, Anne started to retch. Kirk heard a crack, and realized he’d gripped the arm of his chair hard enough to break the plastic. The doctor rushed up and shot her up with something, and the retching stopped.

“How did he punish you?”

“He-- He-- I-- Lauren. She died, he killed her. He killed her with my hands. He made me hold the knife. He cut, he made me cut her face, she was still alive. He held my hand and made me. After that… After that I couldn’t. He wanted to make me sick like him.”

By that point, Andrews and Landau both looked unsettled. Uhura looked as if she was about to cry. Spock was Spock, of course, and Bones still looked more thoughtful than anything else. Hayes was scowling again.

Landau, Andrews, and V’nula huddled for a conference, and a disagreement appeared to happen. Kirk couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see that V’nula was insisting on something, and Andrews and Landau were against it. He had the feeling this was about whether they would do a third pass or not. In the meantime, Anne was silently crying, swallowing hard but making no sound.

The argument continued for a while, but eventually they came to a decision. “We have no need of further investigation,” Landau said. “It is clear that Ms. Hardesty was coerced and in danger of losing her life.”

The doctor began to adjust the displays again. Kirk tried to bite back his anger. There was no need for this. Even if this was what Anne had chosen, Starfleet didn’t have to go along with it. They could have looked at the evidence. They could have used a mind meld. They could have brought a Betazoid in to listen to Anne and find out whether she was telling the truth. He was walking toward Anne before he realized it, but no one stopped him. Before anyone could do anything, he’d hit the release on the restraints. Bones stepped forward, reaching for one of the hypos on a nearby table, but all Anne did without the restraints was sit up on the table, curling her legs under her, and look up at Kirk.

“Do you hate me for what I did?” she asked, her eyes brimming with tears. “I know it’s the drugs but I’m so scared--”

He cut her off by pulling her into his arms. “No way. I get it. Let’s just get you the counteractives and then we’ll get out of here.”

Her whole body was trembling. Kirk snapped at the doctor, and he gave her a few shots with the hypo, after which she started to calm down. Spock and Uhura approached, and Anne smiled weakly at them.

“Would you like this memory or any other excised?” Spock asked.

Anne shook her head. “Thank you for making the offer. I’ll get over them the old-fashioned way.” She looked over at Claudia. “Provided you’re still available,” she said uncertainly.

“Of course I am,” Claudia said, her voice low and even. “Remember, Anne, we all knew your situation. Knowing the details isn’t comfortable for a friend, but it’s not like any of this was a surprise.”

Uhura stepped up, laying a hand on Anne’s shoulder. “We took them all down. Don’t forget that.”

Anne’s eyelids were starting to droop. “I know,” she said softly. “But some things you just can’t make up for.”

“It’s all right,” Kirk said. She looked exhausted, and no wonder. He glanced over at Vice-Admiral Landau, wondering if they were released to go. It wasn’t quite 1500 hours yet, but he wanted to get out of here. He wanted to get Anne out of here. Deciding he didn’t give a fuck, he asked, “Do you think you can make it to the car or do I need to carry you?”

That earned him a little smile. “I can walk. Probably.” Kirk moved out of the way and she slid off the table, a little wobbly in those spike heels but all right.

Bones shook his head. “I hope this decision was worth it for you,” he said, his voice curiously free of the disdain Kirk would have expected with a comment like that.

Anne rubbed the tears from her cheeks. “I do too.”

“I want to see you tomorrow,” Bones said. “There was an anomalous reading I want to check out.”

“I don’t know if… could you come to our place?” Anne asked, her voice tentative.

Bones smirked. “Better than having you wreck my equipment again.”

Not that he wanted to be impatient, but Kirk wanted to leave. It was over, she looked like she would recover, and they were expected at Sulu’s apartment before they could go home. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Vice-Admiral Landau must have overheard him, because he approached Kirk and Anne. “I would very much have preferred that this went to trial, but I’m glad it’s over with and you’ve been found definitively, objectively innocent, ” he said. “I hope never to have to see you in a professional capacity again after Loche’s trial.”

Before Anne could answer, Kirk found himself speaking up. “This was unnecessary, sir. You could have received the same results by using a mind meld or calling in a Betazoid to read her responses.”

The Vice-Admiral shook his head, his eyes regretful. “If we used a sentient for this, it would be less objective. At best it would be filtered through someone else’s biases; at worst, subject to potentially relevant concerns about corruption or conspiracy. It needed to be absolutely unassailable to protect all parties’ rights. I’m afraid there was no better way in this case.”

Frowning, Kirk was about to make a sharp retort, but Anne spoke before he did. “I just want to go home, Jim,” she said softly, her eyes inexpressibly tired.

It was her exhaustion that stopped him. “You’re right. It’s not worth it now.” Kirk sighed and wrapped an arm around Anne’s waist. “Let’s go.” Kirk nodded to Landau. “Sir.” Without waiting for a response, Kirk headed off to the elevator with Anne at his side, making for the lower decks.

#James T. Kirk/OC #Jim Kirk/OC #Star Trek #Star Trek Fanfiction #dark romance #fanfic #ST:WW #Star Trek: Walking Wounded

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moonbokrk · 5 years

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“I know I’m not the son you’d hoped I’d be. But let me be a son who can make you proud.”

They wanted their son to become a doctor. He wanted to pursue music and become an idol. Moonbok and his parents don’t always see eye-to-eye when it comes his future. One thing never changes, though. Even if dreams are left in ruins, harsh words are spoken and angry tears are shed; the bond between parent and son is unbreakable.

Playlist:

● Numb - Linkin Park ● Acting Out - Ashley Tisdale ● My Style - ASTRO ● Road - G.O.D ● Happy Until Now - Baekho (Kang Dongho) ● Thank You - Got7 ● I’ll Try - Day6

Numb - Linkin Park

I’ve become so numb, I can’t feel you there Become so tired, so much more aware By becoming this, all I want to do Is be more like me and be less like you

Since he was a child, Moonbok was groomed into becoming a doctor like his father. And he tried, he truly did try to live up to his parents’ expectations, becoming the model student and dutiful son. But his wishes to be an idol were stronger and he came to realize that if he became like his father, he might be successful but he would also be miserable. Thus his rebellion and the arguments began.

Acting Out - Ashley Tisdale

Let me out this cage, I’m not gonna hold back Gonna break these chains, I’m taking control now! Gonna give ya something to talk about, It’s another side of me, I’m acting out!

[Discussed somewhat in Moonbok’s MGA audition] As his frustration with his parents’ unwillingness to compromise grew, Moonbok’s behaviour became unruly. Once the ‘perfect child,’ he began to rebel more openly and in front of family members, determined to give them all a reason to talk about him, instead of simply staring down their noses. As is the case with all teenagers, though, he was blinded by his own self-confidence and unaware (or uncaring) of his parents’ feelings. Confrontation was looming ever closer as he progressed through his first year of High School

My Style - Astro

People always told me not to play to hard to get, That if I don’t want to fall behind; to listen to my elders That the dreams I’m dreaming can’t be fulfilled easily People who look down on me will never understand.

Have respect for your parents and elders, because they’re wiser than you are. That’s what Moonbok had been taught since he was a child, but as he got older, Moonbok scoffed at the notion. They all knew better simply because they lived longer than him?! His teachers, who just wanted to say they’d played a part in getting Jang Yeonseok’s only son to SNU’s medical school? His uncle, who put the reputation of their family ahead of any affection towards them? (If he even possessed affection for any of them in the first place) His parents, who had raised him and yet put down his dreams at any opportunity? Saying he was too intelligent to ‘waste [his] life on a dream,’ and idiotic platitudes about not wanting to see him ‘get hurt?’ Not realizing why his parents held the fears that they did or that his teachers did actually see him as more than the son of one of South Korea’s most esteemed doctors, Moonbok continued on his path of rebellion and his attitude towards his parents turned outright hostility until one evening, everyone snapped.

Road - G.O.D

Wanna say with confidence this path is right I do not want to look back I want no regret Just keep walking, keep walking, keep walking Yet I still don’t feel confident in my decision

On the 5th of February 2011, what started as a minor argument over Mookbok neglecting his homework (yet again) turned into an out-an-out screaming match between parents and son, sending their daughter cowering. Or so they all thought. However as Moonbok stormed towards the door with his father shouting warnings that if he left, he could stay gone this time, Jang Chaewon burst from her room and clung to her brother, sobbing and begging them to stop fighting. With that, Jang Minyoung delivered an ultimatum to her son. Sing for them. There and then. Prove that all this strife and pain was worth it, instead of just running away. At first Moonbok thought it was a joke, scoffing at the idea while he tried to untangle himself from his hysteric baby sister. But eventually he relented and as he stood before his family, he was seized by a sudden wave of terror. What if he failed here? Would his parents still throw him out? Despite all the arguments, he still loved them, he’d always loved them. Voice quaking, pitch and tone all over the place, he tried to put on a performance he’d always dreamed they’d watch, albeit on the big stage. However his impromptu performance was nothing short of a travesty and falling to his knees as it came to an end, all Moonbok could do was wait for his sentence to be passed...

