#and it matters equally whether I keep it in my pocket or cut it in half or toss it in the trash.
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#seriously though. why does it take being on the brink of annihilation to make any progress.#why does it take being ten minutes away from never breathing again before I realize that the dream I was always afraid of is now achievable#can't study until ten minutes before the test. can't realize your life goals and dreams until five minutes before you fucking die#well the good news is I've realized that my social anxiety and speech issues are maybe manageable enough#that maybe what I've always wanted to do isn't totally impossible due to my own personal shortcomings anymore#color says shit#like. I'm only about to think clearly about myself and my identity and my goals when I hit the point of not caring about anything at all#and I just sit back and toss my life around like a bouncy ball and go hmm what should I do with this thing hhmm?#and it matters equally whether I keep it in my pocket or cut it in half or toss it in the trash.#it's just so fucking annoyinggggg.#anyway. don't even be worried. I live like this constantly. it's probably not good for me but oh well. consider me like an art exhibit#or maybe an animal at the zoo. I'm just a curiosity.#maybe less of an animal at the zoo. they have people who take care of them. lions don't have to do their own taxes and cook dinner#tag talk
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Cap Doesn’t Like Bullies - Steve Rogers
Synopsis;
Your daughter meets her biggest hero to which you’re completely oblivious to the fact during the entire encounter. Her confidence certainly didn’t waver like you had expected it would of a child meeting someone such as Captain America.
Bruh I’m in love with him. LOOK AT HIS FACE!
Warnings: FLUFF! Rude ass stranger. A lil bit o’ language. A sassy child.
Words: 3,305
Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader (female reader) (single mom!reader)
(A/N: I named the daughter Kira but you can happily change it. It’s just a name I can easily associate with a child for some reason lmao.)
(A/N 2: I fixed as many mistakes I could find and hopefully, it’ll be more bearable to read lmao.)
Chapter 2 >
_______________
“Mommy,” Kira, your little girl whined.
“Yes baby?” You swung your conjoined hands widely causing her to giggle which in turn, made you smile.
“Can we go to the park today?” Her Captain America backpack bounced on her shoulders with each step. The mostly blue bag clashed yet also complimented the very pink, puffy coat that she wore.
You looked down at her with a raised eyebrow as you watched her for a reaction. “Really? In this weather?”
Kira threw her head back and groaned before exasperatingly replying as if it were the most obvious thing she could have ever spoken. “YES! If we’re at the park, I’ll want to run around and running around will keep me warm. It’s always cold at home but you won’t let me run around.”
A smart little drama queen.
You desperately tried to hide your amusement because you know if she senses that you hadn’t taken her seriously, even more dramatics would be added. “That’s because we can’t run around inside. We might-“
“We might break something. I KNOW! Ugh…” Her feet drag slightly as she walks. She huffs and lowers her head, watching her feet as you move along the sidewalk. You smirk ever so slightly as you watch the top of her head which adorned a woolly hat in an attempt to keep her warm in the season of winter.
“We can go to the park-“ She perked up instantly with a gasp, looking up at you with wide, hopeful eyes. “ONLY, and only, if we can get burgers, too.”
She pauses her steps and looks up at you with a stern, serious expression as she thrusts her hand forward, prompting you to take a hold of it. “You’ve got yourself a deal!” Kira shook your hand firmly and rapidly before she began to pull you along in the direction of the park that was honestly too cold to be sat in.
You huffed a chuckle as you allowed your 6 year old to pull you along the pavements and closer to the large open space of the park.
_______________
The inside of the small Brooklyn burger joint was certainly warmer than the harsh weather that lashed at your face and every inch of exposed skin at the park. Your daughters face matched her coat in colour by the time you reached the building.
Waiting in line, your daughter wormed her hands out of the sparkly knitted gloves, stuffing them in her coat pocket before tearing her hat off of her head and stuffing that in the other available pocket. You chuckled as she tried to brush the mess of locks down with her hands and the cheesy grin she flashed you only made your laugh more.
The missing baby tooth at the forefront of her mouth adding a funny effect to the adorable face you had the tendency to squish between your hands tenderly.
The person in front of the two of you had just finished ordering and just as you were about to step forward with your daughter at your side, someone had rudely pushed in front of you, effectively cutting you off.
You scoffed at the sheer audacity this man had in believing he could cut the line, but it was your daughter who spoke up. Sometimes you cursed yourself for teaching her to stand up for herself in situations as these. You forget your daughter has a vote of confidence like no other and will speak her mind, even if the person is nearly 4 times her height.
Of course, these lessons were meant for her to deal with people her size and age, fellow students who bully her or others, seeing as she’s only 6, not for grown ass adult males.
“Cutting is rude. You should wait in line like everybody else mister.” You heard the pissed tone she spoke with and couldn’t decide whether to find it adorable, humorous, or concerning.
You heard the man scoff and honestly, your blood began to boil. He turned towards the two of you and looked you up and down as if scrutinising you before peering down at your daughter with disinterest.
“I’m ordering for one, you’re ordering for two. I haven’t got time to wait for mama bear to order with her equally scruffy little cub.” He rolled his eyes and looked towards the employee who honestly, looked just about as pissed as you did.
You clenched your fist and took a deep breath in the hopes of calming down. Honestly, it hadn’t worked well. “If you’d asked nicely, we would have happily let you order before us. There isn’t any need to be rude, especially to my kid.”
He heaved a deep sigh before turning to look at the two of you once more. He opened his mouth to no doubt retort back with yet another rude remark but someone elses’ voice swiftly cut him off. “I believe you should listen to the young lady and wait your turn like everybody else.”
The stranger, mighty handsome stranger you might add, with beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair smiled down at your daughter and sent her a discreet wink. She beamed up at the tall stranger as he turned to look towards the man who had rudely cut you off in line, his features hardening.
“You should apologise and move yourself to the back of the line. What you’ve said was unacceptable and certainly no way to speak to a woman and her child.” He folded his arms over his chest, his muscles, even though hidden behind the material of his long sleeves, bulged with incredible size.
The man that had cut the line looked up at your saviour and gulped but relatively kept his features schooled. “No chance. I only said what’s true. Why should I be punished because of that?”
The stranger chuckled humourlessly as he stepped forward, the incredibly rude man taking a step back out of fear. “Whether what you said was true or false, which was absolutely false, doesn’t matter. You disrespected another in not only speaking to them as if they’re below you, but by simply cutting in line in the first place.”
“Yeah. You’re just a bully. Bullies are rude and always cut in line,” your daughter chirped with pride. The stranger smiled down at your daughter and nodded his head.
“That’s right, sweetie.”
The man scoffed before turning towards the employee stood behind the counter. “Are you really going to let him speak to a paying customer like that?” he asked incredulously.
The employee had a smirk cross her lips and she popped her hip out before folding her arms in front of her. “You haven’t paid for anything. Now, please leave before I get my manager to call the cops to have you removed.”
The man huffed indignantly before grumbling and stomping pass the handsome stranger, shoulder checking him on the way. The stranger rolled his eyes before catching a hold of the mans’ arm and pulling him back slightly. “You still haven’t apologised.”
“Sorry.” His tone was fake and nothing but sarcastic but nonetheless, the stranger released him, probably knowing that was the best apology they should expect from him.
The small interior of the place slowly bustled back to its quiet chatter of the few customers inside. The stranger smiled down towards the two of you and you couldn’t help but be enraptured with how perfect his smile was.
“Are you ladies alright?”
Your daughter rapidly nodded her head, grinning widely once more. “Sure are mister. Thank you!”
You cleared your throat, shaking yourself out of your reverie and smiling up at him. ‘Stop gawking at him, idiot!’
“Uh, yes. Thank you.”
His smile seemed to widen, and he looked quite bashful and oh god, your stomach did flips when looking at him. “It’s nothing, ma’am. I don’t tolerate bullies, I suppose.”
Kira gasped and her eyes lit up. “Like Captain America! The Cap doesn’t like bullies, either!”
The stranger chuckled and lowered himself to your daughters’ height. “Yep, like Captain America.” Honestly, he seemed almost pleased at the connection, but you couldn’t place why. Although, if you were say compared to someone like Black Widow, you certainly would feel chuffed yourself, so you couldn’t blame him.
You failed to realise you were staring at the stranger, again, until you felt a small tug on your arm. You snapped yourself out of small daydream to look down at your daughter. “Ask him if he wants to join us,” she whispered although by the huff of laughter that he tried, and failed, to supress, he clearly heard.
“Uh, yeah. Would you like to join us…?” You trailed off, hoping the stranger would give you his name. He seemed to pick up on his lack of introduction as he stood to his full height, once again towering over you.
He held his hand out before him for you to take, which you did. “Steve.”
“Well, would you like to join us, Steve? We’d like to thank you for standing up to that rude man and pay for your meal if you haven’t eaten yet.”
“Well, that’s a really nice offer…” Now it was his turn to trail off.
“Y/N!” your daughter exclaimed loudly. “And I’m Kira!”
He chuckled. “Y/N. And Kira. But I was actually going to offer to pay for your meals.”
“Oh, no. That’s oka-“
“Thank you, Steve!”
You looked down at your daughter with wide eyes as she cut you off and accepted the strangers’ offer. Steve chuckled and glanced down at Kira. “Very well. Should we order then?”
Kira grasped your hand in her smaller one and pulled you to the front of the counter, beckoning Steve to follow. You couldn’t help but shake your head, feeling only ever so slightly embarrassed by your daughters’ antics.
_______________
You daughter was enthralled with whatever came out of Steves’ mouth; completely enraptured with the stories he told. Though, you couldn’t really blame her.
Kira wasn’t one to shy away from conversation, but it had honestly shocked you how versed she became in conversation with the man the two of you had only met 45 minutes prior.
Yes. 45 minutes.
It seemed none of you really wanted to part ways; all enjoying yourselves with flowing conversation and shared smiles.
“So,” Steve started, his arms resting on top of the table that sat between him and you and Kira. “You mentioned Captain America earlier, and you have him on your backpack. Do you like him?”
“Yeah! He’s my favourite hero!” Gosh did she get excited over the topic of heroes.
He chuckled. “And why’s that?”
You rolled your eyes knowing what was coming yet couldn’t stop the fond smile growing on your face. “Well, he’s super cool. He’s brave, kind, strong and he doesn’t like bullies. I don’t like bullies either.” Then, a devilish smile broke out on her small, rounded face. “Mommy likes him too. She thinks he’s pretty. AND SHE HASN’T EVEN SEEN HIS FACE PROPERLY! She’s seen his butt though, looks at it a lot.”
Your eyes widened and the smile was promptly wiped from your face whilst Steve seemingly choked on his spit and laughed nervously. “I think she’s in love with him,” Kira whispered, further embarrassing you.
“OKAY! That’s enough, ha…”
Steve smiled, albeit sheepishly, towards the two of you. “Well, I believe Captain America would think your moms’ pretty, too.”
Kira shrug, shovelling a cold, left over fry from the basket into her mouth. “I know.”
You groaned softly and hid your face behind your hand, slumping in your seat. Your whole face felt hot. Trying to calm your racing heart, you peered at Kira. “Why don’t you tell him about your birthday sweetie?”
“OH YEAH! Mommies taking me to the Captain America display!” Kira bounced in her seat and if her eyes hadn’t already twinkled with excitement, they certainly did now after she’s formulated a plan quickly in her mind. “You should definitely come, mister.”
You and Steve both spluttered at her invitation.
“Oh honey, I don’t think Steve would-“
“W-well, it’s not up to me-“
Kira groaned and rolled her eyes overdramatically before looking at Steve. “Yep. It’s up to me.” She then turned towards you. “And, we can just ask Steve if he would like to.” To which she faced Steve once more, looking at him intently. “Would you like to come too?”
Steve looked extremely apprehensive to answer and looked towards you in the hopes of getting some guidance in what to say. If he were being honest, this past hour he’d felt nothing but calm and happy, forgetting his worries and has actually taken a break from all the responsibilities he’s been handed.
He very much liked both yourself and Kira, feeling content in both of your presences’ and would very much like if he continued to get to know both yourself and Kira more. He just certainly didn’t want to overstep.
He internally cheered for himself when you nodded your head discreetly. Your face told him that the young girl who looked extremely hopeful would certainly not cease until she succeeded in getting what she wanted in this moment.
“Uh…” He turned his gaze towards Kira once more gave her a small smile. “I would love to go to the Captain America display for your birthday.”
Kira cheered loudly and you shook your head with an adoring smile directed to the young girl sat beside you. “Great! You should give your number to my mommy so we can plan it properly.” She sipped on her half-drunken refill of milkshake after speaking so nonchalantly.
Both Steve and yourself felt and looked dumbfounded. Had she really just said that?
Steve chuckled before his eyes darted down towards your phone which was sat face down atop the table. “May I?”
“Oh, uh, yep.” You fumbled with picking your phone up, unlocking it and opening up a new contact before handing your phone over to Steve, face burning and a shy smile adorning your features. Your hands brushed against one another as he carefully took the phone from your hold and typed in his full name and phone number.
He was just about to hand it back to you when Kira swiftly took it and looked at the screen. She shook her head before looking up at Steve. “You gotta add a picture, silly.” She raised the phone after tapping the picture icon atop the contact, pointing it straight at Steve.
The poor man panicked and smiled quite awkwardly as your daughter snapped the photo. You slapped a hand over your mouth to try desperately hide your laugh, which hadn’t really been that successful.
Kira observed the picture on the screen before nodding; she clearly found the picture acceptable for use. Steve couldn’t help but also find it quite amusing and chuckled himself. Your daughter swiftly handed you your phone back but once in your hand, you had spotted the time and your eyes slightly widened.
“Oh wow, is it really that late?” you questioned yourself but prompted Steve to check the time himself by looking down at his watch. You looked up towards him with an apologetic smile and shrugged your shoulders. “Sorry, we really should get going. Kira has school in the morning.”
Steve shook his head and smiled, unbothered by your information. “No, no, it’s perfectly fine. I completely understand.”
“Thank you, and sorry again.” You looked sheepish as you stood and put your own jacket back on before beckoning Kira to stand herself. She pouted but did as she was told, allowing you to help her with her coat, to which she then put her hat back on top her head and gloves back on her small hands.
Steve stood and cleared his throat as he stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. You looked up away from Kira and sent him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen upon someone’s face and miraculously, he felt a lot let nervous.
“Thank you for the wonderful company and the meal,” you spoke with such sincerity that made his heart thump louder and harder than any life threating mission ever could.
“And for standing up to that bully for us,” Kira added.
You huffed laugh. “Yes, and that.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He nodded his head.
Kira stepped forward which prompted Steve to lower himself to her height just as he had done so earlier. “It was nice meeting you.”
“It was nice meeting you too, ma’am.”
She beamed up at him before sticking her hand out and her expression was nothing but serious, one which Steve copied as he took her hand and shook it. “My mommy will text you later about my birthday.” She withdrew her hand before her big, bright smile reappeared. She grasped your hand in hers and waved as she began to pull you out of the burger joint.
“Bye Captain America!”
Your eyes bulged out of their sockets comically and you did nothing but splutter, opening and closing your mouth in the hopes that some words would pass out of you as your daughter pulled you out through the doors and in the direction of your small Brooklyn apartment.
Steve froze and watched wide eyed as you both left through the door, the bell atop jingling when it closed behind you. “Huh. Smart kid.” He shook his head before laughing and standing, collecting his jacket and leaving a tip on the table before slowly exiting the building himself, walking towards his bike ready to head back to the tower, completely dazed and the image of you ingrained into his mind.
Meanwhile, you finally snapped out of your shocked and flustered state halfway down the sidewalk. “YOU KNEW THAT WAS CAPTAIN AMERICA?!”
“Yep,” your daughter replied, popping the ‘P’ and acting completely nonchalant about the whole ordeal.
“AND YOU TOLD HIM I LIKE HIS BUTT?!”
“Yep.”
You narrowed your eyes at the small figure of your daughter. “You little monster.” You swept her up into your arms and began to blow raspberries against her chubby little cheek, causing her to burst into a fit of giggles and loud laughter.
You couldn’t help but laugh along with her and then Steves’ earlier comment came to the forefront of your mind. ‘Captain America thinks I’m pretty! HOLY SHIT!’
You’d dwell on that later though.
“MY MOMMY LIKES CAPTAIN AMERICAS’ BUTT!” Kira shouted as she continued to gasp out giggles and you couldn’t help but laugh and indulge in her silly behaviour.
“I LIKE CAPTAIN AMERICAS’ BUTT!”
Kira roared in laughter once more along with you, and you both continued to find an abundance of humour in the situation the entire walk home.
_______________
“Hey punk,” Bucky spoke as he entered the main, spacious shared living room and spotted Steve sat on the couch, staring at his phone and smiling widely as his eyes scan over the words you had texted him.
“What’s got you grinning like that?” Bucky playfully quipped, a small smirk across his lips.
“Uh, nothing.” It could have been convincing if Steve had looked away from his phone and his already large smile didn’t widen further.
“Sure. Nothing.” Bucky shakes his head and sits beside his friend. “She pretty?”
Usually, Steve would question what made his friend think it was a woman, but he was so dazed and giddy, he couldn’t find it in him to deny it. “She’s so beautiful Buck.”
“Gotta date?”
“Not yet.”
Bucky chuckled and slapped his friends’ shoulder in good nature as he shook his head. “Well, good luck, punk. I hope you get that date.” Bucky stood and huffed a laugh at Steve still grinning at his phone as he left to head towards the kitchen, missing Steves’ mumbled response.
“Me too.”
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Gosh dang do I love this man
That is all
If you want to be added to a taglist lemme know
Anywho, I hope you enjoy
As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D
_______________
Marvel taglist:
@thanossexual @iwazoomingouttahere @xxxtwilightaxelxxx
#steve rogers#steve rogers x#steve rogers x reader#captain america#captain america x#captain america x reader#x reader#x fem#x fem!reader#x female reader#x fem reader#x mom reader#x mom!reader#x single mom reader#x single mom!reader#fluff#marvel#marvel fic#marvel fanfiction#marvel fluff
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— beck and call
pairings : yelena / fem reader
word count : 10.2k
tags : one-sided relationship, lowkey master / servant dynamic, eventual smut, mild body worship, dom / sub undertones, power imbalance
warnings : contains nsfw, mildly dub-con at some points, yelena being physically rough w you for disobedience
summary : serving as yelena's personal guard turned out to yield many unexpected consequences.
to say that you were unnerved by the task of guarding an anti-marleyan volunteer would be an understatement.
you hadn't quite digested the fact there even existed a world beyond the walls that had towered over you for your entire life, looming high in the sky like a reminder that you would be trapped, penned like an animal for the rest of your prospective future. that had been your initial motivation to become a soldier, to at least advance to a garrison position where you could have a taste of exclusive information regarding what lay beyond the stone and metal bearings. but in the final year of your basic training, everything had changed. there were talks of outlandish things, of traitors from another land that had hidden amongst the native people, talks of islands and foreign soil and something more than the confines of the walls.
upon graduating, you had ultimately chosen the scouting legion, seeing how the garrison was quickly being disbanded and the remaining soldiers that hadn't stepped into their early days of retirement were joining the aforementioned regiment. the benefits only seemed to become greater and greater with the extinction of titans, the whispers of allies and retribution and rebuilding a lost legacy of your people. but somehow, all that novel luster had become muted, completely darkened by the imposing presence of this singular individual seated before you. you had only been debriefed on their name and role in military operations before your assignment, leaving you worryingly unprepared for arguably the most important assignment of your career.
the sound of your name passing from your squad leader's lips grounded you, the formal introduction quickly drawing to a close as he relayed the information to the striking foreigner. "she will be your personal escort for the remainder of your stay. if you have any questions regarding the island, feel free to ask her at any time."
"wonderful." their voice was rich, smooth with confidence and underlined with something unfamiliar—it was the way their lips rounded out the first syllable, or perhaps the way they spoke from the depths of their throat.
you felt your back stiffen as they rose from their seat, somehow rising taller and taller, their stature reaching much higher than anyone you'd ever met. immediately, your right hand clamped into a fist, thudding over your heart as your left arm hooked behind your back, spitting out your full name and designation just as you had while saluting hundreds of times. "i'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity to occupy you. thank you for all that you and the volunteers have done for paradis."
you were shocked that your voice hadn't quivered with the way their eyes dragged down your body, grey and barren of any emotion besides a hint of intrigue, sharp features framed by short, fair hair. they were strikingly handsome, masculine yet feminine at the same time, an indiscernible sort of beauty that perplexed and enthralled you.
"no need to thank me, soldier." whether they were assuring or commanding you, you didn't know, only cognizant of how they nearly purred out your title. swallowing, you lowered your hands, standing at ease and forcing yourself to not look to your superior for encouragement.
"then i shall show you to your lodgings. please follow me."
you forced yourself to turn your back to them and take a step, then another, mentally counting them one by one until you reached the door. you could hear their heavy footfalls following behind you, the distance steadily beginning to close until you forced your own pace to quicken. on the silent walk out of the management building, you had found a speed that worked, one long stride of theirs equaling two of yours, leaving you straining to keep a comfortable yet polite space between the both of you. you risked a glance back, having to crane your head up to catch a glimpse of their face. they had been staring idly at the back of your head, meeting your eyes when you turned to briefly face them, the moment cut short by your own haste to fix your view back onto the path before you.
"how shall i address you?" you attempted to fill the cool void of discomfort that had suddenly settled in the air around you, shoulders tense and brow taut.
"anything works."
their answer offered nothing in return to your inquiry, the faint image of their face flitting across your mind. you hadn't looked at them long enough to commit their features to memory, but you had looked enough to remember their startlingly cold eyes, angular nose and full lips, sharp jaw and heavy brow.
"m-miss yelena?" you attempted, fighting the urge to nervously fidget or give away any sign of your unease.
"if it suits you." was their final reply before the two of you fell silent once again.
the lack of discussion persisted through the remainder of the journey, the only sounds occupying the space being the fall of your boots against the ground and the jingle of your keyring that you drew from your pocket to unlock the front door. you stood aside to hold it open as she walked in, feeling an odd sensation flutter in the pit of your stomach when she had to duck under the frame to enter. the housing itself wasn't extravagant, only a single open room with a desk, bookshelf, dresser, kitchenette, bed, and a small bathroom area to the side to occupy the space, the ceiling seeming much lower than it was due to yelena's formidable height. she looked out at the room, flicking a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, face neutral and inexpressive.
"how quaint," she turned to face you, a prick of unease making your posture pin-straight once again, "is there any reason they've put us volunteers away from the main soldier barracks?"
your mind suddenly went blank at the worst of times, unknowing of the exact answer but knowing you had to over something in response. "s-simply for your comfort. we wouldn't like it to seem as if we don't trust you to stay on your own."
"ah, so considerate of you." for the first time she smiled, a barely-there tilt at the corner of her lips that made your heart stutter, "then i'll be sure to make myself at home."
she stepped slowly over to the bookshelf, dragging her fingers over the backs of the books with an apparent interest. you stayed standing where you were, unsure if you should leave then or wait a bit longer for just the right moment. something about her presence was unnerving, but there was also an undeniable allure that you almost gravitated to, despite her being a stranger.
"do you need anything else?" you piped up, letting your hands link behind your back, fingers twisting together.
"not that i can think of." each word seemed scripted, as if she'd practiced this entire conversation a dozen times before it'd ever happened.
"then i'll be on my way." you shakily smiled in an attempt to seem put together, hoping that she didn't immediately see through the weak front, "i'll be back in a couple of hours to escort you to dinner."
you bowed and took your leave, almost desperate to escape her all-consuming gaze and find refuge outside her line of sight. but even after you'd shut the door behind you and stepped off the porch, well on your way down the path you'd taken, you could still feel how her eyes had examined every fine detail of your stance, analyzing every shift and subtle movement you made with a calculating look. deep down, you already knew that this position would be completely exhausting from the get-go.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
you had fulfilled your typical nightly routine—fetch yelena from her quarters to escort her to the cafeteria, go your separate ways and sit at your usual tables after getting food, finish your dinner with five minutes to spare in the dining hour to go inform yelena that it was time for her to wrap up her meal so you could take her back. she'd followed you down the usual path, now lit with newly placed street lamps that turned on after the sun sunk below the horizon and night fell. there had been nothing out of the ordinary, aside from the way the volunteer table had eyed you with a formerly absent intrigue when you came to speak to yelena.
that comfortable distance you'd kept between the two of you had slowly been narrowing over the last few days, a development which had peaked both your curiosity and your anxiety. while you still kept yourself a few paces ahead of her, you could feel how close her presence had become, an almost physical weight that settled itself over your back and urged you to walk faster and faster to escape its grasp. but you knew that she was all too good at reading your body language, somehow having familiarized herself with even the finest idiosyncrasies that incriminated you in just about a month, an understanding that had only grown deeper as more and more time had passed. although you felt as if you'd gained the upper hand for a few days when you realized that she always let a bit of emotion slip in her large, ashen eyes when you said something just enough out of the ordinary to catch her interest, any progress you thought you'd made was quickly squandered by her own advancements. today was no different, another morning and afternoon filled with dodging the occasional pervasive question from her about the simplest of things.
were you an only child? had you been closer to your mother or father when you were younger? did you join the scouts to explore the world or because you simply found no value in living out your life doing something different? they had started out with an ambiguous end-goal, but slowly evolved into even more unprofessional matters—attempts to provoke a discussion about your love life, what you might look for in a prospective partner, whether you wanted to settle down after you retired or stay unattached for the remainder of your life.
you always dodged, and she always let up for a while, lulling you into a sense of safety that was always broken by that same question again, worded differently but asking for an answer that was the same as the last. the more you ran from her company, the more she seemed to push it upon you, pleased when you would slip up and get flustered when she caught you off guard. so you held your ground this evening, even when your fingers quivered at the realization that she was practically peering over your shoulder, watching you unlock the door to her quarters with just barely enough space separating you to not feel her breath fanning down the back of your neck.
you quickly opened the door and began moving to hold it open for her like you always did, but felt a large hand resting at your shoulder, prompting you to quickly spin on your heel to face her. she was usually finished with her casual interrogating by this hour, which was why you were more than surprised to see that she was staring down at you, having lowered yourself to your level enough for you to not have to tilt your head completely back to meet her eye.
you took an instinctive step back, flinching at the sound of the door falling shut behind you, effectively caging you in between it and the woman before you. pale, dangerously alert irises traversed your expression, drinking in every small feature that had been drawn back into a confused look, stomach already knotting into a twisted tangle of warmth and icy panic.
"are you afraid of me?"
the immediate answer sat on the tip of your tongue, lips parting to deliver the lie you had ready for such an inquiry. but something in her eyes spoke to you, silently, warning you not to give into dishonesty. you couldn't possibly admit to still being fearful of her, not when you were meant to be the powerful one in this relationship. you weren't supposed to say yes, but you also found yourself unable to lie as you always did, not when the path you'd walked with her was still worryingly empty and you felt the hard wood of the door now pressing unforgivingly into your back with each minuscule step back.
"sh-should i be?" you cursed your stammer, betraying your evident lack of control, the only redeeming aspect being the non-committal implication that responding with another question held.
that seemed to throw her off a bit, owlish eyes slowly blinking at you as she thought. even up close like this, you couldn't identify a single flaw in her appearance—pale skin smooth like porcelain, unconcerned by any sort of natural imperfections, hair like fine silk and eyes piercingly bright, yet clouded like a stormy sky. you squeaked at a hand seizing your collar, right hand instinctively flying down to the scabbard strapped around your thigh, clammy palm shakily clenching around the hilt of your blade, the other clamping firmly around her wrist.
she only smirked at the presumed threat, pressing herself even closer to you, enough that you could feel the radiant heat of her lips just barely grazing your own. you suppressed the trembling threatening to shake through your every limb, beginning to feel lightheaded with the effort to contain your quickening breaths, swallowing down your dread, forcing yourself to meet her gaze when she spoke.
"if it suits you. it doesn't affect me either way, does it?"
you just barely shook your head side to side, not realizing you were rising up onto your tiptoes until she pulled you forward that last inch by your shirt, eyes falling shut as her lips melded easily against yours. an inexplicable warmth flourished in your chest, heart tripping up to match the frantic speed of your thoughts, fingers clenching around her slender, clothed wrist. you forced yourself back with a sharp intake of breath, backing yourself far enough into the door that you could feel the wood digging into the small of your back.
"m-miss yelena, you can't—!"
she didn't allow you to finish, tugging you back to your previous position with a low huff, the faint snap of a stitch popping somewhere on your collar going unregarded as you let out a small noise of surprise, wide eyes relenting and squeezing shut. a voice in the back of your mind screamed for you to draw your knife, push her away, force her into her quarters, anything but just standing there and allowing her to exert such a humiliating power over you. but it was so much easier to sink into her grasp, to feel her fingers slowly relax and hold you at a comfortable height rather than force you up, to allow the hot flush of an unknown intimacy to settle deep into your skin.
you'd been kissed before, it wasn't as if she stole your first chance from you, but it had never been like this. you had only brushed the surface of gentle pecks and lingering hands on the other's face until you both giggled and pulled away, never faced with such a certain confidence that almost frightened you more than it allured you, an unspoken order that left you at her mercy rather than on equal footing. and though you'd all but forgotten about your initial rejection, yelena had not, chastising you with a firm bite to your lower lip that drew a less-than-composed whimper from the back of your throat.
"i would advise you to not dictate what i can and cannot do in the future." she stated firmly, tone devoid of any personal inflection, barely pulling away enough for you to meet her stare, hand tightening around your collar once more, "understood?"
"y-yes, miss yelena." you barely whispered, nodding affirmatively. a flicker of amusement momentarily lightened her expression when you drew your tongue over the aching skin of your lips, the taste of faint copper and black tea clinging to your taste buds.
she slowly slackened her grip, not even so much as blinking as she straightened her posture and reached past you to open the door, allowing you a moment to scamper out of her path and pull your shirt back into place with trembling hands. "then, you are dismissed, soldier."
she didn't spare you a second glance before proceeding into her quarters, shutting the door behind her without another word. you stood dumbly for a moment, licking over your bottom lip once more, just then realizing how shallow and quick your breathing was. you steadied yourself enough to lock her door, shaking away the mental fog of such an abrupt change of scenery, pulling your jacket tighter around you to make up for the lack of her warmth pressing into you, confused as to why you had just allowed yourself to be ordered around by the individual that you were meant to be keeping in check. the walk back to your dorm was blurry at best, a few good-nights from your colleagues that prompted a hum of acknowledgement, thankfully nothing that required you to recount your daily fulfilled duties or anything past a few minutes prior.
even after you'd shed your clothes, pointedly ignoring how wrinkled your shirt front had become, cleaned yourself up and crawled into the isolated comfort of your bed, you found yourself unable to sleep. perhaps you could learn from this experience, remind yourself at all times to put even more distance between the two of you. maybe you would have to stop conversing with her so casually, or perhaps your best option would be to cut your losses and request an assignment change, consequences or record mark-ups be damned. but as you tossed and turned on your mattress, burying your face into your pillows and trying to rid your skin of any memory of her touch, a voice at the back of your head ceaselessly murmured, a rambled premonition of more turbulence to come.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
this day marked five weeks since the initial incident, there had been no activity like it since—although you couldn't say whether you thought that was a bad thing or not. not to say that you hadn't been keeping your distance, the first few days were spent cautiously looking over your shoulder, making sure to keep her even further than arm's length but still close enough to guarantee that she couldn't slip away on her own. she behaved respectfully enough, although she herself seemed to be acting as if nothing had even happened, greeting you like normal and allowing you to escort her to meals and strategy meetings when necessary, despite how she'd affirmed that you weren't to give her any orders.
you hadn't reported the infraction to any superiors, knowing that you would get caught up in an unnecessary fuss that might even get you stuck at the bottom of the ranking list once again, an unthinkable outcome that only made you sure that the right decision was to keep your mouth shut. the previous afternoon was the first time yelena had made a special request, describing how unfortunate it was that she was lacking just a few proper amenities that would really make her lodgings "feel just like home". your persistent hesitance had eased after the first week of safety, and you fulfilled your responsibility of maintaining her comfort by arriving early this morning, toting a small bag of a dark ground powder and cups.
you were surprised to see that yelena was already awake upon your arrival, seated at a table that looked far too small for her, reading one of the many books from her provided bookshelf. you exchanged polite greetings, her not rising from her place until you'd lit the fire beneath the stove and set out a plate and cup for her at the counter, stowing away the rest in whatever free space you could find. you stood by while she took care of making whatever it was she wanted herself, noting the fragrant richness that had filled the air upon her steeping the powder in heated water.
"they only serve black tea in the cafeteria," she said, speaking to no one in particular, plucking a ladle from the utensil rack, "it's been ages since i had a cup of coffee in the morning."
the heat of the stove was beginning to warm the room, prompting you to shed your jacket and place it on the back of the chair yelena had not been previously seated at. your shirt beneath it was more forgiving, a thin material that had always hung a bit loosely from your shoulders, great for the hotter days when you were still expected to be in uniform.
"have you ever had a cup of coffee?" her voice interrupted your meandering stream of thought, the sound of liquid being poured into a cup faintly catching your attention.
"no, i don't think i have."
"would you like to try some?"
the offer stoked the spark of bothersome curiosity, the scent filling the air and mingling with the ambient sound of crackling wood and the feel of the hot air making you want to accept. perhaps this was her way of making amends, or just doing something pleasant for the worker that she was made to follow behind like their second shadow.
"if it's not too much trouble, then.."
