#being silently killed and your partner doesn’t realize why you’re dying
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It was just a piece of fruit. A small, little, teeny tiny wedge of an apple.
Somehow, that piece was more than large enough to get wedged in my throat.
A cold feeling washed over me as my heart began to pound heavily in my head, so hard that I could feel each pulse throughout my body. Tentatively, I tried to take a breath, but found that I simply couldn’t. There wasn’t a passage of air at all.
No. No no. No, I couldn’t be choking, I couldn’t be.
You were downstairs. I had insisted on taking my apples with caramel dip to the bedroom so I could sit and relax. Funny how things turn out: A simple, calm evening turned into a life-threatening situation in an instant.
My hand reaches for my throat as I yank the covers off. In doing so, I knocked off several items from the nightstand. It would often be something I’d complain about, but in this case, it was a blessing. The crash caught your attention. Your voice calls my name from downstairs.
I scramble towards the bedroom door and do my best to shout. All that comes out of my now blueing lips is a gag. I slam my fists into my abdomen in a pathetic attempt to dislodge the fruit. I couldn’t feel it move one bit. Repeatedly, I do this. I even grab a nearby book and slam the edge of it up into my stomach.
Nothing worked.
On trembling limbs, I crawled out of the bedroom, unable to keep my drool from slipping from my lips and into the carpet. The stairs are just a few feet away, and now, you’re just a few steps away. I could make it-
My vision darkens as I began to crawl down the first few steps. My body slips and falls, colliding with nearly every step.
That is, until you meet me halfway and catch me in your strong arms. My body’s bucking and practically convulsing with pain and the lack of air. You see my pale lips, my reddened cheeks, the veins in my neck popping as my heart frantically beats away the little oxygen I have left.
You know that I’m unable to breathe, but you don’t know the cause. You simply assume that my heart is having a fit. I’m too slow in bringing my hands to my neck to signal that I’m choking.
So, you quickly tilt my head back, plug my nose, and give me as deep of a breath as you could. I can feel my cheeks expand, I could feel your breath try to make its way down my throat to my starved lungs, but it doesn’t make it there. The pressure from your air makes my ears pop. There’s no where for it to go.
You pull away and adjust my head once more, craning my neck further back in a painful manner. In response, my chest hitches higher and higher against your arms, desperate to get a single bit of your air. My hands painfully claw at my own chest, practically tearing at the material of my shirt, as if that was what was keeping my from breathing. It was as if I was trying to carve into my own body and yank the fruit out of my throat.
Once more, you offered me your air, blowing as hard as you could into me.
The air didn’t reach its destination. Once more, the apple stopped it. Only this time with the air, the fruit seemed to be pushed further down my throat.
I begin to panic more, fighting against your comforting arms and biting your lips. My hands go down to my abdomen to smack into myself once more. Compared to earlier, these are weak, pathetic slaps that barely make my body move. Was i truly this weak already?
I realized that I was dying. My head was pounding with pressure, my surroundings were already graying at the corners of my tearful eyes, and my body was fighting for some small amount of air.
Your eyes widen in both guilt and understanding. It clicked: I was choking.
On the stairs, you position yourself behind me and hook your arms around me. Your fist is placed right above my belly button, and with all of your might, you pull sharply into me.
No noise is made from me as you do this, so you do it again, and again, and again. By this point, I’m limp in your arms and my heads hanging down.
I can barely watch as your arms slam into me. I can barely feel as you begin to drag me upstairs to get me on a flat surface. I can barely feel your warm hands pressing into my cheeks to try and stir a reaction, I can barely feel your lips pressing into mine once more to give me your air, I can barely feel it fail to flow.
I can’t feel your hands as they thrust deep and hard with all of your weight into my body to try and get the apple out. I can barely see as your eyes are wild with horror and dismay. Your body bops up and down against mine. Funny, what would normally be such a pleasant sight of you on top of me is perhaps the very last thing I see.
I hear your voice.
And then I simply don’t.
Everything fades.
Part of life is that it ends.
Will you let this be the end?
#mmmmm not too crazy about this#but also I’m just off of an overnight and am thinking about choking#this is a bit of a fantasy right here#being silently killed and your partner doesn’t realize why you’re dying#so they’re using the wrong method to try and save you#and by the time they realize it’s too late#they try as hard as they can to save you but nothing works#and so comes the cpr when heimlich fails#cpr#resus#my writing#idk about it but ehhhdhdkdbdjdb#might delete I’m not confident in it-#still feeling unsure about my place here but I’d like to#i dunno have a little corner of my own
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[The following ask is just an attempt on my, Winter's, part to exploit a quirk in tumblr's code that keeps formatting from copy/pasted items when answering an ask on desktop as opposed to making a text post.]
MC is a Phoenix and Child of a Famous Magic User
A slightly modified request fill for @guardianoftheunderworld090! This ended up getting away from me a bit, and by a bit I mean a lot so uhhh Oops! Because of that, I didn’t end up doing the dateables+Luke, so apologies! But this is already probably wayyyyy off from the original request anyway.
Again, oopsie :3
Content Warnings: Temporary character death, spoilers for Lesson 16+, brief implication of immolation (but not really bc, y’know, phoenix), mild-to-moderate blood and injuries/violence
As soon as they learned their name, everyone knew of MC. While not quite on Solomon or the great witch Maddi’s level, their parents had made quite the name for themselves in the magical community. Their pre-existing knowledge of magic and the supernatural was therefore completely expected.
Less so was what happened when they died.
Mammon had been cradling their body when it happened, still too stunned to react to his smug younger brother gloating about taking out such a fragile, weak creature. The entire House of Lamentation was in shock: MC, the human they had come to cherish, was bleeding out right in front of their eyes and there was nothing they could do to stop it.
The Avatar of Greed’s breath hitched as he felt their pulse fade, watched the rise and fall of their chest cease…
And then he screamed as MC’s body burst into flames. They were scorching hot, but left no marks on him nor the surrounding area. On instinct, Beelzebub darted forward to pull Mammon away from the inferno, his protests weakened by surprise and grief. Belphegor was knocked backwards off his feet by the force of the flames, and they all watched as the fire raged on, until it began to take on a recognizable shape.
Not of MC, but of a brightly coloured flaming bird.
The phoenix cocked its head to the side, as though assessing its surroundings, eyes passing over each of the frozen brothers before rounding on Belphegor. It shrieked, puffed up feathers interspersed with jets of flame, and charged the youngest with its sharp beak and talons bared.
And suddenly it was no longer a bird.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” MC yelled as they continued to slash at Belphie. A large pair of bright flaming wings arched behind their back, threatening to torch anything they touched. “I LITERALLY RISKED THE WRATH OF LUCIFER FOR WEEKS TO HELP YOUR SORRY ASS GET OUT OF THAT ATTIC AND THIS IS HOW YOU THANK ME?! WITH MURDER?!”
Blood pooled in Belphie’s mouth from a particularly nasty slash across his lip. He spit to the side before replying, “In my defense, most people stay dead when you kill them!”
“THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE TO—”
“...MC?” Levi said, voice small. “I-Is that really you…?” His tail swished behind him anxiously.
MC turned their attention to the rest of the brothers (one set of talons still embedded in Belphie’s leg, in case he had thoughts of running).
Beel was stock still, eyes pointed ahead but staring at something beyond the room. Asmo was crying silently, though his expression was neutral and wide eyed. The gears in Satan’s head were visibly turning even as he shredded the sleeves of his shirt with his claws. Mammon was misty eyed, with such an open expression of love and want and hurt that it made them want to cry as well. And Lucifer… The Avatar of Pride’s usual mask of stony superiority had crumbled into something lost and broken.
They looked back to Belphegor, who clutched at his leg, his own tears threatening to spill from his eyes. They slowly remove their talons from his leg and face the group, folding their wings inward until they regain their humanoid form.
“I guess I have a bit of explaining to do, huh.”
Lucifer
Too many things have happened so fast, he doesn’t even know how to respond.
Not only has MC apparently been having secret meetings with Belphegor, not only are the pacts they’ve made with his brothers just tools to free him, not only did Belphegor then betray them and attempt to kill them, but they’re also… A phoenix?!
Distantly, hysterically, he thinks, how in the three realms is that not on their file?
“Oh, I’m also not technically from this timel-”
Lucifer shushes them. He can’t deal with any other reveals right now.
Once… everything is dealt with, he allows himself to be curious about MC’s origins.
Have they always been this way? Were they adopted by their parents, a familiar given human form, or had something gone wrong one day with a spell?
He’ll never ask them though. He knows origins can be touchy subjects.
He grounds himself in the practical. Does MC know how to control their abilities? Are their needs being met? Are there any additional accommodations they require?
Sometimes, when their wings are out, he can’t help but be reminded of the similarly fiery wings of the seraphim from home the Celestial Realm and feel nostalgic.
His more possessive side also relishes the fact that they share a connection through association with birds, especially considering how some varieties of phoenixes tend to resemble peacocks.
It must be difficult for them to preen those large wings, do they need any help? No, it’s not that he wants to, don’t be ridiculous. But if they ever want his help...
Mammon
Once the initial shock of “holy shit the love of my life just BURST INTO FLAMES IN MY ARMS” fades, he’s just happy MC’s alive and well.
But he does put on a front of being upset that they never told him about their nature.
“Stupid hu— uhhh, phoenix, I worried for nothin’! Wait, no, I wasn’t worried at all—”
“Sure you weren’t,” MC retorts with a smile.
Seriously though, why didn’t they tell him? He’s their guardian, their First, he should know these things!
Do they think he’ll… try and take advantage of them because of their powers? He’d never!
Okay, maybe when they first met he might have considered it, but not now! Not now that he…
One night, Mammon and MC are up late watching some terrible Devildom romcom. MC has long since fallen asleep, and one of their enormous wings is draped over Mammon, pinning him in place.
The flames interspersed amongst their feathers are short and glow only dimly, like dying embers. Occasionally, a few will flare slightly or twitch as though a breeze has blown by.
“...I was really scared, you know,” he murmurs to their sleeping form. “I really thought you were gone. And I realized at that moment that I… I can’t lose you. I love you so much MC. You’re worth more to me than anything else in the Devildom, than anything in all the three realms. Please don’t scare me like that ever again…”
MC doesn’t stir, but the flames on their wing follow Mammon’s hand as he pets the warm feathers. They’re only pleasantly warm, with a smooth, silky texture to them.
He snuggles closer to them and drifts off himself, comforted by the heat of their body, human and avian anatomy alike.
Leviathan
Levi cannot believe his luck. He finally gets himself a friend he can really trust, and then his younger brother (who was trapped in an attic by the way, NOT in the human world like Lucifer said, because oh yeah, also Lucifer’s a liar) kills them, and now they’re—
It’s too much to process at once. All he can latch onto is that’s them, right? That’s really his MC, his Henry, the one person outside of his family who doesn’t dismiss him as some gross shut-in?
Once he’s assured himself that they’re safe, he’s immediately hit with the rest of the surprises to process. He hugs MC tightly against himself, whether to protect them from Belphegor or himself from… everything, is anyone’s guess.
It takes a long time for Levi’s newfound clinginess to dissipate. He refuses to let MC be alone around Belphegor under any circumstances, even if it means leaving his room more than he’s comfortable with.
In this time, he learns a lot about MC.
He learns that they seek to cool off the same way he seeks out warmth, and that this makes them excellent cuddling partners. He learns that they let out very adorable chirps of squawks when caught off guard.
He learns the hard way that a phoenix in love is a fire hazard.
But he also learns that he’d risk every item in his collection to see MC’s radiant smile.
Satan
Set the phoenix thing aside, Satan thinks to himself as he rushes over to inspect MC for injuries. Set it aside.
Once he’s sure they are unharmed, he turns his attention to Belphegor.
The Avatar of Sloth is lucky MC got to him first. Satan wouldn’t have stopped at a warning strike. Belphie knows from the murderous glare shot his way that it is only the presence of the others that’s stopping Satan from taking his revenge.
His fingers linger in their wings. MC’s feathers are all out of sorts, but there are no bald patches indicating any serious burns or other wounds. Still, Satan cards through them carefully, checking and double checking for any signs of damage. MC fidgets under his attention.
“Uh, Satan?” They’re blushing. “That kinda tickles.”
“Oh! Oh, um, sorry, I was just— you’re okay, right?”
They let out a small laugh and bop him gently with a wing. “Everything’s in working order, don’t worry.”
“That’s— Good, that’s uh, that’s great.”
“...Go ahead, you dork,” MC prompts with a smile. He blinks at them owlishly. “Ask your questions!”
He does, over the course of the next couple of weeks, in between therapeutic pranks against a certain youngest brother.
Asmodeus
As MC is born again from flame, Asmo learns the true horror of love.
He had always been the one to invoke passion in others: to seduce loyal partners and drive others mad with desire, to twist their love into lust and unleash its destructive potential. Despite this, he never really understood the feeling himself, why something as ephemeral as a feeling could drive humans to such extremes.
But seeing MC wounded and bloody, watching the light in their eyes dim, the Avatar of Lust had felt the call of blood and rage and grief and love for the first time. And watching MC dust themself off as they explain their unique heritage, Asmo realizes that those feelings would have destroyed him. He would have done anything and everything to bring MC back to him, given up any part of himself just to see them one more time.
So forgive him, MC, if his movements ever slow to a stop while preening your wings. If he sometimes stares at you with awe, or holds you tight enough to bruise.
His heart has never been anyone’s but his before, and he is so very afraid of getting burned.
Beelzebub & Belphegor
Oh this is Not bringing up good memories at all.
Something about seeing MC and Belphegor, bloody with the scent of fire and death in the air jumbles his senses and suddenly they’re not in the House of Lamentation but the battlefield and she’s been struck down, he was too slow, he chose his twin over his sister can he live with that? Can any of them? She’s falling she’s falling and he’s falling and they’re going to—
When he snaps back into awareness, Beel is restraining a hissing and spitting MC as they scratch and claw at him to get to Belphegor, the one wing Beel didn’t manage to pin down flapping about erratically.
Their movements only stop when they feel hot tears on their back. MC calms down and shifts more gently in Beelzebub’s grasp, turning to face him.
“Beel, it’s okay,” they say, cupping his face with a bloody, taloned hand. He smells the blood and lets out a sob.
Belphegor moves to comfort his twin, but MC’s wings snap open, shielding the pair in a ring of fire and feathers.
“I— I…” He can’t form the words. You died, my brother killed you, he’s here, you hurt him, why is he here, why did he hurt you, how did— “Please,” he says, finally.
MC frowns, hesitates. But slowly, they lower their wings and step aside, letting the twins reunite. As they embrace, Belphegor shoots them a look, but it’s not hateful. It’s not regretful or apologetic either, more of a profound confusion.
Despite demons’ regenerative abilities, Belphegor remains mostly bedridden for quite some time. It seems a phoenix’s wounds negate most healing factors, and the 5 pronged gash in his leg is particularly stubborn in its refusal to close. He jokes that the slow recovery must be because MC will never forgive him for what he’s done. Beel chastises him and says they’re more forgiving than he thinks.
Still, Belphie is surprised to see MC join Beel when he comes to change the youngest’s bandages. They hold out their hands, revealing 10 strange, press-on caps over their talons as they assure Belphie they won’t hurt him.
Where Beel is overly cautious and gentle, MC is practiced and efficient as they inspect, clean, and redress his wounds.
“Is this your way of apologizing?” Belphie can’t help but ask, earning him a stern glare from his twin.
“For attacking you after you killed me, not knowing it wouldn’t take? No,” they reply around a mouthful of medical tape. “It’s an excuse to talk.” They gesture for Beel to move his hand from the gauze pad so they can tape it down.
“You want to talk with your would-be murderer.” MC gathers up the garbage and old bandages to toss them in the trash.
“You’re not the first person to try, you know,” they remark as they dust off their hands.
“What?!” the twins shout in unison, Beel nearly dropping the scissors he was putting back into the first aid kit.
“I’ll tell you about it if you tell me why…” MC gestures broadly to Belphegor, “this all happened the way it did.”
This exchange of stories does not repair MC and Belphegor’s fraught relationship. That is not how wounds heal. But nevertheless, some weeks later, the House of Lamentation has a movie night. And sandwiched in the middle of the familial cuddle pile is MC, Beel, and Belphie, each tucked under one fiery wing.
#obey me headcanons#obey me imagines#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me fanfic#mine#my writing#lucifer#mammon#leviathan#satan#asmodeus#beelzebub#belphegor#as you can see this stylistically got very far away from me lmao#i'm not sure how i feel about it#eh#c'est la vie
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Can we get the V3 boys reacting to their s/o almost getting killed by someone in the killing game? If it’s not any trouble of course.
No trouble at all!
.................
Shuichi
Obviously very shocked and scared.
And angry.
He doesn’t know why someone would target you, of all people. Why did it have to be you?!
But he feels like he’s at fault for not paying enough attention to everyone’s behaviors after the new motive came out.
If the murder plot did succeed, then...
You’re quick to shutdown those “what ifs” he’s having, seeing that they’re making him panic.
For a while, you just hold him and wipe away his tears, promising him it’s gonna be okay.
He won’t lose you like he lost the others.
Gonta
“B-But..who would want to hurt s/o?!”
You’re afraid to say that somebody made you a target, but it’s the truth.
The fury in his eyes is real.
Though he’s quick to tear up and apologize for not being able to protect you from the ambush.
“Gonta promised to always be by s/o’s side. Promised to protect s/o like true gentleman. But Gonta broke his promises....Gonta failed..”
It shatters your heart hearing that from him.
“No, Gonta. You haven’t failed me,” you say. “They actually stopped because they realized they were messing with the lover of a strong giant. So in a way, you did protect me!”
Those words immediately cheer him up, easing his fears as he swoops you up into his arms and takes you to his lab.
Kokichi
At first he laughs.
“Sheesh, s/o. At least pretend like you’re trying to come up with a good lie!”
But when you’re not laughing with him, he abruptly stops.
“...wait, so it’s not a lie?”
One of the Monokubs appear to say that you were, indeed, attacked. And they so-happened to witness it, too.
Though they slip away before Kokichi can ask who it was.
Now he’s pissed, and you gotta stop him from leaving to strangle interrogate everybody one by one.
“All of them are dumbasses!! All of them!! How dare they mess with the Ultimate Supreme Leader’s partner in crime?!!!!”
Korekiyo
“No...no this can’t be! How dare they attempt something so foolish?!”
For all his talk of the Killing Game being “beautiful” in the absence of laws, Korekiyo didn’t find anything beautiful about you almost dying.
He was a paranoid train wreck.
Shutting you and himself into his lab/dorm, holding your hand at all times, and sitting away from everyone else in the dining hall were among the things he did for the next day or so.
He was scared you’d be ripped away from him.
The thought made him have several panic attacks, in which you had to calm him down.
You’ve never seen him act this way..and it aches your heart.
But you know he treasures you more than anything else in the world.
So you promise to be a hundred--no, a thousand times more careful.
Ryoma
“So...someone tried to..kill me.”
“....th-they what?”
For a moment, the tennis pro becomes choked up.
He finally..finally had someone who loved him, someone worth living for..
And some idiot tried taking that away from him.
But he’s quick to recover, and instead listens to your story of the ambush.
“I see..” Is all he says, before he leaves to find the suspect.
Next time you see them..there’s a cigarette burn on their person and they look away in fear when you lock eyes.
You miss your boyfriend’s small grin as he knows they learned a lesson.
Kaito
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!!”
His voice is loud enough to be heard across the courtyard, and you gotta quiet him down fast.
“No! That’s..that’s unacceptable!! I, Kaito Momota--Luminary of the Stars--will hunt down this selfish son of a bitch!!”
You’re following him around, begging him not to do anything stupid.
But he’s just interrogating everyone he comes across.
If it’s one of the guys who attacked you, he’ll slug them across the face, no hesitation.
If it’s any of the girls, he would just ask them “why..why would you want to do something like that?!! To my starlight [y/n], of all people?!”
Afterwards he’s very upset and shaken up, swearing he’ll do more to protect you.
Rantaro
He goes silent when you tell him someone tried killing you.
Then he slowly turns to you, his face grim as he simply asks: “Who?”
You don’t wanna mention the name, so you just say you couldn’t see your attacker and instead ran for your life.
He accepts that.
Though he knows you’re scared to cause a rift among your classmates so soon, which is understandable.
But it makes him more determined than ever to end this Killing Game.
He lost everyone else before.
He’s not about to lose you now.
K1B0
He’s on red alert.
One of your friends..was going to kill you??
He feels genuine fear for the first time.
And guilt for not being there to protect you when you needed him.
You reassure him that it’s okay--you made sure your attacker won’t try something like that again.
K1B0 isn’t 100% convinced.
He’ll go to Miu to ask for defensive upgrades.
Not only to protect himself..but to protect you, too.
#clanask#anonymous#danganronpa x reader#drv3#shuichi saihara#shuichi saihara x reader#gonta gokuhara#gonta gokuhara x reader#kokichi ouma#kokichi ouma x reader#korekiyo shinguji#korekiyo shinguji x reader#ryoma hoshi#ryoma hoshi x reader#kaito momota#kaito momota x reader#rantaro amami#rantaro amami x reader#k1b0#k1b0 x reader#headcanons#angst#hurt/comfort
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Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 14
Hannibal reads too much into Max's attempt to reconcile and cult girl revisits her past.
@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare
Trigger warnings: discussions of death, abandonment, military casualties, emotional abuse
You soon returned to the opera knowing you had nothing to hide. Hannibal selected for you an off-white maternity gown so form-fitting it was practically painted on. He wanted everyone to see that you, his queen, empress and goddess, were carrying his child.
It only took that evening for the whole dynamic to change. Suddenly, you were an expectant new mother. Imogen had been a massive hit, you were planning to go again.
You were affixing your heavy cubic zirconia earrings when you heard a knock at the door. You hesitated, but hurried down the stairs when you saw who it was.
"Max?" You said, upon opening the door. He stood there awkwardly, holding a bouquet of flowers. "Hi?"
"Hey, [F/N]." Max greeted, eyes darting nervously around the porch. "I just came around to apologize in person. I'm sorry I was such a chauvinist prick."
You leaned against the door. "Oh?"
"You were right." He continued. "I don't know what it's like to carry a baby, and, unless something goes very wrong, I never will."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." You smiled.
"Anyway, these are for you." He said, handing the bouquet over. "They're chrysanthemums."
"Thank you, Max." You said, accepting the flowers.
"Archie and I-" He scratched the back of his head. "We thought that, maybe, if you'd still have us, that we'd name the baby Chrysanthemum. With your permission, of course."
"Like the picture book?" Your face lit up. "With the little mouse girl?"
Max nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, exactly."
You hugged the bouquet into your chest and considered it again. You looked back at Hannibal, who hadn't looked up from his expectant fathers' website for a second all day. He surrounded himself with books about child psychology, attachment theory, developmental behavior patterns and somehow found himself on a tangent about institutionalized misogyny in medicine.
"I'm sorry, Max." You said, sincerely. "I really do appreciate you coming down here and apologizing, but-"
Max put his hands up and gave you a disarming smile. "I understand. Plans change."
"I just really want to stress that it's not you." You assured him. "I've kind of... really grown to like the idea of being a parent. And I think that was Hannibal's plan all along, too."
"I believe a congratulations is in order, then." His voice turned up in delight. "I'm very happy for you. Both of you."
You clutched the bouquet to your chest. "Thank you."
"Well, I'd better get going." He stepped backwards down the stairs. "I've got three pints of Ben and Jerry's in the backseat and Archie'll have my head if I come home and they've melted."
"Max, wait." You stopped him before he could get down the driveway.
"Hm?"
You leaned against the threshold and smiled warmly. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"
Max returned the smile. "Of course not."
You waved goodbye and shut the door. You hurried to the kitchen to put the flowers in water before you had to go.
"Who was that, love?" Hannibal asked, half-heartedly. He was still very fixated on his research.
"Max Thomas-Park." You answered, unwrapping the flowers from the decorative plastic.
Hannibal looked up from his computer, but left the room silent for you to fill.
"He wanted to make amends." You explained. You walked across the room to the china cabinet and selected a vase big enough to hold the ornate bouquet. "Brought flowers and everything."
"Chrysanthemums?" He asked, sniffing the air.
"I see your sense of smell is coming back." You commented.
"Interesting selection." He narrowed his eyes on the bouquet.
"Well, he said that was what he wanted to name the kid." You offered. "It was a cute pitch, not gonna lie."
Hannibal shut his laptop and examined the bouquet up close. "If he wanted to express regret, he would have done better to bring you blue or purple hyacinths."
"Well, like I said." You made a point to project a little more. "He said he wanted to name his daughter chrysanthemum."
"Mums are given to show sympathy for those in mourning." Hannibal continued, clearly having his own conversation.
"Hannibal-"
"I think your cousin got her hooks in him and he's planning to--" He cut himself off, lest he speak the unthinkable into reality. "That's why he brought mourning flowers."
"Max Thomas-Park is conspiring with Anna to kill our unborn baby?" You said, flatly, to emphasize how insane he sounded.
Hannibal held a bloom between his fingers and looked closely at it. "It's the kind of hint I would leave. For courtesy's sake."
"I think looking at parenting blogs all day has made you a little paranoid." You observed, knowing full well that an overprotective husband and soon-to-be father of your child was not a bad problem to have. Nevertheless, you shut the laptop and touched his cheek. "Come on. We're going to be late for the opera."
You heaved yourself into the passenger's seat of the car, feeling the seat give beneath your heavy frame. Every time you got into the car, you remembered that you needed to shop for a car seat. The thought just as soon left your mind every time.
“We need to look for a car seat.” You said as Hannibal shut the door, hoping that he’d remember.
“I mean,” Hannibal blurted out, still lost in his own conversation. “Max is a cultured and well-educated man. He has to know the implications of his flowers.”
You huffed, dreading to think that paranoid delusion was symptomatic of his parenting style. “Right. The twenty-seven year old data analyst who graduated with a finance MBA from UChicago is also proficient in the outdated and frivolous language of flowers.”
“In Italy, mums are only given as comfort for loss.” Hannibal said with undeserved conviction. “Exclusively, [F/N].”
You rolled your eyes and typed something up on your phone. You raised your eyebrows, feeling a bit proud of yourself for what you found.
“In Korea, y’know, the country that Max’s family is from,” You corrected. “The chrysanthemum is a symbol of friendship.”
Hannibal tensed up for a moment, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It was as if he were trying to break himself out of a trance. “...I’m sorry, darling.”
“I know you’re scared.” You stared at his profile, trying to make out an expression. “I’m also... pretty scared. But you can’t take it out on a guy who has nothing to do with it.”
“I am scared.” He affirmed, but the way in which he did was a telltale sign that he wasn’t giving you the full story.
“Of?” You raised your eyebrow. “Finish the sentence, Hannibal.”