Happy Until Now - Baekho

With how much of a child I always was Did I ever make you cry with my childish ways? Compared to you, who has always loved me I still have so much to learn Because I was always by your side

But the condemnation he was expecting never came, the order to get out and never return not issued. Instead, Moonbok felt his father’s arms wrap around him and hold him tightly, a strange warmth dripping on his cheek from above as his father trembled a little. Then, a simple statement with a nickname he hadn’t heard in what felt like years. “You did well, Bok-ah. I understand now, and I’m proud.” The realization hit Moonbok like a truck and before he could stop himself he was utterly bawling in his father’s arms, his sobs only increasing in strength and volume as his mother joined their hug. It was only then he realized that, in spite of everything he’d done and all the things he’d said, his parents simply wanted proof. Proof that he truly believed in his dream and that it wasn’t just him being spiteful. He’d made it that way though, threw it in his parents’ and teachers’s faces when he wanted a reaction. And now he realizes something that makes him cling to his parents even tighter, garbled apologies spilling out of his mouth, barely even understandable. In spite of all the pain he must have caused them, his parents still loved and forgave him.

Thank You - GOT7

Even if you give me everything you have You are still sorry and try to even give yourself to me What I gave to you is Still nothing, nothing, nothing even now So I’m so sorry So I’m sorry

It’s July 16th 2018 and the scene from that night was repeated. But instead simply being riddled in guilt from the way he acted as a teenager, Moonbok is curled in his parents’ embrace, sobbing as his feels like his dreams have come crashing to pieces around him. After giving up on their dream of him being a doctor, and letting him attend SNU’s music school to hone his skills, he’d failed. He’d come in last place on the first live stage of the MGAs season 4 and eliminated on the spot. Everything he’d worked for since that fateful night had come to nothing. He disgraced his family and friends in front of the entire nation (the fact that it wasn’t airing until Sunday night was even worse) and was told he simply wasn’t good enough. That he’d dragged his whole team to last place. “They hate me, they hate me! They think I’m not good enough and they’re right! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you were right all along, I never should have--” His mother hushed him, running a hand through his messy hair while his father’s grip on him tightened once more and Moonbok could almost swear the older man is shaking again. He’d let them all down, and yet they’re grieving with him instead of saying ‘we told you so.’ “Then prove them wrong, Moonbokkie. Learn from this and show them that they’ve made a mistake. You’ve done it before, let me see you do it again.”

I’ll Try - Day6

I wanna be on your side all your life And understand you Just like your love That loves me Just the way I am

Moonbok finally realizes what unconditional love means. It means his parents still love him, despite his faults and occasional bad attitude. That they won’t give up on him on a bad day, but will not let him wallow in self-pity. That even when he’d been rejected during the MGAs Wildcard round, they didn’t tell him it was time to give up, but to keep trying. That they’ll welcome him home after a day of classes with a hug and a smile and take a genuine interest in his going-ons in University. (Well, mostly. Moonbok is of the opinion that while Yeonseok tries to understand what his son is telling, there’s simply too much medical knowledge in his brain to make room for the arts. He tries though, and Moonbok loves him for it.) He’s ashamed of how he believed his parents didn’t like him, let alone love him when he was at his worst. He’s ashamed of how much pain and embarrassment he must have put them through with his bratty ways. But there’s no point dwelling on the past. All he can do know is simply repay their love in any way he can and try be a son Yeonseok and Minyoung can be proud of, no matter where his path leads.

#rkship #rkplaylist #((crt+3))#(Henlo I am going to go lie down and weep for a while)#(Why do you wound me like this Jang Moonbok?)

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hiilikedragons · 6 years

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I'm soo happy you're back!! I've missed the sacrifice au so much and still think about it sometimes and suddenly I've read the whole thing in a day again. It was one of the first proper long fanfics I read years ago and one of my favs ever!

Thank you so much anon!

“Do you plan on showing mercy any time soon?”

There’s a little amusement in Valka’s voice, a teasing lilt, but Astrid wonders if there’s a more sincere sentiment underlying it.

They’re cradled in the stone windows of their living quarters, sharing a bowl of berries as they watch the aviary. Below them, unaware of his audience, Hiccup has a new dragon prosthesis in his hand, and he’s chasing a Changewing with a torn wing back and forth. Curled up on a rock, Toothless looks on with barely stifled smugness, his tail languorously flicking side to side.

“Giving him hope wouldn’t be mercy.” Astrid replies with a taste of bitterness. “I don’t do anything just because I like watching him squirm.” Though there was a little satisfaction in it. “I do it because I hate him. I don’t want him near me.”

She never would have said such a thing so bluntly to Valka before. When she first came to the sanctuary, she tiptoed around badmouthing Hiccup, worried that it would make Valka angry. After these several weeks, though, they’ve become so close– it’s almost like talking with her own mother.

Almost. Not quite.

“You hated him once before,” the older woman mentions, her tone casual. “How did you overcome it the last time?”

It’s a fair question. Astrid ponders it as she rolls a berry across her tongue. Was it the day he took her to Bulg for the first time, giving her a taste of freedom? Was it learning about his past from his mother? It’s hard to say when she started enjoying his presence instead of despising it.

“Maybe it was just a trick of the mind.” She shrugs, tilting her head a little. “I was a prisoner. I had nobody else.”

“It could be. It’s a possibility.” That’s why she likes Valka so much. She doesn’t judge, and she doesn’t let her feelings blind her to reason. “The best way to find out would be to give him a chance now that you’re free.”

Astrid wrinkles her nose, flicking her gaze to Valka’s face to show her displeasure before glancing back at the bowl. Her fingers flick and dig for the largest, most perfect looking berry. “You want me to forgive him.”

With a heavy exhale, Valka makes a vague gesture with her hand in Hiccup’s direction. “I’m biased. Mothers aren’t very good at seeing the worst in their children.”

Astrid doesn’t reply, instead throwing fruit at her.

The other woman’s laugh is hearty and warm. “I mean it. If you look at him long and hard, you might be able to figure out why exactly you fell for him in the first place. Or–” She shrugs. “You find that it was only your nearness to each other that pushed you two together. Either way, you won’t know until you try talking.”

Astrid feels her eyes roll upwards– not in disrespect, but unwillingness. She unfolds herself from the crook of the stone window and slides down the wall so she can stretch her legs out in front of her. Her jaw tightens as she knots her fingers in the fabric of her tunic, as if she can hold the little life inside just as tight. She glares ahead.

“I’m just… so…” Shaking her head, Astrid huffs like a perturbed dragon. “I’m so angry.”

“Are you angry?” Valka takes advantage of the new space in the window, propping her feet up where Astrid had been sitting. “Or are you hurt?”

“Both? Mostly angry.” The stone behind her feels cold through her clothes and even seeps through her braid. “It’s like there’s this hot coal in my chest, always burning. Always stinging. When he leaves me alone, it’s just kind of sizzling, but when I see him–” Her words lose traction, and she struggles for the right thing to say. “I want to rip it out.”

They sit in quiet for a moment. Hiccup’s voice just barely floats upwards from outside.

After a few minutes of thoughtful silence, Valka crawls out of the window and places the bowl by Astrid. She grabs her staff and walks towards the exit to the aviary. Over her shoulder, she cheerfully says, “All coals burn up eventually.”

It’s well after midnight when Valka rouses Hiccup from his sleep, squeezing his shoulder with a warm hand. He blinks blearly into the dark, startling a little when he makes out the frightful mask of his mother’s helmet.

“I told you not to do that,” he mumbles, pushing up on an elbow and rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “You know that thing is creepy.”

She makes a noise of amusement, more of a purr than a laugh. An evolution after living with the dragons for so long. “Sorry, dear.” Then her tone drops, more serious. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a flight. There’s a ship of trackers skirting the ice.”

Toothless must pick up on the sound of warning in Valka’s voice, because he rustles in the corner and yawns, sitting up.

“What’s brought them so close?” Hiccup pats his furs for his flask out of habit before remembering he doesn’t have it anymore.

“Not sure.” His mother glances over her shoulder, as if she’s being watched. “It might be our comings and goings. I’m going to try and draw them away.”

“You’re leaving now?”

She straightens and bobs her head in a nod. “There’s no time to waste. If word of our location spreads, we could be swarmed with trappers in a day’s time.”

He begins to pull his furs aside. “Shouldn’t I go with you?”

Her hand on his shoulder stops him. “No. I need you here to protect the sanctuary if it turns out to be a distraction. If they slip by me or if another ship arrives, I need someone who can organize the dragons and defend us.”

The idea of sleep instantly evaporates. He reaches a hand for Toothless, and he’s met with a scaly nudge. “Do you think I need to get Astrid out of here?”

Valka’s eerie mask tilts back and forth in a display of uncertainty. “I think it’s better if she stays. The ships are still a few days out by boat. No sense in moving her over an unlikely possibility, and if something does happen, she’ll probably be more help to you here.”

He doesn’t entirely agree. The idea of Trappers and Astrid in the same place makes his skin prickle with uneasiness. But he trusts that Valka doesn’t think the ships are an urgent threat. Even more nerve wracking than the idea of nearby ships is the thought of the two of them being alone in a frosty silence without his mother as a buffer between them.

“I’ll hold everything down here,” he assures her. “I’ll send a dragon if we spot anything.”

