#because apparently the only result it could find where someone answered this question was a fandom wiki
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I know we all hate Fandom Wiki when it comes to it's usage as an actual wiki for various media because the website design is dog shit, but I feel like we need to at least respect it for it's role as a complete Wild West for 8 year olds on the internet to create elaborate fanons for their ideas about theoretical reboots and spinoffs and video game tie-ins of random kids shows. They're out there making full show bibles and scripts and 5 year business plans for their spin-offs of Fairly Oddparents and Veggietales for no one but themselves, just as god intended the internet to be used for. We need to design a better website for them to put this shit on because it's a shame that Fandom has a stranglehold on the market of entire wikis made exclusively for things that are entirely made up and only exist in the brains of like 3 random kids on the internet.
#i do not mean this to make fun of the children and adults who do this btw. live your best life.#but sometimes i stumble upon these things in Google search results and i go down a rabbit hole for hours just reading a random persons wiki#the only problem i have with it is that sometimes google will give me fandom wiki links as Real Search Results#which is usually fine if it's a popular wiki but sometimes it just gives me entirely made up shit#like the time i googled what the name of Timmy Turners dad was and it gave me what was basically a random name#because apparently the only result it could find where someone answered this question was a fandom wiki#for someone's deep and convoluted Fairly Oddparents theoretical reboot canon. like there were multiple show ideas and spinoffs#whole episode plots were written with episode counts and seasons and show development history#all of it entirely made up. did not exist in real life.#i respect the dedication but Google this is how misinformation spreads.
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Repeated symbols: Spirals
Staff Only page, Staff Only framing
I tried to do this as spirals, then Staff Only framing, but they are two great tastes that go together and apparently are tangled in my mind.
Spirals abound on the hidden staff only page. Given that we have no proof that Wally can manifest anything in the physical world, it means that someone in that building has been drawing these spirals.
The Question Answerer (QA) is a bit freaked out about this. The original spiral in this space appears to be the red notebook, which the QA has asked people not to write in, as it is an artifact or item provided by the Welcome Home Restoration Project (WHRP). At first, I was a bit confused about the difference between the two, because the WHRP is the group that has presented us with the website and the information we have so far (hence ghe focus on framing i keep having), including announcing that the QA will be participating.
So, the QA appears to have joined as a museum/archival professional that is building an exhibition for the WHRP, presumably because the team is jazzed about it, but also because they hope to find people who can remember the show.
We have two documents describing the first interactions with WH. The first appears to be from the first person on the WHRP, from the red notebook.
The interior of the book has some of Wally's drawings as the inside cover. Did patient zero put it there? (Courtesy of u/foxbrush_darazan on r/welcomehomearg)
So, patient zero is some kind of archivist? Why does their name not matter, why are they writing about it? It could be a journal entry, but who ends journal entries with xoxo? Text i can barely read, children's book, black goo. And including antiques?
Sounds an awful lot like the image they first interacted with was this image, though we would have to assume there were more pages, some of which included Wally:
Brightly colored envelope, is this delivered by Eddie? I think i read something about him traveling and not being able to remember where he has been. "The running joke often had him stating a place that did not exist, followed by an admission to misremembering it as a place he delivered to as opposed to a place he lived." Could this potentially be a result of traveling to other areas that he shouldn't be able to, or just forgetfulness and confusion caused by the black stuff?
The black stuff is present, and the paper appears to have been wet at one time, and we can assume this person also is now possessed or linked to all of the others through the black goo. I guess the end result isn't clear. They have potentially contracted whatever the QA has.
From the website, we learn that Patient Zero (PZ) is sharing thoughts that almost appear to be experienced on a subconscious level. These bits of text don't appear unless they are highlighted, like "it hurts" and "when i first...open, open, open." Is this something that the PZ is unconsciously adding to the discussion?
Back to spirals before I get totally derailed.
Staff Only Room:
So many spirals. Spirals everywhere.
I am not sure why I can't place where this one is from. I will return for him. It is pretty cool that you can see a lighter version of the drawing behind the red drawing.
This is a lightened version of the picture and the floor, with the colors adjusted. I mess around with the colors sometimes until I can see a good amount of detail. Throughout the Staff Only area, there are these spirals on paper. They are on the floor, and they are posted to walls. You can see some of the black sprinkled throughout on the paper. I can't see whether or not these spirals have the eye in the middle.
Here we can see some more of the set up, and more spirals. Color adjusted. The interesting thing here is the specific clarification that these items give us. The red notebook we have established as belonging to the WHRP, and here is further proof, as it is labeled "For Research! ON LOAN DO NOT WRITE IN >:("
But the book laid on top of it belongs to the Question Answerer. The image shows a question mark and a bubble with an A, with a note that reads "THIS ONE IS MINE ALSO FOR RESEARCH ALSO DO NOT WRITE IN" It really leads me to wonder what was written in the book. One would assume that they would have had to discovered writing that didn't belong to them in the book for this to be the case.
Is there any indication of how many people are working on this exhibit/team? The prevalence of notes to people, calling them jerks for using office equipment to punk them, makes you at least hope others are involved.
There are more spirals on papers tacked to walls and sprinkled on the floor throughout, but none out where the public could see it.
I think we'll save this one for the discussion of invisible writing.
So what do the scattered spirals mean? Why are they just left there scattered? Can the staff see them?
I think at this point, we can assume that the spirals are somehow operating on a less than conscious level. The spirals are coming out, but like in the case of the puppeteer parasite, people might not realize that they are riding along. Whatever is driving it, they have enough control, whether theirs or whatever is riding along, to keep the spirals in a contained area.
Another note on the spirals before I leave the spirals for a bit:
Later I want to explore the Staff Only area as a physical space, as well as discuss a potential popular culture reference that could inform the story quite a bit.
But hopefully, we will have a whole new set of things to obsess over soon!
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First post. No further elaboration. Coz why?
Just kidding. I am here to talk today....or to vent, more precisely.
JEE is hard. It's ridiculous. But what's even more ridiculous are the expectations, the burden of honor, and the fear of disappointment and despair ingrained into our values caused due to our inability to cope with the extraordinary expectations, after we get into the toppers group.
I worked hard to get into the 'good kids' group. Then I got demotivated after a single failure coz I'm fucking weak, and now am procrastinating.
"Plenty of people finished 11 and 12 in class 9 and 10. They only practice and take mock tests for the 2 years of secondary higher education. So if you don't atleast finish 12 within 11, you'll never crack JEE. And anything without IIT CSE is meaningless when you are in JEE." —Mom
"You can't even rank first in the small area that we live in? What are you gonna do in JEE where competition is at national level?" —Mom, after I scored 207/300 and ranked 6th at my local coaching centre in my first JEE Main Mock test with Kinematics, mole concept, periodic table, trigonometry as topics.
And the thing is, I can't even protest her words, after all, the 1st rank scored 264 and the 2nd rank scored 246. With such a huge difference, I can't even argue. Since more is expected from me as I am supposedly a kid who is wasting away my potential as a someone who can become a JEE top ranker.
"What? You only answered 252? You couldn't even answer 300? You know right how much your marks will be considering your poor 90% accuracy rate? It will go down to minimum of 220s. I am quite disappointed."
This is the 2nd mock test I am talking about, the result hasn't been declared yet. But this exam was said to be especially hard with the insanely tough maths section and mid hard chem questions. The 1st ranker dude from last time answered 230s this time, and the 2nd ranker answered 256. The 3rd ranker, who is actually one of the best prospect in our entire class 11 batch in the whole state, answered 284 but he's quite sad because apparently he will get a lot of negatives. I am expecting 3rd or 2nd rank this time but I think life's gonna gimme lemons as always.
This is what I go through as a JEE aspirant. It wasn't supposed to be this hard. It's toxic at this point. I am in a rat race that I can't even escape like in other countries, considering even self help opportunities such as working at fast food chains or something, for minors here are considered trash of the society. We aren't free here, we don't have the opportunity to experience the world and explore my options to find out what I am good at. There's only three options. Doctor, engineer, lawyer. This might sound funny because of the stereotype vids on YouTube about Asians. But it's not funny. Many of us can't handle the pressure and commit suicide. Kota, a city in Rajasthan known for being a hotspot of coaching centres, is also stereotyped for being the Indian version of Japan's suicide forest, except it's exclusively for kids. Others go to depression and fall into the abyss of gambling and drugs.
The education system here has lost it's purpose. It has become an elitist system where the only way of survival is either your own talent or your backing. If you don't have either, you're better off being a lowest ranking member of the society succumbing to the higher ranks.
1:46 AM in the morning, I am sitting here writing this post thinking if anybody could say something that would turn my life around. This is more of a silent cry for help instead of something new to share with the world. I am sitting here in vain thinking there might be some magic trick to success here when I deep down know there doesn't exist one. And thus, I fall into this deep rabbit hole, all in my know. I want to stop this spiraling vortex of abyss inside myself that is erasing my existence. But I'm not trying. It's as if I have been mentally and spiritually paralysed.
I have realised something as conclusion. Life is drowning in reality, but the hellish standards that we have here in India are the sandbags that are tied to our feet in this already suffocative water, with no end of depth, we keep drowning and going deeper and deeper. I'm not happy. I want to break out. But I can't. This is painful. I hope it stops. But again, I know it won't, resulting in only pushing myself deeper into the abyss because of my hope being shattered. Hope is becoming dangerous by the day for me.
Am I the only one?
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I will often tell people to write casting calls with intention, which I realize is a rather opaque phrase. What does casting with intention mean?
Well I, uh, wrote a lot about it.
Let’s say you have and audio drama with some male characters, some female characters, and a robot that has a human voice but is not human (the robot uses it/its pronouns because it is an object). You split up the roles in your casting call to “male roles” and “female roles” and then… where does this robot go? Maybe you think to yourself, I’ve always pictured this robot with a male voice. Let’s put it in the male roles section and be done.
When I say “cast with intention” I mean to question your expectations and assumptions and look critically at what sort of voices you want for each character. There is no singular right way to do so this, so I’m going to take this example and discuss different ways to cast with intention.
First of all, something is apparent. In this situation, there are no nonbinary roles. Every role is either a cis man or a cis woman — not necessarily bad, but in this situation the robot has even been assigned to the “male” category. Why is that, I ask? So you might think, yeah, I’m not actually attached to this robot having a male voice. Let’s make this a nonbinary role.
And now you’ve accidentally stumbled into a trope! Lots of creators have made non-human characters (like aliens, robots, or monsters) and decided that the gender binary need not apply only to these characters. Nonbinary people are tired of the implications that you can’t be human and nonbinary, so that’s not a great thing to do. If you’re going to create a “Nonbinary Roles” section for this robot, it would be a good thing to have some nonbinary humans there as well.
But if this robot could have any voice, why not make it a open role? And while you’re at it, why not look at the other human characters and see if any of them could be open roles too. There are a lot of scenarios where you want a character to have a specific gender, and what casting with intention means is looking at what you have for each of them and thinking about why you decided that gender for the character. Is someone female because you wanted to show a woman in tech being an awesome scientist? Cool! Is someone male because they’re the CEO and you just thought the CEO should be male? Less cool! That CEO could probably be a role with open casting. Or maybe, you thought of a really interesting angle for the story if that CEO is nonbinary, or transmasc, or a cis woman — also great! Being intentional about your roles doesn’t mean making them all open casting, it means having a reason why you’re looking for a certain voice (or set of voices) or each one.
For example, what if this robot started the show as genderless and inhuman, but grew over time to connect more with humanity? What people start using he/him for this robot instead of it/its as they get to know it better and started to think of him as a friend? I think that would be really compelling! That might be a good reason for the robot to be listed under “Male Roles” (though, of course, the question of “why not she/her pronouns?” is there still and should be something you can answer — maybe you want to be different than robots and AIs like Siri or Cortana, which are usually voiced by women.)
There is absolutely no one correct way to cast with intention — the whole idea is about the process, not the result. When you list a role in a casting call, take a moment to think about why you’ve written each piece of information you give about the character and the voice you want. You might find that you’re artificially limiting yourself from telling more interesting stories and casting more diverse actors.
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Okay, here's a Star Wars AU question for you:
Let's say that a year or two after Anakin is taken in by the Jedi, his biological father (I know that he's apparently not supposed to have one in canon, but I don't buy that, so humor me here) or someone else from his family shows up and manages to get him away from the Jedi and Palpatine, pick up Shmi from Tatooine, and take them both home. They give Anakin lots of love, all the therapy that he can get, a healthy environment to grow up in, good principles to live by, and much more leisure than he's ever been given. Do you think that his heart would then still be stuck on Padmé by the time he reached the age of majority or would he have gotten over her because of the different upbringing and development that he's gone through?
I look forward to seeing your answer.
Well, in the rather unlikely scenario that the Jedi give Anakin up while he is only partially trained, I do still think Anakin and Padme would end up together.
I think Anakin having a stable, healthier upbringing would benefit their relationship immensely. However, I’ve never believed that they didn’t love each other or weren’t suited for each other. The circumstances of their relationship were simply difficult.
Anakin loved Padme for a great many reasons. One of them is that she is the sort of person to be Queen and still care about a slave boy, or listen to a Gungan. That’s not going to change just because he had a happier and healthier upbringing. That is an admirable quality he sees in her regardless. (And he’ll remain stuck on her also because through the Force he knows she’s important too. Why look elsewhere when you just know?)
I believe that Anakin and Padme are soulmates. I find it hard to picture an au where they don’t end up together. Anakin in any universe is going to make waves either because he’s freeing the slaves, or becoming a champion pod racer, or being scooped up and trained, for better or worse, due to his strength in the Force etc. Likewise, Padme is also trying to fix the system and make things better. And they both are from the Outer Rim. (Technically Naboo is Mid Rim but it’s a technicality.) Their actions are inevitably going to result in an encounter at some point. These two are going to meet and fall in love. In my mind, it’s inevitable.
What Anakin having a better childhood changes is that he feels more secure in his relationship with Padme. First of all, they don’t have to hide it. Secondly, Anakin is more secure in himself, and therefore less deferential to Padme. They are able to communicate better. Anakin and Padme were just growing into their potential as a couple when things fall apart in RotS.
So in the AU you suggest, I could see their relationship being easier and their communication being stronger. But I don’t think for a second that Anakin and Padme will be anything other than Anakin and Padme. They’ll just have more security in their relationship.
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LIiveblogging TMA - Season 1 - MAG 12-15
"Looking closer, I saw that they were eyes. Small, tattooed eyes on every one of his joints: his knees, his elbows and even his knuckles, as well as just over his heart."
FIRST AID :
Lots of eyes here. And one Gerard Keay.
...
Oh boy.
~~~~~~~~~~
I have, quite frankly, not much to say about this one. We have the comeback of Gerard, who is as suspicious as the first time around, as well as another suspicious guy that spoke in tongues and in temperatures, apparently.
We learned very little about anything anywhere, but I speculate that whatever had happened probably had to do with the Leitner that Gerard lost. I feel like he wouldn't be forthcoming were he to be summoned at the institute.
Not even because he's dead, as we have seen that even death isn't enough to keep a Keay to stop from being walking red flags of supernatural forces, but just because he doesn't seem like the type of guy to willingly offer any kind of explanation to anything.
Does Jonathan actually think this man is dead ? Come on.
I do have question about the eyes obsession though.
Wonder where that'll lead us to.
Next up, we FINALLY meet another character !
... Which is kind of ironic considering the title.
ALONE :
Oh.
Oh my.
Oh this one legitimately scared me. This was beautiful. I love Jonathan's narration, of course, but hearing it directly from the people making the statement gives it another dimension altogether.
Finally hearing Jonathan interact with someone shed light to more of his character, alight that I quite needed. It is one thing to hear him monologuing, it is another to hear him talk to someone.
I feel sorry for Naomi though. She was obviously desperate, and trying to find closure, answers, anything that would be able to explain that she wasn't crazy. Of course, Jonathan just had to be a hard ass about it, didn't he ?
The man has some decency, as was shown by his willingness to let her start at her own pace and give her space if needed be, but he also wouldn't recognize deliacy if it stabed him in the chest.
Skepticism or not, proofs or not, don't tell a woman grieving and in distress that she should get therapy and that she maybe dreamed it all.
I liked the insight into the reputation of the institute at the beginning. Even to other paranormal investigators, the world at large seems to think of it as a joke. If such is the result of their work, than I have to wonder what the institute does, and how does it do it.
Onto the statement itself, the isolation was felt, and quite clearly at that. This would ... Probably be one of my own nightmares, of the kind I wouldn't actually enjoy having. Naomi was the person I related to the most out of everyone, and her story telling was captivating.
For the mystery, there were two presented here. The family of her deceased fiancé, and whatever shady cult business they have, as well as the ... Other place.
For the family, we had only too little details to make any kind of statement on them, other than the fact that they are, to myself at least, quite suspicious.
As for the other thing ...
I guess we could say that Naomi got herself trapped in a liminal space, cut off from reality. When she got there, it is anyone's guess, but I guess we could consider it the space for the dead, if we take literally the fact that her fiancé helped her get out despite his, erm ... Situation.
The fog was an antagonist all on its own, and you have to wonder on what would it get out of burrying Naomi into her own loneliness.
I don't quite know how turning left managed to get her out, but should we ever get ourselves into such a situation, then I guess that this is an advice to keep in mind.
Just in case.
PIECEMEAL :
"I know that that’s how I lost the hand. I know I chewed it off."
Today on TMA : An absolute asshole of a narrator, that deserved whatever he had coming, wicked deals, and cannibalism. What's not to love ?
Guess that when you hire a curse, you should actually be patient. Gruesome way to go, but again. Deserved.
And so, this Angela woman and her jiggsaw horror are the mystery of the hour !
I am guessing it is kind of a contract between her and an oddity that likes to make puzzles out of humans. Of course, when the original target of the curse got eliminated before the natural end, it had to backfire on the one who placed the hit.
There wasn't much mystery here, but I am very intrigued by the idea of oddities and humans working together, in a contractual relationship. Angela obviously received protection from this, of the moment she offered sacrifices/entertainment, and so I don't think she had anything to lose in this situation, which has been quite rare so far.
The only one I remember being human and not receiving any penalty from the power around him was The Dreamer. Could it be that he has such a relationship with an oddity ? But what would the oddity gain from that, if so.
Did Leitner used the same process when he made his library ? The books aren't simply book of spells or folklore, each and everyone of them has an ability, as if something was sealed inside it, a power. Could this guy have made contracts with several oddities then, and sealed the reward into a book ?
Probably not, but it's been a whle since we haven't heard of those books, and I can't stop questionning everything about their existence.
All in all, solid episode. Nice to see an asshole getting his comeuppance, who even goes after grandmas ? Psycho. That man should've gotten some anger management classes, but then, he wouldn't have been half as entertaining to read about.
Much needed epsiode after the heaviness of the last, the one that is to come.
I, uh ...
I do not like caves. And Johns never get anything good coming to them, so this title is kind of worrying me.
LOST JOHN'S CAVE :
"As I turned away, she asked me how lost I was in a low, grating voice."
Mh, yep, I was RIGHT, this was horryfying. First statement that got me stressed enough to actually do something on my screen rather than reading the transcripts as I listen to the audio.
This was ... Upsetting. I never went cave diving myself, and am not particularly claustrophobic, but the ambience created here was so heavy that I have trouble breathing.
I have no idea about the mystery, this time around. The theme of loneliness has certainly followed from "Alone", and the ambience has just made me think of it again. Another liminal space, perhaps. This one much more active in its maiming then the field and its fog.
The addition of the recording at the end really sealed the deal, to make of this episode the scariest one in the series thus far, at least to me.
You can hear the desperation, the fear, as Laura waits for her death, but prays not to be the one to die, offering her sister in sacrifice to the caves that she so used to love. For two hours, begging to take her sister, and not herself, as she lies there, stuck, blind and suffocating.
I have never quite understood the people that liked burrowing themselves underground, and this episode certainly hasn't changed my mind on the practice.
I can still feel the stiffness that this statement provoked in me, the rigidity of my shoulders and my neck, that refuse to relax, as the words of this recording echos through my mind.
Congratulation on the sound design and composition, I could feel my anxiety spike at every "clunk" that resonated. Going at an all time high with the quote above.
I wonder if she lied, or if she genuinely forgotten. Would be a first to get a lie, even the seasoned criminal was truthful about everything, for whatever reason, so I am assuming that there was something interfering with her memories.
I don't blame Laura, for what it's worth. Sure, she seems to score quite low in the esteem of our dear Archivist, especially after he heard the recording, but I do not think many would do anything else in this situation, to be honnest. It is easy to look down on her and think that that wouldn't have been you, not if it were someone important to you.
But the truth is, you never know until you are there. So, let's all pray to never get there ourselves.
The quote of the post will be :
"Were we the children stolen from their parents by The Piper’s tune? Or were we the rats that were led to the river and drowned because they ate too much of the wealthy’s grain."
End Liveblogging.
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We all so desperately wish we were loved, do we not? You in particular crave for it to return, to birth it, to feel it. Maybe such a thing is easier said than done. You recieve a knock at the door. It is delicate, almost timid. When you open it to greet the guest you can see why. The knock belonged to a tiny hand. At your doorstep is a young girl, six or seven years old at least. She looks up at you from behind her scraggly black bangs with wide eyes. In the light you cannot tell what color they truly are but they glisten like two black stars, small flecks of gold among them. “May I come in? I’m hungry.” Her small voice whispers.
OOC // Your wish has been fulfilled. The result of this wish will have echoes throughout your character’s journey. Answer the submit with your character’s reaction to the result; doing so will count for activity.
The knock at the door surprised her a little bit. She was not expecting visitors and was not dressed for them either. Her comfort clothes - a hoodie that belonged to her ex and pants that were too big for her were certainly not the appropriate outfit to receive anyone at her home. But there she was, opening the door regardless of who could it be, finding a very young little girl staring at her from the other side. The whisper almost melt her heart, the way her words echoed on the hallway making Sunhee crave for one of her own, a little girl who would call her mom and would allow her to love as much as she needs to. “Where are your parents? Are you alone?” She asked as she looked around, no one around that could claim this girl was theirs.
She didn’t have time to wait for an answer, the little girl entering her home and going straight to the kitchen. “Sure, come on in” Sunhee said with a chuckle, following the girl and looking for some bread “I’ll make you a sandwich but you know, you should never walk into a stranger’s house, you’re lucky it’s me but not every person is nice, you need to be more careful” And Sunhee knew she couldn’t just keep an unknown girl in her apartment. Wasn’t that kidnapping? She finished the sandwich in silence since the girl seemed to enjoy not answering her questions and as she gave it to her she looked at her fondly. “Your parents must be looking for you, they must be worried” She said, adding a glass of milk to the meal. “I know someone at the police station, we should go there, he’s a good man, he’ll know what to do”
And as she said, after she made sure the girl had enough to eat, she took her to the police station. During the drive there she found out she was only six years old and responded to the name of Stella, and the more she talked to her the more she fell in love with her. Because kids were so easy to love, so easy to make smile, so easy to warm up your heart. Once in the station there was a part of Sunhee that did not want to let this girl go.
Apparently Daejung’s shift was over, but a female police officer helped her with her inquire. There were no complaints of missing children, it was like this girl literally showed up out of nowhere. But what could they do? Send her to an orphanage until someone decided to look for Stella? Sunhee wanted to keep her, to offer herself as her custodian until they found her parents, but how could she do that when she worked every night until 5 am or more? She would “keep” the girl only to not see her at all. This frustrated her because she wanted to be a mom so hard, yet with her current life style it seemed impossible. “Don’t worry, she’ll be sent to a foster home, they’re nice people, they will care for her until we find her parents and we will find them, I promise” It didn’t make her feel any better, if only she felt more depressed than any other day. Stella deserved more than a foster home but Sunhee was starting to realize she was not what Stella needed, even when she tried to convince herself that she was, Sunhee was just not apt to the task.
#encounter001#this was the hardest thing ever#like seriously#how to break Em in 10 lines#also totally name dropping daejung's name bc of reasons#now im sad#this is not how i expected this to go#she was gonna keep her
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Hey, I think your classpecting blog is really cool, and I especially find the fact that you give classpecting analyses to be the coolest part! As a result, I was wondering if you could give me one too? (Also, if I wrote too much, I apologise.) If you do so, thank you in advance!
From, ♦️🧡🟨
What are your interests/hobbies?
I have several of them. They include:
- Creating many forms of 2D art and animation, such as digital art, watercolour painting, and gouache painting.
- Producing music (but I don't take it as seriously as my art, so I'm not well-versed or experienced with it).
- Playing video games. My favourite ones are either story-focused, or those that pose a challenge that I find riveting.
- Listening to music. I enjoy trying to introduce myself to as many new albums and EPs as I can, especially while drawing.
That's not all of my interests, but those are ones I am the most emotionally invested in.
How do you see yourself?
I'll be honest about this one: it's not in the best light.
I tend to see myself as a weak and incompetent person trying so hard to prove they are anything but, especially by being incredibly self-reliant, even in times where deep down, I want to be helped yet I feel undeserving of it.
I also tend to have really intense emotions, and can act recklessly based on them if they are left unchecked. This is something that I've learned through several occasions that it isn't a good thing, so I try my best to not be so emotionally intense. This goes to the point where I just straight up repress my emotions and act very aloof and passive most of the time due to this. Still, there are times where I will snap (especially when no one is around to see it).
Though, I guess one good thing I see in myself is that I like helping people. I'm trying not to be cheesy about this, but I try to go out of my way to help others, especially those I care about to show them exactly that. Even if I constantly feel a disconnect from other people, I still care about those I choose to let into my life. Other than that, I actually suck at showing people that I care about them, either by acting too standoffish or by being too annoying about it.
In the end, I feel like a being who tries their hardest to prove that they are enough of a human to be worthy of acceptance from others.
How do you think others see you?
This is a tough one, but I'll try to answer it anyway.
Apparently, people see me as someone worth admiring. I would say this is especially due to the artwork I create and the knowledge I am willing to provide, especially about matters relating to art.