"I need to keep our baby safe." He answered. "And I cannot in good conscience let her come into the world knowing that someone wants to hurt her. To hurt you."
You sighed. "Hannibal, are you seriously still worried about Anna?"
"Don't underestimate the role privilege and entitlement plays in the decision to commit acts of violence." He enunciated carefully. "You of all people should know that."
"Anna has cultivated such a perfect victim image to project outwardly that even a hint of proactive violence would shatter it." You explained. "She's the poor girl who has things done to her. Her evil cousin ruined her marriage. Her evil cousin destroyed her career. And she's the innocent victim in all of it."
"Logically, I know that you can speak on her behavior with more authority than I." Hannibal admitted.
"No shit." You scoffed. "I had to live with her."
"Can we at least entertain the idea that she has something planned?" He pleaded.
"I'm surprised at you." You said. "You never really struck me as the overly-cautious type."
Hannibal shook his head. "With my own life, I'm willing to gamble. But not when it's you. And not when it's Imogen."
You tensed up. His admitted willingness to put himself in danger unlocked a core memory you had buried deep down. The only thing you knew about your own father was that he was willing to put himself in danger. To go overseas and die for fuck-all instead of live for the child he selfishly created then abandoned. He chose to give his life for oil. You didn't choose to grow up without a father and your mother didn't choose to raise a child without a partner. He made that choice for you.
"Now what are you not telling me?" Hannibal broke you out of your trance. "I know that look, [F/N]."
"Nothing." You shook your head. "You should really not plan on dying anytime soon."
"I promise you, I am not going anywhere." His voice softened. "Least of all, to Iraq."
"Okay, you're a pretty good therapist but you never told me you could read minds." You threw your hands up in defeat. "Are you a psychiatrist or are you Loki?"
"As fun as being the god of mischief would be," Hannibal smiled to himself. "I just happen to have a steel-trap memory and an admittedly quite obsessive fixation on the mental health of the mother of my child."
"I swear to god I never told you about him." You denied. "Not even in passing."
"You didn't have to." He assured you. "Beatrice did."
You were surprised for a fraction of a second until the information sat in your head long enough to realize it wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Beatrice took every opportunity she got to brag about her son's sacrifices. She never once mentioned the sacrifices he forced upon you. Only that her son was a hero.
"Did you get the 'don't believe anything [F/N] has to say about my son' speech?" Your voice flattened in complete non-surprise.
"It was a prepared speech?" Hannibal chuckled. "Pity. I thought I was special."
"She gave it to my first boyfriend." You rolled your eyes. "We were, like, fifteen."
"The root of your psychological issues becomes clearer every time we talk about Beatrice." He commented under his breath.
"I know." You conceded.
He pulled into the parking lot, turned the car off and placed his hand over yours.
"Your father was a coward." He said, bluntly. It was nice to hear what had been echoing in the back of your head out loud for once. "I know no country to serve. No god to glorify. I promise, you have the whole of me. My mind, body and soul belongs to you and our child."
You squeezed his hand. "I couldn't ask for anything else."
#hannibal lecter#hannibal x you#hannibal x reader#hannibal nbc#cult girl#more cult girl#cult girl doctorate#cult girl 2#tw death#tw family#pregnant reader#hannibal x pregnant reader
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Pulse Point
A/N: Requested by anonymous. Warning for canon-typical violence; minor character death, nightmares, and post-traumatic stress. Also: borrowed Dr. Sweets from the show Bones.
Summary: A near-death experience leaves you with recurrent nightmares. Neal offers some comfort.
Word Count: 5,154
The steady beeping of hospital equipment was driving you insane. It had been hours now of nothing except the monotonous noise of your own heartbeat. If it didn’t shut up soon, you would claw your ears off. With a stiff body and an ache that penetrated down to your bones, you forced your body upright and pinched open the pulse monitor on your right hand.
You let out a relieved sigh as the equipment went silent and dropped yourself back onto the well-padded pillows behind you. The pulse monitor clattered to the floor on its long white cord and you settled down for a nap. The ache in your bones made you feel heavy, like lead. There was nothing quite like a well-deserved nap.
In mere seconds after you had closed your eyes, the equipment started acting up again, this time blaring one long, constant shriek. The surprise made your heart skip a beat, but your eyelids were too heavy to look and see what had happened. Then your heart kept skipping, and your throat tightened. You couldn’t breathe. Your chest burned. It wasn’t a heartbeat; it was a flatline.
You were dying.
The leaden feeling in your body doubled. Your muscles didn’t respond to trying to move and you couldn’t force your lungs to take in a breath. Footsteps pounded around you, incoherent shouts going in one ear and out the other. You were desperate for your paralyzed eyes to open. Was this what you’d have for the rest of your life? Nothing but darkness and unintelligible, mind-numbing noise, punctuated by electrical humming and the pain of a vice clamping itself again to your finger?
The flatline paused for a second. Your ears rang and you thought, for a moment, that you were safe, your heart was beating again. Instead, your stomach twisted and you realized you were losing feeling in your toes. No blood. No life. When the screech of your flatline came back again, it was louder, more piercing. The shrillness reminded you of screaming.
As soon as you remembered it, it was there – the same screaming as before, somewhere in your room, echoing from every corner. In the next pause of the flatline, it turned into a hoarse shriek and a plea. “No! Please!”
You couldn’t hear anything underneath it, no more overlapping voices, and your panic increased. Where were the doctors? Did they think you were gone? Help me!
Your eyes opened with a sudden snap, the droning of your alarm clock replacing the flatlining of the monitor.
As you stared at your ceiling, you panted for breath. Rationally, you knew, you had probably never stopped breathing, but in the panic of your nightmare, it felt like you’d been smothered. Terror powered your desperate gasps and convinced you that your feet and hands were numb, even as you could feel that one foot was poking out from the end of your blanket. After a long moment, you dared to move your arm, ready to scream if you weren’t dreaming after all and still couldn’t move. You turned your alarm off easily.
Soft rain pattered against the glass windows, creating shiny-looking streaks as droplets collected and streamed down the side of the building. It was much more soothing than the silence that usually reigned in Dr. Sweets’ office when he was waiting for you to talk. Maybe he should invest in one of those noise machines with rain as an option. You thought about making the suggestion, but knowing him, he would probably call you out on the procrastination, or deflection, or whatever else he wanted to call it.
You broke the silence. “I’m certain I can wait you out for the next…” You checked the clock. “Twenty-seven minutes.”
Dr. Sweets raised his eyebrows, still leaning his head on a closed fist, propped on the arm of his chair. “I’m equally certain I can recommend you remain on desk duty for the next…” He pretended to check his watch. “Twenty-seven weeks.”
You scowled.
Psychological clearance was a bureau mandate after something traumatic occurred during the course of the job. You’d been lucky enough not to need it up to this point, but after… that, you hadn’t been given a choice. Dr. Sweets was a highly qualified psychotherapist, and you were sure that he did amazing things to help a lot of people, but so far you felt neither amazed nor helped.
“Agent L/N, you went through something incredibly harrowing that you were very close to not walking away from.” The psychologist finally took his head off his fist and put his arm down in his lap. At least he’d taken the bait and you weren’t the one starting the discussion. “You were a half-inch or couple minutes from bleeding out.” He pinched his fingers to demonstrate as if you didn’t have a scar on your body that distance from your femoral artery. You’d never be able to forget what half an inch looked like.
“But I did walk away, and the person who did that to me is in prison for the rest of his life.” You crossed your legs, trying to look more comfortable than you felt. You weren’t sure how effective you were going to be at convincing a therapist that you didn’t need therapy, but it was worth the try.
He looked utterly unconvinced. Actually, the jerk looked like he knew exactly what you were trying for and thought it was cute that you thought you could trick him. “Justice, or even retribution, which it feels like you’re leaning towards, doesn’t erase a wrongdoing or its associated harm.”
“I didn’t erase it, I healed from it. I took medical leave, now I’m back.”
“Physically, you healed. It takes a lot longer to heal mentally from those kinds of wounds.”
“Does it?” You challenged.
“I think your nightmares speak for themselves,” Dr. Sweets said pointedly.
You glared at him, at a loss for a quick comeback. You knew you didn’t look like a million bucks, but you hadn’t thought it was that obvious you were losing sleep. If he knew, then the coworkers who spent a lot of time with you must know, too. Especially Neal – nothing got past him. Oh, that was embarrassing.
The nightmares had been recurring for weeks now. They had started once you had a return date to the office, but after actually resuming your work, they had increased in frequency and intensity. They weren’t identical, but they did all share some similarities: some fatal injury had you dying, alone, in the dark, like you almost had in real life. You never got to the point of actually dying in your dreams, you didn’t think, but you were just fine with that. They were bad enough as they were. Yes, they were a sign of trauma and anxiety. But if your mind didn’t heal itself from weeks safe at home, then you knew returning to normal as fast as possible was probably your best bet at getting over what had happened.
“I’m not your enemy here,” the therapist said to you more gently. You couldn’t say he was heartless, even if you didn’t enjoy the half-hour sessions where he tried to talk about your feelings whether you wanted to or not. “My goal is the same as yours. I want you back at work, safely, able to sleep through a night so you don’t jeopardize yourself or the people around you.”
You let out a deep sigh. “What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to tell me about the affect this has had on you.” Dr. Sweets encouraged, not for the first time. “You’ve accepted what happened. I can see that. But the next step is processing what it means for you, as an agent, as a person… maybe both.”
You felt helpless. What was that supposed to mean? You couldn’t very well tell him you were terrified your job was going to actually get you killed or cost more lives on your watch. When your employer paid your therapist’s bills, you couldn’t fully trust doctor-patient confidentiality. Maybe it was just paranoia, but you couldn’t bring yourself to risk it.
“I can’t sleep,” you admitted. Your tone sounded mournful. In a way, you were mourning for a time when you could sleep through the night and enjoy your days at work. It wasn’t like white-collar crime was your passion, but you did like puzzles, and you did like being around the people you worked with, especially a certain blue-eyed felon. “I keep having nightmares that I’m… injured, and I’m alone.”
“Your wire was jammed and your team didn’t hear you signal for backup.” Dr. Sweets talked slowly, patient and pragmatic as he validated your nightly anxieties. “You expected help, but they didn’t know to come.”
“They did come,” you said with a shrug. “It just… almost wasn’t in time. I know it wasn’t their fault.”
Your words about time felt glued into your ears. Yours had come really close to running out. And for what? Insurance fraud? No amount of money justified murder, and you likewise couldn’t put a price tag on a life. So why were you so eager to leap back into the same job that almost cost you yours?
It was something you had been mulling over since it happened. Your job was dangerous. You had always known that. You’d been shot at, been near explosives… your partner had been abducted by a murderer not that long ago, and your best friend had had guns in his face so often that, honestly, you’d lost count a while ago. Somehow it just hadn’t clicked, you supposed, that you could legitimately die. You were protected by the bureau and your body armor, until that wasn’t enough. Other agents had learned that lesson in a much harder way; being confronted with that was hard to simply get over.
Apparently, your use of the word “fault” led Dr. Sweets to talk to you about guilt and anger around the incident. You didn’t blame your partner or feel angry, except at the man who shot you, but you let him continue around your noncommittal, half-assed answers. You knew he at least suspected you were putting him on again, but you also knew you hadn’t given him much to work with. Then again, he didn’t call you on your bullshit replies, either, so you weren’t quite sure what he thought.
While Dr. Sweets had yet to approve you for field duty, there was still plenty to do at your desk. You pretended not to notice the itch in your legs to go somewhere while you kept yourself busy, preparing documents, performing research, helping delegate and manage case files, and topping off your team’s coffee whenever they got low. You had become even more of a desk jockey than Neal; at least he got to go out with Peter when given the green light. You missed outings with your partner, or really with any other agent.
Comparing yourself to a caged tiger was likely on the dramatic side, so you put it out of your mind and refused to feel sorry for yourself. You understood the protocols and the routines and they were for your benefit as much as the bureau’s. Besides, your team wasn’t treating you like you were fragile or demoted. They leaned on you to help just as much as they ever did, the assignment of duties just went a little differently.
You doodled a cat on your notepad during a meeting. Everyone had great ideas and you tossed in some ways you could contribute when you’d been quiet for a while. Peter’s proposed field op was going to go smoothly. Odds were high that any hiccups could be taken care of by Diana’s swift running of interference. Neal was raring to go and Jones was a little too excited to play the part of an intimidating brute, in your opinion, and Peter was appropriately apprehensive (someone ought to be, after what had happened to you).
“Let’s sleep on it,” Peter decided after looking out the window and seeing how low the sun had sunk. “If we’re all still in agreement in the morning, we’ll set the ball in motion.”
Jones graciously commented, “Good idea. We can all think on it.” He was probably the most cautious of all of you.
“Y/N?” Neal asked. You immediately looked up from your (admittedly lopsided) cat drawing. The forger was still in his chair, even while the others were pulling on their coats and blazers. “You’ve been quiet. Do you have any concerns?”
You shook your head, but not too quickly that it raised suspicion. You could get away with doodling – Peter often turned a blind eye to it; after several years, he’d developed a soft spot for you – but only if you were still paying attention and participating, so you didn’t want to give him a reason to suspect you weren’t.
Peter, Diana, and Jones all said their goodbyes. The two younger agents left the room, but Peter lingered at the doorway.
“Neal, do you want a ride?” He offered.
Neal looked from you to Peter, and then shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll find my way. You don’t want to be late for roast,” he added when Peter looked unconvinced. After glancing at you, your partner decided that he really didn’t want to be late for roast and left without another look over his shoulder.
Now that you were alone, Neal softened his expression. “Seriously, Y/N, what’s going on?”
“I told you, I’m not worried. We’ve thought of just about everything we can predict.” You said with a straight face, pretending not to know that Neal wasn’t just talking about this specific case anymore.
He wasn’t having it. “Don’t lie to a conman, Y/N,” he chided you with a small, fond smile. “Come on. It’s not just today, you’ve been quiet ever since you came back. It’s not like you.” You raised an eyebrow and pursed your lips, uninterested in talking. Neal reached partway across the table for you but stopped there. It was an invitation but not a command. “I’m worried about you.”
The thing about your history with Neal was that it was a close one. You went from strangers when Peter got him out of Sing Sing to best friends within the span of two years. You trusted him more than you trusted just about anyone, and there hadn’t been a time when one of you needed the other and was turned away. He didn’t come to you when he was upset – seeking out reassurance and comfort was not Neal’s strength, because it involved professing vulnerability – but he never turned you away when you came to offer it, either. Now it seemed to be his turn to do the offering, as he had realized over the last few weeks that you weren’t going to ask.
You reached for his hand and silently sighed in relief at how solid and warm it was to the touch, so unlike the few dreams where you screamed and cried for someone to help and found yourself grasping at tricks that weren’t there. Neal turned his hand to hold yours and gave it a squeeze.
“It’s been so hard, Neal,” you told him reluctantly. “I have no idea how you do it. How you just walk away from all the close calls.”
Neal frowned a little. “I don’t just walk away,” he objected. “I have bad nights. I have bad days. Sometimes I have a whole bad week, or a few bad months.” You knew the latter was a reference to losing Kate, and you sympathetically gripped his hand tighter. “But, you know… there’s always something I can find to focus on instead, and after a while, the things go in the past. I let go.”
That advice was entirely unhelpful. “I’ve been trying to let go,” you said sourly. It wasn’t directed at him, exactly, but moreso at your brain, which was failing in its task of moving past what happened. “It’s not working. I can’t sleep. Sometimes I don’t think I can breathe.”
“It’s not easy,” Neal agreed, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. It was an intimately affectionate gesture that comforted and eased the nerves beginning to bubble in your stomach. “Company helps. The reminder that I have backup, even when it doesn’t come right away. I’ve got Peter, Moz. You.” He met your eyes with a small smile and raised your hand to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.
“Company?” You echoed uncertainly. If you were unconscious, how was company going to make a difference to what you dreamed about? Then you remembered what you had said to Dr. Sweets about your nightmares always ending with being alone. If you knew, on some level, that you weren’t alone, maybe you would feel safer. “Like, overnight?”
His expression didn’t change to give away whether you were right or wrong. Instead, he just asked, evenly, “Is that what you need?” The way he looked at you then, without judgment in his eyes, but with determination in the set of his jaw, you just knew that whatever you said you needed, Neal would move a mountain to give it to you.
“I’m not sure, but… maybe?” You hesitantly guessed. If it worked, it would be worth the awkwardness. Even just one night of solid sleep would do wonders for how you felt, and it wasn’t like it would be the first time you had stayed with Neal overnight. Long marathons on slow weekends, and the less pleasant nights after Kate’s death, meant he kept an extra toothbrush and a set of your pajamas in his penthouse.
“Okay,” he said right away with nothing but quiet matter-of-factness. It was so comforting to be proven right that you could rely on him to help you with what you needed. His tone just said, you need this, so we’re doing it, full-stop. You just hoped you were right, both so you could finally go eight hours without fearing for your life and so you weren’t inconveniencing him for no reason. “Let’s get dinner on the way. We don’t have to talk about it,” he quickly said, seeing your face. “Whatever you need.”
Everyone should have a friend like Neal, but everyone should find their own, because this one was all yours. If it weren’t for the table in the way, you would’ve launched yourself at him in a tight hug. As it was, you settled for a squeeze of his hand and a grin as wide as you could muster. “Dinner sounds great.”
The stickiness of your pants along your thigh made your hands shake, unable to bring yourself to look at your palms. You knew what you would see all over them. The fire lancing up your thigh told you what you already knew. So did the weakness in your body and the fog in your mind. It was done. The hourglass on the desk was trickling through the last of its sand. Moretti was nowhere to be seen. You couldn’t even die in the presence of a murderer.
There was screaming coming from another room. It was the desperate wail of another agent begging for their life. “No! Please!”
“No,” you mumbled, using all of your energy to turn your head to the doorway. He couldn’t… not now that you were down… you couldn’t even raise your voice to cry for help. You were completely helpless. You couldn’t save him.
Your chest burned with the effort of your heart, ironically helping you to bleed out faster. Your breaths came labored, and then they couldn’t come at all as your vision faded. The dark carpet blurred from a mass of pilled fibers into a solid navy sea. The pain in your leg was excruciating, it was all you could feel; the idea of feeling peace ever again slipping away.
Screaming. Banging. Footsteps. More screaming. Pounding. Shouting. It was all indistinguishable, a mess of men’s voices and loud gunshots. Then, you heard it. Just your name, barely audible above the rest, in a voice that made you strain to see past the blackness.
“Y/N!”
You’d give the rest of your precious seconds away just to see him one last time, just to know he was beside you and you weren’t alone.
“Y/N!”
Footsteps came closer and the pressure on your chest intensified. The blood loss made you dizzy and your body shook.
“Y/N!”
You jolted awake, eyes snapping open in time to see Neal leaning out of the way just in time to avoid your hand flying at his face. You processed slowly that his hands were on your shoulders – had he shaken you? – and it was still dark. You could barely see his face, but his figure was lit from behind by the lamp next to his bed. You could tell from his messy hair that he had been sleeping not long ago, and you felt awful for waking him up.
After cursing, you sat up and gripped the warm blanket on your lap tightly. “I’m sorry,” you said remorsefully, feeling like a fool. Not only hadn’t you been able to sleep through the night, but now you’d ruined his rest, too. You cussed again. “I really hoped being close… just not being at my apartment, alone…”
It had felt like a safe bet off to a good start. You had gotten dinner together near Gramercy Park, then watched a lighthearted movie before turning in for bed. Neal offered to let you take his mattress, but you didn’t want to put him out and you had slept over enough that he didn’t feel like a bad host for letting you insist on the sofa. You’d been out by ten, but now you could guess it had been less than four hours. Your heart was still racing, your leg still tense with an imagined pain.
“It’s okay,” Neal said, sounding unsettled. He kept his hands on your shoulders like he was keeping you grounded on the earth. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”
Neal’s eyes must have already adjusted to the low light, because his aim was spot-on when he lifted a hand from your shoulder to cup your neck instead. His profile ducked and you felt his lips land on your forehead, checking your temperature, signalling forgiveness, and administering reassurance all at once. He rubbed his thumb across your jaw as he stood up straight, releasing you, and walked away around the couch.
You put your legs down in front of you and rubbed your face, exhausted mentally and physically. Helplessness made you want to cry. Time wasn’t healing. Sleeping pills just made it harder to wake up, letting the nightmares ravage your psyche for longer. Not even the proximity of someone you trusted and adored was enough to let go of the past.
The light in the kitchen came on, bright enough to illuminate the studio but far enough away not to be blinding. Neal came back to the couch holding a bottle of water and offered it to you before sitting down. He looked so adorable, still sleepy and with a bit of pink in the side of his face from sleeping with his arm under his pillow. You scolded yourself for even thinking about how cute he was when you were the one who had woken him up.
You sipped at the water. It was so nice and smooth on your throat. You felt fine, now that you were awake, but the vividness of your nightmares always left you feeling parched and you always expected swallowing to hurt as if you had strep. Neal leaned into the back of the couch and put his arm up along the cushions. You capped the water, bent your knees to pull your feet back up onto the furniture, and let yourself lean into his side. Neal dropped his arm softly on your shoulders, holding you in a tender sideways hug.
“I’m sorry,” you apologized again after a couple of minutes. You felt much better, much faster than you usually did, thanks to him, and if you were being fully honest, you were not ready for him to get up and go back to bed, but it wasn’t fair to ask him to stay up cuddling you at god-knows-what-time just because you were a wreck.
“I told you, it’s okay,” Neal said, his voice firm. If you apologized again, you figured he would start scolding you for it, so you let it go.
“I just – I should’ve expected this,” you said with frustration, feeling like you were confessing to knowingly bothering him. “I haven’t been able to sleep well in ages. I keep having these nightmares, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
Neal was quiet for a few seconds, making sure you had said all you were inclined to. Then, knowingly, he asked, “This is about the Moretti case, isn’t it?”
“I can’t let it go,” you said with a whimper. “It won’t leave me alone. Every night, it’s a little bit different, but at its core it’s always the same.”
Neal’s voice cutting through the fog of your nightmare had been a saving grace, giving you peace even in your unconscious, but now that you were awake, you realized with clarity that his voice saying your name wasn’t the only voice you could make out. In fact, you always heard the same thing, every night, no matter what else changed.
“What’s the same, Y/N?” Neal asked you, trying to help. He stroked your upper arm with his open hand. You were already shaking your head. Neal could comfort you all he liked, but he couldn’t bring back the dead. In grief and shame, you turned your head and bent your neck to bury your face in his shoulder. Neal tilted his head so his cheek was resting gently on your hair. “Tell me, darling,” he coaxed in a whisper.
You felt like someone’s hands were wrapped around your throat, strangling your reply. “Agent Flynn,” you answered dryly, barely more than mouthing his name. “In every nightmare, I hear… I hear his last words. Begging Moretti not to take the shot.”
Neal was quiet for a long time, but never pushed you away. He held you closer when you started to shake, crying against him as quietly as you could manage. The artist rubbed your arm and periodically kissed your head, but he knew that there was nothing he could say to erase the horror of what you had heard or take away the guilt that you had survived because Moretti was distracted by taking out the other agent.
Moretti was part of a family gang, often in conflict with the Barellis, who, interestingly, paid a little deference to the white-collar division ever since you and Peter had recovered a stolen Book of Hours. The Morettis had no such connection or gratitude, so their response to the FBI sticking their nose into an embezzling scam was violent and bloody. Moretti shot you in the leg and intended to finish you off, but one of his own men had reported you came with someone. He left you to bleed out, and only a few rooms over, you had heard Flynn’s pleas – and the subsequent gunshot. Your team, wising up to the dead signal, arrived for a takedown before Moretti could make his way back to you, but it was too late for your teammate.
Neal shifted after what felt like forever, only to pull you closer to his chest and wrap both arms around you. You trembled in his embrace, but that just made him hold you closer, like you were delicate and breakable. When he next talked, his low voice was quivering, just like your body.
“I thought we lost you,” he said, cupping the back of your head in a gentle hand. He massaged his fingers into your scalp, even as he kept you cuddled in his lap. “I thought I lost you, Y/N. Two gunshots. I thought…” He struggled to find his words and you hiccuped, trying to stop crying. “I was the one who found you, and I was so scared I was too late.”
You sniffled and uncrossed your arms to melt against his chest and hug him tightly around his waist instead. “I didn’t know you…”
“We found him first, but you weren’t there and I needed to find you.” Neal now sounded equal parts frightened and furious. “If he had taken you away, I would’ve…” He shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours, as desperate to be close to you as you felt to be close to him. “I would’ve shattered. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I just can’t lose you, too.”
“I’m so glad I didn’t die,” you blurted, almost in a sob. You felt so safe with him, but now you knew for a fact that your own safety wasn’t what had been tormenting you. It was a nearly debilitating case of survivor’s guilt. “I just wish I hadn’t been the only one who survived.”
“No one wants that,” Neal promised you, untangling his hand from your hair and stroking it down instead. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could fix this and take it away, but all I can do is be here and hold you and tell you it’s going to be alright. It wasn’t your fault.”
You sniffed. Neal’s words were more of a comfort than you had thought they would be. They changed nothing about the situation, but… you weren’t alone. You hadn’t been alone since you met him. You just agonized that Flynn had been. “Neal, I can’t lose you, either. I love you, you’re… you’re who I’m going to heal for.” You had to find a way.
Neal seized your lips with his in a searing kiss. It wasn’t as sexy or patient as you may have imagined, but you gripped his shirt and gave as good as you got, and wow, the man gave verygood. It was a desperate kiss, needing to bring you together and reaffirm your life. To you, it was the seal of a promise that you wouldn’t let the past crush your spirit. When you could sleep through the night and had a handle on your post-traumatic stress… if he would just be patient, you would be his the way you wanted him to be yours.
He released you to breathe, eyes opening wide as if he only just realized what he had done. Before he could pull away, you pressed your forehead to his again, urging him to stay close. Your breaths mingled between you and you were sure you could feel his heart beating through his chest.
“I love you, too,” he said once he had caught his breath.
#lawmen and conmen#white collar lawmen and conmen#white collar#white collar x reader#neal caffrey#neal caffrey x reader#requested#oneshot#pulse point#x reader#reader insert#angst#hurt/comfort#comfort#ptsd#peter burke#nightmares#fic#bones#lance sweets#sweets
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call me babydoll | reader x chan
a/n: ahhhhh wow WOW cuties LOL i was not expecting this fic idea to keep me up in my sleep and occupy all my waking thoughts BUT thank you so so much for you words of support!! hehe well....here we goooo i hope that ya’ll are ready teehee--also tags will be added as they come! You can read part one here
Two
Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan
Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst
Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, jeongin in this fic is my bb and i will protect him, sexy and smart jeongin tho still hehe
CWs: mentions of death, people dying/killing, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of getting drunk, hungover, and vomiting, a bombing.