Once she’s gone, the place feels too quiet and open. Hiccup figures he’ll get a couple more hours of rest before getting up– he might need it in case of an emergency– but he’s wide awake. Instead of staring at the ceiling and sighing, he decides to take Toothless for a late-night flight. It’ll let him keep an eye on the horizon and stretch his dragon’s wings before the rest of the world stirs.

No ships, so far as the eye can see. It allays his fears a little to see nothing but black ocean and blue ice for miles. The ship Valka saw must be rather far out indeed. That makes him feel slightly better about the threat of the sanctuary being found by trappers.

He enjoys his time with Toothless until the sky begins to lighten. Thor knows his Night Fury enjoys it just as much as he does, having been making less regular trips across the archipelago. The cold air that slips through his flight suit is exhilarating, and it helps him think. Everything feels a little bit clearer near the clouds.

There are a few dragons from the sanctuary that are starting to rise and skim the water’s surface for food. They play and dance in the ocean spray, giving Hiccup an idea. He directs Toothless to snag a few fish for themselves and heads for home just as morning light begins to sparkle off the sanctuary spires.

He’s never been a great cook, but fish is one thing he can do with no problem. Catch it, throw it over a fire, make sure it doesn’t fall into the flames. He remembers some of the harder nights with Toothless– back before they found a place to settle– where he was so hungry he would hardly wait for the fish to cook through before tearing into it. These days, since he has the luxury of time, he sometimes tends to let it burn.

That’s probably the smell that brings a bleary-eyed Astrid inside. At first her expression is just sleepy and confused, probably expecting to find Valka at the fire, but she pulls up short when she finds him instead.

“Good morning!” He blurts before she can have a chance to run away. He’s trying to plate a trout that’s falling to pieces, struggling to keep it in one piece. It’s a good thing that blacksmithing has stripped him of most feeling in his fingertips, because he’s sure they’d be blistered by the heat. “Toothless– show the good lady to her seat.”

As rehearsed, the Night Fury stalks behind her and uses his nose to nudge her towards a seat. Astrid makes a noise of indignation but doesn’t object. She watches Hiccup with a sharp gaze, which is only slightly softened by a tinge of curiosity. Her arms stay crossed defensively in front of her.

“Breakfast, to start the day.” He sets the fish on the stone next to her, already sure she wouldn’t take it if he handed it over. His strategy is to keep her distracted with conversation until she slips up and speaks to him. “Fresh pike, caught just hours ago by your favorite offspring of lightning and death. A cup of tea, ready to brew. Mom’s going to be out for a few days, but if you need anything, I can get it for you.”

Without replying, Astrid picks up the plate and sniffs it cautiously. The expression her face pulls isn’t promising. His hands are pouring hot water into a cup of tea leaves, but his attention is fully engrossed by her every movement.

It must be at least slightly tempting, because she picks out a less scorched piece of fish and brings it to her lips. He’s pleased when she doesn’t immediately spit out her first couple of nibbles, but before he can get too excited, her brow suddenly furrows. She sets down the plate with a little force and uses the back of her hand to wipe her mouth.

Instead of waiting for disappointment to set in, he inhales deeply and presses on.

“Fiske’s wife actually showed me this tea. You remember Fiske? His wife is kind of terrifying.” When he steps close to hand her the cup, he can tell that she’s breathing a little unsteadily. Valka tells him to check on her whenever she ends up sick to her stomach, but he’s always pushed away– verbally and physically– whenever he tries.

She takes the cup from his hand, eyeing it warily. This time he stands next to her and watches as she takes a tiny sip. Surprisingly, a minute amount of tension seems to melt from her stiff frame, and she adjusts her hands around the tea to hold it tightly. Wordless, she stares into the fire and slowly nurses the cup.

His relief is potent. He darts back to his own breakfast and sits on the stone bench next to hers.

Toothless curls at her feet and sits his head in her lap for scratchies, which he is granted albeity distractedly. If Astrid notices him using his long forked tongue to try and reach chunks of the fish on her plate, she doesn’t say anything. There’s a weariness to her features that he can’t help but notice out of the corner of his eye.

They sit in silence for a long time, which is more progress than he’s made with her in the weeks since he returned. He’s scared to say something to pierce the bubble of civility she’s decided to wrap them in, worried that the moment he tries to appeal to her that the ice and thorns will reappear.

Eventually, after Toothless has cleaned off her mostly untouched plate, she tilts the cup in her hands back and forth. “What is this?”

It’s pathetic how quickly he jumps at the question. “Raspberry leaf, alfalfa, and dried ginger.”

Astrid nods, handing the cup back to him. Hiccup’s not sure if that means she’s done or she wants more, but he stands and begins preparing a second.

“I’ve been wondering something,” she begins, resting her elbows on her knees and lacing her fingers together. “If you’d never left Berk, do you think we would’ve been friends?”

The thought causes his hands to slow momentarily, but then he’s able to shake it off. “I hope so.”

The first streak of annoyance crosses her features, informing him that his reply wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I mean, you were spoiled and obnoxious, but I never disliked you. But would I have liked you? Not just like I liked Snot, but could we have wanted each other there the way we did on our island?”

Something inside his chest swells and overflows at the little word our. Such a tiny, inconsequential word, but it’s the first ray of hope he’s felt in a while. Stepping over Toothless, he presses the cup into her accepting hands and sits with his back to the bench, just a little bit closer to her.

“I used to think about it. Pretend that instead of running from Berk, Toothless and I saved it. And everybody learned to trust dragons, and my dad was proud of me, and you fell madly in love with me. Some nights, I would dream it so vividly– it felt almost real.”

Astrid exhales a short laugh into her tea. “I dreamed that I found the nest and killed them all. There was a feast in my honor, with wine and roast and honey cakes.” Her tone is wry. “There were some winters where the shortages were so bad, I’d wake up chewing on my quilt.”

He breathes his own humorless chuckle. She shakes her head and smooths a hand over her hair.

“I just wonder,” she whispers, eyes closed. “Did our attraction to each other play tricks on us? Were we using each other to pretend we aren’t both irreparably damaged? Was there anything that was real between us?”

Hiccup jerks back, surprised by the sharp pain of her questions. He shouldn’t be surprised. He asked himself those same things over and over after taking her to meet his mother for the first time. They were easy questions to ask before he knew what it felt like to have lost her– possibly forever. Now, it’s almost shocking how wrong they seem.

For a moment, neither of them speak. They watch the fire flickering lowly, with the sound of dragons waking and chattering in the distance.

Hiccup risks shifting to look directly at her. If he reached out his hand, he could just barely touch her. He wants to.

“I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you,” he says slowly and quietly.

Her laced fingers immediately clench. “Don’t.”

“I left because I wanted you more than I thought made sense. Enough to scare me.”

“Hiccup, stop.” Her sigh sounds frustrated, and she sits up, holding out a hand as if she can physically block his words from reaching her.

But he can’t. This is the closest he’s gotten to her in weeks, the most she’s let him speak since he arrived. He feels like he has to blurt it out before the door shuts again and they’re back to frosty silence.

“I’ve spent a long time trying to outrun my past. Things I’ve done, things I’ve seen. I wanted to keep it all in the tailwinds where it can’t hurt me. But you– you, Astrid–” He tries to take her hand, but she pulls away. His own hands curl and flex with nervous energy. “You slammed into me. Made me actually want to be still for a while. And then before I knew it, you weren’t something behind me, you were the only thing in front of me.”

“I can’t do this!” She stands abruptly, almost breaking her cup as she sets it down. Backing away, she stabs a finger at him and glares with watery eyes. “You can’t do this, Hiccup!”

“Please, Astrid, just let me explain!” He’s on his feet too, and Toothless whines in sudden confusion. “I was afraid of slowing down, of stopping, of wanting something I wasn’t guaranteed to keep.”

“I gave you everything! What more of a guarantee did you need?”

A flicker of ire ignites under his skin. “Can you really tell me you would have been happy with that life forever? Forsaking your family, your village, hidden away and always waiting on a cliff for me to come back in one piece? Hiding our identities and never really settling in one place? Can you tell me you wouldn’t have wanted out eventually?”

“I don’t know!”

“And can you swear that I could always protect you from my enemies? I have a lot of them. Can you promise you would be safe? Your child would be safe?” Even the thought reminds him of the trappers in the far distance, creeping closer and closer to their sanctuary. It stirs a panic in him that he can’t stifle.

“I don’t know!” Her voice breaks. She paces like a dragon in a cage, eyes of crystal blazing. “I could forgive you being afraid, because I was terrified the day you left. But how can I trust you, Hiccup? You take our future in your hands and make decisions without stopping to consider how I feel!”

“What do you even mean? I’ve spent weeks considering your feelings, trying to repent, but you cut me off at every turn.”

“Because I want you to know what it’s like!” Tears finally spill onto her cheeks. Without even pausing to wipe them away, she takes a few steps towards him. “To believe that you could love someone if they would just let you!”

He grabs her by the elbows. “Then just let me!”

“I told you, I can’t!” Astrid breaks away, shoulders rising and falling in near hysterics. He wants to chase her as she turns away and crosses the room, but there’s something keeping his boots welded to the floor. For several minutes, they both stand in silence. Catching their breaths and sorting through all the words floating between them.