"of course it isn't."
you felt a light sweat beginning to bead down your back, pulling your handkerchief from your pocket and dabbing at your neck. this space wasn't properly suited for a stove to be used, seeing as the unlatching mechanisms on the window had been removed for the sake of thwarting any sort of curfew breaking by the volunteers, meaning there was little ventilation aside from the small chimney extending out of the kitchenette area. you stole a glance at yelena, now opening the cabinet that you had strained to reach with ease.
the memory of her hand fisting your shirt, the collar that now hugged just the slightest bit looser at the base of your neck, the long healed-over bite that had left the soft flesh of your lips feeling raw for the following few days. the external heat of the still burning stove was only intensified by the flush climbing up to your cheeks, the desire to release a button or two on your shirt and free some of your skin to the open air becoming undeniable. it felt a bit ironic that the one time you'd properly stepped into her quarters for more than a quick minute to help her get something sorted was the one time the tension that always hung in the air between the two of you was replaced by something tangibly suffocating, the sweltering heat that made you kick off your blankets in the dreary silence at night when the recollection of her kiss relentlessly looped in your mind and chased away any thought of sleep.
you hooked a finger on the collar of your shirt, gently tugging it to the side to absentmindedly press the soft cloth over the skin, wiping away any bothersome perspiration that would leave you uncomfortable by the time you were allowed to change out of your uniform and shower it away.
"what's that?" your eyes darted up at her question, catching sight of the two plated teacups in her hands before you met her gaze.
"i beg your pardon?" you asked meekly.
"that. at your shoulder." you glanced down to where your handkerchief had previously been.
"oh, do you mean this?" she nodded when you pointed to the raised line of skin marring your shoulder, a thick scar that you'd stopped fussing over after realizing that it was an inevitable outcome. "it's a scar," you clarified, tucking your personal cloth back in your pocket, "just about everyone in the military has the same one."
she didn't respond, but held your gaze as she proceeded to the table to set the cups down. you'd become more accustomed to these silent requests, and you knew that she was telling you to continue.
"you work with the equipment engineers, right?" she nodded. "then you've seen our harnesses. all those leather straps end up digging into our skin and leaving scars pretty much all over. although, i did practice on the omnidirectional gear a bit more than all the other recruits during basic training to increase my proficiency, so mine may be deeper.."
you tensed as she approached, slow, deliberate steps steadily closing the distance between the two of you until she was right in front of you. she had started stooping down more often around you, only when she was directly addressing you alone, but it was something that you noticed all the same. a part of you wanted to feel offended, that she thought it necessary to lower yourself to your level as if you were beneath her in a way besides physical stature, but you couldn't deny that you enjoyed the exclusive treatment. she never seemed concerned with doing any sort of thing with anyone else—not with her colleagues, not with other soldiers of or below your ranking, not with any of your own superiors, only you. in a way, it made you feel acknowledged.
"could i see?"
"huh?" was your unprofessional response, but she didn't allow you any time to correct it.
"your scars. where else do you have them?"
"oh." you swallowed, forcing yourself to look up into her steely eyes, "well, i have them on the soles of my feet, and around my thighs, mostly around my torso."
a hand on your abdomen made your back go stiff, her touch pressing lightly over your shirt. "here?"
you nodded, small and timid before her, a trickle of sweat beginning to slide down your back. you realized that you had never had to look down at yelena, not until this present moment where she had knelt down on one knee in front of you, holding your gaze for just a moment before she undid a single button from the bottom of your shirt, glancing up at you as if to check for any sign of refusal before she undid another, then another.
there was nothing forceful about her motions today, nimble fingers patiently unfastening each clasp with care until your shirt revealed your midsection. one slender hand pulled aside the cotton fabric, the other reaching out, just barely grazing the skin of your stomach where the long, pale scar from your utility belt stretched horizontally across your body. her fingertips were warm from handling the kitchenware, but the shiver that crawled up your spine was cold, almost electric, a strange sensation squeezing around your heart and lungs, making each breath quicker than the last.
"was it painful?" she asked quietly, a tinge of earnesty lining her words, features entirely relaxed as they always were.
you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, voice barely reaching a whisper. "yes."
she focused her eyes onto the marred skin, following the raised line of flesh to your sides, brow cinching upwards the slightest bit at the sight of another carving down your waist, following the curvature of your ribs.
"what resilience.." she murmured, free hand returning to undo the remaining buttons of your shirt, "determination is such a beautiful trait, don't you think?" her eyes flitted up to meet yours, sharp and observant, fingers gingerly wrapping around your waist, thumb stroking down your lumbar. "for most, i have to hear it in their voice, or through their words—but it has always been different with you." she pulled a button free. "i see it in your eyes, the way you carry yourself, it's written all over your body." another undone button, you could feel the warmth of her breath fanning across your stomach, the graze of her fingertips tracing up your side and halting at the cloth wrappings over your breasts. "are there more under this?"
your knees felt a few flattering words away from buckling, each gentle touch making the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. you nodded, lips parting to take in a much-needed deep breath, realizing that your shirt was now completely open, exposing the entirety of your scarred torso aside from what remained covered by your chest bindings. your fingers curled into your palm, trembling, just then noticing how soft yelena's hands were in comparison to your own, absent of callous and work-roughened skin. you bit at the inside of your cheek, blinking down at her as you watched a thin finger trace the seam of the cloth, finding the tucked end within moments and gently pulling it free.
a few loud knocks at the door were startling enough to make you jump, head snapping to the side to face the front of the house, a muffled call of your last name from the other side making an anxious knot twist painfully tight deep in your gut. you quickly stepped away, leaving yelena kneeling on the floor, struggling to button up your shirt without even bothering to fix your chest cloth. as soon as you'd gotten yourself situated, you opened the door to find your squad leader awaiting you on the other side.
"is everything alright? breakfast started five minutes ago."
you hoped that the disbelief on your face could be taken as the expression of someone who had simply lost track of time. "i apologize, sir! m-miss yelena put in a request for marleyan coffee yesterday, and i was simply waiting for her to finish before i escorted her to the cafeteria."
you forced yourself to stay composed, trying to focus on the impassive face of your squad leader. there was a stark difference between the emotionlessness of yelena and that of everyone else around you, she somehow made her lack of any sort of feeling or warmth a beautiful kind of coldness, unlike the unnatural stoicism of your superiors. you saw his mouth open to reply, but you were both surprised by a sudden presence behind you, a firm hand at your shoulder, his eyes moving from looking down at you to looking up at the woman behind you, a flicker of genuine unease flitted across his hardened features.
"please don't fault her for my lack of punctuality," she said, a false sincerity lightening her usual low tone, "i simply wanted to enjoy a taste of home, is all. is my presence imperative?"
"i was only making sure everyone was accounted for." your squad leader asserted, staring up at her in an obvious attempt to intimidate that you knew would fail, "as long as you're being properly monitored, do as you please."
"understood." her fingers curled around your shoulder, gently urging you back, away from the door, "then i won't dawdle any longer, i'll join you all in the cafeteria momentarily."
yelena shut the door for you as soon as you took a step back, waiting until the steps of your squad leader had descended off of the porch and disappeared down the path before speaking to you. "i do hope i didn't get you in trouble."
you turned on your heel to face her, feeling a slight flutter in your chest at the sight of her already having lowered herself to your height. "oh, no, you don't have to worry about that.. he's always been a bit on the uptight side of things."
the corners of her lips perked up into the faintest smile before she proceeded back to the table, pressing a finger to the side of one of the teacups. "the coffee's gone cold now. my apologies for the distraction."
distraction, the wry thought flitted across your mind. you guessed that word was suitably to describe allowing her to nearly undress you before the sun had even fully risen in the sky. this was becoming a dangerous game, an ever-lengthening round of cat and mouse, and each day that passed made your more and more certain that you were the one who was running despite your inherent position of power over her. there was something absolutely captivating about her, whether it be the air of mystery that no amount of questions could dispel, or the way that she could practically bring you to your knees with just a few careful words—the more thought you put into it, the more instances of appeal that you seemed to find that only made you want to sink deeper and deeper into the depths that was her subtle control over you.
"i just don't want us to arrive late and miss out on anything." you said lamely, empty words to fill the air as you moved across the room to grab your jacket.
"perhaps another time." she replied, removing the dishes from the table to deposit them in the sink, leaving you with that sole promise that insinuated much more than just another cup of coffee.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"miss yelena, i don't know if we're allowed to be in this section of the building—"
"no one has stopped us yet, have they?" yelena didn't turn back to address you, only continuing forward with that long stride that took two quick steps of your own to match.
she was correct in the regard that no one had questioned her presence in the west wing of the management building, and the few that had begun to object stopped immediately upon catching sight of you following obediently behind her. you felt a bit like a prop, being used as almost a badge of clearance by the one and only individual that you were meant to keep from unauthorized locations such as this one. but her flat assertion that she had important business that gave you nothing in the way of information of direction before she'd taken off for the barracks, leaving you only able to chase after her and hope that no one figured out that she wasn't supposed to be there in the event that she truly wasn't meant to be.
you didn't have long to ruminate on your circumstances before you arrived at a door flanked by a single soldier, a young man that you recognized as someone affiliated with the more well-known soldiers from the 104th graduating class. though you didn't recall his name, you nodded politely to him as he opened the door for yelena, trailing closely behind her while still trying to peek around her slender frame. it was one of the smaller meeting rooms, a large window providing a fair amount of natural illumination down onto the round table, the sole occupant being another one of the anti-marleyan volunteers.
"glad to see you could make it." onyankopon smiled broadly up at yelena, his warm gaze flitting to you momentarily before traveling back to his associate, "no trouble, i assume?"
"none at all." she replied as she took a seat at the head of the table, looking as if she belonged there more than any of the superiors you'd seen seated there, "this one made sure no one interrupted our trip."
you flushed at the praise, standing pin straight beside her chair, hands lowering from behind your back to at your sides, trying not to let the enjoyment of her commendation show on your face. he turned his attention to you, inspiring a quick skip of your heart, fingers tapping nervously at your thighs.
"it's great to hear that yelena has been treating you well." he said matter-of-factly, but a cocked eyebrow and tilt of his head seemed to request a verbal confirmation of his statement.
you blinked, your words catching in your throat as your eyes involuntarily glanced to yelena, an instinctive desire to hold your tongue in the face of speaking about her, an odd sort of insecurity concerning your character flaring in your chest. but that split second of silence was all that she needed to take up the task of answering onyankopon, planting an elbow down on the tabletop and resting her chin in her palm.
"i have been treating her well." she affirmed, almost sounding bored, tilting her head to address you as she reached out and took the hand of yours that was closest to her, drawing it close to her face as she examined your expression, "isn't that right?"
you swallowed, mouth dry, nodding at yelena before remembering that you were meant to be answering onyankopon. "oh, y-yes. miss yelena has been very easy to work with."
pale eyes glimmered at your positive answer, mouth twitching upwards into that rare, barely noticeable smile. you felt your heart jump into your throat as she brought her lips to your knuckles, planting a soft, brief kiss over the back of your hand before gently placing it down at your side. she looked at you as if she knew exactly what you were thinking, like she could hear that unspoken worry of whether she should be doing this in front of her colleague, like she was giving the silent reply that she could do as she pleased.
"then, shall we begin?" onyankopon's voice brought you back to the present, shooting you another momentary glance before fixing his eyes on yelena.
"oh, right." she turned back to you, "be a dear and leave us for a moment to chat."
the mix of confusion at her request and surprise at the affectionate title halted your thoughts. "i'm sorry, miss yelena, but i don't think i'm allowed to do that."
your heart sank as you watched a look of annoyance draw across her features, large eyes narrowing, brow knitting together. she didn't speak for a moment, almost like she was waiting for you to take back your refusal and head on your way without any further discussion. when you did neither, she frowned, reaching out her hand once more, her fingers drawing up your palm to wrap around your wrist.
you nearly yelped as she clinched her grasp almost painfully tight, thumb pressing down hard over the bone at the side of your wrist, nails digging in your skin. her voice was low when she spoke, dangerously commanding and castigating, each word carefully enunciated.
"i said go."
only after you'd earnestly nodded did she release you, allowing you to scamper out of the room, blinking away the tears that had begun to well in your eyes from your stinging skin and the way she'd spoken to you. you took your place at the side of the door unoccupied by the soldier you'd seen before entering, fingers shakily tracing over the underside of your wrist.
though you weren't bleeding, the skin felt raw and irritated, your pulse racing fast in your veins. perhaps it wasn't so bad that you'd left them in there on their own, seeing as the older, more experienced guard was also standing by, well aware that there was no one monitoring them in the meeting room. so you obediently stood and waited, straining to make out coherent words from their muffled voices, contemplating why seeing yelena upset with you was so distressing.
why had you allowed her to order you around? why had you even complied with her demands instead of outright refusing like you were supposed to? why were you worried that she would still be angry with you by the time she walked out of that meeting room? you couldn’t understand what concerned you so deeply about what yelena thought of you, but somehow, the overbearing silence of the empty hallway made it even more difficult to wrap your head around your thoughts. you were so wrapped up in your panicked attempt at contemplation that you didn’t even notice the sound of their footsteps approaching from the other side of the door, only torn from your mind when the door opened from beside you. the two marleyans emerged, laughing affably together, exchanging temporary farewells until they could see each other at dinner that evening.
you looked up at her anxiously, wishing she’d spare you a glance for even just a moment instead of keeping her gaze fixed on the only other individuals populating the space. you hid your hands behind your back rather than in your pockets, knowing that it’d look horrendously unprofessional. but before you could worry about anyone catching sight of the reddened marks, the familiar soldier addressed you directly.
“i do look forward to working more closely with you in the future, i don’t believe we’ve met before. ” he said, outstretching a hand for you to shake, “floch forster.”
you quickly tugged the sleeve of your coat over your injured wrist, grasping his hand and giving a firm up and down, only offering your own name and a polite nod in return. you didn’t exactly know what he meant by working together in the future, but you assumed that it was in reference to your shared position of personal guards to marleyan volunteers.
you tensed at the familiar weight of a hand on your shoulder, feeling a firm squeeze that you knew all too well. “then we shall be going now. come.”
you immediately complied, giving a brief goodbye to the two men before proceeding quickly behind yelena, practically at her heels as the two of you walked further and further down the hall, shrouded in another bout of tense silence. you escorted her out of the building without issue, through the barracks and all the way to her lodgings, receiving nothing in the way of assurance or acknowledgment the entire way.
you wanted to speak up for yourself, ask if she was angered with you, anything to fill the quiet void, but you couldn't bring your mouth to push the words free. you hoped that she'd at least offer you her usual goodbye, as inherently lifeless and out of polite necessity as it may be, but it didn't come even as you unlocked the door to her quarters and held it open for her to enter, not even turning back before she sat herself at her desk and got to work on the clutter of papers occupying it.
you left her, feeling strangely heavy with defeat, unable to focus on anything for long before your mind strayed back to her upset expression, or the physical evidence of her displeasure with you. over the next hours, you constantly checked your watch, counting down the minutes to dinner, to when you'd be able to justify being in her presence and hopefully receive some sort of indicator that you were in the clear. you'd always been someone who did what was asked of you, a people pleaser—but there was something different about the inclination you felt towards yelena. it wasn't the kind of obedience that you gave to your superiors, she wasn't anything close to your superior in a technical sense, but somehow it felt natural, a servitude borne out of free will rather than one determined by ranking.
you knew you hadn't done anything wrong by denying her initially, but yet you still hoped for her forgiveness.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
you quivered at the feeling of her lips sucking at the already marked skin of your neck, thighs squeezing tighter around her waist, her nails digging deep enough into them that they nearly threatened to tear the fabric of your pants. you swallowed down yet another moan, one hand working its way deeper into her short hair, the other clenching tightly to the fabric of her barely-buttoned dress shirt. your soft, shuddering breaths filled the space of the open air around you, the fear of knowing your squad leader was just outside the door waiting for a reply, adjacent to the wall that she'd pushed you up against despite your meek warnings that dinner would be starting any minute now, was almost tangible in your stomach.
she pulled away from the reddened flesh with a low hum, nipping at your ear as she demanded, "make him go away."
you barely nodded, eyes screwing shut when she began yet another bruising assault to your shoulder, not even giving you enough time to collect yourself and speak. "i apologize, s-sir. miss yelena wasn't f-feeling well, so i brought her meal h-h-here instead of escorting her to the cafeteria..!"
you nearly whimpered as her teeth sank into the soft junction between your neck and shoulder, silently praying to any higher power that may be listening for your superior to just leave already. "understood. please return the plates to the cafeteria before they close up and make it to the dormitories before curfew."
"y-yes, sir..!"
you could barely count his descending steps down the porch over the sound of your own blood roaring in your ears, only completely assured of his absence when she sighed against your skin, soothing the ache with a few apologetic licks, pressing her lips everywhere they could reach. you often found yourself recalling the first time this had happened, when the two of you were sitting at the table in her quarters and she had been apologizing for the day she'd ordered you out of the meeting room. you could still remember how her touch had trailed from stroking at your wrist, crescent nail prints still occupying your skin, to cupping your face, drawing you close to kiss her again and again—the heat of her proximity, how her hands had felt and caressed every inch of your body, whispering a breathless, endless stream of praises into your ear as you came apart under her.
though you had vowed to yourself that wouldn't allow it to happen again, that that night would be your first and only instance of giving into that weakness she'd slowly but surely carved into you, but you found yourself sinking into her arms when she beckoned you, sewing the buttons of your shirt back into place without complaint after the nights where she had become impatient and accidentally popped them free, staring at your naked body in the mirror after your long showers and tracing your fingers over the bruises she'd sucked and bitten into your tender skin.
she only marked you in places where you could hide them beneath your clothes, places which assured that she would be the sole individual to see them when she stripped you bare, only to add more and more. there was no set time between those late evenings, sometimes the interval would be less than a few days, and other times it would stretch out for weeks with no indication as to when the next occasion would come. but when it did, any semblance of self-restraint had completely diminished.
"you're such a good pet for me.." she cooed, her words sending a warm spark through every inch of you.
she'd become fond of calling you that, and a part of you wondered if that was all she saw you as, as only a pet or a possession. you'd accepted that she had the upper hand in this relationship, whatever it may be, but you couldn't help enjoying the feeling of being desired so deeply, being touched and admired in ways you'd never even imagined before you met her. your arms clasped tighter around her neck as she pulled you away from the wall, laying you out on her bed, taking a moment to strip out of her shirt before lowering herself on top of you.
her hands busied themselves ridding you of your chest wrappings, lips attentively traversing each inch of newly revealed skin, murmuring curses and sweet nothings that only made you squirm more beneath her, impatient and eager. you mewled when she'd finally settled her hands over her bare breast, large palms pressing into soft flesh, slender fingers pinching at your nipples. she turned her head up to kiss you, tongue outlining the seam of your lips before sliding into your mouth, claiming it as her own.
you were left panting when she pulled away despite its briefness, hazy, low-lidded eyes finding her own, intoxicated by that carnal look, dark pupils nearly overtaking the piercing grey of her irises. she only smirked at your lack of composure, dipping her head back down to suck and bite at the valley of your breasts, your fingers reflexively tightening in her hair. your hips bucked up into nothing, desperate for any sort of friction, much to yelena's amusement.
"aren't you just the neediest little thing?" she paused to lave her tongue over a pert bud, drawing another heated sigh from you as you nodded, hoping that your agreement could persuade her to not spend so much time teasing you.
she granted you the slightest relief, taking your nipple between your lips and sucking at it, the hand not occupied with another breast trailing down the scar etched into your side, following the path down to your navel to begin unbuttoning your pants. each second seemed to drag on longer than the last, and though you knew that she wasn't purposely drawing out the process of undressing you, it was still not enough. you were practically kicking your underwear to the floor by the time they made their way around your ankles, skin still burning hot despite being fully exposed to the air.
"p-please, miss yelena.." you whimpered at the feeling of her hand tracing up and down your inner thigh, occasionally stopping to stroke across the raised lines of skin that had been inscribed into your skin by the series of belts and buckles on your gear harness, but never proceeding that final inch up to where you needed it.
she pulled away to let out a low chuckle, peering up at you through dark lashes, bare chest pressed flush against your stomach. she drank in the way your face shifted as she rested the pad of her thumb over your clit, rubbing languid circles over it as her pointer finger dipped down your cunt, instantly slick with your arousal.
"you're so worked up from just that?" she taunted, speaking at barely a murmur, "or was it because somebody was listening?"
you felt the knot of anticipation drawing tight in the pit of your stomach, watching as she took her fingers in her mouth and licked over them, thighs shuddering when she returned to their previous position. "i-it was— i j-just— please.."
you could barely form a coherent thought, back arching up to urge your body as close to hers as you could manage, only cognizant of just how close you were to being relieved of that unbearable pressure welling within you. she only smiled, close-lipped and cunning, resting her head over your heaving chest.
"your heart is racing. i wonder how much faster i could make it go.."
you nearly whined as two fingers slid into you with little resistance, her mouth closing over a nipple, alternating between gently tugging at it with her teeth and flicking over it with the tip of her tongue. your hips rocked up into her hand, matching the pace of her wrist as your head dug back into the mattress, moans and incoherent pleas spilling from your parted lips.
you could feel yourself quickly approaching that rapturous peak, hands fisting the sheets under you, white stars blotting out your vision as she curled her fingers just right. you shuddered, gasping, eyes rolling aimlessly into the back of your head as the tension that had wound itself into every muscle finally released, coming completely undone beneath her. you pressed a shaking hand over your mouth, muffling the sound of your winded breaths, letting out a small noise when she relieved you of her fingers. you felt her lips grazing over your chest, forcing your head up to look at her with bleary eyes when their feather-light touch proceeded lower and lower down your stomach.
you had expected things to come to an end as they usually did, with her pulling her clothes back on before you even had the chance to see straight and gathering your own garments from the floor to hand to you, leaving you to walk back to your dormitories on trembling legs in your wrinkled uniform. but there was no sign of that immediate withdrawal as she gathered your thighs in her hands, lifting your legs up onto her shoulders as she pressed a brief kiss over your naval.
you licked your lips nervously, already more than too sensitive at just the feeling of her breath over your soaked cunt. you opened your mouth to meekly object or ask for just a moment longer to catch your breath, but she shushed you, her heavy-lidded gaze sending a fresh bout of heat across your skin. each little quiver of your thighs only made her grip fasten, unable to keep still as she kissed at the scars and soft flesh, drawing a stifled whimper when she stopped to suck a deep mark at a spot of untarnished skin.
you could see the pale expanse of yelena's back, pristine and absent of any previous traumas, the complete opposite of your own. the first time you'd see her undressed, you couldn't take your eyes off of her slender frame, lined with muscle from her days as a soldier but still so delicate. you'd never left any marks when she'd allow you to kiss at her neck and chest, only enough to see the rosy flush settle over her body, but by that time she was more than eager to get back to playing with you instead.
you took in a deep, unsteady breath, jaw clenching and stomach tightening as her tongue drew flat up the length of your cunt, a small moan breaking from your parted lips. she pressed forward, flicking the tip of her tongue over your clit in a merciless rhythm, holding your thighs apart to accommodate her presence each time they attempted to squeeze shut. you writhed over the sheets, her name slipping from you between high-pitched whines and labored breaths, minutes melting past in an incomprehensible blur, leaving you only cognizant of her tongue and hands dragging you back over that edge again and again.
by the time she'd released you, you could barely hold your eyes open, thighs aching from her fingers digging into them, throat raw from crying out for her and gasping in what never seemed to be enough air, feeling too exhausted to even think about making the walk back to your own room. but rather than hand your clothes to you in a silent cue for your departure, you watched her make her way back up the mattress to lay beside you, pulling your heavy, sweat-slicked body against her own. you couldn't try to refuse the comfort of her warmth, face pressing into her chest, breathing in her soft, clean scent, still occasionally trembling as you tentatively allowed your hands to cling to her.
you told yourself not to get comfortable, to try to regain control of your limbs by the time her sympathy for overworking you had worn off and she ordered you away for the night, but the demand never came. you felt a large hand settle at the base of your neck, another splaying across the small of your back, her chin resting on the crown of your head, holding you close like a lover would.
"you could stay for the night if you'd like." her tone was even and collected as it always was, but hushed, like she was murmuring a secret to you.
you knew that sleeping her had already far overstepped whatever boundary had been abandoned that night she'd first kissed you, the morning where she'd marveled at your body and commended your courage, every instance you'd obeyed her rather than carry out the simple orders you were given. it was already too late to tear yourself away from this presence that you'd grown so familiar with—the one that you had feared, the one that you now craved despite how you knew you shouldn't.
"thank you, miss yelena." you whispered hoarsely, curling into her, allowing your heavy eyes to close.
that would be the first and last time you ever spent the night in her quarters.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
the banquet to celebrate the completion of the rail system in trost was minutes away from commencing. the speaking podium was empty for the moment, soldiers and civilians chattering amongst themselves as they waited for the military officials to gather at the stage. you were authorized to be in the private area as yelena's personal escort, seeing as she had participated in the mapping of the railroad through the district and would be acknowledged as a contributor to the advancement of paradis.
but as excited as you were to celebrate, eat good food and hopefully get a chance to drink, you weren't looking forward to transferring your position to floch forster for the remainder of the night. although, your desire to stay by yelena's side had been momentarily dissuaded by the desire to please her when she'd requested the change a few days prior. you hadn't bothered to hide your disappointment, nor did you hold back your questions.
"change to forster? but.. why?" you had asked, in the privacy of her quarters, feeling an immediate disheartening at her words.
she didn't directly respond, the hand that had been at your shoulder rising to pet at your cheek. "you trust me, don't you?"
"y-yes, but—"
"then file a request to change with him."
you couldn't explain why you had felt such a cool emptiness burrowing into your chest, a sudden spite for the other soldier beginning to fester in the back of your mind, the thought that she would choose him over you inspiring an indescribable irateness. you turned away from her hand, not thinking of how you were pouting like a child, unwilling to meet her eyes or compromise with her. you'd been fretting over how she hadn't spared you any sort of affection in the nearly two months that had passed, the fear that she'd grown tired of you an incessant whisper in your ear. but then she had reached for you, treated you gently, persuading with that hint of sincerity she rarely ever showed you.
"it would only be for the evening, i have business to attend to that night. i'm sure you've been looking forward to the celebration?" a frown tugged at your lips, only offering a small nod in reply, meeting her eyes when she guided you by your chin to face her. "then transfer with forster, have fun for the evening—you deserve it."
you couldn't help but preen under her praise, meeting her eyes, heart stuttering at the sight of her barely-there smile. you finally caved after a moment of thought, relenting to her wishes. "i'll put in a temporary transfer request tomorrow afternoon."
"thank you, dear."
despite how you weren't exactly looking forward to forster's arrival to relieve you from duty, those final words lifted your spirits just the slightest bit. perhaps she had simply been caught up in the stress of such a grand achievement, too busy attending meetings with engineers and generals and event staff to make any spare time for you for the past weeks. you had waited for weeks before, you could continue waiting if need be. you were at her beck and call, and as long as it pleased her, you were perfectly fine doing as such.
you let out a soft sigh at the sigh of floch forster approaching, weaving through the scattered crowd with a stoic, dutiful look plastered across his expression.
"good evening, floch." yelena said from beside you.
he replied with a polite good evening to both you and her, adding your name as more of an afterthought than anything, but turning his focus back to you when you still hadn't stepped away. "you can go, i'll take it from here."
your gaze flickered over to yelena, feeling yourself relax as she nodded to you, a hand resting at your shoulder to gently urge you forward. "i'll see you tomorrow morning. enjoy yourself tonight."
so you took your leave, watching the ceremony in the company of your fellow soldiers, eyes always wandering away from the speaker and to yelena at the side of the stage. the speech concluded, the crowd cheered and applauded, and everyone was directed to the banquet hall where the remainder of the event would be held. you watched yelena and floch walk off the stage with the other officials, becoming distracted for just a moment speaking to someone but having lost sight of them by the time you looked back.
you didn't see yelena for the remainder of the night, but you did as you were told, enjoying the good food, talking to your friends, avoiding any alcohol in preparation for your usual early morning. it was all over quite quickly, and the next morning came and went, business as usual for the remainder of the next few days—then came the news of eren jaeger's disappearance, then the plans of the all-hands-on-deck operation that was to be the retrieval effort for the young man, the entire scouting branch thrown into overdrive.
and, though you never mustered the courage to ask, you felt a sinking feeling deep inside, that yelena's nightly errand with floch and eren's absence were somehow connected, that there was much more going behind the scenes that you couldn't even begin to fathom.
just wanted to give u guys a little gift for my birthday (´･ᴗ･ ` )
#yelena#snk yelena#yelena x reader#yelena x reader smut#aot x reader#snk x reader#snk x y/n#snk x you#aot x you#aot x reader smut#snk x reader smut#yelena brainrot#shingeki no kyoujin x reader#shingeki no kyojin fanfiction
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Death and an Angel part 9
Helmetless + Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader
Summary: You make a promise to Din before you leave to meet with your superiors, but will you be able to keep it?
Rating: T
Word Count: 2,976
Warnings: fluff, the angst is back people, protective and possessive Din, your superiors are assholes, overuse of italics, swearing, plot plot plot
Author Note: All the love to every single supporter out there! Don’t hate me too much for this segment please.
Links to Part 1 and Part 8 and Part 10
Cross-posted on AO3.
Photo Inspiration:
“I’m going with you, angel.”
In exactly one hour, you’re due to report back to headquarters. You’ve been loathing this meeting from the get-go, but now, after being matched with Din, the mere thought of leaving him is as painful as a physical blow. You wish you had more time to revel in his heated kisses, the touch of his hands against your skin, the low growls he elicits when you run your nails through his curls.
Deep down, you know as immortal beings you will have an eternity to experience all of these thrills together. But right now the bond you two share as soulmates doesn’t care about the future, only the present. In your mind, it resembles a sapling soaking up every ounce of affection it can from you and Din, craving more and more intimacy in order to become stronger. Just thinking about being separated from him, even for only a short while, makes your chest hurt something fierce, as if a bundle of thorns has become wrapped around your heart.
Din is not immune to the effects of the soulmate bond either. Since his return to Arvala-7 he has not let you out of his sight for longer than thirty seconds. Anyone else, you would have been annoyed by the incessant staring, but with Din you only feel desired and, as sappy as it sounds, cherished in a way you’ve never felt before.
Which makes it all the harder to meet his gaze right now, frowning as you shake your head at him.
“Din, you can’t,” you say quietly, praying your voice doesn’t break because you know it will trigger his overprotectiveness and then you’ll helplessly melt into a puddle of warm emotions. “Only Cupids are allowed at headquarters. No outsiders allowed, not even Death.”
His jaw clenches, displeased by your rebuttal, but his fingers are gentle as they trail across your cheeks. That’s another thing you’ve noticed since he’s reunited with you: his gloves have yet to make a reappearance. It’s like now that you and the universe have assured him of your requited feelings, his iron walls of self-control have crumbled to dust, revealing a lonely, touch-starved soul who has long been told he could never physically connect with someone without the risk of killing them and is now desperate to make up for the lost time.
With this in mind, each time he initiates contact, you always make sure to return the gesture with as much affection as you can muster, whether that be by deepening his kisses or by intertwining your fingers tightly with his when he reaches for your hand. Or, such as in this instance where the two of you are lying together and cuddling on Kuiil’s bed, you take advantage of him having removed his full suit of armor to curl closer against his chest, nuzzling your head beneath his chin.
The Ugnaught had taken Din’s return in stride when he and IG-11 had paused their farmwork outside to check up on you about twenty minutes ago. Upon seeing them, Din had started to untangle himself from you so he could stand to greet them. His lack of urgency to conceal his face surprised you initially, but then you recalled Kuiil already knew Din resembled a human male, meaning at some point during their friendship Din had become comfortable enough to not wear his helmet around him. Petty jealousy swirls inside of you, upset you’re not the only one who knows Death’s true face, but you squash the ridiculous emotion not even a second later. If anyone is worthy enough of seeing Din’s true self, it’s Kuiil.
Before Din could get to his feet, Kuiil had merely shaken his head, saying he didn’t want to interrupt your time together when he knew you had to leave soon. Which is what prompted Din to insist upon himself accompanying you to headquarters.
“I don’t want you anywhere near those bastards,” he mutters darkly, lines of frustration forming ridges along his forehead. He still hasn't forgiven Hess for causing you to have a panic attack.
You wrap your fingers around his wrist, not with the intention of stopping his soothing ministrations, but instead grounding yourself in the moment using the skin-on-skin contact. Perhaps, you acknowledge privately to yourself, he’s not the only touch-starved soul in the room. I don’t want to be near them either, you want to tell him. Let’s fly away together on the Crest, somewhere far, far away...
Instead, you force yourself to say with the same carefully even tone, “The meeting should just be an hour or two, then they’ll make me take a reassessment test about Cupid regulations which I’ll pass easily.” You lift your head to peck the bridge of his prominent nose before holding up your pinky finger. “And by later this evening, I’ll be right back here in your arms. Pinky promise.”
Din stares at you for several heartbeats, stubbornness lingering in his gaze before at last he exhales a quiet sigh of surrender. He wraps his pinky around yours, squeezing tightly.
“I thought leaving you behind here was the hardest thing I’d ever have to do, but this—letting you go face them alone and knowing I can’t intervene—it’s a pain I’d only wish upon my worst enemies.”
You want to say something lighthearted, a teasing remark to ease the heavy tension in the room and make that stunning smile of his light up the space instead. Maybe, if you’re funny enough, you can make his precious and lone dimple appear in his cheek so you can press your lips to it. But your words get trapped in your throat, forming a lump that won’t go down no matter how hard you swallow.
You are equally as surprised as you are grateful when Din continues to speak.
“You’re my soulmate, angel, so when I swear these next words to you, I want you to have no doubt I mean them with absolute sincerity,” he says, a possessive and darkly seductive note creeping into his voice that has you instinctively biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning embarrassingly. “If anyone dares to keep you from me even a second longer than what is strictly necessary, I will stain the ground with their blood and reap their soul from their body so slowly they’ll weep for damnation.”
~~~
Headquarters is kriffing freezing.