Word count: 5.2k
Parts
ONE | TWO | THREE
The road was long and winding, pitch black, desolate, quiet and foreign. In the backseat of the car, Chan had slumped his head over on Jeongin’s shoulder and bobbed with the motions of the road. His nose would twitch in his sleep, and he would make little grunts of nonsense words. He had worked himself up after the banquet, and actually hadn’t stopped his “love confessions” until you told him to shut up or you would shut him up.
Your partner’s glasses were illuminated from the screen of his laptop which he tapped quietly away at. You too felt drowsy, but sleep would be for later once you had properly arrived at the safe house, or safe hotel, or safe hole in the ground...whatever it was.
“You hear anything from Carroll?” You slung your arm over the seat and lowered your voice.
“Nothing yet.” His eyes flicked around the screen. “It’s almost like it’s too quiet. I’ve already told her that we have the prince and that he’s safe, but..nothing.”
“You don’t think...they got targeted too?”
Chan snored lightly on his bodyguard’s shoulder, and he didn’t dare to move an inch.
“I sure as hell hope not. But...that would explain why things have been so quiet. If this was a larger scale attack...I don’t know what this could mean then.”
From the darkness of the outside world in the car windows, you passed a forest of pines and oher types of stoic trees making up the mountainside.
“Well, I think that we should be optimistic for the time being.”
Jeongin nodded. He looked to be a mess: blood had splattered at his white shirt collar and in specks on his neck. His cracked lenses however, didn’t keep him from his work. He had pulled his tie loosely around his neck, and had also provided his jacket as a pseudo-blanket of sorts for the prince. The prince, had offered his own jacket to you seeing as you only had your dress, but you had been managing just fine. You accepted it, but only because it could soothe his chivalrous ego. He had a hard night already, so you saw it best.
“Two, where are you taking us?” You called to the mysterious driver.
Ever since meeting him at the hotel, he had been nearly silent the whole ride.
The man cleared his throat, “As far away from here as I can. I don’t know of any safe houses so...I’m just trying to remove us.”
“I can find one for us if Carroll doesn’t get back to me....which she should...”
Jeongin was not one for speaking of his mother as anything other than his boss. Since he had been assigned to be your partner a few months ago, he had never referred to her as his mother, nor did he ever seem to harbor any emotion for the stern woman. Both of them had been a bit allusive to you, but that was simply how it was in this line of work. You didn’t know things about the people around you, and you didn’t need to ask. You had wondered if he had worried about her, or thought about her when you were on missions. The young man had trained rigorously, and had passed each exam from the academy with flying colors. After considering it for a while, you figured what immense pressure he must've been under: son of the woman in charge, a master at infiltration, espionage, manipulation, cybersecurity, and a million more things; he had to prove himself and more.
You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, but you almost did wish that you had known more.
Two fiddled with the radio, settling on a station that played some kind of country-western type music.
“What’s your specialty Two? How’d you end up a part of this shitshow?”
The driver laughed, then hummed along with the music for a moment. “This has been my gig for few years, but I’ve never been a part of this unit before. Carroll always saw it best for my services to be used in other places.”
“You have a specialty?” Jeongin asked while still typing furiously.
Two scratched the back of his head. “I do a little bit of everything. But...let’s just say that I’m good at making friends. That’s why Carroll likes me.”
“--You know her personally?” Your partner quipped, but the edge to his voice didn’t sound like judgement, but rather caution.
“We’ve had a few meetings.”
“Hm.”
You kicked off your heals to massage your aching toes. If only they had attacked at a time when you had the proper footwear.
“You said we could also call you J?” You sprawled over the back seat in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable. Still, the plastic seatbelt buckles poked into your back.
“Yes. You can call me J.”
And that was that. No “What’s J stand for”, or “where are you from”, “where’s your home base,” “how did you rank at the academy?” You added questions to the list of things that weren’t allowed as well.
Jeongin tore off his glasses with an exasperated sigh to rub at his tired eyes. Chan made a happy little noise, presumably because he had found a cozier spot on Jeongin’s shoulder. He had now gotten the chance to sleep off his drunken stupor that may or may not had contributed to his sudden confession, and the reason behind the two pitstops you had taken for him to retch on the side of the road.
If he was a prince, he might’ve also been one mess of a prince. In all of his grace and confidence, the pleasures that he partook in would often get the best of him at times too.
You gave up on trying to get some sleep, but rather sat up to watch that paradoxically handsome and misshapen prince. Just like this: sleeping, vulnerable, with some kind of lopsided smirk on his face, he was much less than the regal figure that you had painted him to be in your mind. For maintaining appearances the whole day long, you hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to see him like this before. His façade faded, and you surmised that maybe he really was different from the way that he let on.
“I’m so fucking tired.” Jeongin yawned.
“Get some sleep then. I’ll stay up to watch things.”
“That’s just it. I can’t sleep even if I tried.”
“What do you mean?”
“Can you pass me some hand sanitizer or something? There’s...blood on my hands.”
Your partner’s voice cracked slightly. It was then when you realized that this had been the first time that he had fired at real people.
“I’ve got a water bottle? Is that enough?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
He splashed the liquids around while wiping his hands away, then flicked the remnants of water away.
“Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.”
“How do you mean?”
Chan’s coat draped over your shoulders, and you pulled it in closer around your arms. The night had been cool, and the AC blasting in the car didn’t make it much better.
Jeongin licked his lips. “Nothing was supposed to happen tonight. We made sure of it. No one was suspicious, we ran background checks, we checked the whole area...”
“Hey,” You attempted to turn your tone softer, “We couldn’t have seen it coming. They just rolled up out of nowhere, there was no way that we could’ve stopped it--”
“--Innocent people died tonight. If they were out for the prince, or maybe they weren’t, why so much collateral damage?”
“Obviously they don’t care.”
“Bastards.” Jeongin took the last bits of water to slug. “We’re gonna fucking find out why they did all of this.”
Two shifted in his seat, “Any word? Hate to mention it, but I’m getting kinda tired. It’s past three already.”
“Fox?”
He clicked around, then shook his head. “Still nothing.”
Chan snorted a bit in his sleep: an action which woke him up.
“Wha-what? Where are we? Are the there yet? What time is it? Fuck...my head feels like it’s splitting...”
“We’re finding somewhere, your Highness. We’ll be there soon.” Your partner motioned for you to hand him another water to give to the disorientated prince.
Chan nodded while he rubbed his temples. “Shit. Please tell me that I just made this all up. That it’s some kind of fucked up nightmare...”
You threw Chan’s coat back to him. “Unfortunately, no. We’re trying to figure out everything that we can.”
“Who the hell were those guys?” Water dripped down his neck in a way that you pretended not to notice. “They were wearing crests. I couldn’t tell, but weren’t they red?”
“Very observant, your Highness. F?”
The younger man bit his lip, “I’ve already tried finding where the crest is from, but I can’t find anything that resembles it within our database. I was able to see one up close. It looked like a heart or something like that, and a diamond. I’m guessing that it could’ve been maybe a spade? Like the kind that you see on playing cards? Still, since we’ve never seen it before, we can only assume that they must be a new group.”
Chan nodded, but anyone could tell that the information had flown right over his head. He licked at his wet lips, then sighed.
“Bee, You okay? Fox? I suppose that I should ask you both.”
“I’m...fine.” His sudden concern came as a surprise, and your partner looked just as shocked.
“I-I’m fine too. No holes in me or anything.” Jeongin suppressed a laugh. “But you’re not, your Highness. How much did you have to drink?”
“Oh...enough. I guess that I lost track at some point. Those kind of things are boring anyway.”
“Fox? You’ve got that locale?” Two clicked the turn signal.
“Oh! Yeah, I’ve got one. Sorry, It’s about an hour from here.”
“Locale?” Chan cocked his head.
“A safe house. Or something like that. We need to lie low while we wait for instructions.”
“No one has said anything...? Not even...my father?”
Jeongin shook his head gravely. “No.”
The young prince fell silent, and you watched as worry fell over his clouded eyes that were lined with bags. Normally his expression was anything but strained, but in this moment, you saw doubt sweep over him like the darkness on the road ahead. You leaned the farthest you could from your seat to grab at his hand behind you.
“You’re safe with us. Nothing is going to happen to you.”
His hand was warm, maybe a little clammy, but it was soft, like that of a prince, naturally. Still, it was strong and veined. Chan’s thumb rubbed soft little circles into your own skin, muttering, “Thank you.” For once, his eyes which would normally devour you like some kind of rare dish held you earnestly. I trust you, they said.
“Two. Let’s switch.” Jeongin slammed his laptop closed. “I’ve got it from here.”
━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━
The safe house was quiet. As most of them where. It was even a bit stereotypical: a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods on nearly all sides. It had a little overgrown garden, and a shed that looked like it held either all kinds of gardening equipment, or the real thing that sheds were meant for in your business: ammo. It had a white painted porch with cracking paint, as well as porch swing with rusting chains. In the early morning the windows were are black, but still faintly reflected the massive array of sparking stars above your heads. The only thing less antique about the home was the touch keypad on the front door. It beeped with a little tune, then flashed the insignia of the agency: a ticking clock.
“Two, can you find a generator or something? Get the electricity up and going?”
“Can do,” He said, then disappeared.
Two was mostly a quiet man, a feature that gave you both reasons to trust him and to be suspicious. Besides him being a bit smaller in stature with thin legs and characteristically round cheeks, there was something different about him that you couldn’t place; something unexpected. You wished once again that questions weren’t on the list of things that weren’t allowed.
“There should be clothes around here somewhere.” Jeongin padded his way through the dark rooms. “You shower first your Highness.”
Chan tripped over his feet as he spread out his arms to find his way. You giggled lightly at the action. A man really was stripped down of any and all sense of composure when his life had been threatened and he had to have his bodyguards pat his back while he had gotten sick after one too many royal drinks.
The lights flashed on, flickering at first with the sound of the lightbulbs waking up after a long sleep. The interior design of the place was exactly as you had expected: it was a family home with a fireplace and several chairs and couches covered in dust. Bookshelves were full with the strangest assortment of reading material and board games there held a thin layer of grey dust too. The kitchen was small and cozy: it had all the necessities. A stained glass chandelier hung over the wooden table for eight, and was decorated with glass hummingbirds and pink flowers. In odd corners of the house, children’s toys had been sitting untouched. A family must’ve been living there, and you wondered what must’ve become of them.
Two returned with spiderwebs caught on his dress coat. “Water should be hot in about thirty minutes or so I think.”
Your partner crossed the room, raking a hand through his snowy white hair. “I’m gonna try and make the calls again. See if I get anything. If not, we’ll have to...begin Operation Cheshire.”
It was the phrase that you had hoped neither you nor your partner would have to say.
Chan slumped down in one of the upholstered chairs, throwing dust into the air as he did. Compared to the rest of the room, him and his designer clothes seemed comically out of place. “Wha-what’s that?”
Two pinched between his eyes, and your chest shook with an unsure inhale.
“It means that we assume the worst. HQ got taken over and we’re all at risk. Information about us could be accessible to anyone. Essentially, we go into sleeper mode until we can reconvene with other agents...if there are any more. We dissapear. Next, we work on getting you back home, no matter what it takes.”
“HQ?” What are you talking about?” Chan toyed with his diamond set cufflinks. “HQ? Like whoever manages the bodyguards??”
“Your Highness...” You and your partner exchanged knowing glances. “We’re more than bodyguards.”
“What?!”
“We’re operatives. Agents. We work for an intelligence agency that specializes in a bunch of different things...protecting royalty if needed.”
“What the fuck?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? Chan slapped his leg. “Fuck! No one tells me anything!!! I get that I’m a fucking prince but I’m not fucking useless!”
The memory of the confidential file reemerged in your memory: the promise that you had made to His Majesty The King after he had requested a “special hire” to watch over his son. The file itself had contained a several thousand words or so that you hadn’t bothered to read, but rather skimmed till you got to the signature part. Carroll had simply nodded before you put your pen to the paper.
“It was for your saf--”
“--My father did this, didn’t he? Didn’t he? Some kind of sick way to keep tabs on me? See what I’m doing?? God! The man never trusts me. If the thinks that I’m that much of a disappointment...this is just--”
“Your Highness, it’s been a long day, you’ve been through a lot, just take a shower and get some rest. Alright? We’ll talk more about this in the morning.” Two stepped forward with his hands folded in front of him. His interjection was unlike his previously quiet presence.
The prince sighed, tapping his tragically expensive shoe on the hardwood.
“Fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
Chan’s eyes grew dark with an authoritative air that you had seen before. His façade had slipped over him like a cloak. He rose, buttoning his jacket, then tweaking his sliver brooches decorating his neck.
“Fox. Bee. Two. Thank you. Good evening.”
━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━
Chan knew that it was you at the door when you would knock two times, then pause, and knock twice more. In your hands, you held a cup of warm milk. For a prince, even he couldn’t reject the beverage to help him fall asleep at night. You had seen him order it at hotels on more than one occasion. Jeongin had found a nearby store to get food for the morning. The two of you had suddenly found yourselves as now both his bodyguards and his servants. While you waited, you hoped to God that Carroll would compensate you for the extra work.
The door creaked open, revealing your prince modestly dressed in plaid flannel, hair dripping slightly in wet strands. You had never seen him as simple as this before: no princely persona or cold exterior to upkeep. He looked...normal.
“What is it Bee?”
“I thought you might like some...well, this.” You provided him with the cup. “I know that it’s nearly morning, but you should still try to sleep in. We’ll take care of things.
He took the ceramic mug from your hands, fingers barely brushing against yours for mere moments.
“Thank you.” He hushed with a thankful smile. “Would you like to come in? We could...just kind of...sit for a minute.”
Behind him, sun peaked at the horizon, a splitting of red piercing the navy deep of the night. The colors muddled, blurred, a bit like the color of blood fading into the deep fabric of one’s formal wear. It was desolate, but still beautiful.
“To be honest,” His eyes fell, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
You had saved the biggest room for him. It smelled of mothballs and other old things like sheets that had rested in a dark room for much too long. Still, there was a kind of familiarity to it all and the way that the matted rugs and brass vintage lamps lit the room with a soft yellow light. The full sized bed creaked once you had sat down. In his golden halo, Chan’s brown strands appeared to be softer, and not as prim and staged.
“I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I realized that there are things that are out of my control. You know more than I do, and I accept that. I trust you...a-and Fox.”
You rubbed your hands into the jeans you had found in the cupboard. They had dirt and grass stains from work in the garden you presumed.
“It’s okay. I understand that you would be scared. It’s okay to be. I...get scared sometimes too. I know that it might look like it, but I fear...for my life too. So does Jeong--Fox.”
Chan’s voice cracked. “Is someone out to kill me?”
You sighed, sensing his hesitation. “I don’t know. But we will know soon.”
The prince stared down at the white bubbles in his milk, then swirled around the liquid to watch the way that that it moved.
“I don’t think I’d like to die. Would be pretty unfortunate, don’t you think? I feel like I’ve got so many other things to do. A kingdom to manage, people to govern, much more bottles of Scotch to drink, parties to attend...”
His eyes met yours, and you could see the very fragility of the life that he spoke of right in them. He was right in that dumb speech of his. He really was just a person.
“...I like to think that I’ll get married someday to someone that I love. I actually would really like to do that.” He chuckled. “Lame, right? Someone like me who always bounces around. Wouldn’t take me for one?”
“Mm. No. I think that from what I’ve observed of you, and I’m trained to observe, I think that bouncing around...means you’re looking for the right thing. And, I guess that it’s fun too.”
Chan chuckled, “You’re good at observing.”
You paused, remembering Lee Minho from earlier.
“Were you looking when you were talking to that man at the banquet? He was very handsome.”
The prince placed the cup down. “He was. I don’t know. He just seemed kind of interesting. The kind of mystery that only a stranger has. I would’ve liked to have talked to him more now that I think about it. Maybe it would’ve been worth my time.” Chan twisted his back to crack it. “I don’t know if you saw but he had some really nice fucking thighs.”
“Ahhh. Nice thighs. Didn’t know that you cared for that.”
The two of you laughed together a bit like old friends. It felt nice.
“...Bee. I should also probably apologize for how I acted back before we got in the car. I was...drunk, scared. I said some things--”
“--That you were in love with me?”
“Yeah...that. I realized that...I’ve been...unfair to you. You don’t deserve the ridicule. You’ve only ever been helpful to me and--”
“--Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” You shrugged. You had met hundreds of guys like him before, at least you thought.
Chan sighed as if he was gathering himself. “Bee. I did mean what I said.”
“What? Ch-your Highness, you don’t mean that.”
He laughed, “It’s alright. You can call me Chan. And...yes. I did. You’ve got a kind of mystery to you too. Frankly, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“This...this is inappropriate.” You shifted, the rising off the bed. Your cheeks warmed, but you couldn’t know why. Maybe he was just too damn charming. But, he was like that with everyone.
He rose too, hastily following you on your way to the door. “Bee, wait.”
“Chan, you can’t do this. It makes things...complicated.”
He advanced, slowly, closing the space between you. “It’s only complicated if you feel the same.”
“I-I don’t.”
The prince’s hand carefully rose to cup your face, a gesture so gentle that you shied from the feeling. Even this close still he smelled of white roses.
“Have you ever heard of conflict of interest?” Your breath hitched.
Chan grinned, “There you go making this complicated again.”
A wandering hand of yours acting on its own reached to tug hold of his shirt.
The prince leaned in closer, nearly close enough to breech the gap between his plush lips and yours.
“What if I don’t mind making things...” He whispered the word, grazing his mouth over yours, “...complicated?”
“Ch--”
He pressed his weight fully into you, a smashing of lips met with incessant heat and your back shoved into the door. His tongue easily twisted around yours, and his soft gasps filled up your mouth. It had taken you a couple seconds to realize what had happened, and to decide what to do with yourself. His mouth was blazing, it was as if he was weaving a spell, or perhaps you had made it up for yourself. He kissed you with vitality; like he had never tasted anything like you before and was starving for you. You realized, perhaps you had wondered what it would’ve felt like. One hand squeezed tighter to his shirt, and you kissed back, meeting his heat.
Jeongin’s voice called down the hall, “Bee? Bee, are you there?” The sound of your bedroom door shut.
You pushed Chan off you with flat hands on his chest and an amazed smile on his face.
“This...this doesn’t mean anything.” You gasped, reaching for the knob after a moments pause.
Chan snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Goodnight your Highness.”
━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━
For a man so young Jeongin liked his coffee black, and drank it like an old man too with his nose buried in a newspaper while it fogged up his glasses--or what was left of them.
“I finally got correspondence from Carroll this morning. She said that HQ experienced some kind of blackout and all the systems went offline. It wasn’t safe for her to contact us on a regular line. They got everything back up and running and everything seems fine, or so they think.”
Your partner had already made himself comfortable in a pair of sweatpants and a cotton tee with slippers. You never would’ve guessed that he was a trained assassin on the side.
Two returned huffing in the door from his morning run. He was one of those people.
“Any word?” He rubbed his face off with a dishtowel.
“Disgusting.” You sneered at the crude action.
“Well, we’ve got thousands of miles between us and the kingdom and what seems like a hell of a lot of guys on our tail, but, after I sent Carroll the info about the red crest, she wants us to do some digging.
“With the prince in tow?” You lowered your voice lest the sleeping royal heard you. “I don’t think so.”
“It sounds like she’s convinced that the person behind all of this could be someone who attended the charity ball. And, I don’t really disagree. They must be good at keeping secrets if they evaded us.”
“Hm. You’re right. A high profile event like that, even though its for a good cause it’s always a competition with those snobs. I just don’t know who could order something so cruel...all those people in the same place...”
“Since it’s a new group, they must still be underground. So, to see who lives underground, you’ve got to go there yourself to find out. Or, in our case, find someone who knows the rabbit hole.”
Two grabbed a chair, ruffling his deep brown soaked hair. “What does that mean?”
Jeongin flipped his laptop around. “This is the man that we need to go see. Codename White Rabbit. Or as he calls himself--”
“--Bun.” You cut in. “Yeah, I know him.”
Both of the men chimed, “You do?”
“Yeah, he’s undercover ops for the agency. He’s sort of a jack of all trades. He owns some kind of front out in Egypt. It’s called The Tea Party. Bar up front, but in the back he provides all kinds of information--for both sides. His cut is that for any information he gives to the agency he gets cash compensation. If anyone would know about anything underground, it would be him. As I’m sure Carroll told you, he’s a stickler for meeting in person. He’s one of us. I think.”
“You think?”
“He also does...other deviant things. I heard that these days he’s had a couple dealings in some...substances. Black market stuff. Carroll also provides safety for his business in return for his information.”
“That...sounds illegal. Immoral even.” Jeongin’s eyes widened upon hearing the news about his mother.
“You’ve got to pay to play you know.”
“So Egypt then?” Two wiped off the back of his neck with the dishtowel, stretching out one of his toned arms. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“Oh--one more thing.” Jeongin took a rather long sip from his cup. “The King’s counsel reached out to me too this morning. They asked me if the Prince was safe and where we were. I have them loose details of both. They seemed somewhat relieved.”
Chan sauntered down the steps with a massive yawn, stretching up his arms and shirt to reveal an inkling of his abs. You also pretended not to notice it.
“Gooood morning everyone. Fox. Two.” He dished out a wink. “Bee.”
“Morning your Highness.” Jeongin nodded, and crossed his legs. “Feeling well?”
“Ahhh much better.” He poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, staring out the little window over the sink, then took an indulgent sip. “It’s peaceful here. I kind of like that.”
“Your Highness, we’ve received word--”
Chan rose his hand to shush your partner, then languidly took another sip. “I’m still enjoying my drink F.”
A light buzzing resonated somewhere in the house, a bit like the sound of a dryer, and the home started vibrating. Your water glass on the table rippled.
“Two, did you notice if there was anything strange about the house?”
The buzzing grew nearer.
Two looked puzzled, “No, why?”
The vibrating grew more violent, and your glass shuddered off the wooden table, shattering on the ground upon impact.
Chan squinted out the window, “Is that a--”
“CHAN GET DOWN!” You shrieked.
Within milliseconds the whistling of a bomb screeched through the air, then crashed into the rickety ceiling, splintering wood everywhere and demolishing the furniture.
You had seconds to act while the matte black bomb hissed with a steam releasing from some seam and ticked. You sprinted to grab Chan’s arm as hard as you possibly good, all in a blur, pummeling your bodies against one of the shattered windows, and hurling yourself out to the morning dew. You had no time to see if Jeongin or Two had made their exit, but looked out, towing the prince so hard you must’ve done some damage to his shoulder. You stumbled to your feet, tripping, and grunting until the bomb diffused, and exploded the cottage altogether. You covered Chan’s head and most of his body with your own as a shield and the shards of wood, metal, and brick came flying.
“Ar-are you okay?” You patted the prince down in his shock, who stared blankly with empty eyes.
The prince’s flannel had been torn to shreds with glass, and blood oozed onto the fabric on his arms.
“Yeah...yeah...I’m...fine.”
“BEE! Y/N!” Jeongin screamed over the flames to find you.
“OVER HERE!” You bellowed back, and your partner came running with Two behind him with terrible cuts on his face.
“They knew. They FUCKING knew.” He panted after reaching you.
“We have to get out of here.” Two gasped, and blood ran down his face, nearly into his eye. “If they know where we are now, they’ll come to check to see if the damage is done. We have to move.”
The sky filled with an angry smoke, and the once peaceful forest filled with the colors of orange and red.
“The car?”
“Broken windows from the blast but I should be able to get it going. There’s spare parts in the shed. And ammo. A fuck ton of it.”
“We’ll need it.”
You pulled the prince to his feet as he blinked wildly at you and your team.
“Fuck.” Was all the could manage.
In your complete surprise, Chan’s bloodied and cracked hands pulled your face into his, kissing you with lips that tasted of the salt of blood.
“I fucking love you Bee. I’ve decided.”
Jeongin’s jaw dropped in the corner of your eye, so you promptly slapped the prince upside the face.
“You’re in shock. We need to get out of here.”
A wrinkled smile danced on the royal’s face, and you might’ve thought that it was a bit charming.
“Admit it. You love me too Bee.”
~🌹~
Bunch of (Ro)ses!
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#FRICK#this fic is so fun uwu#skz smut#stray kids smut#kpop smut#bang chan smut#chan smut#skz fanfic#skz imagines#stray kids fanfic#stray kids imagines#stray kids drabbles#stray kids oneshots#stray kids fanfiction#bang chan x reader#bang chan x you#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x female reader#bang chan x female reader smut#kpop imagines#kpop drabbles#kpop oneshots#kpop scenarios#stray kids scenarios#kpop fanfiction#skz angst#stray kids angst
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Love of my Life - (8) Decapitation is usually a cure-all
Summary: Sam, Dean and Y/N travel to Idaho to help out a friend.
Warnings: Show level violence.
A/N: I'm trying my hardest to get the chapters I already have written published quickly. I have a final coming up that I'll have to take a few days to study for before I can get back to this story.
Series Masterlist
You were the first to wake in the morning, probably because you slept on a couch made of bricks. You stood up and stretched your sore back, looking over at the boys sleeping soundly and feeling a pang of jealousy at their comfort. Grabbing your bag, you quietly went into the bathroom and closed the door then started up the shower. By the time you were cleaned up and ready, the boys were awake and shoving clothes into their bags.
“Mornin’ sunshine.” Dean beamed at you.
“Hey yourself. You guys ready to go?”
“Almost.” Sam grumbled and rubbed his hands over his face. “I dibs the bathroom next.” He grabbed a small black toiletry bag and yawned as he shut the door behind him.
Dean was wearing a dark green henley and you couldn’t help but stare at the man as his muscles bugled through the thin fabric while he packed his things.
Don’t fall for Dean Winchester, you idiot!
“So, who’s the hunter we’re helping out? Maybe I know him.” Dean looked over to you and zipped up his bag, tossing it by the door.
“You know Mitch Miller?” You neatly folded your pajamas and placed them in your duffel.
Dean thought for a moment before answering. “The name sounds kind of familiar, but I can’t place him. Maybe I’ll remember him once I see him. Any details on what’s going on?” He walked over and sat on the couch where you were packing.
“Nothing so far, he just said he couldn’t figure out what he was dealing with and would fill me in on the rest when we got there.” You could feel Dean’s eyes on you and met his gaze, feeling your stomach flutter when he smiled softly at you. As you finished gathering your things and pulled your bag over your shoulder, you felt a tug that jerked you backwards. Dean had pulled your bag from your grasp, leaving you dangerously close to him.
“Why don’t you let me take your bag to the car?” Dean insisted, just inches away from you.
“You don’t need to.”
“I want to.” He spoke gently as his eyes traced your lips then looked up to meet your gaze. Were you really about to do something as stupid as kissing the man that people had warned you about? Both of you stood silent for a moment before Dean slowly leaned down, almost touching his lips to yours before the bathroom door slammed open and pulled you two apart.