Then she faces him again. The tears are gone. The door of opportunity has been closed. He can see it in her face, the cold detachment and prickly guardedness. It’s as if a wrought iron door is clattering as it rushes to shut between them.

“Give me the dishes,” she says, “I’ll wash them.”

He wonders if she notices the way she holds her hand close to her body, as if it’s itching to cover her abdomen. She’s worn nothing but baggy clothes while she’s been here, and they hang on her frame. It makes her look even skinnier than before she came, and it leaves him forever wondering about their baby. Is she showing at all? Is she punishing him by hiding? His anxiety could choke him with the way it tightens his throat.

“I’ll do them.” He can hear the defeat in his own voice. “I know how to get the Night Fury spit off anyways.”

Astrid doesn’t argue and leaves without another word.

Boom. The wrought iron door slams down.

Hiccup wonders about his dad a lot. What he’s up to. Where he goes. What he would do or say if he knew it was his son beneath the Dragon Rider’s mask. And damn it– he misses him. Even though Stoick the Vast has become famous for his hatred of dragons, Hiccup still misses him.

It takes everything in him to avoid his father’s house, the Great Hall, anywhere he might see his dad’s giant figure and be tempted to watch for a while. And really, he should wait until it’s darker, until the rest of the island has gone to sleep. The sky is only a purplish navy. But he has time on the mind. He has to be in and out quickly, to get back to the sanctuary before Astrid starts to think he’s abandoned her again. He’ll be in for a world of hurt if she notices he’s gone.

Unsurprisingly, the Hoffersons’ door is unlocked. He’s already been watching the village since before sunset– he knows Calder is down by the pier helping tie up the last few fishing boats to come in. Astrid’s mother entered the house several minutes ago, and she hasn’t shown signs of leaving. Now is the best time to move.

He deliberately makes noise when crawling through Astrid’s bedroom window. It’s much safer than going through the front door or wandering downstairs where Calder could walk in at any moment. And it works. After a moment of pacing heavily across the bedroom floor, he hears rapid steps on the stairs. The door bursts open.

Mrs. Hofferson looks slightly disappointed to see him, but she doesn’t have a weapon this time. She doesn’t immediately scream or alert the neighbors or threaten him bodily harm. Maybe it’s because he’s been here before, and he’s the closest thing she has to news of her daughter. Maybe it’s because he has his facemask flipped up so she can see his eyes.

“I’m human,” he says before she can recover from her surprise. Her blue eyes dart to and fro as she evaluates him, just the way her daughter does when she suspects there might be a threat looming. “I’m not a monster, and I’m not a danger to you or your family.”

“Did you find her?” the woman asks, keeping her voice as low as Hiccup’s. He figures she has just as much to lose if he gets discovered. “Do you have her?”

“Not as a prisoner,” he qualifies. “She’s free.”

Maybe it’s not quite the right thing for him to say. Her brow seems to crumple with hurt and confusion. “She hasn’t come home.”

“She can’t.” Hiccup doesn’t want anyone on Berk knowing about the baby. It’s risky even doing this much. “I can’t tell you everything. But she’s alive, she’s safe, and she misses you. I can prove it to you. But I need something first.”

The Hofferson matriarch keeps her chin up, even as it wobbles. She watches him narrowly. “You’re not what I expected. Not what they say.” After a long moment of staring into his eyes, she must decide that he’s safe enough to cooperate with. She exhales a steadying breath. “Well, then? What could the Lord of Dragons want from our humble home?”

Hiccup feels the corner of his mouth daring to turn upwards. “First, I need your promise this stays between us…”

It’s something he hasn’t done in a long time.

He’s practicing a speech.

“And I promise that from now on… I’ll always be by your side.” Hiccup recites the same words he’s repeated over and over since leaving Berk. He’s reorganized them and rearranged them and eliminated them altogether. He’s written and rewritten a thousand different ways to tell his wife that no matter how many times they argue, no matter how much she despises him, he’s not going anywhere.

He has his gift from her mother stashed safely away, and his heart is thrumming with a nervous energy. With the time spent flying across the archipelago and back, he’s had time to think. And despite all the ways she told him– explicitly and implicitly– that she’s not ready to forgive him yet, she did say one thing.

She might have loved him. Once.

It’s a small thing to hold onto. Barely even mentioned in passing. It’s completely possible that any small amount of affection she held for him once is long gone now. But he’s seen the way his mother’s eyes cloud when she thinks about his dad. He remembers the way his father would reminisce about her. Similarly, if Astrid loved him then, she could love him now. It might not be too late.

At least, that’s the hope that he’s holding onto. That and an envelope from Berk.

It’s after mid-morning when the sanctuary comes into view. He’s relieved to see that there are no strange ships nearby, no nervous-looking dragons. Everything as he left it the day before.

Just as they’re approaching the island, though, something happens. Toothless’ ears prick, twitching this way and that, and he draws up in an alarmed loop-de-loop.

“Whoa!” Hiccup reaches out to touch his dragon’s crown. “What’s going on, bud?” His first, most terrifying thought is that there’s an enemy. An intruder. Someone’s breached the sanctuary.

Toothless whirs and barks in response, ducking with renewed speed to enter the maze of tunnels that make up the sanctuary’s caves. He moves so quickly that his rider’s vision is blurred as he dives through the stone labyrinth. Hiccup can feel the tension and urgency in every flick of the dragon’s wings.

They spill out near the top of the aviary, and a nest of hatchlings scatter at the commotion. Hiccup quickly scans the scenery, but none of the other dragons seem as agitated as his. The Bewildebeast is unphased by their entrance, staring intently into the distance. If there was a trapper here, wouldn’t the dragons know before anyone else? Wouldn’t the alpha have sensed approaching boats?

Toothless jerks in the direction of the Bewildebeast’s gaze, and Hiccup is pulled into flight just as he recognizes a pair of yellow and blue wings. Stormfly.

She’s perched near the alcove that Astrid has made into her room. Hopping back and forth with a frazzled energy, the Nadder screeches and flaps frantically towards the wall. His heart hammers against his breastbone as he watches Stormfly scratch the ground in distress.

Hiccup doesn’t have to say anything– his dragon is already zeroed in on the scene. Terror has frozen his blood in his veins, leaving him cold and numb and afraid.

“Astrid!” he shouts, and he’s tripping out of his saddle before Toothless has even properly touched down. Stormfly reacts by hissing and turning on him, using her wings to block his view.

“Hiccup!” Astrid’s voice calls back, sounding thready and strained. “Stormy, it’s okay, let him by.”

Whether she’s obeying her rider or intimidated by Toothless, the Nadder backs down. Just slightly at first, and then stepping aside so Hiccup can see Astrid sitting on the ground, leaned back against the cave wall. Her shoulders are hunched around her, and there’s sweat glistening on her forehead. When she slowly pushes to her feet, she keeps one hand knotted in the front of her tunic. She’s wincing.

“Astrid, what happened?” He’s immediately at her side, giving her his shoulder to steady her. “Is there somebody here?”

“Where were you?” Her accusation says volumes. She was looking for him. Before he can even answer, though, she asks, “When will Valka be back?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I need her,” she insists, letting him lead her over to Toothless. Stormfly’s irate chirping lessens just slightly at the sight of Astrid’s arm hooked around Hiccup’s side. “How far out is she?”

“I don’t know.” The second time he says it sounds even more pathetic. “She could be a couple of days out by dragon by now, maybe less.”

“Frigga,” she swears, looking upwards so she can blink back tears. “I don’t know what to do.”

He shifts her in front of him so that she can lean against his dragon, who is watching with concern and confusion. Hiccup cups her face in one hand and grips her arm with the other. “I’m here. I’m here, Astrid. What happened?”

After a moment of squeezing her eyes shut, clearly trying to not cry, she swallows and exhales slowly. “Something’s wrong,” she says. Her voice shakes. “It feels like– it just hurts. And I’m bleeding. I don’t think I’m supposed to.”

And there it is. His worst fear. Something he can’t protect her from, something he can’t stop. He has no answers, no way to help, and he feels absolutely useless. It’s exactly what he always knew would happen eventually, what he told her he was afraid of.

But there’s something– something else. Maybe something that’s been there forever, or maybe something that just grew there overnight. But it’s a steadiness. A calm that he couldn’t expect.

This is his wife. His child. And all the fear, the shock, the uncertainty that he feels somehow is dampened by the panic in her face. He has to act now, do something, and then he can process his own emotions later. For now, he has to be her husband.

“Here’s what we’re doing,” he begins, hoping his voice isn’t trembling as much as he is. “I’m taking you to the closest village. I’ll send a dragon out for Mom, tell her where we’re going so she can meet us there. Okay?”

Astrid doesn’t argue, doesn’t protest. She holds his eye contact, gaze full of trust, and nods.

“Okay. Now. It’s going to be a few hours’ flight. Do you think you can hang on to me or does Toothless need to carry you?”

He’s going through a checklist in his head: he needs to untie the saddlebags to lighten the load so Toothless can be faster; he needs to write a letter to his mom and find one of her tracking dragons; he needs to get her fur coat and consult his map. His thoughts are racing faster than he can keep up.