That’s the first thing you notice when you step inside, goosebumps immediately rising along your arms and a shiver racks your spine as you navigate the maze of hallways towards the center of the building where the conference room is located. Every footstep reverberates off the black marble floors, but the sound isn’t loud enough to prevent you from overhearing the whispering voices of other Cupids watching you pass by, gossiping about your impending interrogation. You’d be angry at them, except that would make you a hypocrite since you’ve also spread a rumor or two about your coworkers in the past. You can feel an increase of anxiety rush through your bloodstream, making you stuff your hands into your pockets lest anyone sees them trembling and laughs.
Your three superiors are already seated and waiting in the conference room when you arrive. You make eye contact with each one, bowing your head as both a greeting and sign of respect. Lang, a dark-haired man who is known for shooting first and asking questions later, offers you a jaunty salute before lacing his hands behind his head as he balances his chair on its rear legs, the image of relaxation. Morgan Elsbeth, the only female of the trio, elects to ignore you in favor of boredly drumming her fingers on the glass tabletop, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the galaxy than here. Hess returns the nod with a leering grin, further convincing you he was half-womp rat in his mortal life.
You reach for the chair closest to you, planning to pull it out to sit, when Hess’ low, gravelly voice has you freezing mid-motion. “Cupid 1-1-7, you are to remain standing for the duration of this meeting.”
“Yes, sir,” you say, clasping your hands behind your back.
Hess turns in his seat towards the holoprojector that is set up on the table. He presses several buttons and a holographic figure flickers into view, dressed in dark armor with a long black cape. You recognize the seraph immediately, never able to forget the first face you saw when you woke up as a Cupid. Moff Gideon is the supreme leader of all Cupids, imposing and sharp-witted with violent powers you’ve often heard described as barbarically ruthless. Everything about him terrifies you and you’ve done all you can to avoid being in his presence.
Only now there is no escaping him. You can’t even teleport to save yourself. When headquarters was initially built, Gideon infused his powers into its structure with the intent of protecting the building from being discovered or, worse, attacked. (Though who would want to battle a bunch of Cupids, you have no idea). However, to the detriment of all Cupids currently inside headquarters, Gideon’s enchantment also blocks any of you from using your abilities. According to him, it’s to prevent any power-sensitive beings from detecting your aura signatures and you’ve never wanted to risk being murdered to try and find a flaw with that logic.
To put it bluntly, you’re a regular human in every sense except you get to keep your immortal youthfulness. Which is literally the least helpful perk you could ask for right now.
“Cupid 1-1-7,” Gideon says, dark eyes peering at you with such focused intensity you feel sweat begin to form along your hairline. “You were granted forty-eight hours to determine your client’s soulmate. Tell us, were you successful in finding his match?”
“I—” you cut yourself off, noticing his use of a gender specific term.
He chuckles at your dumbfounded expression, a quiet huff of air that you quickly deem the scariest sound you’ve ever heard. “You may have been able to conceal Death’s identity as your client from my associates, but few incidents occur in the galaxy without my knowing about them.”
Your three superiors each display unique reactions to the reveal. Morgan’s drumming stops, attention now hooked by the present conversation and she gives you a once-over, clearly reconsidering her overall impression of you. Lang nearly falls backwards onto the floor, barely managing to correct the chair at the last second to balance himself. Hess props his chin on top of his interlocked fingers, observing you in a similar fashion as Morgan, but there is an eerie glint in his gaze you don’t like the look of.
You swallow thickly, feeling sick to your stomach. “What do you want from me, sir?”
“The full and honest truth.” There is a brief pause, increasing the tension in the room. “Were you successful in finding Death’s soulmate?”
You don’t understand why he’s asking you the same question twice when he’s admitted he’s practically omniscient. And the way he’d paused just now, makes you start to worry he’s baiting you into a trap, but you have no viable means of escaping to avoid giving him an answer.
Your voice comes out meeker sounding than you’ve ever heard it. “Yes, sir, I was successful.”
When it becomes apparent after a long beat of silence you are not going to admit any further information, Gideon levels you with a stern look. “I strongly urge you to reveal their identity to us, Cupid 1-1-7, so we may make note of them in our archives as is customary for all matched pairs.”
Well now that makes you definitely feel cornered. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess inside your head; half of you is convinced he already knows you are Din’s soulmate and is toying with you, while the other half believes he actually has no idea at all and is trying to scare you into revealing the truth.
Kriff. What do you do?
You stare over their heads at the far wall, uncomfortably aware of how the silence stretches on as they wait for a name. Your name. Maker, why do you keep ending up in these horrible scenarios? Who did you piss off in your mortal life?
“If your tongue has failed you,” Gideon says, tone deceptively light and airy. “Might I suggest that an alternative way of answering would be to show us your hands.”
He knows.
Kriff. Kriff. Kriff.
You continue your staring contest with the wall, refusing to let them see any indication your blood has turned to ice or that your lungs are on the verge of collapsing. Think, you rack your brain frantically. For Maker’s sake, think of something .
“You’re already in hot water, Cupid 1-1-7,” Lang says. His southern accent softens the words, but you still manage to detect the warning laced within them. “Don’t make it worse for yourself by being stubborn.”
As much as you loathe to admit it, Lang has a point. By continuing to resist, you’re only hurting yourself by increasing the time spent separated from Din. You don’t want to break your promise to him. Or, that little voice in the back of your mind chips in, cause Din to destroy Kuiil’s farm out of a panic-induced rage when you don’t show up tonight like you promised you would.
Inhaling a deep breath to steady your nerves, you hold out your marked hand, palm facing up to clearly display the soulmate marking. The little black heart almost seems to glow at being the center of attention.
“That is impossible,” Morgan murmurs, looking from your hand to her colleagues and back again. “No one can have two soulmates.”
“And yet here we have living proof contradicting that belief,” Gideon answers, gesturing towards you grandly with both arms. There is something in his voice—awe, you identify a second later—that has your body instinctively stiffening.
“That belief is the natural order of the universe.” Morgan’s voice is snappish, but outwardly she is her calm and collected self, not a single strand of hair out of place. “She is a deviation of the norm. A glitch.”
“If other Cupids find out about her,” Hess begins, pointing a finger at you like the others have no idea who he’s talking about. Like you’re not able to hear every word. “They’ll start thinking maybe there’s a second soulmate out there somewhere for them too, someone to replace the one who rejected them in their mortal life. They’ll start questioning the natural order, the foundation of our galactic society, and all those questions will only lead to one thing: unrestrained chaos.”
“In order to prevent that unfavorable outcome, I would like to encourage a moment of observation.” Gideon looks to someone out of range of the holoprojector, nodding his head once in confirmation. “Take one last long look for Cupid 1-1-7 is a unique anomaly you may never have the chance of seeing again.”
You blink, heart going still as the implication registers. “What?”
Before anyone can answer or scold you, a purple-skinned twi'lek Cupid you don’t recognize casually enters the conference room, like she isn’t guilty of intruding on a private meeting. Almost as if...someone had summoned her. Your gaze darts briefly to Gideon, suspicions confirmed when you see his smirking face, before looking back at the twi’lek drawing closer.
“It’s time for your reassessment test. I’m here to take you there,” she tells you, baring her fanged teeth in what you think is supposed to be a smile, but it lacks any warmth or friendliness. You can only stare back at her, every cell in your body screaming this isn’t right. You shouldn’t need an escort to the testing room.
“I can go by myself,” you protest, holding your ground.
She lunges forward with lightning-quick reflexes, seizing your elbow and leaning disturbingly close into your personal space. “Pity,” she says, feigning a pout. “I thought we could become friends.”
Something sharp pricks your arm. You first notice the mischievous gleam in her dark eyes, and then when you look down, you discover a needle being pulled out of you arm. The room starts to spin, fuzzy black spots appearing in the corners of your vision, and you sag against the wall, balance failing you.
Closing your eyes, you try to focus on your soulmate bond, calling out to Din as the numbing sensation spreads to your feet and you collapse onto the floor without an ounce of grace.
Then, distant and distorted, as if it is coming from somewhere underwater hundreds of miles away, you hear a responding cry, “Angel!”
Din. Oh, thank the Maker, you think hysterically. The delicate line between reality and imagination shifts and blurs, as if it also is succumbing to the drug’s influence. You feel his hands clutch at your face, then move to your shoulders, shaking you in an effort to force your eyes open. You want to see his beautiful face, even if it is merely an illusion, but your eyelids feel as if they suddenly weigh a hundred pounds each.
“Tell me where you are,” he demands, tightly gripping your arms to the point of pain. “I’ll come save you, just tell me where I can find you.”
The answer is on the tip of your tongue, only your mind starts to drift again, pulling you away from him towards unconsciousness. Your bond's strength wavers, unable to keep the connection stable across the lengthy distance separating you and him, and it begins to curl in on itself.
Din must notice this, too, screaming so loudly it verges on roaring, “Stay with me, angel! Please, just stay with—”
The last thing you think of before everything goes black is how much you hate breaking your pinky promise to him.
Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan, @stilllivindue2spite, @coaaster, @lin-djarin, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds
#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#din x you#din x reader#death and an angel#my fic#Din Djarin#the mandalorian#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfiction#my writing#soulmate au#mandalorian x reader
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In Fantasy, a frozen fanfic | Chapter 1
Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | G+
In a desperate bid to save their country from political and financial ruin, King Agnarr and Queen Iduna of Arendelle strike a deal with a former foe, King Albert of the Southern Isles. His price? That their firstborn daughter marry his thirteenth son.
Previous installments: Prologue
Follow updates: #InFantasyFrozen
For Helsa Week 2021, Day 1: Parenthood. @helsaweekmasterlist
Author's Note: This is a draft, exclusively available on Tumblr. I have literally the outline for every single chapter following this written, but not fleshed out into readable form yet... so this is all you are going to see for a while. It took me a while to write, as you can probably tell. Enjoy and please leave feedback.
»»————- ❈ ————-««
Chapter 1
Snow pattered soundlessly against the arched window of the king’s study as he and his wife sat across from one another at his desk, reviewing the morning’s mail by candlelight. The fire crackled loudly in the hearth a few feet away, bringing a warm glow to the otherwise dim and drab space.
Iduna looked out briefly through the glass panes, the outside world obscured by the total darkness of the winter months. She was just able to make out the snow flurries of white and gray, and beyond that, under the lanterns lining the walkway to the castle gates, she imagined she could see the slow and halting movements of the castle’s servants as they shuttled through the gates and back. The town square, and the fjord beyond it, were entirely hidden from her view.
She shivered, drawing her heavy fur robe closer around her frame, and the small movement was enough to cause her to lose her grip on the letter opener in her other hand. It cut the side of her thumb as it clattered to the desk, and she released a small cry of surprise and pain as droplets of her blood fell on the envelope at the top of the unread stack, staining it red.
“Oh, dear,” Agnarr sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his chest pocket and wrapping it around her open wound. “You must be more careful with that.” He eyed her chattering teeth with concern. “Is the new robe helping even a little bit?”
Iduna looked away. “You know how difficult my… condition has been,” she said, gazing down at her swollen belly. “Even in rooms with the best-tended fires, I’m always cold.” She touched the collar of the robe, shooting him a small glare, and added: “Anyway, it’s not as if you paid for this yourself.”
Agnarr frowned but said nothing, returning his attention to the mail after another sharp look from his wife. His eyes widened as he examined the seal, and he paused, causing Iduna to glance at it with curiosity.
“Who is it from?”
He swallowed and began to open the letter, avoiding Iduna’s still-drying blood splatters. “The Southern Isles,” he said at length, causing her face to darken.
“Speak of the devil,” she grumbled.
He read it in silence to himself at first, but at Iduna’s unnerved expression, he passed the paper to her. She reluctantly accepted it.
Dearest Agnarr and Iduna,
Allow me to pass on my belated congratulations to you both for the auspicious news of your first child’s coming! While I was surprised to hear that the delivery date is so soon, you cannot imagine the happiness this has brought my family and I, and especially to my youngest son, Hans. He is eager to meet his future wife and in-laws. Rest assured that we will be the first guests to arrive for her christening.
I have ordered a small gift for my future daughter-in-law which you should receive in about one month, just in time for her birth. Please accept this as a token of our continued friendship and soon-to-be unbreakable bonds of family. I look forward to hearing what you think of it when we meet again in person soon.
Yours respectfully,
Albert
Iduna scowled and crumpled the letter in her unbandaged hand. “How can he be so sure it will be a girl?” she muttered. “The nerve of that man! We should never have told him that I am with child.”
“He would’ve found out eventually, whether we did or not,” Agnarr pointed out, sighing. “And besides, we did wait a while – probably too long – to write to him about it. Which he obviously picked up on.” He gestured for Iduna to hand him the ball of paper, which she did while sporting a glower. “I’m not sure there’s any need to be so sullen, dear. Nils said it was likely to be a boy.”
Iduna opened her lips as if to speak, but her face suddenly paled, and she collapsed from her seat to the floor, holding herself up on all fours. She groaned with pain as her husband rushed to her side, panic flashing across his eyes.
“Agnarr,” she moaned, “I think—I think it’s time…”
»» —— ««
Agnarr paced outside the bedroom, his features hollow and drawn from sleeplessness. Iduna’s moaning echoed from inside the room out into the hallways, and the sight of various attending ladies scurrying in and out of the room with fresh sheets and bowls of water did little to ease his worried mind.
He had long since dismissed his councilors from the scene, finding their hovering presence unnecessary at best—and unsettling at worst. Their questions about the queen’s health, while infrequent, were regular enough to cause the king to lose his temper and bark that it would not improve just because a gallery of onlookers wished it so. Sympathetic to their young monarch, they had left him in the care of the servants, and so he had waited, alone, for many hours to hear a spot of better news.
The grandfather clock at the end of the hall struck ten just as the door reopened to reveal the royal physician, who wore an equally exhausted expression. His hands, though recently washed, still had specks of the queen’s blood dotting the wrists and under his fingernails.
“Nils! It’s been an age. What’s going on?” he demanded, pulling the older man aside.
The physician stifled a frown. “I don’t have much news to share right now, Your Majesty. She is still in labor, just as before. We are doing everything we can to keep her comfortable.”
Another groan from Iduna resounded in the background, and Agnarr shot Nils a dark look. “You call that ‘comfortable’?”
The noise began to wane as they listened to the head maidservant, Gerda, whisper to the queen inside the room. The king’s expression softened. “Please, Nils,” he began again, “you’ve been here since my father was a young man. I know you’ve seen almost everything in your time.” He placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Just give me your honest assessment of what’s happening. I need to know if she—”
Agnarr broke off, swallowing a sob that threatened to choke him. Nils patted the king’s hand on his shoulder, taking it into his own, and sighed. “It’s difficult when the baby comes this early, Your Majesty. And with Her Majesty being in labor for so long…” He paused, squeezing the king’s hand. “I will do everything I can to keep her and your child alive. That you can rest assured of.”
Agnarr looked back at him with tears straining his vision, his lips just barely forming the beginnings of a grateful smile before a terrible cry erupted from inside the bedroom.
“All of you, out!” Iduna screamed, and then said something else in a voice too quiet to be heard. A flurry of attending ladies rushed out of the room, and the king broke away from Nils to rush to the doorway.
He was met there by a tired, distraught, but somehow still defiant Gerda. “No,” she said, stopping him in his tracks. “She needs to rest for a moment. I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”
Agnarr scowled. “Gerda, for God’s sake, let me in—”
Nils placed his hand on Agnarr’s shoulder, silencing him, and nodded to Gerda. The older woman shot the king a frown, and then sent a grateful look to the physician as she walked away from the door.
Agnarr turned on him. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Fru Gerda is correct, Your Majesty. It is not your place to intervene.” At the king’s heated look, the physician dropped his hand from his shoulder, resting it on the doorknob as he took a step inside the room. “I’ll bring you more news as soon as I have it, but for now… please, try to get some rest.”
Agnarr watched in defeat as the physician closed the door behind him, and finally slumped into an armchair beside the room, his head lolling forward as he began to drift towards slumber.
»» —— ««
“Your Majesty?”
The king awoke to the gentle shaking of his shoulders, and his eyes blinked open slowly. He groaned as his vision finally cleared, seeing Nils. “How long have I been asleep?”
The physician smiled. “Only a few hours.”
Agnarr nodded, placing his aching head in his palms, and then with a suddenness that took Nils aback, it shot up in alarm and stared at the bedroom door. “It’s so quiet—what’s happened?” He stood from the armchair, grabbing the physician by both shoulders. “Is she all right?”
The strange, new sound of an infant’s babbles surfaced from behind the door. The king’s eyes widened as his grip relaxed, and he stared at Nils in wonder.
“Is that…?”
The old man’s smile widened. “Yes, Your Majesty. And Her Majesty is fine now, enjoying a well-deserved rest.” He sighed with contentment. “It truly is a miracle for the child to have been born so healthy, and of normal weight and size, in spite of everything.” He took one of the king’s hands in his own, patting it. “Would you like to meet your newborn daughter?”
Agnarr’s face paled. “Daughter?”
Nils nodded, and looked sheepish. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’m afraid my prediction of her sex was rather inaccurate.”
The king paused, and plastered on a smile, though light droplets of sweat beaded at his forehead. “No matter,” he said, and inhaled as he nodded towards the bedroom. “Lead the way.”
Agnarr entered to find his new daughter in Gerda’s arms, bundled up and half-asleep, a smattering of light blonde hair visible on her soft scalp. Iduna lay in the bed just a few feet away, sleeping quietly, the only visible sign of the previous day’s strain being the pallor of her skin.
The older woman smiled at his coming despite her obvious fatigue, meeting him halfway across the room. “Should I make arrangements to announce the birth of the princess, Your Majesty?” she whispered, looking with fondness down at the infant.
Agnarr shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied after a moment, unable to tear his eyes away from the girl. “At least, not until the queen awakens, and can meet her daughter properly.”
Gerda nodded, casting a pitying glance at Iduna. “Quite right, Your Majesty. The poor woman was barely able to speak a word to the child before drifting off.” She gently handed the baby to its father. “We’ll leave you three alone for a little while. I’ll be back with refreshments for everyone soon.”
At this cue, she and Nils exited the room, closing the door behind them. Agnarr sat in a rocking chair beside the fireplace, his gaze fixed to the sleeping babe in his arms, and his apprehension and fear gave way to a warm, glowing smile.
“Don’t worry, child,” he murmured, and tucked the sleeping bundle closer to his heart. “I’ll protect you.”
»» —— ««
The queen awoke to the same darkness that had greeted her the morning before, but also to the sound of creaking wood. She squinted and saw, with delighted surprise, her husband and daughter sitting together by the hearth.
“Agnarr?” she called in a soft, weary voice.
He looked up with dark circles under his eyes, but his expression was radiant as he walked to her bedside. “My dearest, you’re finally awake!” He handed her their child with infinite tenderness, sitting next to her. “I think she looks like you,” he remarked.
Iduna gazed down at the still-sleeping infant with some bittersweetness, and then back up at her husband. “Has the birth been announced yet?” she asked, unable to hide the anxiousness from her voice.
He shook his head. “No. I wanted to hold off until you were awake.”
“Good,” Iduna sighed with relief, brushing stray strands of the white-golden locks from the child’s eyes. Her nose wrinkled. “I can’t believe that old bastard was right all along,” she muttered. “How did he know?”
Agnarr wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t think of such things now,” he chided her, and returned his attention to the baby. “What shall we name her?”
Iduna frowned. “I hadn’t thought of any names for a girl.”
“I know, but…” He paused. “What about Elsa?”
Iduna blinked. “Elsa?”
He nodded. “Yes. It was the name of my favorite cousin. She died when I was still a boy—fell through ice while skating. This could be a good way to honor her memory.”
His wife frowned. “Agnarr!” she protested. “That’s far too morbid. Can’t you think of anything else?”
Before the king could reply, the infant nuzzled up against her mother’s breast and hiccuped, drawing her parents’ attention away from their dispute. Agnarr glanced at his wife with a cheeky smile. “I think she approves of her name.”
Iduna sighed, and could not help but smile in return. “Fine. Elsa it is, then,” she agreed.
They watched her for a while longer before Agnarr glanced up at the clock on the bedside table. “I should have Nils check on her, and make sure everything’s all right,” he said, and stood.
Iduna grabbed his hand and brought him back to his seat. “Not yet,” she said. “I want to enjoy this time we have with her, before all the hullabaloo starts up.” She patted his hand before letting it go. “But do fetch us something to eat. I’m famished.”
He bowed his head. “Of course, dear.”
She nodded her thanks. As he opened the door, he looked back on the blissful sight of his wife and daughter together, perfectly content, and smiled.
»» —— ««
Agnarr carried the tray of biscuits and tea with deliberate and careful steps as he made his way down the hallway from the kitchens back to the bedroom, chastened after nearly dropping the whole set a few minutes before in his unfamiliarity with the task.
Gerda, walking behind him, fretted over his apparent clumsiness. “Your Majesty, please, won’t you let me bring it to the queen?”
“It’s fine, Gerda,” he refused, trying to wear a reassuring smile even as it was clear he was concentrating intently in order not to trip. “I won’t break anything, I promise.”
The older woman muttered under her breath, following him despite his protests until they were a few paces from the bedroom door. At that point, after a sharp glance from the king, she relented and left him to his own devices.
Alone again, he sighed, placing the set down gingerly on the armchair by the door. “I’m coming in!” he called to Iduna, resting his hand on the doorknob.
A shriek from the queen, followed by the sound of their baby’s wailing, almost made the king fall back in surprise. He rushed into the room in alarm—only to find himself frozen in place by the sight that greeted him.
Their child lay crying on its back on the bed, a swirl of snow surrounding its tiny body. The queen was pressed up against the wall beside it, her entire frame shaking as she stared at the girl in open terror.
Agnarr regained his bearings long enough to close and lock the door behind him, drowning out the distant cries of worry from Gerda down the hall, and then sprinted towards his daughter. He gathered her up and pressed her into his chest even as a cold wind and snow whipped around them both, making him shiver.
As his warmth slowly enveloped her, however, so too did the strange elemental effects dissipate, until finally the baby was quiet again.
He sighed as he sat on the bed in exhaustion, and nodded for Iduna to join him. “Everything’s all right now,” he assured her. The baby whined a little. “She just needs to be fed.”
The queen returned to his side with caution, her face still drawn, and eventually took the child back into her arms. With a trembling hand, she unbuttoned and pulled aside a flap of her nightgown, pressing the infant to her exposed breast.
To both parents’ surprise – and relief – the child suckled without further dramatics, and Iduna released a long, shuddering sigh.
»» —— ««
Several minutes and harried exchanges with Gerda later, the child was asleep again in her mother’s arms. Her innocent, peaceful face gave no indication that she was aware of the fuss that had just taken place around her.
Once she was sure that the child would not stir, Iduna placed her on the bed, nestling her among the pillows and fresh sheets that Gerda had insisted upon providing (even though she had been disallowed from setting them up within the room herself, much to the woman’s displeasure). She remained sat on the edge of the bed, silent, taking little comfort in their temporary respite.
Agnarr had been quiet since the baby’s extraordinary display, pacing between the hearth to warm himself, and the door to shoo any interruptions away from the room.
She swallowed, and spoke at length. “It’s because of me,” she whispered, looking at the ground with shame. “It is my blood that has caused this.”
The king paused in his nervous walk to look at his wife, perplexed. “What do you mean?”
She would not meet his stare. “Do you remember how we first met?” she asked.
His head cocked to the side as he walked towards her, stopping just short of the bed. “Of course,” he replied. “I was sixteen, making the rounds with my father meeting townsfolk, and you were selling bread at market… but what does that have to do with anything?”
She hesitated at the question. “That… wasn’t actually the first time we met.”
He frowned, crossing his arms. “What are you talking about, Iduna?”
The queen pressed her hands together in front of her, her brows stitched in thought, and finally met her husband’s gaze. “It was during the battle in the Enchanted Forest. You were knocked unconscious when some large rock came loose, and I…” She reddened. “I got us out of there before the forest was sealed off, and left you with some soldiers who had managed to escape. They brought you back home, and I fled into the mountains.”
Her vision misted over as the memories returned to her. “Luckily, I was found by a kindly older woman and her husband there. They were never able to have children of their own, if you remember,” she said, “so they took me in, without question, and taught me their trade.”
The king stared at her in dumbstruck silence; after a time, his arms uncrossed, and he pulled over the rocking chair from the fireplace towards the bed, sitting down again. “When we met at market,” he drawled, “I asked you if I’d seen you before. Do you remember?”
She blinked in surprise, and then nodded. “You denied it at the time,” Agnarr noted, one eyebrow raised.
Iduna grimaced. “I was afraid you would find out the truth.”
He connected the threads with sudden clarity. “That you were one of them,” he said, his eyes wide. “One of the Northuldrans.”
Her face grew hot. “Yes,” she admitted. “I never told you before, because I know the history between our peoples. Because of what happened to your—”
At Agnarr’s darkening expression, she stopped, curling her fingers around the cloth of her nightgown in her lap. At length, the king turned his stare on the sleeping child in the bed next to her. “And what of our child’s powers?” he asked. He eyed Iduna with suspicion. “Did you know she would be born with such abilities?”
Iduna sighed, shaking her head. “No,” she said. “It was just as much a surprise to me as it was to you. None of the Northuldrans have had such powers—not for several generations, at least.” Her brow grew furrowed. “In the old days, it is said that some of my people gained them through their relationship with the spirits of the Forest. I don’t know how, but it seems as if Elsa has inherited some of this magic.”
The king said nothing, and stared blankly at the painted blue wall behind the bed.
Iduna trembled. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I should never have kept this hidden from you.” Her eyes were full of fear as he remained silent. “Please, Agnarr, say something, lest I lose all hope.”
Her husband’s frame was taut, and his expression betrayed nothing even as he began to speak. “Do you know what happened to my mother—Queen Rita?”
Iduna was taken aback by the question at first, pausing to collect her thoughts. “Only that she disappeared when you were still a child, never to be seen again,” she recalled, eyeing Agnarr with a growing sense of dread. “Your father blamed it on evil spirits, if I remember correctly.”
Agnarr’s lips were pressed together in a thin line. “He was already a superstitious man before that happened, and afterwards…” The king sighed, and slumped forward in the chair. “He considered the mere existence of an ‘enchanted’ forest anywhere within his realm to be a personal insult, even if its inhabitants exhibited no special powers.” He looked at her morosely. “And you know how that ended.”
Iduna swallowed, and made no reply.
The king looked pained by his memories. “I still don’t know what really happened to her,” he said, “though I think I understand why she left. My father thought that buying her trinkets was enough to demonstrate his affections, but… she missed home, and her family. And he never grasped that.” He frowned. “In fact, he took offense at it. Which only made her more miserable.”
Agnarr paused for a while, and weariness overwhelmed his previously stern countenance. “My father was wretched with grief and anger for years after she left, and I cannot blame him for that. I imagine I would feel much the same if I lost you.”
Iduna stared at her husband in surprise, and then her lip quivered as she threw herself into his embrace, burying her weeping face in the crook of his shoulder. He held her shuddering body tightly, his eyes closed as he kissed her exposed cheek.
“Oh, Agnarr,” she said through muffled sobs, “I’m so sorry.”
He held her as he waited for her crying to subside, and then asked in a gentler manner: “Do you know anything about our daughter’s magic, Iduna? Are there any stories about such powers among the Northul—your people?”
His self-correction made Iduna smile, and she glanced back at their child. “I’ve forgotten most of those stories, truth be told,” she said. “I’ve been in Arendelle too long, I think.”
Agnarr nodded in understanding. “That’s all right, dear, I was only wondering—”
“Wait,” Iduna interrupted, sitting up in her husband’s lap with a start. “There was one old Northuldran legend, about a Snow Queen… she was said to have frozen over entire kingdoms that refused to obey her will.”
At the king’s paling expression, Iduna nervously added: “It was probably just a fairytale made up to scare children, and teach us right from wrong. I doubt our little Elsa would ever be so powerful as to do such fantastical things.”
Agnarr’s lips twisted into a frown, and he raised Iduna off his lap and onto the bed as he stood, pacing again. “We cannot be sure,” he said, his hands clasping behind him. He stared at Elsa with concern. “My father did a fine job of scaring the wits out of everyone in the kingdom with his tales of the evils of magic, and inculcating the same prejudices in them which he held himself. Even if her powers never reached such heights as the stories describe, the fact that she has them at all is—” He shook his head, his troubles mounting. “We’ve only just forged a hard-won peace with Weselton, and secured some new trade routes that had previously been closed to us, no thanks to my father. And all of that would be at risk if they knew, let alone…”
Iduna caught his meaning as he stopped in his tracks, and the two exchanged a long, uncomfortable look.
“Albert,” she finished for him, her mouth dry. “He cannot know about this, Agnarr.”
The king’s expression was bleak. “No,” he agreed, “he cannot.”
Iduna trembled. “Well, that settles it,” she said, trying to sound resolute. “We’ll teach Elsa how to conceal her powers, so that no one ever finds out about them. That way—”
“It’s impossible, Iduna,” Agnarr cut in, pressing a hand to his forehead. “We cannot keep such magic in check forever. And besides, it… would be too cruel to ask that of her. She will not understand.”
“It’s the only way, Agnarr,” his wife insisted, though her lips quivered. She bit them to keep them still. “If we explain to her why it’s necessary, and keep her safe within the castle, away from the town—” Iduna broke off, unable even to convince herself of the workability of her plan, and tears began to collect in her eyes once more.
Agnarr could not keep the despair from his own voice. “Even if we could manage it, and keep her hidden away until she comes of age,” he murmured, resting a hand on her shoulder, “how, then, could we ensure that she would not reveal her powers to her future husband?” He frowned. “If that boy is anything like his father, he would no doubt try to manipulate her, and use this great power to suit his and Albert’s purposes.” He shuddered. “I cannot allow that to happen.”
Iduna stared at the child, her brow bearing the weight of defeat. “But what can we do, Agnarr?”
The king stood stock-still in contemplation, relying on every fiber of his remaining self-composure not to collapse back into the chair. A creeping shadow of gloom crawled across his face, darkening his brow. “There may be a way,” he said, swallowing.
At Iduna’s forlorn, questioning look, he continued: “Before my mother left, when she was at the height of her suffering, she would talk sometimes about a magical race of creatures that had the power to ‘heal’ her.” He paused, and clarified: “Trolls, apparently, living in a valley somewhere in the mountains above Arendelle. She said they could perform all manner of spells, and I heard her talk in her sleep once or twice about wanting to go see them.”
Iduna stared at her husband in disbelief. “Trolls.”
He reddened. “Yes, well,” he said, “I realize how absurd this sounds, Iduna, but…” He glanced at Elsa. “Now that I’ve seen what our child is capable of, the idea of magical trolls doesn’t seem so farfetched.”
“What are you saying, Agnarr?” Iduna snapped, shaking her head. “That your mother went to see them? That they helped her… ‘disappear’?”
His shoulders raised in defensiveness. “I don’t know,” he conceded, “but what if that were the case? What if…” He sat back down in the rocking chair suddenly, staring at Iduna with clear eyes. “They erased her memory.”
Iduna frowned. “How can you be sure?”
“I’m not,” Agnarr admitted, “but if the trolls are as powerful as she said, then… it might explain where she ran off to, and why she never came back.” He sulked. “I wonder if father knew.”
Iduna took in this speculation with confusion and annoyance, pressing a hand to her right temple as she sighed. “Even if that is what happened,” she began, trying to keep the impatience from her voice, “what does any of this have to do with Elsa?”
Agnarr struggled to answer for a time, unable to articulate his thoughts. At his wife’s expectant stare, he offered: “We could take her to them, and ask them to… remove her powers.”
The queen shot up in alarm. “Have you gone mad?” she hissed. “Do you have any idea how sacred and special her magic is?” Fury alit in her blue irises. “It is a gift, Agnarr. No matter what your father – or anyone else – thinks or says, it is a part of her eternal soul. To take it away from her would be akin to spitting in the eye of God himself.”
“Then what do you suggest?” the king retorted, exasperated. “What other choice do we have?”
Iduna’s anger faded as she contemplated the question, and her expression grew melancholic. Agnarr, sensing the shift in her mood, placed one hand on hers. He noted that it had gone cold.
“What is it, Iduna?”
She stared at him in quiet desperation, and before she could stop herself, her face sunk into her hands, and she wept.
»» —— ««
“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?”
The question weighed on Agnarr more than the physician expected, and the latter exchanged a glance with Gerda as the doors to the king’s private study were closed behind them by a guard. The dark, windowless room seemed impossibly small, lit up only by a candelabra on the desk between the king and his guests, though a keen observer could notice its impressive depth and height through the flames.
Agnarr’s head was bowed for a moment, and when the silence grew too difficult to bear, he released a shaky exhale. When his gaze met theirs, they were stunned to find it fresh with tears.
“The child passed this morning, in the queen’s arms,” he said, his voice tremulous from grief. “Just after we named her—Elsa.”
Gerda’s hands flew to her mouth to suppress a cry, though she began to sob into her handkerchief soon after. Nils entered a state of shock, staring at the king in utter bemusement.
“But, Your Majesty… how is this possible? I saw the princess just a few hours ago, healthy as a newborn could be.” He shook his head. “How could her condition deteriorate so suddenly? Why…” He frowned deeply. “Why did you not call for me sooner, if she was—”
Agnarr rose his hand, quieting the physician. “It all happened very suddenly, I assure you,” he murmured. “It seems you were right after all, Nils, about the dangers of premature birth.” He closed his eyes, and his lips trembled. “I only wish we had not glimpsed what could have been, before the end.”
Nils’s frown eased, but only slightly. “Your Majesty,” he began more gently, “please, let me see the child. It will help me to better ascertain what happened, and be sure of Her Majesty’s health as well…”
The physician trailed off as he realized that the cold determination in the king’s eyes would not allow for further argument. “She needs time alone with the child – with Elsa – to grieve, in her own way,” Agnarr said. “Then, we will relinquish it and make preparations for the funeral.”