“Let’s get out of here, there were four spiders in the shower.” Sam complained as he shook his hair dry and tossed his bag by the door with Dean’s. “You riding with us or driving, Y/N?”
“Driving, I guess.” You looked at Dean with a longing glance which he returned. Maybe it was for the best that you don’t explore that avenue of a relationship with this well-known womanizer, but all you could think about was kissing him.
The drive was short, and you made good time following Dean in the impala. The man had a lead foot. Mitch had asked you to meet him at his motel room, and you pulled into the parking lot in the early afternoon.
“So, some guy wants you to meet him at his motel room, and that doesn’t sound sketchy to you?” Dean questioned as you stepped out of your car.
“Oh, no, I’m actually meeting my bookie here. You guys want to wait in the car for like five minutes?” You rolled your eyes. The frown on Dean’s face was quickly followed by an amused smirk. He appreciated when a girl was fluent in sarcasm.
“You know what I mean. I don’t trust this guy yet.”
“Do you trust me?”
Dean seemed surprised by your question but was quick to answer. “Yes.”
“Then come on.” You nodded towards the motel and Dean followed, draping his arm around your shoulder.
The two of you followed Sam to room seventeen and knocked. Mitch answered with a smile. “Y/N!” He looked at the two brothers standing behind you and his smile turned into a questioning frown.
“Hey, Mitch. Do you know Sam and Dean Winchester?” You pointed to the boys.
“I’ve heard of them. Never met before though.” Mitch hesitated for a moment as he saw Dean’s hand placed protectively on your shoulder. “Come on in.” He stepped aside and you entered first, followed closely by Dean and then Sam.
“So, what do you have?” You asked as you looked at the newspaper clippings and maps that were hung on the wall.
“Three women dead. Each of them drowned in their sleep, nowhere near any kind of water.”
“What the hell?” Sam muttered as he read through a case file.
“Witch?” You and Dean say at the same time, exchanging a proud glance.
“I didn’t find any kind of hex bags.” Mitch countered.
“Not all witches use hex bags.” Dean argued, glaring at Mitch. You couldn’t help but notice the crusty looks exchanged between the two.
“Get this,” Sam spread some pictures out on the bed, “all the victims have the same pictures in their house.” He pointed out identical pictures in the background of each crime scene, just hidden enough that the average eye wouldn’t find it.
“Good catch. Let’s figure out who that is and go from there.” You suggested and the three boys nodded.
“I’ll hit the internet.” Sam declared as he sat down at the desk and pulled out his laptop.
“We’ll go back to the crime scenes one more time. See if we can get a closer look at those pictures?” Dean suggested. Mitch nodded and they headed for the door. Dean paused when he saw you hesitate. “You coming, Y/N?”
“Nah, I’ll stay behind and help Sam. We don’t need three of us looking at a picture.” Dean sent a betrayed look your way when he realized he would be partnered up with Mitch. You sent a snarky smirk back his way. Mitch huffed as he opened the door and stomped out.
“Play nice.” You instructed Dean with a wink.
“You owe me one!” He pointed in your direction sternly, but the light in his eyes told you he was just playing around.
You pulled out your laptop and sat across from Sam.
“You know, you could have gone with Dean.” Sam looked up from his screen.
“I know, but what do you think Dean would have hated more? Staying behind and helping you with research or going out alone with Mitch? Those two have some kind of seriously misplaced testosterone battle going on.”
Sam chuckled and answered with confidence, “Definitely going with Mitch.”
“That’s what I thought! He was getting too comfortable around me anyway. I gotta keep him on his toes somehow.” You shrugged and sent a playful grin Sam’s way. He gave you an approving nod, knowing full well that he had found an ally to mess with Dean when the opportunity presented itself.
An hour had gone by when you found something that sparked your interest.
“Sam, check this out.” He leaned back in his chair, listening intently as you read. “Known throughout Africa and the African Atlantic, Mami Wata embodies the spirit of water. Much like the ocean, she can be volatile and dangerous. She brings good financial fortune and also governs water sprites.” You scrolled down the page and stopped on a picture that looked identical to the ones from the crime scenes. You spun your computer around to show Sam.
“Good work, Y/N. That’s gotta be record time. Sounds like it could be our mystery monster. I’ll call Dean and let him know.”
You pulled out your phone and called Bobby for any info he might have on how to kill the thing. He told you he’d do some looking. You and Sam continued your research for a few more hours when the grumble of his stomach interrupted your reading.
“Come on,” you shut your computer, “let’s go find some food. We can take our stuff with us and keep looking but I have to get out of this creepy motel room.” You looked around, referring to the wallpaper that you were sure had been in at least a few horror movies.
“Agreed. I’m starving.”
There was a cute mom and pop restaurant down the street from the motel where you and Sam decided to set up shop. You sent Dean a quick text letting him know to meet you there when they were done. You ordered drinks and some appetizers to hold you over until the other two joined you. You were flipping through a book about African culture that you checked out of the library and Sam was still online, both of you searching for a way to kill this water spirit.
“Hey, Y/N,” Sam began, “I just wanna say thanks.” You shot him a confused look. “We’ve have had a rough time lately between Dad dying and Dean going to hell and coming back. It’s really taken a toll on him, but he’s been different since we met you. The past few days, he’s the almost fun Dean that he used to be.” He shut his computer and sat it on the bench next to him. “I know you’ve probably heard stories about him being a lady’s man and normally I’d be telling girls to run for the hills, but he’s smitten with you. I can see it in the way he looks at you and talks about you.” The waitress brought the drinks and onion rings over and Sam paused.
“Sam Winchester, are you being a wing man for your brother?” You joked as you took a bite.
“I guess I am. Which I never thought I would ever do.” Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. “But I mean it when I say that he’s different with you. It might take him a little while to admit it, but he’s a better person when you’re around.” Sam took a big drink before adding, “Plus, I think he’s a little scared of you, so I doubt he’d try any kind of funny business.”
You couldn’t help but smile at Sam’s honesty. You should be focused on the case but your mind was on Dean. It was rare that you ever felt so at ease with someone so quickly. Although you had never known what a true home felt like, you imagined the comfort that you felt with him was as close as you’d ever get.
You spent the next while talking with Sam about himself and how he had tried a different path at Stanford. You were genuinely intrigued to know about college. Maybe in a different life you would have gone, and you soaked up every word he told you about a life so foreign to yours. Dean and Mitch arrived soon after. Dean was clearly annoyed and walked a few paces ahead as Mitch babbled on about something. Dean plopped down next to you and put his arm on the back of the booth. You instinctively scooted closer to him.
“How’d it go, boys?” You asked and slid the basket of onion rings closer to them. It was obvious the two hadn’t cleared any of the ridiculous tension between them. Neither answered and Mitch glared at Dean who had a mouthful and was looking out the window.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” Mitch grumbled.
You waited until he was out of sight, then you and Sam both turned to Dean with judgmental faces. He slowly caught on and looked between the two of you, midchew.
“What?” Dean tried to play innocent.
“Why is Mitch so pissed?” Sam interrogated.
“Because he’s a baby? Why the hell would I know?” Dean answered straight. Sam rolled his eyes.
“Well, did you find anything at the crime scenes?” You looked up into his eyes, realizing you missed him more than you should have for him being gone just a few hours. Dean pulled out a coin with a water serpent on it and set it down on the table.
“Found these behind each picture on the wall along with a photograph of the victims.”
“Great, so we know who this thing is after next?” You were happy to catch a break seeing as there was only one person left in the photo who hadn’t been killed. “Maybe we set a trap?”
“We gotta move fast though. Someone has died every night and it’s almost six already.” Sam added.
“We still don’t know why she’s here, either.” Dean interjected as he finished off the appetizers. “Let’s order. I can’t hunt on an empty stomach.” He grabbed the menu and waived the waiter over.
That night, the team had gone over to the next victim’s house on the list. She was clearly scared and easily believed you when you told her what was happening. She explained that she and the other four victims were in water aerobics together and had read online that if you summon her with those weird coins and enslave this Mami Wata, that she would make you rich. So, they did. Idiots. But soon after, the water spirit became angry at being held captive and turned on them. Lucky for you, Bobby came in clutch and had found that stabbing it in the heart with a blade forged with African ore would kill it. Unluckily for you, you had nothing like that and no chance of finding something like it this late at night. So, you would have to try and make do. It was a stupid plan, but the only one you had.
You instructed the woman to lay on her bed like she was going to sleep, while you, Sam, Dean and Mitch hid, waiting for her to show up. You had an arrangement of weapons, hoping something would work. Hours passed, and it was getting late. You felt your eyelids began to droop, but a sudden clang from the bathroom woke you right up. You were in the closet and peaked though the crack to see water overflowing from the tub and into the bedroom, soaking the carpet. You waited a few moments more to see a horrific serpent woman crawling from the bathroom, slowly slithering her way towards her next victim, leaving a trail of slime in her path. You couldn't help but subconsciously pull a disgusted face.
Mitch was the first to jump out from his hiding place just outside the door. Mami Wata quickly tuned her head and held her arm out, throwing him across the room, his body going limp as he surely was knocked unconscious. Sam and Dean were next. Dean shot at the monster while Sam stabbed her with a silver blade. Both taking a toll, but neither doing much damage to her. She stood up tall on her tail and threw Dean up against the wall, holding him by his neck. You sprang into action, using a long blade to chop her head off. Her body stayed writing for a few moments, but eventually stopped.
Dean rubbed his neck and caught his breath. “How’d you know that would work?”
You gave an innocent shrug. “I didn’t. Decapitation is usually a cure all.”
“We should burn the body just to be safe, Sam added.” You and Dean nodded in agreement.
You pulled Mitch from his unconscious state and after the woman you had saved thanked you profusely, you left with the body in your trunk, finding a remote location to burn it. It was almost eight in the morning by the time you were finished and were pulling into town, heading back to the motel. You went and got a room for you, Sam and Dean and all four of you went to go sleep off the post-hunt exhaustion.
Sam was the first to pass out. He hadn’t gotten very dirty and was sprawled out diagonally, face down across the mattress. You and Dean both had blood stains and slime on your clothes. He let you use the shower first, then took a quick one when you were done. You pulled on a comfortable t-shirt and some shorts, then began to set up your bed on the couch. Dean grabbed your hand and stopped you from laying a blanket down.
“Nope, you need to actually sleep. Come on.” He pulled the blanket from the couch, wrapped it around you and led you over to the bed. “You can share with me.”
“Are you asking me to sleep with you?” You asked in an accusing tone of voice and kept a serious face before slowly letting it turn to a small laugh. Dean turned bright red and swallowed hard. It was fun to mess with him. You laid next to him and he pulled you close.
“Thanks for saving me. Again.” Dean whispered in your ear. You turned to face him.
“I’m not going to let some creepy ass mermaid kill you. That’s not a very ‘blaze-of-glory’ way to go out.”
“What makes you think that’s how I want to go out?”
“Sam told me when we were talking earlier.”
Dean smiled and kissed you on the forehead. “Get some sleep, Y/N/N.”
Little did you know, Dean wasn’t planning on going out in a blaze of glory at all anymore. He was planning on retiring with you by his side, holding you close just like he was now. You drifted off to sleep to the sound of Dean’s steady breathing. For the first time since you could remember, you slept peacefully without waking up in a cold sweat from nightmares. You knew you had someone there to protect you. Someone who you fully trusted, and someone who made you feel like you belonged.
Chapter 9
Tags:
@panicking-outside-the-disco
@vicmc624
#dean winchester#dean x you#dean x reader#dean x y/n#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fanfiction#supernatural#spn#spn fic#destiel
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angsty third life prompt: grian missing his wings. bonus for impulse or tango interaction.
It actually turned out less angsty than I intended... Might revisit this one later. I was also inspired by this one piece of fanart I saw but can't find now, where Grian doesn't just have elytra he has actual parrot wings, but they’d been ripped off. It was beautiful and I am v sad that it has vanished. lol. Anyway, enjoy. ;P
_______
He really doesn’t like being stuck on the ground.
Grian shades his eyes with one hand, gripping his new iron sword in the other, and surveys the desert beneath Monopoly Mountain. The sun is just rising, but the heat rising off the golden sands is already enough to sting his skin and a bead of sweat rolls down his neck. Heat waves shimmer deceptively, nearly making him miss the real form moving across the dunes.
He glances over his shoulder at Scar, but the red-lifer is currently distracted doing… something with the storage chests. There’s no way it’s organizing, but probably best not to ask; instead he takes the chance to slip away.
Sliding down the side of a massive dune, he skids to a stop just as Impulse reaches the foot of the mountain.
“Halt, who goes there?” Grian says, brushing sand off his jeans and holding up one hand to stop Impulse. “Friend or foe!”
“Friend, friend – always a friend.” Impulse grins, and raises both empty hands. “Just came to chat with Scar.”
Grian rolls his eyes. “You’ll leave with less gear than you came,” he warns. “Scar’s been scamming people out of their stuff all day.”
With a gesture, Impulse dismisses his concern. “I heard, I heard… which is why I brought extra.” He pulls a pair of enchanted iron shoes out of his rucksack and waves them temptingly.
That gets a chuckle out of Grian. “Clever.”
Down at the level of the desert the heat is worse than before, and he instinctively twitches his shoulders to fan his wings – but, of course, there’s nothing there. The rough edges of the stumps twitch restlessly under his shirt, and the dull pain he keeps trying to ignore spikes a little.
Impulse, narrowing his eyes, rearranges the strap of his rucksack and jerks his head toward the distant treeline. “You want to… take a walk?”
“You just got here,” Grian says, but he glances up the cliff toward where he left Scar. He could slip away, just for a little bit… “But sure – this place is blazing hot. I almost can’t think in this heat.”
“You’re telling me. Come on, there’s a little pond just over that first hill; we can cool off there.” Impulse turns and starts trudging back towards the distant shadows of the trees..
Grian follows him, his feet sinking into the soft, shifting sand. He hates how it drags him down, hates the way it gets into his shoes and between his toes, as if it’s trying to remind him with every step that he can’t escape it.
“You, ah… you okay there, G?” Impulse’s longer legs have taken him further ahead, but he stops and waits for Grian to catch up. “Looking a little… tired.”
“Just – hating gravity is all.” Grian forces a little laugh and doesn’t stop when he reaches Impulse, continuing on. Ahead of them, the shady forest promises cool relief. “Stupid, I know.”
“Ah.” Deliberately slowing to keep Grian’s pace, Impulse nods. “Yeah, I miss elytra. It’ll be great to get back to Hermitcraft and be able to fly again – I bet it wouldn’t even take two rockets to cross this entire world.”
Grian doesn’t answer, but his wing-stubs flutter again in frustration. He feels so heavy. So earth-bound in this place – this tiny world that ripped his wings from him and dropped him into a killing game he only had a slim chance of surviving.
“Oh… right.” Impulse sounds like he’s answering a question no one asked. “Gosh, Grian, I’m sorry – that was pretty insensitive. But you’ll get your wings back too.”
I hope.
Neither of them say it, but they both think it – and know the other one is thinking the same.
As they finally reach the cover of the trees, and step into its cooling shade, Grian pulls off his shoes and shakes the sand out of them. “Stupid sand,” he growls. “Stuff gets everywhere.”
“You don’t have boots yet?” Impulse raises an eyebrow. “They keep the sand out—”
“No, Impulse,” Grian doesn’t even bother keeping the irritation out of his voice. “I don’t have boots yet. Or armor, or a decent kit, or anything but bread to eat, or even a partner who’s not probably certifiably insane.” He tucks the shoes under his arm, electing to go barefoot on the soft grass, and snaps: “Where’s this pond?”
Impulse doesn’t react to his harsh tone, and the sympathy in his face makes Grian feel like he should apologize. But before he can, Impulse leads him deeper under the oaks to a small, sandy-shored pond. “There,” he says, pointing. “And good idea – think I’ll stick my feet in too.”
They sit down in the shade of a massive oak tree, and Impulse pulls off his own boots, dropping them with a clank into the grass. Stretching, he leans back and lets his now-bare feet fall into the water. “Ahhhh,” he says. “Yep. That’s exactly what I needed.”
Dipping his own toes into the clear water, Grian weaves his fingers into the grass, and gives a sigh.
“Sorry, Impulse,” he says, his voice softer against the distant sounds of birdsong and the wind rustling the leaves overhead. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just… hard to get used to, you know? Being… grounded.”
Impulse reaches over and claps him on the shoulder. “Hey,” he says. “It’s not forever.”
“No, just until I die. Or everyone else does.” For the first time, the realization that there will only be one survivor of this game strikes him fully, and he looks over at Impulse. “Impulse… by this time next week, one or both of us could be dead. We might kill each other.”
Impulse shakes his head. “Nah…” he says, but then falls silent, any further protest dying on his lips. They both know it’s true. As peaceful as this moment is, shared in the cool quiet of the oak grove with their bare feet making ripples in the water, it can’t last.
“Might be worth it,” Grian adds suddenly, forcing his voice to be light. “Cause some chaos, go out in a blaze of glory – just to… you know. Get back.” Back to Hermitcraft. Back to the sky.
“Aw, come on, G. Don’t talk like that – you’ve got a real shot at winning this thing.”
Grian shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe,” he says.
But I’d rather fly than win.
#third life#3rd life smp#3rd life#third life fanfic#grian#impulse#caffeinated animated redstone innovator
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Sunbird -- Jason Todd
Masterlist
Summary: Y/N and Jason are reunited after believing the other was dead.
Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, torture, angst
Pairing: Joker’s!Daughter!reader x Jason Todd
Word Count: 3,000+
A/N: I haven’t written in a while, and it’s my first time writing for Jason Todd and DC as a whole, so we’re just gonna see how this goes. Please let me know what you think! This has aspects from Batman: Under the Red Hood as well as the comics, but doesn’t follow any specific canon. Also, I know Marvel just released a new character named Sun Bird, but we’re ignoring that.
The harsh rub of zip ties against her bloodied wrists, the impossible twist of her arms behind the wooden chair she was sitting in, the harshness of her breathing from screaming and broken ribs, and the split skin from her right cheekbone down to the bottom of her lip did nothing to distract Y/N from the true pain in front of her.
“Stop! Please, please, leave him alone; he hasn’t done anything!” Y/N cried, straining against the ties even harder, ignoring the pull of her dislocated shoulders and the raw rubbing of her wrists. There was another crunch as a crowbar came hurtling down against the boy at her feet, her pleas ignored. The crowbar hit his shoulder blade, blood spraying across the girl’s shoes from the freshly torn skin.
The Joker looked up, his eyes full of familiar mania while he gripped his weapon tightly. “Peaches,” he tsked, straightening up to look down at the beaten girl in the chair, “he’s done everything. He’s the reason I haven’t seen you in two years. He’s the reason ya mother’s locked away. He’s the reason my babygirl isn’t my babygirl anymore.” Joker’s words were dripping with venom, spit flying from his mouth and landing on the two lovers as his anger grew. “The bird and the bat have destroyed my family time and time again. I won’t allow it any longer!”
“Robin didn’t ruin anything, you did!” Y/N fired back just as fiercely, spitting back at the clown before her. “You’re the reason I ran away to Batman and Robin. You’re the reason I never looked back. You’re the reason I hate you,” she snarled, (e/c) eyes filled with rage.
Silence filled the room as the Joker reeled back, hurt and anger wiping his smile clean off. He drew his arm back, bloodied gloves gripping the crowbar tightly, and slammed down. Y/N wasn’t expecting the agony that exploded down her arm and up her face as the crowbar connected with the junction from her shoulder to her neck, nor the scream that hurled from her lungs. Blood splattered across her face, over her chest, down her arm, and onto the boy below, while her chair tipped to the floor due to the force. Robin, known intimately as Jason Todd, yelled out for her, his own blood flying from his mouth. She didn’t yell back for him, her throat too raw from the sudden pain and her body turning cold with shock. The Joker knelt, tilting his head to look Y/N in the eye.
“Now, peaches, that’s no way to talk to your father.”
“Until the day I die, you will never be my father.”
Silence prevailed once more as father and daughter stared one another in the eye; Y/N panting heavily with blood across her face, and the Joker breathing deeply with blood across his hands. Finally, after it became obvious neither was going to back down, the father stood.
“Very well,” he spoke simply, turning his gaze away to look down at his handy-work on Batman’s sidekick. “Usually the bat shows up by now, but considering the lack of importance that two of you apparently hold, I’ve given up hope on our date night.” He began walking away from the battered teens, his hands clasping the crowbar behind his back. It thumped his palm eerily, echoing in the warehouse. “Since both of you refuse to ease your suffering, I’ll leave you be,” he paused, opening the warehouse door and allowing a gust of snowy air to rush in. “If you’re worried about the cold, don’t be. Should the bat not show up soon, it’ll warm up eventually.” There was no laughter, no smile, no looking back as the Joker left with the heavy doors slamming behind him. The wind vanished alongside the Clown Prince of Gotham, but the warehouse was still chilled to the core.
Jason didn’t - couldn’t - speak, his lungs filled with blood and struggling to even breathe. Instead, he tilted his head to look at Y/N, her (h/c) hair sticking to the bloody parts of her face. She was already looking down at him, guilt clear in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she began, ignoring the way Jason shook his head, “I don’t know how he found me. We were so careful, all of us, I made sure of it. I’ll get us out of here, I promise, we’ll figure something out.” Her promise held no guarantee, they both knew that, but she needed to give them hope.
Jason tried to talk, tried telling her that Batman would be here any second and that it wasn’t her fault; but he couldn’t without choking on his own blood. He grunted instead as he rolled onto his stomach, his body protesting in pain while he scrunched up to walk his legs through his arms, returning them to the front of his body instead of the back. He couldn’t get out of his handcuffs and he couldn’t get Y/N out of her zip ties, but he didn’t have time to wallow on that- he had to keep moving. Grabbing onto the side of Y/N’s chair, he used it as leverage to pull himself to his feet, his legs quivering with the strain. He gave the chair another tug, one he knew was gonna put him on his ass, and uprighted the chair so Y/N wasn’t fallen over. As predicted, he collapsed immediately and whimpered in quiet pain as soon as he hit the floor.
Y/N seethed, “Goddamnit, Robin, you’re gonna kill yourself! Just stay still, Batman will be here soon.”
Jason ignored her. It wasn’t his job to wait around for Batman or Nightwing or anyone else to save him; his job was to do the saving. He was Robin, Batman’s partner in justice- he could save himself and the girl he loved without dying. Bracing his forearms against the cement, Jason dragged himself forward, unable to stand again. Y/N continued protesting behind him, trying to break free of her bindings to stop him, but he kept going. He dragged his body across the floor, blood trailing in his wake as he reached the door. Jason had no idea how heavy the door was going to be, but as he reached up and grabbed ahold of the handle, he realized it didn’t matter- the handle didn’t budge. Falling against the door in exhaustion, Jason looked around for another means of escape. As his eyes wandered, a soft beeping caught his attention, forcing him to notice the black multi-wired box with a timer attached near the door.
5
“Robin, what is it?” He looked back at Y/N, his blue eyes conflicted with defeat and terror.
4
They were going to die.
3
He couldn’t save her.
2
“Jason-”
1
—
“Keep your eyes out, Robin. We don’t know how this guy works.” As she spoke through the com connected to her suit, Y/N could practically see Tim’s eyes roll.
“You know, Sunbird, I’d rather keep my eyes firmly within my own skull, thank you,” Tim shot back, causing a bark of laughter from Nightwing across the comms.
Y/N smirked, ready with a retort when Batman’s voice cut through the comms. “Focus, all of you. We’re working with someone who has taken out three drug rings within the last week. Snark won’t get us where we need to be,” he graveled, and the birds settled down.
Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and Sunbird were all gathered at Gotham Harbor to confront the man who had ‘taken care of’ all three of Y/N’s latest missions. He was called the Red Hood, and they had yet to figure out his motive, who he was, or how and why he was intervening in Sunbird’s discreet missions. While she was appreciative of the danger being off the streets, she wasn’t fond of a new, murderous vigilante stepping on her toes. Y/N was perched atop one of the many red shipping containers littering the docks, the breeze pushing in the damp air from the ocean causing her to shiver. Her red and gray suit didn’t do much to keep the cold out, but her unnaturally high body temperature kept her from freezing. Across the dock Y/N could vaguely see Robin on his belly, his fingers tapping in boredom against his cape, while Batman was hidden amongst the shadows further to her right. Nightwing was to her left, balancing on top of a pole to give him a bird’s eye view. But, if you asked her, he was simply showing off. Everyone kept their eyes peeled and ears open for a flash of red metal or anything alerting them of their target.
After a while of nothing, Nightwing began to groan. “How do we know this guy is going to show tonight? He may be killing another bust right now, or, god-forbid, sleeping at the current time of midnight.”
“How do we know he doesn’t have a partner? We may be walking into an ambush, Batman,” Robin pipped up, having moved a few containers over for another perch.
“Ballistics show one gun type with the same bullets, all shot from the same spot. He’s working alone. Gordon sent Sunbird a tip about the trade-off happening here tonight, using the same system that he used for the other tips. The tips that Red Hood ended up busting himself. He found a way onto their link, and he’s shown up the past three times. He’ll be here.” Batman’s voice held no room for arguing, and the birds huffed in silence.
Just as everyone began to get comfortable once more, Robin’s voice yelled through the comms. It was inaudible and short, and by the time Y/N snapped her eyes to his perch, he was gone. She wanted to yell out for him, but she kept silent, not wanting to alert anyone to her position. Instead, she gracefully leapt down from her perch and quickly rolled to the side, hiding in the shadows beside Batman to gain a plan. He held up his hand to her, silently telling her to stay put as he moved toward the container where Robin had been.
“‘Wing,” he spoke gruffly, “follow me.” A blur of black and blue jumped from the sky before disappearing behind the container Batman had just gone to. Y/N listened and watched, waiting for any update on if Robin had been found or signs for what had happened. As the minutes ticked by and silent static graced the comms, she grew worried.
“Batman, Nightwing, what’s happening?” She whispered, her teeth nervously chewing at her bottom lip. They were fine, they had to be, they’re Batman and Nightwing, the original Wonder Duo. There’s no way anything happened-
“I didn’t kill them if that’s what you’re pittering about.”
Instantly, Y/N jerked her elbow back to hit the owner of the unexpected voice. However, when her elbow collided with metal, she cursed; both at the pain and the realization of who it was. She turned around, cradling her bruising elbow while looking up at the man before her. He was unfazed by her attacked, hands tucked comfortably in the pockets of his leather jacket and his head tilted to the side.
“Are they alright?” She questioned, lowering her arm once the pain had subsided. Knowing that Batman and Nightwing had been incapacitated by this man unnerved her.
He scoffed, “They’re fine. The bat and Nightwing are knocked out. They should really look into helmets. I’m sure they sell ones that brood.”