“I can manage for a little bit, but I don’t know how long.” In this moment, he can tell she’s forgotten how angry she is at him, how much they’ve fought. She’s holding tight to his shirt and leaning into his arms. “Can you hold me in front? Like the night of the sacrifice?”

“All day and longer,” he promises. When he pries her hand off of his arm, it’s with utmost gentleness and a tinge of regret. “Rest here with Tooth. We’ll be leaving in a minute. I’m sure the baby’s fine.” He’s not, and he hates it, but it seems like the right thing to say.

“You didn’t even want this,” she whispers, and he can see the paranoia slipping into her features, the hurt and the anger. “Why do you care what happens to the baby?”

“Stop.” He squeezes her shoulders and ducks his head to look her straight on. “You’re not doing that to me now. Not when I’m about to do everything in my power to make sure you and our baby are alright. Do you hear me?”

Astrid nods. The doubt in her expression seems to flee. She searches his face. “Our baby?”

He kisses her forehead. Hard. “Ours.”

Such a tiny word.

#dragondrabbles #sacrifice!au #part... twenty?

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happywitch416 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 17

"I am going to teach the two of you to fight. Properly." Morga announced hands on her hips in the middle of the forest clearing. The darkness had disappeared like smoke in the wind but Rhena still felt it inside her, taunting her. She had nearly gotten them killed. Rhena nodded in agreement.

Muriel took a few steps back, head shaking wildly. "We lost. And that wasn't even Lucio. There's no way we stand a chance against any of them."

Rhena didn't want to admit it but he had a point. How the hell do you fight someone made up of beetles?!

Morga snorted and approached him, anger rolling off of her. "So what? You'll lay down and die? You'll run away?" She cut off his response. "Will you abandon Rhena in the forest to save your own skin? How far will you go?" Rhena bristled at that, she was perhaps not as made for living off the land anymore as the two of them but being alone in the forest was not a death sentence by any means.

"I wouldn't-"

"Let me put it this way." She crossed her arms and pointed a finger at him. "If you don't fight, you will die." Her eyes closed for a moment. "If you don't fight, Rhena will die." Rhena had to admit she was right on that point, if he hadn’t been there, she would have been squashed like a bug to the cave floor. One of them having some sense was better than none, even if she had no idea where hers had went. "I won't lash you to a spear, boy. I won’t hold your hand. If you don't have the heart for this, you better run now and stop wasting my time." They stared each other down, and Muriel didn't budge. Morga gave a little sigh. "If I didn't think you could do it, I wouldn't be here. I'd have left you both days ago."

Muriel looked at Rhena, emotions warring in his eyes as he met hers. She looked away when Morga turned to her. "And what about you Rhena? Will you fight?"

Her chin rose. "Yes."

"Good. At least one of you has a warrior's heart." She studied Rhena a moment longer. "You're from the forest clans of the Clouded Mountains."

Rhena nodded, pride making her voice stronger. "My mother is Anassa of Clan Ailurus and my grandmother is the Huntress of the Clouded Mountains.”

She had an appraising look in her eyes. "Then you were raised as a hunter."

Morga didn't ask but Rhena answered all the same, knowing she was out of practice. "I was raised with a bow in my hands."

Morga nodded once. "Battle magic?"

Rhena sighed, looking anywhere but at Muriel. "I can throw rocks and sometimes make cracks in the ground but it's mostly defensive spells. And summoning, although it takes a lot of concentration." She kicked at the ground with a glare.

She scoffed. "That won't keep you alive."

Rhena nodded as Muriel's voice exploded from beside her. "You can't!" She finally looked at him and winced at the anger in his eyes. "You saw how outmatched we are. If you fight, you'll die." Morga scoffed and Muriel's anger evaporated. "I'll be a coward if it means Rhena doesn't die."

"Muriel." Rhena said softly, waiting for him to look at her. "If we run, I could never forgive myself. Could you?” She waited but when he said nothing she continued. “We can't let him win. I don’t want to be that helpless ever again. I want to fight."

"He's already won! He will keep winning." His voice cracked. "And he'll make me hurt you."

Rhena stopped breathing but Muriel shook his head and turned away. Morga broke the heavy silence. "That my son should be such a monster to you." Her eyes flashed golden. "Trust me, he is not so capable." She grabbed her spear and looked to Muriel again. "I will hunt our dinner. I expect your answer when I get back, Muriel." When he didn't answer she stared at Rhena and nodded before disappearing into the dark.

When Rhena turned back to Muriel, tears were in his eyes, his whole body shaking. He looked ready to break as she moved slowly towards him. "Muriel?"

"You'll leave if you know." He shook his head vehemently.

A smile flickered across her face. "You've told me to leave at least 20 times. Why would I be less weird now?"

He sighed, turning from her as he quietly spoke. "I don't actually want you to." He settled on a boulder, head in his hands. She followed him and stood awkwardly, trying to find the words that wouldn’t make him bolt for the underbrush. She barely caught the deep rumble of his voice. "The coliseum in the city. I used to fight there. In Lucio's name."

A thousand feelings smashed into Rhena. She had heard of the fights, the blood, and deaths. The evilness of it still haunted some people’s words, the horror that had always rolled in her stomach when she knew some missed it. She had refused to step in its shadow, feeling the terror of the souls that had died there and the joyous bloodthirst of the onlookers. All his scars, the unwillingness to fight made much more sense. Muriel continued quietly. "I was his executioner. Whoever entered the ring with me, they didn't leave. They called me the Scourge of the South."

She stared at him, she had heard stories, some whispered in corners by people still terrified the Scourge would return. All the tales of brutality and death did not match the man before her. "Did you want to be?"

His head snapped up, horror in his voice. "No!" His fingers dug into his palms. "I thought I didn't have a choice. He said he'd hurt Asra if I didn't." He deflated, crumbling into himself. "So, I hurt everyone else to keep him safe."

She reached out, taking his hands in hers. "The past is done, Muriel."

"You don't remember some of yours, easy for you to say." He scoffed.

"True. But it's still done.” She chewed her lip with a nod. “The future is mine and I hope...” She trailed off before speaking again with a squeeze of her hands. “Your future is yours. What do you want to do with it?"

"I don’t know."

"You have to decide now, because whatever you decide, it will change everything.” She said with certainty. “If Lucio wins, do you think he will leave you alone?" She asked quietly.

He shook his head. "He’ll make me do it again. He'll make me hurt you. Asra."

"Then we won't let him." Rhena felt a tightness ease in her chest. "That I can promise you, Muriel. We won't let him. We won't, the stars will fall first." Rhena squeezed his hands gently and brushed a soft kiss to his forehead before she stepped back to toss more wood on the fire.

Morga appeared with rabbits tied to her spear, and two weapons in her hands. "Are you done? Can we get started before I vomit?" Rhena rolled her eyes. her hand rising to catch the bow Morga threw at her. She threw a carved stick at Muriel's feet.

He nodded resignedly. Morga watched Rhena smooth her fingers along the bow and tested it, it was freshly made but comfortable with a magic that sang to her own. "It's carved from the wood of the Tarske forest. You should find it cooperative. Can you form shapes with your magic?" Rhena twisted her fingers and a ball of light appeared. "Good. Shape it into an arrow."

Rhena cocked her head studying the ball, pushing and prodding it with movements of her fingers until it snapped into an arrow. Morga nodded. "Practice making them until you can do so thoughtlessly." She paused a moment. "And without your fingers. You need them for the bow." Rhena scowled, biting back a retort.

Sometime later Rhena collapsed onto a log as Muriel joined her. Breathlessly, she laughed her smile wide. It had been so long since she had held a bow and it felt good in her hands and made her giddy. "It's a nice stick."

Muriel snorted, examining it under careful hands. "What am I supposed to do with it? Hit Lucio in the knees?"

A calculating look crossed Rhena's face. "A little higher than that, and repeatedly."

He sighed, ending in a little huff as he set it down. His gaze focused on a faraway tree. "Having you here. It makes it easier. Then facing him alone."

Rhena's nose wiggled as she watched his ears turn red. "Muriel-."

"Stop looking at me like that." He flushed deeper, voice harsh, scowling when she almost laughed. "Go to bed." Muriel stood and walked away, Inanna bounding happily beside him. Rhena slid down to lean against the log, looking thoughtful. Morga made a disgusted noise from somewhere in the dark.

Heart of the Wood Master List

#the arcana muriel #muriel x apprentice #the witch writes #apprentice rhena

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itbethatwaysometime · 7 years

Text

Some of Your Own Advice

Relationship: Frank Castle x Karen Page

Summary: Frank’s back. And he decides to stay.

Words: 3.6k (I got a little carried away)

Warnings: some swearing, mentions of injuries, a lot of blood and some stitches, angsty as hell, fluff at the end.

A/N: OK. I have fallen in love with this ship so hard omg, the way Jon Berthnal plays The Punisher KiLLS me. And him and Karen paired together is just the emotional roller coaster that I just love diving into. Anyways, it took my a really long time to write this but I’m happy with how it ended up. Hope you do too! Xx

Six months. Six months since she last saw him on the edge of that roof top. Six months since her life resumed full-speed. Six months and her mind still lingered on Frank Castle.