However, those closer to me often see me as cute and innocent, with a side of sass and bluntness that somehow manages to coexist with it. Though, I do worry about being seen as innocent because even though I know it's a way of acting that I took on to try to avoid conflict, it makes me feel like I can't be taken as seriously when I feel like I need to be.
Back to the question, I feel as if to most people, I'm only worth perceiving because of what I do rather than who I am. In fact, I only managed to acquire the friends that I currently have because "I was helpful". Now that I think about it, I was literally told that everybody liked me, and even though I tend to doubt it, I try to not let it get in the way of things because I care about them and I don't want to drag them down with me. That and I prefer being private about myself, especially when it comes to my interests. Still, It's stuff like this that makes me question and overthink it all when people see me as a worthy person to admire or care about, so I constantly strive to do what I can to prove myself wrong by not disappointing them.
How do you interact with your friends?
As stated earlier, I am a passive and aloof person, and I can safely draw this conclusion due to how I interact with my friends.
I care about my friends in ways that feel difficult for me to show to them. I try to do what I can for them to get the message across, but it never seems like it's enough. Sometimes, I might even break my own strict set of rules for my own behaviour to fulfill favours for them.
Most of the time, I don't often start or participate in conversation; I'm often just listening. Occasionally, I might throw in remarks here in there, and on occasion, they're accidentally funny enough to make around half the group laugh. But on other occasions, these remarks might end up starting conversations that my friends themselves seem to participate in, giving me more to listen to. What I'm basically saying is that I'm the quiet friend who doesn't really contribute much and is occasionally funny, especially by accident.
However, they don't really seem to come to me about any deep emotional stuff, yet they'll come to each other for that. I guess I can blame how shallow I seem from an emotional standpoint, and how scared I feel to even talk about anything like that. Due to this, when I feel absolutely stressed or unneeded, I isolate myself from them to deal with things by myself, only to come back when I'm sure I feel okay again.
What’s important to you? (Specific people, ideas, morals, objects, ect.)
Having good interpersonal relationships is something that I consider to be important. Sure, I might want my own space for a good amount of the time, but I still want to be with people. Unfortunately, having this sort of thing is difficult to achieve, let alone maintain from my perspective.
Being able to do what I want to is also something I consider very important. In fact, I spent a good amount of my life chasing the dream of becoming an artist who can live off their work. Such a dream (along with other things) has also made me into a sort of "black sheep" in my family, in that in trying to chase it, I stubbornly refused to take up any interests that older family members had. For reasons I won't get into, this ended up being a good thing.
Being a good person is also something I see as important. I especially feel this way due to realising that there was a point in life where I lost a group of friends I had from being a toxic person. I still find it hard to forgive myself for that because being a toxic person was the thing that I never wanted to be at all. So naturally, I try everything I can to do better than that.
Describe the ideal you, what kind of person do you strive to be?
There's so much I want to be in life, and even though I don't feel sure that I can achieve it all, I try anyway. I want to know how to settle down with and connect to other people, mostly because I know from a rational standpoint that I shouldn't keep relying on myself for everything I could ever want, even though I continue to do so anyway out of fear. I wish I could feel in control of myself, and that especially shows through how I try to get a handle on my feelings by isolating myself. I also want to be an emotionally and mentally strong person, so that I can be more helpful to people in even more ways that don't just involve my knowledge and skill with art.
Hi, thanks for the compliment! I'm always happy to do a request
Aspects: Space, Void, Mind
Classes: Rogue, Sylph, Knight
Out of these, I think that Rogue of Space, Sylph of Void, or Knight of Mind would suit you best!
Hope this helps!
#homestuck#classpect#classpecting#asks#requests#anon#rogue of space#sylph of void#knight of mind#rogue#sylph#knight#space#void#mind
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✎ last two kids on earth
↳ Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader
꒰ Word Count: 1.9k
꒰ Tw: mentions of death
꒰ Notes: i think it’s pretty obvious what this oneshot’s about from the title lmao- (a bit ooc lmao)
Year: The Future. Apparently.
Five didn’t know how long he was walking for, wandering this- this nightmare! He wanted to go back, back to 2006, where he belonged.
But there he was, standing all alone in the future. A shell of a 13-year-old boy. He had no where to go, no place to call home anymore, his past home destroyed by whatever had happened.
In fact, everything was gone, destroyed, every person he saw was lying in a pile of rubble, dead as a doornail, as Charles Dickens would say.
If only he had listened, listened to his fathers warnings, he wouldn’t be here right now. Alone.
Five kicked a rock out of his way, still searching frantically for any signs of life, even though he knew, after hours of searching, he wouldn’t find anything.
All he had was a newspaper in his hands, but it showed nothing but the date. April 1st, 2019. The day the world ended.
Everywhere he ran to, it had came to the same results, nothing, absolutely nothing.
By then, he had already accepted his fate, he knew he was stuck here, he might as well get accustomed to this new life.
But where would he start?
He could go anywhere, anywhere he wanted, yet, he still had no clue. To be entirely honest, he wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, unlike the usual Five.
“What the fuck happened...” he mumbled to himself, running his hands through his hair, as though it would give an answer.
However, he was not expecting a sudden voice, something he thought he’d never hear again.
“An apocalypse”
“What?!” he turned around, putting his fists up for defence, whoever this person was, he knew he could take down.
Someone- a girl, around the same age as Five, stood a few meters behind him, her h/c hair tied in a pony tail. All things aside, she looked as confused as he did.
She moved closer, as if inspecting Five, “An Apocalypse” she repeated, this time slower.
“Like- like a zombie apocalypse?” His first thoughts were his fathers words, ‘one day you’ll fight an apocalypse’ but didn’t he just say that to scare him and his siblings to do the dishes?
Did his words actually mean something?
“No, it’s a code word for the end of the world, they just named it that, I suppose” she spoke slowly, eye brows raised, “Anyways, put that aside, I’m Y/n, what’s your name?”
“Five” he replied quickly, “But what do you mean by end of the world? Like what happened? What the hell?”
“Odd name” Apparently- Y/n- observed, smiling the tiniest bit, “Sorry, is this awkward? I haven’t seen a human in months”
“Answer the question”
“Jesus, alright, I don’t know much, I’m just here because some shit scientists decided I’d be a good fit to Time Travel into the future” she said, “And then they fucked it up and I’m stuck here now”
“And?”
“And that no one knows what happened, or what caused it but, everyone’s dead” she finished.
Five scoffed, “Wow, that helps a lot”
“Hey, at least you’re not alone” Y/n pointed out, “We should probably stick together, it would be better for us”
Even thought Five was quite suspicious of this “Y/n” person, he didn’t have anything to say against it. She was right, staying together would be a good idea.
“Fine, but tell me more”
»»---------------------►
The time passed by fast, everyday, the two made progress. Found shelter, got food, etc, soon enough, Five had even (almost) forgot about his life before.
Well of course, he never forgot his family, he wanted to get out of here, but again, he wouldn’t wand to leave Y/n.
They had grown close over the months, maybe even years. By the 56th day, they had stopped counting how long they’d been here.
He stopped to think about it, maybe there was a way home, he just hadn’t thought about it. The thought of it made him confused.
It seemed impossible.
But if he could, would he bring Y/n home with him? Introduce him to his siblings, his family? That sounded great, but would Y/n want to go with him?
“Hey” Five looked up, his eyes meeting Y/n’s e/c ones, “You good? You’re starting to scare me, staring into the oblivion”
He waited a beat, “If I could get us out of here, would you go home with me?” he blurted out suddenly.
“Why do you ask?” Y/n inquired, sitting down next to Five, “Did you figure out a way to get out of this hell hole?!”
“Well- no, not yet, but I will, sooner or later” he said, scribbling down something on a scrap of paper, “Just answer the question”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she laughed, “Of course I’d come with you, kind of a stupid question for a genius like you”
“Shut up”
“But seriously, why’d you ask?” Y/n questioned, “You never told me how you got here”
Five titled his head, “Or right, I might’ve forgot the mention it” However, he didn’t say anything else.
“You’re not going to elaborate on that?”
“It has to do with my dysfunctional family” He had expressed some distaste for his family to Y/n, yet at that moment, no matter how much he hated them at times, he missed them.
“I had my run with family’s too” Y/n finally said, cutting the tense silence, “Well to be fair, I didn’t really have a family”
Five didn’t say anything, he just stared back, wanting to know more, “Didn’t?”
“My mom died giving birth to me, which is kind of stupid because it’s not like I was born in the 18th century” she paused, “And my dad, well, he never really liked me”
“Oh shit”
“Yeah” Y/n looked away, fiddeling with a strand of her hair, “So I ran away when I was 8, was found by a scientist, he was my only parent figure”
He thought about it, the day they had met, Y/n mentioned how she was here because of a failed science experiment, “Does this have to do with why you’re here?”
“Yeah, I guess, you could say that” Five waited for more “But he loved me like I was his own daughter, he loved me more then my own fucking parents did”
The sudden bitterness in her voice took Five by surprise, Y/n almost always spoke in a pleased tone, as if nothing effected her.
She suddenly stood up, her eyes peeled to the ground. “Are you...crying?” Five asked, standing along side her.
“No” Thought she obviously was, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, “Dust allergies”
Five decided it was best not to reply to that. She slowly shuffled away, fading into the sunset.
»»---------------------►
45 years.
45 fucking years in the shitty future, 45 years of up’s and downs, and somehow, Five and Y/n were still together, seperated not even once.
An unexpected friendship slowly bloomed into a relationship, Five sometimes, in the middle of the night, as he slowly drifted off, wondered what life would be like if he hadn’t bumped into Y/n.
He thought of the loneliness, and those nights when he felt like the entire world was in his hands.
He wondered what he’d do without Y/n, she was there with him the entire time. The time when the Commission contacted them, when they started working for the Handler, their first kiss.
It was all mere memories now, slowly fading away in the back of his head. He still thought about his family sometimes, and all this time, had been trying to get back, and bring Y/n along with him.
And that day came, it came after 45 years of searching for answers. He finally found it.
He was going home, the place where he belonged.
And he knew how he exactly was going to do this. The Handler gave him a job- kill John F. Kennedy, the President.
But the thing is, he wasn’t going to do it. That day, he made sure Y/n was along side him, though quite confused, Y/n didn’t say anything against it.
There he was, behind a fence, with Y/n. He pulled out the sniper, assembling just as the President turned the corner.
The thing is, he didn’t load it, he pretended to, for Y/n’s sake, and pretended to be aiming for the President’s head, when suddenly, to Y/n’s surprise, dropped the gun, and pulled out something out of his suit.
It was a copy of Extra Ordinary, Five’s sister had apparently written. He muttered to himself, flipping the pages to find his equation, whilst, Y/n stood there, waiting for him to speak up.
“Hello? Are you going to tell me what’s going on, Hargreeves?”
He drew in a breath, a ghost of a smile pressed upon his lips. “I found a way home, Y/n. We can go back, you can meet my family, it’ll be just like before, but better”
“What”
“I figured it out” he said, there was a moment of silence, when suddenly- as if out of thin air, a blue-tinted portal lit up in the middle of a parking lot.
Y/n jumped back, her eyes moving from Five, to the portal. “I- Five...”
Her voice trailed off as Five stepped closer, looking at her, “Come on! We don’t have long, it’ll close soon!”
“I can’t go with you”
A beat.
Five stared, in shock, it felt like a punch in the gut. Wasn’t this what they wanted this whole time? To get home?
“I- I belong here, Five, I can’t leave” her voice was weak, barely audible. “You go, please, leave me here”
“Look I don’t know what’s going through your head, but it needs to stop! Come on, you said we didn’t belong here!”
“Five...” Y/n mumbled, “Please, go, go see your family, my family’s probably dead already! If you- if you find a legal way to see me again, do that! Just-”
The portal slowly grew smaller, thought suddenly, a fire extinguisher flew out of the portal, barely missing Y/n’s head, “What the-”
Five looked around, and sighed, he knew there was no arguing with Y/n. She was stubborn. But he didn’t want to leave her here, what would the Commission do to her when they figured out Five was missing?
“Please”
That was the final straw, He leaned closer to the portal, looking away, “Fine, but one day, I’ll be back to find you, alright? Stay around here, don’t leave, I’ll come back for you, one way or another”
Y/n grinned, “of course, old man”
Five shook his head in annoyance as he took one last look, one last look before he was out of here, but he didn’t feel happy.
In fact, it felt almost... sad, these 45 years, being here had grown on him, “I love you”
“I love you too, Five”
That was the last words Y/n said to him, as Five jumped into the portal. Y/n watched as he slowly faded away, a tear trickling down her cheek.
She whispered 6 last words, even thought she knew Five couldn’t hear her “One day I’ll see you again”
And then she left.
#alice writes#tua#umbrella academy#the umbrella academy#five hargreeves#five#five x reader#five hargreeves x reader#fanfic#luther hargreeves#diego hargreeves#allison hargreeves#vanya hargreeves#ben hargreeves#klaus hargreeves#tua fandom#tua x reader#yn#x reader#aidan gallagher
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Hello Faulty-san! Could I request Tenya x reader where Tenya is jealous drunk? It could be a reunion class outing and reader and someone who has a interest in them are talking and stuff and Tenya gets jealous?
Reader and Tenya are not a establish relationship, yet.
😉😉😉
[ Ah yes, hello my dear coleluuviida. I trust you are well. So...funny story, I read this request completely wrong at first because I thought you meant he literally gets 'drunk' and I was like 'There's no way Tenya would get drunk' but then I reread it and I was like 'OH they meant it this way' so as you can see, I apparently can't read English. BUT I love the idea of a jealous Tenya, fuck yes! ]
It seemed only yesterday you were walking through the halls of Yuuei High, dreaming of what it would be like to finally graduate as a successful hero. But even after doing so you kept in contact with several of your classmates, you even visited a few at their agencies or had lunch with them.
Tenya or 'Ingenium' was one of the mentioned few and on occasion, you'd find yourself having dinner with him. You didn't mind spending time with him but you wondered if he did this with any of your other previous classmates.
"I am rather grateful you accepted my invitation to dinner, it's quite a relief to be able to spend time with you after a productive day of heroic duties. Forgive me for inquiring but have you received word of Yuuei's class reunion?" you were somewhat confused by Tenya's reaction when you informed him that Ashido had already told you and that you had planned to go to the reunion with her.
Ashido helped you prepare for the event and made it a point to mention that a certain attractive hero would be waiting for you at the party. At first, you didn't believe her until you arrived and she proceeded to shove you into someone's arms and it was this same person who decided to drag you to the dance floor.
When Tenya asked about your whereabouts and was informed someone else had taken you away, against his better judgment he sought to interfere. "Pardon," he stated as he approached you and the opposite party. "I would favor having a moment of your dance partner's time," he said, somewhat forcefully pulling you away.
"Um Iida, are you okay?" Izuku asked when the reunion games began and he proceeded to glare daggers at the same mysterious stranger who had entangled you in their arms earlier. "I am content..." Tenya replied with a small snarl before the game started and he disregarded the set rules in order to snatch you away once more.
The final straw was when everyone was paired off for jeopardy and you, Tenya, and the mysterious stranger ended up on the same team. This resulted in an altercation where Tenya attempted to answer all the questions to try and impress you while also verbally disagreeing with your stranger of the night.
"I'm not sure what's wrong with Iida, maybe you could talk to him? I'm s-sure he's just worried because you're hanging out w-with...um...who is that again?" Izuku questioned as he pointed a weak finger, but you didn't answer him. Instead, you went searching for Tenya to demand an explanation for his behavior.
"I apologize if my actions were rather...questionable tonight but I...I found myself rather furious that you were in such close company with another. One I do not know at that," he explained. "I admit there is no excuse for my behavior, and I know I may not deserve such a privilege but may I...request your company for the rest of the night?" he'd be damned if he allowed himself another moment away from you, yet he refused to acknowledge this as jealousy.
#tenya x reader#iida x reader#tenya x y/n#iida x y/n#tenya x you#iida x you#faulty writes: tenya iida#faulty writes: tenya iida: headcanons
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chapter: six ( 15.5k )
rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut)
genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort
tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly
summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is.
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what is hybrid marking
8.2 million results.
While scent mixing (heretofore referred to as ‘scenting’) is temporary and lasts a maximum of twelve hours if left undisturbed, scent marking (‘marking’ in common parlance) is semi-permanent. A ‘mark’ is created when the pheromones present in a hybrid’s bodily fluids are applied directly to their markee’s skin. When said chemical compounds seep below the epidermis and bond to the sweat glands found within the dermal layer of the skin, the target has been officially ‘marked’. Between domesticated hybrids and their human caretakers, this is most commonly done by applying hybrid saliva to the skin of the neck, where a human’s scent tends to be strongest. While the behavior involved in marking resembles some aspects of human foreplay, it is a non-sexual expression of mutual trust and affection. It is important to note that most hybrids of age are able to mitigate the oral secretion of pheromones and cannot mark accidentally-
“How do I look?”
The sound of Jimin’s voice makes you jump. You fumble with your phone, trying to exit out of the website, shove it in your pocket and look at the leopard hybrid’s outfit at the same time.
“You look great!” You tell him once the device is safely tucked away.
He rolls his eyes at you. “You’ve said that about everything I’ve shown you.”
You had, but only because it was true. No matter what the trio of hybrids tried on, they all looked great. You weren’t sure what it was, but seeing them in something other than neutral sweat suits made them look even better than they already had. You were discovering they all had unique senses of fashion too. Taehyung preferred earth tones, soft fabrics and slouchy cardigans, Yoongi tended toward plaid overshirts and dark denim and Jimin had just come out of the dressing room in his sixth button down and second pair of chelsea boots.
When the four of you had arrived at the mall that afternoon, you’d told them to go wild and call you when they were ready to check out. There was an entire section of the shopping center that catered specifically to hybrids and you were certain they’d be able to find everything they needed and more. You’d been all set to sequester yourself in a booth in the food court and indulge your hybrid research habit, but Taehyung had fixed you with a forlorn look the moment you tried to part with them and Jimin had insisted that you personally review every piece of clothing he put on. You wouldn’t deny that you were having fun, but surreptitiously trying to google what every little thing they did meant without getting caught was getting harder and harder.
Jimin breezes past you to the semi-circle of mirrors on the far end of the fitting rooms, brushing his tail against your shins as he passes. That was another thing that had changed. Since the talk you’d had with the boys last night, it seemed like they were always finding some excuse to touch you or brush up against you . You didn’t know if it was a manifestation of their cat genes or them just wanting physical reassurance that you were there, but it seemed like every time you turned around there was a tail curling around your calf or a nose tip against your ear or a shoulder brushing your own. You were practically wreathed in them. Even Yoongi hadn’t seemed to mind when your fingertips had brushed against each other at breakfast when you’d passed him the juice. You didn’t know if you should count that as progress, but you want to.
You’re not entirely used to physical contact and nearly every time Taehyung rubs his cheek on the top of your head or Jimin reaches out to link your fingers together, you jump. It feels strange, to have people be so blatantly physically affectionate with you. It’s not like you dislike it, exactly, it’ll just take some getting used to. Whatever adjustments you need to make, you know you’ll need to make them quickly. You don’t think the hybrids will give up on friendly hugs just because you never initiate them first.
“Y/N-ah,”Jimin calls, catching your attention. He’s twisting this way and that on the platform, trying to catch his reflection in every possible angle. He hums in disappointment as he turns back to the front, tail waving behind him. “This collar,” he says, tugging on the offending band of bright green plastic around his neck, “-is ruining my outfit. We’ll need to get real ones today.”
You feel like a stone has settled in your stomach. Your shoulders sag, but if the leopard hybrid notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, you’re right.” In truth, you’d hoped to put it off for a little while longer. Collaring and leashing a hybrid had always seemed odd to you. After all, weren’t they people too? The law was the law, you knew, but something about publicly and visibly marking someone as property...well, the morality of it was gray at best. The temporary collars had provided you with a stay from the inevitable, but there was no avoiding it any longer, you supposed. They’d have to get collars.
“I saw a store for them a couple shops down,” Taehyung supplies as he steps out of his dressing room in a white linen shirt and cream drawstring pants. “We could go there?”
“That works for me...Taehyung, one of your buttons is in the wrong hole.”
The tiger hybrid squints down at his shirt, feels blindly for the hole he missed, but can’t seem to find it.
“No,” you tell him. “Not that one, the other- do you just want me to fix it?”
He pauses and looks up at you for a solid three seconds before giving a single, slow nod.
You come to stand in front of him and start undoing the buttons from the top. There’s only four of them but each one you pop open reveals more and more of his honey brown skin and prominent collar bones. Your fingers brush his skin accidentally and he chuffs happily, one hand resting on your lower back as you start buttoning him up again. Heat starts crawling up your neck unbidden. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, you can feel the warmth of his palm, how long his fingers are. He presses you closer until your arms are nearly flat against your chest as you try to finish buttoning him up. It’s hard to move squished between the insistent pressure of his hand and the- surprisingly- hard line of his body, but you make do. “There!” You pat him gently on the chest as you finish the last button. “All done.”
He dips forward and rubs his cheek against your forehead, rumbling so deep in his chest that the vibrations pass into you. “Thank you.” He releases you and pulls away, but as he does, his lips brush against your hairline. You try not to read too deep into it.
The tiger hybrid sidles over to his friend in the mirror, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist and dipping his head into his neck. Jimin reaches back and scratches behind one of his ears and your heart swells in your chest. It was nice to see them be so openly affectionate with each other. They’re so close in a way you can’t even begin to understand. It’s beautiful.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you thumb the screen to life. An incoming call from Mr. Seo. “You guys keep trying stuff on,” you tell the pair, already standing to make your way out of the dressing room. “I’ve gotta take this.” They both call at you to hurry back and you give them a shout of assent as you rush away.
The second you’re outside the store, you answer. “Hello?”
“Ms. L/N,” Mr. Seo’s voice crackles on the other end of the line. “I trust you’ve settled in well.” It isn’t a question and the tone of his voice makes it clear that he doesn’t wish to spend what precious time he has exchanging pleasantries with you.
“Yeah, everything’s okay.” Everything had most certainly not been okay when you’d emergency dialed him two days ago about the tiger on your couch. The text he’d sent you back six hours later had told you to figure it out. You had and you knew you weren’t his responsibility, but him tossing you in the deep end was still a sore spot for you.
“There’s been a change of plans.”
You grimace. Straight to it, then. “What’s going on?”
“Black Mountain Canines- the company your uncle purchased two of the hybrids from- changed their pick-up date. They want you to come get them in person today.”
“Pick-up?” You frown. “No, they were supposed to drop them off.”
“They were,” Mr. Seo confirms, “But it’s apparently no longer profitable for them to drive all the way into Seoul to hand-deliver two of their charges. They also claim they’re incurring additional expenses by feeding and housing two hybrids who’ve already been purchased, but we’ll see about that when we arrive.”
Your anxiety spikes and your fingers wrap tighter around your phone. You’d promised the boys a whole day out. All you’d done so far was get them phones of their own and furniture for their room. There was still so much to do, so much to see. “What about Yoongi and Jimin and Taehyung?” You blurt out.
Mr. Seo sighs and his breath crackles over the receiver. “Those are the cats, I assume? I suggest you let them know sooner rather than later that they’ll have to share their space.” There’s a flurry of movement on his end of the line, the sound of someone calling his name and papers shuffling. “I have to go; they need me to look over some case files.” He tells you. “I’ll be at Haneul Tower to pick you up in three hours. Be downstairs waiting.”And the line clicks off.
You sigh and hang up. What were you going to tell the boys? Day one of your new friendship and you were already breaking promises.
“Trouble?” Yoongi’s voice right behind you makes you flinch and whirl on him. His ears press back against his head and he takes a step back at your sudden movements.
“Sorry!” You tell him, forcing your spine to relax. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you there; I thought you were still shopping. ”
“I can tell,” he snarks, but there’s no heat behind it. His eyes trace the line of your shoulders, still tense and flick to the phone in your hand. “I dropped my stuff at the register. What’s going on?”
You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, nerves making your stomach ache. “C’mon,” you tell him, walking back into the store. “Let’s pay and grab some lunch. I’ll tell you when we sit down.” He follows after you a few paces behind, trying not to let worry prick in him at the anxious shift in your scent. Something was about to change, he was sure, and not entirely for the better.
Twenty minutes later, the four of you are sitting in the food court, a mess of shopping bags at your feet and a bowl of tteokbokki between you. Yoongi and Jimin had picked out all the fish cakes first and were bickering good-naturedly over who the last one should go to, but Taehyung seemed content to just gnaw at his rice cakes. You’d hardly touched anything, your eyes flicking back to the time on your phone. 1:20 P.M. Two hours and forty minutes ‘til Mr. Seo would be at your apartment to pick you up and bring you to get two more of the hybrids your uncle had bought. You push a rice cake around on your paper plate with the end of your chopstick. Well, no point delaying the inevitable.
“Hey, guys?” You call softly. Three pairs of ears swivel toward you immediately. The words die in your throat and your tongue feels like lead as they look at you, all their eyes focused and expectant. You clear your throat and force yourself to continue. “So...you know how I…” You search for the right word, but there’s really no other way to say it. “...inherited you guys from my uncle?”
Taehyung’s eyes flick toward Jimin and the leopard hybrid brushes his tail against the tiger’s. Silent communication you couldn’t even begin to decipher. “Yeah,” Yoongi says, tossing his chopsticks down and leaning back in his chair. “I told them.”
That was right. What you’d blurted out at Yoongi yesterday on the street you had yet to disclose to his juniors. “Thanks, Yoongi,” You tell him, meaning every word of it. He’d spared you from yet another uncomfortable conversation.
“...For what it’s worth, we’re glad it’s you,” Taehyung tells you, his tail twining around your ankle under the table. He looks at his hyungs for confirmation and when neither of them deny it, he settles his amber gaze back on you. “We like being here with you, even if you didn’t pick us. It’s...It’s nice.”