“What, like yours?” He huffed a laugh at her reply, and she could only picture a smirk under the hood. “What about Robin?” she asked, noticing Red Hood stiffen at the mention of the youngest member. A glint from an overhead dock light fell across his helmet, giving him a darker look. Y/N could see his fists clench in his jacket pocket while he paused.
“The replacement is fine. Knocked out like the others,” he finally spat after a moment. Confusion fell across Y/N’s face as she took a step back, trying to work out what he meant. “I was never worried about the cut he gave you scarring your pretty face, I’ll admit. And now that I get to see it up close, I was right to think it’d make you even more badass. Bet the gash on your shoulder is even better. Took a chunk right out of you.”
“Jason.” His name was more of breath rather than a word as it left her mouth, disbelief keeping her from reaching out. “It can’t be.”
“Missed you too, Sunbird.” The pet name Jason had given Y/N all those years ago being spoken by him nearly brought her to her knees. “I’m honored that you used your nickname to become a sidekick.”
Disregarding the jab at her occupation, Y/N took a shaky step forward. “Let me see you. Let me know it’s really you.” While the fact of her pet name should’ve been enough proof, she still needed to see him. To see Jason Todd again. “Please,” she whispered in desperation.
He paused for a second before sighing, “Never could say no to you.” Red Hood reached up and clasped at the underside of his helmet, his fingers working until a mechanical hiss filled the air followed by smoke. The helmet was removed and held under his arm while Y/N gasped quietly. “Still handsome, I hope,” he joked, quirking his lips in a toothy smirk.
“Jason,” she breathed once more, finally believing that the man she loved was standing in front of her. His hair was shorter, flat against his forehead from the helmet, and his eyes were hidden behind a domino mask; but it was Jason, there was no denying it now. Unable to restrain herself any longer, Y/N barreled forward, crashing into his chest and causing him to drop his helmet. She wanted to be mad at him for killing people, for not telling her that he was alive, but in that moment she couldn’t feel anger towards him. Jason squeezed her tight, dropping his head to the top of hers, and breathed deeply as Y/N clutched the back of his leather jacket.
“I saw your body- I saw… After the explosion, before Bruce got to us, I got free and felt your heart stop. I watched them bury you. I’ve been to your grave every month,” she rambled, shaking her head against his padded chest. “I’ve never stopped crying for you.”
Jason held her tighter. “I did die. I was dead for six months.”
Y/N looked up sharply at his confession, removing herself from his arms. “You’ve been alive for six years, and I haven’t known?”
He reached out for her, grabbing ahold of her shaking hand. “Sunbird, listen-“
“Jason, I needed you!” She interrupted, her voice pitched with hurt. “I was alone, nobody understood what I was going through. I shouldn’t have lived, but I did, and I hated myself for it every day. Bruce hated me for it; I was the reason his son was dead. It should’ve been me,” she croaked as her voice broke at the end, tears slipping down her cheeks while she looked up at Jason.
“No, don’t say that. I thought you were dead. Talia told me you had died! When I came back, I read your obituary. Everyone said that you had died with me, and I believed it because if I had died so did you. I didn’t find out you were alive until two weeks ago,” he explained, running his thumb over her calloused knuckles. “It killed me, twice over, thinking that I had been brought back to life while you were still dead.” Y/N reeled at all the information, her breath hitching in shock.
“The world had to think she was dead. If the Joker found out she had lived, he wouldn’t stop looking for her,” a voice spoke from behind Jason, causing the boy (now a man) to quickly turn around. His body instinctively stepped in front of Y/N’s, arms raised for a fight. But instead of one of his targets holding a gun, it was Batman and Nightwing. Jason stared at both of them, noticing the way they had aged in the past six years. While Y/N had grown from a fifteen-year-old to a twenty-one-year-old, the older vigilantes both seemed aged past their years. A part of Jason wanted to reach out for them as he did Y/N, but he held himself back. He came to Gotham for a purpose, and this wasn’t it.
“So, let me get this straight,” Jason began, ignoring the looks of shock on their faces and refusing them the chance to ask any questions, “the Joker gets to live, but we had to die?”
“It’s not like that,” Nightwing began and took a step in front of Batman before Jason laughed bitterly.
“No, Boy Wonder, that’s exactly what it’s like. Batman’s refusal to kill resulted in the deaths of two innocent lives, while the monster responsible gets to breathe, laugh, and walk freely. He cares more about keeping a good image than your own family,” he spat, continuing to stand in front of Y/N defensively. Batman kept silent as Jason vented, giving Nightwing’s sleeve a slight tug to pull him to the side.
“Jay, come back with us.” Y/N reached her hand out, grabbing onto Jason’s larger one with a soft touch to try and gentle his rage. “We can all sort this out, figure out where to go from here.”
Looking over his shoulder at the girl he presumed lost forever, Jason shook his head. “I can’t, Sunbird. Somebody has to kill Joker, and that somebody is me.”
Y/N gripped his hand tighter, “Don’t, please. I can’t lose you to my father again.”
Batman stepped closer to Jason, holding out his hand. “Listen to her. Come home, Jason. We’ve all missed you,” he pleaded, trying to find any sign of agreement on his son’s face.
Instead, Jason laughed bitterly, sending chills down the following vigilantes’ spines. “I don’t have a home with you anymore, B. This doesn’t end until I have his brains splattered over a crowbar,” Jason sneered, turning away to give Y/N one last look. “When this is over, I’ll find you.” From a normal stance, his words should’ve sounded creepy, but all they did was give Y/N hope.
“Jason-” But before Y/N could grab ahold of the boy she had watched die, Jason slipped from her grasp.
All Writing Taglist (OPEN- also, I know it’s been a while, so if you want removed please message me): @teageowen @mads---world @alex--awesome--22 @hxdesworld @frozenhuntress67 @samanthasmileys @simonsaysyasss @marvelismylifffe @bademliimagnum @wherewecangazeintothestars
#jason todd#jason todd imagine#jason todd imagines#jason todd x reader#red hood#red hood imagine#red hood imagines#red hood x reader#batfamily#angst#dc imagine
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Blood Blooms In The Crystal Glow (Chapter Six)
Cavendish scours the room for more crosses. He finds one tiny one, buried in the ashes in the fireplace. He briefly wonders if it used to belong to one of the vampires.
The chain is still in tact, though. He puts it around his neck, and tucks it into his vest to hopefully avoid damaging it when not using it. The chain isn’t very long, so it sticks out a tiny bit, but Cavendish thinks it’s better that way. He can yank it into view quickly if need be.
He tries to find another, but no luck. Ah well. Dakota can have the large one by the door, when they eventually leave.
When he eventually wakes.
... Cavendish goes back to looking for things. He needs to be busy.
And then finally, after what feels like far too long (but is really less than half an hour), he hears Dakota groan.
He turns and sees Dakota sitting up, hand on his head. “Mmph... did we crash th’ car again?”
Cavendish feels a moment of panic. “We don’t have the time car anymore, remember?”
“... Oh yeah.” Dakota rubs his head. “So why’s my head splitting?”
Cavendish walks closer, making the floorboard creak rather loudly, and Dakota winces. “You were injured fighting the vampires. They tosses you into a wall.”
Dakota pauses rubbing his head, and his hand goes to his neck. “... Oh. Right. That. Wait, but how did we get here, then? How am I not vampire chow?”
Cavendish puffs up slightly with pride. “I rescued you.”
“You- I was on the other end of the room.”
“I ran back in to save you.”
Dakota’s eyes go wide. “You what?”
“Well, I couldn’t possibly leave you there-”
“I told you to run!”
Cavendish frowns. “Why aren’t you happy? You’re alive, for Pete’s sake.”
“But you could have died!”
“But I didn’t!”
“But you could have! What’s the point if we both die?!”
“I cannot believe- you are being terribly ungrateful!”
Dakota stares at Cavendish. “I’m being ungrateful? You almost got yourself killed, you almost threw away all those times I saved you! You’re the one who needs to live, okay?!”
“Well-well I never asked you to save me!”
Dakota stands up. “Yeah, clearly, you don’t care! You do stupid, life-risking stuff all the time, even after you found out about the island!”
“I’m not going to just sit in a boring room my whole life until old age takes me!”
“But you’re always going after dangerous stuff! The aliens, the artifacts, this entire situation is your fault!”
Cavendish steps back, shocked. He’s never seen Dakota so-so heatedly upset before.
“I was trying to get us a promotion!”
“There’s no point to a promotion if you’re dead!”
“You were on board with this-”
“I wasn’t! At all! I told you that it wasn’t a good idea, but you manipulated me into coming anyway!”
“Why are you yelling?! You never yell!”
“Because I’m mad! You never listen to me, and then when something goes wrong, you blame me even if I didn’t do anything, or if I tried to stop it!”
“I do not!”
“You just did!”
“That-” Cavendish holds his finger up to make a point, and then lowers it. “... Alright, you have a point. But that is one instance.”
“How about crashing the time car into that school? You got mad at me for that even though I tried to help you out!”
“Dakota, I don’t know what’s gotten into to make you act like this-”
Dakota laughs harshly, and Cavendish backs away again. Oh dear. They’ve never had a fight this bad, and Dakota is... clearly not handling it well.
“I almost died because you wanted to investigate something dangerous! And when I tried to tell you not to, you made me come with you anyway! Now we might both die, and then what? Then what’s everything been for, if we just end up drained of blood and buried in this creepy forest? That’s not worth a FREAKING PROMOTION, CAVENDISH!”
Cavendish backs away again. He bumps against the side wall of the room, opposite to Dakota. “Okay, Vinne, perhaps we need to calm down, I think your head injury might be making your logic a little faulty-”
Dakota huffs incredulously. “You did it again! You’re always looking down on me! You think I’m stupid, but I’m the only one between the two of us who hasn’t died!”
Cavendish feels a pang of-of some kind of emotional hurt in his chest. “That’s not fair to bring up! I only died because I take risks! I take chances! All you do is eat snacks and try to find the easy way out-”
“BECAUSE THE HARD WAY OUT ALWAYS GETS YOU KILLED!”
Dakota is starting to walk closer as he shouts. Cavendish has no idea what to do. He didn’t even know Dakota was capable of level of anger. Or any feeling, really, unless it’s excitement about the zoo.
“Vinne, we might have let this blow out of proportion-”
“No, no, we haven’t! This is how it’s been for years, and I’ve been patient about it to make you happy, but it’ll never make you happy, will it? Nothing will EVER make you happy, and I’m betting that promotion still won’t make you happy!”
“Of course it will, it’s important, we’ll be recognized as heroes-”
Dakota has gotten so close so fast. He grabs Cavendish by the shoulders.
“YOU! ARE! MORE! IMPORTANT! THAN! A PROMOTION! WHY CAN’T YOU GET IT THROUGH YOUR SKULL?! I BROKE THE LAW HUNDREDS OF TIME FOR YOU, NOT SOME STUPID PROMOTION! STOP RISKING YOUR LIFE!”
Cavendish shouts as Dakota shakes him while yelling. “But-but we deserve better than trash duty and busywork-”
“MAYBE WE BELONG THERE! MAYBE IT’S THE ONLY WAY TO KEEP YOU FROM RUNNING OFF AND DYING! MAYBE YOU SHOULD GIVE UP AND JUST BE HAPPY WITH WHAT WE’VE GOT!”
Cavendish is about to retort, but as he opens his mouth he falls silent. His eyes widen in horror, and his blood runs cold in his veins.
Dakota’s sunglasses have slipped down his nose. Cavendish can see his eyes.
Dakota’s red eyes.
He stares, horror and denial and sorrow and fear all running through him at once.
Dakota is snarling. But there’s no fangs, at least, no fangs, maybe iit’s a trick of the light, maybe it’s-
Cavendish glances at Dakota’s neck.
On one side, there’s a normal cut. Long, thin, barely bleeding.
On the other...
...
Two pinpricks. He hadn’t noticed them earlier, he was so panicked and busy-
“Dakota, unhand me,” Cavendish says weakly.
“Why? So you can ignore the problems?” Dakota hisses, and his eyes are red, red as blood-
“Dakota, you-you’re going to hurt me-”
Dakota’s eyes widen now, shocked, but then infuriated.
“Why would you say that?”
“Your eyes-”
“Why would you say that?!”
“Dakota-!”
“All I ever do is keep you from getting hurt! My whole life is making sure you are not actively dying! So WHY-”
Dakota- if it still is Dakota, somehow- thumps Cavendish against the wall. Not so hard it hurts, but it makes Cavendish shout fearfully.
“WOULD-’
Thump.
“YOU-”
Thump.
“SAY THAT!”
Thump.
The cross around Cavendish’s neck is jostled out of his vest, now in full view.
Dakota reels back, eyes wide and terrified, and Cavendish wastes no time. He dives for the cross by the door, putting it between himself and his partner.
Dakota stands still for a second, panting, eyes still red.
And then after a moment, the red fades. Dakota’s terror turns to confusion.
And then horror.
He tucks his hands under his. “What just- what just happened?” he croaks.
Cavendish stays by the cross, eyes fixed on Dakota. He’s keeping himself tucked up, sitting on the floor, like the cross is a shield he needs to take cover under.
Dakota looks at Cavendish, crying a little. “I-I didn’t mean that, Cav. I really didn’t mean it, I-I don’t know what came over me. I like how ambitious you are, I do, it can just be a little frustrating sometimes. I didn’t...”
“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened, I’m sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Cavendish rubs the back of his head. It’s a little sore, but nothing that will last.
But Dakota doesn’t know that, of course. “I- oh man, I didn’t- here, let me help you up-”
He reaches for Cavendish, and his hand brushes the cross.
He jerks it back, hissing in pain and rubbing his hand.
But, Cavendish notes, still no fangs.
Dakota stops holding his own hand, and terrified realization begins to dawn on his face.
He looks down, and shakes his head.
He reaches to help Cavendish up again, and again his hand brushes against the cross-
He yanks it back just like before, and this time Cavendish sees a little red mark. Not quite like a burn, but still a mark.
Dakota looks at his hand. Looks at the mark.
Both of his hands start to shake.
“Cav? What’s-what’s happening to me?”
Cavendish swallows. “Dakota...”
“I-I think you were bitten.”
#milo murphy's law#vinne dakota#balthazar cavendish#vampires#blood mention#fighting tw#minor injury tw#fanfic#my attempts at fanfic#Proofreading? Don't know her
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It came in 3 unassuming moments in his life. If asked, Pro hero Ground Zero will deny the possibility of a guardian angel until his dying breath, but the 3 letters he so carefully stored away in a shoebox inside his cabinet beg to differ.
The first letter he received was way back in middle school. It came the morning their homeroom teacher was due to discuss their selection for high school choices. Katsuki woke up as usual, had breakfast with his dad and his usual screaming match with his mom. After his bath, he went upstairs to prepare for the day. There, sitting unassuming in his desk, was a letter addressed to him. A girl did give him a letter yesterday. Probably another confession letter, he thought smugly, but then he remembered that he exploded that thing yesterday, causing the girl to cry and run away from him. Curiosity now piqued, he opens the letter and on it were written the words "Don't be an ass. Don't let them tell him that he can't make it."
"The fuck!?" was Katsuki's first thought, but he was quickly taken out of it when his mom yelled for him to hurry up, otherwise he will be late. Tossing the letter inside his drawer, he quickly gets himself ready for school. "That shit can wait" he mutters to himself.
In school and to no one's surprise, Izuku raises his hand and says he plans on applying to UA as well. Immediately, his classmates start snickering and makes fun of the "quirkless wonder." Katsuki used to bully Izuku in the past, and still does on occasion, but him taunting Izuku has since lost it's appeal. He doesn't start them anymore, but when prompted, he always gives out a little insult here and there.
Izuku stammers and nearly shakes, but he doesn't back down even when his homeroom teacher tells him to select a more "realistic" school of choice. It was then that Katsuki remembered the mysterious letter he received that morning. "Don't be an ass" the words kept repeating itself in his head.
-- "atsuki, what do you think!?" One of his classmates bumps his shoulder, likely trying to get him to make fun of Izuku. Izuku, who was crying silently but hasn't made a move to concede his dream of going to U.A. Izuku, who used to be his childhood bestfriend. Izuku, who was since diagnosed quirkless and has since been the subject of ridicule at his school.
In a strange mix of pity and reluctant awe, Katsuki opened his mouth and said "Tsk, leave the loser alone. If he wants to get killed that badly, then let him apply for U.A. As if he'll get in anyway." Izuku looks at him slackjawed, but as an impromptu leader within the classroom, all of his classmates decide to drop the subject.
After school, Katsuki goes straight home and takes a nap. When dinner time came, his mom casually mentions that she and her friend, Midoriya Inko will meet tomorrow night for some spa date. Katsuki just dismisses his mom's rant, but then Mitsuki casually says " Oi brat, Izu-chan called too, says he wants to say thank you. I didn't wake you up cause I know you'll be pissy. The hell did you do?"
"I didn't do shit, old hag! He said thank you to me, why are you assuming I did something wrong!?"
"Because you're you" is his mom's retort. After dinner, Katsuki locks himself in his room and thought back on Izuku's phone call, getting a weird sense of accomplishment all the while.
The second letter came during his 2nd year as a high school student. Katsuki and Izuku both got into U.A. It was a surprise to everyone when Izuku somehow passed the entrance exam. Still quirkless, Izuku did poorly on the physical part of the exam, but aced the written part, barely scraping enough points to get into the hero support courses. Katsuki and Izuku have since developed a tentative sort of understanding regarding their "friendship." If asked, yes they knew each other, but other than that, they never sought each other out. It was a weird thing, being apathetic to the existance of your once childhood bestfriend, but Katsuki and Izuku make it work. Even though Katsuki hears Izuku's name in passing, he never seeks out the nerd.
At U.A., Izuku's penchant for anything hero-related was considered endearing and not a total nerd-alert, so much so that Izuku has grown comfortable in his own skin. Before long, he started having friends of his own. Izuku has long since accepted the fact that he has no quirk, but still wants to do work in the pro hero circuit, so he decided to enroll in the hero support program at U.A.
During their second year, Katsuki's homeroom teacher mentioned that in preparation for their future pro hero careers, they need to get acquinted with other works related to their chosen field, which means that tomorrow, they will be working with the hero support students to work on possible support items they can use.
Katsuki trudges to his room at Heights Alliance and decides to do his homework before hitting the gym. There, stuck between his math and hero history notebooks, was a letter with his name on it. Immediately remembering the note he got in middle school, Katsuki hurriedly opens the letter and reads it. It was a lot longer than the first, with notes on always being careful and not being complacent about his own goals. What caught his attention though, was the footnote. Written in red ink were the words "it's okay to be confused at times. You're still young, so you got time to figure it out."
Katsuki hurriedly calls his homeroom teacher and asks permission to leave the dorm and go home for the weekend. Aizawa doesn't see any harm in it, and quickly agrees (if only to get Katsuki off the phone).
Morning comes and Katsuki is bored out of his skull. When Aizawa-sensei faced the class and started introducing the support course students, Katsuki was casually listening but felt himself bummed when Izuku wasn't with the class. Perhaps he was doing this shit with class 2-B, Katsuki wasn't sure. "Well, I can just make fun of Deku's scrawny little ass next time", Katsuki thinks. Aizawa then starts assigning their class with their support course partners, when a mop of hair pops inside their classroom and asks if this is the 2-A class. Katsuki looks up just in time to see Aizawa use his capture weapon to shush the mumbling support course student who was spouting excuses as to why he was late. Aizawa then releases his capture weapon and loudly exclaims "and just for that, you will be assigned to my problem child. Row 4 aisle 3, you'll be working with Bakugou Katsuki."
This is it, Katsuki thought to himself. He's screwed. As Aizawa lowers his capture weapon, Katsuki is immediately assaulted by Izuku's blushing face, likely embarrased from being called out by a pro hero for his clumsiness. What he was not prepared for, was the sight of his childhood friend. No longer a scrawny kid, Izuku has hit a growth spurt and has since learned to do basic toning exercises by the looks of it. Somehow, he's also developed a sense of style cause his hair is no longer an unruly mess of green hair, but it was shaved a bit at the edges and is parted, accentuating his dimples and the freckles on his cheeks.
Izuku hesitantly walks up to him and gives him a tentative smile. "H..hi Kacchan" Izuku stammers. Katsuki was not prepared for Izuku's smile. Not wanting to show his internal freakout, Katsuki says "you got tall, but I'm still taller, nerd" and then Izuku full on laughs at him. It was then that Katsuki realized that Izuku's laugh maybe has a nice ring to it. It was literal years since he heard that laugh, and he was not assaulted with good childhood memories. Nope, not at all.
The thing was, Katsuki has since come to terms with his sexuality. Sure, he dated men and women before, but he somehow leaned more on the masculine side when choosing his dates, and he is starting to realize that his once scrawny childhood bestfriend's smile makes him feel prickly but in a good kind of way.
Katsuki was brought out of his musings when Aizawa began to drone off on what they should do for the next hour of class before zipping himself up in his sleeping bag. Izuku then picks up Aizawa's queue and starts asking Katsuki questions about his quirk. It was then that Katsuki started to notice the little things, like how Izuku's drawings and note taking have gotten more meticulous over time. How his line of questioning about the intricacies of his quirk were more profound. No longer was Izuku always rambling about how cool and powerful his quirk is, he's now able to spout information on how he thinks Katsuki's present hero costume can be altered, so that he can get rid of his bulky gauntlets while still maintaining the same level of firepower he always had. Katsuki was left with nothing, but to answer the questions thrown his way. Before he knew it, the one hour mark was up, and Aizawa-sensei was emerging from his sleeping bag on the floor.
"Uhm, thanks for not exploding me there Kacchan" Izuku rambles. Wide-eyed at how the (not) nerd looks, Katsuki just grunts and says "whatever." Izuku takes it as some sort of sign and just smiles and says "So I'll need your number so we can meet up next week." That got Katsuki's mind reeling and immediately tries to think of reasons why Izuku of all people will ask for his number. He's taken out of his internal monologue when Izuku says "Oh wait, it's probably better if I email you using your school email handle, atleast I can send you progress reports on your costume upgrades. Well, I'll talk to you next week. See ya!"
With that, Izuku and his entire class all bow their heads and Aizawa sheperds them outside the classroom, probably to talk to them for a bit.
After class ends, Katsuki decides to forgo his training and holes up in his dorm room, just staring at the anonymous letter in his grasp. He's kinda screwed. He knows, but he grins despite himself. He's looking forward to the weekend, when he can keep the second letter he received together with the first.
The third letter came that morning. Fast forward 7 years, with lots of problems, misunderstandings, and a whole lot of crying (on Izuku's part, Katsuki swears), he and Izuku have managed to repair their ruined friendship and has since learned to exist together in the same room and even work together on occasion. Katsuki graduated as one of the Big 3 at U.A. and Izuku was scouted by a support company during his third year internship, and has since been working with a reputable support item company right after graduation.
Katsuki has come to terms with the idea that yes, his longing for his childhood bestfriend was not as platonic as he used to think (I'm just making up for lost time), but rather because he may or may not have developed romantic feelings for the (not) nerd. After finding out from class 3-A that Katsuki was bi, Izuku has been smiling at him more, and has even invited him out several times, always in the guise of "Kacchan, I want to discuss some possible costume upgrades, are you free?" And if they just so happen to meet up at some chic coffee shop or a cute cake shop, then it is what it is.
7 years into their tentative "friendship", Katsuki was hit with the realization that he really likes Izuku, and wants to ask him to be his boyfriend. So last week, he casually invited Izuku to their favorite izakaya that's situated in between his hero agency and Izuku's company. After arriving at his apartment to prepare for his "not date", he notices a letter in his mailbox. Seeing the same envelope and lettering, he quickly runs inside his room and opens his cabinet. Underneath his spare boots, he takes out the shoebox containing the first 2 letters he got. All the same envelope, same handwriting, and Katsuki has yet to figure out who sends these to him. Not wanting to jinx it, Katsuki sits on his bed and opens the new letter. The only words written inside was today's date, the restaurant he was supposed to meet Izuku in, and the words "Go to the other place" in bold black letters. Katsuki snickers and calls Izuku and tells him to meet him at that restaurant that serves Katsudon instead.
Later that night, while Izuku snuggles with Katsuki on his couch, Izuku jumps up and says "Oh yeah Kacchan, I forgot to tell you, but that izakaya we were supposed to go to got attacked by a villain earlier! Good thing Red Riot and Uravity were on patrol so they got everything under control! Can we drop by tomorrow? Check things out" Katsuki just snuggles into Izuku more. "Sure nerd, whatever you want."
-- end
PS: Now if only I can work out some details as to who is Katsuki's mysterious letter sender. A Katsuki from an alternate universe? Katsuki from the future sending his past self some dating tips? I'll leave it to your imagination 💚🧡
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the partners, chapter eight - Steve x Reader
chapter eight - what difference does it make?
series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]
chapter summary: A blow-out with Steve leads to confessions, despite getting your ass kicked.
warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of blood, punching, etc!
word count: 3.3k
a/n: here’s the Spotify playlist that goes with the series, and you can catch up here. this is THE CHAPTER, folks. hope you enjoy!
===
Steve realizes two things at once.
1. He’s really pissed at you.
2. He’s in love with you.
He lets himself focus on the “in love with you” revelation for a split second and pulls you into a tight hug, which is nice for a moment. For a second you think maybe he has repented his ways, but then he pulls back and pushes you.
“What are you doing here?” he hisses.
“I’m saving your ass!” you say, shoving him back. “What’s it look like I’m doing, shopping?”
“You can’t be here!” he says. You can nearly make out his twisted face in the darkness. “They’re going to –“
And then a third revelation hits him – this was the plan all along. This is what they meant by hurting him in another way. They’re going to kill you.
Steve hoists you up off the floor then, shoving you towards the door. “Please, I – I need you to go.”
“Steve, leaving without you isn’t an option,” you seethe. “I didn’t just have a bunch of 14 year-olds and Robin help me break into a Russian base for you to tell me to get lost!”
He gasps. “You got the kids involved in this?!”
“Yeah – by the way, thanks for keeping that really helpful secret from me!”
He shakes his head, stressed being an understatement. “I’ve got this!” He runs a hand through his hair, heart hammering in his chest.
“You’ve got this?! By – by sitting here and twiddling your thumbs?” You shove a finger into his chest – well, what you assume is his chest. “I’m the knight and you’re the damsel, princess.”
His hand flies up to his chest in shock. “I am not a damsel –“
“You are, and you’re coming with me –“
“I’m not leaving!”
You pause, incredulous. Tears pricking in your eyes, you begin to rant. “You were my best friend, Steve. I was there for you…. We used to have fun together, remember? I bought you a blueberry danish and coffee every Monday morning. Every Monday morning, I went out of my way to make you happy.” You laugh sadly. “And then I try to help you, and you push me away? Why? What did I do to you? What did I do to you to make you prefer dying in a Russian fortress over coming with me?”