“But sire,” Gerda mustered the strength to speak through her tears, “it’s not proper. The child’s body, it will—” The woman gave in to a fitful sob at the thought before continuing. “It will cause Her Majesty great sorrow to see the princess that way.”
Nils did not speak, but his grim expression indicated his agreement with the maidservant.
Agnarr’s mouth pressed into a thin, firm line. “These are the queen’s wishes,” he stated, “and it would only cause her greater sorrow to take the child from her so soon.”
Gerda hid her moan of anguish in her handkerchief, and Nils patted her on the back, his frown etched into his wizened features as he stared at the king. “Very well,” he relented, bowing his head. “We will wait until Her Majesty’s mourning period is over.”
Agnarr gave a faint nod of thanks. “I appreciate both of you – your service, and your care – through all of this,” he said. Turning to Gerda, he added: “Leave any meals outside of the room for the evening. I will bring them to her myself.”
The older woman managed a nod in return, the cloth in her hands barely stifling her constant sniffles.
He turned his back on them, his hands clasped behind him. “You may go,” he said.
Agnarr waited until he was sure that they had left to release a deep, shaking sigh. He gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white, and then exhaled again, turning his attention to the tiered bookshelves which lined either side of the room, stretching out into the darkness of the far wall.
With sudden and frantic energy, the king began to rifle through the books, coughing and sneezing through the clouds of dust and cobwebs which greeted him as he pulled them off the shelves with little regard for their long-undisturbed state. His initial, methodical skimming of the first shelf was quickly replaced by mere glances as he ripped books from the successive ones, clearing out rung after rung, unsure even of what he was seeking.
Long minutes that felt like hours passed in this way, and by the time Agnarr reached the far end of the room – though he was only halfway through the stacks – he leaned back against it, spent of his energies and despairing of the futility of his quest, resting the candle in his hand down on the floor.
He sat there in the gloom of his father’s former study, now his own, caught in a state of bewildered insomnia when he brushed his hand against the candle, causing it to tip over to the ground. Luckily, he reacted fast enough to put out the flame that began to catch on a nearby loose sheaf of paper, and turn the candle back upright. As the remaining smoke tendrils rose from the burnt page, he sighed, accepting even this small bit of relief.
Agnarr.
The king’s back was rigid at the familiar voice, and he stared out into the darkness with terror in his eyes.
“Who—who’s there?” he whispered, looking to and fro. When nothing answered him, he curled his hand around the candleholder at his side, though he dared not move from his seat. His lip quivered. “Show yourself!” he demanded, unnerved.
A sighing wisp of a sound encircled him, causing the flame of his candle to flicker and dance, and then seemed to disappear into a corner of the room to his left. Agnarr followed its path with wide eyes, seeing it end somewhere at the very bottom shelf on the other, untouched side of the room. He grabbed his candle, ignoring the burn of hot wax as it dripped onto his bare hands, and held it towards the spot where the voice had led him.
There, nestled between inconspicuous volumes bound in the same, dark brown leather as most of the other tomes in the room, was a slightly larger and red-colored spine. He pulled it out with greater care than he had for any other book in the study, surprised by its heft, and gently laid it down on the wooden floor below. He blew away the dust that obscured the text on its cover.
Even when it became legible, however, the king found that it was comprised of ancient runes in which he had no education or training, and so he could make little sense of what its contents might be. When he opened it to the first few pages, paragraphs upon paragraphs of the same, unreadable runes greeted him.
“Very helpful,” he muttered to himself, glaring at the candle’s steady flame in his hand. “I must be going mad,” he said, sighing, and moved to place it back on the shelf.
Forgetting its weight, the book fell from Agnarr’s hands as if in protest, and as it banged onto the hard floor, it opened to a section that he had not yet seen. He held the candle with trepidation and curiosity over the pages, careful not to drip any wax onto them, and his eyes widened as he got a better look at their contents.
On the left was a page of runic script, but on the right was a faded illustration of a mysterious, dark creature with narrow, yellow eyes, its hands raised to the sky. Below it lay the sleeping body of a man on a carved stone bench – a nobleman, or perhaps even a king, Agnarr thought, from the looks of his fine raiment and armor – and from the man’s head, extending into the sky, were swirls of smoke and clouds of fantastic colors, all intermingling to create a stark and foreboding image.
The king shuddered at the sight even as he was unsure of its meaning, and he ran his hand over the lines of the drawing. He paused over the head of the sleeping king, feeling an unusual groove on the surface of the page; smoothing his fingers down, he realized it ran all the way to the bottom, and he quickly turned to the next page.
Folded and tucked into the centerfold of the book was a loose paper, sandwiched between another page of text and what looked like an illustration of a white stag. Agnarr ignored the picture, and busied himself with unfolding the paper. Flattening it out against the other pages with one hand, he felt his jaw go slack in surprise, and he had to hold tightly onto the candle to keep it from falling over again.
It was a map, with the fjord and castle of Arendelle drawn prominently in the bottom left corner, encircled on all sides by nondescript forests and mountains colored beige, brown, and dark green. From the castle was demarcated a clear path in red dashes through the mountains, to a spot at the top right corner of the page marked with a large “X.” Next to it was, Agnarr assumed, the name of the location; and though it was written in the same runes as the rest of the book within which the map had been hidden, the first two letters gave him some clue as to what – or who – could be found at the final destination.
“Trolls,” he murmured. The candle flickered, seemingly in agreement. He eyed it with wonder, and then looked up at the ceiling, seeing nothing more than total darkness… but sensing much more beyond it.
Collecting his wits, Agnarr folded the map back up and slid it into his breast pocket, and then closed the red book and slid it back onto the shelf. Standing with newfound strength from the floor, he walked back with brisk purpose towards the entrance. Once there, he lingered in the doorway to look back with a sad smile, disregarding the disarray his manic search had caused in the room.
“Thank you, mother,” he whispered, and left.
»» —— ««
The path to the stables was as shrouded in December’s eternal nightfall as every other part of the kingdom, and Agnarr was thankful for having traveled there enough times in daylight to know his way in the dark. He adjusted the sling against his chest so that it faced more towards him, and the deep, royal blue color of its cloth was well-disguised beneath his plain brown riding cloak.
His steward followed close behind with a lantern, though the light did little to illuminate their path. When they reached their destination, the older man gave a sigh of relief, holding aloft the light so that the king might better see the harness and gates guarding his prized horse, Sigurd. He eyed the king’s costume questioningly, but Agnarr would not answer the look as he untied his steed, leading it out of its stall with the trained hands of a horseman.
After carefully laying the saddle atop its broad back, he nodded to the steward, who waited expectantly, bracing himself. The king grabbed the older man’s shoulder, using the leverage to slide his foot into the stirrup and mount Sigurd.
A small, babbling sound escaped the bundle slung across Agnarr’s chest; the older man stared at it for a moment, but said nothing. The king almost sighed with relief, but elected instead to nod at the gesture of discretion in thanks.
The steward could not help but demonstrate some concern. “Are you sure about this, Your Majesty? There have been reports of brigands in the mountains as of late, and I can easily send one of the guards to go with you—”
“There are some sensitive matters I must discuss with the tradesmen there—too sensitive for company,” Agnarr interrupted in an authoritative tone, though his face reddened with embarrassment at his own vagueness. He adjusted the sling again, and continued in a more conciliatory way: “I will return before sunrise, Kai.”
The steward’s skeptical expression was obvious even in the dim lighting, but he did not press the king further on the matter, and stepped back from the horse.
The king could not bring himself to address the man’s suspicion, and whispered into Sigurd’s ear. The horse gave a whinny of comprehension, and the two set off down the path to the gates at a quick pace, disappearing into the night.
»» —— ««
Agnarr arrived at the location marked on the map – or where he thought it should be, based on his knowledge of the mountains – with a weariness etched into his brow that made him appear far older than his twenty-one years.
He had come upon a clearing in the forest resembling a Roman amphitheater, and the full moon above shone on the stage and surrounding theatron, which were covered in moss as if from long disuse. From his vantage point at the edge of the forest path leading into it, he could also make out countless stone orbs of various shapes and sizes, all draped with moss that matched their surroundings, scattered throughout the rows.
The king eyed this warily, clutching the bundle across his chest close to him as he dismounted Sigurd. He tied the horse to a tree nearby, and proceeded with caution into the center of the arena. “Hello?” he called out.
When nothing answered him, he swallowed, and made a second attempt in a more confident voice. “I am King Agnarr of Arendelle,” he announced, “and I have come seeking help.”
His statement was met with another bout of silence, and sweat beaded at his forehead as the bundle across his chest started to wriggle, making small mewling noises.
“Please,” he said, looking around at the empty valley in desperation, his eyes growing misty from the threat of tears, “I have no one else to turn to. The very fate of Arendelle is at stake.”
Finally, at this plea, Agnarr began to hear – and feel – a series of rumblings all around him, the very earth quaking beneath his feet. He looked down to plant them more firmly and keep himself from tripping, and in the background Sigurd whinnied with fright, bucking against his restraints. When the king lifted his gaze again, he was shocked to find that the same static, stone orbs he had observed before were rolling down the theatron of their own accord, until they were completely encircling him.
No sooner had he adjusted to the notion of self-propelling rocks than they began to take the forms of living beings, one by one uncurling into equally circular, stocky trolls.
At first, they seemed all alike in their terrifying newness to Agnarr: a small mop of bedraggled hair atop their heads, smocks or tunics made of moss covering their small bodies, jewelry containing precious minerals and stones strung around their necks and wrists, and impossibly large eyes that stared at him and caused him to shrink under their scrutiny. Sigurd’s incessant, fearful whinnying in the background did nothing to dispel his own fear, and he stood stock-still, unable to move.
After a minute or so, however, the king found their collection of eyes more curious than threatening, and was slowly able to differentiate the creatures from one another by the color of their necklaces, or the particular partings of their mossy hair. This calmed him, and as his breathing returned to a more normal rhythm, so too did his steed quiet in the background.
The trolls began to clear a path amongst themselves, and through it, one approached Agnarr with a slow, deliberate gait. Judging by the length of its mane, its long moss cloak, and the ostentatious, heavy decorations of green baubles strung about its chest, the king guessed that it was their elder.
“Your Majesty,” it said, bowing as much as its age would allow. Agnarr nodded in return. “I am known as Grand Pabbie among our folk. It is a pleasure to meet the son of Her Majesty, Queen Rita, after so many years.” The troll paused, registering the surprise on the king’s face at the mention of his mother. “But tell me, what brings you to the Valley of the Living Rock?”
Agnarr hesitated, but soon found himself pulling back his cloak and drawing down the top of the blue cloth to reveal his daughter’s waking features. Her bright blue eyes and soft coos were met with a chorus of “ooh”s and “aah”s from the crowd, who gathered in closer around the king to catch a glimpse of the newborn.
He was both comforted and unsettled by the attention, and unconsciously stepped back with Elsa. Pabbie, sensing this, gave him an encouraging nod to continue. “It’s all right, Your Majesty,” he reassured the king.
Agnarr swallowed. “I’ve come with a difficult – unthinkable – request,” he corrected himself, his voice shaking. “I only make it out of desperation, for the safety and life of the princess.”
At the encouraging and concerned looks of the trolls, he looked down at his child, and laid out the account of his coming to the valley in detail: how he met the queen; her true heritage, and the magic present amongst her folk; the conflict between her people and his father; the fear of magic in Arendelle; the unusual and difficult pregnancy, as well as the premature birth of the princess; and, finally, how Elsa’s powers had manifested earlier that same day.
When he finished, Pabbie asked: “May I take a look, Your Majesty?”
Before Agnarr could inquire as to what he meant, the elder troll conjured a cloud of fine, purple dust that seemed to seep out of the king’s forehead into the air above them, recalling to him the illustration he had seen in the red book. The cloud began to take shape, revealing Agnarr’s memory of seeing Elsa’s powers for the first time. The trolls tittered in astonishment at the magic, and the king watched the scene replay with the same dread and awe as he had just a few hours before.
As the spell came to a close and the cloud faded away, Pabbie looked with wonder upon the babe in the king’s arms. “Truly remarkable,” he murmured.
Agnarr shifted uncomfortably at the remark, and continued: “Yes. And Iduna and I could have borne all of these difficulties, but for one: Elsa has been betrothed to a prince from the Southern Isles since before her birth, as this was the price named by its king for his support in rebuilding Arendelle after the war.” He shook his head. “And that is not one we are willing to pay, after discovering her powers.”
The elder’s brows furrowed. “Why do you fear this king, sire?”
Agnarr frowned. “He is cruel, Grand Pabbie, prone to exploiting whatever unsavory opportunities he can to give himself the greatest advantage over others. While I know my father’s flaws full well, his mistrust of Albert was not one of them. That man…” He sucked in a breath. “He had his own brother killed to hold onto the throne, and has had the audacity to claim the death was a ‘tragic accident’ ever since.”
The trolls murmured to each other with wide eyes at this revelation, but Pabbie’s brow merely rose while he otherwise remained calm. “And you fear that he would bring the same harm to the princess, or otherwise seek to use her to bad ends,” he surmised.
Agnarr nodded. “Yes. We’re quite certain he would, which is why…” He trailed off, staring down at his child through a veil of mourning, and then looked back up at the troll with unspeakable grief. “We do not have the means to conceal her powers forever, nor would we even know how to do so.” His eyes closed, and he trembled. “It was by the queen’s request that I come here, and ask that you look after Elsa in our place. I had hoped we could ask you to remove her powers instead, but my wife forbid it.”
The trolls gave a collective gasp at this admission, with consternated whispers traveling through the crowd. Pabbie raised his hand, quieting the ruckus. “And Her Majesty was right to do so,” he affirmed. “Though, truth be told, it would’ve been impossible for me to fulfill such a request, even if you had asked it of me. There exists no such power in this world.” He paused, glancing at the child. “Does anyone else know that you’ve brought her here?”
“No,” Agnarr replied. “Her birth had not been announced, and I told the physician and servants that the princess died shortly after her birth.” He reddened. “Truthfully, I’m not sure they believed it.”
The elder was quiet for a while at this, and stared with sympathy at the child, who continued to flitter between sleep and wakefulness. “Her power will only grow with time,” he said. “There is beauty in her magic, but also great danger.” He gazed up at the king. “You did the right thing in bringing her to us, Your Majesty. We can raise her as one of our own, and teach her to use this great power for good. But…” The troll’s eyes softened. “Are you sure you want to do this? For if you do, she will never know you as her father, nor the queen as her mother—nor will you be able to see her again, lest you risk raising suspicions about her parentage.”
With tears trickling down his cheeks, Agnarr assented with a tiny nod. “Yes,” he murmured.
Pabbie bowed his head. “So be it.”
The trolls watched in silence, waiting; Agnarr, shaking, held onto his child for as long as he could, and then knelt down, his tears falling onto her cheek. He removed one riding glove to wipe it away, and then pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Removing the scarf from around his neck, he wrapped it around the princess as he drew her up from the sling, and whispered:
“Goodbye, my sweet Elsa.”
With weak hands, he handed her to an older, matronly troll who had stepped forward from the crowd to stand beside Pabbie. As the exchange was completed, the king stifled his sobs, as did the trolls surrounding him, who watched the scene with oddly human tears streaming down their stony features.
Pabbie placed a surprisingly warm hand on his shoulder. “It will be all right, Your Majesty. Rest assured that she will live well and happily in the Valley, in harmony with nature and her magic.”
The gesture was of little comfort to Agnarr, who continued to cry. At length, Pabbie took the king’s ungloved hand in his, and with the other he removed one of the jewels from his necklace. He chanted a brief incantation under his breath that turned the mineral from green to purple, and then pressed it into Agnarr’s palm.
“Crush this gem into fine powder when you return to the castle,” he instructed, “and mix just a few grains of that into the drink or food of anyone who saw the princess alive. It will ensure that their memories of her are erased, and confirm your story about the queen’s miscarriage.”
Agnarr wiped his tears away with the heel of his gloved palm. “I will,” he nodded. “Thank you.” After a moment, he felt his lips quivering again. “Grand Pabbie…”
The troll was attentive, holding the king’s hand. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
The king swallowed uneasily. “I hate to ask this, or even think of it yet, but… if Iduna and I have another child, will it also—”
“Have powers?” Pabbie finished. Agnarr nodded, red-faced. “No, sire,” the troll assured him. “It is highly unlikely. Such magic only comes along once in a generation, if at all.”
“You’re sure of this?” Agnarr asked.
“Yes,” the troll repeated, and added in a kinder tone: “You needn’t worry.”
The king could not help but release a small sigh of relief, though it was soon replaced by a deep look of regret as he heard the princess gurgle from within the scarf with which she had been wrapped.
He stood, turning away. “I should go, now, before my presence is missed,” he murmured, and the trolls parted to clear a path for him back to Sigurd. The horse watched his return with impatience, knocking the ground beneath him with one hoof for emphasis, and Agnarr quickly untied him.
As the king slotted one foot into a spur, he was surprised to find Pabbie before him again, staring with understanding and warmth so pure that it caused him to shudder.
“Your Majesty,” the troll said softly, “I promise that we will keep her safe.”
Agnarr paused for a moment, staring down at the elder. The dried tracks of his tears were still visible on his face under the moonlight.
“Tell me, Pabbie,” he murmured, “did my mother hesitate, before you erased her memories?”
The troll’s expression lifted in surprise, and then turned wistful. “She loved you very much, sire,” he said. “Were it not for her fear of your father’s reprisal, she would have taken you with her.”
Fresh tears brimmed in Agnarr’s eyes. “Answer the question, Pabbie.”
The old troll sighed. “Of course she did. To give up a child… it is the most difficult decision in the world. But she knew you would suffer more, if she raised you in her condition.” He gazed up at the king with a knowing expression. “I know it probably never made much sense to you before, though perhaps it does now.”
Agnarr’s lip quivered, and he found he could not challenge the assertion. Without speaking another word, he swung onto Sigurd’s saddle in one swift, practiced motion, and allowed himself one last glance at his daughter.
“Tell her we loved her,” he said at last, turning away. “Tell her we’ll never forget her.”
Pabbie bowed his head, and the king threw his hood back over his head. Guiding his steed towards the path into the forest, the two set off towards Arendelle at a clip.
In the distance, the child began to cry.
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his sweet omega ⇢ jjk
he’s your alpha, and you’re his sweet omega.
pairing — alpha!jungkook x omega!malereader,
genre — fluff, omegaverse au, college au, roommates au, friends to lovers au,
warnings — age-gap (the reader’s eighteen and jungkook’s twenty-two), swearing, past mentions of fuckboy!jungkook, jungkook is very soft for the reader, both parties are oblivious for the other’s feelings, and brief mentions of male pregnancy
requested by — anonymous
author’s note — honestly really loved this request so thank you to whoever sent this to me. and just a small heads up, this is my first time dealing with anything with werewolves so forgive me if there are any mistakes on the topic. i’m still learning about this type of au.
word count — 3k
masterlist
“—and he just told me that he couldn’t date me anymore. No real reason, just that he can’t.”
Jungkook couldn’t believe what he was hearing right now. How could Jaehyuk, your now ex-boyfriend end your guys’ six month relationship without any explanation? It wasn’t like you two had any problems, if anything the two of you were perfect for each other.
Jaehyuk—just the thought of his name already made Jungkook’s blood boil—was an alpha, and since you were only an omega, he protected you like an alpha should and treated you with complete respect and equality, unlike how other people do to omegas. That’s what made Jungkook like him when you first introduced them to each other, because Jaehyuk wasn’t like any other alpha. He was kind and didn’t order you around and treat you like you were his property like most alphas did to their omegas.
Jungkook still remembers the day you introduced him to Jaehyuk, because the image of your big smile and wide eyes shining with passion was engraved in his mind. It was just like any other day, Jungkook was on the couch in your guys’ apartment, waiting for you to come home from your morning lectures so that you two could go out for lunch together. You came back on time, but you also had someone else with you—Jaehyuk. At first, you introduced him as your classmate but from the way you glowed as you spoke about him told Jungkook otherwise. He joined you two for lunch that day, and Jungkook swore he never saw you blush so much, always shielding your face whenever Jaehyuk would compliment you.
You were so in love.
“I’m going to kill him,” Jungkook found himself growling, eyes flashing their crimson color as he tightened his arms around you, listening to your muffled cries into his chest.
“N-No, dont.” You whimpered out, sniffling and lifting your head to meet his eyes. “That won’t solve anything, Kookie. It’ll just create more problems.”
Jungkook smirked at his nickname, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss on top of your head. “He deserves it though. Nobody hurts my sweet omega and gets away with it.”
Even though your face was hidden from him, Jungkook could already tell you were blushing. You always get flustered whenever he uses his nickname for you. “Can I please beat his ass?”
You laughly softly into his chest, and Jungkook swore he could feel his heart stammer inside. “No,” you pouted, running your fingers along the fabric of his shirt. “Can you just stay here and watch movies and eat junk food with me?”
“Of course—,” Jungkook was cut off by the sound of his phone’s ringing before he had the chance to finish his sentence, causing him to slip one of his arms from you and check to see who was messaging him.
“Who was it?” You glancing up and attempting to peek at his phone, but Jungkook already shoved it back into his pocket.
“Nobody,” he answered bluntly, shrugging. “Just Jimin, wondering if I’m still going to his party tonight.”
You frowned, “You can go if you want.”
Jungkook grinned at your sad expression, pecking your head again before saying, “I’m not going. You need me, not Jimin-hyung. Plus, I rather be here watching movies with you.”
This time you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing mildly. “Thank you,” you mumbled into his torso, your heart beating roughly and uncontrollably inside your chest.
Jungkook smiled, leaning down and gently running his lips along your cheek. “Anything for you, my sweet omega.”
And that’s exactly how you two spent the rest of the day. Laying on the couch, watching endless amount of different kinds of movies with Jungkook’s strong, muscular arms resting around your waist, keeping you secured against his chest.
When the morning came, Jungkook tried to persuade you to stay home and take a break from school just for today, saying how you deserve to have one day of relaxation. But really, he just didn’t want you to run into Jaehyuk alone. And since you two were in different grades—him being four grades higher than you, he wouldn’t be there to protect you if you did end up accidentally running into Jaehyuk.
You refused, of course. Jungkook wasn’t surprised though, you’d always been stubborn. Saying how you weren’t going to let one boy and a broken heart prevent you from attending your classes.
But now, Jungkook couldn’t stop worrying about you, wondering how you were doing right now. His mind was so consumed on you, that he couldn’t focus on his professor’s lecture. He didn’t realize how long he’s been distracted by you until one of his classmates broke him out of his thoughts and informed him that the class has ended.
When leaving the classroom, Jungkook checked the time—it was half past ten. He still has another hour and a half until your morning lectures were done. So he did what every other student on campus did when they needed to kill some time. Chill at the college’s lounge.
Jungkook sat alone at the one of the tables in the very crowded lounge, scrolling through his social media as he patiently waited for you to meet him here. And still, his mind continued to worry about you running into Jaehyuk. You were only an omega, a small, shy, innocent omega and there was no way you could defend yourself—both physically and mentally from someone like Jaehyuk, an alpha.
With his mind practically torturing him, Jungkook finally decided to go and meet you at your class’s building instead of—
“Hey, man.”
Glancing up from his phone, Jungkook’s jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed when seeing your ex-boyfriend standing right in front of him. At least he knew now there was no chance of you running into him anymore. Jungkook could feel his fingers tightening around his phone. It was taking everything in him to refrain himself from beating the absolute shit out of Jaehyuk. His inner wolf practically howling for a fight. “What do you want?” His voice low, eyes glaring threateningly at him.
Without saying anything at first, Jungkook watched as Jaehyuk reached into his backpack and pulled your—his sweatshirt out. “{Name} left his sweatshirt at my place, and I wanted to give it back to him today during class but he’s avoiding me.”
“Can you blame him?” Jungkook spat, snatching his sweatshirt from Jaehyuk’s grasp. Even after not wearing it for so long, he could still smell his scent on it along with yours.
“Okay, I deserve that.” Jaehyuk sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, an awkward tension forming between the two of them. “Alright, well that’s pretty much it. See you around—”
“Why did you break up with {Name}?” The question came out of Jungkook’s mouth faster than this mind could comprehend it. He knew this was none of his business, but he had to know. The image of your crying state was still burned into his head, and it tortured him. He needed answers.
Jaehyuk sighed, running his hand frustratingly through his hair. He glanced at the empty seat beside Jungkook, and when the older alpha nodded his head approvingly, he sat down next to him. “Because he wasn’t mine...”
“What are you talking about?” Jungkook raised a brow at him, shifting himself to the side so that he was fully facing the younger alpha. “You two were together for six months, dude! {Name}’s crazy about you.”
“I know that we were together for a long time,” Jaehyuk groaned, tilting his head back. “But he never felt like he was mine, even to this day. No matter how many times I’ve tried to scent him or mate with him, he always refused.”
“You tried to mate with him?” Jungkook seethed, a growl forming in the back of his throat and his eyes shining their usual alpha color of crimson red. “He’s still a virgin, Jaehyuk! You shouldn’t force him to do something that he isn’t comfortable with yet—”
“I know!” Jaehyuk snapped, banging his fists against the table, earning some curious and annoyed glances from other students. “But I was sick of everyone constantly forgetting that we were together.” He confessed, “Even though we’ve been on dozens of dates together, kissed each other many times in public, people still didn’t believe that we were boyfriends. They thought that...”
Jungkook stared at Jaehyuk confusingly, noticing the way his hands were slightly trembling out of anger. “They thought what?”
“They thought you were his boyfriend,” Jaehyuk mumbled out, frowning.
Jungkook’s heart dropped. Other people thought you two were together? “Why would people think that?”
“Are you fucking stupid?” Jaehyuk suddenly raises his voice, eyes flaring. “It’s because you’re always around him. And when you’re not, your scent surrounds him.”
Jungkook sighed, “Listen man, there’s nothing going on between me and {Name}. We’re just friends—close, childhood friends. We grew up together, and since he’s an omega and I’m an alpha, I’ve just got this natural tendency to protect him.”
“What you’re doing isn’t protecting him,” Jaehyuk commented, “You’re owning him.”
That caused Jungkook to scoff, “That’s crazy.”
“Is it really?” Jaehyuk questioned, cocking his head to the side. “I’ve seen the way you act around him, Jungkook. You always make sure to have your scent on him, whether that be either wearing your clothes or—,” Jaehyuk then winced, closing his eyes briefly before reopening them. “—scenting him personally.”
Jungkook’s hard expression dropped. Even though he didn’t want to admit it, he was right. He always made sure his scent was on you before the two of you left for classes. It wasn’t his intention to make it look like he owned you. He just didn’t want any horny, asshole alphas to force themselves on you—a young, unmated omega while you were alone.
“I’m his—was his boyfriend.” Jaehyuk stated. “He’s suppose to smell like me, not you. I’m an alpha too, like you, and yet people spread around saying that I shouldn’t even be considered as one because I can’t keep a single fucking omega!”
Jungkook frowned, guilt coursing through him. He knew how possessive alphas can be, he’s experienced it himself—with you. For an alpha, reputation was everything. If word got around that they couldn’t keep their omega—or ‘property’ in check and loyal to them, it would damage their reputation greatly and they’d be seen as weak.
“Listen man, I didn’t mean make you feel that way.” Jungkook stared at him sympathetically. “It’s just that I’ve known {Name} since we were kids. We grew up in the same neighborhood, we been through everything together. I guess there’s always been a part of me that wants to make sure he’s safe and protected.”
Jaehyuk sighed, leaning back against his seat. “It doesn’t matter anymore, we’re done.” He then stood up from his chair, pushing it in and slinging his backpack over his shoulders. “You should go for it.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened, “W-Wait, what?” He stared up at Jaehyuk with confusion. “There’s nothing going on between me and {Name}—”
He was interrupted by Jaehyuk’s laugh, the younger alpha shaking his head. “Come on, man. Have you completely ignored what we’ve been talking for the past half hour? You’re crazy about him. You’ve practically marked him without actually marking him.”
Jungkook lowered his head to hide the blush that was creeping up his face.
“It’s pretty obvious that you have feelings for him, Jungkook.” Jaehyuk continued, standing above him. “I’ve heard the stories about your reputation here. How you used to sleep around with anyone that caught your attention. But then you stopped when {Name} moved in with you. I’m right, aren’t I?”
He was. Jungkook couldn’t even say how many omegas or betas he fucked in the past. But when you told him that you got accepted into his college, Jungkook instantly offered you his apartment’s spare bedroom—saying how it’s cheaper to live away from campus than to pay for a dorm. Ever since then he hasn’t slept with anyone—let alone invite them over. It’s been months.
“T-That doesn’t mean I like him—,” once again, he was interrupted by Jaehyuk’s laughter.
“You don’t have to pretend anymore, dude.” Jaehyuk attempted to reassure him, clasping his hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder. “{Name} feels the same way about you.”
Jungkook felt his heart stop and eyes widened. “W-What?” He stuttered out, “No he doesn’t. Why would you think he does?”
Jaehyuk rolled his eyes. “It’s not that hard to figure out, man. Whenever he’s upset or happy about something, you’re the first person he goes to. He cancels our dates for those weekly movie nights you two always have. And when we do have dates, he’s constantly talking about you. Hell, he prefers your scent over his own boyfriend’s.”
He continued to verbally list, “It’s pretty fucking obvious that {Name} likes you, Jungkook.”
Jungkook didn’t know to say. “Just answer me this,” Jaehyuk leaned forward to where his face was inches from Jungkook’s face. “Have you ever thought of {Name} as anything more than friends?”
Jungkook was speechless. Has he ever thought of you romantically? Yes, he thought you were handsome, beautiful even but he always saw you more as a baby brother. But then again, siblings don’t usually scent each other. ‘Siblings’ also don’t sleep in the same bed together, arms and legs tangled with another. With the image of you flashing through his mind, Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder what a future with you would be like.
The thought of falling asleep and waking up beside you every morning, being able to kiss and hold you, and call you his. Mating with you, claiming you—just the thought alone made Jungkook’s heart burst inside his chest. The image himself marrying you, you carrying his children, his pups—oh fuck.
At this point, Jungkook couldn’t stop smiling. He wanted that. That future, with you.
Seeing the expression on Jungkook’s face, Jaehyuk couldn’t help but smile also. Patting his hand gently onto the older alpha’s shoulder, Jaehyuk whispered softly into his ear, “Go for it, man. Before someone else does.” And then he’s gone, leaving Jungkook with his thoughts alone at the table.
Jungkook’s heart was beating uncontrollably, his inner wolf howling loudly, cheering for finally realizing his true feelings for you. Next thing Jungkook knew, he was taking his phone out and messaging you.
jungkook: hey, can’t make it to lunch today. really busy. see you later at home.
And after the message sent through, Jungkook found himself searching for the nearest florist shop.
When recieving Jungkook’s message and reading it, you were confused. He’s never missed lunch with you before, like ever. After replying back with a simple ‘okay,” you headed towards your guys’ shared apartment where you were patiently waiting for him.
Two hours later, you were still waiting for Jungkook at your guys’ apartment, laying down on the living room’s couch in complete silence. As you waited, you couldn’t help but wonder the reason behind his sudden absence. He still hasn’t shown up and you were becoming anxious. This was unlike of Jungkook, completely vanishing from your radar, not replying to any of your messages.
Maybe he’s hooking up with someone right now, your mind thought, making your skin crawl and heart stop. You’ve heard how he was before you moved in with him. How he used to sleep around constantly, always having someone at his apartment. And since you’re living with him now, maybe he’s going to their place instead.
Just thought of Jungkook doing such...intimate things with someone else made your chest ache. You shouldn’t be feeling this way, you knew that. You were with someone for six months, recently, and it’s not like you two were together or anything so Jungkook can be with anyone he wants. Even though that pains you.
But all those paranoid thoughts disappeared when the sound of the apartment’s door opening was heard, causing you to shoot up from the couch and practically sprint towards the entrance. “Kookie, where’ve you been—,” you froze when your eyes landed on him. Right in front of you, Jungkook stood with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.
“W-What’s this—”
“This is for you,” Jungkook spewed out slightly aggressively, anxiously shoving the bouquet of flowers into your hands, which you gladly accepted.
“Thank you,” you smiled softly, leaning down and smelling the sweet scent of red roses. “Why flowers, though? And roses?”
“Because they’re the symbol of love.”
Your smile then dropped, replaced with shock. “W-What,” you stuttered out, eyes widening when Jungkook didn’t say anything. Instead he took a step towards you until he was only inches from you, lowering his head down to meet your wide-eyed gaze. His next words made your heart completely shut down.
“I’m crazy about you.” Jungkook said with such calmness, and you swore you’ve never heard your heart beat so loud before. “And I’m sorry that it took me this long to realize that.” You couldn’t speak a single word, you utterly speechless. Taking in your silence, Jungkook continued. “This entire time, I’ve only thought you as a friend. Someone to protect, and I’ve always blamed that slight possessiveness I had for you on my alpha instincts, but it’s not just that.”
Jungkook then leaned down and placed his hands on your waist, pulling you close to him enough to where your chests were barely pressed against each other. “I want you, {Name}. Not just as a friend, but as my boyfriend, my mate.” His words were taking your breath away, eyes swelling up with tears. “T-That’s if you’ll have as your mate,” he then started to stutter, head lowered to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. “I-I know you just got out of a serious relationship, and I-I’m not pressuring you or anything, I just want you to know—”
You couldn’t help but smile at your alpha’s rambles. You’ve never seen him so flustered, so vulnerable before. Leaning up, you silenced him by pressing your lips softly against his, which he gladly accepted and kissed back, tightening his arms around you. The bouquet of roses fell from your grasp as you moved your hands to rest on his broad shoulders, deepening the kiss as your lips moved perfectly in sync against his.