You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips at his words. He beams at you, his boxy smile soft despite the sharp incisors poking his bottom lip. “I like having you guys around, too,” you admit, taking the time to meet each of their eyes. Jimin purrs as you look at him, the corners of his mouth curling. When your gaze meets Yoongi’s, his ears twitch but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink either, just holds your stare with an intensity that makes heat crawl up your neck. You suddenly remember the warm stretch of his body over your’s, the sensation of his lips against your neck. You snatch your eyes away and cough to cover your lapse in speech. “It would’ve been scary, I think, if I had to deal with all this alone.”
You couldn’t even imagine it.That clinically clean apartment with its blank white walls and its imposing emptiness would have driven you down until you couldn’t stand it anymore. You’d always had a little pit of loneliness inside you. You didn’t know how long it’d been there. Maybe it always had been, a seed of something sad and dark at the core of your soul. You’d done well keeping it contained. You felt it in your goshiwon, but your room was small. It couldn’t grow beyond your keeping. In Oliver’s penthouse, it would’ve had endless room to sprawl and with no one to clip it back, you would’ve choked to death on vines of doubt.
“There are others,” you tell them, before you can down spiral into the mire of your own thoughts. “He bought other hybrids before he died. They weren’t supposed to be coming until next week but their company wants me to come get them today.”
The mood at the table shifts almost immediately. Taehyung’s ears and tail sag, Jimin’s smile goes sharp at the edges and Yoongi’s lip curls. “How many others?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You notice he does that when he’s nervous or uncomfortable. It’s a defense mechanism, no matter how at ease it makes him seem.
“Four,” you answer and the bobcat hybrid’s ears tilt back in irritation. “Two are coming home today and the other two toward the end of next week.” Jimin doesn’t say anything, but you see the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. He’s annoyed. Taehyung drops a hand onto the smaller hybrid’s back and rubs circles in it, trying to soothe him.
“Maybe it’ll be okay?” The tiger hybrid offers. He’s trying his best to be diplomatic, but you hear the strain in the deep timbre of his voice. “Having other cats around again might be nice. We used to live with a lot back at the center…”
You wince. “...they’re canines.” Almost immediately, all of their ears go flat against their skulls and they hiss in unison. Yoongi stifles himself the quickest, setting a hand on Jimin’s knee and squeezing to get the leopard hybrid to get a hold of himself.
“Hybrids of different species don’t play well together,” he explains. “Especially not when our animals are solitary in the wild. The only reason Jimin, Tae and I are able to stand sharing the same territory is because we’ve known each other since we were kids and we’ve had to do it before.”
Before? A question forms in the back of your mind, but now isn’t the time to ask it.
“We don’t like sharing what’s ours,” Jimin continues for his hyung, interlocking his fingers with yours on the plastic table top. “It’s instinctual.”
“I know, I know.” You squeeze his hand lightly, trying to reassure him. “But the apartment is big; can’t you avoid each other starting out?”
All three of them give you a strange look and Jimin’s lips curl in a way that isn’t quite a smile. “...right,” he purrs, a little delayed. “The apartment.”
You chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiety sinking its claws into you. “I’m really sorry to spring this on you guys, I know it’s not great, but…” Your shoulders sag. “I don’t want to have promised someone a home and rip the rug out from under them, you know?” You knew what that felt like. You wouldn’t wish that feeling on your worst enemy. “I’m just...I’m worried that they’re not being treated well.”
“They were up for sale,” Yoongi drawls. “They definitely aren’t.”
The taxi ride back to Haneul Tower is uncomfortably quiet. Jimin still holds your hand and Taehyung still leans on your shoulder, but nobody says a word. You help them carry their bags upstairs and drop them off in the master bedroom. You’d told them they could have separate rooms if they wanted, but they’d insisted on sharing, so you thought it was only fair that they get the largest room in the penthouse. Clothes went onto hangars and into closets and before you knew it, there were only ten minutes until Mr. Seo’s arrival.
“You don’t have to go,” Taehyung huffs. He’s got you wrapped in a bear- well, you suppose a tiger hug and his cheek is mashed against the top of your head. You don’t even think he’s actively scenting you at this point, just keeping you from leaving. “Send your assistant instead and stay here with us.”
You let out a puff of laughter and pat the hybrid on the back in a way you hope is soothing. “Mr. Seo isn’t my assistant, buddy, he’s my uncle’s attorney.” You give a little tug away from him and he lets you go, albeit with a sad little mrow that makes him sound just like a disappointed cat. “I couldn’t ask him to do that. The only reason he’s coming is because they broke the contract. And I can’t drive.”
The look Taehyung gives you is so downtrodden that you toy with the idea of calling the whole day off and staying with them- but no. You can’t bail out now, especially not with what you’d put Mr. Seo through when the first group of hybrids were delivered. “I’ll be back before you know it,” You tell him with a steadfast smile.
“You’d better,” Jimin says, nudging the taller hybrid out of the way. Taehyung gives a half-hearted growl, but settles as Yoongi squeezes his shoulder. “The longer you’re away, the longer you’ll have to sit in the stench of those mutts.”
You frown. “Jimin-”
“Only joking,” He soothes, bringing both of your hands up to his cheeks. You don’t believe him, but you don’t press it. The leopard hybrid nuzzles into your palms, purring happily at the feeling of your skin against his. Your palms nearly burn from how warm he is. You feel a warm puff of air against your fingers and tense as Jimin presses all ten of them against his lips.
“Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice is hard, but his junior’s lips curl up in a satisfied smile, one of his incisors pricking at the pad of your index finger.
“Hurry back,” he murmurs. You try not to shiver at the feeling of his plush lips moving against your oversensitive fingertips.
“I’ll do my best!” You say, a pained smile tugging your lips apart. He hums in response and drops your hands, his fingers trailing across yours as he lets you go.
“Hyung,” he calls over his shoulder. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Y/N-ah?”
“Don’t let them scent you.” Is all Yoongi says as he breezes toward the stairs. “You know better now.”
It’s as much as you were expecting. “I’ll see you guys later,” You tell them as you head out the door. “Finish setting your phones up and text me if you need anything!”
True to his word, Mr. Seo is parked out front at 4 o’clock on the dot. You haven’t seen him in a little over a week and you’d almost forgotten how imposing he was. He cuts a sharp figure against the backdrop of the bustling street, dressed in all black and leaning against a brand new Buick Enclave. The poor valet stationed at the front door looks like he’s been trying to work up the courage to ask to park his car for the past twenty minutes and sags in relief as you start heading over.
The lawyer dips his head in acknowledgement at you and checks his watch. “Miracle of miracles,” he says, popping open the passenger side door for you. “You’re on time.”
“I was late one time,” you huff, sliding past him and into your seat.
“And that was enough,” he snips back, closing your door before you can come up with a retort. You grumble to yourself, but don’t press him. You know he’s right. He’d gone out of his way to help you and you’d put him out.
“I’m sorry,” you tell him as he settles into his seat and reaches for his seatbelt. “It won’t happen again; I know you’ve got other things to do.”
He stills and looks at you over the gold frames of his glasses. For a long moment he holds your gaze, unblinking. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Had you done something wrong?
Finally Mr. Seo blinks and finishes buckling himself in. “I apologize for staring, I wasn’t sure if I’d heard you correctly.” He push starts his car and pulls away from the curb. “I never thought I’d see the day a L/N would apologize to me.” He edges the car into the steady stream of Seoul traffic and you’re off, zooming toward the freeway.
Silence fills the car again, but as Mr. Seo takes on-ramp, you work up the courage to ask your question. “Did Oliver never apologize to you?”
Mr. Seo snorts and it’s such an undignified sound that you almost can’t believe it comes from him. “You could tell your uncle the sky was blue and he’d argue that it was red until he was. And your grandfather-” He seems to catch himself, reigning back whatever meager bits of his personality had managed to slip through the cracks in his normally flawless veneer. You’re all ears.
Up until a week and a half ago, you hadn’t known you had any family, much less an uncle who owned buildings and bugattis. Now you were finding out that you had a grandfather too. “What about my grandfather?” The word feels strange in your mouth. It’d been years since you’d followed the word ‘my’ up with any type of familial relation.
Mr. Seo cuts his eyes at you, and flicks them back to the front. “Nothing,” he replies, clearly done talking about him. “I spoke out of turn.” He reaches forward and turns on the radio, the sound of national news filling the silence.
You pout and slouch in your seat, disappointment setting in as the promise of new information slipped out of your grasp.
The rest of the drive is easy. Mr. Seo takes the highway out of Seoul and up into the foothills but you’re asleep before he even finds the exit. You’d slept more in the past two days than you had in the previous three weeks, but it seemed like years of bad habits were catching up to you.
Last night, you’d passed out halfway through the second movie snuggled up between Jimin and Taehyung. They’d been so warm and soft and the quiet thrumming of their heartbeats had lulled you to sleep before you knew what was happening.You’d woken up with them still curled around you and -maybe most surprising of all- Yoongi plating breakfast in the kitchen.
Still, it seemed even twelve hours of the best sleep you’d gotten in years and a peaceful morning devoid of stress -for the most part- hadn’t been enough.
You wake up just as the asphalt transitions into gravel, the sound of it crunching under the tires and the car’s shaking waking you up. You’re bleary-eyed and confused, but a sign up ahead snaps you to wakefulness. Standing like a guardian over a chain link fence topped with barbed wire is a metal sign, imposing as it is tall: Black Mountain K-9s, written in stark font.
“We’re here,” Mr. Seo says, as if it’s not obvious. He kills the engine and without its purring to distract you, you feel nerves starting to boil in your belly. What kind of place was this? You half expect sinister organ music to kick on and lightning to start flashing from black clouds. Neither of those things happen, though. The sky remains startlingly clear and the only things you can pick up are the sounds of whistles being blown, dozens of people doing call and response, and one voice, louder than all the others screaming for people to ‘Run faster! Get those knees up!’
You pop the door and step out of the car before Mr. Seo can open it for you and head around to the nose of the car, taking in the compound.
“This facility produces some of the highest caliber bodyguards in the country,” He says, coming to stand beside you. The attorney rebuttons his suit jacket and flicks his sleeves up before settling his arms over his chest. “Politicians, celebrities, even a few former presidents all have hybrids from this training center.”
“It looks more like a prison,” You remark, nodding toward the barbed wire. “First big cat hybrids, now this...Why didn’t Oliver just get regular pets if he was lonely? Was he worried someone was after him?”
“Anything I can tell you would be pure speculation,” He replies, walking away from you and heading for the callbox. “Your uncle very rarely confided in me.”
“But you were his attorney.”
For just a second, the tight grip Mr. Seo has on his composure slips. His lips press together and his shoulders sag- but just as quickly as it’d lapsed, his mask is in place again. “Yes,” he says after a beat. “I was.” And he presses the button on the call box before you can pester him with any more questions about the dead men he’d known.
The call box crackles to life, speakers squealing with feedback. You flinch and slap your hands over your ears to protect them from the splitting sound. Mr. Seo doesn’t react at all and you’re stunned, wondering how he can stand it.
“Seo Seunghan and Y/N L/N for Lim Hangyeol.”
The person on the other end doesn’t respond. The speaker cuts and a second later, the metal gate before you starts rolling to the side, pushed by invisible hands. It’s like a curtain going up at the theater.
Before you lies a wide, dusty yard, devoid of any plant life. The thick-trunked trees and lush grasses of the surrounding mountainside had been stripped down to the roots here. All that remains are a few weeds poking out around the base of the long metal buildings that ring the fence, and even those seem like an intrusion. People are making use of the space in whatever way they can. A group of people with matching cropped black ears and docked tails run past you in four straight lines, all perfectly in step with each other. Over to your right, there’s a pack of teenagers working in pairs to scale a ten-foot tall sheer wooden wall and in the center of the field, twenty kids are running through taekwondo forms, supervised by a widely smiling instructor.
You’re in awe of it all. Every single person is like a cog in a well-oiled machine, all in the same black tactical pants and compression shirt. You’d never seen so many hybrids in one place before and certainly not all of the same breed.
Mr. Seo places a hand in the center of your back, steering you away from staring and toward a squat cement building.You let him lead you.
“When we get inside,” the lawyer begins, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “Let me speak first. If we can get him to admit to breaching the contract right away, it’ll be much easier to get him to agree to a settlement.”
You frown at that. “Why would we settle?” You ask him. “It’s not like I need the money.”
“It’s a matter of principle, Ms. L/N.” He sighs, pulling open the heavy metal door and ushering you into the building. “He did something wrong, and it’s most easy for him to bear the brunt of atonement financially. Without requiring damages be paid for breaches, contract law would collapse.”
“Can’t you just have him apologize?”
Mr. Seo’s mouth twists up like he’s just tasted something unpleasant. “As you attorney, it is my duty to advise you against accepting restitution in the form of an apology. You’ll get a reputation for being a pushover.”
You wanted to be anything but. “Alright, alright,” you concede, “Do whatever you think is best.”
The building you’ve ducked into seems to be an office. Along one wall are a set of metal folding chairs doing their best impression of a waiting room. Along the other is a metal door covered in peeling paint and one suspicious dent bearing a plaque that reads ‘DIRECTOR LIM’. Set between you and it is a desk covered in a mess of paperwork. An old desktop stands among it like an island in the ocean and middle aged hybrid woman in coke bottle glasses is hunched before it, tapping away at the keyboard at a mind-boggling speed. One of her ears twitches as the pair of you approach.
“Take a seat,” she orders in a reedy voice, not bothering to look up from her work. “The Director will be with you shortly.”
“Send them in, Eunjung!” Someone shouts from behind the metal door just as she’s finished. She doesn’t look up or stop typing or even acknowledge you two again. Mr. Seo takes it upon himself to breeze past her desk and open the door for you.
The office is militaristically organized, all right angles and bare metal surfaces. There’s a black leather couch that’d seen better days to your left as you enter, a half empty water cooler to your right. Bookshelves lined with trophies and textbooks dominate the western wall. You scan the titles as you pass: Predatory Instinct: The Teaching and Training Canines, The Utility of Force, On Raising Hybrids, The Art of War, all dangerous and daunting as the man they belonged to.
Lim Hangyeol is the most grizzled man you’ve ever seen and the only other human besides yourself and Mr. Seo in the compound, it seems. He looks like a drill sergeant from an old action movie, his salt and pepper hair buzzed short and his face craggy with frown lines. There’s a semicircle of pockmark scars marring the skin of his right cheek and as you get closer, you realize they’re teeth marks. You shoot a concerned look to Mr. Seo, but he’s more focused on giving the director a shallow bow than allaying any of your fears.
“Director,” He says, straightening back up. “Thank you for having us-”
“Spare me the bullshit,” The older man orders, kicking back his office chair and sinking back into it. “Take a seat. Let’s talk business.”
A cold smile settles on your attorney’s lips and you see a cord twitching in his jaw, but he merely nods and replies in a breezy voice, “Of course.”
The two of you do as you told, settling into two metal chairs in front of his desk. These ones are nicer than the folding ones in the waiting room, but no more comfortable. You try to slide yours forward only to find that it’s bolted to the floor.
“Stops the dogs from throwin’ em when they get bad news,” Director Lim tells you as you uselessly tug at the legs. “Got tired of replacing windows.”
You grimace. If the awards on the bookshelf, what Mr. Seo had told you and the dozens of hybrids running boot camp drills outside were any indication, the man before you must’ve had some idea what he was doing. You didn’t end up providing security for high profile public figures without a smidge of credibility, you knew, but the bite marks on his cheek, the little crack about people throwing chairs at him and the way he’d referred to them as ‘dogs’ didn’t inspire confidence in you.
This was your first time visiting a place that produced hybrids, you realized. You’d never even been into a shelter before and certainly not a breeding center. Were they all like this? Devoid of anything soft or comforting, rigid with rules and regulations? Had Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung come from a place like this? You don’t know and you’re not sure you’d like the answer if you did.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice,” Mr. Seo starts, popping open the hinges on his briefcase and pulling out a few sheaves of paper. “After the sudden cancellation of your company’s contract with Ms. L/N, I was concerned for the state of our business relationship.” He slides one of the packets across the desk to the director.
“If I remember correctly,” Director Lim says, scanning the lines of ink and unintelligible legalese, “Me and your boss signed for delivery, not me and whoever this little girl is you brought.”
Your eyes narrow and your lips curl, but before you can give voice to the nasty thing crawling up your throat, Mr. Seo gives a subtle shake of his head and taps you twice on the knee, out of eyeshot of the director. You grumble, but cage it behind your teeth.
“See?” The man jabs one gnarled finger at the page, right over your late uncle’s flourishing signature. “It says it right there: L/N Oliver. Last I checked, he was dead. I’m not holding on to a dead man’s dogs. ”
That same muscle tenses in Mr. Seo’s jaw. “The contract states that Black Mountain Canines would deliver the hybrids my client purchased to his residence on December the eighteenth and that they would be received by a proxy if he was unavailable. You were made aware of the fact that he was unavailable, as well as the fact that he now has a proxy-
“I’ll pay the goddamn fine!” The Director barks, throwing his hands up in the air. “Christ above, I don’t know why he wanted those two fuck-ups in the first place, but I don’t want them on my property a second longer.”
You shoot Mr. Seo a look of confusion, but he just watches, blasé, as the Director rifles through his desk drawers. The man finds what he’s looking for and drops two manila folders on top of the contract. “The pair of them are useless. If it weren’t for my reputation, I’d’ve had them both sent to shelters years ago. Or put down, but you know how touchy the law is about that.”
“I don’t.” You say, your voice edging dangerously close to a snarl. It slips out before you can stop it. Mr. Seo shoots you a warning look and you ball your fists up in your sweater sleeves, fingernails biting crescent moons into your palms with the effort of keeping your mouth shut.
You can’t stand this man, you decide. He’s awful. You should’ve known that from the moment you saw elementary school aged hybrids stumbling through taekwondo drills with their ears taped and bandages on their tails. You’re going to take whatever hybrids Oliver bought, get them the fuck out of there and never look back.
If Director Lim had heard you growl at him, he gives no sign of it, just flips open the folders. “To be honest, I should be paying you to take them off my hands. They’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since they aged out of training. I told your uncle he could have his pick of the litter for what he was paying, but he wanted a wide-eyed buffoon and a mutt who’d rip your hand off soon as look at you.” Clipped to the insides are photos of two men, staring back at you in black and white.
One has the same black and tan cropped ears as every other hybrid you’ve seen thus far. Unlike them, he’s smiling. His eyes are little upturned crescent moons and he beams at you through the photo paper. There’s so much light in his face it’s nearly blinding.
The other is not nearly as inviting. The photo is taken at an odd angle and it’s blurry at the edges, like whoever took it was much shorter than the subject and had to zoom in to even get the shot. His ears, larger than any of the other hybrids and longer furred, are pinned back against his head. His jaw is clenched and he glowers down into the lens, one eye soot black and the other piercing blue.
There are stats listed on the pages behind their photos: height, weight, shot records and the like. Among them, you see their call signs, highlighted in yellow: Hope and Monster.
“I don’t know where I went wrong with him,” the director says, tapping Hope’s photo. “He went through all the training, passed all the tests, but when it comes down to it, he just doesn’t have the instinct.” He gives a single shake of his head, clicks the tip of his tongue against his teeth. “No one wants a guard dog that’d sooner talk an intruder’s ear off than actually guard what he’s supposed to. He’s not good for much but nannying the pups, but he’s too soft on them too.”
A light bulb clicks on and you realize the hybrid in question had been the one instructing the kids outside in the center of the yard, his tail wagging a mile a minute as they completed another form correctly.
“Now this bastard…” the director continues, jamming a finger onto the second photo with so much force, it rattled the cup of pens on his desk. “Is my biggest failure.” He crosses his arms and kicks back in his chair, his dislike of the hybrid in question obvious. “His mother was the cornerstone of this facility for nearly a decade. I sold her pups to assemblymen and actors alike. Centers around the country wanted pups with her genetics. If it weren’t for her, we’d never have grown to this size.” He sounds wistful as he spreads his hands out, gesturing around himself like a king taking in his holdings. “But all good things come to an end,” He sighs. “A pack of wild hybrids settled a little higher up on the mountain.” His face darkens and his lips twist. “Wolves,” he snarls with all the disdain he can muster.
“All that about them being noble and self-sacrificing? Complete and utter bullshit,” He scoffs. “They’re transient lowlifes who’d slit your throat as soon as look at you. At first I didn’t care. They stayed on their side of the mountain and I stayed on mine, but then they started sneaking down here at night to steal my food and fuck my dogs. By the time I managed to get the cops out here, they’d cleared out and my top breeder had gone with them.”
He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “I tell you, I thought I was ruined. But wouldn’t you know it, she came stumbling back here six months later, barefoot and howling to be let in and heavy with some wild thing’s pup.” Director Lim snaps both the folders shut and slides them to you across the desk. “The thing about breeding hybrids is, the money’s all in the bloodlines. No one wants a dog with mystery genetics. The only way to solve that problem is to cut it off at the root- but it was already too late by the time she got here.”
You feel sick to your stomach. You hope he isn’t implying what you think he is- that hybrid children he hadn’t planned out himself were mistakes in need of correction- but you know he is. Deep in your gut you know.
“And she spoiled him. She let him run roughshod over everyone and everybody in this compound. I tried telling her wild hybrids need a firmer hand- he certainly did if we were gonna break that wolf he’s got inside him, but she wouldn’t hear it. I tried to crop him with the other pups his age, he gave me these,” he said, gesturing to the teeth marks in his cheeks. “We keep him shut up away from the others, now, in the back when he can’t bother anyone. He gets his meals delivered but we don’t ever let him out.” The grizzled man shakes his head. “A drain on resources is what he is.”
“And his mother?” You ask, quietly.
“Eunjung?” he questions. “You met her on the way in.” The director stands and unclips a ring of keys from his belt buckle, making his way around the desk and gesturing for you and Mr. Seo to follow. “I’ve got her doing desk work now. Gotta keep her close so she doesn’t cause any more trouble.” He pushes open the door to his office, barks something at his secretary and steps outside, not looking back to see if you two are following.
You shoot Mr. Seo a look before you stand and he meets it, evenly. “We’ll discuss this in the car,” he says, stuffing papers back into his briefcase and flicking the clasps shut. Oh, you most certainly will discuss ‘it’ in the car.
You don’t really know what it is or where to even begin. The kids with bandaged ears? The fact that Director Lim seemingly decided who was allowed to see the sun and who wasn’t? You think back to the conversation you’d had with Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi last night. Right now, it seems years away, in some unreachable, idyllic past before you knew how breeding centers worked and how security hybrids were made. You feel foolish. Who were you to try to get them to let go of their pain and their hurt? If what they’d been through was even a little like what was going on here, they wouldn’t be able to for a long time. You’re angry. You’re disgusted. You are unquantifiably fucking sad.
You pass Eunjung on your way out. In your time in the director’s office, she’s pulled her ash brown hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Peeking out of the collar of her sweatshirt you can see a faded scar in the shape of a ring, little puncture marks pale and glossy. It looked similar to the one on the director’s cheek, but this one was a complete circle and not ragged at all, like she’d stayed completely still while it was given. Teeth marks.
You swallow. You want to do something, to give her some words of encouragement, but you have no idea what to say. You still don’t as you slow to a stop beside her desk, but you open your mouth to speak anyway. “I’m sorry,” You tell her, with all the sincerity in your heart.
She doesn’t answer, but one cropped ear flicks toward you and her fingers slow in their incessant race across her keyboard.
You turn to go. Mr. Seo was holding the door open for you and you can hear the director barking orders at a group of trainees to run an obstacle course faster. Just as you set foot over the threshold, she speaks. Her voice is so quiet, you have to strain to hear her over the steady clack-click-clack of her nails on the keys.
“He likes green things,” she says, not looking up from her work. “And old books.”
You look over your shoulder at her. Her face is a mask of neutrality, her eyes clear and her mouth set in a relaxed line. She looks fine, but there’s an ocean of meaning behind her words. You see her, just for a moment, as she’d been all those years ago, barefoot in the snow and begging for shelter, her stomach full with one of the moon’s own children. You commit the sight of her to memory. Then you turn and you go.
The director is waiting outside, shielding his eyes from the sun and regaling Mr. Seo with some long-winded explanation on the best way to treat hip dysplasia in Doberman hybrids. “Where to?” you ask, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence.
The man gives you a disgruntled look but despite the anxiety you feel spiking in your belly, you meet it evenly. Once upon a time, anyone in a position of authority looking at you the way he was would’ve sent you into a tailspin of self-doubt and nerves, leaving you shivering as your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, warning you of non-existent danger. If you were honest, it still did- but you didn’t have the luxury of running away and hiding anymore, not when there were people who needed you.
“Hope’s bags are in the barracks. He just needs to grab them, and he can be on his merry way,” The direction grunts. “Monster’s still locked up, so I’ll-”
“I’ll go.” You can feel Mr. Seo stiffen beside you.
“Ms. Y/N-”
“If he’s really that aggressive,” you start, your eyes not leaving the director’s for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to meet him now instead of when we’re packed into a car on a two hour car ride?” Director Lim narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t falter. You hold your hand out for the key. Your boldness surprises you. He drops the key ring into your open palm and you wrap your fingers around it, stuffing it in your pocket before he can snatch them back. You turn on your heels and march off in the direction he tilts his head in, nothing but a hiss of your name from Mr. Seo’s lips to accompany you.
You walk quickly, eyes straight and willing your legs to go faster with every stride. It’s a long way across the compound but the less time you spend walking, the less time you have to stew in anxiety. None of the hybrids training in little packs spread across the yard pay you any mind- except for Hope.
Your path takes you directly behind the group of kids he’s working with. You give them a wide berth, not wanting to disturb them, but you get a little distracted. Your steps slow for just a moment as you drink him in. He’s tall- the same height as Taehyung, if you’re judging it right, but there’s an ease about him the tiger hybrid hasn’t yet mastered. Everything about Taehyung is pulled in. He’s always coiled tight, like he’s preparing to spring forward at any moment, all his energy drawn into the center of his being. Even last night, when you’d been cuddled up with him on the couch, he’d pulled you tight against his side, shifting and rearranging himself til you both fit on one cushion. He’d held you tight through both films, his tail curled around the both of you and his spine tight, like if he let himself relax for a moment, you’d both turn to dust on the wind.