Her job at the Bulletin was full-time in every way. She was rarely home, her apartment, a pit stop. She finally saved up the money to get herself a new one that was surprisingly spacious despite the low price. Boxes still littered her home, unpacked. It might say something about her unwillingness to let go of the past, but she never dwelled on it too long.

Her friendship with Matt was rocky at best. Once the anger had simmered down, she found that him being the Daredevil didn’t bother her all that much. The little talk they had over coffee was awkward, but it relieved a bit of the weight on her shoulders once she found herself joking with him. She went out for drinks at Josie’s once or twice a month with Foggy to catch up. She was proud of him, he was the new hotshot lawyer, taking big cases and winning them.

As for her, she’s been working her ass off and has a permanent case of sore feet ever since she started chasing leads herself. Someone had to do it, and she definitely took matters into her hands.

She groaned at the scattered files and papers at her desk. She had been following a sex trafficking ring for well over a month now and all her leads are dead ends. The facts don’t add up and the victims are still being taken away.

She pulls open the bottom drawer of her old desk, digging through old files hoping that she’d find something. But, instead of finding a list of names from a previous stunt she find the skull x-ray of the infamous Punisher, Frank Castle.

She sighs and sits back in her chair. It’s been awhile since she’s thought about him. She did think that was he was doing was definitely the most unethical thing possible, but she also new that Hell’s Kitchen had need for his… methods.

Ellison knocked on her office door telling her to go home from the night. Staring at her screen for another hour isn’t exactly going to help.

She shrugs her purse over her shoulder and hails a cab.

The three story walk up to her apartment is excruciating as her feet scream for sweet relief.

She fumbles around with her keys and finally unlocks the door. The inside of her apartment is pitch black as she kicks of her feels, feeling along the wall to flick on the lights.

She turns around and what she sees makes her yelp and grab her .380.

There, in the middle, stood Frank Castle. His large frame taking up all the space. Immediately, there’s a hand on her mouth and she’s pushed roughly against the wall. His huge body up against hers.

She breathes hard against his rough, calloused hand as he gently shushes her, surprised by just how gentle he was.

“Sh. Sh. It’s just me.” Once she’s quieted down, he lets go and steps back.

“What the fuck are you doing here Frank.”She spits angrily at him. He doesn’t react though, he stays composed except for a raised eyebrow.

She stalks towards him, throwing her purse to the side.

“You were gone for six FUCKING months and you just show up?”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry about the Schoonover thing-” He starts apologizing, his gaze on her.

“You think I give a shit about Schoonover right now?” Now, that gets a reaction out of him. He furrows his brows and stares down at the floor trying to figure out what just came out of her mouth.

“Are you angry at the fact that I was gone or the fact that I came back?” His voice was rough and gravelly, as if the words were a struggle to get out.

There’s a tense pause. Where the only sound was Karen’s heavy breathing. His eyes remained steady on hers, she couldn’t find the power within her to pull away.

He just stood there, waiting, watching, reading her like an open book. She guesses that’s why she enjoyed his company so much. He never lied, but he also just knew what needed to be said or what needed to be done just by looking, observing.

She whispers it, and he barely hears it. “That you were gone.” She runs a nervous hand through her hair and walks past him to make some coffee. She knows he’d want a cup, so she doesn’t even ask.

He sits down on a barstool and the only sign physical sign of any emotion is the rhythmic tapping of his trigger finger on the edge of the table.

She lets the silence settle like a blanket over them, the whistle of the coffee machine as loud as a sledgehammer in her home.

“You know. It should be the second one.” He says quietly. “You shouldn’t- you shouldn’t want me back, Page.” A tremor betraying his voice.

She pours the steaming hot coffee into two mugs and hands one to him.

“Then why are you here?”

“Two men were trailing you.” He says, anger flaring up inside, he clenches the mug tightly in his fist.

She isn’t shocked. She’s been poking around places she shouldn’t, digging around for classified information that involves dangerous and powerful people. She doesn’t ask whether they are dead or not, she knows the answer to that. She can see it in the taut muscles of his shoulders. In the clench of his fist and the sharp intake of breath he took mentioning the two men. She noticed these things. The small things. The things that mattered most, especially with Frank.

“Do you want some cookies with that?” She saw him relax a bit, relieved she wouldn’t have to deal with an even colder side of him. “They’re the ginger snap ones.”

He smiles a small smile, almost a ghost, recalling the memory of Karen telling him how she hid in the broom closet with her cookies.

“Gosh, Frank Jr. He was trouble, that kid. Shit. He’d- He’d put all those damned cookies in there. Because of that stupid TV show he made me watch with him every Sunday morning. Sesame Street. He was in love with the friggin’ cookie monster. And, God, Lisa would steal them just to get to him.” He starts laughing quietly. Sadness overtaking his handsome features.

She starts giggling quietly at the thought of Frank, the Punisher, being forced onto a couch by a little boy to watch Sesame Street. She looks up at him and sees that look. That look she just doesn’t understand. She’d caught him looking at her like that a handful of times only, and every single time, it made the tips of her ears red and her toes tingle.

She smiles at him, she likes it when he remembers. She sees a glimpse of who he had been before. Despite what he said, he had a face made for smiling. Even the little ones prove that right. The way his eyes would crinkle at the corners or how he had deep smile lines and dimples. How is eyes would light up when he’d talk about his kids or his wife. She respects that, their memory, the pain that it brings him, the sorrow.

“Tell me more.” She can still feel a bit of the anger simmering within, but she deems it a waste of time. This is more important. He’s more important. He breathes in deeply, debating whether or not he should just leave, get out of her life. But, he doesn’t.

“You know, Maria. She uh, every Sunday, she’d make us a big ass breakfast. Didn’t matter if she was pissed at me, or the kids were annoying her, she always did it. Always.” At first, there was a lot of hesitation, pauses, but once he got going, the stories flowed easily, the smiles showed up more frequently, and laughter happened more often.

It was with a lighter conscious and a soaring heart that Frank leaves that morning, when the sun was nearly up.

“Goodbye, Frank. Be careful.” She says, sincerely, her hand hovering, deciding against laying a hand on his forearm.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replies, that look she doesn’t understand looking at her.

His heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway as she slides the door shut.

She knows that asking him about his family was deflection, but it was needed. That man lived with a heart made out of lead and it wasn’t getting any lighter. Tonight he just, felt like he couldn’t or wouldn’t talk about why he came back. Why he came back to her, in particular. She ignored the butterflies floating around in her stomach at the prospect. The Punisher doesn’t love. But maybe Frank Castle does.

He doesn’t show up on a schedule. He just shows up whenever he wants. Sometimes he’s there before she gets home from work and has takeout and coffee. Sometimes he waits on her fire escape and knocks on the window. On really bad days, she’d get a text that would say to join him on the roof.

Another six months pass, a rocky six months, but a whole lot better than the six before.

This time she hears a thump on her door she rarely opens it without a gun but she hears him groan a :”It’s me, Ma’am.”

She swings the door open and finds him leaning heavily against the wall, blood dripping on the door mat.

“Oh my god, Frank.” It’s not the first time she’s seen him bloody, but it leaves a pang in her chest every time.

“Bathtub.” With that he practically topples onto her and she barely keeps her knees from buckling under his weight. She half drags half pulls Frank into her bathtub and reaches for her first aid kit that has been equipped with more than the basic since she started dealing with dangerous crowds.

“Take this off” She starts gingerly pulling at his heavy duty jacket, hoping he doesn’t have a shoulder injury.

“Dislocated shoulder, popped it back in.” He mutters while helping her. She gags a little.

His black shirt is soaked in blood. She sees that he has a hard time lifting his left arm up and just goes to cut it.

“Here, this’ll be easier.” She cuts down the front of his shirt revealing three large gashes on his right side and a deep bullet graze on his left.

She has to look away for a few moments, willing herself not to vomit, keeping whatever Indian takeout she ate earlier in her stomach.

“All four of these are going to need stitches and I’m not good at them.”

“It’s alright, Ma’am, it won’t hurt any more than when I got’em.” She sighs at the absurdity of the situation, but exits the bathroom to get herself a bottle of whiskey to steady her hands.

“Ok, I’m good.” He chuckles at the wince she makes after drinking a large sip.

She grabs the antiseptic wipes and gently passes over them. She knows how much this hurts, but Frank goes through without complaint, only a wince and groan every once in awhile to indicate any discomfort.

“You know, you’re only the second person to receive the Karen Page stitches treatment.” She declares, after preparing the thread and sterilizing the needle.

“Was the first on Red?” He asks, gruffly.

“Ya,” she laughs,” he uh, cut himself with a knife while trying to cook.” She starts stitching, earning a wince from Frank. “Sorry.”

“ S’alright. So you didn’t hold on with both hands?” Recalling the conversation in the diner.

She chuckles sadly, but pleased with herself that her hands aren’t shaking as much. “It’s hard to hold on with both hands when he’s actively in love with someone else.”

She could feel him tense under her hands, his breathing coming out a little harder.

“Well, Altar boy’s an idiot.” She’s taken aback by his statement, her hands stilling. Does that mean?… No, it can’t be.

She continues to do the stitches quietly, trying to do them as neat as possible.

After maybe an hour and a half she’s done all four.