Jungkook couldn’t help but moan against your mouth, the alpha inside him howling, hungry for more, eyes shining crimson red underneath his closed eyelids. If it wasn’t for the need of oxygen, Jungkook could kiss you forever. Your lips was like alcohol, intoxicating. But nonetheless, you both needed to breath which is why you two pulled away, both heavily breathing.
“W-Wow,” was the only thing that Jungkook could say, smiling widely and cheeks blushing mildly. “Are you sure?” He then asked you, eyes shining with concern and assurance. You shared the expression as he did, jaw aching from how hard you were smiling.
And when you nodded, that’s all Jungkook needed before his lips came crashing back down onto yours.
He’s your alpha, and you’re his sweet omega.
#bonnyskies#bts#bts au#bts x reader#bts x male reader#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook au#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x male reader#jungkook#jungkook au#jungkook x reader#jungkook x male reader#kpop#kpop au#kpop x reader#kpop x male reader
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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story
Chapter 1-19 LIGHT: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation
“Destiny is like a gust of wind… Red leaves flutter, flying away in the face of it. And it is when the winds pick up ― That you meet once more…”
“You shouldn’t question things you aren’t meant to know.“
*Light and Night Master-list
*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut
*Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪
*Main story tag will be #For Light and Night
By the time I returned backstage, everyone was discussing where they should go to celebrate later.
MC: You guys go on without me. I’ll catch up once I’m done packing up here.
Gao Cheng nodded before leaving with Wu Yue and the others.
I headed back to the preparation room alone. It was definitely way more empty now, compared to all the hustle and bustle that had been going on during the contest.
❖☆———————————★❖
The room was unlit, with only the faint moonlight filtering in through the window, casting shadows on the ground.
Just as I was about to flick the lights on, I felt someone forcibly drag me towards a wall with astounding strength.
In the dark, I could see the figure of a man standing before me, tall and broad-shouldered.
The proximity of his breath was scorching as it brushed against my face.
??: Shh.
??: I won’t hurt you.
This voice, this familiar scent…
MC: Osborn!?
The man stiffened for a moment, retreating a couple of steps back. The moonlight filtered in from behind him, lighting up the darkness that was between us.
Surprise flickered through his eyes, but they soon returned to their normal expression.
Osborn: You again?
MC: What are you doing here?
Osborn: Got lost.
MC: …You’re lost?
Somehow, that sounds less credible than when he previously tried to find something he’d lost up on the roof.
Osborn: What? Don’t believe me again?
MC: Of course I don’t. You’re clearly hiding someth—
The smell of blood permeated my nostrils.
❖☆———————————★❖
Relying on the moonlight to see, I realized that he was currently lazily leaning against the wall. Gone was the arrogance I’d seen that day back on the rooftop.
He used a hand to remove the receiver from his ear while the other was braced against the floor. There was even a trail of blood on the side of his palm.
MC: You’re hurt?
❖☆———————————★❖
He didn’t reply to me, only sticking his hand into his pocket.
MC: You’re not going to bandage it?
Osborn: No need.
MC: ……
Strange person, a weird way of making an appearance, and a mysterious wound.
Everything about Osborn made it hard for me to understand him, but even so…
MC: Let me treat your wound.
I walked up to the front of my work table and rummaged around the cabinets for a while, but I couldn’t find anything I could use as a bandage.
Guess there’s nothing I can do about that, then…
All I could do was to find a dress, carefully removing the silk scarf that had been pinned to its neckline, and fishing out some cotton pads from the cabinet.
MC: Clean your wound first, then use this to bandage it up.
Osborn didn’t reach out for the materials. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.
Osborn: You made it?
MC: Mmhm. Why?
Osborn: It’s pretty beautiful. It’ll be a pity to use it as a makeshift bandage.
MC: It’s up to me to decide whether or not it’s a pity. Why are you worrying so much about it?
MC: It has already had its time to shine on stage. Using it as a bandage now is much better, and much more useful than merely shelving it.
He gave a slight start. Seeing as he wasn’t complaining, I took hold of his right hand and started bandaging it.
Osborn: Suddenly getting all bold now, are you? Not scared of me anymore?
MC: I wasn’t even scared of you, to begin with. And the last time was only because I thought you were a thief!
Osborn: Didn’t I just frighten you into a stupor earlier?
MC: You popped out of nowhere! Anyone would be scared by that!
A chuckle sounded overhead. He was chuckling so hard that even the hand I was bandaging started shaking slightly.
MC: Is this really that funny to you? Stop laughing at me.
Angrily tying the knot, I raise my head to glare straight into his eyes.
Those eyes of his, usually filled with such haughtiness, were now filled with a soft moonlit smile.
Osborn: Done?
MC: Yeah.
Osborn lifted his hand to have a look at my “handiwork” before giving a satisfied nod. However, his eyes suddenly turned hard and icy just a split second later.
He leaned down and pressed his index finger to my lips, signalling for me to keep quiet.
I unconsciously held my breath. I could feel the heat rising upwards, stemming from the warmth on my lips and spreading till even the tips of my ears were burning.
Thud, thud, thud.
The footsteps outside the door came closer and closer.
???: Where is the guy!? The bracelet is nearby!
???: Less talking, more working. We have to find it no matter what!
Bracelet? Are they talking about the one I saw up on the roof that day?
I remember Osborn saying that he was the one who lost it, but why does it sound like many people are stepping over each other to obtain it?
My brain was still calmly trying to rationalize things, yet my body couldn’t help but start trembling slightly as I leaned against the door.
A hand suddenly reached out and pulled me over. I frantically raised my head, only to feel something cold get stuffed into my mouth.
Lemon drops?
Osborn: Stop worrying, have a sweet.
The sweet and sour taste of the cool candy spread through my mouth, making me settle down quite a bit.
I didn’t know how long it was before the footsteps outside the door started getting further and further away, until we could hear them no longer.
And thus, this danger that sprung out of nowhere concluded in an equally inconclusive manner.
MC: …They’re gone.
Osborn: I know.
MC: Then, let me go!
Osborn: Oh? And what if I refuse?
His face suddenly got closer, and I could see the mischief in his eyes much more clearly.
Flustered, I struggled in his hold for a while before he was willing to let me go.
Osborn: Alright, I’ve got to go too.
MC: Remember to treat your wound properly when you get home. I only bandaged it.
Osborn: That concerned even for bad guys?
MC: And just which villain will openly call themselves a bad guy?
Osborn: Why wouldn’t there be one? I am.
He opened the door a crack. The light from the corridor shone in.
❖☆———————————★❖
The icy winds rushed in along with the sound of a large number of glass windows collectively shattering. I was so startled that my shoulders shrank backwards, only to be shepherded into a firm and solid embrace in the next moment.
My field of vision suddenly turned pitch black. I hadn’t yet processed what just happened when suddenly, all I could hear was the sound of Osborn’s heartbeat.
A strong and steady rhythm, blocking off all sounds of impending danger.
Osborn: Humph, looks like things are escalating now.
Footsteps accompanied by shouting could be heard from outside the window.
???: Found it! Over here!
Those people that were chasing him earlier actually went and broke the windows!?
Osborn released me, heading straight for the window.
MC: You’re going out!? Aren’t those people outside chasing you?
Osborn: You shouldn’t question things you aren’t meant to know.
Osborn: But, thank you for what you did just now.
He leapt, flipping himself out of the window and disappearing into the darkness outside.
I walked to the window. I could no longer see anyone there, but there was only a small lemon candy left sitting atop the windowsill in his wake.
❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖
Previous Part: (Chapter 1-16) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-19 Night) / Chapter 1-20
#光与夜之恋#Light and Night#Otome#Translations#Tencent#萧逸#Osborn#齐司礼#Sariel#陆沉#Evan#查理苏#Charlie#夏鸣星#Jesse#For Light and Night
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forgive and forget — harry potter
pairing: harry potter x female!reader
prompt: “kill everything dear to you and then you will know how it feels.”
t/w: mentions of death
a/n: this is set a year after the battle of hogwarts! wrote this at 1am n havent proofread it so chances are it sucks but i’m posting it anyway bc you only live once am i right folks
In the darkness and silence of a winter's night, the water is eerily calm—too calm, almost, with a foreboding feeling hanging over it. At the edge of the lake stands a girl whose heart has long since grown much too cold to feel anything but the wide, gaping void inside of her chest. She doesn't shiver; just stands there, holding her wand at her side, gaze fixed on the reflection of the moonshine against the shapeless water, waiting.
And waiting.
And when the figure appears from behind her—a loud, almost deafening snap in the complete and utter silence of the woods, she doesn't turn around right away.
Instead, she twirls her wand in her hand, frowning down at the lake as though expecting something to break through the calm surface and swallow her whole, carry her down into its depths and leave her somewhere deep, deep down, away from the rest of the world.
Thinking about it now, it doesn't sound that bad.
"Did you miss me?" are the first words that leave her mouth since having arrived there. Her voice is as dangerously calm as the lake. Just as foreboding—and it sounds like a warning.
But Harry doesn't heed it. Instead, he stands there, a mere five feet away, watching as she turns around, slowly, to face him.
The last thing he expects is for her to look at him the way she used to. He doesn't expect her to run toward him, take him in her arms, and hug him the way she used to, long ago.
Harry should be prepared for this. But when her gaze meets his and he makes out her eyes in the darkness, cold and unforgiving and void of any emotion, he can't help the way he sucks in a breath, how his heart clenches inside of his chest.
A strange chill settles over him. Sickness; something horrible swelling up in the pit of his stomach as he stares at the girl in front of him. It's not just the look in her eyes that is different. Her hair is cleaner. Shorter. More mature, tucked behind her ears and down her back. Without it framing her face, Harry's eyes are free to roam over the rest of her face, which is gaunt and sunken; there are bags under her eyes so deep he starts to debate whether or not he's looking at a corpse.
It's like seeing a memory that has haunted Harry for decades, when in reality it has only been a year. He knows that face like the back of his hand: her eyes, dark and barely crinkled at the corners. that nose, those careful lips. She is older, but so is Harry. She is a stranger in so many ways, but Harry would know her anywhere.
"[Y/N]," he breathes out, throat tight. His fingers grip even tighter around the wand inside his coat pocket. There's an undeniable sense of fear—dread—coiling around his heart. She stares at him, eyes still hard as ever.
And then her lips tug up at the edges. Her smile is bitter. It's the first real trace of emotion she has let slip, and Harry wonders if he should feel relieved that [Y/N] is still human and capable of feeling. Even if she is angry.
The worst part is that Harry can't blame her.
"I'm sorry," he says, voice barely a whisper.
The smile grows. Suddenly she's laughing—cold, harsh bursts of laughter with no real humor to it. Harry clenches his jaw, watching her. His heart is pounding erratically in his chest; he doesn't know if it's because he senses she's near and yearns for her, the person who it used to beat for, or if it's because it's scared of her.
Oh, how things have changed.
"Sorry?" she repeats, her laughter fading away into the night, replaced by a deadly sort of tension that now hangs above them. "Sorry?"
Harry feels sweat trickle down the side of his temple.
"You're sorry." Her voice is laced thick with equal parts mockery, disbelief, and anger. But even then her eyes are cold and blank as ever.
Since when had she gotten so good at hiding what she truly felt?
"I don't know what else you want me to say," says Harry through gritted teeth, hand tightening around his wand.
Her lips curl. She stares at him for a few moments, unspeaking, and then she nods. "You're right," she says curtly, turning once more to look at the lake behind her. "You know what, Harry? You're right. You killed my parents and walked away from it like it was nothing. There really isn't much else to say other than you're sorry."
He swallows. He can't feel guilty. He can't. "I'm sorry," he says again, unable to hide the way his voice trembles from frustration. Or is it fear? He can't quite tell anymore. "But I did what I had to do. They worked for Voldemort—"
"So you killed them," [Y/N] says, tone ominously void of emotion. "With no regard for their real motive. Without bothering to listen—"
"I had no choi—"
"And realize that they did it to protect their children." When she whips around, Harry sees that her facade of calm has slipped away completely—instead there is pure, unadulterated anger flaring in her eyes. "You say you had no choice but neither did they."
"They were Death Eaters," says Harry, taking a deep breath through his nose, sounding like he's trying to convince himself more than her. "It hardly mattered why they went to Voldemort's side. What mattered was that they did."
She scowls and takes a step forward. Angry eyes boring into his, she hisses, "Did it matter to you that I loved them?"
Harry's fingers feel cold, his neck too hot, the air pressing into him from all sides. He can't feel guilty.
He can't.
"It had to be done," he says flatly, fighting to maintain her gaze. He wonders if he's imagining the way her eyes seem to be glistening with tears. "I'm sorry. I know you loved them but it had to be done."
Harry is right; when she blinks and turns away, he doesn't miss the bead of liquid that rolls down the side of her cheek. All of a sudden he finds himself wanting to leave—to apparate away before he can hear any more. Because this is something that has haunted him for a long, long time, and even then, it is only now that he realizes he isn't quite ready to face it yet.
But here he is now, anyway, standing in front of the girl who once loved him and who he once loved—and maybe part of him still does, even after everything. But Harry knows better than to fool himself into thinking he can have her again.
Not after what he did.
Harry inhales. With difficulty, he keeps his eyes on hers despite the need to tear them away. To turn away and never once look back. But he has to do this now—it's his only chance to finally put an end to all the conflict that has been bothering him ever since he last saw her.
"I know it feels like you'd be turning your back on them if you moved on," Harry begins. This time his voice doesn't shake. "But they're gone. I'm sorry, [Y/N]—"
"Don't call me that."
"Your parents are gone," he repeats. He sees her trying to harden her gaze again—trying to build her walls back up—but she fails, lips pinching. Harry knows it means she's trying to hold her tears back. "They made the wrong choices and they suffered for it. I know what it feels like to lose people you love, but—"
"Do you know what the difference is between you and me?" she cuts him off. Her lips are trembling, angry tears spilling onto her cheeks. "It's that you picked yourself back up, even after you lost people. But I didn't. I haven't. And I don't think I ever will."
Harry feels his heart squeeze into itself inside of his chest.
He's fighting a losing battle. She isn't listening; she's too far gone.
"Do it again." Miraculously, despite the tears on her cheeks and the anguish in her voice, she still sounds ruthlessly angry. "Lose the people you love again. Kill everything dear to you again and then you will know how it feels."
Harry watches as she heaves in a deep, shuddering breath. He doesn't try to say anything anymore—knows that nothing he will say can ever truly heal her.
And with one last pained, scathing look, [Y/N] apparates away.
He never sees her again.
general taglist: @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03 @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy @kpopgirlbtssvt
harry potter taglist: @teheharrypotter
#harry potter#harry potter oneshot#harry potter imagine#harry potter oneshots#harry potter imagines#harry potter x reader#harry potter x you#harry potter x y/n#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fanfic
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Nightcall P.2
Summary: Kurt is obsessive over a model and kidnaps her, taking her along for the ride of the night. P.2
You feel the tiredness behind your eyes when they flutter open, your chest rises and falls slowly as you take in your surroundings. You were home. It was close to six now, but some light still came in through your shades and illuminated your living room sunset orange.
You sit up in confusion, was the whole Spree a dream? More like a nightmare.
Your head is killing you, almost as if there’s a jackhammer in your skull.
You rub at your eyes tiredly, standing up too quick and needing to balance yourself on the arm of the couch you were just laying on.
The apartment’s empty, save for some background noise coming from your laptop.
That’s odd, you didn’t remember leaving your laptop on.
Your vision blurs for a moment but sharpens on the image in front of you. The chat in the live stream is going nuts with all sorts of comments ranging from “when are we going to see some gory shit?” to “bring back Bobby!”
That’s when you realize the person on the live stream is you.
The comments change to asking you if all of this is real and if Kurt is coming back.
Your eyes widen as you read his name.
That’s when you hear him.
“Oh good, you’re awake. I was starting to get scared that I used too much of the stuff.”
You don’t know how much tensing your body can take. You put the screen down, meeting a smiling Kurt who’s dressed in Bobby’s clothes. You know it’s his because of the sponsors you helped him get.
You grab at the nearest thing on the table, brandishing a leftover metal fork at him.
It merely amuses him as he puts your hand down with ease and takes the fork away.
“Come on, did you really think I was going to hurt you? You, of all people? I have no reason to do that.”
“You’ve done worse for less,” you shudder, glancing behind you to find a way out.
“You’re not in any danger with me. You’re safe, okay?” He takes small steps towards you, hands out in a gesture to relax you.
It doesn’t work, it only makes you more nervous. For every step he takes forward, you take one back.
“I bet you’re hungry.” He says, disappearing into your kitchen.
You take this chance to run into your room, remembering there was a landline you never paid attention to there. Maybe you could get out of this still.
Much to your dismay, the line’s been cut by Kurt anyway.
“I didn’t want us to be interrupted.” He says, bringing in his concoction of food.
You don’t have the strength in you to fight and your stomach grumbles at the sight of the food. He holds it out in front of you, waiting.
You stare at it, trying to figure out if anything’s wrong with it.
“I didn’t poison it or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”
When you don’t believe him, he takes a bite out of the sandwich and scarfs it down immediately. Nothing happens.
You take it from him slowly and bite at it before completely devouring it whole.
“Good. You’re going to need energy for later.” He leaves you alone to go back into the living room.
You don’t understand what he means until you hear something drag against your floors. He reappears in your bedroom dragging the body of the same man from the earlier Spree.
You instantly feel sick to your stomach, the food you just ate reaching your throat as you gag at the smell.
You shudder lowly, feeling your shoulders shake and your chest heave as you clasp your hand over your mouth in an attempt to calm yourself.
The dead body in front of you was very much freaking you the fuck out and you didn’t know whether to scream or to cry about your situation.
Kurt makes quick work of the man’s possessions, pocketing them to probably discard them later.
“People are just so rude,” He says. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
Kurt killing someone for demeaning you is something you didn’t see coming. Then again, you didn’t really see yourself being kidnapped on the list of things that would happen this week.
“This makes you worse than Bobby. No, worse than anyone.”
You don’t know where the sudden fuel to comment on his actions came, you were still scared but somehow it came barreling out.
He stops what he’s doing, looking at you in disappointment.
He really couldn’t expect you to go along with this, could he?
“Bobby and I are different, you know that. This is different.”
You didn’t know him.
“So what? You don’t like how the world treated you so you just do whatever you like? Murder as you please?”
He doesn’t argue back, he doesn’t need to. You’re right.
“I’m not just doing this for myself.” He rubs at his temple.
“Kurt,” you muster enough courage to look him dead straight in the eyes. “Do not do this and say that it’s for me. I won’t hesitate -”
“To leave? Go ahead, you’ve had all this time.”
He renders you speechless. He was right, you could’ve easily overpowered him with anything in the room. But if he was so infatuated with you the right thing would’ve been to let you go without consequence.
“You said you trusted me.” He murmurs.
“You ran a fucking light and now you’re a serial killer! It doesn’t apply to both!”
“I’m - I’m not the bad guy here!” He huffs incredulously, as if everything he did wasn’t affecting him psychologically the way it was you. “If anything, I’m doing the world a favor! These are scum of the earth people!”
He calms down. “They get it.”
He points presumably to the laptop mere feet away from you both. The sounds of the stream popped up one after the other.
“Really? Because as far as everybody’s concerned, they all think this is some kind of fucked up joke!”
“Let them believe what they want to believe. They’re finally watching me!”
It doesn’t matter to him that they’re insulting him in the comments, or that he killed someone he considered a friend.
“So everyone has an expiration date for you.” You conclude.
He was only going to use people up. That should’ve been common sense. You don’t understand why that fact made you feel a little dejected. You wish he could revert back to the Kurt you met.
“Do I have an expiration date?”
“No.” He assures. “But if this is going to work I need you to be okay with this.”
“I’m not.”
Fighting him was futile. You were forced into it. You wanted so desperately to warn these people and get the word out. But that's also what he would've wanted. He wanted you to give him exposure. The officer still thinks you did it all willingly, but the footage was more than enough to help you get off with a few repercussions.
You wish you could forget the screams of the people in the car, a thousand washes with soap couldn’t get rid of the blood on your hands. Even if some of them really were assholes, shouldn’t they have also had a chance at redemption?
With each spree, Kurt only was egged on by the audience and those that found the livestream later. Many of them called for you to do something equally as horrifying but you couldn’t. Many suggested for him to get rid of you since you were being ‘boring’. He wouldn’t do it.
And that’s when he set his sights on Jessie. After promptly kidnapping her and trying to convince her to join him to no avail, he takes both of you back to his house. You had enough. You wanted a way out and Jessie was it. You just didn’t know everything would end so bloody.
There’s an ensuing fight, she strangles Kurt with the phone charger and knocks you back in an attempt to stop it. The back of your head collides with the passenger window harshly, forcing you to screech in pain.
Kurt doesn’t take it well.
She swindles Kurt, taking the gun he kept in the glove compartment and arming herself with it. This wasn’t how you wanted it to go. You just wanted her to scare him enough to turn himself in.
But the crazed look in her eye suggested that wasn’t happening.
The final battle takes place at his home. Where all his dirty secrets are let out.
“I’ll shoot you both if you don’t move!”
You keep your hands up, shielding Kurt with your body.
“Jessie please, let’s think about this.”
“And let him get away with all of this? He’s brainwashed you already.”
“He hasn’t - listen he won’t get away with this. Jessie please, give me the gun.”
She wavers, the barrel pointed directly at you. Your heart is beating so fast you almost think you’ll die from a heart attack before the bullet even reaches you.
“No! No, this has to end. He’s fucking crazy, can’t you see that??! This was always going to end with one of us dead anyway, and it’s not going to be me.” She points behind you and almost pulls the trigger but is stopped by you lunging at her.
“No!” You yell.
You tackle her onto the floor, the back of her head bouncing off the leg of the pool table and knocking her unconscious.
You press your index finger against her neck, feeling her pulse. You sigh in relief.
“Why didn’t you let her do it?” Kurt asks suddenly.
“She was going to kill you. I don’t know how I’d feel about that.”
Kurt had no problem having these people on his conscience, but you did. Maybe killing him would be good, but him facing justice for what he did would be better. He could atone for all of this.
“Even after what I did to you?”
You don’t answer and instead prop Jessie against the wall. You were honestly very sorry for it but you were optimistic about the outcome of all of this.
Kurt bends to your level and takes you into his arms, squeezing you tight.
“We did it!” He celebrates prematurely, Jesse’s not even dead but it doesn’t matter to him. He thinks you’re on his side, that’s more than enough.
You smile nervously, his forehead touching yours in what he believes is a tender moment.
“What are you going to do to her?” You’re afraid of the answer.
Kurt’s mood shifts immediately, serious now.
“I have to get rid of her now obviously. If she won’t join us then there’s no point to her.”
His quick response is enough for you to discard all hope that he would walk away from this. You grip the gun in your right hand, sure that he hasn’t seen it.
“This is going to be great! We’re going to be even bigger than all these assholes. And you can finally be by my side, as it should be.”
Your blood runs cold. He’s a dead man walking at this point.
You say fuck it as you abandon all morals. With the free hand you have, you bring it to the nape of his neck and press your lips against his. He’s so distracted by it that he doesn’t feel the front of the gun pressed against his abdomen.
It’s only when you feel your finger pull back the trigger that the shot startles you both and he opens his eyes to looks at you in shock.
You unload another shot into him. He crawls away from you and applies pressure onto his wound, howling in pain.
He looks at you again, hurt and confusion clear on his face. He reaches for you, calling for you in between coughing fits and cries of pain.
You empty the last bullet into his shoulder, sending him backward.
There’s a ringing in your ear that drowns out the sirens in the distance. You don’t know who managed to call them but you’re thankful to end this nightmare. You’re still holding the gun out but it only takes you a second to realize you’re screaming. Absolute guttural and gut-wrenching wailing.
When they arrive, the paramedics have to sedate you to calm you down. Jessie is taken in the ambulance while an officer tries to get you out of the house while you’re still conscious. Kurt’s body lays limp in a pool of red, his hand still reaching and glazed eyes staring back at you.
It haunts you.
“People like Kurt needed a partner. We believe he was targeting Ms. Adams previously before his attention turned to you. Do you know why that is?”
You lie. “No.”
It’s easy to say you never knew his intentions. They were spur of the moment decisions. Everything was chance. You can't explain yourself or Kurt’s psyche to her, there’s no easy way to do it.
She sighs. “Listen, whatever good you think you saw in him, whatever ramble about the real world you think you understood - was never there.”
Her words should make you feel better, comfort you in the fact that you developing some sort of twisted attachment with your kidnapper wasn’t your fault. You don’t know how to feel, you just feel...empty.
“It doesn’t matter now.” You shrug.
“You said Kurt told you something before he died. What was it?”
You let your heavy eyes close in exhaustion. You don’t remember why you told them that, but it must’ve slipped out in questioning.
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”
Unsure if she believes you or not but knowing there’s nothing else to keep you here, she dismisses you. You trudge out of the interrogation room and out of the station into the cold. You don’t bother with ordering a ride, it’s been ruined for you.
Instead you walk it home, feeling yourself go into autopilot. You think you see his face in every driver that passes you.
You’re sure you look catatonic to people but you don’t care. You just want to rest.
As soon as you’re home you slip into the bathroom, turn on the shower until it’s steaming and let everything out.
In the weeks that follow, you and Jessie are thrown into the stratosphere of fame. While she’s more content with her newfound trajectory and takes advantage of it, you decline every interview and prying noses that ask you to explain your relationship with Kurt. It’s all part of their circle jerk of tragedy, milking the victims for information and glamour.
Kurt’s regarded as a loser by those who are saner than he was and a god by those on the internet. You’re not entirely surprised.
You think it’s all over when months pass without incident until one day your friends send you a link to something on Reddit, which you don’t think twice about.
You regret it as soon as you see Kurt’s face in the thumbnail. Someone took all the footage from that night and was going to broadcast it later to show off their own documentary.
You don’t use social media anymore.
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Spellbinding (Chapter Five)
Summary: After a flirtatious sparring session with Loki and a troubling encounter with Peter Parker, (Y/N) confronts Tony and struggles to control her magic around the billionaire.
Pairing: Loki X Reader
Word Count: 5.3k
Warnings/Disclaimers: None
A/N: I hope that you enjoy!
Chapter Five
June 10th, 2015
Avengers Tower, New York City
(Previous Chapter)
The sound of the arrow hitting the edge of the bullseye was overshadowed by the loud applause filling the cavernous weapons training room. Grinning triumphantly, (Y/N) lowered her bow and headed over to the two figures standing near the doorway.
“Nice job, (Y/L/N)! You’re comin’ along pretty good!” Clint patted her on the back, a playful smirk on his face. “Not as good as me, obviously, but pretty good.”
Natasha gave him a small shove. “Clint, be nice!” He only giggled to himself and she gave (Y/N) a kind smile. “You’re doing really well, (Y/N). Maybe you could replace this idiot as the team’s resident archer someday.” Over the past couple of months, the two women had slowly gotten to know one another; Natasha was almost always away on missions but whenever she was free, they bonded over their training sessions and their statuses as the only female Avengers on the team.
(Y/N) chuckled. “That’s okay, I’ll let Hawkeye here keep his job; besides, I have a feeling I’ll be even more comfortable with a sword than a bow.” She set her bow back on the weapons rack and picked up a familiar blade. The hilt was decorated with intricately designed etchings, and it felt perfectly balanced in her hand; Loki, with Bruce’s help, had created it for her in the lab, explaining that it would be better to learn swordsmanship with a well-matched blade and that it would be easier to create one rather than search for the perfect fit. It really does feel natural, she thought with a smile, easily twirling the sword around in her hand. “Do either of you know when Loki’s coming down for practice?”
“Nope, haven’t seen him since breakfast.” Checking his watch, Clint’s eyes widened almost comically. “Shit, we’re late for that meeting, Tasha, Fury’s gonna kick our asses! We’ll see you later, (Y/L/N)!” He grabbed Natasha’s arm and began dragging her out of the room.
“Good luck with your first sword fighting lesson, (Y/N)!” Natasha called over her shoulder as she and Clint left and sprinted down the hall, desperate not to be reprimanded by Director Fury yet again. “Ow, quit trying to pull my arm out of its socket, asshat!”
Giggling, (Y/N) wandered around the room and occasionally swung her sword, silently enjoying the sounds it made as it cut through the air. She was excited when Loki and Steve told her she’d begin training with a bow and sword; she’d never told anyone before, but guns made her nervous and she was glad she’d never have to use one. And she couldn’t help but feel that learning to use the weapons of her mother’s culture would bring her closer to her somehow, but she was too embarrassed to say it aloud. The others might scoff at her sentimentality, but she knew that Loki would never do that.
At the thought of her best friend, she sighed in frustration and began pacing around the room with more purpose. It was becoming harder and harder to suppress her feelings for him, especially after he helped her through that horrible day two weeks prior, but she was determined not to lose the fight for their friendship. Shifting his focus from romantic literature to mystery novels certainly helped; it was easier to set her feelings aside as he read aloud from novels such as The Hound of Baskerville than when he read aloud from ones like Sense and Sensibility. Maybe I should have him read Mary Shelly next, she thought with an amused smile, that’ll really calm the romantic thoughts.
But just as she reached the opposite side of the room, an unsettling feeling put her senses on high alert. Quickly spinning around, she brought her sword up just in time to meet her attacker’s blade with a reverberating clang.
“Your senses are improving, Lady (Y/N),” Loki grinned, pushing her blade away with his own and stepping back. “I’m impressed.”
Before she could reply, he swung his sword at her abdomen and she was quick to clumsily swipe the attack away and block his next from clipping her shoulder. “I thought we were having a formal lesson today?”
Her best friend shrugged as they started to circle one another. “We were, but I concluded that unlike magic, swordplay doesn’t need to be taught formally. You have generations of Light Elf blood flowing through your veins, which means that you already possess a natural skill with swords; besides, I feel that using weapons takes considerably less concentration and caution that using magic.”
“Oh, I don’t know, if I wasn’t concentrating right now I’d never realize that you’re only trying to distract me.” She suddenly raised her sword and swung, but Loki disappeared as soon as the blade made contact with his; a heartbeat later, the cool edge of a training knife was at her throat and a sword-wielding arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her securely against a strong form. “Clever, Loki…”
“My brother isn’t the only Asgardian-trained warrior in this tower, you know.” His warm breath tickled the side of her neck, and (Y/N) swore she could feel his nose nuzzle into her hair while her heart fluttered in her chest. “Now, try and break free of-”
Before he could finish his sentence, she elbowed him hard in the stomach and used his surprise to duck under his loosened arm, quickly straightening and parring away his fast sword strike. “You mean like that?”
“Precisely,” Loki sheathed the dagger and twirled his sword in his hand, an amused gleam in his green eyes. “Now, let’s see what else you can do.”
For the next half hour, they were at a stalemate; neither of them had been able to disarm or knock the other down, no matter how hard they tried, but (Y/N) knew she was tiring. Her strikes were becoming slower, it was becoming much harder to dodge his attacks, and she had a nasty feeling that Loki would quickly take advantage of her weakness at any minute. In desperation, she parried his sword away and swung hers at his head, but she immediately regretted her action; Loki easily blocked the strike and used his sword to twist hers out of her hand. It landed on the ground with a loud clang, and before she could reach for it, he kicked her leg out from under her and she landed harshly on her back. A moment later, he was hovering above her, one hand pinning both of hers above her head and the other holding his sword to her throat. The sounds of their heavy breathing filled the silence of the room, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle in equal amounts of amusement and embarrassment.
“Well, it looks as though you’ve won fair and square, Loki. I’d shake your hand, but they’re a little preoccupied at the moment.”
Loki’s triumphant grin widened at her joke. “Your apology is accepted, Lady (Y/N), though I personally prefer your hands right where they are.” When she gave him a questioning look, he continued. “Now I can finally enact my revenge upon you for your heinous crime. You know which one, of course.”
(Y/N)’s eyes widened and she began struggling against him. “L-Loki, I told you, it was a complete accident, Steve and Bucky were there, they’ll tell you the exact same thing…!”
“I’m not quite sure that I believe your story; you’re telling me that the other day at dinner, you accidentally tripped over Steve’s foot, you accidentally fell on me and you accidentally began tickling me? You have to admit, it doesn’t sound very convincing.”
She tried in vain not to smile guiltily as he spoke. The truth was that she was curious whether the Asgardian was ticklish or not, so when she noticed Steve’s foot sticking out from under the table she decided to test out her theory. It turned out that the Asgardian did make the same sounds as the Pillsbury Dough-Boy when tickled, just as she suspected. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Loki!”
“Lady (Y/N), you should know by now not to lie to the God of Mischief.”
In one quick movement, he tossed his sword to the side and attacked her stomach with his free hand. She shrieked with laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks as she squirmed under him. She felt his hold on her wrists loosening, so she hurriedly tugged a hand free and began tickling him back. As expected, he laughed loudly, the cheerful sound mingling with hers and echoing off the walls as they rolled across the floor.
“Miss (Y/L/N), is something-? Oh man…”
They immediately stopped, Loki quickly rolling off her and helping her back on her feet when they noticed a familiar figure standing in the doorway. “Hello Peter, um, Loki and I were just…practicing our sword fighting.” (Y/N) blushed scarlet, embarrassed at having been caught in such a compromising position by the fifteen-year-old.
“Yeah, um…sorry if I interrupted you guys, I’ll…just…come back later, I guess.” Peter Parker’s eyes were flicking nervously between her and his black Converse sneakers, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans and a light blush spreading over his ears.
“Actually, I need to…I need to speak to my brother about our, um, mission tomorrow. I’ll see you later, Lady (Y/N).” After she murmured her goodbye, he gave Peter a nod as he brushed past him and left, his usually pale face turning more and more crimson by the minute.