Hope has no such fear. Everything about him is spread wide open, from the heart-shaped smile on his lips to his arms as he demonstrates a series of punches to his little pack of students. They all watch him with rapt attention, ears perked up and bandaged tails wagging. One of them asks him a question and he laughs, ruffles their hair. He laughs in a way you’ve never seen before, shoulders shaking like he can’t contain the force of it alone. It makes your heart flip.
His ears twitch, picking up the change in the cadence of your footsteps. He looks up and your eyes meet for the first time. He looks surprised to see you, for a moment, face blank- but then it melts into a soft smile, brimming with affection you’ve done nothing to earn. You snatch your gaze away and fix it to the dirt in front of you, embarrassed at being caught. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him cock his head to the side in confusion, but he doesn’t go after you. All the better, you’re all but running away from him now.
You shuffle across the compound in a blur of scuffed sneakers and frayed nerves. You barely give yourself time to look up at the small cinder block building before you, shoving the key in the padlock before you can lose what unearned confidence you have left. You twist it, yank the rusted thing open, take a deep breath and enter.
You don’t know what you’d been expecting, but it’s certainly not what you find. The way Director Lim had spoken about him and this place, you’d been expecting cobwebs on the ceiling, blood spatters on the wall and rusty nails on the floor. What’s before you is almost entirely the opposite.
The room is a veritable Eden.
There are vines climbing every available wall, wrapping around structural posts and digging their way between concrete blocks. Every surface is crammed full of flowering plants in makeshift pots: lilies in old water jugs, violets in a worn out boot, black-eyed susans dripping orange petals from an upturned helmet. The floor is in a similar state, ferns and foxgloves turning what little space around his bed there is into a meadow. It’s beautiful.
“He likes green things,” you marvel, stepping into the room and pushing the door shut behind you. It seemed every living thing that’d been uprooted to expand the compound had found a second life here, sheltered from the Director’s violence. Maybe the hybrid who lived here had too.
A plant different from all the others catches your eye. It’s set up on the cardboard box serving as his bedside table and it’s the only one in a real pot from what you can tell. It looks just like a miniature tree, complete with knobs on it’s trunk and tiny leaves. You let out a little sound of wonder and crouch in front of it, your fingers reaching out on their own to trail across the delicate branches-
A massive hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you cold. “Don’t touch that.”
You hadn’t heard him approach, but now you knew he was there. You could feel his presence behind you, heavy and warm. He’s looming over you. You swallow and make your arm go limp in his grip. No need to give him a reason. “I won’t,” You tell him. “Will you please let go of my wrist?”
He drops your arm without protest and relief floods your body. You weren’t sure if there was a hybrid version of lockjaw and you certainly weren’t itching to find out. You sit back on your heels and struggle to your feet, still hyper aware of the person behind you, his eyes boring holes into the back of your head. By the time you turn around, he’s back where he came from, standing in the entrance for a bathroom you hadn’t seen, half hidden behind a curtain of vines.
He looks different than the others. You’d been expecting that, but the full-length fluffy tail held stiffly behind his back and the long-furred ears pointed away from you are still a surprise. His fur, instead of being in rigid black and tan points, is marked by whorls of black, brown and gray. Instead of the lean musculature all the other hybrids had -all trim waists and narrow ankles- he’s sturdier, his shoulders broad and the veins in his forearms popping as he clenches his fists. He’s looking at you with that mismatched glare, his chin tilted toward his chest and his eyes shining aquamarine and obsidian.
“If you’re new,” he starts, voice raspy. “They should’ve told you: you’re supposed to knock before you come in.”
“No, I’m not-”
“You can leave the food over there.” He nods toward a little plastic folding table jammed into one corner. It’s the one surface in his room that’s devoid of plants and there’s nothing on it besides a metal cafeteria tray, licked clean. “I won’t move when your back is turned.”
“I’m not here to deliver your food.”
He frowns, brows drawing together as his shoulders tense. “Then why are you…?”
You ball your hands up in your sweater sleeves and turn to face him full on. “I’m here to take you home with me.” You tell him. “They didn’t tell you?”
He laughs, but it’s a cold sound, devoid of joy. “Nobody tells me anything.”
Based on the short conversation you’d had with Director Lim, his sudden cancellation of contracts and the way he seemed ready to bulldoze over anything and everyone that didn’t fit his agenda, he didn’t seem the sharing type. Still it was hard to believe he hadn’t told him he’d be leaving the compound that’s been his home for over twenty years.
“You don’t have to come with me,” you add, softly. “If you don’t want to. I know I’m a stranger. But you can leave-”
“I can’t go anywhere.” He taps the collar around his neck. At first, you’d thought it was the same as the ones every other hybrid had been wearing. You can see now that it isn’t. Theirs had all been leather with thin silver buckles holding them in place. His was leather too, but the band was broader and double-layered. There’s a little box on the side with hinges and a small drawing of a lighting bolt. A shock collar.
Your stomach turns.
You take a slow step toward him, but the second you do, his ears go flat against his head and he pulls his lips back, revealing sharp teeth. You freeze, hands held up and the keys dangling from your thumb. “I have the keys,” you say, extending them toward him.
His eyes flick from your face, to the keys in your hand and back again, like he doesn’t believe what’s happening, like he can’t believe you’d actually want him free. The silence drags out into a little eternity before he speaks again. “If I try to unlock it, it’ll shock me.”
You blink up at him and risk another slow step forward, hoping you’ve caught his meaning correctly. This time, he doesn’t growl but his ears stay pinned back as he watches you through narrowed eyes. You close the distance between the two of you.
When you were six, your mom scraped together enough money to take you to Busan for your birthday. You’d spent the day down at the beach, building sand castles with sea shell windows and wading through tide pools. After the sun had set, someone had set off fireworks and you’d watched them cuddled up in your mom’s arms, eyes wide and filled with a riot of colors you had no name for. It’s strange, you know. The ocean is miles away, but that’s what he smells like: the sea and the sand, and the last curls of smoke from homemade bottle rockets. He smells like that day.
You lift your hands to the clasp on his neck and slide the key home. You twist it and the collar falls to the ground, a monster that can’t hurt him anymore. His skin is warm under your fingers, but puckered with scar tissue. There’s a ring of it around his neck, branching with whatever current had run through him in different directions. There’s no way this was legal, no way anyone with half a heart could treat another person like this. Your fingers trail one of the splits over his adam’s apple and he swallows beneath your touch, snatching your wrist again.
“Dont.” His voice is cold. You blink, shaking off whatever spell you’d been under and shuffle back quickly, eager to give him space. He cradles his throat with one long-fingered hand, massaging the skin. He rolls his neck and you look away. You shouldn’t stare; the last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable. “I’ll go with you,” he rasps, answering the question before you can ask it again.
You gape for a second. You really hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “Really?” You can’t stop a note of relief from creeping into your voice.
“Anywhere’s better than here.” He answers back. So, you were a means to an end. It doesn’t bother you. You’ll be whatever you need to be to get him away from this place and that man who seemed to only want to drive him down.
“Do you need time to pack, or-?”
He gives a firm shake of his head. “There’s nothing from this place I want to keep.” And that’s the end of it. You push open the door and stride back out into the cold mountain air, trying your best to exude the confidence you know you lack. The hybrid slinks behind you, head hunched between his shoulders and every step stiff. He hesitates at the threshold and looks up at you, uncertainty written in the rigid line of his spine. He’s nervous. He has every right to be.
How long had he spent in that little cinderblock room, shut away from every living thing? How long had he spent being told that he was a monster? You didn’t believe it, not for one second. No one who was as violent as the director had painted him out to be could’ve raised that garden.
He leans out of the door frame, sniffs the air and lurches forward, out of the shadow of his room, His shoulders bunch up even higher around his head and he goes stiff like he’s waiting for a shock or a shot or a shout- but none comes. The sun is still shining and he’s barefoot in the sand, standing for the first time in years under the open sky. He exhales in a short puff and it looks like he’s going to walk beside you- but he turns on his heels on goes back inside.
You make a little noise of distress in the back of your throat. Had he changed his mind? Did he not want to come with you anymore? You go to call his name out of concern- but realize you don’t know it. All you have is the call sign he’d been given and you sure as fuck aren’t calling him ‘Monster’. You don’t have to flounder for long. He comes back out two seconds later, cradling the bonsai that’d caught your attention to his chest.
“I’ll take this,” he mutters, shuffling into place behind you. You can’t smother the smile that starts tugging at your lips. Yeah, no one hateful would hold a little tree with as much tenderness as an infant.
You give him a little nod. “There’s a terrace where I live,” you tell him, starting your trek across the yard once again. “It’s got a garden and a little greenhouse on it. It’s not very big, and it’s not as pretty as your’s, but you could grow new things there, if you wanted.”
His ears twitch in response, but he keeps his glower firmly focused on the plant in his arms as he shuffles along beside you. It’s then you notice he’s barefoot. “Do you wanna go back and get your shoes?” You ask, trying to make the question sound as innocuous as possible.
“Don’t have any,” he grumbles back. “Don’t need them; I never go outside.”
Alright, that was understandable. Your first stop when you got back into the city would be a shoe store to get him a pair to wear- or maybe not with the way he kept flinching every time a whistle blew and his ears were swivelling like satellites at each new sound that reached them. You chew the inside of your lip. You don’t want to ask, but you know you should. Better to rip the bandaid off now, than get surprised later. “How long were you shut in for?”
“Fourteen.” He bites out.
“...weeks?” You venture. There's a hopeful uptick at the end of your words. Even that would’ve been horrible, even that would be worthy of the litany of profanity you’re mentally lobbing at Director Lim- but it’s still better than the truth.
The hybrid cuts a flat look at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Years.”
A wall of your scent hits him like a freight train, vacillating between the thick, cloying odor of sadness and the burn of anger. His nose wrinkles at it, brows drawing together in confusion.
However little you might’ve known about hybrids, however limited your view of them was, you knew they weren’t supposed to be locked up. Domesticated hybrids like hamsters and cats might’ve been fine inside a house all day, assuming they still had regular interaction with people- but dogs weren’t. And he was half wolf. Wild, he’d have had dozens of square miles to roam over, and he’d been limited to a four-by-four yard room for fourteen years. Your goshiwon was a similar size, but it hadn’t been your whole world. All he’d had was one tiny window and what narrow view he’d managed to glimpse in the doorway when his meals were delivered.
You open your mouth to say something, anything, but you’re cut off by a scream of delight and a snarl keying up in the hybrid next to you’s chest. Your jaw snaps shut with a click.
A few yards ahead, there’s a group of kids wrestling in a massive pile. They’re all giggling and rolling over each other, tails wagging a mile a minute as they play bite and make grabs for the person at the center of their puppy pile. A head of black hair and a pair of cropped ears pop up and you see that it’s Hope, smiling bright as the sun as his students try to pin him.
“You can’t leave!” One particularly determined kid yips, adamantly pushing his shoulder back to the sand. “Who’s gonna teach us?”
Hope just laughs.”Lisa is gonna teach you with the older kids-“
A chorus of disappointed barks and howls breaks out. “Ms. Lisa’s classes are too hard!” A little girl complains.
“Yeah!” Someone else chimes in. “And she’s strict!”
The hybrid ruffles both kid’s hair affectionately, careful of their bandaged ears. “Just because she won’t let you get away with skipping night practice doesn’t mean she’s strict,” he laughs. He’s only met with more grumbles and complaints.
It warms your heart to see. Even if these kids were at the mercy of their director -for now, at least- it was good that they had him to rely on. Your eyes meet and the sheer force of light in his face makes your own heat up. You look away, but he’s spotted you. He disentangles himself from the mess of kids and draws himself up to his full height. He’s in the same uniform he was in before, albeit with a black tactical bag now strapped to his back. He takes a step toward you and the wolfdog hybrid's ears go flat against his skull. He’s not deterred. “Joonie?” It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to the hybrid next to you. “Kim Namjoon, is that you?” Hope takes one step forward and the hybrid - Namjoon - takes a step back to counter him. Hope looks like he’s going to advance again, but a small pair of hands wrapped around one of his own stops him.
A little girl is holding on to him. She can’t be more than six years old. Her tail is still long and her ears are still floppy and she looks so small in her child-sized boots and cargo pants. “Mr. Hobi,” she whines, her head craned back to look up at him. “Please don’t go.”
He falters. His eyes flick from the pair of you back down to her, then he crouches, holds both of her hands in his. “I have to, Sowon-ah,” he says softly.
She sniffles pitifully and juts out her lower lip.”But why?”
It’s a fair question. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to come with you if he doesn’t want to, but he beats you to the punch. “Because it’s my job, sweetheart,” he tells her, smiling softly.
“Y-your job is to teach us,” she hiccups back, face growing blotchy as tears well up in her eyes. Hope swipes one of them away with his thumbs.
“I teach you so you can grow up well and protect your person, right?” She nods, little hands balling the fabric of her cargo pants up in her fists. “Right. Well this,” he continues, turning and looking at you with a soft smile. “Is my person. And I’ve gotta go make sure she stays safe.”
You feel your heart jump into your throat. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky and you don’t deserve it. You’ve done nothing to warrant that much unearned loyalty. Sowon rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands and Hope pulls her into a tight hug.
“Ah, don’t cry, Sowon! You’ve gotta make sure you get stronger so someone takes you home, okay? You don’t wanna get old and still be here like me, right?” He squeezes her and goes to stand, but gets mobbed by his students again, all wanting their own hugs and making him swear to write them letters. It takes another five minutes of tearful goodbyes and Director Lim approaching for them to turn him loose.
“Get back to your training, all of you!” He barks, stomping out of the office and slamming the door, Mr. Seo on his heels. The kids scatter to the four winds almost instantly, not wanting to be underfoot for whatever scolding the director was about to deal out. Hope’s face remains the same but you catch his ears droop just a little as his students leave him. The wolfdog hybrid- Namjoon, you remind yourself- on the other hand has his ears flat against his skull. A growl bubbles up in his chest and rips past his lips. It’s a dark, full bodied thing that has you taking a step back and Hope shrinking with a whine.
“Joonie-” he pleads.
“Don’t fucking call me that.” All the fur on Namjoon’s body is standing on end, from the points of his ears to the tip of his tail. Even his hair has fluffed out. His mismatched eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals his incisors and all that fury, all that rage, is leveled on Director Lim.
To his credit, the grizzled man doesn’t shrink back an inch before the enraged hybrid. His lips twist and he yanks a little remote out of his pocket, mashing a red button in the center. Namjoon flinches, his hands fly to his neck- but nothing happens. The shock collar is gone and the director has no power over him anymore.
The man in question’s eyes widen, flicking between the remote to the column of Namjoon’s throat, now devoid of his one element of control. “Where’s his collar?” He demands. “How the hell did you get your collar off?” He advances on the tall hybrid, his hand in the air and though he doesn’t stop snarling, Namjoon ducks his head, anticipating the blow.
You don’t know what moves you. Maybe it’s Hope pleading for it all to ‘stop, just stop!’. Maybit’s how Namjoon knows exactly how to move when he’s about to get hit. Maybe it’s your own lack of self-preservation. Whatever it is, you blink and you’re in front of Namjoon, your hand up and clutching the director’s forearm, stopping him from striking the hybrid behind you. You’re not strong enough to stop him, not fully. Your elbow buckles in and you stumble back, your back pressing into the wolfdog hybrid’s chest.
The director yells something at you, red flooding his face. You can’t hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears, the pounding of your heart. You force a dry swallow down your throat, put on your bravest face and glare up at him. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”
He reaches out with his free hand to tug you out of the way, but before he can touch you, Hope is there. He presses close to your side and holds the director’s wrist firm, his eyes on the sand and his shoulders hunched up by his ears.
Director Lim looks angry enough to spit. “Hell of a time for you to grow a backbone,” he snarls at Hope, making the doberman hybrid flinch. “I want all four of you off my property now.” He snatched his arms free and you don’t miss the nasty glare he casts at Namjoon. “And if this mutt ever shows his face around here again, I’ll-”
“Director Lim,” Mr. Seo cuts in, his voice cool. “You’ve made yourself clear; we’ll leave. You needn’t make threats.” There’s an underlying warning in the attorney’s voice. The director locks his jaw.
“Get out.” He breathes. Hope ducks around him, his head low and his docked tail pressed close to his back. If he could tuck it, you think he would. You follow after him, eyes fixed straight ahead and your back ramrod straight. He might’ve scared the shit out of you, but you weren’t going to let him see that. Mr. Seo fixes you with a hard look and the second you’re within arms reach, he presses a hand to your back and ushers you toward the gate. The only one who remains is Namjoon.
He looks like his anger has rooted him to the spot. His ears are still flat against his head, his lip still curled.
“Do it, boy,” the director taunts. “Give me a reason-”
“Namjoon.” At the sound of his name, his ears prick up and you turn around. It’d come not from Hope- which you’d expected, seeing as he seemed to be the only one who actually knew his fellow hybrid’s name- but from the open door of the office building where Eunjung stood. She looks at him, her expression unreadable and he stares back. All the tension in his body has shifted and for a moment, you think he’s going to spring toward her and fall into her arms- but she gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head and his face hardens. His arms tighten around his bonsai. You think you know, now, why it was the only plant in his room that had a pot.
“Go,” she says and all the tension leaves him. His shoulders curve in and he drags himself past the director, out from the fence and toward Mr. Seo’s car. There’s something final about the way the gate rolls shut after him. If you hadn’t known better, you’d’ve sworn you heard him whine as it locked.
The car ride down the mountain is...interesting to say the least. Hope insists that the seating arrangements inside the Buick be done to his specifications,( “You’ve gotta sit in the middle,” he tells you, pointing to the narrow center seat. “And Joonie and I will sit on either side of you to protect you in case we crash!” His tail is wagging a mile a minute behind him. You’re surprised it can move that much, given how short it is. Mr. Seo looks affronted at the unintentional jab at his driving and Namjoon just looks irritated. “I told you to stop calling me that.”) and he keeps throwing an arm across your middle everytime the car hits a bump. You’re going down the side of a mountain. There are a lot of bumps. He also keeps pressing his nose against the glass of his window, ears pricked up and trying to take in every tree that passes by. Namjoon, on the other hand, slouches back in his seat, his body curved around his plant and ever so slightly away from you. He still watches the world pass by, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of you or speak- which would be fine if anyone else would. Hope seems to be doing his best to appear stoic and alert every time you look at him and Mr. Seo seems comfortable with the quiet. So, you’re left to ride the two hours back to Seoul in silence.
You almost cry with relief when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. You fish the device out of your pocket, thumb it to life and scan your notifications.
Unknown Sender [7:13 PM]
where are you
You frown. Very few people had your number or any reason to text you. You’re about to chalk it up to a wrong number when the second text rolls in.
Unknown Sender [7:14 PM]
it’s yoongi
Now that’s a surprise. When you’d hurriedly told the boys to text you, you’d been expecting Jimin to urge you to hurry or for Taehyung to ask for updates, not for their hyung to check your progress. A little smile pricks at your lips as you rush to reply
You [7:14 PM]
We’re on the way back now!
Unknown Sender has been changed to Yoongi
Yoongi [7:14 PM]
can i call
You bite the inside of your lip, suddenly nervous. You know there’s no reason to be. After all, you tell yourself, what’s scary about a pair of roommates talking on the phone? You give him the go ahead and not three seconds after the delivered notification pops up, you get a call. You answer it on speaker.
“...Hello?”
“Did you just start driving?” Yoongi’s voice is thick with sleep, like he’s just woken up. It’s different than normal, his usual smooth drawl gone gravelly.
“Y-yeah,” you reply, trying to ignore the way Hope is watching you out of the corner of his eyes and Namjoon’s ears have swiveled back toward you. “It’s gonna be awhile, still. Are Taehyung and Jimin-”
“They’re fine; They ate dinner earlier and they’ll be asleep til you get back.” He yawns and you picture him slouched on the couch, his hair mashed up on one side and his face puffy. “Why do you sound nervous?”
“I’m not,” you counter. It’s a blatant lie and he knows it. He hums in doubt, but doesn’t press you.
“I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Do you want me to text you when we’re close?” It’s an innocuous question. There’s no reason you can see for him to pause as long as he does. For a second you think you’ve lost him- after all, mountains aren’t known for having great reception- but then you hear his breath fan over the receiver.
“...Yeah.”
You give a little nod you know he can’t see. “Okay.” He makes a little noise of assent and then his line clicks off. You hang up. Just as you do, another text comes through.
Yoongi [7:16 PM]
don’t let them scent you
“Who was that?” Hope asks in a small voice, pulling you away from your phone screen and Yoongi’s insistence that you remain scent-free. His tone is open, but you can tell by the way his knee is bouncing that he really, really wants to know. “Is that your husband?”
The bark of laughter that rips past your lips is out before you can think to stop it. Namjoon flinches and you wince at him in apology, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. Hope is frowning at you in confusion, his head cocked slightly to the side. You force yourself to calm and answer him. “No, Yoongi is not my husband.” You weren’t sure if you even really qualified as friends at this point. “He’s another hybrid that lives with me.”
Hope perks up in his seat. “You have another hybrid? Director Lim always told us that once we left the center, we’d be alone.” Your expression sours at the mention of the ill-tempered man and you shake your head.
“No, there’s a lot of hybrids in Seoul,” you tell him, eager to dispel some of his misconceptions. “The three that live with me are named Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung. Yoongi’s around your age, I think. Jimin and Taehyung are younger.” The doberman hybrid sits at rapt attention, soaking up every bit of information you give him and waiting eagerly for more. What else could you tell him about them? You remember the boys’ reaction that morning when you told them you’d be bringing dog hybrids home. “...They’re all felines,” you say, slowly, trying to gauge their reactions.
“So that’s why you smell like that.” It’s the first words Namjoon’s spoken since you all piled into the car. You turn to him, but he’s not looking at you.
“What do you-?”
“You smell like other hybrids,” Hope says, covering for him. “But I’ve never smelled any that weren’t other dogs before.” He leans closer, his seatbelt stretching. You tense and lean away from him, but he’s not deterred. The tip of his nose brushes your neck and you have to fight off a shiver as he breathes you in. “They smell the same…” he starts, his breath fanning over your throat. “...but different? And one of them isn’t as strong as the others-” He presses closer, trying to catch the scent that’s eluding him. You make a noise of mild distress and lean further back, pressing into the solid wall that is Namjoon.
“Hoseok, let it go .” Hoseok. That was his real name then. To your surprise, the dog hybrid pulls back as instructed, settling back into his seat without so much as a whine.
“I’ve never met a cat before,” he muses, turning his attention back to the window. “I hope they’re nice.”
You think about the chorus of hisses you’d been met with when you told the boys they’d have to share their space. You hope so too.
It’s 9:30 by the time Mr. Seo drops you off back in front of your building. He wishes you a good night and promises to call later in the week to discuss Black Mountain Canines. You’re not sure if there’s anyone to report him to or anything you can do, but you want to try. What you’d seen at the compound was wrong any way you looked at it. It made you sick to leave anyone there knowing how the director treated Namjoon and Hoseok. No one was useless. No one deserved to be locked away for years at a time for the sheer crime of existing. You’d make them see that.
The moment you step out of the car, Hoseok is all wide smiles and exclamations. “Woah, you live here?” he asks, tilting his head back to take in all fifty-one floors of Haneul Tower in their sparkling, glass-paned glory.
“Yeah,” you tell him, handing him his bag. In his excitement to get out of the car, he’d abandoned it and Mr. Seo had nearly driven away with it. “But I just moved in a couple days ago, so it’s still pretty empty.”
Hoseok nods, scanning the windows like he’ll be able to pick out which one’s your’s. Behind you, Namjoon is lingering on the sidewalk.
He’s still got his bonsai clutched close to his chest and he’s hunched down around it like he’s trying to stop unseen hands from picking at it. His shoulders are bunched up by his ears, and he flinches with every car horn, every siren that comes to you on the wind. He’d grown up in the mountains and spent the better part of his life indoors. It only made sense that he’d be sensitive to the sounds of the city.
“Is there a security system?” Hoseok asks, still enamored with the building. “How many entrances does your apartment have?”
“Just one second,” you tell him, forehead wrinkling as you take in Namjoon. You slide slowly toward the wolfdog, not wanting to startle him. “Namjoon?” He flinches when you call his name, head whipping toward you. “Do you wanna go inside? I know it’s new, but it’ll be quieter, I think.”
His mismatched eyes flick from you, to Hoseok, to the building and back to you before settling firmly on the concrete at his feet. He seems different than he had in the mountains. He’s smaller, quieter, less sure of himself. Was it because this is all new territory for him? Or had the snarling hybrid in the mountains just been a roll he was forced to play, the mythic monster to the director’s tyrant king.
“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to,” you tell him, in a voice you hope is reassuring. “We can wait, if you need to.”
“I’ll wait with you, Joonie,” Hope chimes in, giving the larger hybrid the same soft smile he’d given his students earlier.
He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “It...it’s fine,” he mutters, “We can go in, I just…” He takes a few hesitant steps forward and huddles closer to you. There’s still an inch between you, but it’s closer than you’d thought he’d come.
You peer up at him. “Okay?” You ask. He gives a single nod and your little group moves through the double doors and into the lobby.
It’s quieter at this time of night. You don’t recognize the woman standing behind the reception desk. There’s no one really around except one man, pacing the width of the lobby looking thoroughly put out. You can’t really see his face, but there’s something familiar about the slant of his body. He whirls around as the glass doors click shut and you catch sight of a fringe of gray hair, pointed ears, narrowed yellow eyes and an all too familiar pout.
Yoongi.