Steve’s silent.
“I just broke into this place to save your life. I risked mine for yours. I stood up for you and got fired for it – oh, and you never mentioned Carol would tell on me! I risked my life for you tonight and you don’t even thank me, you just push me away?” You laugh sadly again. “You’re an asshole.”
Steve feels tears well in his own eyes, but he blinks them away. He grabs your shoulders. “You need to go. Now.”
You scoff and shove him off of you. “To think! To think I ever loved you, Princess Harrington, Queen of –“
Steve blinks. “You – you love me?”
You open and close your mouth. You weren’t supposed to say that.
You’re about to give him a response when the lights flip on and the door opens. You and Steve turn quickly, staring at the guards standing in the doorway. Everyone freezes for a moment before you weakly ask, “Can we just have one more minute?”
The guards seize you quickly, grabbing you by the arms as you kick and writhe in their grasp. Steve tries to lunge for them, but he’s grabbed too, a man on each side. They pull you both to opposite sides of the room.
“Let go of her!” Steve shouts, twisting in their grip.
“Shut up!” you hiss. You don’t need him acting like he gives a shit now.
The guards start to pat you down for weapons and find your walkie, tossing it onto the floor. They grab the key card and dispose of it, too. Your gun is taken from you. One guard feels the knife on your thigh and his hand quickly reaches down your pants, making you gasp, and he pulls the blade out quickly.
“Don’t touch her!” Steve yells.
“Oh, like you haven’t done this before!” you retort.
Edwards comes into the room now, and you can’t help but to laugh. It all makes sense now - and Steve was right.
“Hey, asshole,” you say towards him.
Steve is going crazy. He feels like he’s drowning in the adrenaline and anxiety. It’s like he’s been kicked in the stomach, and you’re going to die before he can even tell you he loves you back.
Edwards grabs your chin and jerks it towards him. You narrow your eyes.
“How did you get in?” he asks.
You respond by spitting in his face. You knew there’d be repercussions, but it doesn’t make the pain of a guard’s fist flying into your ribs hurt any less. You can’t breathe for a second, hyperfixated on the pain, adrenaline rushing into your veins. You bend but snap back up, despite your body’s pleas to recoil. You couldn’t go down that easy.
“We have guards crawling all over this place. How. Did. You. Get. In?”
“You hired some really shitty guards,” you respond, and this time a fist makes contact with your jaw. You cry out and shut your eyes. Your heart beats in your ears and you suck in a sharp breath, whispering, “That hurt.”
“Now I know why you didn’t date her, Harrington,” Edwards says, amused. “She’s got quite a mouth on her.”
“Men seem to like that, don’t you know?” you say hoarsely.
“You don’t have to do this,” Steve says, voice cracking. “You can hurt me instead, please, just –“
“Steve,” you snap, frankly enraged that he’s trying to bargain for your safety after being a complete dick to you.
Another fist flies into you, this time hitting your cheekbone. Your head snaps to the side and your vision goes black for a moment before coming back. Your neck burns and your head aches, and before you can recover, you’re hit again, same place. Then a kick comes to your shin and your leg gives out from under you. The guards still hold you up, though, and you see a fist recoil. You moan out, “Oh, not my stomach, man!” but of course, you’re hit in the stomach, and you groan, breath knocked out of you yet again. You can start to taste blood in your mouth, metallic and sharp, and you can feel your pulse in every part of you. Your mind zones out, too focused on the pain, and you squeeze your eyes shut to stop yourself from crying.
Fists continue to rain down on you, mainly landing in your torso, and Steve cries, fighting even harder to get out of the hold he’s in.
“Please, stop!” he pleads. “You’re killing her!”
Your head pounds and you feel dizzy. You open your eyes to tunnel vision, focusing on one specific tile on the floor. You swear you can see every single imperfection in it, every crack and nook and discoloration. You’re in an extraordinary amount of pain. Every breath in feels like a kick and your stomach reels. You don’t even realize that you’re crying. One more blow to your temple and you finally give in to the pain, vision completely going black, body going limp.
They drop you then and let go of Steve, who runs to you and drops to his knees beside you. His head reels and anger and heartbreak flare in him, but he doesn’t have the energy to fight. All he can focus on is checking your pulse and making sure you didn’t crack your head when it hit the floor.
The guards collect your items and begin to leave, Edwards trailing behind them. He turns in the doorway to look at Steve, shaking his head, a sick smile on his face.
He turns, closes the door, and the room goes black again.
===
At first when you wake up, you don’t feel anything. For a split second, you think maybe you died – but then the pain slams into you, making your breath hitch. Every part of you hurts, and it hurts to breathe. You’re confused, too – when you try to open your eyes, it’s pitch black. With a groan, you try to pull yourself up, but a set of arms pull you back down onto something soft. Panicked, you try to get up again, and, again, you’re pulled back down. You hear something other than the ringing in your ears, a kind of hum, and you reach slowly behind you to figure out who has you.
“Hey, it’s me,” you finally hear. It’s Steve.
“Oh,” you mumble, letting your arm fall down to your side. “What…”
“You’re safe,” he says. “I’m right here.”
“Where are we?” you slur, finally opening your eyes. “Why’s it black?”
“We’re in the same room, they just shut the lights off.” You notice how thick his voice is; he’s been crying.
Apparently, getting the shit beat out of you makes you less angry at him. You feel your heart twitch and you frown. “Hey,” you whisper, trying to sit up again, but this time the pain knocks you back down. “Hey – don’t cry.”
He sniffles. “I’m not.”
You reach up and gently feel his face – it’s wet. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“Jesus.” A painful laugh slips past his lips, and he sniffles again. “You just got the shit beat out of you - and you’re worried about me?”
You make a weak noise in response.
It’s quiet for a while as you try to get your bearings and Steve tries to stop crying. “I get it now,” you finally say. “I get why you were so scared. The kids….” You feel his body tense underneath you, and you sigh. “I’m sorry, Steve. If I knew-“
“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for - for everything. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, I’m sorry I got you into this. I’m sorry I was a shitty friend.”
“You were a great friend,” you say, smiling faintly. “You were just a really shitty crush.”
He doesn’t think now is the time to tell you that he loves you.
“Heard that one before,” he jokes, and you adjust yourself.
“No,” you say. “You don’t have to be funny right now, Steve Harrington. We are probably about to die. You don’t have to crack any jokes.”
Steve’s face falls at the mention of the dire situation you both were in. Being in shit like this all the time desensitized him, he guesses - or maybe whoever was writing his life just had a fucked-up sense of how things should work.
“Did they tell you?” he asks. “About….” He trails off before he finishes.
“Starcourt,” you answer. “They told me what happened last year. I don’t know anything that happened before that.”
Steve wishes it would stay that way.
“Were you right?” you ask, words starting to slur together again.
He furrows his brows, but then gets it. “Yeah. It was Edwards and the Russians. They killed that guy for – for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
You go to shake your head, but it hurts. Instead you hum sadly in response.
“I’m sorry I said what I said last night,” you confess after a few minutes. “It was uncalled for.”
You hear Steve sigh. “No, it wasn’t. I deserved it.”
“Maybe,” you say thoughtfully. “But not like that. Not then. Not that way. And I’m sorry I didn’t bring your bat back in. I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner. I’m sorry for....” Your breath hitches and the feeling of your emotions catching up to you hurts more than the punches. Well, almost. You shake your head gently.
“Sorry for...?”
You take in the deepest breath you can but wince at the pain. Steve’s arms tighten around you and you smile. You settle into him, enjoying the contact. “That’s why.” That’s why you love him.
Steve laughs nervously. “You’re not makin’ any sense, Y/N.”
“I’m sorry for loving you,” you say, just above a whisper. You pause to gather your thoughts. “I didn’t mean to. God, I didn’t mean to. Even Robin told me it was a disaster waiting to happen.”
Steve is silent, so you continue.
“She warned me. She told me it wouldn’t end well. But, Christ... laying in your bed with you, looking up at you....” You laugh sadly. “I thought I was the only girl in the world....” You let out another small laugh, feeling pathetic. “I was being selfish. I won’t do it again.”
A thousand thoughts race through Steve’s head. When did you and Robin talk? Robin was right, but he wants to yell at her anyway. When did you fall in love with him? What do you mean you didn’t mean to?
“You’re not selfish,” was all he could get out. After a moment, he continues. “I was selfish. I thought I had to keep both of my lives separate. I thought I could have you as a friend and as a - someone to help me.” He swallows hard, pushing back tears. “But I was so – so awful - I didn’t think about your feelings. I didn’t think about how it affected you. I was trying to protect you but-“
“Steve,” you whisper. You reach up and touch his face, and he melts into your palm. “Shut up.”
Steve is taken aback at first, but then he starts to laugh. It starts out slow and low, but crescendos quickly into a hearty, stuffy, dorky laugh. He doesn’t know why he’s laughing - the shock of you telling him to shut up, just like you used to, or maybe it’s just the shock of the situation. You start soon after him, and although each jerk of your body hurts and sends your head careening, you can’t stop.
“I missed you,” he breathes finally. He grabs your hand and laces his fingers through it gently, reclaiming the bond of trust and care you both had.
“Missed you too,” you murmur, leaning back into him.
He wishes he could see you now, eyes alight and happy. He wishes he could see your smile and the look you always gave him - that look of patience, of kindness, of love.
Maybe he should tell you here.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he says slowly. He licks his lips and pauses. “Uh….”
“Did I look sexy getting beat up?”
“No jokes allowed,” he says, squeezing your arm gently. He takes a few deep breaths before speaking. “I love you. And it’s not something like I ever felt before. When I’m with you… I feel like I’m home. I feel safe. I feel like I can be myself. And I don’t feel that way around a lot of people. But you – you make me feel like I’m invincible.” He laughs softly. “Things are funny with you, even when they shouldn’t be. You make me feel like I have something to give. Like I’m smart. You believed in me, even when you didn’t know what the hell I was talking about… and no one else would ever even give me that chance.”
You’re quiet, but your heart is drumming in you at a fast pace, making your ribs hurt and head spin.
“You were patient with me. Kind. Even when I didn’t deserve it. You came to save my life after what I did to you.” He sniffles and clears his throat. “I’ll never be able to say sorry enough. Not even if I say it every single day for the rest of my life. And I wish … I know you deserve more than that. I know that. But I love you, Y/N. I always have but I just ….”
You bob your head lightly. “You couldn’t open up to me. I understand, Steve.”
“I love you,” he says, and his voice cracks. “I’m so sorry.”
You run your thumb over his hand as you think. It hurts to think, but you try. You try to find the words to respond, but you figure that maybe a kiss would say enough. You sit up again to face him, but something stabs your lower stomach. Your falter quickly, and Steve’s hands grab your biceps.
“Are you okay?” He asks, rushed and worried.
Your brows furrow and you bring a hand down to your waistband. Then you remember - they didn’t find the other key.
“Shit!” You shout, twisting your body painfully to look at him - well, look towards him. You wince aggressively before saying, “The key!”
“What key?!” He panics. “Are you-“
You gently reach down into your waistband and pull it out - it’s intact.
“This one!” You exclaim, shoving it towards him.
“What –“ his head moves back in disgust – “why is this so warm -“
“It’s a key card. It’ll get us out of here.”
You can practically envision his confusion in the dark. “Where -“
“I stole it earlier and hid it in my waistband and they didn’t find it. Keep up, princess.”
You go to stand but he gently pulls you back down. “Woah, woah, take it easy, will you? Jesus, you probably have ten concussions and a broken rib -“
“What’s your idea? Get killed?”
He narrows his eyes at where he thinks you are. “We have to formulate something before you just hop up and stumble out there.”
“Look,” you begin. You take a second to gather yourself – damn, you’re dizzy. “Doc Owens is coming, but we can’t sit in here and wait for liberation. They’re probably getting ready to kill us right now, execution style.”
“You didn’t need to clarify that, but – yeah, yeah, okay.”
“We need to get the hell out of here. I have this key card and it’ll open the doors for us. We go and find the walkie talkie and some weapons, and we get out!”
“How are you going to walk around here like that? And with me in these clothes?”
You freeze. “Let’s change outfits.”
Steve laughs. “There’s no way you’re fitting –“
“Finish that sentence and you’ll never have a chance with me, got it?”
“I – yeah – sorry –“
“You can wear this uniform and act like you’re a guard and I’m the prisoner. The hat might still be around here somewhere ….”
Steve laughs mirthlessly. “No way this will work.”
“It’s all we have!” you say, and Steve understands. You blindly trusted him for weeks – he can trust you blindly for a few hours. He sighs and starts to strip, throwing his shirt and sweatpants at you.
“Last time I saw you, you were in boxers,” you muse, gripping the sweats.
“Couldn’t let the Russians see my –“
“Steve!”
“I’m kidding! Jesus.”
He helps you pull your uniform off, both of you blushing and in an awkward silence the entire time. It’s difficult to get things off and on in the dark and with a concussion, but you both manage. Steve finds your hat on the floor and he grabs it, sighing as he tucks his hair up into it. If he gets gunned down looking like this, there’s going to be Hell to pay. He helps you up and you stumble into his chest, resting your hands on it. He smiles, happy to feel the contact.
“Are you ready?” you ask.
“Can I say no?” he asks.
“Haven’t you done this like, three times?”
He laughs lightly. “You never get used to it.”
You smile and grab his hand, twisting your fingers together. “Let’s do this.”
===
taglist (join here): @harrington-ofhawkins @wolfish-willow @gothackedalready @m-blasterrr @sourapplebaby @harringtown @sassisaluxury @comedy-witch @peanutem @mochminnie @willowrose99 @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @willowrose99 @andyl394 @ssanjuniperoo @davnwillcome @darth-el
#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#stranger things fic#my fics#the partners#me on quora trying to figure out how it feels to get the shit kicked out of u: ok wig I am learning
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Pre-Verdant Wind Endgame Update
An Update on the ol’ Three Houses Verdant Wind playthrough, since I’ve been neglecting documenting my journey properly for a bit:
• My current placement is Ch.20, so I’m only a few chapters away from the last one. It’s kind of a weird thought because I feel like I just hit the timeskip, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed that this will feel well-paced out. In terms of writing, I’m known for being a bit of a stickler for good flow. It’s why all of my fanfics take so long to update! I have to make sure my flow is perfect.
• The fact that they have been giving background information on characters has been so amazing. Learning that Raphael’s sister’s name was Maya and getting to hear about her has made me irrationally happy.
• Also, just generally, holy shit people sleep on Raphael and Leonie. Raphael often gets shoved to the side, and Leonie is treated like her only trait is liking Jeralt, and for me it all just culminates in the question of “so did you like... not do their support conversations, or...?” Seriously. I think Leonie might be one of my favourites in the game so far, and I adore Raph. He’s so sweet!
• The Flame Emperor reveal for some reason gave me “and I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids” vibes. I liked the venom Cherami Leigh had there as Rhea, too. I think I read from someone that in Japanese, Rhea’s actually super calm in that scene. I don’t think I have a preference towards the anger or the calmness, honestly. I think I just liked how smoothly the emotion came across. Plus, I’m a little biased, I’m fond of Cherami as an actress. I haven’t found a performance from her I haven’t enjoyed yet.
• I was really confused as to why Seteth showed up in my house after Chapter 12ish I think? I wasn’t expecting him to just be there after the paralogue, but I definitely wasn’t unhappy. I do like him! I just never use him, because I recruited Bernadetta and Sylvain, so I kinda have a full roster going...
• I was also confused in the Gronder Field fight because I couldn’t see what people meant about Bernie getting set on fire. Then I remembered Bernie wasn’t on the hill because she was with me. I recruited her. Whatever this proves about me, I don’t know.
• I did end up beating Marianne’s paralogue! It actually wasn’t as hard once I levelled her up a bit and classed her to a Holy Knight. The big thing with her in that paralogue seems to be that she needs a decent amount of power and movement to really get by, so that’s what I’d recommend for anyone else playing it. Using rescue will also probably help you out, but I tried to avoid using Flayn there because it’s kinda easy to kill her.
• Admittedly, I’m not 100% sure how I feel about the support system. In some ways, I think it’s better that not everybody has that forced S-Support. Oftentimes we were either squeezing a love confession out of two characters who were unlikely to have one, or characters with decent potential might get snubbed because their connection was less apparent to the writers (and unfortunately that still does happen in the case of same sex S-supports in 3H). Having the conversations only go to a certain point is helpful, but at the same time, the inherent romantic undertones of several of the A-supports do make things feel strange. If it weren’t for the fact that I know characters can have only one partner as their paired ending, I would think lots of them were in a polycule. Nothing wrong with that as long as everyone’s comfortable, but because I know they can only have one person in their ending, I find it pretty jarring.
• I think it was interesting that they went to do the fights for breaking into Enbarr and then taking down Edelgard back-to-back. I’m glad they did, honestly, because while I don’t usually like to do two fights next to each other unless I’m grinding, it doesn’t mess with the suspension of disbelief. It would be stupid to break into Enbarr and then just run right back to the Monastery.
• I have still not completed the randomized quest from just after the timeskip. You know, the one I was yelling about with the weeds? Still haven’t gotten any weeds. I think I might just have to give up on it. It’s hilarious that my luck is so good that it’s actually bad.
• The fact that Byleth is praised for having more of a personality than Corrin is the biggest slice of bullshit I have heard from this fanbase in a long time. Byleth is literally designed to be a silent protagonist with nothing going on with them – they even came up with a story reason for why Byleth is such a blank sack of meat! In the kindest way possible, I don’t think most people realize that they are implementing whatever personality they want onto Byleth. Personally, I don’t find anything relatable about being stoic, calm, and not inclined to anyone (until plot happens, of course). I’ve always been the overly enthusiastic and caring type, with a tendency towards nervousness. Trying to relate to Byleth was like trying to relate to the experiences of a cactus. While I definitely don’t think Corrin is the strongest of the modern FE avatars – that award goes to Robin – they still had some things I could understand and relate to. If you’re not the type of person who loves the cool, “I fight for my friends” types like Ike, though, you’re likely to have a hard time relating to Byleth. If you can manage that type of character, then you’re more likely to have present them with a personality of their own.
• Actually, while we’re on the topic of Byleth getting praised for things Corrin got dragged for, the fact that Corrin is still cited as the character who receives the most “player pandering” is ridiculous too. Do a lot of characters like Corrin? Yeah! But most of them who do are deeply traumatized in a way that inclines them specifically towards Corrin. The Nohr siblings cling to each other due to their abusive childhood, the Hoshido siblings all in some capacity seem to suffer from abandonment issues (oldest) and/or attachment issues (youngest), and the official foursome of retainers have also had some sort of abandonment struggle in their past (forced separation from parents, murdered loved ones). While the cast of Three Houses needs therapy and is traumatized too, there is no reason why the inclination moves towards Byleth. Bernadetta feels safe around them just because. Edelgard is obsessed with them just because. Marianne learns to feel better about herself just because. Why are there so many exceptions for Byleth, and so many just without explanation? I don’t hate Byleth by any means, but these two things make my opinion of them lower than it would be otherwise. It kinda sucks that my image of Byleth is tainted by the fanbase’s hypocrisy, but I know I can’t have everything.
• The gameplay overall for 3H has been pretty fun! I love the addition of the Demonic Beasts, as annoying as they are to fight. There’s a charm to having some of your stronger units working to take on the soldiers blocking the path, meanwhile your army’s more intermediate strikeforce works to keep them safe by bringing down the beast. Once you get the hang of it, gameplay with the new additions is fun. The only thing I don’t use is Divine Pulse, but that’s because I’m on Casual and usually when I want to rewind, I want to just plain start over. So I use the old “turn off and start again” trick.
• Edelgard’s death scene was actually pretty good. I must confess that I went out of my way to avoid Edelgard in the academy phase, as I knew how hard the game was going to hit me with the “she’s obessed with you” thing and I wanted to see how wonky it would feel if I didn’t speak to her much. I was right that it’s incredibly awkward in terms of writing when you haven’t spent the time with her, but surprisingly, her death scene still holds up. Good voice acting, animation, and music. My only beef with it is something they have done in FE before, and it’s something I wish they’d stop. If a character is dying, you either let them have a few last breaths after their last lines or you kill them mid-sentence. It’s probably just a personal nitpick, but hearing them get their last word out without struggle and then immediately die just makes me aware of how badly the directors wanted the whole line to be in there. I can totally understand it but I find it so troublesome in the grand scheme of things that I just can’t.
• I also like that in the fight against Edelgard, they tried to make it ambiguous who had the key. Immediately as it told me that, I decided it was Petra and ended up being right. I was kind of sad to kill her though, to be honest. I don’t know her well, but she’s probably one of the Eagles I like more.
• The fight against the Death Knight at Fort Merceus ended up being surprisingly pretty easy. In fact, while I paved the way for most of my army, Nader ended up making it to the Death Knight just as Claude did. He did most of the damage – I’m not kidding, the Death Knight was down to 1 HP – and then Claude took care of the rest. It was a weird fight. They said impregnable a lot leading up to it.
• I understand why they kill Dimitri off-screen at the Gronder Field fight, but I was admittedly a bit disappointed. Again, Salli Saffoti does a good job doing Hilda’s voice for it, but I would have liked to see it animated. It was also nice to have that little rapport with Dedue! If only we could have allied with the Lions a bit more. Everyone always says Claude and Edelgard have similar goals; however, it’s their methods that differ. Claude seems to align himself a bit closer to Dimitri, so I’m usually a bit confused by the idea that Edelgard and Claude would work together. I was spoiled on enough to know her background and story, and even so, I think that her methodology is just a bit too violent for his tastes. But that’s just my two cents.
Alright. I think that’s about all I can drain out of my brain from the top of my head. With that, I am off to kill the slithers! We’ll see how this goes. Wish me luck!
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Never Fear (The Winchesters Are Here)
Follow Your Heart
You tried following your heart, once, as a senior in college with straight A’s, a bright future, a career so close you could almost touch it. You were so close to satisfaction. So close to that diploma.
And all at once, that dream ceased to be. And all you could think was my heart must be very very lost.
It all began on a cloudy Friday evening, you were just about to end your shift with the dogs. It was a tangled mess of leashes when you made it back to the animal shelter. Sweat and dog hair covered you, and after a good shower of puppy kisses, you finally untangled yourself from the mass of dogs and return them to their rightful cages.
You refused to meet their sad eyes. You made that mistake, once, and had spent half an hour reassuring each heartbroken dog that they were, indeed, a good boy.
"I’ll see you guys in the morning!" you promised with a wave and a jangle of your dog whistle, and after a reply of barks, you left the building at dusk.
The road was silent, the street lamps weren’t on yet, and the clouds had become heavier in the sky. You had read in the forecast it was going to rain, but hadn't expected this.
The tightness in your chest only continued to build as you made it to the campus. The sun was just barely visible behind the storm clouds that had rolled in. The wind had become cool, and the wind had picked up, sending chills up and down your spine.
Perhaps it was just a combination of paranoia and reasonable worry for a woman walking alone at night to her college dorm, except your blood chilled the moment you unlocked your room and entered.
The hair on your arms and the back of your neck were on end. Your eyes adjusted to the dim light, and you realized that the window was open, and the harsh breeze was whipping past you.
You laughed it off, feeling silly. Though that night you slept with your cover tight against your chest, back against the wall, and your little silver paring knife under your pillow.
The next day, you experienced the same fear. Except, this time, it was sunny out.
What was triggering these feelings of dread? It was like you couldn’t focus anymore. Everything just felt... itchy. That was the only way you could describe it.
With each day that passed, the source of your terror was slowly revealing itself. Little, weird things that wouldn't be so noticeable to an outsider, but as someone who valued cleanliness and order, it might as well have been an elephant in the room.
Things were never as you left them. On Sunday morning you couldn’t find your hairbrush. Monday evening, your bed was mysteriously unkempt, even though you’d recalled making it that morning. Tuesday, the caps of your perfume bottles were all off and littered on the floor of your bathroom. Someone had been in your dorm.
You didn't have a roommate.
You called the police at midnight on Wednesday, and they showed up to your dorm to find you locked in the bathroom. They chalked it up to a wild imagination. You were three floors up, after all. Nobody was breaking in. You were just a stupid, homesick college student.
Right?
Pah, it wasn’t like you were a senior, or anything. Or that you’d ever even cried wolf in the last three years of living alone. But yeah, sure, call it paranoia.
Three weeks later, there was a knock on your front door.
It startled you enough to send you on your ass. You stared at the door from the floor, and it loomed over you like a bad dream.
Your stalker had been your shadow for almost a month at that point. A gaze that burned into the back of your skull, even when there was no one around. You wanted them to keep their distance.
You stood like a whisper, careful not to make any noise as you tiptoed to the peephole of your door. This was it. There would finally be a face to your terror. Someone you could blame.
A weird combination of disappointment and relief washed over you when you saw two FBI agents instead. Your fear of it being your stalker morphed into a fear of the justice system. Had they come to laugh at you just as the police had?
When they knocked a second time, you opened the door.
They showed you their badges and introduced themselves. "Mind if we come in?" Agent Young asked. He had longer, brown hair and kind eyes. You couldn't hold a gaze with him worth your life.
Strangers in your home, even authorities, made your hackles raise. What the helllllll was all you could think as you welcomed them into your tiny dorm as your legs shook.
A million questions raced around your head at once.
"Could we ask you about the death of your professor? Mr.Cleveland?"
Your heart plummeted and all hope died within you. Oh. This was about that whole freak-show. "What about it?" you said. Your feet shifted.
"Well, it’s said that you were there at the time of his death. Is that true?" Agent Scott asked. He was more intimidating—more rough around the edges—but you supposed he was just professional.
"Um. Uh, yeah. It…" the agents were watching you with intrigue, and you looked to the carpet. "It was horrible." And it was. It was bloody and scary, and all your fault because you had just stood there—watched as the professor died right in front of you.
Upon seeing your haunted look, Agent Scott spoke a little gentler. "Did you see what happened?"
"I—yeah… I saw it all. He—he had been helping me with something. An essay. I was flunking and he suggested a one on one." That had only been a week ago. Your grades had suffered as you juggled your classes.
When Mr.Cleveland died... you abandoned college altogether and let the dog whistle collect dust.
"I don’t know… he just…" started dying at your feet. You hadn’t even tried to pick up a phone. You just stood there, and you watched. Your breath picked up. "...he just—"
Agent Young's voice was sympathetic. "He started coughing up blood?"
"Yeah. I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do. I kept thinking about..." the stalker, you thought. I couldn’t stop thinking about the stalker. "I froze and, a-and I just watched—"
"Easy, easy. It’s okay. We just need to know the details," Agent Scott said.
You paused, then. Something didn’t add up. "Wait... why is the FBI interested in a guy that died of a lung disease?" When the agents exchanged glances, you squinted at them, your anxiety briefly replaced with confusion.