She grabs some gauze and some tape and starts bandaging all the cuts making sure they don’t irritate his skin. The whole time he’s just watching her with that look she doesn’t understand. The one that makes the tips of her ears red and her toes curl.

Once done , she stands up and grabs a towel and wets it with warm water. Hey, he asked her to take care of him and she wasn’t going to do this half-assed.

“Ma’am, I can do that on my own.” His dark eyes watching her movements.

“You wanted me to help, I’m helping.”

She gently swipes at his forehead, wiping the blood away. Running the cloth over the sides of his nose, treading extremely gently under his eyes where there are two bruises that are as dark as night. She goes over his cheekbones and the swell of his lip.

She couldn’t help but admire how good he looked, despite the bruises, the cuts and the blood. If he noticed the sharp intake of breathe, he probably took it as a reaction to all the gore. But it wasn’t. By the time, she got to going over his chest, he had practically fallen asleep over her shoulder. She liked the steady weight of him, it reassured her, comforted her. Is that what he’d become? The Punisher, the man who killed criminals mercilessly was now dozing off on her shoulder in the confines of her bathroom. He had become her failsafe, her life line and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was his.

Once she was done, she gently shook him awake. “Take a shower, I’ll be back with some clothes. Towels are in the cabinet on top.”

He stared at her with a mix of confusion and bewilderment before she left.

She scoured her closet for an XXL shirt she really liked sleeping in hoping it’d fit the broad expanse of his shoulders. She closed her eyes in relief when she found a pair of men’s sweatpants at the bottom of her drawers that could’ve belonged to a one night stand.

When she heard the water stop, she knocked on the door and earned a grunt in response.

He opens the door half way, steam escaping the gap. She sadly catches herself staring. He was shirtless before, but now she noticed. His broad chest, the chiseled muscles and the protruding collar bones. He was holding a towel around his waist only showing off the V of his hips.

She clears her throat, seeing him with a smug smirk on his lips. “Here’s the only stuff i could find.”

“Ma’am, I don’t wear sweatpants.” She rolls her eyes.

“You’re going to have to tough it tonight, Marine.” And he smiles at that, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. She beams with pride. He takes the clothing from her and shuts the door.

It’s well past 4 AM but she goes to make another pot of fresh coffee. She was going to have to be in the office in five hours, might as well make one now. She hears him scuffling around in the small bathroom.

She hears the soft padding of his feet on the wooden floors. He walks up to the counter, rubbing a rough hand over his short hair. She couldn’t help but admire the slightly too tight fit of his shirt. No shame in that, he looked like a man who worked out… even if it was for his… nightly activities.

She clears her throat and hands him a mug, he hums appreciatively. She had a million questions buzzing around in her mind, but she knew that if she asked the wrong one, he’d back out and leave.

“How?” A a bit of tension leaves his body, now that she’s asked whatever she’d wanted to ask. This was ok, this was safe territory, he could work with this.

“There were more than I expected, but for once they were smart about it. Lined up real nice and shit.” He sips a little bit of his coffee.

“Hmm.” Is all she responds with. There’s not much else to say. She knows what job he was working on. She’s been keeping tabs on him and he’s been very kindly keeping her updated. He convinces himself it’s to give her leads, but it’s mostly to warn her and keep her out of harm’s way, even if the danger comes to Karen Page, or vice versa.

“Have you seen Red lately?” He asks, catching her off guard. Her eyebrows raise slightly at the sudden change of subject and how he’s suddenly so… talkative. Normally, she always asked the question and he answered with grunts, curt nods and the occasional Yes, Ma’am, No Ma’am, Please, Mrs. Page…

“No, I haven’t. We haven’t really… Is he bothering you?” Sh. e knows that they bump into each other during their escapades, and probably gets a lecture just like her.

“Ya. He gave me the new shiner. Fuckin’ Altar Boy.” He sees the flickers of emotion pass through her face, anger, surprisingly, he still can’t wrap is head around the fact that Karen even cares enough to be angry, and then, the most adorable little snort passes through her lips. A giggle is pulled out of the cute blonde and she tries to hide it with the back of her hand.

“Sorry, it’s just. Altar Boy.” She snickers, she knows she’s being ridiculous. She’s heard him call Matt that before, it’s just the way he says it that was so funny. As if, saying the words insulted him.

“Ya, he was up on the roofs with me, his catholic righteous ass. No killing tonight, Frank.” He says, doing the most incredible impression Karen has ever witnessed. She’s gaping at him with her mouth wide open and blue eyes shining bright. And then she busts out laughing. Honest to god laughter, that resonates deep in his chest. She’s clutching her stomach, tears of happiness threatening to spill.

“Oh my god, do it- do it again” She asks, now staring at him intently and giggling like a little girl.

God, her smile. And just to see her laugh again, just to see a smile grace those beautiful lips, he gets up, and pretends to be Matt Murdock.

“You know he’s all - Frank, not tonight. And he does the thing with the stick.” And mimics the movement and now Karen is laughing so hard she’s fallen off the chair and clutching her stomach and while it dies down Frank’s just looking at her. The way she’s learned to like, the way that sent tingles down her spine.

And for a while they stay silent. Frank’s deep in thought, his eyes trailing over her. She’s become his lifeline, his salvation. She’s this bright white light in the consuming darkness that is his life. Lately, he’s been teetering off the edge. On the face of a cliff, fighting to find purchase. But, she, this stubborn, smart, gorgeous, beautiful strong woman was the only thing keeping him together.

And that realisation hadn’t hit him like a truck, it didn’t drop kick him in the chest and hit him the face like one of Red’s fucking batons. It just was. She just became the thing he needed. Maybe, he should’ve seen it coming, the way he always came back, should’ve been some sort of indication. But, she just slipped into whatever was left of his life so seamlessly.

And he liked it, no, he loved it. And he wasn’t supposed too. He said it that night too, I won’t ever feel that again. But, shit, he fucking does. Every time he sees her strawberry blonde hair and her pretty blue eyes. Every time she walks in after a hard day of work and makes him coffee anyways. Every time she makes him remember and every time she’s there.

Suddenly, she’s really close to him, in his face. “Hey, where did you go?” She asks, and she says it with so much emotion, so much kindness, like someone who cared. And who in their right mind would care about him, no one. But, she did, and that’s all that mattered.

He looks up and stares straight into her eyes. Then, he looks up at the ceiling, sending a prayer up to Maria. Deep down, he knew that she’d be happy for him.

He looked back at Karen, his Karen and slips a rough calloused hand onto her cheek and slides into the back of her hair. She leans into it with the softest sigh that he swears sounds like angel’s wings.

“Tell me to stop.” He says, his voice low, rough and so raw. She opens her eyes again, slowly. He oh so gently cups her face into his hands and rubs a thumb over her cheekbones. “Tell me to go away and that I’m bad for you.” And all she does is look at him with those sparkling doe eyes and she smiles.

“Never.” And he smiles back, and it doesn’t feel foreign anymore, not with her. He pulls her to him and places the gentlest of kisses to her rosy pink lips. And it’s everything he’s imagined it to be. They’re soft and warm, and she feels so, so real. And he can’t stop. It’s soft and innocent, but it means so much, it’s pouring any words left unsaid and any emotions left untold.

And maybe, just maybe, this time, he’d take his own advice… he’d hold on, hold on with both hands and never let her go

@kcstles @kteague

#the punisher #frank castle #karen page #fanfiction #kastle #kastle fic #frank castle x karen page #karen page x frank castle #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fic #karen page fic #marvel fanfic #daredevil #kastle library

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brazenautomaton · 6 years

Text

Fixing Heart of the Swarm’s Story, Part 4

Last time we covered Zerus, where Kerrigan gets her purple suit back. Once Kaldir, Char, and Zerus, are completed, it’s time to go on the offensive. Mengsk’s/Narud’s mole in the Golden Fleet has been ensuring any planet you can build up on has been cleansed (and since we don’t want to extinct the Primal Zerg, we need to mention that that’s half the reason we’re not establishing a force on that planet, the other half being that any brood we leave behind will be eaten). So we need to go after his shit instead of building sand castles for him to kick over. At this point we unlock Skygeirr Station and Dominion Space.

We have the Primal Kerrigan upgrade at this point, but Abathur reminds us, we don’t now nor will we ever have the raw power of the Queen of Blades, who could micromanage billions of Zerg with the raw force of her psychic power. We have superior resilience, superior adaptability, superior ability to mold ourselves to the situation we face. Like, you know, the Zerg.

Skygeirr Station

Skygeirr is a station orbiting around in the atmosphere of a caustic, inhospitable planet that’s hidden by virtue of the fact it’s so inhospitable to Terran life nobody wants to go there. In it, “Emil Narud” / Samir Duran performs secret experiments on Protoss/Zerg hybrid, with Mengsk’s blessing and material support. There’s Tal’Darim Protoss in the core of the station platform that I guess the Dominion workers don’t know about?

We’ve had more time for Stukov to talk to us about how much he fucking hates Duran and all the suffering and chaos he’s caused, AND we’ve hopefully established a strong, or strongER, link between Duran and Mengsk. Between Kaldir and here and Mengsk smugly calling back to him, we should think he’s a smug little cocksucker who hides behind others and turns them against each other because he can’t stand up in a fight, and we’re going to fucking pwn his face.