“Fuck.” You’d completely forgotten to text him. Judging by the look on his face as he stalks toward you, he wasn’t happy about it. To his credit, Hoseok does his best to guard you, sliding in front of you and pushing you behind him. You can’t see Yoongi’s ears beneath the hat he’s wearing but if his curled lip and narrowed eyes are any indicator, they’re pinned straight back.
“Move.” He snarls at the doberman hybrid. Hoseok is taller than he is, but the closer Yoongi gets to him, the smaller he seems to shrink. There’s fire in the bobcat hybrid’s eyes. Hope whimpers and slinks out of his way, ears low.
You wince. “Heeeeey, Yoongi. I’m sorry I forg-“ before you can even finish the sentence, he tugs you toward him by the shoulders. His face roves your neck, sniffing in earnest as he tries to pick up the scent of the other hybrids on you. All is well until he reaches the right side of your throat and grazes over the exact spot Hoseok had nosed earlier. He pulls away slowly, his shoulders tight. His head turns slowly to the doberman hybrid, mechanical.
“You.” He hisses at the other hybrid with so much virulence it makes your blood run cold. He takes one step toward him, teeth bared in a snarl, but Namjoon slides in front of him bumping him back. A growl bubbles in the bobcat hybrid’s chest and the wolfdog matches it, both their ears pinned flat against their skulls.
“Hey-” If either of them hear you, they don’t react. They’re too focused on having a staring contest. “Hey!” You push between them, a hand on either of their chests. Namjoon snarls as you touch him and Yoongi looks ready to skin him alive for that alone. He pushes against your hand, trying to get closer to the taller hybrid. You ball your hand up in the fabric of his shirt. “Stop it!” The receptionist already has the lobby phone in her hand. She’s whispering earnestly into it and you’re sure security will be on the way any second. You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut. “Everybody, elevator.”
Yoongi hurls an accusatory finger in Hoseok’s direction. “These fucking-”
“Yoongi, please,” you plead. That gets him to stop. His arm falls to his side and he glowers down at you for a few seconds before stalking over to the elevators and slamming the up button. “I’m sorry,” you murmur to Hoseok and Namjoon. The smaller of the two hybrids is still hunched in on himself and the taller has Yoongi fixed in his mismatched gaze, his lips curled in anger.
This was not the way you wanted this to go. You’d wanted them to have time to settle before you discussed next steps and gave them the same talk you’d given the felines, but it didn’t look like that was in the cards. You don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi. You’d thought the bobcat hybrid was calm, cool and collected, completely unflappable in the face of anything. Apparently not. He seemed upset that some of Hoseok’s scent had gotten on you, but there’d been no way to help that. You’d been packed in a car with him and Namjoon for two hours. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?
“It’s not okay,” you tell them, wanting them to know you didn’t condone the way Yoongi had acted. “I don’t...I don’t know why he’s acting like this; he doesn’t normally. Do you wanna go up separately?”
It’s Hoseok who answers. “No, we’ll go up together,” he assures you with a small nod. “If...maybe if we get used to each other, it’ll be okay?”
You’re not optimistic, but you give him a pained smile you hope is reassuring. “Yeah, maybe?” You cast a look back over your shoulders. Yoongi is waiting by the elevators, his arms crossed over his chest and his tail flicking in irritation. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Well, there was no avoiding it. “Come on,” you tell them. “Just...keep to the other side, for now. I’ll stand between you and him.”
The four of you pile into the elevator, all tucked into your own corners. It’s strange, you think. It’s never seemed small until now. Hoseok keeps casting worried looks over at you, Namjoon keeps subtly shifting closer and Yoongi is still glowering at the both of them, angry for a reason you can’t quantify.
“If it helps,” Hoseok starts softly, his voice an intrusion in the awkward silence. “I really didn’t mean to, honestly-”
“Don’t apologize.” Namjoon counters. “If it bothers him that much, he can speak up”
You don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s too late that you realize the canines aren’t addressing you. Suddenly, Yoongi’s fingers are hooked through one of your belt loops. He yanks you backwards and you stumble, falling against the length of his body. “My bad,” You shoot out, before the hybrid can hiss at you. “I just lost my bala-” The words die on your tongue as Yoongi fixes his mouth to the soft skin of your throat. The elevator goes quiet.
The canine hybrids avert their eyes almost instantaneously, instinct telling them they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t be. Yoongi keeps them fixed firmly in his sights, a dark growl bubbling in his throat.
Your fingers flex uselessly at your sides, hands clenching unclenching as the hybrid works over the sensitive skin of your neck with his teeth and tongue. ‘Don’t make a noise,’ you plead with yourself. ‘This isn’t what it feels like. Don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise-’ Yoongi’s incisors graze over a vein and a little whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it. The grip he has on your hips becomes bruising. You feel your legs turning to jelly beneath you. Any more of what he was doing, and they’d have to mop you up off the elevator floor. You force your throat to swallow. “Y-Yoongi, I think that’s enough-” You don’t know if he hears you over the noise he’s making, so you lace your fingers through his and untangle them from your hips. He releases you with a wet pop and you slap a hand over the skin he’d marked. Heat floods your face and a smirk spreads across Yoongi’s, his teeth flashing at the canines. He leans in again to rub his nose against the mark he’d made- but a hand on his chest stops him.
“Can you stop?” You ask in a small voice. Honestly, you’re embarrassed. Regardless of what the articles said about mark-making being platonic, it doesn’t feel friendly. It feels possessive and mean and you don’t like it. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you like you asked, but what is with you today?” Yoongi’s expression changes from smug satisfaction to confusion and then surprise, like he hadn’t expected you to protest. “I know what I said about you being ready but…” You rub a hand over the mark, wiping away saliva and your sweat. The bobcat hybrid visibly deflates. The elevator chimes for the fiftieth floor and the doors roll open slowly. You rush out before any of them can and start punching the code in your door with shaky fingers. You don’t know what to say. You’re tired and stressed and you don’t know what’s going on. Was this about the apartment? You knew the felines wouldn’t be happy about sharing their space, but why had Yoongi gone this far?
“Y/N…” He trails after you, his ears drooping. You shake your head, You can’t talk to him right now.
“In the morning,” you tell him as the door swings open. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” You can’t deal with everything that’s happened today, and Yoongi flipping out and getting the canines settled. You weren’t that good at juggling.
By the grace of all that’s merciful, Taehyung and Jimin are still asleep when you walk in. You’d need to have an extended meet and greet tomorrow, you decide. Maybe do some icebreakers or team building exercises. If they reacted anything like their hyung did, you were in for one hell of an adjustment period.
Hoseok and Namjoon trail you into the penthouse warily, sniffing the air. You want to give them time to explore and get their bearings, they deserve that, but with the way Yoongi still seems agitated when they venture anywhere but exactly in your steps, that’ll need to be saved until tomorrow morning too. You give them the most spartan tour you can muster up and show them each to a guest room, promising to order them furniture and get them the things they need tomorrow.
By the time you collapse into your own bed, it’s damn near 11. You groan and drag a pillow over your face as you ask the universe for the thousandth time why it had decided to continuously kick your ass. Having three hybrids had been hard enough. Having five of all different species was likely to prove impossible and having seven was going to be a sisyphean task you’d had no training for. You groan and kick your feet in the air, allowing yourself the brief respite of a temper tantrum before crawling under your covers and flicking the lamp off. Maybe in your dreams there’d be no stress and no snarling hybrids with behavior you couldn’t explain.
#thebtswritersclub#hybridbtsnetwork#bts fic#bts x reader#bts x y/n#hybrid!bts#ot7 x reader#seokjin x reader#namjoon x reader#jhope x reader#yoongi x reader#jungkook x reader#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader
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Prompt: Wei Wuxian has achieved time travel! He's gonna fix so many broken things. Unfortunately, WWX has miscalculated a teensy tiny variable and instead of arriving in his original 15yo body in Lotus Pier, he's crash landed in MXY's tiny 7~8yo body at Mo Manor. But no problem, he can fix this if he can just find his real body. (Meanwhile, Yunmeng Jiang's head disciple is acting the wrong kind of childish, aka, Mo Xuanyu is having the weirdest day of his young life.)
Switcheroo - ao3
Mo Xuanyu thought that this Wei Wuxian person whose body he’d stolen must have been a really interesting person, mostly because he’d been here for three days so far and nobody’d noticed the switch yet.
Possibly it had to do with the fact that Mo Xuanyu still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d stolen the body – he’d just gone to sleep in the shed, same as always, and then he’d woken up in the softest bed he’d ever encountered in his life…no, softer than even his dreams! He’d thought it over and concluded that he must have died from cold out in the shed, turned into a fierce ghost out of resentment, grown powerful (somehow), then stolen some rich young master’s body when they weren’t paying close enough attention and, once he’d possessed the body, promptly lost all his memory of being a ghost.
It seemed like the only logical course of events.
He was very sorry about it, though. Wei Wuxian seemed like a nice, if very unusual person.
The first day, Mo Xuanyu had barely even noticed the body-switch, being quite so enamored of the soft bed he was in – he’d refused to get out of bed at all, declaring that he was going to lie in and sleep for a century or more, and the people who’d come to the door to get him didn’t beat him or anything over it, but rather just laughed or rolled their eyes and then left him to it. Luckily, at the time, he’d just assumed he was dead or something and proceeded to ignore everything in favor of napping.
He only acknowledged that he was alive later in the afternoon, when his stomach started growling – it seemed like a very unlikely thing for a dead man’s stomach to do.
Mo Xuanyu had by that point figured out that he wasn’t himself anymore, which was fine since he didn’t much like himself; he’d also figured out, through looking himself over, that he was old now. At least fifteen or sixteen, which was twice the age he last remembered himself being. That was fine, too, though: being older meant that he was stronger and faster and would be better able to handle it when people wanted to beat him or something. Most importantly, though, it meant he was old enough to enter the kitchen on his own!
Mo Xuanyu already knew that he wasn’t allowed to eat at the main table, being only the bastard son of the younger daughter, and the cook back at home was a fierce woman who didn’t allow anyone under the age of ten into her kitchen; as a result, he had to wait for his mother to bring him back some food, and it was always cold and not quite enough. Now, though, since he was older, he figured he might as well try to go to the kitchen and fill his belly that way.
Luckily, while his current body’s house was much bigger than the Mo house, all houses were generally built along the same lines, so it wasn’t hard to find the kitchen. Everyone there laughed when he showed up, even though he’d tried to be very quiet and sneak in and then screwed it up by tripping over his own feet – it seemed like everyone thought he was doing it on purpose to be funny – and then the cooks gave him a meal of his own that was hot and fresh and wonderful.
He'd wolfed it down.
“Honestly, Wei Wuxian, you eat like a hungry ghost, you’d think the Jiang clan starves you,” one of them scolded him, but with a smile, and from that Mo Xuanyu learned that the rich young master was called Wei Wuxian and that he lived with the Jiang clan. The different surnames confused him a little, but he didn’t dare ask any questions about it, so he just stuffed his mouth and pretended that was the reason he couldn’t answer.
No one questioned it.
No one questioned it when he went wandering all around instead of doing whatever chores or duties he’d been assigned, either. Someone had actually seen him hovering by a door and asked him to bring back a pheasant when he returned, so out of lack of better options he’d headed outside to try to go find one.
He had a pretty good time walking around the forest, then remembered what he’d been asked and chased the pheasants for a while, without success . Fortunately, he then got lucky and stumbled over an old snare that had three pheasants caught inside, so he’d picked up the whole box and carted it back home.
“Three,” one of the boys in purple-blue marveled as he saw Mo Xuanyu walking towards the kitchen. “You know, people say that the birds around the Lotus Pier have gotten too smart to be caught easily, but look at our da-shixiong; he makes it look easy!”
From this, Mo Xuanyu could figure out that Wei Wuxian was (apparently!) part of a cultivator clan, apparently located at a place called the Lotus Pier, and that he was the oldest or at least head disciple, to boot. He knew all about cultivator clans from his mother, since apparently his father had been a sect leader, and that meant he knew enough to call the other boy ‘shidi’ as he passed, making the other boy beam happily.
It also meant that when he chanced a guess and called the young woman in a pretty pink dress who waved at him ‘shijie’, she smiled and nodded, which meant to him that he’d done the right thing.
“I heard you slept even more of the morning away than usual,” she told him, but didn’t seem too upset about it. “I bet that means you’ll be skipping dinner and staying up all night, hmm?”
Mo Xuanyu had no intention of skipping dinner if it was anything like what the kitchens had given him earlier, actually, but while he was still trying to figure out a way to say that, she said, leaning in close to whisper, “It’s probably a good idea, anyway – Mother and Father are fighting again. Just go to the kitchens to grab something…I promise I’ll make it up to you with some soup tomorrow, pork ribs and lotus roots, your favorite. All right?”
“Shijie, you’re the best,” Mo Xuanyu said effusively, willing to die for her at once, and she laughed and tousled his hair.
“I am,” she said, looking happy. “And if my little A-Xian stays good and obedient, I may even feed him.”
She did, too, the next day when he finally tore himself out of the beautiful wonderful soft bed and went to go find her. She’d made him soup, just as he’d promised, and laughed and laughed for some reason: apparently, she interpreted him being quiet and not talking too much as his efforts to be ‘good and obedient’, which was apparently so out of the ordinary as to be a deliberate joke.
From this, Mo Xuanyu concluded that the young master he’d possessed, Wei Wuxian, was a jackass.
Well, perhaps that was a bit harsh. Arrogant and self-centered, talented and brave and probably brilliant, definitely charming and maybe even kind, but also spoiled and inclined to step on other people to get where he wanted to go, if Mo Xuanyu had to guess – why else would everyone constantly react as if him not being obnoxious was the world’s biggest stunt?
No one seemed to expect anything of him at all: he didn’t do any chores, and no one batted an eyelid; he didn’t go where he was told, and everyone just sighed…at one point the sect leader himself came and patted him on the head, scolding him in a joking tone that he hadn’t seen him leading any of the training the way he was supposed to – but when Mo Xuanyu quailed, he’d burst out laughing, telling ‘Wei Wuxian’ to stop pretending to be a scared little rabbit, that it was fine if he’d gotten distracted by some clever new invention or whatever, that someone else would handle it, that he should take as long as he needed.
Mo Xuanyu had pasted a great big smile on his face through force of effort and agreed cheerfully.
The sect leader had accepted it.
Probably a jackass, but clearly a beloved one, Mo Xuanyu thought to himself as he packed up clothing and a few small treasures that no one would miss, a little wistful. The scare of the whole encounter had put things in perspective – he wasn’t going to be able to keep up this sort of façade for long. In fact, he was shocked he’d managed it so long already; surely, no matter how many pranks this Wei Wuxian played, no matter how childishly he behaved, surely someone should’ve noticed that he was actually an eight-year-old masquerading as a sixteen-year-old?
Mo Xuanyu couldn’t decide whether it was sad that no one paid too much attention or something that this Wei Wuxian fellow had brought down on his own head by being so consistently annoying.
Either way, there was nothing for it – he was going to have to leave.
Now that part was really sad: he’d never in his life had such good food, or such a soft bed, or even so many people that just seemed plain old happy to see him as since he’d arrived in this place. But he wasn’t the one all those things were for; he was just a sad ghost possessing a person, and if he stayed, the cultivators would eventually figure out something was wrong and exorcise him.
Probably violently.
Mo Xuanyu probably deserved it, too, but despite that he wasn’t willing.
So he packed up what he could and headed out.
He got all the way to the gate before a new purple-clad disciple – about his age, if he had to guess, and holding a pack like he’d just come back from a trip, with a scowl on his face – called out for Wei Wuxian.
Mo Xuanyu waved a little, hoping that that would be enough.
For the first time, it wasn’t.
The boy’s face settled into an even deeper scowl.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “Wei Wuxian! You’re acting all weird – hey! Where are you going?”
Mo Xuanyu was running away, obviously. He wasn’t about to get tied up and exorcised, no thank you.
He didn’t think he’d make it, but it was still worth trying.
Sure enough, the purple-clad boy who was probably called Jiang Cheng, based on what everyone was calling out as they ran by, got tired of running and jumped on his sword, and there was no way Mo Xuanyu would be able to outrun a sword, not even if he tried as fast as he –
Someone picked him up.
It wasn’t Jiang Cheng.
Mo Xuanyu turned his head and stared.
It must be some sort of yao, he thought. Humans were definitely not that pretty.
“Lan Wangji!” Jiang Cheng howled. “What are you even doing in the Lotus Pier?! Put my shixiong down!”
The rescuer, Lan Wangji, frowned a little at Mo Xuanyu.
Mo Xuanyu didn’t know exactly what expression he ought to be making in return, and was a bit too dazed to even dare to guess. He’d just noticed that they were flying – flying! on a sword! – and he was clutching onto this Lan Wangji’s shoulders for dear life.
“You are not Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said. His voice sounded very definitive.
“Uh,” Mo Xuanyu said. “Sorry? Please don’t drop me.”
“I will not. What is your name?”
“Mo Xuanyu,” Mo Xuanyu admitted, and Lan Wangji’s eyes widened as if that meant something to him – except it couldn’t, of course, because Mo Xuanyu was sure he’d never met anyone even remotely like this Lan Wangji fellow in his life. “I don’t remember taking his body. I’m sorry. Can you not exorcise me? I don’t want to die.”
Lan Wangji was silent for a long moment.
He was still flying very fast, and Jiang Cheng was still following, shouting out curses and demands that he stop, not that Lan Wangji was listening.
“There will be no exorcism,” he finally said, and Mo Xuanyu exhaled in relief. “We will, however, fix this.”
“…we?”
“Wei Ying and myself.”
Mo Xuanyu nodded. That sounded more likely than anyone relying on his participation.
“Where are we going?” he asked. Jiang Cheng was falling further and further behind.
“Mo Village.”
Mo Xuanyu tensed up at once.
“You will not be left there,” Lan Wangji clarified, and – how did he know that Mo Xuanyu didn’t want to be left there? “But we must collect Wei Ying, who I suspect is currently in your body.”
“In my…I’m still alive?”
Lan Wangji was quiet again, and then said, “Yes. And you will remain so.”
That was reassuring, mostly.
“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and found that he mostly felt relieved. He’d be very happy to have his normal body back again, if possible, especially if he didn’t have to stay in Mo Village…“Wait, if I don’t have to stay there, where will I go? I don’t have anywhere else to go, unless my father comes back for me. He's a sect leader –”
“He will not, and even if he did, you should not go with him. Once Wei Ying returns to his body, you will be able to stay at the Lotus Pier. If you do not wish to stay there, I will bring you back to the Cloud Recesses – that is my home – instead.”
“Oh,” Mo Xuanyu said, feeling bewildered. That was an awfully nice offer, even if Lan Wangji was feeling guilty about Wei Wuxian stealing his body by accident – which seemed like what had happened here rather than Mo Xuanyu being the one who did the stealing. Maybe he should go with Lan Wangji instead, he seemed much more responsible than Wei Wuxian was, rushing over to rescue him and explain things instead of throwing him into a body and leaving him all alone in a strange place. But on the other hand… “Is the Cloud Recesses…I mean…no offense, but…does it have…”
“Yes?”
“Does it have soft beds, too? And – and hot food?”
Mo Xuanyu didn’t need much, not really. He looked eagerly at Lan Wangji, who had an odd expression on his face briefly before wiping it back to neutral and nodding in confirmation.
“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and curled up in Lan Wangji’s arms. “Then I’ll stay with you. You can take care of me.”
“I will,” Lan Wangji said, sounding strangely serious. “In return for the gift you last gave me – I will.”
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the great adventures of y/n, tubbo and jack - we built a boat
requested: yes/no
this is part 10 to the great adventures series
you didn’t actually expect to be filming a vlog with tubbo and jack today, you were spending one of you last days away from home with lani at the beach, not knowing that tubbo and jack would make you join them. you ended up finding several rocks you liked and ran off to pick them up thinking tubbo would like them, so you put them in your pocket. whilst you were collecting rocks, lani was on the phone to tubbo letting him know you were actually at the beach if he wanted you to join him in the vlog.
“wait y/ns there? put them on the phone.”
“they’re in the water.”
“why?”
“ill ask, Y/N WHY ARE YOU IN THE WATER?!”
“I FOUND A ROCK THAT MATCHES RANBOOS BRAND BUT A WAVE TOOK IT AWAY FROM ME AND IM NOT LETTING POSEIDON WIN!”
“yeah they’re fighting Poseidon, where are you going to be? ill bring them to you.”
few minutes later you made your way to lani drenched in water.
“i fell…stop laughing!”
“im not!”
“you’re eyes are literally watering because you’re holding in your laughter, anyway look what i got you!”
you placed a clear quartz crystal and a piece of sea glass in lanis hand.
“thank you y/n!! wait this isn’t like your other rocks?”
“i know!! it’s clear quartz and sea glass. i felt like you should have it! i think it’s because i won the battle with Poseidon!”
“you fell.”
“shut up!”
“are you staying at ours again tonight?”
“think so… wanna turn the crystal into a necklace?”
“definitely!”
lani ended up taking you to where tubbo was, but didn’t tell you what was happening, you only found out when you looked up to see jack recording you and lani.
“hold up, guest appearance.”
“oh hi lani…y/n, guess what?”
you looked down to see the boat.
“oh fuck no!”
you walked away laughing, tubbo followed after you dragging you back to the others.
“they said they can’t wait to go on the boat with us jack!”
“how likely is he to be able to build this?? how likely are me and y/n going to drown??”
“uhm good chances!”
“of what?”
“lani, am i going to live or die?”
you laughed as lani walked away shrugging.
“tubbo how much money did you spend on this…”
“£50.”
“oh great i’m drowning today!”
you stood next to jack tilting your head as tubbo attached the sail to the pole.
“just remember if you two die, i’m in your will.”
“i didn’t write a will.”
“well that was your first mistake y/n did!”
“tubbo gets my rock collection, tommy gets whatever he wants just not the rock collection, ranboo gets whatever tommy doesn’t want, and you get what ranboo doesn’t want.”
a few minutes later you helped tubbo put the sail up whilst jack stood filming you both.
“this looks unsafe..”
“and muddy.”
“it’s unsafe and muddy but we’re trying our best.”
“jack didn’t do anything.”
“rude!”
you stood next to lani trying to convince her to go on the boat so you didn’t have to as tubbo tried to lasso jack. after being told no several times, you stood with jack whilst tubbo began to tie a figure of 8, you watched as tubbo began teaching you how to actually tie a figure of 8 using a really morbid story.
“…heh”
“why was that so morbid?”
“we like death on the tubbo channel!”
“i want to go home!”
“no!”
“okay!”
the three of you began to carry the boat out to the sea, however you crashed into something straight away.
“could be worse…could have hit a member of the public.”
“IM TRYING!”
“i can tell…it’s not good enough but i can tell.”
“…TO HIT SOMEONE!”
“NO!”
“my bad T bo!”
“what the fuck did you call me?”
as you were getting ready to go down the ramp, lani looked directly at you and tubbo who were now trying to push each other into the water.
“try not to hit little people in the water!”
“little people…”
“shall we waterproof up?”
you turned around a minute later only to have tubbo holding his phone up to your face after annoying jack with it .
“say hello.”
“hi there , please send help. i’m going to die!”
“ignore y/n, they’re just dramatic..i wouldn’t let them drown.”
you helped tubbo get the boat into the water as jack filmed the pair of you .
“it’s cold.”
“i’ve been in here before…i fell.”
“how cold was it?”
“very.”
“the weed of the sea is in my feet.”
“ew! what the fuck!”
lani noticed you had all let go of the boat and yelled at you all to grab the boat before it left you all behind, jack, and tubbo got in the boat, however you refused as lani kept yelling that the trailer was on.
“oh we’ve left the trailer on.”
“that’s what lani has been saying.”
tubbo got off to untie the trailer and you stood nervously laughing as the wheel fell off .
“i'm actually going to die!”
“it’s fineee!”
you helped jack get out the boat, so you could all fix the boat.
“he thinks we could be doing better.”
“i think everyone could think that.”
jack got on the boat first, then tubbo, who then helped you get onto the boat.
“off we go!”
for the first five minutes, the three of you sat yelling at each other what you all should be doing to make the boat go forwards.
“i quite like this.”
“we’re not moving!”
“exactly!”
soon enough you had figured it all out and waved goodbye to the others after they gave you a thumbs up.
“TO FRANCE!”
“so now what do we do?”
“pray.”
“heh?”
“to what?”
“god..say your final goodbyes we’re going to die!”
“hey that rhymed, you’re a genius!”
at this point the boat had completely stopped moving, however tubbo didn’t think this was the case, and began trying to turn the boat around as it was apparently going to shore, despite the fact you and jack were telling him you all hadn’t moved.
“so what’s the sail for?”
“i mean jack has a point you are paddling.”
“luck!”
“….HEH?”
“y/n you talk to technoblade too much.”
“i’ve been saying heh before i met tommy, what the fuck?”
“jack go up to the front, so y/n can sit next to me.”
jack moved and you sat next to tubbo.
“so how long does it take to go to france?”
“ahh you know, about 20 minutes.”
“how fast do you think we’re going bud?”
“on a, on a, on a train.”
“how would you get the train?”
“i don’t think the train can go across this..”
rather than answering that question tubbo decided he made a hit list.
“we’re going to just go through here.”
“…through where?”
“between the people.”
“NO!”
“you’re creating unnecessary danger.”
you and tubbo started bickering about why he suddenly decided that he was going to hit a bunch of people with the boat for no reason.
“fine you take control y/n!”
“tubbo you were going to kill them!”
“that’s just part of the sailing life!”
you just stared at tubbo shaking your head slightly, trying to process what just happened, then all of a sudden tubbo got up and put you in charge of controlling the boat. you were surprisingly good at it, which was lucky for tubbo and jack who were now leaning out of the boat claiming that they were hiking. they only stopped when the boat began to go faster and noticed you had no idea what you were doing.
“y/n is going to be the reason we crash!”
“yeah i will!”
“why do you sound happy about that?”
“eta france?”