"We don't think it was, erm, lung disease," Agent Scott said. "We think he might have been…" He searched for the word a little too long for your liking. "...uh, poisoned."
"Poisoned?" you yelped. "Who could have… oh god, that makes me a suspect, doesn't it?"
"Unfortunately."
Your stomach sank, and that anxiety returned. "You guys have to know I wouldn't—I would never—"
"If we thought it was you, you would be in custody," Agent Scott informed you curtly.
Agent Young frowned at his partner as if to say not helping and then turned back to you. "We just want to know what you saw that day. Anything weird? Strange noises? Smells?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is there anyone you know who would want to kill Mr.Cleveland?"
This was your chance to tell them about your stalker. If there was anyone who could help you, it was the FBI.
Yet you clammed up. "No, not really," you blurted. "Nobody I can think of, honest. Not to be rude, but I have finals tomorrow. Could you… leave?"
Who were you kidding, your grades had dropped so low lately that even finals wouldn't save you. But they didn't know that.
...probably.
They offered you a trained smile that didn’t reach the eyes. "Of course. We'll get out of your hair. If you think of anything else, here's our card." And with that they left the room.
The tightness in your chest did not ease.
///
That night, you had dreams of monsters and of evil people that could poison someone and smile. You dreamed of your stalker, and them laughing as you choked on your own blood.
You woke up in a cold sweat, eyes snapping open to the glow of an agape window. It was shut when you fell asleep, but it was open now, blowing in a breeze that chilled your blood.
Your dog whistle was gone.
It was a fear like no other. Your gut was screaming at you to launch for the phone. You did, automatically dialling the number on the business card that laid discarded on the other end of the room. You had memorized it after hours of staring at the numbers, debating whether or not to call them, then ultimately deciding not to with anxiety gnawing away at you.
They answered it on the second ring.
"Hello?" said a gruff voice. Agent Scott.
"I remembered something," you blurted. "You-you said to call… if I thought of something..." You trailed off when you saw the clock. "Oh god, it's three in the morning. Maybe this can… this can… this can wait…" It couldn't wait.
"No, wait. What is it? Might be important if it's got you up at three in the morning. Unless it's just finals?"
You shook your head and then realized he couldn't hear that. "Not finals. Someone's been stalking me for the past week. I thought… maybe, I was paranoid. I was... constantly told that I was paranoid. But someone was in here while I was asleep. And might… might still be close."
"Okay, you got a knife?"
"A knife?" You squeaked.
"Yeah. A knife. To defend yourself."
"Oh. Right. Right, okay. Uh. Well, uh, I have a paring knife?"
"You have... a paring knife," he repeated.
"Um, yeah? Is that okay? The dorms have rules against big knives. For safety reasons. It's a silver p—"
"Silver? Okay, you know what? That's fine. That's good. Use that. Is it sharp?"
"Sharp enough, I hope." You ran over to your cabinet, pulling out the knife and holding it to your chest. Your ragged breaths were loud in your ears. "Now what?"
"Well," he said, and you could hear an engine starting in the background. "We should be there in a few minutes. Stay on the phone, you hear me?"
"I—should I have called 911? This has never happened to me—"
"You're doing fine. Now, what made you so sure that someone had been in your room?"
"Well, the open window. I live up a few floors. There is no way they could have opened it unless—"
"Unless someone had been in your room. Alright. Just sit tight, okay? Don't hang up."
"O-okay." The agents will be here soon. They will help me. You had the knife and phone held so close to your chest and tight in your fist that your knuckles were white.
I will not die.
Without warning, you choked. It was wet, coppery, and lukewarm on your tongue. You clawed at your neck for air. You fell to your knees. The phone clattered on the wooden floor'; it buzzed with muffled shouting, but you couldn't pick it up, nor could you answer.
Just then, a massive shadow crawled in from your window, and it grunted like an animal. You barely had enough strength to look at him as trails of red spit hung from your face.
The man had claws. The man had claws. The man—the thing, had—for the love of God, inch long claws.
Down the hallway, there was a muffling of running feet. They would be too late. You realized then: you were probably going to die. You were no fair match.
You could feel the monster’s breath on your neck when the beast abruptly fell down like a sack of potatoes, howling and twisting.
Blindly, you stabbed it in the chest with all your strength, twisting the blade and then collapsing once again into a fit of retching.
The agents burst into the room.
But instead of moving to help you, they tore the room apart in search of something. You couldn’t help but sob in despair. Why weren't they helping you?
But when Agent Scott whipped out a little bag from your drawer and lit it on fire, the choking miraculously ceased.
You melted into the floor to catch your breath again. For a minute everyone just breathed. You really appreciated the minor break.
Agent Young helped you up, closely inspecting your heavy, slightly bloody, zoned-out face, and decided you were okay.
You licked your lips, still not processing any part of the last hour. "What," you said, "just happened."
The agents exchanged looks.
You looked at them. Really looked at them. "You're not FBI, are you?"
Agent Scott shrugged at his partner. "You gonna give her the talk, Sammy, or should I?"
///
"Were-witches," you deadpanned. Monsters, hunters, hex bags, and were-witches.
"Yep," Agent Scott—or Dean Winchester, you were now learning—said. "He probably got a whiff of you covered in dog hair or something. You're lucky we got here in time. The pervert was, I kid you not, jellifying human hearts with dark magic. Like, alive. And then he’d make you regurgitate—" He caught the hard look from Agent Young—Sam—and shut up. "But, yeah. Were-witches."
You frowned. "I can accept witches and werewolves, but… were-witches? For real?"
"Trust me, we didn't know they existed either," Sam informed you.
Dean laughed to himself. "Hey Sammy, should we call him a son of a witch or a son of a bi—" His smile faltered with both Sam and your glaring. "Get it? Witch jokes? Dog jokes? Sheesh, okay, you guys are seriously no fun."
Sam sighed. "We should probably take the, um, dead werewitch, out of here."
You followed his eyes to the heap of fur on your floor. Seeing your stalker dead was a major weight off your shoulders. It was such a relief that you felt high.
Sam was still talking. "—and you have finals?"
You sobered. "Right. Those." Like you would do anything except bomb them.
Sam must have known the look. "You haven't studied, have you? At all."
Shaking your head, you slumped into the mattress. "Nope. This stalker thing screwed me up big time. There's just no way." You sighed. Sam's dark look made you squint at him. "What?"
"I just, uh, know the feeling," Sam said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he said thoughtfully. "I got a free ride to law school before the hunting life took me away. I was already a hunter, I didn't have a choice. But you still do. You can still have that life you want." He tapped the card, still on the desk from his last visit. "Stay out of trouble and call us whenever. Especially if it's three in the morning."
Right then, you noticed the dog whistle was back, as if it had never left.
Realization hit you like a brick to the head. "You did that! You blew the whistle."
"Yeah, well, I knew it was a werewolf. So I took a gamble and… borrowed it. Guess I didn't think you'd miss it—it was pretty dusty."
"You stole my whistle!"
"Hey, no, I borrowed it—"
"You gave me a heart attack! I thought the werewitch had stolen it! That's what set me off and made me call you—not the window!"
Dean cracked a smile. "Hey, it saved you, though, yeah? If I hadn't taken it, who's to say I could have saved your damsel ass?"
"Jerk."
"Bitch," Dean said automatically.
You blinked in surprise at the speed of his reply.
His eyes widened. "Sorry. That's… uh, Sam usually says that and I respond with…"
You laughed. Really laughed. You doubled over, struggling to breathe for the second time today, but this time it was welcome. The Winchesters inevitably joined in as you howled. You wiped away your tears of laughter, occasionally breaking into a smaller fit.
"You good?" Dean asked, grinning,
You sighed, the hysteria wearing off. "God, it wasn't even that funny! You just caught me by surprise. Thanks, though. For saving me, and all."
Dean smiled, patting you on the back. "No problem, kid."
You settled into a comfortable silence. You were still trying to calm down as they watched you with looks of fondness.
"Are you going to be able to sleep?" Sam asked.
You knew what he meant: were you going to be able to sleep alone? And honestly, you had a feeling you would sleep like a baby tonight. However, you had no purpose staying here anymore. "Would I be stepping too far if I asked to come with you? Just for the night."
"Of course."
#supernatural#supernatural series#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural gif#SPN#spn gifs#spn fanfiction#spn fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#Supernatural fanfic#dean winchester#dean#Sam Winchester#sam#winchesters#reader#reader insert#x reader#spn fanfic series#spnfandom#spn fandom#supernatural fandom#dean x reader#dean x you#dean x reader angst#dean x y/n#dean x platonic reader#sam x reader#sam x platonic reader
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Flesh And Bones – Part 10 (End)
Sam/Bucky Soulmate AU
Series Masterlist
A/N: I can’t believe this is over? It took me a while, but I made sure I was happy with every chapter and I think I love how this story turned out. I’m emotional, don’t mind me, this series meant a lot to me so I will be weeping in a corner from now on. Please enjoy, and thank you so so so so so so much for reading, from the bottom of my heart.
Warnings: mentions of suicide
Words: 2739
Bucky woke up surrounded by a sense of warmth. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Sam’s face, sleeping next to him with pouty lips resting against the back of his hand. he was sleeping on his belly rather adorably, and as Bucky contemplated him with amazement, the events that led them there came back to his mind. The discomfort in his chest made him remember the shot wound he had received from the rogue Hydra agents he had killed. The wound wasn’t anything he hadn’t endured before, physically speaking, so he wasn’t in too much pain.
As much as he could have spent the following minutes focusing on remembering how he found his way back to Sam, Bucky was too hypnotized by the man’s peacefulness. He ran a finger across Sam’s cheekbones, and the latter responded by opening one eye. It took him a few seconds to fully come back to earth, then he ran a hand down his face to rub the sleepiness away.
"Hey." Sam mumbled.
"Tell me I didn't just faint.” Bucky pleaded jokingly, yet found a confirming smirk on Sam’s face and let out a defeated groan, “God, that's embarrassing."
Sam propped himself up on his elbows and lied back against the bedframe in order to accommodate the both of them. He helped Bucky ease into his torso, handling him with extreme care until the brunette head rested on Sam’s chest.
"Your adrenaline wore out when you found out I was okay.” Sam explained with deep fondness, dropping a kiss to his head, “You moron."
Bucky recalled the events. Sam was so worried, while he was so confused as to why the wound hadn’t affected Sam.
"Told you I healed fast." Bucky flaunted with a bit of a smug.
Sam smiled, "That, you did."
"What about-?"
"Nat's taking care of it.” he interrupted his partner before he could struggle to find the words, “Aside from you, it went pretty well.”
As a matter of fact, a lot of the agents they tracked down had gotten away, but the team gathered a bunch of information and arrested many people willing to rat each other out. Just as predicted, Hydra wasn’t what it used to be; they were barely surviving, so, cut off one head and the guy watching will desert to save his own. Sam, on his part, was usually more of a merciful man, and he didn’t enjoy the hero talk, nor the morality of the gig. He didn’t pretend to have all the answers. But when it came to Hydra, it was a lot more personal. He became more relentless. Therefore, after seeing the organization who broke Bucky for seventy years shoot him, he wished for nothing but pain and jail for them. He hoped, deep in his bones, that every agent in that base got what they deserved.
However, right there in bed, with Bucky safe and sound, and in his arms, he was able to let go of that hatred. Because nothing mattered more than Bucky at that very moment. He forgot all about the raid, and the information procedures Natasha was supervising, and he just held Bucky.
"No one's ever cared so much about me, Buck." He admitted.
What Sam couldn’t go past was the fact that Bucky was dying, and still the only thing he cared about was Sam’s ghost pain.
"They should." Bucky stated easily.
"I mean… I'm usually the one taking bullets."
"My point exactly.” Bucky raised his voice a bit, and crooked his neck so he could look up at Sam’s face with seriousness, “I want you safe. I know you can take care of yourself a whole lot better than I do, but... If I gotta take another bullet, it'd be for you. And I'd be praying you didn't feel it."
Sam couldn’t even fight back. If Bucky was willing to put himself out there for him, then Sam couldn’t stop him. After all, partners take bullets for each other, and they were so much more than just partners. Perhaps, one day ago, Sam would have rejected the idea. He would have told Bucky he was being senseless and reckless, but now, he understood. He would do anything for Bucky, too. This time, all he thought about was how immensely lucky he was for having Bucky in his life.
"You know I love you, right?" Sam asked like he was deeply worried that Barnes might not know.
Bucky smiled up at him playfully, "You're my soulmate."
"Yeah, but besides.” Sam continued, giving Barnes love-eyes, “I think I'd have fallen for you even without the bond."
Bucky reveled in how pretty that sounded, and contemplated the thought.
"Yeah, me too.” He concluded.
The injured man stretched up his body to plant a kiss onto Wilson’s lips, yet the second they met, he felt the pain in his torso. He winced with discomfort, but also with embarrassment at the realization of what a bad idea that was.
“That was so stupid.” Sam mocked him although there was nothing but sweetness in his tone.
Over all, he was amazed by how much he loved that idiot. Bucky, on his part, laughed at himself and lied back on Sam’s chest.
“Let’s forget I did that.” He proposed after groaning with the movement, “Good thing you can’t feel that anymore.”
“You think it’s for good?” Sam wondered, tiptoeing around the topic that had been just brought up, “Like Tony said, the physical bond’s over?”
Barnes thought long and hard, but he couldn’t come up with any factor that would confirm that theory entirely. He didn’t know why the bond would cease now, of all times; perhaps because they needed it to cease in that base. Perhaps because they truly controlled it all along and just managed to do it willingly. Perhaps it was a random event, or perhaps merely a one-time thing.
“Maybe.” He said truthfully, “I think we got this under control, so whatever happens…”
Sam filled in the silence, “We got this.”
“Yeah.”
-
After the proper amount of time, Bucky’s flesh healed completely, and Sam took the opportunity to incentive him to go outside more. It started out as a midnight walk, a trip to buy donuts –which became a discussion about whether or not that was a date-, and ended as a jog in the park. The latter, however, wasn’t too enjoyable for Bucky, but it got him to love running with Sam, so they agreed on jogging at night every once in a while.
That was the scenario, both of them in sweats and jogging side-to-side throughout the empty bride. It was perfect, having that as a couple, while being away from the public eye for the most part. This time, unfortunately, there was a dreadful surprise on the edge of the bridge.
Usually, Bucky forced himself to ignore the bystanders, hopefully becoming invisible to them, but this specific person came too fast and too strong into the couple’s peripheral vision: they were standing on the high edge, staring down.
It didn’t take a single more second for the heroes to react. When he got closer, Sam stopped on his tracks to avoid startling the jumper, meanwhile Bucky, lacking much social tact, ran towards her decisively.
"Hey, hey, get back down." He commanded her, struggling to conceal his desperation.
He looked up at her and saw a frightened young girl, crying her eyes out as she contemplated her next step. He stretched out his hand to her tentatively, and as much as he wanted to grab her arm and yank her away from the edge, he figured that could possibly make it all worse.
"Don't.” He pleaded, “Don't do it."
All he could think about is that she seemed too young to give up, whatever reason it was that drew her to that decision. She had so many years ahead of her to turn her life around, he found it hard to believe that she would even think about ending it for good.
"Please, just leave." She sobbed, missing eye contact.
"I won't until you get down from there.” Bucky raised his voice to a more stern demand, “If you try to jump, I'll stop you."
The threat brought more sobbing to the girl, who covered her face with her hands and trembled into them.
"Why, cause I got my whole life ahead of me?” she yelled with rage, “My soulmate died. She's not getting a second chance at life, I'm not getting a second chance!”
Barnes took a sharp breath and approached her slowly.
"I'm sorry." He expressed genuinely.
The girl looked down at him and for a second, Bucky saw something in her face, like she recognized who he was, but didn’t say anything. She simply shrugged it off and looked down again.
"Why would I live an entire life without a soulmate?" she asked barely above a whisper.
"You don't know that for sure."
"Yes, I do!” she burst once again, “She was the one, now I'm alone forever!"
"No, it doesn't work like that.” Bucky said firmly, finally captivating her silent attention, “The bond... it makes no sense, at all. Don't make a choice like- don't make any choice based on that, ‘cause nothing's for sure."
The way he spoke made it sound like his opinion on the bond hadn’t changed from that day before he found out he had a soulmate; he wasn’t a fan, and the technicalities of it never made any more sense to him, not even after going through one himself. His tone, however, convinced the girl a little. She looked behind Bucky and found Sam standing there, keeping his distance from the tense scene, with a cellphone in hand and expectancy written all over his body. He was frozen, and trusting Bucky to be capable of saving her all by himself.
She sniffled and returned her glance to her savior, "How do you know?"
"Cause it didn't make any sense for me either.” He confessed like he was letting go of a weight from his chest, “At any point. And yet, here we are."
The word ‘we’ made her glance at Sam one more time. This time, when Bucky offered his hand, the girl took it, and as she cautiously stepped down from the edge, Bucky shot a quick glance for Sam to make the call. She didn’t need the Avengers, she needed 911 and her parents.
-
She was taking off the blanket the ambulance gave her, when her mother, who ran to hug her hysterically when she showed up, began guiding her to the car. The last thing Sam and Bucky saw of the survivor was a jacket being wrapped over her shoulders and a car door being closed. The pair remained there, sitting on a bench in waits of the girl to be driven home, safely.
"You did really well." Sam spoke finally, the second their job there was done.
Barnes ran a hand down his face, exhaustedly.
"You think so?" he mumbled.
Sam pressed a kiss to his temple, "I think you're ready to be a hero again."
Bucky let out a soft laugh, matching Wilson’s proud smile.
"I didn't know this was on the contract of being an Avenger." Bucky joked.
"It's not. That's why you're better than an Avenger."
The words hit Bucky, and all he could think about is that being an Avenger wasn’t his ultimate goal. His role model wasn’t Steve, nor Wanda, no matter how much he admired them; the person he thrived to be like more than anything was Samuel Wilson.
Before the bond, before everything, any time Sam would come back from his jog at the park with a gloomy face and tell whoever was in the common area that yet another desperate soul had injured themselves in front of him, Barnes would listen. He would see the disappointment in Sam’s eyes when he said he didn’t get to the stranger in time, and Bucky wouldn’t understand why Sam thought avoiding self-inflicted physical harm was more important than calming them down afterwards. Eventually, he understood Sam viewed the talks and advice and comfort as the least he could do, because that was who he was: a sensitive, responsible hero.
"You do these kinds of things all the time.” Bucky remarked, “At the park. You reach to people."
As a matter of fact, Sam had reached him. And in the end, Bucky thrived to be like Sam, because in his eyes, Wilson -and not the Falcon- was the biggest hero the world had ever had, and everyone should want to be just a little more like him. But Sam, he believed it had been Bucky who really reached out, in his own unique way.
He sensed the warmth of heart coming from his partner, and his tummy did a small flip.
"You're about to say something real cheesy, aren't you?" he teased Bucky.
The appellee grinned, "Maybe."
As much as Wilson pretended to be too manly for cheesiness, hearing Bucky’s sweetened words awakened something in him he didn’t think he could enjoy. So he nodded, truly expectant for the ‘cheesiness’.
"Go ahead."
Bucky shook his head and looked down at his feet.
"No, I was just thinking... how you're, you know... I wouldn't have done these things without you.” Barnes admitted, a little shameful, but making sure he sounded confident in his declaration, “Taking care o' myself, getting out of the compound... shit, saving someone."
Sam took in the compliment, yet humbly as ever.
"You just needed a little push.” He nudged his partner’s shoulder minimally.
"Or a hero.” Bucky corrected him, this time staring right into Sam’s eyes, “For me to look up to."
Somehow, the thought of Barnes seeing him as a role model made Sam crumble. It made him feel so wonderfully loved, because in his eyes, the strongest, most resilient person on earth was still that man sitting next to him. And finally, he internalized the utopic notion of being adored by the person he adored, which he had to force himself to accept as a reality. He was his hero’s hero.
"You and me, both." Sam replied with devoted eyes.
Sitting on that bench, and slowly beginning to cuddle closer to the other as the chilly night air caught up to their bodies, both of them felt the particular adrenaline rush that one feels when contemplating the fragility of one’s heart. Usually, when a heart is so drawn to another, the poor thing hangs by a thread of futile stability; if the other person leaves, said heart would crumble into pieces, and it is precisely that fear that sinks into the intensity of romance. It is what we call being terrified of losing a loved one.
However, moments later, as if they could sense the other’s soul and connect through them, they both settled into a peaceful sensation as they remembered that if all went well, they would be together forever. That was the whole point, right? The mutual understanding. The bond. The fact that, even though their flesh was no longer sewed together, they still had each other’s names carved into their bones.
In the end, pain is still such human extravaganza. Nobody does aching from love, or the lack of it, better than humans. The pain parade of romance is something so deeply rooted into the dumbest parts of our brains, that that must be the reason behind soulmates. So, indeed, it is only logical for such a cruel universe to bond love and pain so tightly. But it is also a vital human necessity to turn that pain into something beautiful. Something comfortably joyful. Something easy.
Because no matter how difficult loving can be, it is such a human trait to turn that same love into something soothing.
At first it comes like a tingle, a small pinch or even the ghost sensation of a scratch, and hopefully, it transforms into a healing factor. Something like a comforting hug, or a little push. Some needed and given bit of space, a little blind faith, an honest talk, a first-aid kit, or even a box of donuts to replace unspoken words. That is all we have, after all, and it is who we are: comfort, warmth, and human connection. Without it, all we would have left of existence would be pain, and flesh, and bones.
#sambucky#sam wilson x bucky barnes#fatws#tfatws#marvel fanfiction#sambucky fanfiction#angst#fluff#soumate au#tw: suicide
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My Brothers, Corrupted
Chapter 2 : Section 6 : Dam Break
Red has been pushing and pushing the limits of the protection he is allowed to give his little brothers. After he confronted Anti about Dapper’s medication, Anti agreed to allow Dok to be in charge of his treatment from now on – but he also decided that Red has to pay the price for the weeks of subtle disobedience he’s accumulated, and his punishment won’t be merciful.
Trigger warnings for major abuse, blood, murder, torture, imprisonment, and psychotic symptoms.
Find Chapter One here.
Find Chapter Two here.
Section Six of Chapter Two: Dam Break
Anti, more than anything else, likes to taunt you.
That much you know. That much you remember. That’s why you’re here, at the end of the day. That’s the only reason you’re here.
Anti, more than anything else, likes to taunt you.
Your cameras have been dead for days, no signal forthcoming no matter how many times you try to connect. Now, an odd signal shows up on your tracker, not like anything you’ve ever seen before. You’re not hacking into a livefeed, you’re being sent an old recording.
From a police surveillance camera.
The image fuzzes painfully into view, and Red appears before your eyes. He is curled in the back of a cold metallic prison cell, shaking, his cheeks wet with tears. You watch him through a pair of silent cameras in the corners of the interrogation room and the room beside it. Red doesn’t know you’re there, or maybe he just can’t focus long enough to stop crying and look up. You’ve never seen his shoulders shaking that hard.
The police officers chatter in rapid-fire Spanish on the other side of the glass, not loud enough for him to make out even if he could speak the language. The cop who brought him in comes back into the room and looks him over again, irritated by her own confusion. You can see it in her face.
“What’s your name?” she tries, not for the first time, through a thick accent.
His mouth trembles. He stares down at her professional little work shoes.
“If you tell us, it makes everything easier. For you. For me. Us. Makes things easier. What’s your name?”
No answer. His eyes are so sorrowful, like those little dogs in the shelter commercials. But she doesn’t feel bad. Monsters don’t deserve her pity.
She sighs and brings up her clipboard, scrawling something along the top. No ID, no documents, no address, nothing. Just a broken phone in his pocket, incapable of doing anything but glitch. “You’re American?” she asks.
He shrugs, holding his knees to his chest.
“No? Yes?”
He blinks and tears come trickling down his face. Exasperated, she lowers the clipboard again.
“Fine, don’t tell anything to me,” she snaps. “Soon we will find something. We will tell other authorities. Easier for you to get along with us, yes?”
Red closes his eyes tight and sticks the bend of his thumb in his mouth, biting down on it hard, trying to stay calm. She may as well still be speaking Spanish. He can’t focus on a word she’s saying. Can’t focus on anything but the blood.
His dark hands reaching up, begging for mercy, the heavy red river-run, making the whole air sting with copper-smell; Red had drawn back, revolted by his own hands, and the dark eyes slid oh-so-slowly-shut, the screaming dying down like an animal no one put out of its misery –
“Hey!” shouts the cop, slamming her clipboard on the bench beside him. “Pay attention! What, you are shaken up, huh? You are upset – sad? I don’t care how long you sit here crying, gringo. We all know you killed that man.”
“No,” croaks Red.
They let him wash his hands. He can still feel the blood.
“No, no, no…”
He just did what Anti told him to. That can’t have been bad. He can’t have killed him. Not really. It was a joke, maybe. One of Anti’s tests of obedience. Not real. Not real.
The officer swears in Spanish and turns her back on him, heading out the door again. Red reaches out as it begins to close, yelping in panic.
“No, no, no!” he screams, trying to rise on unsteady feet. “No, please let me go! I need to go back to my master! Anti! Anti!”
The door slams shut, locking with a fatal click.
Red cries in earnest, slamming his head against the wall, sobbing like his heart is shattered, trying not to think.
It can’t have been real. It can’t have been real. It can’t have been real.
His hands are slicked in blood.
The door doesn’t re-open for another twelve hours.
He looks up desperately at the creaking of the hinges, and there, there is that blessed silhouette of his little brother, standing before him with his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie, his face calm, his neck hidden by a scarf even in the tropical heat.
“Anti,” sobs Red, and then he is staggering to his feet and rushing towards the door, throwing himself into his brother’s arms. Anti hugs him back gently, running a hand down the small of his back.
“¿Lo dejaste aquí toda la noche?” he asks, letting Red thud his forehead soundly against his collarbone.
Red realizes there are still cops with them, hovering strangely far away from Anti. It takes a long time for anyone to answer.
“Sí,” admits an officer finally, hiding slightly behind his partner.
Anti hums, nodding. He strokes a warm hand through Red’s hair, examining him carefully. His boy’s whole body shakes, timid and minute, and he claws compulsively at his hands, visibly distressed.
Perfect.
“Apologize,” says Anti, softly.
Red opens his mouth to say sorry immediately, looking up at Anti with desperation in his eyes, but his master puts a finger on his lips and silences him.
The officers exchange looks.
Anti turns slowly towards them. His eyes are dark.
“Apologize,” he repeats, quieter still.
A long pause in the hallway.
“Lo siento,” somebody whispers.
Anti nods slowly, pushing Red off his chest. He turns and walks away without another word, his boots clicking on the linoleum floor of the station, leaving several shaken law enforcement officials behind him. Jackie doesn’t know what he did to get him set free and he doesn’t care. He hurries after Anti.