Also, for Mission 3 to work, we need to have Kerrigan throw a bone to / be shown working with each of her 3 action-capable underlings, or at least Zagara and Stukov. Because we could have got each one of the in the mission immediately previous, it might be jarring if it looks like they become super loyal right away.

Mission 1 of Skygeirr, “Infested” has one big change that would have to happen no matter what, and then some other ones to fit in this story. The big change, of course, is that the mission can’t be about infesting Terrans, because Kerrigan and Stukov both had that happen to them and it’s driven them to revenge; they can’t inflict it on others. Instead, we’re going to say that this facility makes a lot of Zerg biological waste -- they do lots of experiments with it, after all -- and it’s kept in silos on the outside of the facility, isolated for safety’s sake, until a periodic ship comes to pick it up and dump it into the star. Sending the Infestors to make virophages on these silos causes them to basically infest all the dead Zerg sludge to pull out any useful biomass, resulting in a stream of Broodlings that spit acid, and by sheer coincidence have the stats of the infested Terran units from the previous iteration of the mission. The Broodlings are described as “little more than a living shard of anger”, which Kerrigan will say can add up into a river, and she knows she can point it in the right direction. Because controlling Zerg, flow of emotions, etc. They still fall apart when the Terran mystery gas leaks, because they’re unstable and have low constitution.

Narud should have more of a presence in this mission, mocking or taunting Kerrigan and by extension the player. It should go without saying, this can’t be Azmodan-tier “you may have defeated the last 67 of my invincible guys but guy 68 is INVINCIBLE!” taunting. It should be stuff about Kerrigan throwing her life away, being unsubtle and unable to understand what’s going on, can only interact with things by smashing them so all she wins is destruction and ruin, etc. Kerrigan can shoot back about his cowardice, hiding behind other people, all his men are terrified and disloyal and when they flee there’ll be nobody to hide behind, etc. (Easter Egg conversation when you get the “kill 60 units with Neural Parasite dominated units” achievement: “Of course my men are going to be disloyal, you keep flinging neural parasites at them!” “If they actually felt any connection to your side, they’d be able to fight it off in about ten seconds.”)

Also, we gotta throw a bone to Zagara, but it’s hard, because we also need Zagara to be missing for the duration of one mission and we cannot yet tell the player why. So, ideally, this mission would have playable Zagara alongside Kerrigan, and they’d have battle dialogue showing respect for each other and a connection. But you need a suite of abilities for Zagara to be a hero Queen (I think an independent mobile supply of larva like a Hatchery, Creep Tumors that don’t need to go on Creep, and either free Transfusions or faster energy regeneration), and if you do, the mission needs to be something that highlights those abilities. If I could do that, I’d make it something like “the mystery gas health-drains all your units except heroes, workers, and larva (maybe burrowing saves certain units, like infestors and swarm hosts), mineral patches are gold and you have more gas, so it’s about using the Zerg ability to build units simultaneously instead of a queue and react to the type of army your opponent has in order to support the Broodling stream, and Zagara helps with that by being your mobile building base.” But I’m afraid I’ve already used up enough of my “change mission credits”.

So if I can’t change that mission, then before the mission, Kerrigan needs to have a conversation with Zagara and send her on a mission. Problem is, we can’t yet tell the player what that mission is. So she has to lay it on a little thick, I need you to do something special for me, you’re the only one who can do it, because you led your brood to flourish on Char for years with no support, through lava trenches and acid swamps, against the Dominion opposition, etc etc etc. And then she’s gone for a mission. That could be the bone thrown to Zagara, but it’s pretty blunt. If I can change mission 1, then an abbreviated version of this happens during the mission, and she’s absent from the Leviathan in mission 2.

After completing MIssion 1, Stukov also finds there’s a bunch of infested Terrans who are already there, because they’re either experiments, or results of insufficient lab safety by the Dominion. He wants to take those guys in and see if there’s something he can do for them or with them, clearly having A Thing about his own infestation and feeling as though he’s abandoned or betrayed his men, or humanity in general. Kerrigan says “Alexei, that isn’t really how the Zerg work, they don’t have their own thoughts any more... But there is a chance they could be brought back to their own consciousness, and if anyone can do it, it’s you. I’ll have Izsha clear some of the Leviathan out for you to hold them in. I’m warning you though, if they go crazy and attack the rest of the crew, I’m gonna be really miffed.” She acknowledges his feelings and that this is important to him, and empowers him to pursue his own emotional resolution, showing she respects him as a person and respects his capabilities. She presents the idea they could be a danger, which makes it have weight that she lets him do this, but understates her anger, showing that she doubts it’s going to happen. This is her bone thrown to Stukov.

Okay, that was a lot! Mission 2, “Hand of Darkness”, needs less changing. We can’t say it’s identical (all of the mission dialogue is bad, so it all has to change to be in line with the things we’re doing), but it requires few high-level changes, they’re mostly “make dialogue that is in line with what we’re doing”. You’re in the heart of the Terran facility where they have Protoss/Zerg hybrids, you need to kill them, and when they’re sprung from containment cells, they start a timer before Kerrigan dies so you gotta kill them first.

Now, the whole “timer on psychic attack” thing works fine and doesn’t need changing on its own -- but it’s redundant with a change I wanna make in mission 3 to fix something that doesn’t work, so it has to change to accommodate that. Off the top of my head, there could be a fail-safe system that does something Kerrigan doesn’t want (floods the level with a super-concentrated version of the gas from mission 1? if it crashes the station into the planet, she could in theory just pop a containment cell and leave to kill Narud, but then her unwillingness to do that could be explained later). Anyway, it’s some other mechanism causing the 5-minute death timer. We can have Dehaka, not playable but giving dialogue, running around in the ductwork, tearing and chomping wiring in an attempt to break the security systems, and that’s the tiny little bone we throw to him.

Other than that, this mission just needs more presence from Narud being a slimy fuck who we want to stab, and dialogue from the Terran units indicating they’re paranoid and holing up and not sure who to trust, which plays into Narud’s theme and hints to the player “hey, drag those hybrids over to the Terran units, they’ll fight!”

MIssion 3, “Phantoms of the Void”. This is the only other ZvP mission, because somehow a bunch of Protoss were hiding in this high-security Terran facility. Roll with it, or use it to show how manipulative Narud is. Anyway, this is the mission with the stupid fucking DBZ Beam O’ War between Kerrigan and Narud while Stukov runs around and deactivates temples, then the stupid fucking fight with Narud where she gets owned by basic shapeshifter tricks. In addition to being stupid, the order of this is wrong. She overpowers him in beam o war, then gets fucking humiliated by him afterward, in a way that doesn’t flow. She also gets picked up by her minions and saved, off screen, abruptly.

So instead of that, you’re going into that mission with just Kerrigan, and she’s telling Narud somethign like “You’re almost out of bodies to hide behind. I’m going to make you beg me to spare your life, Narud. Then I’m going to make you beg me to end it.” Narud is clearly nervous, has one last ditch attempt, etc. He attacks her psychically, using the power of all those temples you have to disarm. If she was the Queen of Blades, she could no-sell it and keep going, but she’s not, so she crumples. Narud taunts her unconscious body, “Now, your Swarm will consume itself, and then I will dissect what remains of you.”

Zagara, Dehaka, and Stukov all notice this, that you’re fallen and defenseless. And then Zagara and Stukov say “We have to save her!” (Dehaka wants to consume your essence but they put the kibosh on it.) Zagara’s on a friendly AI team, her unit is on the little platform with Kerrigan, constantly casting Transfusion on her and throwing out drones to spawn Zerg buildings that can ablate some of the damage (Kerrigan’s HP takes the place of the beam timer). Stukov has the same role, he’s your hero unit and he is the one who disarms the temples, but he’s less “the hand of Kerrigan” and more “oh God how am I supposed to do this I am not good with the Zerg” in tone. The whole moment is about your friends coming together to save you. Because these fucking weirdo space monsters are your friends and your relationship means something and it pays off. And emphasizing that they’re kind of uncertain how to do the thing shows why they need you, too, but having them triumph shows how determined they are to save you even if it’s hard.

So you fight off the Protoss and destroy the amplifier temples and save Kerrigan. At this point, you’ve taken everything this conniving, manipulative fuck can throw at you, so when you kick open the door to his inner sanctum, he should be terrified. He runs from Kerrigan and trips in panic. She grabs him and he turns into Raynor, says something like “Wait, It’s me! You don’t want to hurt--” and she slaps the living shit out of him with her spiky, clawed Zerg hand. Maybe do the gag where he cycles through forms that should have meaning to Kerrigan, and she keeps slapping him through them. Because we’re showing “Hey, this guy has a ploy to use her emotions against her, and it doesn’t work!” He fights futilely and she juuuust owns the shit out of him, until he’s on his knees. He begs for his life like a pathetic, mewling wretch, promising that he’ll work for her against Mengsk, just please don’t kill him. And she says “Why are you worried? I’m not going to kill you.” and steps to the side to reveal Stukov, smiling evilly. Stukov is all “Hello, ‘Samir’,” and then Narud starts begging Kerrigan not to let Stukov get to him, as we zoom out and/or cut away.

#starcraft 2 #fixing stories

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