“any second now.”
you decided to focus on making sure the boat was going where you wanted it to go, whilst the others yelled out to the sea occasionally yelling phrases in french as they claimed they could see the french. well you think tubbo was yelling phrases in french, however halfway through you were convinced he started just yelling things in a french accent as he revealed he didn’t actually know french, resulting in jack asking to go to russia as he knows russian.
“y/n, sail is to russia!”
“you know what i don’t wanna drive here you go jack it’s your turn.”
“I DONT KNOW HOW TO DRIVE!”
“we’re sick of this shit aren’t we y/n, jack take that…you’re on the wrong side switch sides with us.”
you all swapped sides and you and tubbo sat with your arms around each other instructing jack how to sail .
“yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“thats good now turn us and we’ll be in the wind.”
“we’re about to catch the wind.”
“JACK MANIFOLD GET READY!”
you all swapped sides again and tubbo whispered in your ear, as you sat next to him, about making the boat capsize so jack would go into the water, jack ended up doing a lot better than you and tubbo did, and you all actually started going pretty fast. however, there was absolutely no way you’d get to land any time soon. you sat laughing with tubbo whilst jack yelled about how he was a fisherman, and that’s why he was doing so well and how he studied their fins so he could find out how fish swim.
“for a £50 boat it’s done us well, look we’re sailing, the water cleaned the boat.”
“we havent died.”
“im a little wet, but not too bad.”
“must be nice.”
“oh yeah you fell earlier.”
“how?”
“they were fighting Poseidon.”
“huh?”
“they probably found a rock they liked and went to get it but it ended up in water.”
“…yeah.”
you all ended up catching the wind and tubbo decided to make you and jack do reaction images.
“help girl, i don’t know how to sail.”
“okay jack your turn, drive and film.”
“hey look i’m filming and driving!”
“no film me and y/n!”
jack filmed the pair of you, tubbo had his arm around you to prevent you from falling out of the boat as you had a habit of leaning out the boat to touch the water. you had no idea what to do so ended up copying tubbo, the pair of you took off your hats .
“tips fedora…what do you want to name our boat?”
“tubboat!”
“no way..”
“THE TUBBOATS REAL NOW!!”
it was around now you and tubbo claimed you were all drifting out to sea, and to just let the wind take you wherever it wants to, whereas jack claimed the boat wasn’t moving at all. you pointed at a boat which was moving a lot quicker than you were.
“HES GOT WIND!”
“WHERES OUR WIND?”
“he stole our wind.”
“we’re stranded jack,y/n.”
you noticed lani and waved out to her.
“LANI!”
“jacks sailing, hes getting sailing tips from my cousins!”
“great can he take us to land?”
“no.”
“YO WERE ZOOMING!”
“i hope we don’t capsize..”
“why would we?”
tubbo looked at you and you nodded back at him.
“hey jack we’re gonna tip this boat!”
and with that the pair of you stood up and began tipping the boat over whilst laughing.
“SUCKER WERE STILL DRY!”
“tubbo i’m about to fall!”
tubbo grabbed your hand keeping you up on the boat with him, you both even managed to get back in the boat without getting wet.
“no, if i’m in you have to be in too.”
jack pushed tubbo into the water tubbo then went on to pull you into the water with him.
“NO!”
“IM FREEZING!”
tubbo helped you onto the boat first as this was the second time you ended up in the water, and you were quite clearly cold, he got on after you. you sat on the boat as he filmed the outro and jumped back into the water. once jack ended the recording, you reached out your hand to tubbo helping him back onto the boat. the way back to shore was you and tubbo clinging onto each other trying to warm up, and the three of you making shit jokes, and enjoying each other’s company. you even made a few more plans for when ranboos in the uk. few hours later you had said goodbye to jack and went back to tubbos house, tubbo let you shower first while he stayed with lani as she streamed.
“chuck your clothes outside the door, i’ll put them in the dryer whilst you shower. you can change into these.”
tubbo gave you a hoodie from his merch collection that would be dropping soon, along with your pyjama pants, 30 minutes later you sat with lani whilst tubbo went off to shower, lani ended up finishing the stream after 15 minutes.
“wanna make the necklaces lani?”
“i’d love to!”
not long later tubbo joined the pair of you.
“oooh tubbo i got you some more rocks, they're over there with your phone.”
you ended up making a couple of them into necklaces for him, so the the three of you had something to help you remember the day.
“y/n, i hope you’re enjoying your stay, youll practically be living here for a few month soon.”
“wait their parents said yes?!”
“what are you all talking about?”
taglist:
@dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee
#mcyt x reader#mcyt fanfiction#mcyt writing#mcyt imagines#mcyt imagine#mcyt reader insert#mcyt fluff#dsmp reader insert#dsmp imagine#dsmp fanfic#tubbo x y/n#tubbo x you#tubbo imagine#tubbo x reader#tubbo fluff#jack manifold imagine#jack manifold fluff#jack manifold x y/n#jack manifold x you#jack manifold x reader
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Bucky Barnes Imagines - Some Sunny Day Part 1
AN: My Marvel obsession has been lying dormant since Endgame finished but Wandavision and Falcon and Winter Soldier have brought it back to life.... This is going to be a series based off the show. Kind of like my ‘Oh Dear’ fic, it’s the series with an added characters and story lines.
Summary: Before the Blip, you and Bucky were close. After you both returning and Tony’s funeral, you decided to go back to your home town to spend time with your family. When duty calls, you return.
In this chapter: You reunite with Sam and Bucky (Based on S1 EP2)
Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader
Word Count: 6,883
Warnings: Spoilers for episode 2, strong language, violence.
You and Bucky had always been close.
You were close with Steve before Bucky joined the avengers and you fought on Steve’s side during the small civil war between the avengers.
Steve was your best friend and Sam always knew how to make you smile but there was something about Bucky that was different to the rest of the avengers.
You had spent some time in Wakanda with Bucky at Steve’s request and you two had always fought side by side and it crushed Steve when you both taken during the blip and he wasn't.
When you returned, you were thrust back into battle almost immediately. The final fight against Thanos which resulted in you losing Tony and then Steve.
Nothing seemed to matter except the fact you had been gone for 5 whole years. You had missed 5 whole years with your friends and family. They had changed whilst you were gone and you came back the same as you left.
When Steve returned the infinity stones, he hadn’t given you warning that he wasn’t coming back the same age he was going in but he had warned Bucky. They had spoken about it before apparently and after everything, you felt kind of betrayed.
You knew you’d never understand Steve’s choice but it was his choice. You were just upset Bucky didn’t warn you.
You returned to your home town after that day.
You returned to find some people had changed and some hadn’t but you knew you wanted to be around and spend time with them.
After all the years fighting for the avengers and only calling every once in a blue moon. It seemed to finally dawn on you that you should spend time with them whilst you still could.
However, that only lasted around 6 months before you found yourself answering a phone call from Sam.
You were at a birthday party for one of your old school friend’s daughters when you felt your phone go off.
You put down one of the little girls who had be asking you a hundred questions about being apart of the avengers and excused yourself from the party.
“Tell me why I got an awful feeling when I saw your caller ID come up on my phone.” You answered, folding your free hand under your arm as you leant against the wall.
“It’s cause your subconscious is reminding you about that one time you said no when I asked you out on a date and you regret that now.” Sam’s voice instantly made you crack a smile.
“Or maybe it’s because every time I get a call from you it’s to do with the world ending or something worse.” You shot back.
“It’s good to hear your voice too.” Sam chuckled at your comment before he had responded.
“So what’s going on? I haven’t heard much from you in months.” You asked.
“That’s around the time you up and left us for the old way of living.” Sam reminded you that you were the one that decided to go cold agent and return home.
“There isn’t anything wrong with a little quiet.” You told him as you looked back through the window to the children that were the opposite of quiet.
“No there isn't.” Sam agreed, “However, I got a situation here at the moment that I could really use your help with.”
“I guess it’s a bit bigger than the usual military op or you wouldn’t be calling?” You frowned. You were in the loop enough to know Sam had been apart of the airforce these past 6 months and had been taking part in frequent missions but nothing that concerned you.
“I’m sending you over the details now. I’d appreciate it if you could come.” Sam sent you through a file and you pulled your phone away from your ear to open it.
“You don’t need to convince me, Sam. I’ll be there since I know you wouldn’t ask unless it was serious.” You answered honestly.
“Guess I’ll be seeing you soon then.” You could practically hear Sam’s smirk through the phone.
“Depends how quick I can get a bag together and your jet can get me to you.” You told him as you picked up your jacket from the coat rack.
“Well it’s no Red Wing but it’s pretty fast.” Sam stated. “Oh and (Y/n)... You haven’t seen the news in the past hour or so, have you?”
“No? Why?” You frowned at the hesitation in Sam’s voice.
“Just... take a look.” Sam told you before you ended the call.
You opened up the news on your phone and what you saw made your mouth go dry and your stomach drop.
‘JOHN WALKER; NEW CAPTAIN AMERICA’
You felt an anger rise up in you as you watched the wannabe waltz onto screen with Steve’s shield in his paws.
When Sam gave up the shield, you didn’t know how to feel at first but now... now you weren’t surprised Sam didn’t elaborate on what he wanted you to see.
You said your apologies and your goodbyes pretty swiftly and you had already stashed an emergency bag ready to go under your bed so you were soon on your way.
It didn’t take terribly long to get to the air base where Sam was waiting for you.
“Who the hell is this guy and why is he calling himself the new Captain America?”
“Nice to see you too.” Sam wasn’t surprised at the attitude once you stepped off the plane.
“Sam, first you call me up to help deal with this wannabe terrorist group and now I just find out that Steve’s shield, which you gave up, is being held by some wannabe superhero.” You dumped your bag on the floor as you closed the gap between you and Sam.
“Trust me, I’m not happy about it either and I knew nothin about it but we have bigger fish to fry right now so can we cut the dramatic and get to actually saying hello?” Sam stared down at you with his hands on his hips.
You sighed and gave in.
You wrapped your arms around the man and hugged him warmly.
“I’m sorry. I just––”
“–I know.” Sam didn’t need your apology. He understood how you were feeling. You both loved Steve so much.
“Miss (Y/N)(Y/L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you.” A voice brought your attention away from Sam to a man approaching you both.
“(Y/n), Torres. Torres, (Y/n).” Sam introduced you to the uniformed man and you shook his hand politely.
“Nice to meet you.” You weren’t sure if you had gotten used to the way most civilians looked at you after you became apart of the avengers. When you joined you didn’t realise becoming famous would be apart of the gig.
“I’m sorry to interrupt but Miss (Y/L/N) has to come with me to get logged into the clearance system and sort out a couple things.” Torres pointed over his shoulder as he explained.
“And by that he means sign an autograph for his kid sister.” Sam teased the man.
“What?” Torres’ cheeks tinged pink. “No!”
“It’s alright. Lead the way.” You picked up your bag and sent a quick smile to Sam before turning back to Torres. “Oh and you can call me (Y/n) by the way.”
It didn’t take too long for Torres to fill you in on Sam’s plan for the mission as he logged in a few details so you could have clearance around the airbase.
You did end up signing an autograph after a little tiptoeing around the question and then by the time you walked back out into the open you spotted someone you hadn’t expected to see.
It was Bucky.
“Looking good for a senior citizen.” You spoke up as you approached Sam and Bucky.
Bucky had his back to you but the sound of your voice soon paused his conversation with Sam and he spun around.
“Hey Buck.” You smiled but you couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous. “Long time no see.”
“(Y/n).” Bucky stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you.
You chuckled at his tight embrace but hugged him back just as tight all the same.
“You, uh, you look good.” Bucky cleared his throat as he pulled away from you.
“If you’ll excuse us, Casanova, we got places to be.” Sam tried to pull you away from Bucky but Bucky only followed.
“I’m coming with you.” Bucky announced.
“No, you’re not!” Sam argued.
You hadn’t missed the men’s bickering...
In spite of Sam’s protest, Bucky ended up on the flight anyway.
“So how’s it been away from the Avengers?” Bucky asked you as you both prepared for the mission.
Sam was up with Torres in the cockpit so you and Bucky were alone for the first time since you saw each other.
“It’s been okay. Spending time at home. Doing non-hero regular folk stuff.” You chuckled weakly as you pulled off your sweater. Bucky’s eyes fell to your chest as you had only wore a vest underneath. You felt your cheeks burn as you pretended not to notice.
“Uh, same.” Bucky cleared his throat before he spoke.. “Been strange without you around.”
“Buck, you know I needed time away from everything. From Sam, from you... After Steve, I...” You let your words drop away.
There was a short silence before Bucky decided to change the subject.
“I’ve been seeing a therapist. Court mandated. She’s got me doing this whole redemption thing. Contacting people in my past. Making things right.”
“And how’s that going for you?” You couldn’t help but smirk slightly at the idea of Bucky forcing himself to face his past at the request of a therapist.
“Well I have three rules I’m meant to stick to and let’s say I’m not exactly following them closely.” Bucky admitted as he folded his hoodie.
“Does your therapist know that?” You cocked an eyebrow at the man with a light amused expression.
“What do you think.” Bucky smirked back at you.
“Be careful. I might tell on you.” You sighed playfully.
“You’re actually on the list.” Bucky suddenly confessed. “I wanted to make things right after...” Bucky paused for a moment. “...After Steve. I should have warned you. Should have told you the truth.”
“Bucky.” You stopped him. “It’s okay. Steve made a choice and he chose to talk to you about it. You’re his best friend and the only other person on the team who could’ve really understood why he did what he did. I’m not holding it against you.”
“I’m still sorry.” Bucky looked you in the eyes as he spoke, “You were with him for so long when I wasn’t around. You should’ve got a real warning.”
“Thanks Buck.” You pressed your lips into a brief sad smile before looking down at your boots.
“I’ve really missed you, (Y/n).” Bucky uttered.
“I really missed you too.” You stopped tying your lace to look up at the man.
His short hair had really revealed his face and you couldn’t help but notice every part of it. The lines by his eyes when he smiled, the curve of his lips, the shadow that was just coming on.
You straightened up and stepped towards the man.
“I like the new haircut by the way.” You reached up and let your fingers brush the top of his forehead. “Makes you look almost like a civilian.”
Bucky couldn’t help but feel his body tense under your touch.
“You look tired though.” You let your hand drop down to his cheek. “Not been sleeping well?”
Bucky forced himself to move away from your touch.
“Bad dreams.” Bucky murmured.
“I figured therapy might have been helping you with those.” You frowned, “I remember sharing wake up duty with Steve like it was yesterday.”
“Every time it was your turn you’d make hot coco.” Bucky reminded you. It brought back images of you and Bucky sat in a small kitchen drinking hot chocolate that you had made despite Bucky’s insisting that he didn’t want any.
“Seems like a lifetime ago.” You smiled but the memories only made you feel dismal. It seemed those were simpler times. Steve was still around, at least.
Bucky handed you your jacket in the silence and you took it gratefully.
“I’m not interrupting something, am I?” Sam said rather loudly as he climbed down the ladder.
“No, we were just getting ready which is what you should be doing.” You picked up Sam’s bag and tossed it to him which he caught effortlessly. “I’m going to check a few things with Torres. Try not to kill each other whilst I’m gone.”
Bucky watched you climb the ladder up to the cockpit and Sam watched Bucky.
“I’ll never understand why you won’t just shoot your shot with the girl.” Sam shook his head as he opened his duffle.
“Shoot my what?” Bucky glared over at the man with confusion clear in his eyes.
“Your shot, man. (Y/n) has clearly been in love with you since Steve dragged your ass onto the team. What she sees in you compared to this, I’ll never understand but she clearly sees something.” Sam had gestured to himself when he spoke but Bucky just rolled his eyes.
“Maybe instead of talking about (Y/n), you should actually tell me what the plan is?” Bucky suggested as he zipped up his jacket securely.
“How about you stop avoiding your feelings?” Sam retorted which made Bucky shut up and sit down.
“I’m not avoiding my feelings.” Bucky grumbled as he glared at the man.
“Yeah right.” Sam scoffed, shaking his head as he started to change.
You didn’t return to the boys until you were approaching the drop off.
“(Y/n), you’ll be out first.” Torres explained as you put in your ear piece, trying your hardest to ignore Bucky and Sam starring daggers at each other behind you.
“Great. See you on the ground, fellas.” You jumped from the aircraft just as you heard Bucky ask what the plan was in your earpiece.
You had to jump earlier then the men since you were approaching the building from another angle but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hear them bicker still on the aircraft.
When you reached the warehouse, you remained hidden in the trees. You watched several people start to load two trucks with large boxes.
“You’re doing the staring thing again. They’re in there.” You heard Sam’s voice in your earpiece. He must have been talking to Bucky inside the warehouse.
“Where’s the guy?” Bucky asked.
“I don’t know. I think they’re smuggling weapons, though.” Sam responded before you could.
“Well, I think you could be right.” Bucky agreed with a passive aggressive tone. “But there’s only one way to find out. I see a clear path. I say we take it.”
“We’re not assassins.” Sam argued with Bucky.
“I’ll see you inside or not.” Bucky must've walked away from what you could hear.
“Hey, come on, man. I’m just messing with you! Come back.” You could practically see Sam’s smile in your head.
“If you guys are done, I have a visual on the targets. They’re loading up two red trucks.”
“We’re moving up now.” Bucky replied to you.
“Look at you. All stealthy.” Sam was teasing him. “A little time in Wakanda and you come out White Panther.”
“It’s actually White Wolf.” Bucky corrected him and Sam’s reaction almost made you laugh out loud.
You tried to move closer to the trucks to see exactly what was going inside but it was risky with the group constantly checking around them.
“All right, I’m inside. Therefore, way ahead of you. It’s not great, but very doable.” Bucky’s voice came up again. “Hello. How are you?” Bucky sounded irritated. Sam must've snuck up on him.
“Good. What did I miss? Nothing.” Sam whispered back.
“All right, let’s go.” Bucky commanded but Sam stopped him.
“No, wait.”
“I got a vibranium arm. I can take them.” Bucky held up his arm as he fought against Sam’s halt.
“And I can fly. Who gives a shit?” Sam muttered. “Wait. I want to see where they’re going.”
“Guys I may not be in the same location as you but I can hear everything you’re saying so quick the arguing” You whispered lowly as you kept your eyes trained on the trucks.
You tried to zone out the boys bickering as you crept forward. A crashing noise from inside the warehouse made you jump back and hide as the flash smasher members all stopped and looked.
“Be careful.” You hissed at the both of them.
“It wasn’t my fault.” Bucky tried to defend himself but frankly you didn't care. The trucks were staring to close up and their engines switched on.
You watched the people pile into the trucks and you dived over, taking hold of the backdoors and clinging on.
“They have a hostage.” Sam told you as the trucks drove off with you attached.
“Then get moving.” You commanded. You pulled open the door you were hanging to and opened it.
“No sight of a hostage in here.” You informed Sam as you looked around. “Just boxes of vaccines.”
“I found her.” Bucky must've gotten inside the other truck. “Hi. You okay?” Bucky’s voice was then followed by a crashing sound.
However, you had your own problems...
You heard a loud bang behind you and you turned to see two men at the end of the truck. They both had masks on.
“Cute masks.” You taunted them before they charged at you.
You threw three knives at them, two managed to hit one of the men in the thigh and chest but the second man had knocked the third one away.
You went to attack the uninjured one first as he drew closer, you punched him but he was strong. He didn’t even flinch.
You felt a small panic in your chest as you started to fight. He was taking moves that would usually floor someone like he was being attacked by a pillow.
You managed to get him to the ground by wrapping your thighs around his neck and flipping him over you before you threw another knife at the injured soldier. He seemed to retreat, climbing out of the truck and onto the roof.
“Could use some back up, Sam!” You called out as you followed.
You climbed up onto the roof and the first soldier chased after you. The injured one grabbed hold of Bucky along with a third guy and so you were left with the big one.
You heard Redwing shooting at the roof before you saw it but a redheaded female smashed it in half like it was but a plastic toy.
With that, Sam finally swooped in and started throwing punches.
He was thrown to the other roof as you continued to fight your own battle. You were getting tired and his punches seemed to only be getting stronger and more painful each time.
You pulled out another knife but he grabbed your wrist and squeezed. You couldn’t help but cry out at the pressure, you dropped it before he could break your wrist.
Then suddenly a helicopter appeared from what seemed like nowhere. Cap’s shield bounced off one of Sam’s attackers as two new bodies joined the fight.
The distraction allowed you to kick your attacker off the truck and start to help Bucky.
“Sam, John Walker; Captain America.”
“Lemar Hoskins.”
“Looks like you guys could use some help.” Walker and his sidekick introduced themselves.
A surge of rage from the introduction of ‘Captain America’ helped you regain some adrenaline. You turned and started to fight once again.
You let yourself become distracted as Bucky fell from the side of the truck which allowed one of the guys to send you off the truck too.
Sam was quick to fall back with his suit and grab you before you hit the concrete road. However, the impact of him grabbing you did leave you winded.
“Bucky.” You wheezed as the man settled you on the side of the road.
Sam flew up and chased after the trucks.
You took a moment, wincing at your aching body before you rose to your feet and took off in their direction.
You couldn’t catch up to the trucks but it didn’t take long to find Bucky and Sam once you spotted they were both coming out of a field.
“If someone told me I’d be fighting a whole bunch of super soldiers today I would’ve wore my nice pants.” You stated as you approached the two men.
“We knew they were strong but not like this.” Sam defended himself from your anger.
“One of those guys took a knife to the chest and could still walk away.” You threw your arms up as you informed him. This was so much worse than the documents had described.
“It’s going to take a lot more than just a knife to stop these guys.” Bucky’s eyes seemed to carry a storm as he thought.
“How can this be possible? I thought the super soldier serum was gone. What happened in Siberia was supposed to have put an end to it all.” You remembered the failed super soldiers as clear as day.
“We know about as much as you, (Y/n). Unless you tried to, you know, your weird seeing thing?” Sam asked.
“No. It takes it out of me and I can’t do it whilst I’m trying to fight for my life so.” You shook your head as you walked beside the men. Whilst you weren’t as powerful as some of the Avengers, you were a great assassin like Natasha Romanoff. Your talent was your knife throwing but under all the training and all the knowledge, there was a gift. A gift you’d had since birth.
If you touched someone, you could see their entire past, everything they had experienced up until that moment. It really drained you of your energy and over the years you trained yourself so that you could switch it on and off so it didn’t happen every time you touched someone but when you did use it, it usually required a lie down afterwards.
“Sorry about Redwing.” Bucky spoke up after a moment of silence.
“No, you’re not.” Sam rolled his eyes at the fake apology before asking: “What’s going on in that big cyborg brain of yours?”
“It’s computing.” Bucky grumbled.
“You know what? I can actually see it. I can see the gears turning. Oh, they’re malfunctioning, shutting down. Yep, they’re on fire.” Sam couldn’t help but make fun of Bucky which only made you walk ahead of the men. You weren’t in the mood for this.
“We gotta figure out where the serum’s coming from.” You said to stop their silliness.
“Yeah. And how in the hell after 80 years are there eight Super Soldiers runnin’ loose?” Sam agreed with you just as a transport vehicle began to pull up along side him.
“So that didn’t go as planned, huh?” John Walker’s voice penetrated the space like a foul smelling fart.
He opened the truck’s door to allow you all to hop in but you all ignored him.
“Alright. Let’s keep going.” He told the driver before directing his attention back to you. “Look, at least we know what we’re up against now, huh? And we’re pretty sure it’s one of the Big Three, so…”
"Aliens, androids, or wizards?” Sam spoke up just to prove to Bucky that others knew of the ‘Big Three.’
“Pretty sure.” Walker nodded.
“There’s no such thing as wizards.” Bucky exclaimed which made you cock an eyebrow at the man. You clearly missed a conversation here.
“Then it’s aliens, or androids.” Walker shrugged as if it were obvious.
“––Or Super Soldiers.” Sam added.
“Shit. Super Soldiers, for real?” Walker’s colleague responded with the reaction you just about expected.
“Yeah.” Sam confirmed.
“Wow. All right, well, then we gotta work together.” Walker’s eyebrows rose as he spoke.
“That’s not happening.” Bucky declared.
“I think we stand a much better chance if we all just––”
“––Just ’cause you carry that shield, it doesn’t mean you’re Captain America.” Bucky cut Walker short and you were grateful for it. The man was making your head ache.
“Look, I’ve done the work, okay?” Walker sighed.
“You ever jump on top of a grenade?” Bucky shot back but he wasn't met with the answer he wanted.
“Yeah. Actually, I have. Four times. It’s a thing I do with my helmet. It’s a reinforced helmet. It’s a long story, but, any… Look, it’s 20 miles to the airport. You guys need a ride.” Walker got his driver to stop. “Get in.”
You looked back at Sam and Bucky. You hadn’t said anything yet which Sam thought was a record of yours. You chose to give in and climbed into the truck with Bucky and Sam since your body was already aching from the previous fight.
“Okay, so we’ve got eight Super Soldiers on a bulk supply run. Why?” Walker asked, his eye on you as you sat in between Bucky and Sam.
“They say their mission is to get things back to the way it was during the Blip. Maybe they’re just trying to help.” Sam told Walker what he knew.
“They had a funny way of showing it.” Bucky grimaced as a bruise on his face started to form.
“That serum doesn’t exactly have a great track record. No offence.” Walker looked over at Bucky as he hinted at the winter soldier.
“We need to figure out where they’re going.” You wanted to shift the attention away from Bucky.
“She speaks? I have to admit I was starting to wonder.” Walker smiled at you which only made you want to punch him even more than you already did.
“How’d you track ’em here? The Flag Smashers?” Sam could tell you were a second away from decking the new Captain America and hopping ship so carried on the conversation.
“Uh, no, we didn’t track them, we tracked you, uh, through Redwing.” Hoskins notified Sam.
“You hacked my tech?” Sam was beyond irritated at this point.
“Sorry. It’s not exactly hacking. It’s government property. Kind of the government.” Walker laughed as he gestured to himself. “Does he always just stare like that?” He stopped laughing under Bucky’s stare.