(Y/N) picked up their swords and placed them back on the weapons rack. “So, what can I do for you, Peter?” During her two months in the tower, she’d only spoken to the teenager once and that was when Tony briefly introduced them; the billionaire had infuriatingly introduced her as ‘Galadriel, but if Galadriel was a total book nerd,’ something he was extremely lucky he said when Loki wasn’t around to hear. The teenager was in awe of her magic and heritage, and she was equally impressed with his incredible knowledge of math and science and how he applied his skills to his intriguing powers.
Peter shuffled from foot to foot and briefly made eye contact with her. “Well, I-I was just talkin’ with Doctor Banner and he mentioned you used to be a librarian before joining the Avengers, and…I was wondering if you could help me write my final paper for my English class?”
“Of course, I’d love to!” She led him out of the weapons room and down the hall to the elevator. “What’s the topic of the paper?”
They stepped into the elevator. “That’s actually what I’m having trouble with. We were supposed to read The Great Gatsby, but I never got a chance to, and now we have to come up with our own topic and finish the essay by Friday, and I’ve got absolutely nothin’.” He sighed and slumped against the wall of the elevator as it rose. “I understand if you’re too busy training for a mission or something, I know it’s a lot to ask but it’s worth like twenty-five percent of my final grade…”
“It’s okay, Peter, I said I’d help you; I haven’t been assigned a mission yet, so my schedule’s wide open.” The doors opened and she led him down the hall to the dining room table next to the kitchen. “Besides, I loved helping people with papers when I was a librarian, and it’ll be nice to continue using that college degree I paid a lot of money for.” Peter laughed and sat down next to her. “All right, since you haven’t read the book and you only have two days to write this essay, I’ll start by giving you a short summary…”
(Y/N) had absolutely no idea how long she spoke for; explaining the plot of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s most famous novel reminded her of how much she missed being a librarian. Not that she regretted joining the Avengers, of course, she just missed being able to use her extensive knowledge of literature to help people. She was glad to see Peter listening with rapt attention, and he even pulled a notebook out of his backpack and began taking notes while she continued. By the time she was finished, he was looking more relaxed than ever.
“Thank you so much, Miss (Y/L/N), that really helped!” He flicked through his notes one last time before turning to a blank page. “I think I’ll write about Daisy; she sounds like a pretty interesting character.”
“You’re welcome, Peter, but promise me you’ll try not to procrastinate next semester? It’s just that it’s so much easier to finish assignments well before the due date…”
Peter grinned. “I know, I know, Aunt May always tells me that! And I didn’t mean to procrastinate this much, it’s just that I suck at English and me and Mister Stark have been workin’ on my new suit a lot and, well, I guess I just got distracted.”
She smiled, but the wheels in her head began turning. “It’s okay, everyone has that one subject they struggle with and everyone gets distracted from time to time. I’m going to go get cleaned up and change, and I expect to see an introduction written by the time I get back, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am!” He chuckled and turned his attention back to his notebook.
(Y/N) took a quick shower and changed into a pair of jeans and a green blouse, quickly toweling off her damp hair before hurrying down to the lab. Just as she suspected, Tony was there, snacking and chatting away with Bruce as the doctor peered into a microscope. Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) opened the door and entered.
“Hello Bruce, Tony.”
“Oh, hi (Y/N),” Bruce looked up and smiled, whereas Tony only rolled his eyes and continued eating his blueberries. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m actually here to speak with Tony, if that’s all right,” Both men looked at each other in surprise and she turned her attention to the billionaire as Bruce quietly excused himself. “Tony, I know that we got off on the wrong foot when we met and I’m not going to apologize for turning you down when you asked me out, but I am sorry if I’ve been rude to you ever since.”
Tony sighed, popping another blueberry into his mouth before answering. “Well, I’d be an asshat if I didn’t try and follow that up, so I’m sorry for being rude too. Now that that’s over, can we get back to work?”
(Y/N) gritted her teeth but remained calm. “That’s not all I came down here for; I just spent over an hour helping Peter write a final paper for school that’s due in two days. He told me that the reason he didn’t write it sooner was because he’s been too busy working on his new suit down here with you. Is that true?”
“Yeah, so what’s your point?”
“My point is that since Peter listens to you, you should remind him that his education is very important. If he continues putting Spider-Man before his schoolwork, he’s not going to have a future.”
The older man only sighed. “Of course he will; when he decides he doesn’t wanna be Spider-Man, he can always have a job at Stark Enterprises.”
“And what if he doesn’t want a job with your company? What if he decided down the road that he wants to be a lawyer or a firefighter or a photographer? Without an education, he’d never be able to live the life he wants!” Realizing that she was speaking loudly, she took another deep breath and adjusted her glasses. “Tony, all I’m asking you to do is help him be a normal high schooler for as long as possible. I’m not saying you should take his suit away and forbid him from being Spider-Man next semester, just…let him be able to study for tests or hang out with his friends or go out on dates. Just try to help him find the balance his duties between being a high schooler and being Spider-Man.”
Tony only raised his brow and smirked. “Why’re you being so pushy about this, Hermione Granger? Is it ‘cause you’re trying to live vicariously through him? Let him experience the things that you never did?”
(Y/N) felt her anger beginning to build up inside her. “This has absolutely nothing to do with me, Tony, this is about making sure you don’t ruin his life in the long run. Need I remind you that not everyone is as privileged as you are and can make mistakes in life without there being consequences?”
“And need I remind you that if not for my ‘privileges,’ there’d be no Avengers and you’d be stuck in a Hydra lab somewhere being experimented on?”
“Are you going to talk to him or not?”
Tony shook his head, an unusually serious look on his face. “Parker can do whatever he wants to do. It’s his life.”
She nodded, her jaw clenched tightly. “Fine, then, I’ll go and speak to Steve about it.” Giving the man one last glare, she turned on her heel and headed for the door.
“You know, you’re starting to sound exactly like your boyfriend did when he tried to take over the world. Must be an alien thing…”
Without a moment of thought, (Y/N) turned around and thrust out her hands, her anger finally boiling over. A familiar purple aura surrounded Tony as she used her powers to swiftly lift him into the air and slam him into the wall behind him. Her unfiltered fury kept him in place, and she was sure to keep his mouth magically shut so he was unable to call out to J.A.R.V.I.S. for his suit. “Don’t you dare speak about Loki! He’s doing everything he can to make up for what he did, and maybe if you started caring about other people besides yourself you’d realize that!”
“(Y/N)!” Bruce appeared in front of her after running in from the hall, his hands raised in a submissive gesture. “(Y/N), you need to listen to me!” When she made no move to attack him, he slowly inched forward. “I need you to breathe, can you do that for me, (Y/N)? Take a deep breath and just relax, find control over your powers!”
(Y/N) struggled to control her breathing as she listened to his words, but just when she felt her muscles and powers begin to relax, Tony stretched his fingers and pressed a button on the metal bracelet he wore. One of his security suits burst through its storage container and aimed its repulsor beams at her; without a second thought, she allowed Tony to fall to the ground in a heap and thrust her hands towards the suit, effectively knocking it into the opposite wall with a swirling cloud of purple magic before it could fire. The suit immediately got up and just as Bruce shouted “No!” it shot its repulsor beams directly at her. Acting on instinct, she pushed Bruce out of the way and crossed her forearms in front of her, deflecting the beams and making them ricochet off her magic and back towards the suit, causing it to explode in a ball of fire.
The entire room shook violently with tremors and the ceiling began to tremble; panicking, (Y/N) thrust her hands upwards and concentrated on stabilizing the concrete with her magic. After a tense moment, the ceiling tremors began to calm down and stop altogether, which was when she realized that the emergency sprinklers were on and the lab was filling up with dark smoke as the fire alarms blared. Where’s Tony and Bruce, she thought, coughing as she stumbled through the wrecked lab in search of the two men.
“Bruce! Tony!” She called out, her voice shaking with worry. “Bruce! To-!” A hand on her arm caused her to turn and gasp; standing before her was a soaked and worried but unharmed Bruce Banner. “Bruce, thank goodness you’re all right!”
“C’mon, I already got Tony, we need to get out of here!” Bruce grabbed her hand and quickly led her through the smoke and smoldering remains of Tony’s suit to the exit. When they finally got out of the lab, the doctor slammed the door behind them and leaned heavily against the wall. It was then when (Y/N) noticed that Tony was laying on the ground, his chest heaving as his eyes stayed focused on the ceiling, and that there was a distinct green tinge to Bruce’s jugular that was slowly fading away.
“Thank you, Bruce.”
“…Fury’s gonna be pissed, isn’t he?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Director Fury looked up from the security footage on his computer monitor with a disapproving frown on his face. After rushing up to the lab and having them thoroughly checked for injuries, Director Fury ‘requested’ (Y/N), Bruce and Tony join him in his office several floors below; (Y/N), who had only ever spoken to the director once before when she first joined the Avengers, was scared out of her mind, something she was sure Bruce knew when he gave her hand a comforting squeeze. She felt guilty that she lost control over her powers and scared of what her punishment would be; she didn’t want to be kicked off the Avengers team all because she’d risen to Tony’s childish bait. I wish Loki were here, she thought as she pulled the blanket the firemen had given her tighter around her shoulders for comfort.
“So, you’re telling me that several S.H.I.E.L.D experiments were compromised, thousands of dollars’ worth of our equipment was destroyed, the Hulk was nearly unleashed and an entire floor of your tower is temporarily condemned all because you couldn’t put a sock in it, Stark?”
Tony smirked. “Sounds about right.”
Deciding she needed to speak up for the billionaire, (Y/N) quietly said, “It’s not all his fault, Director. I went to the lab and asked Tony to speak to Peter about how important his schoolwork is when I should’ve spoken directly to Steve instead. And it was me who lost control and destroyed the lab in the first place, not him.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Miss (Y/L/N), but I’m not pissed off about you losing your cool or even about you two destroying the lab; I’m pissed off because your guys’ petty arguing’s keeping you all from functioning as the team I believe you can be.” Director Fury stood and leaned against his desk. “Now, Doctor Banner and I are gonna leave to check in with the clean-up, and if this stupid-ass fighting isn’t resolved by the time we come back…well, let’s just say that you’re not gonna like the consequences.” The director gave them one last glare and gestured for Bruce to follow him into the hall; the doctor flashed them a sympathetic look before leaving, and (Y/N) flinched as the door slammed shut.
The billionaire lounged casually in his chair, twirling a small screwdriver around his fingers over and over as he made fleeting eye contact with her; he looked sincerer than she’d ever seen him before. “I, ah, guess I should apologize…I’ve been treating you kind of unfairly over the past few months and saying some harsh things, and I’m really sorry about that…”
“Then why say them in the first place?”
His fingers stilled as he looked down at them, remaining silent for several moments before answering. “I guess it’s ‘cause I didn’t like the fact that you’re such good friends with Reindeer G – I mean – Loki.”
His answer took her by surprise. “Why not?”
The older man looked out the window and smiled humorlessly. “Well, for starters, the guy tried to take over the world with a hostile alien army and is responsible for the deaths of at least eighty people over two days, not to mention he threw me out a window and I…well, my heart stopped when I came out of that wormhole and I would’ve been a goner of not for the enormous green rage monster out there. Can you really blame me for not wanting to become best buddies with him or anyone who actually likes him?”
“Yes, I can, at least a little bit.” She ignored the confused look on his face and continued. “Loki’s here on Earth to make up for everything he did; he joined the Avengers, the people he was once sworn enemies with, of his own free will to do good. Loki’s my best friend and I believe wholeheartedly that he deserves a chance to redeem himself for what he’s done, just like Natasha and Bucky. Everyone else in this tower has put the past behind them and accepted him as their teammate except you, Tony. I’m sorry about what happened to you during the battle, I really am, but you can’t change what happened in the past so it’s pointless to keep hyper-focusing in it.”
“I think Capsicle’s been rubbing off on you, (Y/L/N); that was some speech,” Tony chuckled, then grew serious. “But you’re right; I haven’t given either of you a fair chance.”
(Y/N) nodded. “And I’m really sorry I lost control and said those things earlier, it was wrong of me to say them. You’re not a selfish person, Tony, and it’s unfair to degrade you because you happen to be more well-off than most, it’s not your-”
“It’s okay; seriously, I was definitely asking to be talked to like that. And don’t worry, I’ll speak to Peter about balancing being a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and a high schooler; Banner’s been bugging me about it, too.” His usual grin returned. “So, can we agree to start over and maybe be friends from now on? ‘Cause you actually seem like a pretty cool person to be around, (Y/L/N).”
“I think I can agree to that, Tony.” She accepted his outstretched hand and shook it, a cheerful smile finally making its way across her face. Not the way I expected this day to go, she thought to herself, but I’m glad we’ve finally made up.
Just then, the door opened to reveal Director Fury and Bruce. “Great, now we all can get back to work. Except for you, Miss (Y/L/N), I want a private word.” Without wasting a moment, Tony and Bruce left the two of them alone. (Y/N)’s hands began to shake, so she started tugging at the sides of her blanket again to keep them occupied. “I believe congratulations are in order, Miss (Y/L/N).”
“C-congratulations?”
Director Fury made his way over to his chair and sat. “You showed real control over your powers today.”
Frowning, (Y/N) stopped fiddling with the edge of her blanket. “But Director, I almost killed Tony, a-and what about almost unleashing the Hulk and all the damage…?”
“The key word there is ‘almost’. Sure, your emotions clouded your judgement, but you were able to reign in your powers and stop yourself from doing anything too serious.” The director’s eye twinkled slightly. “In my book, that’s something that deserves a congratulation and not guilt, Miss (Y/L/N). Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I suppose so, Director.”
Director Fury nodded. “Good. And as for the damages, Stark has more than enough money to fix them within a day, this time with even stronger fortifications. Now, you’d better go change clothes before you catch a cold; we wouldn’t want one of our newest Avengers getting sick, would we?”
Blushing, (Y/N) stood and smiled shyly at the director. “O-of course not, Director. Thank you.” She quickly left the office as he returned to the paperwork on his desk, hardly believing what had just happened; she’d been absolutely convinced that she’d be kicked off the team for her actions. It was kind of Director Fury to give me another chance, and I don’t intend on throwing it away, she thought with determination, hurrying down the hall to the elevator.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“To make a long story short, you lost control over your magic, regained control with the help of Doctor Banner before you could kill Stark, destroyed one of Stark’s suits in self-defense and stopped the ceiling from collapsing on all three of you, correct?” Loki asked, his lips already curving into a proud smile. Only minutes before, (Y/N) had found her best friend in a fit of rage and the only thing keeping him from confronting Tony himself was Mjolnir resting on his lap; the moment she entered his suite, however, he ceased arguing with Thor and immediately asked her if she was all right.
Despite her best efforts not to see too far into his actions, his obvious concern over her well-being caused her heart to flutter and her cheeks to redden, but she was quick to hide her feelings by giving him and Thor the full story of what happened; all they knew of the incident was that her and Tony’s argument led to an explosion in the lab, so Loki had immediately assumed Tony was at fault and went into a rage. Luckily Thor had enough foresight to prevent him from doing anything too serious, she thought to herself.
Nodding, (Y/N) relaxed her aching muscles against the cushions of the couch. “Correct, and Tony and I had a good talk. I think we’re going to get along from now on.”
Loki nodded, directing his attention to his brother and gesturing to the hammer. “Now, can you please remove this infernal thing from my lap? I promise I won’t go after Stark.” Although his face was relaxed, she could see a glint of anger return to his emerald-green eyes so she quickly laced her fingers through his slightly colder ones. He looked at her in surprise and the anger seemed to melt away the longer he stared into her eyes. “I swear on our friendship, Lady (Y/N), that I won’t harm Stark in any way.” He glanced back at Thor with a brow raised in expectation. “Now will you move it?”
“All right, all right, don’t get your cape in a twist, brother,” Thor chuckled, standing from his armchair and easily picking up Mjolnir. “I’ll go and see if Banner and Stark require assistance in cleaning up the laboratory. Again, I’m relieved you’re unharmed, Lady (Y/N).” He gave her what he apparently thought was a gentle pat on the shoulder and left before he could see her nearly topple off the sofa.
Rolling his eyes, Loki helped her right herself. “Such a brute, honestly.” He glanced down at their intertwined fingers as his face once again grew serious. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Well, it would be a lie if I said I didn’t feel guilty about losing control…”
To her surprise, Loki’s face broke out into a bemused grin. “You Midgardians are so odd; you pen sayings such as ‘to err is human’, and yet you always blame yourselves for your mistakes. It’s perfectly acceptable to make errors, Lady (Y/N), and you should be extremely proud of the fact that you managed to rectify yours so easily. Trust me, as someone who has fought against and alongside Doctor Banner, regaining control over oneself is no easy feat.”
“You sound exactly like Director Fury, you know, but you’re right.” (Y/N) elbowed him playfully in the side and grinned when he suppressed a giggle.
“Is it really wise of you to begin this again, Lady (Y/N)?”
“Well, it’s not like you’re brave enough to do anything ab-” She was cut off when she was struck on the side of the head by a throw pillow.
Loki burst into laughter, clutching his sides and his pillow tightly as he looked at her. “You should see your face!” He choked out between breaths. “You look like-!”
At that moment, (Y/N) grabbed another pillow and smacked it against his face, giggling at his stunned expression and mussed hair as she adjusted her crooked glasses. “You were saying?”
“Um, Miss (Y/L/N)?” They both hastily lowered their raised pillows and looked at the doorway where Peter Parker stood, once again as red as a tomato, holding his notebook. “I-I, um, need some help on my body paragraphs…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk
Chapter Six
Spellbinding Masterlist
Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular @itscomplicatedx @0-artemis @vivloki
#loki x reader#loki odinson x reader#loki laufeyson x reader#loki#loki odinson#natasha romanoff#black widow#clint barton#hawkeye#peter parker#spiderman#tony stark#iron man#bruce banner#hulk#nick fury#director fury#thor odinson#marvel cinematic universe
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AT ODDS 6 (Kal Skirata x F!OC)
Summary: Tea gets spilled at Kyrimorut. Ordo gets involved. Ori makes a choice and a new enemy.
Warnings: Mando profanity, pregnancy, SPOILERS for Republic Commando books (all but the last one), medical shit, surgery, fucking SADS
As always, so many thanks to @detroitbydark who lets me screech about my weird fic and Kal and Ori! Also this is barely edited be kind, I’m on my psych rotation and barely scraping by.
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Kal realizes he’s slipped the figurine into the pocket of his bodysuit semi-consciously in his hasty retreat from the apartment. Knotted Jonah wood whittled smooth forms two stylized figures, one large and one small, their hands joined between them.
He barely registers the ride back home and comming Mij. They need a plan, and they need one fast if they are going to find her. He knows little about how the Empire treats their prisoners compared to the late Republic, but he isn’t about to have any illusions of honor or fair play. After all, he doesn’t play fair himself. But there’s a hydrospanner thrown into the mix. What he doesn’t know is how the Imps treat prisoners with … unique health conditions. Or if they even give half a bantha’s shebs. Odds are they send men and women alike to those osik’la camps he’s gotten word of. Yeah, the Empire was equal opportunity like that.
If Mereel can’t slice into the system remotely, they were going to have to do an old-fashioned infiltration. He’d ask his ad’ike if they were up to task, there’s no way he could ask to put them in danger, not after the entirety of their lives being war. It hurts him to even think about asking. But he has to do this, even if it’s just his sorry shebs.
He tries to put on a good Sabaac face when he’s back in the karyai, discreetly gathering up all the surplus weapons they have that he finds might be useful for an infiltration into a heavily armed and fortified position.
Mereel of course, catches on within minutes.
“You’re going to find her,” Mereel interrupts. Kal yanks his head up out of the gun locker to look at his son. “And you didn’t even think to ask for backup?”
His son’s tone is accusing, edging on hurt. That he did not expect.
“It’s my fuckup, son,” he replies, “I’m the one who needs to fix it. I can’t ask you to do this.”
“What’s so special about this doctor?” Mereel slams the door of the locker shut. It’s obvious his ad’ika is protective. They all are.
“She delivered your ba’vodu’ad, Mereel. I’m pretty sure she saved Parja’s life.” Kal says, keeping his eyes on his work, cleaning the weapons, arranging the ammo he needs. Sharpening his father’s three-sided knife.
“And that’s enough to go up against the Empire? ”
He’s going to have to spit it out. Mereel is looking at him expectantly, sure that he’s going to change his mind, see reason.
“She’s pregnant, son.” Mereel, who has been away for the events of the last few months, just stares back at him in a puzzled fashion, brows slightly furrowed. Looking at him like he’s lost his damn mind. Maybe he has.
“It’s yours, isn’t it?”
In comes a second voice, and the accusatory tone startles him enough that, when added to his baseline urgency and anxiety, causes his hand to slip and nick itself as he sharpens his knife.
“Osik,” he hisses, holding pressure to the cut as blood wells, looking up to the figure in the doorway. Ordo. Mereel stares at his brother, unsure whether he is joking. Kal sighs. He should know better, trying to keep things from them. The last time he was successful at that was when they were four.
“Does it matter?”
“Maybe,” Ordo replies, just this edge of indignant, “is she carrying my vod?”
A strange and protective piece of him flares at Ordo’s tone and Kal stands, still holding the cloth to his cut hand.
“Most likely.”
“Then we need to get her back.” Ordo meets his eye finally and Kal nods, satisfied, and starts gathering ammo from the safes. This time Mereel moves to help, still in a rare state of stunned silence.
By the time they’ve gathered what they need and loaded it into aayhan, Mereel has a willing team assembled and what they know of the building schematics up on a datapad in the karyai. Fortunately for them, the team won’t be breaking into any prison blocks, which are bound to be heavily guarded.
“All we have to do is get into the information security room that houses the main terminal,” Mereel starts confidently. “We can stay far away from the security blocks and the bucketheads.”
“Though it would be fun to bust some vode out of there,” Scorch adds.
“Not our mission,” says Mereel, regret plain in his voice, “we’ll have to get them another time.” The realization that they were leaving prisoners at the mercy of the empire sobers the group even more. It was becoming more and more apparent that more planning was needed before they could root out the Empire on Mandalore. Meanwhile, Kal had set Uthan to the task of trying desperately to make their own homebrew vaccine.
---
It’s been many many years since he’s fastroped. Lately, he has been finding that it’s been years since he’s done many things. Fastroping, underwater diving...fathering kriffing kids. He swallows, hard and regroups himself. Every single one of them needs to be focused if they’re gonna pull this job off.
Yes, he’s fast roped before. But he’s never liked it. Where his sons get twitchy when confined to tight spaces, he finds himself sweating more than usual under his beskar the more stories they climb. Right now, they’re about ten stories up, far above the sensors of the garrison and way above his tolerance for heights. They have about a minute to pull this off before the Imps realize this transport is lingering too long in their airspace.
Mereel, Sev, Scorch, and Kal are in Aayhan, hovering silently above the Keldabe imperial garrison in the inky black late summer night. The humidity sticks his tactical garments to his skin, making it itch and crawl in addition to his surging adrenaline. That was one thing that never changed, no matter how old he got, no matter how many missions he’s finished - that nauseating spike of pure fear and bliss.
He gives the signal to move move move and soon he’s roping down, strong north Mandalorian wind whipping around him, soaking through his underlayer. The four of them land silently on the roof of the compound, and Scorch starts laying a strip charge along the floor to create a hole leading below, straight into the admin offices. Four sets of Mando armor gleam lowly in the moonlight. It’s a perfect night for an op like this, whipping wind obscuring any slight noise they did make and the faint whine of aayhan’s engines. The charges detonate with a controlled bang and flash of bright light that briefly blinds his HUD. Kal switches to night vision.
*His child*. It’s barely a concrete concept in his mind yet, but an instinctual piece of him knows the truth. The timing is too perfect for him to be wrong. The way Orla had looked at him in the med center…
The stakes are too high to fail, and distracting thoughts get men killed. Mereel leads the way through the door, rifle at the ready, and Kal banishes his musings to the back of his mind, pushed away by a fresh rush of adrenaline. It’s a stealth mission, and they navigate by night vision, as silently as their boots will allow.
They stalk through dark quiet hallways lined with innocuous office doors until they reach the end, what is presumably the CO’s office, with its durasteel double doors and obviously larger size.
Mereel starts in on slicing the door panel while Sev shoots out the camera in the hallway corner while the rest of them listen for any approaching patrols. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed they were there, whether it was the hole in the roof or the blacked out camera. The double doors open quietly and they head inside. Vau’s boys guard the door while he and Mereel crowd the desk in the middle of the room.
“I need a few minutes to get into this,” Mereel says, eyes locked onto the screen before him. One of his slicing tools is between his teeth.
“You’ll get it, son. We’ll take care of anything that tries to get in our way.”
So far it looks like no one has noticed them. The imps must really be confident in the plan to neutralize Mandalore with so few guards and patrols. Sweat drops trickle down the back of his neck and into his bodysuit.
Mereel studies the datapad stripping the system for a few more moments and turns it towards Kal. There’s a concerned look stretched across his handsome face. Together the watch the recorded scene on the screen before them.
There’s Orla, still in her work clothes, talking with an Imp who’s behind this very desk, flanked by two stormtroopers. He knows those gestures - she’s spitting mad, barely containing the fury that was directed toward the man behind the desk. Without audio he can only guess as to the contents of their conversation. The Imp behind the desk gives a short reply and nods curtly to the right-hand trooper who, without hesitation, raises his blaster rifle and cracks her across the face with the butt end. She doesn’t even see it coming. Even in the shades of blue from the holoprojector the blood is obvious, trickling down the side of her face.
Kal is livid, trembling so finely it’s barely visible, and he almost forgets where they are for a moment. Deep in enemy territory, with hostiles incoming any minute.
Mereel makes a disgusted noise from deep in his chest as they watch her be pushed to the ground. They follow the video feed where she’s led to a cell. His breath catches. There’s a chance she’s still here. His hope is tempered, however, when an alarm starts to sound from within the garrison. A patrol must have finally found their breach point.
“Sarge?” warns a voice from outside the door. It’s Sev, by the gravelly tone.
“Almost finished,” he shouts, over the screeching din. Mereel continues to work furiously, his bulk hunched over the console. He’s able to parse through incredible amounts of data with immense precision; Kal can practically feel the concentration rolling off him.
“Wait,” Mereel says. Kal looks over at the screen. They’re centered on a video feed again, this time outside. The sheer amount of prisoners in line for the transport is shocking enough, but the fact that none of them are in armor is even more appalling. The Imps are slowly stripping their culture away, plate by plate.
“She’s not on the manifest for this transport, even though the records say she leaves.”
It doesn’t make sense. Unless… Kal knows Mereel must be thinking the same as him. Judging by the brutality of the footage they’ve watched, the stories from around the planet, he wouldn’t put it past the Empire to take care of a pesky problem in the easiest way they knew how. It wasn’t something that supposedly peaceful, orderly governments liked to keep records of. His dread and guilt intensifies, leadening his limbs already weighed down by heavy beskar.
He chokes the words out. He has to know. “Is there any footage of…” Kal can’t bring himself to say them. It doesn’t need to be said, Mereel knows what he’s looking for. He’s been in a war zone long enough to know that armies aren’t sentimental.
“No, no footage. Just them leading her away.” The alarm continues to blare. It could be minutes, seconds before they have to blast their way out.
“Here.”
Kal steels himself to watch. It’s his fault, he reminds himself again. Two more fresh marks in his ledger. His arm reaches automatically to his son’s to steady himself. He feels Mereel’s slump ever so slightly, whether it’s in relief or defeat, he can’t tell.
“I have what I need,” he says, “time to go. Debrief can wait for later.” Distant footsteps start to echo towards them, modulated shouts following close behind. They were about to be grossly outnumbered, by the sound of it. Kal shoves his helmet back on, heading through the doorway and signaling Sev and Scorch to follow.
They wind through the garrison, avoiding both patrols and squads of stormtroopers sweeping the building. It’s laughably easy compared some of the other heists they’ve pulled - except he speaks too soon. As they make their way out of the back door of the garrison onto the Keldabe streets, one squad catches up to them. Ordo has aayhan back at Kyrimorut - earlier they had decided it was too risky for the four of them to fly home and possibly expose the homestead. So instead their plan was to run the winding streets and strategically borrow a transport. The problem is that Kal is pushing sixty and the other men are - physiologically at least - still in their early twenties. They’re a lot kriffing faster than him, even with his ankle fixed.
The streets and alleys twist and turn, switching from ancient cobbles to smooth duracrete without warning. Easy enough to get lost if you’re a local, they are impossible to navigate as aruettiise. Soon the four are panting, ducked into an alcove off a cobbled alley. Finally, it seems they’ve dodged the patrol. Only time will tell if they were recognized. Kal finds he doesn’t much mind if they know his face. In fact, he hopes they do. He wants to meet that garrison officer.
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Imperial Rehabilitation Center
Weeks later
19 BBY
Life isn’t all doom and gloom. They are kept...occupied. Like rats in a maze. Ori shares a bunk with another Mandalorian, the only other there. Taren is a kid really, small and slight except for her distended belly. It’s obvious she’s used to wearing armor by the way she walks, how upright she holds herself, arms swaying slightly away from her body. And how she closes in on herself when she realizes it’s not there, when it’s nighttime in their room and thinks Ori can’t hear her sob breathlessly into her pillow every night.
It’s almost childish, the way they’re herded from room to room. Chaperoned and on a schedule, like one would handle a naughty child needing extra discipline. It was how she imagines Coruscanti boarding schools some of her medical school classmates attended - polished stone floors and crisp uniforms, all strict routines and synchronized repetition. It’s meant to numb the mind, making days run into weeks. She suspects they’re kept intentionally disoriented. After all, most of them are still political prisoners, and many she’s found have important connections on their respective homeworlds.
They’re at lunch, scattered around their assigned tables. Generously, they are allowed to converse during meals, though their seats remain assigned. The ‘rehab center’ has proven to be much more expansive than she expected - some rooms are swallowingly large, like the one she is in now, and some are as small as a broom closet, connected by narrow winding hallways. The building itself could have been any number of things in a past life - a school, factory, or prison. She supposes it doesn’t matter much now. Today there’s a newcomer, sitting quiet and sullen at a back table with the Corellians. Time would tell if she was one of them or if she hailed from a different world.
An arm jostles her, hitting her square in the ribs. It successfully knocks her out of her analysis of the newcomer.
“-did you hear what I just said?” Taren says, mouth full of tasteless nutritional paste. It’s far from delicious, but you ate what they give out and she is hungry *all the time* nowadays. A fleck lands on Ori’s face and she wipes it away with a raised eyebrow.
“Sorry, al’verde.” Commander. Her eyes roll automatically. She knows she doesn’t deserve the title. Discreetly, Ori shushes the younger woman - they’re lucky the stormtroopers here don’t understand Mando’a.
They put together kit for new stormtroopers, morning and night. It’s another endurable humiliation. She stabs at the cubes bitterly with her spoon, scattering crumbs across the table. They’re not allowed forks or knives, not after Taren’s first week. A tiny smile flits across her face as she thinks on the memory.
Ori feels like a geriatric compared to the spry warrior, though they’re less than ten years apart in age. She’s seen things in that time, lost people, buried dreams. Though Taren is looking older and older by the day, cooped up in this place.
“Theera is gone,” Taren says, “she wasn’t at breakfast either.”
Looking around and finding no sign of the woman, Ori hums an agreement. She’ll be gone for good soon, and her baby as well. Every time someone delivers it sends a sense of unshakeable dread down her spine and into the pit of her stomach. All of them are marching slowly towards that finish line.
The artificial hierarchy into which they are forced has made the two Mandalorians de facto leaders, despite Ori being one of the newer inmates and to cement her as *alverde*; her medical expertise makes her invaluable.
The room hushes as Dr. Loesch sweeps down to the cafeteria, all business in crisp grey scrubs, so confident in his admiration. He insists they call him ‘Doctor L’ like he’s a popular lecturer at a university. He’s the worst kind of hut’uun, just as bad as the rest of the Imps she’s met here. Loesch is in charge of their medical care, all 100-some of them, including herself. Loesch towers over most of them, even herself.
As a physician, Ori is personally insulted at his complacency, the fact that he is perfectly content in his post and cemented in his belief that what he was doing is just, his complicity. She stabs at her cubes some more to try and make herself feel better.
As a woman, she’s decidedly less surprised. Men like him are everywhere, tall and handsome, handed success on a silver platter, born into families of privilege and power. Taking and taking with no thought of the carnage they leave behind.
He saunters his way over to their table and sits with a charming smile.
“Beviin,” he starts, “I heard through the gossip chain that you were an obstetrician before you came here?”
It’s physically painful to keep her retort in hand. She’s been here long enough to see women sent to solitary. And to see them come back, changed indefinitely.
“Mmm,” she mumbles affirmatively through a mouthful of cubes. She swallows. “Yes.” Keep it simple, that’s easy enough.
He smiles sardonically. “How ironic,” he adds, obviously pleased with the revelation. Expectantly, he looks around the table to gauge his joke, and they catch on, laughing softly, nervously, afraid of what might happen if they don’t. Even Ori joins in, the butt of the low blow, though her simmering rage ratchets up another level.
They finish the rest of their lunch largely in silence and Loesch pulls her away when she files out with the others.
“Ms. Beviin,” he says conspiratorially, “I know it must be difficult for you to be here.”
The man over her, face too close for comfort, his voice deep and low. Alarm fills her as the other people in the room dwindle until it’s just the two of them and the scattered troopers on the upper level. All Ori can think about is where the nearest exit is located when she realizes he’s still speaking to her.
“...what do you think?” He waits patiently, a benevolent expression in his face. He blinks too little, she thinks, and his eyes are devoid of expression, shining with an amused sort of malevolence. They’re a strange shade of brown...no, green? The little noise he makes in the back of his throat brings her back to their conversation.
“Ah...sure?” she replies weakly, stunned and frozen.
“That’ll be nice for the other inmates,” he says. Incredibly white, straight teeth flash as he smiles down at her. “I think it will give them comfort to have you there. I’ll have the guards collect you when it’s time.”
——
Three nurses eye her from across the suite. They wear sweet matching hospital uniforms, in the same soft fabric as hers except in a delicate petal pink. With a pang, she misses her fellow nurses and doctors on Mandalore. Who knows how many had fallen ill? Been arrested? The way they clustered in a little group reminded her of her schoolmates, when they found out she didn’t like fighting, whispering rumors from across the room. That she thought she was better than them, that weird girl who was more concerned with grades than winning fights and impressing boys. Now they stand across the room from her like a little bunch of flowers in their coordinated outfits, identical and perfect. She’s an other in their world, someone to be feared and hated, pitied at best.
Orla stands awkwardly, waiting for the show to start when her stomach flips. The scrub top she has on stretches across her middle awkwardly, pulling at the seams and the soft shoes that cover her feet are obscured by her bump. The strange sensation returns, a little differently this time, just the barest flutter, deeper down than that nervous feeling. Her baby. She lays a gentle palm over the swell, as discreetly as she can, still feeling the scrutinizing looks of the women across the room.
Another nurse wheels a bed into the room, complete with Theera shivering atop it, her hair and gown drenched in sweat. Orla rushes to the head of the bed as she’s prepped for the operation. Theera is dazed, too exhausted to make much sense of anything right now, glassy eyes focused on the ceiling. She smoothes back the sweaty hair from Theera’s forehead.
“Hey cyar’ika. It’s Ori,” she says softly. The woman’s eyes focus a little, just enough to meet hers. She bumps their foreheads together. It was as much to comfort herself as much as the other woman. Non-mandos typically didn’t understand the meaning behind the gesture. She can’t squeeze her hand like she wants to - it’s being hooked up to IV tubing.
“I’m cold,” she mumbles. Some of it is adrenaline, some from fear, and the rest from the icy operating room temperature to keep the surgeons comfortable. Drenched as she is, it’s no wonder Theera is shivering.
Ori asks the wary tech for a warm blanket, terrified of overstepping and getting her shebs kicked out of the operating room. She’s promptly ignored in favor of his work. Dr. Loesch enters the room and the nurses titter around him while he ensures everything is prepped to his liking. Ori settles for as much skin to skin contact as she can get with Theera, trying to warm her, mumbling comforting nonsense into her ear as Loesch starts to work. A warming bassinet waits ominously against the wall for its prize.
A thin cry interrupts their mumbling and Theera’s eyes sharpen at the noise. Loesch holds the little thing over the curtain separating them indulgently, just for a moment. A boy, he says, and she and Theera find themselves mesmerized by the bloody little thing and his tiny squished face and flailing arms, already so angry at the world. He’s held up for a second, allowing Theera a cursory glance and then whisked away by the nurses to the bassinet. His mother is still paralyzed on the table and it makes it all the more unjust that she isn’t even allowed to touch her son, see him up close. The nurses at the bassinet laugh and coo, oblivious to Theera, who starts weeping pitifully. Fat tears slide down the side of her face, wetting the starched white sheet beneath her head.
Ori is in the middle of the absolute emotional chaos around her. Theera crying, Dr. Loesch talking with his assistant about weekend plans, and the nurses with the baby, who have turned back at the sound of crying to glare at them judgementally. She can practically hear them now. Serves her right, their looks say. She deserves it. The rage congeals around Ori, settling itself in her throat. This feeling is exactly what had put her in this place to begin with and she knows she has to control it, use it somehow. She watches them place a little bracelet around the infant’s ankle and scan it into a datapad. They don’t bother with Theera. It dawns on her then that if she’s lucky - incredibly lucky - she can use the Empire’s obsession with order against them.
She makes her way over to the bassinet under the ruse of joining the indulgent cooing that is going on, trying not to throw elbows before she’s kicked out of the room. The little boy’s leg is caught for a heel stick an she gets her chance. The number on the leg band is just visible, only for a second. She sends a prayer up to the Manda that she gets it right.
Taglist
@clonewarslover55 @simping-for-fives @808tsuika @jedi-mando @cherry-cokes-world @nelba @fractiouskat @passionofthesith
#PHEW THIS SUCKED TO WRITE UGH#how do people write long chaps like goddamn I'm drained and this took MONTHS#i suck basically lol#At Odds#Republic Commando#Kal Skirata
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Hello fellow Jikooker and a brave one i must mention. I am proud of u and any other Jikooker like u if they exist. I like how u handle hate asks and not take it personally. I know it can be hard sometimes but keep doing what u doing and people will eventually may be learn to f..k off
Now for my ask Do u think people are taking cultural context to another level just to cancel some Jikook moments because i am also Asian (not from Korea) and i understand their culture as its somewhat similar to mine and may be men here are not like in western countries and express themselves freely even though physical touches but we should remember that regardless even men here will not suck on each others ears. Korean culture is Conservative culture so it has limits forsure. If we compare physical language of men of korea to that of any western counrty it will be different but its not like men in korea or in Asia go on sucking each other ears. Slapping butt, holding hands, sitting on each others laps, or touching genital area jokingly can be seen and let me remind u even men in western countries do this but may be not in a shopping mall or at a wedding party lol but if its a friends gathering everyone does stupid things and i have witnessed it with my own eyes.. i live in US so i can kind of differentiate in this aspect. I just want to say Jikook is real and people will be regretting so much when or if they ever come out. But take my word for it. Being a part if both worlds i can see it.. what do u think about this whole situation ?
Psst. Cultural context my ass!
That's some gay for your ass. Right there in 4k! Right infront of cultural context's salad.
It's 2021. Cultural shock won't cut it. They need to hang it up. FLAT SCREEN!
Fact of the matter is, there are rainbows in South Korea in spite of their conservative culture. In spite of their skinship and fanservice culture. In spite of it all!
Dismissing Jikook on the grounds of culture just doesn't cut it anymore. Their culture does not bar them from being gay.
How can people view BigHit as an unorthodox, unconventional company distinct from corporate Korea in that they have a tendency to pander to the west and acknowledge that their modules and methods fundamentally deviate from traditional Korean business modules; but then in the same breath fail to see how this same company and its entities within it, in order to be part of the international community, allows themselves to be influenced and socialized by international culture in one form or the other.
I mean it's subtle but it's there. It's in the donations to Black Lives matter, declaring a stan on it, apologizing for the cultural and racial insensitivities, apologizing for sampling Jim Jones, delivering key notes at the UN, pushing for recognition and inclusivity in the US music industry and awards, the English in their songs, the English subtitles, overtly participating in international culture- but then suddenly when it comes to LGBTQ plus issues people think BigHit and BTS are deaf, blind, retrogressive, socially unwoke or unaware of it, conservative about it in the way most Kpop companies are, and a bit blind to the fact they hold so much influence and political power social wise and merely appropriate queer culture and draw on queer aesthetics to depoliticize queerness and marginalize a huge fraction of their fanbase.
So which is it? Is BigHit woke or not? Are they international or not? Are they tailoring themselves to fit into the international community through awareness or not?
It's really discombobulating. I swear to God.
I think people need to pay attention to what is going into BigHit and BTS's socialization.
Besides, love is a universal language. It transcends race. It transcends culture and language. It transcends people and systems. If Jikook are in love with eachother what has their culture got to do with it?
A Korean couple in America will still be acknowledged and viewed as a couple based on their behavior alone in spite of their culture or knowledge of it.
Why can't a gay couple be recognized outside of their culture?
Closeted gay couples living in South Korea claim they live in constant fear that people may recognize them as a couple when they walk down the street. I'm sorry, but why would they harbor such fears if their culture excuses gayism? If it's skinship is a normal thing to do in south Korea?
They fake injuries and slip their hands in each other's pockets so people will not notice them holding hands- if it's normal for men to hold hands why would people think these men are gay just by them holding hands?
Why at all did Tae and JK think Jimin was gay in their early days?
I get that cultural differences can act as a barrier sometimes especially to new fans and people who aren't oriented with Kpop culture or cultures outside of their own but education bridges that gap. It's been 7 years of Bangtan, ignorance of their culture is no longer an excuse.
Their President and Culture ministry isn't applauding them because they are stifling awareness to their culture. If anything they are spreading the Korean culture, inviting the world to participate in their culture through experience and education. They are teaching, explaining, and propagating their culture through their music.
Thats the socialization I mentioned earlier. It goes both ways for BTS and for Army- it's ridiculous then for people to now turn around and scream 'y'all just don't understand their culture.'
Rhetorics like these go against the facts, the statistics, the testaments to BTS's influence on trends and culture and negates the hegemonic power of Kpop or BTS and by extension Kculture.
I mean if you don't know about their culture, learn. You got no excuse not to learn about their culture. But I find the weaponization of the cultural differences that exist between BTS and their international fans, in this context, bonkers. People just like to project their inadequacies onto others. That's what it is.
How can we say Kpop or even the Korean culture is taking over world trends and in the same breath claim people are ignorant of that culture?
There is skinship culture prevalent in South Korea, yes but there is an equally prevalent culture in S.K which is Couple culture.
Skinship does not imply a couple. I keep saying skinship is not the reason Jikook is real. Acting like a couple in love with eachother is why Jikook is real.
I keep saying no one should come at me with the 'they held hands ergo they are a couple' 'they hugged ergo they are a couple.'
If Jikook are not acting like a couple by their culture's definition of 'couple' gay or straight, then they are not a couple. It's as simple as that.
If any member sits on another member's lap, kisses their calf but don't act like a couple outside of this, they are not a couple.
Jikook are queer by every standard.
About that Rosebowl moment, there is some I want to say about it but I'm afraid it's going to disillusion a lot of Jokers and give the Tuktukkers lurking around my blogs ammunition. I'll rather not say.
But that moment right there... peak love for me. PEAK LOVE. JK loves Jimin. Whether people think it's platonic or romantic really doesn't matter to me. He loves Jimin and Jimin loves him back. Very much.
That's what I celebrate.
JIKOOK IS REAL
Signed,
GOLDY
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Heart to Heart
Part 1, Part 2; Part 3 of a four part AU fic set just after Marineford.
2416 words, angst with a happy-ish ending
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Ten Days Later
Rosinante sat in the heart seat. It was about the last place he wanted to be but his brother had insisted and he wasn’t about to push his luck. He’d learned long ago to pick his battles when it came to Doffy, especially when he was in a mood. And, oh, what a mood he was in.
He’d returned to Dressrosa that way, equal parts amused and furious. It wasn’t all too unusual a mood to find Doffy in but it was always a dangerous one. Many members of the Family avoided him. The Executives mostly took the opportunity to spur him on to new heights of depravity. The Colosseum grounds were drenched with blood and more toys appeared on the streets every day.
Viola kept Rosinante appraised of all of it. It was probably a bit masochistic of him to insist on it, given he knew he could do nothing about it from his palace prison. He wanted to know, though. He needed to bear witness to his brother’s crimes and, more importantly, he needed to try to use what he heard to gauge what was in store for Law when he returned. He knew Law would scold him for both. How many lectures had he received for trying to shoulder Doffy’s crimes? How many more for worrying more about Law than himself?
What else was he supposed to do at a time like this? He couldn’t remember the last time Law had so thoroughly disappointed Doffy. That was the word Doffy had used. Disappointed. Only he could make so mild a word sound so terrifying. After that, Rosinante was willing to do anything he could to temper the storm to come, even if it meant sitting in the damnable heart seat.
Doffy turned on his heel, having completed another angry loop of the room. “Do you know the trouble he caused with this stunt?”
Rosinante did, in fact, know. Doffy had talked of little else. What could Law’s actions mean aside from how they benefited or inconvenienced the king of Dressrosa? Not that it mattered whether the question was rhetorical or not. Rosinante couldn’t speak even if he’d wanted, not with his lips sewn shut. His decade long punishment for the crime of pretending to be mute. Twice a day he got a supposed reprieve during Family meals. It was paraded as a kindness but all it meant was that Doffy would try to taunt him into saying something he’d regret and that his lips would never have a chance to scar or heal.
So Rosinante sat silently, as he always did. As expected, Doffy got back to pacing without so much as waiting for a shrug in response.
“Of course I have my ways of smoothing things over.”
He flashed a quick smile that said he knew Rosinante understood full well what he meant. Rosinante resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That was a skill he’d honed well over the years. He might not be able to speak but Doffy delighted in trying to provoke a reaction. It was never worth the minimal effort of a raised brow or the skin pulling sting of a frown.
Doffy, as usual, didn’t care. He enjoyed poking at things, whether he got a reaction or not. He stalked over to the heart seat and put a foot up on one of the arms to steady himself as he loomed. “But I don’t like going through the trouble just because that brat got ideas in his head. Just what was our dear Corazon thinking, do you suppose?”
Rosinante expected this to be more of the same but then Doffy pinched his fingers together and pulled. The effect was immediate. His lips stung as they were freed from their prison. He opened his mouth and then closed it.
“Well?” Doffy asked, leaning in closer.
Rosinante put one hand on his throat and with the other, touched his lips delicately. The strings were really gone. He couldn’t think of a time in eleven years when Doffy had removed them without an audience to amuse himself. Did he want an actual conversation? Rosinante wasn’t inclined to answer his brother but he was too shocked to refuse completely.
“Well what?” he croaked.
“I know you imagine you understand him better than anyone else, so tell me— Why did Law do it?”
Rosinante hadn’t a clue how he was supposed to answer that. There was no safe response, for him or for Law. There was likely a way to spin it in his brother’s favor but he didn’t trust his voice beyond a word or two. Doffy surely knew that and hoped to get the blunt and easy truth.
“I don’t—” He coughed and Doffy frowned. He waited through the burn in his unused throat. “I don’t know.”
“Come now, you must have a guess. What would he want with a small-fry like Monkey D. Luffy? Is it that cursed middle initial? What does he know?”
“Doffy—”
Doffy leaned in closer so that his razor sharp smile was so close it could have cut. “I’ve never let him in on our little secret. So what have you told him, little brother? Trying to sow dissent, eh?”
Rosinante felt his heart thud heavily in his chest. Trafalgar D Water Law. Perhaps it was well past time he told Law the truth to keep him safe. For the moment, though, he was happy he hadn’t done so yet.
“I haven’t…told him…” He swallowed over the pain every word brought. “Anything.”
Doffy just stared at him and, not for the first time, Rosinante cursed those infernal sunglasses. All he saw was his own frowning face reflected back at him. There were times when he felt like he didn’t know his brother at all. He couldn’t begin to guess what was going through the elder Donquixote’s head.
Not that he had long to wonder. Doffy’s silent interrogation was cut short by the call of the den den mushi in his pocket. Rosinante could tell at a glance that it was Trebol. That man made even snails look extra slimy.
“Doffy, Doffy, little Corazon is on his way.”
The already dangerous curve of Doffy’s smile sharpened further. “Make sure we aren’t disturbed.”
It seemed Trebol had more to say but Doffy had already hung up on him. He strode over to the door and waited. Rosinante wanted to rush in front of him, to intercept Law and let the boy rest rather than face whatever it was his brother had waiting, but he knew how well that would go. He instead waited in place with his heart in his throat.
The familiar clack of Law’s heels heralded his arrival. He looked small standing between the massive doors of the throne room and far younger than usual. Rosinante’s fingers dug into the arms of the heart seat.
“Corazon, do come in."
“Doflamingo,” Law said, curt as ever.
His long, even steps became abruptly clipped when he saw the heart seat was occupied. It was the only sign he gave that he was bothered. He leaned easily against a window ledge and waited for Doffy to speak first. He was careful not to look over to Rosinante but Rosinante had no reason to resist himself.
The dark rings under Law’s eyes were more pronounced than usual. His usually well groomed jawline was dusted with stubble and punctuated by the sickly green of healing bruises. If he looked that bad where they could all see, Rosinante didn’t want to imagine what Law was hiding.
Doffy stalked over. Rosinante might have been imagining things but he swore his brother intentionally positioned himself to avoid blocking Law from view. More likely, it was meant to keep Law’s view clear and let the boy stew in concern over what was planned for them both. What part of this hadn’t been contrived? Doffy was ever the puppet master.
As if he knew Rosinante’s thoughts, Doffy used a string to tilt Law’s chin up. He examined the bruises while turning Law’s head this way and that. “Straw Hat repaid you well for your kindness. It’s not often that you let someone else get the better of you. No good deed goes unpunished,” he said with a chuckle. "Isn't that right?"
“So it would seem,” Law replied. “I assume I’m here to find out just how true that is.”
Doffy threw back his head and laughed. “That depends— what exactly was your intention, Corazon? You’ll find that I don’t enjoy a fire quite as much when it comes back to burn me.”
Law kept his features carefully schooled. Nothing about his face or his posture gave away unease. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It was a whim, nothing more.”
Doffy’s fingers played with unseen strings. “A whim? You don’t act on whims.”
Law shrugged and inclined his head. “It’s as simple as that. I didn’t intend anything against you. I just acted. Call it… a doctor’s instinct, if you need an explanation.”
"And what if I had needed my doctor? You were at Marineford for me."
Law raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying anyone there was an actual threat to you?"
Doffy laughed. This time nothing else painted the sound, only honest amusement. That didn't make it any more pleasant to listen to. The things that amused Doffy rarely were. In this case, though, it granted Rosinante the smallest sliver of hope. Perhaps Doffy's anger had lost its edge. Maybe he remembered why he was so fond of the boy he'd chosen to be his right hand man.
Then, just as quickly as that anger had subsided, it came rushing back. It showed itself in the protruding vein on Doffy's temple, the glint of strings between his fingertips. He stood up straight. When drawn up to his full height, without his usual slouch, it was even more apparent that he was nearly double the size of Law.
"You were there for me- under my flag, my name- whether I needed you or not. I don't care if it was a whim or open revolt, you put eyes on me I'd rather not have. I had to pay for your whim and I expect repayment."
Law let out a slow breath and let his shoulders slump. There was something akin to relief in his features. Law had surely been waiting for this exact moment for weeks. Whatever was to come, that wait was over. Rosinante only wished he could feel anything other than dread. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother so furious. He would spare Law the brunt of that anger if he could. He’d failed Law on Minion and he would never do so again.
“I understand,” Law said with an even voice.
“That’s good to hear. What I want from you—” Doffy bared his teeth, the expression too vicious to be called a smile. “—is my brother’s heart.”
The careful facade Law had constructed fell away in an instant. “He has nothing to do with this,” he shouted. “This was my decision. My mistake. Let me pay the price.”
He clutched a fistful of Doffy’s coat when the older man turned to walk toward Rosinante. Doffy grabbed hold of his wrist hard enough to make Law cry out when he wrenched the young man off.
“He has everything to do with this,” Doffy growled. “He’s the reason you’ve become the sort of soft, sentimental fool who would act based on a feeling. So you will pay the price and I’m naming the payment.”
Law flicked his wrist and formed a Room around him. It was enough to get Doffy to stop in his tracks. Law’s golden eyes took on a flinty edge. He formed his hand into a sort of claw and held it before his chest.
“Take my heart instead.”
Strings snapped onto Law’s arm before he could complete the operation on himself.
“You’re testing my patience,” Doffy said. With one hand still controlling the strings, the other reached for the gun tucked into the band of his pants. He pointed the pistol at Rosinante. “I could make you pull the trigger. I could make you carve the heart out without the use of your powers. Now do as I say or I’ll ask for more than just his heart.”
Law fought against the strings. At this rate he was liable to break his wrist, if not lose the arm completely. Rosinante knew he should be more concerned for himself. There was no saying what Doffy would do when he had control of his heart. However, he couldn’t spare a thought for that with Law in pain before him and threatening to push Doffy over the edge.
“Law.”
That single syllable was enough to put a stop to Law’s struggles. He stared, wide eyed. “Your mouth. Your voice. But when...?”
Rosinante waved him off and crossed the room to kneel before Law. He ignored the way Doffy smiled, all of this no doubt going according to his plan, and took Law’s hands in his own. He could feel them trembling. Those weren’t the hands of a killer— of a Corazon— but the boy he’d watched over for the last fourteen years.
“Do as he asks.”
There was no way Law would have cried if he was aware of doing it. As it was, the tears pooled and fell unheeded while he searched Rosinante for an answer. He squeezed his eyes shut so that the last of the tears were forced out. When he opened them again, the gold had lost its shine. He pressed close, wrapped one arm around Rosinante’s back, and poised the other with the hand at his chest.
“This won’t hurt,” Law muttered.
Even if he hadn’t known how Law’s powers worked, Rosinante wouldn’t have doubted it. No matter what Doffy tried to make of Law, that would never change.
It was over before he was even aware anything had happened. He only knew because the blue haze of the Room fizzled out and he saw his heart beating steadily in the palm of Law’s hand. Law’s fingers curled protectively around it. Rosinante felt it as a comforting squeeze.
“I’m sorry you forced me to this point,” Doffy said as he took the heart from Law.
Law said nothing, only nodded and left the room when Doffy asked for nothing more. Rosinante felt a shiver that started from somewhere outside himself and curled into the empty cavity in his chest.
#one piece#one piece au#one piece corazon#corazon#donquixote rosinante#trafalgar law#doflamingo#donquixote rocinante#donquixote doflamingo#trafalgar d. water law#corazon!law#fic
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Stark Legacy 4
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers x Wanda Maximoff x Maria Hill x Reader but Maria Hill x Reader centric for this chapter.
Summary: Four times Maria Hill finds the reader super cute but tells herself three girlfriends enough, and the one time she doesn’t hold back.
Word Count: 4884
A/N: Well, I didn’t plan for this to go almost 5k but here we are. And this is my first time writing, Maria Hill x Reader, so have mercy on me. I hope I gave it justice, and that you guys have fun reading this one as much as I had fun writing it. Let me know what you guys think. xx
Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 6
***
Happy startled from where he was lounging in the living room when he heard several footsteps coming from the hallway. He was already aiming his gun at the door when Carol walked in along with Nat, Maria, and Wanda. They looked unfazed in the face of a loaded gun.
“Hey, ladies?” It sounded more like a question than a greeting. He unloaded his gun, put it back down the centre table before walking to the bar where the girls sat. Nat was behind the counter already pouring drinks for Carol and Wanda. Maria, on the other hand, walked directly to the balcony to make a phone call to cancel the crew she called for awhile ago.
The room is tensed, Happy can sense it. Before he could question what’s wrong, Maria walked back in, and asked, “Did you know that Stark’s built a new iron suit?”
Ah! Now Happy understood what the tense silence meant. “Is she even gonna tell us?” Carol asked after turning her stool around to face him.
“Well -”
Wanda gasped before he can even say anything else. “What do you mean she’s just out testing her suit?” Happy looked at her with a straight face. He never got used to the young witch being on his head.
“Do you mean the suit’s not finished yet?” Nat looked like she’s trying to decide whether she’s uncomfortable, worried, or pissed. “Did you know what she did?”
Before Happy could answer though, the sound of your metal boots landing on the balcony made everyone turn towards you.
“Stop terrorizing the poor man, Tasha.” You walked slowly inside the penthouse, your suit retreating back inside your body. It was a design Tony planned for the next Iron suit that he never got to incorporate. You walked back to the couch and sat facing everyone at the bar.
“Did Fury know about this?” Maria asked as politely as she could while asserting her power as Deputy Director.
“No.” You answered simply. Before she can pose any question, you continued. “I’m not S.H.I.E.L.D, nor an Avenger. I don’t need to ask permission to anyone to do anything.”
Carol and Maria frowned a little with your blatant disregard of authority. Wanda kept quiet, knowing that you are right. They don’t have dominion over you. Still, behind the counter, Nat tried to hide her chuckle but knew she failed when everyone turned their attention to her. At that point, instead of reigning in her reaction, she started giggling uncontrollably. Carol looked at her like she just grew another head.
Maria having a slight idea as to why Nat is laughing, ignored her and turned back towards you. “May I speak to you in private?” she asked. You’re starting to like how badass Deputy Director Hill is well-mannered. You smiled before standing up and following her in your brand new study.
Nat watched you walk away with Maria. She has a feeling you will live up to the Stark attitude. Instead of getting a little pissed, she’s secretly happy to have Stark energy back in their lives. Sure, it was a little rough getting Tony to work along with everyone else but they made it, and she misses him every day since.
Happy sidled up to the smiling black widow, watching you and Maria speak inside the study with your door wide open. “It’s just like old times,” she whispered.
Happy chuckled, remembering how hard it was for Tony to even sign a contract with S.H.I.E.L.D at first, and how allergic he was to asking permission and being told what to do. “Yeah, just like old times.”
***
It wasn’t like old times. Maria learned that when she found you sitting on one of the benches outside HQ with a cup of coffee from Starbucks, and reading a paperback an hour earlier than you were expected. To say that she was surprised was an understatement. She expected you to be late for the meeting, the same way Tony was when they were trying to get him to sign his contract with S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers.
You looked up at her and immediately greeted her with a warm smile. “Good morning, Deputy Director.”
She eyed you curiously. “Good morning, you’re early.”
You smiled in a way that the artificial skin around your eyes crinkled adorably, and Maria is mesmerized. “Well -” you reached for the tumbler and handed it to her. She took it gratefully. “I never liked being late.”
It’s interesting to know that no matter how alike you and Tony are, there are still things that set you two apart. Maria is quite intrigued to find out what else makes you different. Maria gave you a small smile. “Shall we go inside?”
You meticulously put a bookmark on the page you were reading (because only demons use dog ears as a bookmark) before putting it inside your backpack.
“Lead the way, ma’am,” you said cheekily. Maria’s heart skipped a beat at that.
***
Maria mentally prepared for a long meeting with you and Fury but to yet another surprise, the meeting only lasted for an hour. After explaining your suit, Fury wasted no time in whipping out a contract that will sign you as a training agent with S.H.I.E.L.D for the moment. In the past, Tony made a huge fuss about being put in the lowest rank, they both expected you to do the same but no. You just asked Fury to hand the contract over so you can go through it. With your newly installed AI, you were able to scan the contract and understand it’s content within 2 minutes.
You procured a pen out of the pocket of your trouser and signed expertly on the side of each piece of paper. Fury was surprised but of course, none of it can be seen across his always impassive face. You slid him the side contract, and he caught it expertly.
“Very well -” He neatly put the contract inside a folder with your name labelled in front. “ - Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D, Agent Stark.”
You grinned at the title. Maria bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling as well. Something about you is infectious it seems. “Thank you, Director.”
“Don’t give Agent Hill too much trouble,” Fury said before exiting the conference room.
“No promises, Director.” You said looking at Maria from across the table.
She rolled her eyes at you playfully. “I’m surprised you agreed to the contract easily.”
You laughed heartily, causing butterflies to erupt on Maria’s stomach, then a somber expression took over your face. You looked at the pen in your hand, you turned it over to look at your brother’s name carved on it. “Growing up, Tony and I were inseparable. Even with a few years ahead of me, everyone still manages to think we were twins because we like the same things, think almost the same way.”
You smiled remembering your childhood with Tony but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I know Tony’s a bit of work, and a pain in the ass when it comes to following orders but no matter how alike we were -” You looked up at Maria before continuing. “I’m not my brother, I’m not Tony.”
“I’m sorry -” She felt bad for comparing, she started to apologize but you cut her off.
“It’s okay. It’s a common mistake.”
You said it without resentment, just a fact. Even in the past, you never felt resentment over being compared to him in almost all occasions. You think it’s an honor to be even considered Tony’s equal but with him forever gone, people are bound to keep comparing and you’re not gonna live your second life living in his shadow. It’s not something he would want you to do. So you will point it out until people learn the difference between the two of you.
Maria nodded. She realized in that raw moment that regardless of your ball-jointed shell, and inhumanly perfect skin, you are still fully human inside; and she resolved to treat you like one better.
***
One of the perks of signing the contract with S.H.I.E.L.D was that Fury didn’t revoke your privilege to stay at the Tower with Happy. In return though, you are to report daily at the headquarters and will be closely working under Agent Hill. You frankly didn’t mind, Maria has been very professional since the day she and Happy found you in Tony’s last secret lab. You know that she’s very smart, and damn good leader. It also helps to point out that she’s very easy in the eyes.
Yes, your soul may be housed in a robotic shell but you are still very much gay. Not that you think you have a chance with Deputy Director Hill, no. Happy has filled you in thoroughly about what you’ve missed, one of them being that the most badass women of the Avengers are actually dating Agent Hill.
Now, how on earth do you think you’d ever had a chance to board that ship? The answer is you do not. Had you been your normal human self, it wouldn’t be a problem but you are not your normal human self. And you loathe to admit it - even to yourself - but having a fully robotic body is giving you insecurities you never had before.
So you do the what a Stark would in an event that they can’t get what they want: compartmentalize. Box the heavy feelings and drop it at the bottom of the ocean. So, the next day, you were more than ready to meet Agent Hill (or her girlfriends) without feeling flustered.
“Good morning, Agent Stark.” Maria’s sudden greeting from the gym door startled you enough to cause you to punch a hole through the punching bag. Maria chuckled when she heard you curse under your breath.
You looked up at her as she casually walks inside the room, wearing her tight training gear. So much for not being ruffled by feelings, you thought to yourself. “Good morning, ma’am. I can pay for the bag,” you said sheepishly.
Maria stood a few feet away from you outside the mat. She turned around to put her gym bag down. “Don’t worry about it, we have so many of that in the stock room,” she answered before stepping away from her bag and bending down to start her stretching. She kept her back towards you, giving your full access to her tight ass, and you had to quickly avert your eyes to keep your system from overheating.
“Agent Stark, I detect a spike to your shell temperature,” Edward, your newly programmed AI, spoke through the gym speaker. You internally pleaded for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. You thought it was a good idea to cast Edward to the gym system so he could play you some music while working out. Now, you know it was stupid especially after you looked back towards Maria who’s now smirking at you.
Maria walked towards you and put a hand on your cheek. “Calm down, Agent Stark. We haven’t even started yet,” she whispered. Training daily was not a problem you said. Not going to be ruffled by gay feelings you said.
***
On days where you don’t have training, Maria always asks you to shadow her for the day while she does her job as deputy director. It’s in those days that Maria finds more reason to like you. On your first week, she found out that you’re even better with people than your brother. People used to always gravitate towards Tony because he was a force of nature that sucks in people in his orbit. You, on the other hand, is the calm after Tony’s storm, and people gravitate towards you because of your charming and dependable personality.
On the second week, she found out that while Tony likes reminding people that he’s a genius billionaire, you like keeping it on the down-low. It’s common knowledge that you are as much as a genius as Tony was but Maria appreciates your humility. In that same week, she also learned that you are a caretaker.
“Good morning, Agent Hill.” You greeted way too cheerfully. Maria turned towards you and was surprised to see you extending both your hands with coffee and pastry. She cocked her perfectly sculpted eyebrows at you. You smiled at her silent question. “You’re always here early. I’m assuming haven’t had breakfast yet. If you don’t want them, you can give them away.”
A pained looked briefly passes over Maria’s face like the thought of giving your gifts away pained her. “You’re right, I haven’t had breakfast yet. I didn’t wanna make too much fuss in the kitchen and risk waking Carol, and Wanda.” She took a bite of the still-hot Bearclaw. “Hmm. This is so good. Thank you.”
You smiled as you watch her eat up. “You said, you didn’t wanna wake Carol and Wanda. Where’s Tasha?”
Maria noted that you’re the only person at S.H.I.E.L.D that calls her girlfriend Tasha. “She always wakes up early but she’s hopeless in the kitchen.” Maria smiled fondly at the thought of Natasha. Then she looked up at you with mirth in her eyes. “Don’t tell her I said that, though.”
You two started giggling together.
***
The pastry and coffee became a habit. A part of it was you being obsessed with consistency but a bigger part of it was because you care about the woman. You’ve seen how busy she could be with training recruits, doing reports and paper works, coordinating missions, and attending meetings with Fury that she forgets to eat. So, every day like clockwork, no matter what happens or no matter where she is, you find a way to get Maria something to eat.
Just like how you found a way to send her, her daily fix of pastry and coffee while she was at the Avengers compound. Maria was on the balcony speaking with one of her agents when Happy waltz in.
“Happy! My man!” Sam yelled enthusiastically when he saw the man came in with boxes of doughnuts, a smaller paper bag, and a cup of coffee. “Is that for us?”
Happy greeted everyone before putting the doughnuts on the centre table. He made sure to put the smaller paper bag and coffee on a separate table. In Sam’s excitement over the prospect of food, he failed to get the message that the other package wasn’t for sharing.
“Uhm -” Happy tried to stop him but Sam already opened the small paper bag containing Maria’s Bearclaw.
“Oooh! Bear-” He didn’t manage to finish cooing over the pastry before Maria appeared before him with her standard S.H.I.E.L.D gun on his face. He let out an embarrassing yelp.
“Put my breakfast down Wilson or I’ll put you down myself.”
Sam gulped at the seriousness in Maria’s voice. He slowly put the bag down back on the side table and promptly put his hands up in surrender. “Damn, Hill. It’s just bread.”
It was all it took before Carol, Wanda, and Nat started laughing so hard. Sam turned towards his teammates and glared. Wanda recovered first and wiped the happy tears from her eyes. “It’s not just bread, Sam. It’s from her crush,” she said a little breathlessly from the laughing fit.
Sam turned to Maria who’s already sat down and nibbling quietly on her food with a faint blush on her cheeks. “You have a crush on Happy?” He asked incredulously.
Happy threw a pillow on the back of this head. “Ow! What?”
“It’s not from me, idiot.”
“It’s from Stark,” Carol said.
Sam turned towards Maria again. “You have a crush on Y/N?”
“Like I’m the only one,” Maria fired back. Making Sam turn towards the three, who are now turning bright red on their seat as well.