“You get used to it.” Sam muttered.
“Okay, look, you know, things have gotten kind of, uh––”
“––Chaotic.”Hoskins helped Walker find the word.
“Yeah.” Walker cleared his throat. “The GRC, they’re doing the best they can to get things up and running smoothly, post Blip.”
“Reactivating citizenship, social security, healthcare. Basically just managing resources for the refugees who were displaced by the return.” Hoskins tried filling you in as if you hadn't heard about it before. The GRC propaganda was plastered across all the cities in America.
“The Global Repatriation Council does all that. We understand but why exactly are you two here?” You questioned, cocking your head towards Walker.
“Well, they provide the resources and we keep things stable.” Hoskins replied first.
“Yeah, violent revolutionaries aren’t usually good for anyone’s cause.” Walker added on.
“Usually said by the people with the resources.” Sam smirked at the men.
“Well, we got a lot of resources. If you guys, if you joined up with us, we could––”
“––No.” Bucky shut Walker down immediately.
“I got mad respect for both of y’all. But you were getting your asses kicked till we showed up.” Hoskins wasn’t helping the situation.
“Who are you?” Bucky asked genuinely.
“Lemar Hoskins.” Hoskins introduced himself once again.
“Look, I see a guy hanging out of a helicopter in tactical gear, I need a lot more than Lemar Hoskins.” Sam backed Bucky up on that one. A name was nothing in this situation.
“I’m Battlestar. John’s partner.” Hoskins nodded towards Walker and you couldn't stop the smile that spread across your lips when Bucky responded.
“Battlestar? Stop the car!” Bucky called up ahead.
The car slowed as it pulled into a bus stop. Bucky pushed open the door and you followed. You couldn't stand sitting in front of that man in that uniform another second longer.
"Look, I… I get it, okay? I get the attitude, I do. You didn’t think that the shield was gonna end up here. I get it, Bucky. And I’m… “ Walker turned back to Sam. “I’m not trying to be Steve. I’m not trying to replace Steve. I’m just trying to be the best Captain America I can be. That’s it. It’d be a whole lot easier if I had Cap’s wingmen on my side.”
Sam scoffed at Walker’s choice of words. Wingmen? He really had the audacity.
“It’s always that last line.” Sam jumped out of the vehicle and followed you and Bucky.
Once back on the aircraft you stripped of your weapons and jacket.
Sam and Bucky did the same.
You sat down on your seat and rested your head back against the wall. You needed an ice bath. Your muscles were screaming at you.
“You alright?” Sam asked Bucky as he sat, his eyes locked on the floor.
You opened your eyes to look over at the men.
“Let’s take the shield, Sam. Let’s take the shield and do this ourselves.” Bucky sounded pretty decided.
“We can’t just run up on the man, beat him up, and take it. Do you remember what happened the last time we stole it?” Sam sat up slowly as he furrowed his brow at the idea.
“Maybe.” Bucky grumbled.
“I’ll help you in case you forgot.” Sam proclaimed, “Sharon was branded enemy of the state, and Steve and I were on the run for two years. I don’t know about you, but I don’t wanna live the rest of my life la vida loca. We just got our ass handed to us by Super Soldiers, and we got nothing.”
Even though you did spend some time in Wakanda under protection from their government, there was a period where you were on the run with Steve and Sam and it wasn’t fun. Being pardoned after the fight against Thanos was one of the best things that happened to you; it’s what allowed you to go home.
“Not entirely true.” Bucky pushed himself onto his feet. “There is someone that you should meet.”
Bucky’s eyes met yours and you knew who he was talking about.
You had seen Bucky's past. Everyone of Bucky’s memories. You had seen all the death and the pain and the fighting. You had seen the Winter Soldier and pre-world war Bucky and you had suffered for it for some time. Nightmares used to plague you but you had managed to block most stuff from your mind over the years. Especially the Winter Soldier memories because that wasn’t really Bucky; that was a weapon made by Hydra.
You had been forced by the team to check his memories to see if he really had bombed the UN but you couldn't choose how far you looked back, you gift made you see everything from the earliest childhood memory up to that moment.
You stood and approached Bucky.
“Are you sure about this?” You whispered, taking hold of Bucky’s forearm as you pulled him to one side.
“He should know.” Bucky’s eyes seemed so sure. You dropped your hand down from his arm to his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Alright then.” You pressed your lips into a thin line as you accepted his choice.
Soon enough the route was changed and the plane turned.
“Will you come?” Bucky asked as the door to the plane opened.
“I’ll wait here but call me if you need me.” You didn’t feel like seeing Isaiah. Some of the time if something from Bucky’s past showed up it could trigger his memories in your own head which you didn’t particularly enjoy.
“Alright.” Bucky sighed but left without you.
Only a short while later you had received a phone call from Sam.
“Hello?” You answered.
“It’s Bucky. He’s been arrested. There was a warrant out for his arrest.” Sam informed you.
“Why?” You were confused. Bucky had been pardoned like the rest of you for his crimes and his warrant wiped.
“He missed his therapy session or something. I’m heading back to your, we gotta go get him out.” Sam hung up pretty quickly.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone about the super solider?” Sam asked you as you made your way to the station.
“I only knew because I’ve been inside Bucky’s head but if I listed off every single person Bucky has fought or killed or wronged it would take me a while.” You hated admitting that but the Winter Soldier had done a lot of damage.
“But this was a black super soldier who rotted behind bars for years! Being experimented on like a lab rat whilst Steve sat in the ice and Bucky ran around playing secret assassin!” Sam was angry and you understood why.
“I didn’t know he was in prison. I only knew of him as the guy Bucky fought in Goyang and lost. I figured if Bucky wanted him found then he would say. It’s not my place, they’re not my memories.” You tried to defend yourself but you knew Sam would never understand your logic.
“How can I trust you if you’re sitting on information like that?” Sam catechised you.
“Because you’ve trusted me for years. I say what needs to be said and if it isn't useful to us at the time then I don’t bring it up. I have so much inside of here from people that aren’t even around more. When I go inside someone’s head the memories don’t just go away. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s memories I’m thinking of when I look back on things. I block what I can and deal with what I can’t.” You stopped Sam in the hallway as you snapped. You couldn’t believe he was questioning whether he could trust you or not after everything.
“I know it can be hard for you. I can’t imagine what its like but there are some things more important than others and Isaiah. Isaiah is one of them.” Sam’s words just made you turn and head to the desk.
You tried to get as much information about Bucky but all they instructed you to do was sit and wait.
“Sam?” A woman approached you and Sam. You lifted your head up at the sound of her voice. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Dr. Raynor. I’m James’s therapist.”
You shook hands with the woman and introduced yourself.
“I’ve heard some about you too.” Dr. Raynor smiled as she greeted you.
“Thank you for getting him out.” Sam thanked her as he shook her hand but she only furrowed her brow.
“That was not me.” She told you both.
“Christina!” You didn’t need super hearing to recognise that voice. “Good to see you again!” Walker was signing autographs as he entered the station.
“You gotta be kidding me. You know him?” Sam only said what you were thinking.
“Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day.” Dr Raynor looked between Sam and Walker.
“I heard you were working with Bucky, so I thought I’d step in.” Walker approached her which made you stepped back. “Bucky’s not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer.”
“We haven’t finished our work. Who authorized this?” Dr Raynor protested.
“Um…” Walker pointed to himself. You felt a fire flare inside of you. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have tied up. Just do whatever you got to do with him, then send him off to me. Got some unfinished business, him and I.”
Walker then pointed to you and Sam.
“You too, Wilson. (Y/l/n). I’ll be outside.” Walker backed away, sending a wink in your direction.
You felt Sam take hold of your wrist quickly before you could even take the chance to lunge forward.
“Breathe.” Sam told you. “We’ll deal with that asshole later.”
Bucky was allowed through and Dr Raynor approached him immediately.
“James, condition of your release, session now. You too, Sam.” She insisted as she headed back towards the cells from which Bucky had just come from.
“That’s okay. I’ll be out here with (Y/n).” Sam brushed off the offer except it wasn’t an offer.
“That wasn’t a request.” Dr Rayor warned him.
You pushed the man forward.
“Quicker you’re in, quicker you’re out.” You told him.
“Why doesn’t she want you?” Sam pouted.
“Get moving before I get bored and decide to use John Walker out there as my new punching bag. Get myself in trouble.” You tried to make the man laugh but failed. He only groaned and dragged himself inside.
It didn’t take long for Sam to storm out of there who was swiftly followed by Bucky.
“Hey, you okay?” You asked Sam as he returned to you.
“Peachy.” He sneered.
You sighed and followed both men outside.
“Well, I feel better.” Sam announced once you were all finally outside.
“I feel awful.” Bucky muttered which made you want to take his hand but you refrained as a siren drew your attention over to Walker and his buddy.
“Gentlemen. Lady. Good to see you again.” Walker had a smile on that you wanted to wipe clean off. “ Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.”
“Well do you have anything that’s actually useful?” You folded your arms across your chest as you closed in on the men.
"Well, the leader’s name’s Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.” Walker started.
“They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.” Hoskins continued.
“We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.” Walker finished.
“Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since the Blip. So I guess you’ll have to look real hard.” Bucky’s glowered at the man as he leant on the cop car.
“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?” Walker smirked as he snapped back.
“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” Bucky rose his voice.
“No, we don’t know, Bucky. It’s only a matter of time before we find out.” Walker rose his voice also.
“Things are really intense for you, aren’t they, Walker?” Bucky was being cocky. You had to stop yourself from finding it amusing.
“Take it easy. Look, Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kind of authorizations you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.” Sam interrupted and seemed to clear the air a little. You took his last words as a chance to leave but Walker wasn’t done.
“A word of advice, then.” Walker stopped you all. “Stay the hell out of my way.”
You watched the two men walk away. Your jaw clenching together to stop you from saying something you’d regret.
“Come on.” Sam urged you on and you forced yourself to walk away.
Once you were far enough from the station Sam asked you both what you were thinking.
“Well, I know what we have to do. When Isaiah said ‘my people’...” Bucky was the one of out you both to speak first.
“Oh, don’t take that to heart. That’s not what he meant.” Sam began.
“No, he meant HYDRA. HYDRA used to be my people.” Bucky corrected him.
“Not a chance.” You shook your head, putting your foot down.
“Walker doesn’t have any leads.” Bucky claimed.
“Bucky, I know where you’re going with this and I’m saying no.” You couldn’t believe he was even suggesting it.
“He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets.” Bucky tried to reason with you.
“Don’t you remember Siberia?” Sam also knew exactly what Bucky meant.
Bucky nodded.
“So you’re just gonna go sit in a room with this guy?” Sam stared at Bucky with a mixture of shock and concern.
“Yes.” Bucky was hesitant to answer which only made you hate this idea even more.
“Okay, then.” Sam sighed. “We’re gonna go see Zemo.”
“No! No, we aren’t not going to see Zemo!” You demanded causing both the boys to stop.
“(Y/n), it’s different now.” Bucky declared.
“It’s the only lead we got.” Sam was actually on Bucky’s side.
“What? And you think he’s just gonna help us like that?” You scoffed out of disbelief.
“We have to try.” Bucky started to walk again.
“I trust this guy about as far as I can throw him, Buck!” You exasperated.
“That’s more than me.” Sam murmured but you chose to ignore it.
“(Y/n). We’re going.” Bucky wasn't arguing anymore. It was going to happen.
(PART 2 HERE)
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Be Careful What You Wish For
Lena laughed as she completed the last question of this little online contest she was participating in. The invitation had appeared in her email one day along with a link, and she had curiosity followed that link to a website that described the contest. All Lena would have to do is answer a few questions correctly before other "participants" and she would be the winner of "her fondest wish!!" Lena had laughed at this, thinking this was a fun little game someone had put up, and though she did not take it seriously at all, she decided to join in the fun. Where was the harm in it?? She was bored at the moment after all.
The "contest" consisted of a few straightforward questions that she was easily able to answer. Shaking her long blonde hair out of her face, Lena's bright blue eyes watched as the site processed her answers, then a message popped up on her screen: "Congratulations, you have won the contest!! You may now make your wish!! What do you desire??" Lena giggled as she jokingly pondered this question, then typed in the first thing that popped into her head: "I wish to live forever!!" Laughing softly as she hit the send button, saw "Your wish is granted! Thank you for playing!" And closed the window, Lena thought, "This was a cute, fun little distraction, but now I gotta finish chores!"
A couple hours later, Lena plopped into her living room lounge chair, rubbing her belly. She felt somewhat sick and bloated, but she was also exhausted from laundry and housework, so she figured she was just hungry and worn out. Shaking off the feeling, she decided that after she rested for a while, she'd make herself a sandwich. Another hour passed, with Lena watching TV when she looked down and saw a shock!! Her normally small petite belly had expanded outward, making her look very pregnant!! She gasped in horror, and jumped to her feet, a mistake that nearly sent her crashing to the floor, for she was not used to the balance of her new belly. She felt heavy, and full, confused as to how this had happened to her! "I'm having an allergic reaction, she thought anxiously. "That has to be it!!" "I've caught some sort of virus and I'm having a reaction to..." Her thoughts trailed away as she felt movement in her belly, and she absentmindedly rubbed it. "I... I can't be pregnant," she blurted out to her empty house. "I've never had sex... this has to be a bad dream, right??"
Lena waddled into her bedroom and reached the nearby bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked nine months pregnant, her belly hanging out of the clothes she had been wearing on the body that had been so small and slim just a few hours ago. She was still confused and scared as to what had happened to her when suddenly, she doubled over as a painful contraction hit her. Lena gasped as she felt pressure build up, then a gush of water leaked out of her, soaking her bottoms.
"UUUGGHHH", Lena moaned as she slowly made her way back into her bedroom. She reached the bed and climbed on it, as she felt something heavy drop onto her hips. Frantically, she kicked off her pants as she felt huge pressure in her pussy. She could not help but push, screaming in pain. "AAAAHHHHHH!!" Lena felt a burning sensation as whatever was coming out of her began to crown. She struggled to get her panties off, panting and crying as the pain peaked. As the head emerged farther, causing a bulge to form in her underwear, she screamed a high pitched scream and whined as the burning and pressure worsened. She knew she had to get her panties off, or it would block the baby that she was somehow delivering, so she gritted her teeth through the pain and pulled her underwear down to her feet. She then began kicking, not just to get the panties off her feet, but because the pain was so bad, it caused her to thrash around like crazy. She whined and moaned and cried as she felt the heavy head slowly push out, stretching her pussy wide. Screaming, she pushed, willing this process to go faster. "THIS HURTS!!!" she yelled, though she knew no one else was in the house. Finally, she felt a pop and knew the head had finally gotten out. Without waiting another second, Lena pushed, brushing her sweaty blonde hair out of her face, and felt relief as the baby left her body.
For about a minute, Lena lay there, shaking, hardly able to believe what had just happened to her. Then, something in her mind clicked as she realized "Wait, if I just had a baby, shouldn't it be crying??" Lena slowly moved around so she could pick up the baby she had just birthed, noting three distinct things about it: First, it did not have a umbilical cord attached to it, just a belly button. Second, the baby was a girl, with blonde hair the same general shade as Lena's, and third, the baby was not crying, but Lena could clearly see that it was alive and healthy, almost content. Her eyes were closed and she moved around and kicked, as if she had been born for a while and was just simply sleeping. Lena held her baby and stared at it for the longest time before realizing how exhausted she was. Afraid she might accidentally turn over on the baby as she slept, Lena decided she would not sleep with the baby in her own bed, and so the new mother gingerly got up and found the softest part of her bedroom's carpet she could find and placed the baby gently onto it, laying her on her back. Thinking that she would try to figure all this out tomorrow, she fell backward onto her bed and fell asleep.
When Lena awoke the next morning, her first thought was, "Oh God, what a horrible nightmare!! It felt so real!" As she rose up, she realized something was wrong. She was lying on the floor, naked. She looked over her body, thinking. "Did I fall out of bed??" She got to her feet and then her blue eyes fell upon the bed, and she screamed. The shirt and bra she had been wearing last night were lying on the bed, being worn by a skeleton. Lena trembled as she looked around the room, her mind racing. After a while, she remembered where she had placed the baby she had birthed... it had been lying in the exact spot where Lena had woke up, but as she now looked at that spot, there was no baby there, nor any sign there ever was. As she continued to ponder this, terrified, she also realized that her body felt better than it had ever felt in her life, almost as if it were a new....body....
Lena rushed into the bathroom and vomited as realization hit her. She had given birth to herself. Somehow, after she had fallen asleep, her body died, and her consciousness or soul or whatever had transferred to the baby, which had apparently grown rapidly. She looked herself over, noting that her body seemed to be the same age as it had been last night, in her late 20s. "How is this possible??" She breathed. Lena made her way back into the bedroom, noticing at once that the bones were now gone, leaving only the clothes she was wearing last night, and what appeared to be sweat and other bodily fluids. Lena shuddered at the thought, but did not know what else to do. Her tummy grumbled, and she realized she was starving... of course, this new body had not eaten yet.
Hours later, Lena had eaten, dressed, and had gone into work. Sitting at her desk, her mind was not on her work, however. She could not get her odd situation out of her mind, and the more she pondered on it, the more it made sense that the body she now inhibited was the one she gave birth to. "The baby's features were just like mine," she thought. "Female, petite body, blonde hair... if I saw its eyes, I bet they were blue, just like mine!" "I never had sex, so the baby could only be another me!" "But, how??" "How is this possible??" "What caused this to happen to me??" Lena spent all of her workday lost in thought, and after a while, convinced herself that it had to have been a nightmare. She must have hallucinated those bones, and just simply did not remember taking off her clothes, or falling out of bed during the night. As for her body feeling better than it ever had?? Maybe that was just a result of healthy living lately!! When she arrived home, Lena grabbed her bra and shirt from off her bed and threw it into the laundry. She then looked around the room, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she told her mind it was a vivid nightmare, and to forget about it, and get on with her life.
Two days had passed, and Lena had not given the incident another thought. She had been shut up in her office, preparing an important presentation for her boss to give soon. Her friend and co-worker Marianne had come by to collect the finished presentation, and Lena stood to hand it to her. "Excellent," Marianne said "Lena, this is just what our boss needs to secure that new agreement!!" "You always come through when we need it!" Marianne's brown eyes looked Lena over. "Oh, by the way, congratulations!! When are you due??" Lena looked at her friend confused. "What??" she asked, before looking down at herself and barely stifling a gasp. She was sporting a small bump, almost as if she were about 3 or 4 months pregnant. Her mind raced in panic as her friend was still speaking: "Boy or girl??" After a few seconds, in which Lena composed herself, she smiled and said, "Oh, it's a girl!" Marianne nodded. "I don't know why you didn't tell me or any of us before now, but again, congratulations!" Lena smiled as Marianne left the room, the Lena scrambled for the bathroom. As she closed the door behind her, she collapsed against it, breathing rapidly. "This can't be happening!" She thought. "I can't be pregnant!!" "This isn't happening again!!" "That was just a nightmare... wasn't it??" She glanced into the mirror, her shining blue eyes staring back at her, eyeing her small bump, and she groaned softly. "What the hell am I going to do??"
After she got home, Lena decided that she was not going back to work for a while. This proved to be a good idea, for as the week passed, her bump grew rapidly, and by the time she reached the weekend, she looked ready to pop. She had called the office, telling them she had caught a virus, and that she would be working from home for a while. This worked perfectly, except apparently Marianne began to worry about her, as she had begun calling Lena everyday. Lena assured her she was fine, just sick, and when Marianne asked about "the baby," Lena told her that she need not worry about it.
On the day Lena realized a full week had passed since she had had her supposed nightmare, she tried to get out of bed when she was hit by painful contractions and pressure. "Oooohhh", she moaned, rocking back and forward on the bed, clutching her belly. Hoping that walking might help the contractions, Lena got shakily to her feet and began taking small steps around her bedroom. With each step, Lena felt the baby inside her drop lower and lower. Eventually, she could not take it anymore and she dropped to her knees, crying out in agony. She spread out on all fours, her large belly hanging down and her blonde hair in her face, inwardly thankful she had been going to bed naked lately. Tears streamed from her blue eyes as she wailed and pushed, her butt and vagina high in the air. The baby's head tunneled roughly through her birth canal as she panted and moaned. Her legs shook with pain and cramps as Lena let out another roar of pain. As the head began to peek out of her, she felt the burning in her pussy that signaled the baby's crowning. "OOHH!! OOOHHH GOD!!" She yelled. "AAHHH IT HURTS!! IT'S BURNING!!!!" she cried and grabbed the top of the bed, pulling herself into a semi-squatting position, hoping gravity would help. Lena threw her head back and cried out loudly as she felt the head seem to split her vagina open. Bearing down, she pushed until the head was hanging out between her legs. Stopping only to pant and catch her breath, Lena reached down with her left hand and felt the baby's head. When another contraction hit, she squatted and groaned as she gave another push, and the baby dropped onto the carpet.
After spending a few minutes to rest, Lena looked down at the baby. Like before, it was a little girl, not attached, and not crying, but clearly alive. Lena held and hugged the baby against her chest, thinking rapidly. "It wasn't a nightmare, unless I'm having it again!" "What do I do??" "Do I dare fall asleep again??" Thinking back, Lena was convinced that giving birth this second time seemed more difficult and more painful than the first, but she was not sure. Realizing that she was exhausted and hungry, Lena placed the baby in the center of her bed and staggered to the kitchen. Her body after giving birth was sore and weak, but everything seemed to be over. She made a quick sandwich and collapsed on her sofa in the living room, lost in thought. As she ate silently, random questions popped into her head, and she decided that today, since it was early in the morning when she had given birth, she was going to experiment.
12 hours later, with night falling outside, Lena felt more confused than ever. After eating earlier, she had returned to her room and started touching and talking to the baby, in an attempt to get it to open its eyes, but it never did. Lena then tried to feed it, holding it up to one of her breasts, but nothing happened. On an upside, there was no diaper to change either, for the baby did not seem to have to poop or pee. If not for the breathing and it occasionally moving around, Lena would have sworn the baby was just a realistic looking doll. Tired, Lena decided to try one last experiment before she went to sleep. She had brought the baby into the living room and placed her on the sofa. Lena then returned to her bedroom, thinking that if she woke up on the sofa tomorrow, then it confirmed her theory about what was happening, assuming she could fall asleep will so many anxious thoughts in her head. However, as soon as her head hit the pillow, Lena drifted off immediately.
Lena turned and felt herself hit the floor. Snapping awake, she found herself lying in front of her sofa. She let out a soft scream and jumped to her feet. Rushing into her bedroom, she found her bed soaking wet, and only the pajamas she had worn to bed as part of her experiment. Trembling, she backed against the wall and slid down it onto the floor, burying her face in her hands. "It's true!" She thought. "Everytime I fall mysteriously pregnant, I give birth to a baby that will eventually become my new body!" "But, why?? And how??" "Am I cursed??"
Lena again did not go back to work. She decided to spend the day on the internet, searching for answers, ignoring a missed call from Marianne. Scouring the internet, she tried to determine if anyone else had ever been in her situation before, but she was unsuccessful. She had even posted her situation in a few forums on the deeper parts of internet, but only got responses telling her she had a vivid, or a sick imagination, and that her "ideas" would make a good story. Frustrated, Lena was getting ready to shut down her computer, before noticing the new email icon, and something clicked in her mind. She was reminded about that strange online contest she had taken, and realized that it was right after that when all these strange things had started happening to her. Lena accessed her search history and located the website where she had played the contest. She saw that message thanking her for playing and then found the information she had overlooked before. "Questions??" It said, with a phone number under it. Her heart racing, Lena grabbed her smartphone and called the number immediately!
After two rings, a kind female voice answered, telling Lena that she had called the helpline for the online contest. Lena told the woman everything that had happened since winning the contest, expecting the woman to hang up, laugh, or even tell her that she had no idea what Lena was talking about. However, to her surprise, the woman answered "Of course!" "What is happening to you is what you wished for." Lena fell silent confused. "I wish to live forever," the woman said as if she was reading it, then said with a giggle, "That wish has come true." "With each week, your body produces a brand new replacement, and once you give birth to it, it becomes your new body." "Constantly changing to a fresh body each week means you will never grow old and die." "Congratulations!!" Lena gasped in shock. "How do I make it stop??" She asked the woman. "Stop??" The voice repeated. "Why would you want to??" "Your wish is granted." "I didn't think that was serious," Lena yelled in a pleading voice. "Please, you have to help me!!" "It hurts to give birth every week" "I don't want this wish anymore!!" "Please get rid of it!" "That can't be done," the woman responded. "All granted wishes are final!" "Have a nice day!" With that, the woman hung up. Lena tossed her phone to the side and collapsed into her chair, crying. "I AM cursed!!" She blurted out!!
Lena called and quit her job, thinking that, in order to avoid awkward questions, she would have to find a job that allowed her to work from home. Three days later, she had accepted an online application for a work from home proofreader, which was similar to what she did before, but would allow her to avoid human contact and submit her work online. She was already showing another small pregnant bump by this time, and she absentmindedly rubbed it as she finished chores around the house. Though a part of her mind had subconsciously accepted her new life situation, Lena was still dismayed that she seemed to be stuck in this cycle of "rebirth" forever. She had continued to search the internet for any kind of hope or help, even going so far as to search for unusual births, frequent birth fetish sites, and even post about her situation in various birth related forums, but it seemed that her situation was unique, or else no one else had gone public with it. Her failure to find even a shred of hope caused her to fall into a kind of depression, and she only half-heartedly threw herself into her new work, knowing that she still needed money regardless.