Sam and Bucky chuckled. “Well, hot damn.”
***
Exactly two months after starting your training with Maria, Fury decided you’re fit for more than just desk duty. No one was actually surprised at the decision. Aside from being more agile, more adaptable than any other recruit, you have also proven that you are just as smart as your brother was. Hence, making you as good as a tactician as he was.
On the day of your first mission, Maria came to work a little later than usual and she was surprised to only find her pastries but no you, sitting on her desk and waiting for her. She looked around to check if you’re in just loitering around other tables. You have, after all, been quite popular with the other agents. What with your insanely human-built, and charming personality.
“Agent Colson,” she called out when she saw the man passing by.
“Good morning, Agent Hill.” He greeted cordially. She was just about to ask you when Colson beat her to the subject. “I hope you don’t mind me borrowing Agent Stark, I’m one man short for today’s emergency mission.”
Maria was surprised but managed to give the man a tight smile. “Of course not,” she said shaking her head a little. “May I speak with Agent Stark before you leave though?”
“Of course, she’s probably out at the cockpit preparing with Daisy.”
***
Lo and behold, you are indeed in the cockpit, sitting on one of the metal crates. Your smile faltered a bit when you see the unreadable look on Maria’s face.
“What’s with the long face, Agent Hill?” You teased lightly. Agent Johnson kicked your foot in warning before walking away to give you two a little privacy.
“Nothing.” Her reply was short and clipped like she’s holding back on saying more. “Just -”
“Just?” You cocked an eyebrow at her.
“Just remember your training out there.” She shoved her hands at the back pocket of her dark jeans. “Don’t lose your head.”
It’s not like she doesn’t trust you to complete the mission. It’s not like she doesn’t trust Agent Colson’s team to have your back. They’re one of the finest agents in the organization but it still worries her that you’re going out there without her, or without one of her girlfriends at least. She will have to talk to Fury about it, she thought.
“I didn’t think you care so much, Agent Hill.”
You just couldn’t help teasing her especially when she looks like she’s struggling whether to admit to it or not with herself. Before she can answer though, Agent Johnson came back to tell you it’s time to take off. You nodded before jumping off the crate you’re seating on. Maria watched you leave before the quinjet closes, you turned back to her and winked. You caught a glimpse of her shaking her head to hide the faint blush on her cheeks.
***
The mission was fairly easy. It’s just supposed to be a recon mission. Get in, get intel, get out but like real life, not everything goes as planned. Right at the start, you were antsy, the place was way too quiet to be safe. It was even more suspicious when your team was able to get the intel you came for without meeting any hostile, nor any resistance.
“It’s a trap,” you whispered where your team are huddled in front of the computer. “Let’s pretend we hadn’t caught up to their plan.”
“What are you thinking?” Agent Grant asked while he types away on the keyboard.
“They’re going to ambush us on the way out,” you answered.
Everyone looked at each other. Agent Grant pulled the USB off the computer and turned towards you. “You should take this.” He pushed the device to your hand. “Just in case.”
You frowned. “Hold on a sec.” You snatched the device and slot it in your arm. Within a second, you pulled it back and gave it back to Agent Grant. He looked at you questioningly.
“I can’t hold on to that. They can shoot me, damage my operating system, deactivate me, and capture me.” Everyone got the message. “But I made a copy of what’s inside, just in case.”
“Okay. Let’s get this over with.” Everyone nodded. “Move out.”
***
As calculated, the ambush happened just before you can close the building. They’re waiting for you right in the open, with their annoying HYDRA uniform, and heavy artillery. No warning came before they started openly firing at your team.
You hear Agent Johnson barking orders in your comms. “Spread out, wait for my signal.”
You and Agent May run to the right, while Agent Johnson and Grant run to left and took cover on the thick trunk of the trees surrounding the vicinity. “They’re bound to run out of ammo. That’s our cue,” Agent Johnson spoke through the comms again.
Like clockwork, the gunfire stopped and the HYDRA soldier scrambled to reload their guns. Right on cue, the four of your stepped out of the shadow and started attacking the soldiers in close combat. You can see by the way they were uncoordinated that they weren’t expecting to be engaged that way. You took it as an opportunity to send powerful combination moves to immobilize as many hostiles as possible.
The fight lasted for at least an hour or more. Everyone took a moment to catch their breaths.
“Everyone okay?” Agent Johnson confirmed. The fight visibly took a lot from the team that they can only nod at the question.
“I think we better move out before more of these bad boys crawl out from where they came from,” you suggested. Nobody needed to be told twice. Nobody has any more energy left to fight a fresh wave of hostiles. Even you were running on your secondary battery pack.
***
A collective sigh of relief was heard once the quinjet was safely flying in autopilot. Everyone was already out of their tactical uniform when you emerged from the pit. Agent May smiled when she saw you walk in.
“Change out of your suit and try to relax a little,” she suggested. You started retracting your Phantom suit back to your body when Agent Johnson gasped.
“Agent Stark are you alright?” Agent Grant stood up to check you up. You were confused until you followed their line of sight.
“Oh.” Was all you could say when you saw the corrugated blade lodge a little off your left ribcage.
“Oh?” Your team asked in unison.
You sat down beside Agent Johnson. “What can we do?” She asked. By the hitch in her voice, you know she’s going frantic.
“Nothing as of the moment but I’m okay -” You said a little slower than you normally would, and your eyes started dropping. “-I have run diagnostic. It’s not a threat but it’s draining my batteries fast.”
Everyone calmed a little bit when they remembered you’re not entirely human anymore. “Okay. You should rest. We still have a few hours in the air,” Agent May suggested.
“I already sent a message for Happy. He will know how to handle me.”
***
True to your words, Happy was there when the quinjet landed. “Thank you,” he said to the team before rolling you away with the technical team. Maria arrived at the lab shortly after Happy got you in the table.
“What can I do to help, Happy?”
The man didn’t startle. Instead, he shoved a bunch of wires in her hands before going to the computers and started typing away.
“Can you attached those to Y/N’s body, please?”
Maria did as she was instructed to. After a few minutes, with the cables secure in various parts of your body, the lab light dimmed while the one at the exam table lit up. A program booted on the computer.
“Hello. I’m Edward, I’m Y/N Stark’s personal AI. What can I do for you?”
“Run diagnostics on Y/N.” Happy commanded the AI with practised precision.
“It appears that Ms Stark has suffered a stab wound on her left ribcage. No internal wirings or hardware has been compromised. Except for Battery Pack A.”
“Suggested course of action?”
“Replace battery pack A, and initiate skin repair protocol.”
Happy nodded solemnly while checking his work tablet. Maria standing on the side, just watching everything unfold.
“Edward, I just connected you to this lab. Run an inventory of supplies and equipment.”
After literally five seconds. “Inventory complete.”
Happy smiled thinking how you did well in programming Edward. “Do we have what you need to start Y/N’s repairs?”
“Yes.”
“Then initiate.”
“Copy that, Harold.”
***
The replacement of your battery pack and the repair on your skin only took 45 minutes. All of which was done by the industrial robots from Stark Industries. Happy and Maria looked on intently as machines whirred around you.
“Repairs complete,” Edward informed the pair both Maria and Happy who sighed their relief quietly.
“How long before she wakes, Edward?” Maria asked.
“In about 5 hours tops, Agent Hill. The protocol includes putting her on stasis as she fully charges all four of her batteries.”
“In that case, I’m going to get us something to eat first. This is stressful.” Happy declared while already almost halfway to the door.
***
Five hours, and a box of pizza later, you opened your eyes. You turn your head away from the light and saw Happy sleeping on the sofa in the lab. You smiled softly to yourself, happy to still have the man by your side.
“Hey.” You turned to your other side, surprised to see Maria sitting by your bedside and holding a book on robotics.
“Hey,” you choked out. There’s that unreadable expression on Maria’s face again. Lucky for you, you didn’t have to ask her any more about it before Maria closed the book in her hand and threw herself in your arms.
“Hey, I’m here. I’m okay.” You tried to assure her but Maria only tightened her hold on you.
“You scared me,” she mumbled against your chest.
You were inclined to make a joke about being invincible but by the looks of it, Maria wouldn’t appreciate it. So, you stopped deflecting to protect yourself from catching pesky feelings. You wrapped your hands around her a little tighter.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
#avengers imagine#natasha romanoff x reader#carol danvers x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#maria hill x reader#black widow x reader#captain marvel x reader#scarlett witch x reader#carolnat x reader x wandahill#carolnat#blackhill#unholy pentagon#natasha romanoff imagine#carol danvers imagine#wanda maximoff imagine#maria hill imagine#black widow imagine#captain marvel imagine#scartlett witch imagine#raven writes
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You Don’t Get It || Milo & Metzli
TIMING: Current - 10:29pm
PARTIES: @WICKEDMILO @DEATHISANARTMETZLI
SUMMARY: Milo and Metzli stop by the hospital for a simple errand, and what transpires is not so simple.
CONTAINS: Drug tw, Addiction tw, Abuse tw, Physical Abuse tw, Emotional Abuse tw, Gaslighting tw, Alcohol tw
Milo didn’t enjoy the hospital. Not only did it hold far too many memories of his childhood, and the relationship he used to share with his parents, it was clinical, and overwhelming. Now that his senses were heightened, every smell, and sound, along with the bright strip lighting overhead felt like an assault, battering him from all sides, pressing in on him until he felt small, and crushed under the weight of it all. Though he was grateful Metzli had agreed to take a detour so that he could drop off the pager Harsh had forgotten when leaving the apartment for his night shift, he was also incredibly on edge. He wanted to get in and leave as quickly as possible, which was why after successfully delivering the pager, he was hurrying down the halls, undeniably familiar to him even after so much time had passed. He hadn’t told Metzli that his parents were probably working, he wasn’t even sure he had told them they were doctors, but he would be able to explain when they were safely inside the car, on their way to whatever bar or club they were going to spend the rest of the night in.
He couldn’t bring himself to talk about it now. Things had been difficult for years, complicated, and messy in a way few people understood. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell on so he turned to offer his friend a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes but it was the best that he could manage considering the vague sense of panic settling deep within his chest. “I fucking hate this place…” He muttered, hoping that would be enough to justify his odd behaviour. He kept his head low, running through every way he could continue to make small talk, and avoid any questions. No doubt Metzli was going to be full of them. Accidentally catching the eye of a nurse who used to give him lollipops when he would visit with his dad as a child, he saw a flicker of recognition in the way that she looked at him, and began to walk even faster. The sooner he could get out of here, the better. “Don’t look at her, please-” He half begged. What if she stopped them? What if she sent a message to his mom and dad? “Come on, let’s just go-”
Metzli was annoyed with the pit stop the two had to make before going for drinks. Even worse, they were stopping at a hospital—probably the worst place for a vampire to be. All the smells—cleaning products, blood, death—they arched a brow at Milo. He was much more nervous than usual. “Depresso, everyone hates hospitals. They suck.”
Hands were pocketed as the two navigated the halls and Milo’s attempts at appearing calm were failing. Yes he hated hospitals, but Metzli was gathering that he hated this hospital in particular. Just as their mouth opened to ask what the hell was wrong, they ran into a woman. A clipboard clattered to the floor and Metzli swiped it up quickly to hand it back, “My apologies ma’am, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
A flirtatious smile formed and they cocked their head to the side. Milo’s mom may be older, but she was certainly beautiful. Just before they were about to put on the real charm, the doctor recognized Milo and turned her focus to him.
They managed to make their way down a few more corridors without any kind of interruption, and Milo was almost starting to believe they were safe. His parents could be in their offices, which were situated on another floor. Or maybe even in the cafeteria, sharing a coffee during their lunch breaks like he had seen them do so many times before. But his hopes were dashed when, forcing Metzli to keep up with him, they walked into a doctor, a blonde woman whose scent he recognised almost immediately. Coming to a halt, feeling every emotion he had been working to repress, he stared at the face that looked so much like his own. Distracted by Metzli, it took his mother a few seconds to realise who they were with, but the moment she laid eyes on him her expression shifted, pain obvious in her eyes, despite an underlying hope that he recognised all too well.
“No, no, don’t apologise.” She insisted, her voice quiet, confused. “Thank you.” She accepted the clipboard, not taking her eyes off of her only child. Milo knew she was wondering whether he was ready to come home.
“Hi, Mom…” He said, his voice cracking as he broke the sudden, awkward silence. As if on cue, she glanced behind her, and his father emerged from a private room. Moving automatically to stand beside his wife, it took him far less time to realise who she was talking to.
“Ali, I’ve put in a request, a technician should be here in about an hour-” Breaking off without warning, he turned to stare at his son. His eyes automatically began checking him over for any signs of physical injury. He was noticably flustered, but doing his best to remain calm. “Milo?” He asked, his voice sharp, an edge to it as he clearly tried to figure out whether there might be an ulterior motive, or a darker reason for his visit to the hospital. They all knew he wouldn’t show up for a family reunion. “Are you hurt?” Milo faltered, shocked by the question. For a brief moment he was reminded of the fact that they cared. But before affection could overwhelm him, his usual guards fell into place, aided by the alcohol he had already consumed over the course of the evening.
“What?” He demanded, his anger coming to him easily. A well practised routine by now, one he was confident in. “You aren’t going to ask me to take a drug test? Or empty my pockets to make sure I’m not stealing pills from your precious patients?” His dad didn’t react, far too used to the defensive response, but his mom bit down on her bottom lip, hurt by the accusation.
“Milo, that isn’t-” She started, but he cut her off, refusing to let her get under his skin. What he was saying was valid, they had made similar judgements in the past. They had questioned him, yelled at him, cried in many desperate attempts to emotionally manipulate him. The two interventions they dared to stage still filled him with rage, and a burning shame that he willed himself to ignore. He wasn’t the problem.
“Whatever,” he muttered harshly, making an effort to avoid eye contact with them both. “We’re leaving, right Metzli?”
Metzli was stunned by the verbal interaction between Milo and his—parents? They could only look back and forth between the two parties as they held their own private conversation. But they could hear it all. The anger and resentment on Milo’s behalf, and the parental love and worry from his mom and dad. It created a whirlpool of emotions in them, unsure on how to feel or even react.
Milo’s mother clearly seemed worried, only asking if her son was okay, and she was met with this? A grown man acting like an ungrateful brat to parents that actually seemed to genuinely love him and care about him? Oh, oh no. Metzli grew angry and stepped in without thinking. “What the hell is the matter with you, Milo?” They growled, defending his parents. “They’re just asking if you’re okay and you’re acting like a fucking asshole!”
Anger rose and rose from the pit of Metzli’s stomach, straight to their chest. Milo was acting as if his parents just yelled at him, or even put him down. They weren’t having any of it. Not when they knew what it was truly like to not have parents that loved them.
Milo fell silent, stunned into submission by Metzli stepping between himself, and his family. He could see that his parents were equally as surprised. The three Summers watched, listening as the vampire began to berate him for his frustration. Any confusion, or curiosity was very quickly washed away, and he found it was suddenly very easy to direct his anger towards his friend. How could Metzli assume to understand the situation after hearing less than two minutes of a conversation? How could they call him out when they didn’t know what he had been put through by the two people standing opposite him? He loved his parents, he wasn’t afraid to admit that. But having parents who wanted to change certain aspects of who he was, aspects that weren’t hurting anybody, was painful. He hated it. Why couldn’t they just accept him? All of him. “No, they’re not.” He snapped. “They’re trying to work out how many drugs are in my system.” Even if they were concerned for him, the question would be at the forefront of their minds. “And whether or not I’m going to embarrass them in front of their colleagues. Colleagues they decided to talk to about their son being an addict.” How many times had he come home to find new leaflets, and studies on the kitchen table? Notes from nurses, and doctors his parents were close with about how best to handle a child with an addiction. Only they didn’t have a child with an addiction. “You don’t get it, okay? You don’t get to stand there and call me an asshole.”
“And so what if they are?!” Metzli snapped back, no longer holding off any of their words or emotions. They got into Milo’s bubble, looming over him to intimidate. “Are they locking you in a fucking basement?!” Hands pushed Milo backwards, not quite hard enough to make him fall. “Are they beating you until you bleed?!” Another step forward, another push back. “Are they leaving scars all over you?!”
Anger pushed and pushed, taking them to their breaking point. Metzli may not know exactly the relationship the family had, but it obviously stemmed from a place of love. To see someone be so ungrateful and even cruel against that made them snap. Milo’s shirt was now firmly grasped into fists as they raised him off the ground with ease. “No! They are showing you love and care! Something you obviously are taking for granted!”
Tears streamed down their caramel face, and hands were on Metzli’s shoulders—it was Milo’s parents. Eyes softened when they turned and made eye contact with them, and they let Milo go. “Even now, they are trying to protect you,” words were strained and wet behind hot tears. A small crowd of nurses and doctors began to form, but they continued. “You don’t get to stand there and act like your parents are hurting you when you don’t even know what that really feels like. When you have parents that want you and care for you enough to make sure you stick around.”
Pain was painted on their face, full of sorrow and disdain for what they had witnessed and what they had experienced. Closing their eyes for a few seconds, they sobbed softly and walked a few feet away to recollect themselves.
Milo’s eyes widened as Metzli descended on him. He realised there wasn’t just anger in their voice, but aggression too, and he curled in on himself, a subconscious attempt to make himself small. Forced to retreat, he stumbled backwards, his chest stinging where Metzli had laid their hands on him. He wasn’t expecting to be pushed, to be physically challenged in front of his parents, but there was nothing he could say. He wasn’t about to apologise. If anything Metzli should apologise for making so many assumptions. “Stop it.” He demanded, regaining his balance, and trying to sound firm in his order. Taking another step back when his friend decided to push him for a second time, he only felt his anger surge. This wasn’t fair, nothing about this was fair. As if being in the presence of his parents wasn’t difficult enough, Metzli was determined to make it worse. “Metzli- stop!” He said again, scrambling to grasp at their hands as they lifted him easily from the floor. It was a terrifying sensation, finding himself so out of control. The toes of his shoes slipped against the linoleum floor, desperately trying to find purchase. For a brief moment he worried they were going to throw him backwards, do something to further draw attention to their unnatural strength, but then his mom rested a careful hand against their shoulder, attempting to de-escalate the situation.
“I don’t really know what’s going on here between you two… but this is a hospital, this isn’t appropriate.” She said, her voice quiet, as always tinged with disappointment, and hurt. Milo resisted the urge to look her in the eye, knowing he wouldn’t like what he saw there. Feet finding solid ground again, he shook Metzli’s hands off of him, brushing down his shirt with a shaky huff of breath. Trying and failing to compose himself. They were crying, but he didn’t care. Not right now. Not in this moment. “Protect me, and change me.” He bit out, edging away from Metzli in case they tried to lift him again. How many times had his parents told him he was wrong? Broken, and damaged... How many times had they told him he had a problem, like they knew him better than he knew himself? They wanted Milo, the perfect, clean and sober son. The son who didn’t exist. Not Milo the disappointment, the son who only ever wanted to have a good time. Turning to face Metzli, he defiantly held their gaze, mustering all of his courage to do so. “I do know what that feels like. Not in the same way you do but that doesn’t make it any less valid.” He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by his mom, who was watching him with fresh tears shining in her eyes. She seemed oblivious to her colleagues, who were hovering nearby in case security needed to be called, politely making conversation among themselves to offer the family privacy.
“Milo, we don’t want to change you. We’ve never wanted to change you.” She begged him to believe her. “We only ever want you to be okay.” Glancing over to Metzli who had decided to put some distance between themself and the situation, he could see his mom’s heart break for this person she didn’t know. The maternal instinct in her wanting to wrap Metzli in her arms and offer them a loving, undeniably patronising support network. He shook his head, his throat dry, his chest tight. It wasn’t that simple, it was never that simple. Because his version of okay was very different to the version his mom and dad liked to discuss.
“I am okay.” He snapped, finally looking them both in the eye, his gaze shifting between his mom and his dad as they stared at him, looking as lost as he had ever seen them look.
“Milo…” His dad was hesitant to speak, overly aware of the crowd forming, and of Metzli still standing a few feet away from them. He could sense the situation was precarious, and he clearly didn’t want to make things worse. “We just want to get you help. That’s all we’ve ever wanted. Let us help you.”
There were those words again. Help. He needed help. Everything that had been building within him became amplified, he could hear every heart machine, every IV drip, every shuffle of paper, every cough, every sneeze. He could smell his dad’s cologne, his mom’s perfume, her hair products. Even their washing detergent was obvious, permeating the air, creating a thick haze of nostalgia, a childhood long left behind. His anger rose in his chest, raw, and hot, and before he knew what he was doing he was shouting as loud as he possibly could. “I DON’T NEED HELP!” It tore out of him, echoing against the sterile walls, and silence fell over the hospital wing. Finally nobody was able to pretend they hadn’t noticed the altercation. He felt tears break free to run down his cheeks, and looked around at the nurses and doctors who had known him since he was in diapers. How many of them had coloured in with him during their lunch breaks, or kept him entertained in their offices by playing I Spy while his mom and dad dealt with emergencies? How many of them used to babysit? Or carry him around on their shoulders, explaining different machines, and what they did to help their patients? What did they think of him now? Did they even recognise him as the same person? Intelligent, curious, determined to become a doctor when he grew up?
His breath coming in short gasps, he took one last look at his family, at the people who had raised him, before pushing past them, needing to get away from the heavy environment, the weight of so many eyes upon him. He didn’t know if Metzli was following him. Why would they? But he didn’t care enough to check.
Fists were balled into fists as Metzli continued to listen idly. Body shook with angry vibrations. For Milo to think that their experiences were even close to similar baffled them to the point of silence. What happened was an overreaction, and they knew that, but it was too late to take it back now. All there was to do was let the family have their not-so-private conversation while they waited a short distance away.
Hearing how the doctors spoke to their son made something form in their chest. Metzli felt jealous. They supposed that fueled their outburst as well—angry at how Milo treated what they had always wanted, what they could never have. At Milo’s snap, they grimaced, hearing the twinge of pain beat in his parent’s hearts. Being alive this long, they knew what despair sounded like within a heart.
Mrs. Summers’ heart rattled and beat erratically, playing off the fearful hurt she felt, while Mr. Summers’ heart pounded with anger that he failed his son. Everyone watched Milo walk away, and Metzli didn’t bother saying anything to him as he passed. Instead, they stepped up to Mrs. Summers, only looking at the ground to say, “I’m sorry, ma’am.” It was weak, soft, and laced with the tears that still fell from their eyes.
Without another word, Metzli turned and went after Milo, still silent as they reached the outside world. The only thing that could be heard was the crunching of gravel beneath hurried steps. “If you think those are bad parents, I’d hate for you to have had mine.” They said finally, with no emotion.
Milo lit a cigarette the moment he was outside, sucking down the smoke as though it could fix all of his problems. The cold night air stung at his cheeks, causing the tear tracks there to burn, and he relished in it. The physical sensations were a welcome distraction from his inner turmoil, though it didn’t take long for Metzli to catch up with him, and bring with them everything he was trying to run from. “I heard you!” He shouted, unable to help himself. He couldn’t lower his voice if he tried. “I heard you apologise to her- you had no right to do that!” He took another long drag, hands shaking with emotion. “Fuck you, Metzli. Fuck you and your bullshit!” He was pacing, almost frantic in his movements as he tried to work away the energy still tense in his muscles. The fear of Metzli punching him, or pushing him, or picking him up. The fear of his parents following him. The anger, and the hurt that radiated throughout his body as he thought about what had just taken place. Fresh tears spilled over, and he scrubbed them away with his sleeve. “I don’t think they’re bad parents! Sometimes they can be really fucking good parents, but you have no idea what they put me through- you can’t know!”
Unless they had lived through his own experiences, had to deal with the disappointment, the manipulation, the guilt trips, the interventions, the threats of rehab, the patronising talks, they couldn’t possibly understand why he was so upset. Why he longed to keep his family at a distance. He was doing so well. Metzli just had to ruin his progress by running into his mom. Why couldn’t they be more careful? If they had only watched where they were going then chances were he could have slipped away before his mom even realised he was in the same wing. “Fuck!” He kicked at a nearby can on the floor, listening to it as it clattered against the asphalt. “Just leave me alone, okay? I don’t have anything to say to you.”
Metzli couldn’t take it anymore, anger had fully peaked. A crushing blow to Milo’s cheek was made by their fist. He fell to the ground with a thud and his cigarette flew somewhere into the darkness. “What did they put you through? Getting you help because they don’t want to watch their son lose himself?” They crouched down next to Milo, a fire was lit in their eyes. “You know what my parents did? I got beat, everyday. And when they were done, I’d get put in the basement. For days. But hey, at least I got a single fucking meal a day, right?”
A shaky huff pushed through from their lungs as they continued to lock eyes with Milo. “Every day they told me how much they hated me and wished I wasn’t born because I ruined their life. And you’re bitching about your parents being worried about you? About trying to help you because they’re scared that you’re hurting yourself? God, Milo. Fuck you.”
Finally breaking away, they stood tall and took a few steps away from Milo, and towards their car. “They’re not even embarrassed of you. They don’t try to hide it, to hide you. But hey, fucking sucks that they have had you take some drug tests so that they could find the best way to love you and help you.” Metzli sneered and continued to walk, not looking back. “Text me when you stop acting like an asshole.”
A car door opened and then shut, followed by an engine turning over. Metzli peeled out, wanting to be rid of the situation. They needed a drink, straight from a body, any body.
Milo yelped in pain, and shock as Metzli’s fist connected with his cheek. Pain spread outwards from the site of impact as he hit the ground hard. Staying sprawled where he landed, gravel cutting into his palms, it took him far too long to process what was happening. Before he knew it, before he could even try to stand up, or take a breath to steady himself, Metzli was crouching before him, spitting venom alongside their words. He could feel their pain, feel how much they were hurting, but he wasn’t comparing their pain to his own. He was trying to show them there were a million ways to hurt. “I don’t have a problem.” He spoke through his teeth, his jaw firmly set as black blood began to drip from his nose. “I’m allowed to be angry, you don’t have the monopoly on this.” Metzli didn’t own familial trauma. Just because they had suffered in a very particular and terrible way, it didn’t mean he couldn’t also suffer. Why was that so difficult to understand?
Holding Metzli’s gaze as they made eye contact with him, he swallowed, reaching up to cuff at the blood now working its way into his mouth. It was cold, bland, and chalky. Nothing like the metallic warmth he was used to. Pulling his knees up to his chest as Metzli finally stood again, he tried to protect himself should they decide to kick him, but apparently he wasn’t worth the effort. His friend turned towards their car, talking over their shoulder as they walked away. Reaching out, he found his lost cigarette, and clumsily picked it up, staring at Metzli’s back as he took a deep breath of smoke. He wanted to say something, anything to make sure he had the final word, but he couldn’t make a sound. So he watched them leave, exhaling, letting the back of his throat burn to distract himself from dwelling on the fact that he felt about as helpless as his parents had looked. I don’t need help. He told himself. I don’t have a problem. The more he said the words, the easier they became to believe.
#you don't get it#milo and metzli#drug tw#addiction tw#abuse tw#physical abuse tw#emotional abuse tw#gaslighting tw#alcohol tw#hospital tw#wickedswriting
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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story
Chapter 1-19 LIGHT: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation [3rd Beta Test]
*Light and Night Master-list is under WIP
*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut
*Game is releasing in 7 days!!!
*Beta Test’s main story tag will be #Dreams of Light and Night
By the time I returned backstage, everyone was discussing where they should go to celebrate later.
MC: You guys go on without me. I’ll catch up once I’m done packing up here.
Gao Cheng nodded before leaving with Wu Yue and the others.
I headed back to the preparation room alone. It was definitely way more empty now, compared to all the hustle and bustle that had been going on during the contest.
❖☆———————————★❖
The room was unlit, with only the faint moonlight filtering in through the window, casting shadows on the ground.
Just as I was about to flick the lights on, I felt someone forcibly drag me towards a wall with astounding strength.
In the dark, I could see the figure of a man standing before me, tall and broad-shouldered.
The proximity of his breath was scorching as it brushed against my face.
??: Shh.
??: I won’t hurt you.
This voice, this familiar scent…
MC: Osborn!?
The man stiffened for a moment, retreating a couple of steps back. The moonlight filtered in from behind him, lighting up the darkness that was between us.
Surprise flickered through his eyes, but they soon returned to their normal expression.
Osborn: You again?
MC: What are you doing here?
Osborn: Got lost.
MC: …You’re lost?
Somehow, that sounds less credible than when he previously tried to find something he’d lost up on the roof.
Osborn: What? Don’t believe me again?
MC: Of course I don’t. You’re clearly hiding someth—
The smell of blood permeated my nostrils.
❖☆———————————★❖
Relying on the moonlight to see, I realized that he was currently lazily leaning against the wall. Gone was the arrogance I’d seen that day back on the rooftop.
He used a hand to remove the receiver from his ear while the other was braced against the floor. There was even a trail of blood on the side of his palm.
MC: You’re hurt?
❖☆———————————★❖
He didn’t reply to me, only sticking his hand into his pocket.
MC: You’re not going to bandage it?
Osborn: No need.
MC: ……
Strange person, a weird way of making an appearance, and a mysterious wound.
Everything about Osborn made it hard for me to understand him, but even so…
MC: Let me treat your wound.
I walked up to the front of my work table and rummaged around the cabinets for a while, but I couldn’t find anything I could use as a bandage.
Guess there’s nothing I can do about that, then…
All I could do was to find a dress, carefully removing the silk scarf that had been pinned to its neckline, and fishing out some cotton pads from the cabinet.
MC: Clean your wound first, then use this to bandage it up.
Osborn didn’t reach out for the materials. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.
Osborn: You made it?
MC: Mmhm. Why?
Osborn: It’s pretty beautiful. It’ll be a pity to use it as a makeshift bandage.
MC: It’s up to me to decide whether or not it’s a pity. Why are you worrying so much about it?
MC: It has already had its time to shine on stage. Using it as a bandage now is much better, and much more useful than merely shelving it.
He gave a slight start. Seeing as he wasn’t complaining, I took hold of his right hand and started bandaging it.
Osborn: Suddenly getting all bold now, are you? Not scared of me anymore?
MC: I wasn’t even scared of you, to begin with. And the last time was only because I thought you were a thief!
Osborn: Didn’t I just frighten you into a stupor earlier?
MC: You popped out of nowhere! Anyone would be scared by that!
A chuckle sounded overhead. He was chuckling so hard that even the hand I was bandaging started shaking slightly.
MC: Is this really that funny to you? Stop laughing at me.
Angrily tying the knot, I raise my head to glare straight into his eyes.
Those eyes of his, usually filled with such haughtiness, were now filled with a soft moonlit smile.
Osborn: Done?
MC: Yeah.
Osborn lifted his hand to have a look at my “handiwork” before giving a satisfied nod. However, his eyes suddenly turned hard and icy just a split second later.
He leaned down and pressed his index finger to my lips, signalling for me to keep quiet.
I unconsciously held my breath. I could feel the heat rising upwards, stemming from the warmth on my lips and spreading till even the tips of my ears were burning.
Thud, thud, thud.
The footsteps outside the door came closer and closer.
???: Where is the guy!? The bracelet is nearby!
???: Less talking, more working. We have to find it no matter what!
Bracelet? Are they talking about the one I saw up on the roof that day?
I remember Osborn saying that he was the one who lost it, but why does it sound like many people are stepping over each other to obtain it?
My brain was still calmly trying to rationalize things, yet my body couldn’t help but start trembling slightly as I leaned against the door.
A hand suddenly reached out and pulled me over. I frantically raised my head, only to feel something cold get stuffed into my mouth.
Lemon drops?
Osborn: Stop worrying, have a sweet.
The sweet and sour taste of the cool candy spread through my mouth, making me settle down quite a bit.
I didn’t know how long it was before the footsteps outside the door started getting further and further away, until we could hear them no longer.
And thus, this danger that sprung out of nowhere concluded in an equally inconclusive manner.
MC: …They’re gone.
Osborn: I know.
MC: Then, let me go!
Osborn: Oh? And what if I refuse?
His face suddenly got closer, and I could see the mischief in his eyes much more clearly.
Flustered, I struggled in his hold for a while before he was willing to let me go.
Osborn: Alright, I’ve got to go too.
MC: Remember to treat your wound properly when you get home. I only bandaged it.
Osborn: That concerned even for bad guys?
MC: And just which villain will openly call themselves a bad guy?
Osborn: Why wouldn’t there be one? I am.
He opened the door a crack. The light from the corridor shone in.
❖☆———————————★❖
The icy winds rushed in along with the sound of a large number of glass windows collectively shattering. I was so startled that my shoulders shrank backwards, only to be shepherded into a firm and solid embrace in the next moment.
My field of vision suddenly turned pitch black. I hadn’t yet processed what just happened when suddenly, all I could hear was the sound of Osborn’s heartbeat.
A strong and steady rhythm, blocking off all sounds of impending danger.
Osborn: Humph, looks like things are escalating now.
Footsteps accompanied by shouting could be heard from outside the window.
???: Found it! Over here!
Those people that were chasing him earlier actually went and broke the windows!?
Osborn released me, heading straight for the window.
MC: You’re going out!? Aren’t those people outside chasing you?
Osborn: You shouldn’t question things you aren’t meant to know.
Osborn: But, thank you for what you did just now.
He leapt, flipping himself out of the window and disappearing into the darkness outside.
I walked to the window. I could no longer see anyone there, but there was only a small lemon candy left sitting atop the windowsill in his wake.
❖☆————— ⊹ Dreams of Light & Night⊹ —————★❖
Previous Part: (Chapter 1-16) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-19 Night) / Chapter 1-20
#光与夜之恋#Light and Night#Otome#Translations#Tencent#萧逸#Osborn#齐司礼#Sariel#陆沉#Evan#查理苏#Charlie#夏鸣星#Jesse#Dreams of Light and Night
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