After six days had passed, Lena was lying spread out on her sofa, her hand resting on her large belly as she read a romance novel, trying anything to help take her mind off things, when a knock at her door made her jump. Confused, Lena rose up and waddled to her front door, seeing Marianna through its small window. Lena opened the door, greeting her friend and former co-worker, who looked at Lena with concern. "Lena, what's been going on with you??" Marianne asked. "I haven't heard from you in days... you quit your job suddenly, and refuse to answer my calls or texts." "Are you ok??" Marianne looked Lena up and down, taking in the huge bump. "Lena, I didn't know you were that far along!" "Does all of this have to do with the baby, because I know that..." Marianne trailed off, for at the mention of the word baby, Lena burst into tears and fell into Marianne's arms, crying hysterically. "I'm... I'm not ok at all!" Lena sobbed, as Marianne held her. "Mari, I don't...know... what to do!!" For a while, Marianne just held her friend, listening to her crying, then looked into Lena's eyes, and asked, "When's the last time you left the house??"
An hour later, Marianna had driven the two of them to the park, thinking that some time out of the house would do Lena some good. As the two of them walked slowly through it, having the park mostly to themselves, Lena realized that Marianne insisting that she get out of the house was a good thing, for Lena began to somewhat feel better. "Lena, please talk to me," Marianna pleaded, a concerned expression on her face. As they continued their stroll, Lena shook her head, staring at the ground, and her protruding belly. "I want to tell you, but I don't think you'll believe me," She relied. "Tell me what??" Marianne asked, still looking at Lena with concern. When Lena did not respond, Marianne stopped her and the two of them stood in a large patch of grass in a deeper corner of the park. "Lena, you can tell me anything," Marianne said to her. "Remember, I'm a scifi and fantasy nut!" "Whatever it is, I'll believe you." Lena looked into her friend's face, thinking that if anyone in the entire world would believe her right now, it was Marianne. So, Lena took a deep breath, and told her everything: About taking the contest and making her wish, about how she had fallen pregnant without warning, how she had given birth twice already, about how she had discovered that she was giving birth to her own replacement bodies, and how she had found the help line for the contest, and how the woman over the phone had confirmed what Lena had suspected. Marianne listened to her friend intently, and when Lena finished, she was relieved that Marianne had not laughed at her or told her she was insane. "Unbelievable," Marianne gasped. "So, it's a curse, and it can't be undone??" Lena nodded somberly. "Mari, you gotta help me... I don't know what to do." Marianne hugged her friend, comforting her. "Of course, Lena, there must be something that we can do," she said, smiling. "We'll figure it out together!!" "I'll help you look deeper online, and I can discreetly make some inquiries with some friends who might be able to help." "We'll figure something out, I promise." Lena looked at Marianne, feeling the first bit of joy and hopefulness she had felt since this crazy situation had begun. It was a long shot, yes, but at this point, she needed any silver of hope that she could get. Lena sighed happily and let out a laugh, embracing her friend as much as she could, before a painful weight hit her hips.
Lena cried out in pain, nearly falling to the ground, if not for Marianne catching her. "Aagghh, it's coming!! Mari, it's coming!!" Lena cried, feeling the pressure in her lower abdomen. "Oh God, Lena, we've gotta get you to a hospital," Marianne responded, pulling out her phone to call an ambulance. Panting, Lena stopped her, grabbing Marianne's hand. "No.... no hospital!" Lena breathed. When Marianne stared into her face shocked, Lena shook her head. "How... will I... explain.... this?" "Too.... many.... questions..." Lena squealed as the pain worsened, and Marianne dropped her phone back into her purse. "Ok, back home then," she said. "Back home where it's more comfortable and private..." "There's.... no....time..." Lena said breathlessly. "It's... starting... to PUUUAAAAA!!" Lena let out a yell of agony as another contraction forced the baby painfully through her pelvis. "OOOHHH!! MARI, HELP ME, IT HURTS!!" Without another word, Marianne grabbed onto Lena and helped her over to a nearby park bench, thankful that this section of the park was currently deserted. As Lena moaned and cried, Marianne helped her onto the bench, taking off her bottoms, and positioning one of her legs to hang across the back of the bench, so that Lena was lying across it with her legs open. Lena screamed as she felt the burning and pressure in her vagina. "MARI, IT'S THERE! THE HEAD'S THERE!! IT BURNS!! OOOOWWWWW!!" Lena screamed as her pussy began to stretch around the head. Marianne moved in between Lena's legs, seeing the tip of the baby's head lodged in her small vagina. "Lena, honey, you're doing great!" Marianne coached. "Don't worry, I'll catch the baby when it comes out!" "It'll all be over soon!" "When you feel you need to, push!!" Lena screamed as the head emerged slowly, opening her wider and wider. "AAGGHH, IT HURTS!!" Lena yelled. "OH, PLEASE GET IT OUT!! MARI, PLEASE!!" As Lena begged and cried, Marianne rubbed her legs softly, watching as the head inched out. After another minute, the head fully emerged with a pop and a gush of fluids, causing Lena to gasp loudly. Marianne laughed and nodded in relief, looking into her friend's eyes. "One more push, Lena!!" She told her. "Just one more!"
45 minutes later, Marianne drove into the driveway of Lena's house, with Lena herself in the passenger seat, holding the baby girl that she had just given birth to in the park, weak and exhausted. Marianne got out of her car and then helped Lena slowly to her feet and guided her into her house. Lena lowered herself into her nearby armchair as Marianne took the baby from her and placed it onto the sofa. "That was intense, Lena," Marianne said to her. Lena nodded weakly at her friend and smiled softly at her. "Thank you for being there," Lena said quietly. "Is it always like that??" Marianne asked. Lena sat in quiet contemplation for a moment before saying hoarsely, "No, it seemed worse that time!" Lena stared at the baby lying over on the sofa, moving around timidly, lost in thought. Why did it seem like each time she gave birth, it felt worse?? Was it just her, or was it somehow because these bodies were technically giving birth after being a week old?? Lena watched as the baby continued to squirm silently. She did not think this baby was any bigger than the last two, so she did not understand. Would the next one be even worse? Lena noticed Marianne watching her, and gave her another weak smile, trying to assure her wordlessly that she was ok. "So, what happens now??" Marianne asked, looking around the room. Lena sighed and shook her head. "I don't know," she responded. "Everything that happens next just happens." "I fall asleep, and when I wake up, I'm somehow inside the baby's body, which is instantly the same age as when I fell asleep!" "I don't know why or how..." Marianne stared into her friend's face, clearly astonished. "So, wonder what would happen if someone was watching when you fell asleep?" She inquired. Lena just shook her head, too exhausted to think, though in a part of her mind, she wondered this too. "Lena, I'm gonna spend the night here," Marianne told her. "Maybe we can find out, and besides, I think you need me." "You shouldn't be alone during all this." Lena looked up into her friend's face, and simply nodded. "Okay," Marianne placed a hand on Lena's shoulder and squeezed it softly. "Alright, you rest for a while," she said comfortingly. "I'm just gonna run back to my place and pack a few things, ok??" Lena nodded and watched as Marianne walked back out the door. Lena was weary, and also hungry, so she eased out of her chair and made her way to her kitchen, finding a few cookies to munch on. Afterward, she went to her bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, letting out an exhausted sigh. She only wanted to rest, like Marianne told her to do, but within minutes, she was fast asleep.
Lena was jerked awake by a loud scream, and she rolled off the couch and onto the floor, disoriented. She got to her feet and ran into the bedroom, where she saw Marianne staring at a human skeleton wearing the clothes Lena had worn to the park earlier. Marianne was trembling with shock, and yelped again when she turned and saw Lena standing naked behind her. "Lena, it... it's TRUE!!" Marianne blurted out. "I believed you, of course, but seeing it for myself..." Lena placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I know, Mari," Lena said. "I've been living it the past few weeks." After Lena had quickly thrown on some clothes, the two of them returned to the living room, where Marianne collapsed onto the couch Lena had awoken from minutes earlier. "Packing took longer than I thought," Marianna explained. "When I came back in, I saw you asleep on the couch, and I didn't think anything about it, so I thought you put the baby in the bedroom, and I decided to go in there, and that's when I saw..." She trailed off, looking shaken, and buried her face in her hands. Lena sat next to her and put her arms around her comfortingly. "It was me, but not anymore," Lena whispered. "I'm right here now, and I'm ok!" Marianne looked into her eyes. "Until the next time you give birth all over again, right?" She asked. Lena nodded, and her face fell. "Yeah, in about a week, I'll be doing it again," she responded. "I'm cursed!!" Marianne seemed to have calmed down, and she looked at Lena, seeming to examine her entire body. "I'm not taking away how difficult this situation is for you, Lena," she began, "But, if you look at this another way, you could call it a gift too." "I mean, you never die, and you're good as new each week..." Marianne faltered under the shocked and scathing look her friend was giving her. "Sorry, I know you didn't want this," she said. "Like I said in the park, I'll help you find a solution any way I can!"
As the day passed, the two of them talked, with Marianne asking question after question about Lena's predicament, clearly fascinated and curious about it. Lena explained as best she could, and the conversation even continued when the two of them realized they were starving, and Lena decided to cook something for the two of them. It was later in the evening, while the two of them ate spaghetti Lena had cooked up, when Marianne had proposed staying with Lena on a longer term basis. After thinking about it, and listening to Marianne explain how she should no longer be alone during all this, Lena agreed, and the two of them took a trip to Marianne's apartment, to pack up more long term items for her, including her laptop, which would be essential for Marianne to help research Lena's situation.
A few days later, the two of them had established a routine, with Marianne still going to work during the day, leaving Lena to do her own work, chores, research, and more importantly, rest for what was to come. Lena had already begun showing again, as predicted, and the two girls had agreed that they would continue to keep this entire situation secret from anyone else. As such, Lena once again rarely left the house, lest she run into anyone and be forced into answering awkward questions. Lena had also flat out refused Marianne's suggestion that she go to a hospital the next time she was due to deliver, for the same reason. She did not want to imagine what would happen if she transitioned into the new body while inside a hospital room. Lena knew this would once again mean she would be giving birth at home, with Marianne as her midwife, and though she hated to put her friend through that again, it was necessary. Lena therefore was very patient and accomadating when Marianne began to comment on her rapid pregnancy, insisted in touching her bump, and started making preparations. After all, Lena thought, having someone make plans in advance, as well as just having someone with her, might be helpful.
Marianne had certainly done her research into birth. Close to the end of the week, with Lena's belly large and protruding out, Marianne had transformed Lena's bedroom into a personal home birthing suite, complete with a birthing ball and even a small tub. Marianne also insisted that Lena do nothing but rest as the time for her labor grew closer. Lena appreciated all of the effort her friend was putting in for her, and was thankful that she had ultimately shared her secret with Marianne. For the first time since this situation had begun, Lena found herself not so depressed, for Marianne seemed to be able to do anything she set her mind to, and that gave Lena hope that perhaps together, they could even find a way to get her out of this mess.
A day after Marianne had finished transforming Lena's room, Lena lay in bed, on her side, moaning loudly, as pain and pressure had started up inside her as she had slept. She rubbed her huge belly as she cried loudly, which brought Marianne running into the room. "It's started??" Marianne asked, coming over to the bed. Lena nodded, her eyes shut. "It hurts, Mari, oh God, it hurts!" She whined. The contractions wracked her body, growing in intensity, and Marianne gently tried to help Lena up. "Here, Lena, get on the birthing ball, it'll help," Marianne said gently, helping her friend waddle over to it. As Lena sat and began rocking on the ball, she admitted inwardly that it did seem to help. She rocked silently, her eyes closed, changing her rocking pattern with every movement. Focusing on trying to change this every time helped to take Lena's mind off the pain. Marianne stayed with her, massaging her back, holding her hand, and whispering consoling words to her. Eventually, however, the pain became too much, and Lena screamed out! "I HAVE TO PUSH!!" she yelled, and cried as the weight of the baby pressed on her hips. Marianne had, in advance, filled the tub in the room with warm water, and she now helped Lena slowly into this water, hoping that would ease the pain. Lena sighed as she felt the water warm her entire body. She still felt pain and pressure, but it was not as bad. "Thanks, Mari," she breathed to her friend. Marianne only shook her head, and then Lena said, "For everything!!" Marianne was about to respond, telling Lena there was no other place she would rather be, when Lena let out a moan and thrashed around in the water. "I FEEL IT COMING!!" Lena screeched. "Push, Lena!!" Marianne coached. Lena pushed and pushed, gripping the edges of the tub tightly. Marianne rubbed Lena's legs while simultaneously holding them open. "I already see the head, Lena," Marianne cried happily. "You're doing great!!" "Uuuuggghhhh," Lena groaned as she gave another push. With the head hanging halfway out of her vagina, Lena threw her head back against the head of the tub, panting. "I don't know how much longer I can do this," she breathed. "You've got this, Lena," Marianne reassured her. "Just a bit more!!" Lena felt another contraction and began to push, then screamed and thrashed as the burning hit her vagina full force. "AAAAHHH, IT'S CROWNING!!" Lena yelled, as Marianne tried to calm her down. After another minute of Lena's screams echoing through the room, there was a loud splash as the baby emerged from her into the water. As Lena collapsed in relief, Marianne lifted the baby out and placed her on the bed. "You did it, Lena," Marianne cried happily.
Marianne had helped Lena to the bed and moved the baby to another bed on the other side of the room. Lena fell asleep almost immediately, tired from giving birth, and Marianne was determined to watch everything until Lena woke up. A few hours passed, with Marianne watching both her friend and the baby, and then suddenly, as she blinked, the baby was instantly a full grown Lena, with no signs of change. For a moment, there were two sleeping Lenas in the room with her and then the one in Lena's original bed stopped breathing. As Marianne continued to watch, an hour later, in another blink of an eye, the first Lena became a skeleton, still wearing the clothes she was wearing when she fell asleep, as the new naked Lena stirred. Marianne was at a loss for words as her friend got up from the new bed and searched for something to wear. When she finally found her voice again, Marianne said with an uncomfortable laugh, "Well, I guess we can keep all this stuff here, since we know you'll be needing it again in a week!"
It was two days later, the girls having gotten back to their routine, when Marianne had finally found something. She had sent Lena's e-mail to a buddy of hers, and he had traced the location of its sender. He sent this location information back to Marianne, along with assurances that he did not read the e-mail, nor did he want to know what was going on. Marianne shared this information with Lena, who felt herself tremble with excitement. "That's only several hours away from here by car," Lena exclaimed excitedly. "I know," Marianne said. "We can go and meet with whoever is in charge of that contest and convince him to lift the curse." Lena's heart sank a little. "But, that woman on the phone said the curse couldn't be reversed," Lena stated. Marianne shook her head, still smiling. "She probably told you that because it would be an inconvenience to do it," she responded. "If he or she is face to face with you, we can force them to lift it, somehow." "Don't worry!" "Soon, it's all gonna work out fine, I just know it!" As Lena throught to herself, wondering if she dared to get her hopes up, Marianne checked her watch. "I have a busy workday today, but I'm off tomorrow," she said. "We can go then!"
The next day, the two of them woke up early, had a quick breakfast, and then got in Marianne's car, to begin their five hour drive to the location in Marianne's information. Lena already had a small bump again, which had motivated the girls to start their trip as quickly as possible. As Marianne drove, Lena sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly rubbing her little belly as the two of them discussed what they would say to whoever they were about to meet. Eventually, since they had very little information to go on, the girls exhausted this subject and began discussing other things, like what their future plans were. Lena, hopeful that this curse would be gone soon, wished to pursue a career in writing. Perhaps she would turn this experience into a story of some sort. Marianne, meanwhile, did not seem to have any future plans, having always mostly lived in the moment and had never really thought about it. Eventually, after five hours, they stopped in front of what looked to be an old house, and Marianne confirmed from her notes that this was the location.
The two girls entered the house, finding the door unlocked. They found themselves in a large open living room, with a few chairs placed around and a fireplace against the wall. Sitting on top of the fireplace were several lit candles. As the two girls looked around the room, they noticed that the place was lit only by various candles dotted around the room. A grandfather clock stood in a corner, ticking softly, and a circle was drawn in the center of the room. "Woah, what is this..." Marianne exclaimed, before a young dark haired man dressed in a dark cloak entered the room from a doorway in the opposite wall. He looked at the girls, then said calmly, "You are Lena, one of my contest winners!" "WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME??" Lena blurted out angrily. "I didn't think you contest was real!" "I granted your wish, Miss Lena," the man responded. "It is quite real, and your wish was to live forever!" "But, why did you make it happen like this??" Lena yelled, as she motioned to her small pregnant bump. The man sighed. "Because, it was the only way," he responded. "I am a sorcerer, but my magic is limited." "It can't extend life, but it can create a new one, for the act of conceiving is a process that already exists!" "A bit of cloning magic, as well as soul transference, and life acceleration..." "TAKE IT AWAY," Lena yelled. "I don't want this wish anymore!!" "Reverse the spell or curse or whatever you did!" The sorcerer shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, there is no reverse spell or any way to stop or cancel my magic once applied." "What I have given you is yours forever." Lena gaped at the sorcerer, feeling as though her insides were falling. She had hoped there was a way to undo this curse, but now, it seemed, there was not. "I can't go on like this," Lena pleaded. "Please, there must be something you can do!" The sorceror shook his head apologetically, but Marianne spoke up. "I have an idea," she said, and the other two looked at her. "You said the spell could not be undone, but can it be moved or transferred??" The sorcerer stared at her. "Yes, it can be, but I don't understand..." "Then, give it to me instead," Marianne said, before looking at Lena and smiling slightly, as Lena gaped at her. "Mari, what??" She said breathlessly. "It's ok," Marianne answered. "Remember when I said this could be a gift instead of a curse if you thought about it differently??" "Well, I have thought about it, and for me, it would be a gift!" She turned to the sorcerer. "Can you do it??" "I can," he reponded, nodding. "Mari, I can't let you do this," Lena said to her friend. "Lena, please, I want this," Marianne said. "I found what was happening to you fascinating and amazing, even a dream come true." "You don't want it, but I do, so we both win!" "But, the birth... the pain..." Lena said, staring at Marianne in disbelief. "I'm not worried about that, Marianne said happily. "It's actually an experience I would treasure each time." "Please, Lena, let me do this for you, and for me, ok??" Lena sighed, and a tear ran down her cheek as a feeling of great relief flowed through her body. "Ok, Mari," she said. "Thank you!"
The sorcerer led the two girls down into a large basement room, with what looked like a large round pool in the center of it, filled with what looked like water. He instructed the two of them to take off all their clothes and then both submerge themselves completely for 20 seconds, as he performed a ritual. The girls did as they were asked and the two of them slowly walked down into the pool until they were both fully underwater. After counting to twenty, Lena emerged from the pool and a splash, the sound of dripping water, and someone trying to catch their breath told her that Marianne had come out as well. Looking over herself, Lena saw that the small baby bump was gone, her body back to its small petite form. She looked over to see that Marianne now had a small bump, which she was clutching in one hand as she spluttered the water out of her mouth. "Mari, look," Lena exclaimed, pointing at Marianne's belly. "It worked!!" "You're..." "I'm pregnant!" Marianne said, happily, looking over herself and rubbing her belly. "It is done," the sorcerer stated. "The spell has been transferred."
As they drove back to Lena's house, the two girls talked happily, both having gotten what they wanted! Lena was free, and never had to worry about giving birth again, short of actually having kids of her own someday. Marianne, meanwhile, had taken the curse, or gift as she called it. As Marianne giggled, driving happily, Lena stared at her. "Mari, I'll never forget what you did for me," she said to her friend. "Thank you so much!" Marianne laughed. "I should be thanking you, Lena," she responded, rubbing her belly. "You've given me something special, and I can't wait to experience it." Lena smiled. "I was thinking," she began, "It might be good for you to have someone around that is experienced in this situation." "Since your stuff is already at my house, and you'll need it soon, why don't you continue to hang around my place?" "I can help you when it's time, and I enjoy your company!" Lena patted her friend's belly, inwardly thinking that she'd be much happier delivering a baby every week than actually being the one giving birth. Marianne smiled at her. "You know what," she said. "I think that's an excellent idea!" "Let's start our new lives, together!!"
End!!
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for the sleepover tonight! zemo needs an heir, you need money. you agree to marry him in exchange for birthing a child and divorcing several months after. only you've grown feelings and now you don't want to leave him
um let’s not worry that I made this pure angst/fluff
Adalgisa | feminine
origin: German
meaning: Noble, precious promise
Since the full name didn’t exactly roll off the tongue, you usually called her Addy; sometimes Gigi because it made her giggle.
You hoped she would never know how true her name’s meaning really was, that she was the result of a contractual agreement between you and her father. By now you had the contract memorized, since you read it every time you couldn’t sleep: In essence, it said that you and Helmut could divorce as soon as the child was done breastfeeding and that you would get ample visitation to go with your handsome compensation.
But as the time approached, you couldn’t imagine leaving her now; that much was clear as you looked down at where she’d fallen asleep on your chest. You stroked your fingers over her curls, admiring the innocence of her peaceful expression. And then you looked at your husband sleeping beside you, his arm limply draped over both of you... and you couldn’t imagine leaving him, either. That was the part you didn’t expect.
Of course you’d known that there was a decent chance this whole thing would backfire, but your plan in that case was just to flee with the child and raise her without knowledge of her birthright. But, that was all assuming that the reason it would backfire would be too much love for the kid, and/or the Baron being exactly as controlling and cold as he seemed at first. After all, who needs a contract to have a child?
The last three years with him brought so much more clarity than you could’ve imagined. From the beginning he was so gentle with you, more patient than he needed to be, even when he was a bit aloof and so deeply reserved. You never wanted for anything... well, that’s not totally true. Every night you wanted his touch, longed for more than what a contract required, and you could never tell if he really had any affection for you if he just wanted to make you comfortable while he did his best to get you pregnant.
When you found out he’d done it after all, you didn’t tell him right away (even though that was in direct violation of the contract). You weren’t ready for him to stop touching you, you weren’t ready for how he would treat you when intimacy no longer served a purpose. Of course, your moral compass got the better of you before he could actually take you to bed again; you just couldn’t bring yourself to let him go through with it when you knew it was under false pretenses.
“Wait,” you gasped as he kissed down your neck, pushing his hands away from where they had begun to tenderly spread your legs.
“Is everything alright?” he breathed, pulling back to stare down at you. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I-- I’m fine,” you stammered.
“Should I stop?” he pressed, looking a bit conflicted as his gaze scanned your body; clearly he would stop if you said to, but at the same time, his own desperation was apparent. It was rare for someone normally as collected as him.
“Well, you don’t need to, but you might want to when I tell you...” you trailed off.
“Tell me what?”
You chewed on your lip. “Helmut... I’m pregnant.”
His eyes went wide and you looked away, guilt burning in your gut. “How... how long have you...?”
“Just a few days, I should’ve told you as soon as I knew but I was scared--”
“Scared of what?”
Scared that you’d never kiss me again, you immediately thought to yourself. Scared that the last time was the last time-- I would’ve done it different if I had known it was the last time. I would’ve held you closer, I would’ve loved you harder; I would’ve made sure that even if you were going to throw me once it was all over, that you would never forget me.
“I... don’t know.”
“Darling,” he whispered, “it’s wonderful. This is wonderful. You’re so... you’re beautiful.”
He leaned down again to give you a slow kiss, the softest smile pressing against your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, relaxing a bit.
“I can’t believe it,” he mumbled. “In the best way, I mean.”
His hand ventured down to your belly where he let it rest as he stared in awe. You both spent a moment in that silence together, and the energy shifted slightly as he looked up at you again.
“Darling...”
“Yes, Helmut?”
“May I make love to you?” he asked, lowering his voice. The question caught you off-guard, and made a sting of need hit between your legs. “I know we don’t need to, since you’re already... and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want this, but--”
“Yes,” you answered quickly. “I want you, please.”
I love you, you wanted to say, but he kissed you before you could.
And then the pregnancy... finally that hard shell began to crack as he watched your bump grow. He became so doting, and not just by kissing and rubbing your belly or talking about the baby; he kissed you, too, and with more love in his eyes than you knew what to do with. You decided not to let yourself wonder if he loved you back; you could barely admit that you loved him in the first place.
When Addy was born, you realized you’d never known how beautiful family could feel. But now it was everything to you; now you were this baby’s entire world, and she was yours, and Helmut was absolutely enamored with her.
“Spending some quality time with your baroness, huh?” you chuckled as you walked in on him dancing around to an old record with the baby on his hip.
“Darling, you’re my baroness,” he clarified, and you had not expected the effect those words would have on you. “She’ll gain the title when she’s older. For now she’s just my little heiress.”
And now that she was almost two, she was undeniably a daddy’s girl in return. Not that she didn’t love you, obviously, but she was so spoiled by him. It was sort of a rarity that she was sleeping on you tonight and not him; in fact, it was normally him that let her into your bed when she was meant to be sleeping in her nursery.
Tears welled in your eyes as you realized that you absolutely could not leave. Maybe you could survive a divorce from the man you were secretly in love with, but you couldn’t move out. You couldn’t be away from her, from this. It wasn’t just a man and a woman and a child. It wasn’t just a Baron and his contractually-obligated wife and their means-to-an-end child.
The three of you were the Zemo family now. And you loved being a part of it so much.
“Helmut,” you whispered, seeing him jolt from his sleep.
“Is everything okay?” he asked before he was even completely awake. “Are you safe?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” you laughed softly. “I was just wondering if I should take her to her room.”
“I’ll do it,” he offered, starting to sit up. “You don’t have the finesse it takes to carry her without waking her up.”
You frowned, but didn’t protest because you knew he was right. He carefully lifted her sleeping body off of you and leaned her onto his shoulder as he carried her out and down the hall. You waited in darkness and silence for his return, imagining what you might say when he came back.
I love you.
I want to get out of the contract.
I think we should stay married.
All worthy contenders, but when he came back to bed empty-handed, none of them seemed to come out of your mouth even when you opened it to speak.
“Goodnight, darling,” he whispered, turning away as he pulled the blankets up over himself.
I love you, you wanted to say it so much, it was so fucking close to your lips but you came up silent. I love you I love you I love you. “Goodnight,” you heard yourself say instead.
Maybe you’d find the courage to tell him tomorrow, before it was too late. But then again, that was the last thought you’d had every night for the past year.
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