“Anti,” he whispers, stumbling past processing stations, civilians, and officers alike as they head towards the warm wash of the open air. He wants someone to hold onto him, to put weight on his body and wrap him up tight in their arms. “Anti, Anti.”
His brother ignores him, pushing through the door to the outside. Jackie moans, feeling bleary and exhausted, and continues after him.
For a second, you connect to the surveillance camera outside, so Anti knows you catch the last glimpse of it all.
“Did you learn your lesson?” asks Anti, not looking at him.
“Yes,” sobs Red. “Yes.”
“You don’t want to go to prison?”
“No, no, no!”
“So…”
“I’ll be good! I’ll be good! I’ll be good, I swear!”
“Because - ”
“I’m nothing without you. I’m nothing without you. I’m nothing, I’m nothing, I’m sorry.”
Anti laughs, grabbing his wrist. “There’s my good boy. My good, stupid, pathetic little creature. Fucking idiot boy. You’re a horrible excuse for a brother, Red. So here’s what’s going to happen - you and I are going home. You’ll stay in the house. Put your brothers back in order, or I will send you out on another murder, and when you inevitably fuck it all up, I will let the cops have you. They can ship you back to Italy or Norway or wherever it is you’re wanted for the most murders. Sound good?”
Red is sobbing so hard all he can do is shake his head. He reaches out to touch Anti, but his brother pushes him away, and turns back towards the mountain without another word.
The date on the camera reads Jan 16.
Whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: Blue I would get the med kit ready buddy. Pixie-in-trebleland asked: Blue, your twin is in trouble. Things are about to get nasty. He knows everything! Anti knows everything! Anonymous asked: “…Dap.. Please use the horn that’s under the sink. You trust me, right..? If you do, please, us. The horn. I-I can help you.” -PF!H Anonymous asked: Blue I’m so sorry,,, Red went to help warn Anti about the medicine and now I think your twin is being rewritten. Anti knows the magic you’ve done so be careful once Red is back! Be strong for your family!
Anti’s little film finishes in cold static and you disconnect from the recording, finding a more familiar code available now that you’ve seen what you wanted to see. Reconnecting to the clinic camera code brings every camera in the house back onto your screens, and you’re with the boys again.
Blue is cooking in the kitchen - plain rice, it looks like - and he looks up in surprise as the camera begins pinging like crazy, picking up your old messages that never reached him in time. He opens his mouth, confused.
“Oh,” he murmurs finally, blinking and looking down at his rice. His voice is very quiet. “You all tried to warn me, didn’t you? Thank you… sorry, I didn’t… I don’t know, I… thank you for trying your best.”
Anonymous asked: Blue, are you alright?
“Oh,” sighs Blue, taking his rice off the cooker. “Just a little tired, is all.”
There’s soft crying in another room, and - is that screaming? It’s a little farther off, but you don’t know where.
nikkilbook asked: Not to freak anyone out, but Hermann, the guy who cornered Red, could turn invisible. We couldn’t see him, Dap couldn’t see him, he was only seen when he wanted to be seen. Y’all aren’t the only magic thing in this city anymore.
“Mmmh,” Blue hums, spooning rice onto a plate. He didn’t make that much. “Anti says Dapper most likely killed that one man, Hermann. Stabbed him deep. Most likely he’s not walking around one way or another, and definitely not hiking the mountains. The people around here watch out for us when it comes to the others… that’s how Anti found today’s guest of honor.”
Something cold and angry twists up Blue’s mouth.
“She was coming to hurt us. She’ll get what she deserves. Dok gave a man antibiotics for bronchitis last week, and this morning one of his sons comes running up the mountain to tell us there is a strange girl asking about a man with red hair… Anti scooped her up quick enough after that. That’s what she gets for trying to fuck with my family. That Genesis girl. She was the one almost took Red away from us.”
He sighs and rubs at his face, cooling a little.
“But you’re right… We’re not the only magic things in this city anymore. That’s made it a little harder on us lately. Anti seems so paranoid and Red is…”
Blue drifts off, stirring through the rice for no apparent reason. His gaze is obsessed with it. The circles under his eyes are very dark.
“Something has to change soon,” he mumbles. “We can’t keep living like this.”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey! Red, what happened, duder?? It's been awhile!
The crying cuts off abruptly as the camera beeps back to life in Red and Blue’s room.
Red blinks at you from over his shoulder for a second before turning back to face the wall again. He’s tucked up in the corner with his knees drawn to his chest and his head against the wall. He doesn’t answer you.
A long thin chain snakes away from his body.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Blue, what happened to your twin? Why's he all chained up?
Blue takes a long time to reply.
“Apparently Red was becoming too… what’s the word… carefree. Lax, too, lazy in his duties. Anti said he worries too much about what’s going on outside the house and not enough what happens inside. So Red is just… inside, for a while. He can move around. Just he has to stay here. And watch us. And watch everything. Pretty, um, strictly.”
Blue’s lip curls, staring down at his rice.
nikkilbook asked: We’re with you, Jackie. Even if he turns us off, even if he resets you and pushes you back into the darkness he made of you, we’ll be here. Doesn’t matter what he does. Doesn’t matter what he makes you do. We’re with you.
Red stops staring down at the laptop at his feet and turns his head slightly back towards you. His face is slightly bitter and absent of anything else, until maybe a moment of regret makes his mouth soften.
The door in the clinic bangs open and Red turns his head towards the noise, pulling himself slowly to his feet and coming to stand in the doorway, where the door has been removed.
“Dap? You doing okay, sweetheart?” he hears Blue call, but Dapper comes zipping past Red’s room a moment later, ducking back into Anti’s. A moment later he emerges with a bone saw and a crowbar and zips back down the hall again - only to be stopped by a hand reaching out to snatch his collar.
Dapper freezes, stiff in Red’s grasp. Red regards him carefully, noting fresh blood on his shoes and the ends of his pants. His smaller body trembles with a nervous sort of adrenaline, making Dapper seem to buzz all over, staring up at Red.
Red sighs and releases him, pushing him away. Relieved, Dapper staggers forward again and darts back out the door without a word to Blue, leaving blood-stained footprints in his wake.
“Fuck,” cries Blue, slamming his plate down on the kitchen counter. “He’s using him like a little torturer and he gets so shaken up! He’s not doing well getting back on his medicine and this isn’t going to help. Red, tell Anti to let Dapper go, can’t he handle it on his own?”
Red rolls his eyes and turns away, heading back into his room.
Blue hisses and turns away, tears sparking in his eyes. “If you won’t say something, I will!”
And this was the wrong thing to say.
Red reappears in the hallway, his eyes dark. He steps slowly towards Blue. His twin, realizing his mistake, falls deathly silent, sinking back against the counter, until Red is standing nearly chest-to-chest with him, staring down.
Blue swallows, looking anywhere but at Blue.
“Don’t,” whispers Red. “Bother your master.”
Blue chews on his lip, his eyes flashing.
“Am I understood?”
“Yes, Red.”
Red pauses just a second longer before turning to limp back towards his room, that chain heavy around his ankle. Blue swallows again and again, blinking rapidly.
cest-mellow asked: red? are you okay? are you hurt?
Red pauses to stare at you. From an angle right above him, you can see a horrible exhaustion in his face, like something is eating him from the inside out, but his face is so taut and angry.
“I m-made lunch if you want some,” whispers Blue from the kitchen.
Red glances back at him, then at you.
“No,” he mumbles, retreating into his room again. “I’m fine.”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: What's gotten into you, man? Y'all were buddy buddy again.
You hear Red’s breathing start to get heavy again. He sits down in his corner and pulls his blanket over his shoulder, shaking.
“That was kind of the problem,” he croaks, turned away from you.
Anonymous asked: where's dok and trick?
“Ah!” Blue claps his hands together, relieved just to think about the two of them. At least the younger twins are keeping it together, mostly. “They are just down the hill a little ways, helping with a birth! Could be gone for hours or could be back soon, but, uh, I can still hear screaming, so I’d give it a while. They… probably didn’t bring a camera to that, haha. It’s good for Dok to be able to help people and for Trick to get out of the house. I convinced Anti and Red to let them go.” He sighs out a breath of relief, sitting down at the table and picking up somebody’s t-shirt, spreading it out across the wood. “It’s good to know I do at least have some of my caretaker privileges intact.”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: How are you holding up, Blue? Are you and Jackie still close?
Blue straightens out the shirt for much too long before he finally moves to get a needle, avoiding the gaze of the camera.
“It’s still my job to look after Red,” he whispers.
And then, even softer:
“I’ll always love him.”
cest-mellow asked: red, do you feel guilty for having to treat your brothers this way? even if it’s anti making you do it?
Red slams his hand against the ground, nearly wheezing. “I’m just doing what I have to!” he screeches, making Blue flinch hard in the other room. “Why don’t any of you ever understand? This is all my fault! None of this would have happened if I had done what I was supposed to in the first place! If I could keep everything in order Anti wouldn’t have to be so stressed and angry and then nobody else would have to be so sad all the time and Trick wouldn’t try to hurt himself and Blue wouldn’t get that look in his eyes like everything’s wrong! I have to keep everyone in line because it’s worse if I don’t! And Anti’s right, they do such stupid shit if nobody makes them stop!”
Red clutches at his hair, rocking himself back and forth. “And, fuck, the way that Anti looks at Blue and Doktor lately, like he hates them as much as he hates me! Like he’s fucking hungry… Stupid, stupid, stupid! I can’t keep anybody safe! I just did what he told me! I didn’t mean for anybody to get hurt! I didn’t want anybody to die, I don’t want them to get hurt anymore! I have to do this, I have to do this, I have to be good, get it together, get it together, get it together…”
Anonymous asked: We’re so sorry, Blue. Is there anything we can do? Has...has Anti punished you in any way for the shed incident?
“Mmh,” groans Blue, trying to ignore Red’s shouting in the other room. “No. Red took all the punishment for us… and now he doesn’t even look at us like he knows us. So I guess that’s my punishment. Ugh… there’s nothing anybody can do.”
He pauses, darning up the t-shirt with hands that shake very badly. In fact, now that you look at them, his fingers are terribly stiff, and the skin of his hands an irregular red, with white, flaking patches. He pauses to itch at them, trying not to think about it.
nikkilbook asked: I don’t blame you, Jackie.
“Mmmmh.” Shuddering, Red curls in on himself. “It was my hands. He didn’t even have to threaten the others… I just wanted to be good for him and make everyone stop hunting us… we’re always just being hunted and hunted and hunted… I just wanted it to stop…”
Pixie-in-trebleland asked: What's going on with your hands, hun? The lack of magic use getting to you?? Anonymous asked: What happened to your hands, blue? Did Anti do something or is your magic hurting them?
Blue laughs nervously. “My hands? Nothing. A rash, probably. I’ll ask Dok sometime. It’s all fine.”
But you’ve brought his attention to them and he cringes, trying to stop scratching. After a moment his fingers suddenly curl up into tight, shaking fists, and he gasps, arching his body around his own hands, his teeth gritted tight and his face taut with pain.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he groans, suddenly whiter. His veins are extraordinarily blue. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
His fingers relax again and he tries to return to his darning, shaken.
nikkilbook asked: Seems to me there’s a difference between it being your hands and being your choice. Just because he didn’t wear your skin or threaten your brothers doesn’t mean it wasn’t him holding the strings.
“It’s easy to justify things if you really want to,” says Red softly, turning away from you again.
cest-mellow asked: red, i’m sorry. i’m sorry. everything is gonna be okay. you don’t deserve this, none of you do. you’re a good brother, a wonderful brother, no matter what anti tells you. you’re so so wonderful.
Red laughs aloud, burying his face in his knees, drawn up to his chest.
“You know what he told me?” he whispers. “He doesn’t even think of me as his brother. Just… just his Red. Just a protector. Maybe if I’m good he’ll want me again.”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Maybe find a balance, Red. Still be your warm ol' self, while keeping them in place.
Red doesn’t answer, running his hands through his hair.
cest-mellow asked: something has to change here, blue. anti isnt rigjt, you know this. i know you love him and want him to be happy but.. look at what he’s doing. making red go insane. using dapper as a torture machine, treating dok like he’s less than dirt, making trick feel worse and worse everyday. he’s hurting you, he’s hurting your brothers. if you all work together you can stop this.
Blue lets out a low, frightened breath through his teeth. “Sh, please, careful, Red will notice. He has that laptop now, he can see what he chooses to. And I, uh - I love Anti very much and I know that things will start looking up soon if we’re all good. So… that’s that, yep.”
He’s interrupted by the door opening and two sopping wet brothers appearing in the doorway, calling greetings. You watch Blue’s whole figure melt with relief, and he leaps to his feet to join Trick and Doktor at the door, immediately fussing over them.
“Why are you two idiots so wet? Oh, your poor coat, Dok, and it’s still pink! Ugh, you both smell, you need nice cold showers in this awful heat.”
Trick and Dok are in good spirits. “We got hosed down,” Dok explains with a grin. “To get the blood and afterbirth off.”
“Well, it didn’t work great, I have to tell you. Did it go okay?”
“It was great!” Trick claps his hands together. “Blue, Blue, you have to see the baby!” He looks like he might cry. “She was so, so, so beautiful.”
“Healthy little thing, shockingly healthy,” nods Dok.
“And look what they gave us!” cheers Trick, and presents Blue loyally with a big cardboard box full of eggs, bright yellow sodas, baked sugar buns, and, lo and behold, a whole skinned chicken.
Blue gains some color back in his cheeks, eagerly taking the box from Trick and setting it on the counter, running his hands almost reverently over the food. He didn’t know how he was going to handle explaining to them that they had run out of everything but brown rice. Handling buying groceries for everyone is not as easy as Red usually makes it look.
“You did so well,” he praises them brightly, and Trick and Dok both smile back at him, looking healthy and proud. “You’re both so talented. Look at all this, oh - I’ll cook you something to go with the rice. You go get your showers. There should be soap, still, isn’t there?”
“There is, Blue, there is.”
“Oh, good, good… Okay, yes. Ah! You’re both so dear to me. Look how well you did. Oh, you both worked for so long. I’ll get some food in you and we’ll get your clothes all washed. My excellent little brothers. Everything’s well.”
Trick and Dok welcome his praising with only one quick, concerned look between the two of them - Blue seems to get a little more assertive in his affection every day, like he’s scared they don’t know he loves them.
bupine asked: hey blue, you ok? you should see doktor about your hands if you can, it seems like they're hurting you
Dok pauses before following Trick back to their room, frowning. “What’s this about your hands?”
Blue turns away quickly, lathering them in soap to avoid their gaze. “Oh, it’s nothing, buddy, don’t worry about it. You can go get your shower.”
“Come on, Blue, you can tell me.”
“Dok, it’s really nothing, I think they’re just dry. Air’s so dry up here.”
“What? The ocean is within miles. Just show me, come now.”
“Please, Dok, you - ” Blue cuts himself off with a gasp and then Dok is yelping as someone grabs him by the hair and drags him back towards his own room.
“What did you do wrong?” asks Red flatly, standing him straight in the doorway.
“I - ow, ow, Red! I don’t - I was just - I’m supposed to look after him!”
“Oh? You’re supposed to look after him? Are you Blue’s big brother?”“
Shit! Doktor realizes his mistake. “N-no, I’m younger - ”
“So?”
“So I shouldn’t have - ah, Red! - I should have obeyed him!”
“Instead of?”
“Instead of - um - telling him to show me his hands!”
Dok is released. Trick rushes forward to grab his shoulders.
Red turns away and retreats to his room without another word, hair falling from his fingers.
Blue stands in the kitchen, mouth open and reddened hands outstretched. Trick and Dok scurry to the bathroom, holding onto each other like otters trying not to get separated as the night wears on.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Red, I understand your fears. But... you're going to end up pushing them all away if you keep carrying on like this.
“I know,” says Red, very quickly and very softly.
“I know I will. But maybe they’ll be a little safer. I can’t be their brother anymore. I have to be the dog in charge. And the dog in charge has to bite. Anyway, Dok knows the rules. Once I remind him a few times he’ll know and it will be easier.”
He hides his hands against his chest, curling in on himself.
“I’ve always been willing to starve to see them eat,” he mumbles. “But this is like I’m giving up my soul. The worst part is, the more I do it, the more I really feel like I want to hurt them. I think I’ll be gone very soon.”
Shrieking starts up from outside his boarded up window and he startles, looking up. He wishes he could be helping Anti instead of spoiled little Dapper…
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Is Anti's love more important than the others?
“Fuck!” hisses Red, shaking his head at you, despairing. “Fuck, why do none of you never understand anything, anything, anything! You think this is about love… haven’t you ever had to survive anything…”
Anonymous asked: Red, this can't go on much longer. The people around you, the people in town, those new parents, that brand new baby - they all have lives, freedom. Yes, they might be poor, it might be hard for them, but they don't have to live in fear. They don't have to hurt the ones they love. They do not have an Anti, and you don't need one, either. It's time to go. Please, Jackie. It's time to go.
“I know you see a difference between Anti and the others,” whispers Red. “Because he can be cruel and he leads us. But Anti’s not separate from them to me, except that he’s my master as well as my little brother. I couldn’t leave him behind. Him, me, Dapper, even Trick and Dok, we’ve all done horrible things. Fuck, just a few days ago, I… I…”
He drifts off again, sighing. “Anti just gets excited about it because that’s how he was made. I don’t care what it looks like to anybody else. He’s my family. I’ll always try to protect him. He doesn’t have to return the feeling.”
He rubs at his head like it’s hurting him and gets to his feet. Maybe he’ll go see if he can spy what’s going on in the shed from the backdoor. He wonders if that girl who tried to kidnap him is dead already, or if Anti is still having Dapper carve the information out of her.
Anonymous asked: Jackie, she can help you! I know you're angry for what she did, but I'm begging you, just give her a chance. We can't all be wrong.
Red blinks and then his gaze turns angry as he backs away from the door, chained inside the house. “Her? That Genesis girl? She tried to take me away! She chained me down and hit me! She could have killed me or I might have never seen the others again!”
His breathing is picking up again, his hand over his heart.
“If she tries to fucking ‘help me,’ I’ll kill her like I should have in that alleyway! I hope Anti’s ripped her to shreds already.”
You might be barking up the wrong tree.
Anonymous asked: Okay. Then Blue. You know magic. You know Genesis could help you. Do it for your brother.
“Help me with what?” frowns Blue. “She’s going to make Anti less grumpy? She’s going to hide us better so we can live in peace for once? She’s the one trying to find us, remember? Or those… people she works with.”
He frowns deeper still, rubbing at his hands. “Strange, I feel almost like I recognized those symbols they wear on their wrists… but I never can remember…”
Sighing, Blue turns his gaze back to you. “What, you guys really believe she’s somehow okay after what she did to Red? Do you even know anything about this stranger who’s been hunting us?”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Do you see anything wrong with how you guys are being treated, Red? Cause I think that is the problem she's seeing
“I think it sucks ass that we always have to be running! And I know that Trick shouldn’t be hurting himself, but we’re doing our best cause we can’t go to the hospital or a professional or something! And I know there was that stress with Dapper’s meds, but Dok is working on it.”
Red runs his hands over his face and sighs deeply.
“Look, I know we’re poor or whatever, and cut off from the whole world, but we do what we can. That doesn’t mean we need saving, especially not a version of salvation that involves dragging me away and killing all of my brothers with magic. Did you hear the way they talked about me just because they smelled magic on me? They think Blue and Dap and Anti are demons or something!”
He shivers and rubs his shoulders. “They could really hurt them. I - oh!”
He startles as the door of the shed opens and Anti emerges, towelling blood off his hands. Red sinks away from the door, avoiding his master’s eye.
Anti is panting a little, glitching passionately. He chucks the towel at Red and claps a hand on his shoulder, pausing to rest.
“Tell Trick to guard the shed tonight,” he says. “And keep an eye on the camera. She’s dangerous. And if she gets out, there will be hell to pay.”
“Yes, Anti,” Red promises stiffly.
“Um, Anti,” calls Blue anxiously. “Dapper can come in now?”
Anti pauses for a moment, regarding him. There is something dark and impatient in his eyes, but he moves on.
“He’ll be along in a minute. He’s doing that weird thing with the ghosts again. Tell Dok to hurry up and fix him. I’m going to go clean up.”
Panicked, Blue puts aside the lunch he’s making and darts towards the door as Anti retreats down the hall, only to be snatched up at the last moment by a hand on the back of his collar.
“Don’t go out there,” Red warns. “You weren’t asked to guard or check. Anti said he would be along in a minute.”
Blue scowls and shakes him off, backing away with eyes full of tears. For a second, you think they might say something to each other.
Blue goes back to making his little brothers lunch. Red retreats to their room.
Anonymous asked: you're the caretaker, blue - you have to know that help can come from the strangest of places
Blue lets out a weak laugh. “I guess… I wouldn’t mind some help, lately. I miss… I miss…”
But he doesn’t know what it is he’s missing.
Anonymous asked: We know she didn't kill Red when she could have. We know her friend, Hermann, wanted to help Red, that he stopped the others from hurting him, and we know that he called Anti "demon." And we know that there is a better life away from Anti, but when someone holds out their hand, you need to take it. We know you love Anti, but he is hurting your brothers. Take her hand, at least try.
Blue pauses, turning a leg of chicken slowly.
“I… didn’t know all that. Maybe… but fuck, you all sound just like them… Anti’s not a fucking demon, he’s just something magical. He’s a lot like me, you know, just a different brand of sorcerer. Anyway, I’m sorry, but there’s no hand to take right now. She’s Anti’s prisoner, now. I don’t expect there’s much help for her at this point. For all I know, she’s dead already.”
Anonymous asked: How is Noodle the cat?
Trick is shaving Dok’s beard over the sink in their bathroom, but he stops halfway through to clap his hands together, delighted. “Great! So good, I love him more than Dok.”
“Hey!”
“Haha, just kidding. Behold! My kitten!”
Trick scoops his cat off the bed and presents him proudly to you.
“Mrr?” complains Noodle, stretching his little golden body in Trick’s hands. He’s already a little bigger than he was when you last saw him.
“He’s a very friendly cat,” says Dok, frowning at his halfway-shaved beard in the mirror.
“Yes, yes, yes, the best baby.” Trick smothers him in kisses and sets him on his shoulder, where Noodle is content to crawl back and forth, mewling and pushing his head against Trick’s face, asking for scratches. “He’s so good. He’s sooo good.”
Anonymous asked: alright, Caretaker. then I guess you'll never know if you could have helped your brothers.
Blue’s gaze has gone flat.
“What would you even have me do?” he asks, voice raw. “What would the point of any of it be? What can I even do about any of this?”
Anonymous asked: a poem for you, blue!! i wrote this a long time ago, don't judge, a friend told me you liked poetry :) It goes: The man who holds tight to the chain / of many fearsome hounds / must let go when the strongest pulls / or be dragged along the ground.
Blue’s face lights up. “Oh, I do! ‘The man who holds tight to the chain - ‘”
Immediately, a bright blue light is burning on his hands. He gasps and recoils, drawing them, shaking to his stomach, gritting down his teeth on a scream. No, no, no, no magic, he can’t, he has to hold on to it!
It takes him a long time to straighten up again. His face has lost all color and strands of sweaty blue hair tumble into his exhausted eyes.
“Sorry,” he coughs. “I’m not… feeling so well lately. I like your poem, though. Your structuring is very good. Thank you.”
Anonymous asked: You can try, Blue. It's all anyone can do.
“Try what?” He glances over at Red standing in the doorway. “It would be really hard to sneak out… you’d have to help me and I - oh! Dap-Dap!”
He drops his spoon and darts to Red’s side, once again held back by a hand on his collar. He growls dangerously, an odd color lighting up in his hands, but doesn’t struggle for now, calling for Dap to come back to the house.
“Dapper! Honey, come over here! My poor little brother, baby, come here!”
Dapper is standing out by the shed, looking stiff as a mannequin. He stares blankly at the house, his arms held out before him, soaked in blood. His face is very blank and he doesn’t answer Blue.
“Let me go!” shrieks Blue, tugging against Red’s grip. “He’s upset, look at him!”
Red sighs. “Would you calm down? He does this a lot.”
Blue lets out a furious cry, turning to punch his chest, startling Red but not causing him to let go. “Look what you and Anti are doing to my baby brother!” he shouts, tears rising in his eyes and color burning in his hands. He groans and clutches his fists together, furious. “He does this a lot? No, he doesn’t, not unless he’s sick or scared or being made to do horrible things!”
Red’s breathing fast. He shoves Blue out into the dirt. “Go get him and bring him back,” he snaps. “Before you get the beating you’re asking for.”
“I hate that you’re acting like this!” screams Blue, backing out of his reach. Red’s chain binds him tight to the house. “Why are you letting this happen?”
“Shut up, Blue,” snaps Red, whirling on him and returning to his room. He reaches out to slam the door before remembering Anti took it off. Distraught, humiliated, he crashes into his bed instead of his corner this time and draws his blankets over his head, hiding.
Blue lets him go and darts out towards Dapper to get his little brother back into the house. Dapper lets himself be lead, his face empty and his eyes wide and unfocused.
“Feeling okay, Dapper?” asks Blue, pulling him snugly to his chest, ignoring the blood that soaks into his shirt. He’ll clean it out later. “What happened, my darling? Did that magician girl upset you?”
Dapper just leans slightly into his chest, shaking.
Anonymous asked: Red, there had to be a better way to go about this. Trying to lead by fear will get you nowhere. Please, don’t turn to this, they rely so much on you for guidance as a big brother, not a master. They already have one of those, they don’t need another.
“This is what Anti told me to do,” he mumbles, holding himself. “This is what I have to do. This is what I can do to make it easier on them. Better I hit them than Anti…”
For a long time, he lies in silence. He’s tired to the core of his being. He didn’t know you could be so tired it hurts this badly.
And then, to your surprise, he asks you for a favor.
“Will you wake me up again if I fall asleep?”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Sure then, Red....but just remember that, at the end of the day, there are a whack load of brothers that have your back, love you, and wouldn't treat you like a dog.
Red sighs, long and low. He doesn’t know how to… ah, he’s never been good at talking about shit. Blue always seemed to understand anyway…
Anonymous asked: No??? red, you need to sleep!
He clutches his hair and sinks in on himself, hugging his shoulders. Slowly, he shakes his head back and forth, exhausted.
Anonymous asked: jeez, where's Anti? lurking around and whining about his daddy issues as usual?
You hear shouting from his room, behind the only door left in the house.
“I was just fucking out there, you insufferable little brats. Sorry I didn’t give everybody fucking kisses and ice cream! What the fuck do you idiots expect from me? Are your heads so full of air that you can’t for one second get your brain out of your asses - ”
You might want to turn your attention back to other cameras.
“Motherfucking sons of bitches - !”
Anonymous asked: Wait a minute, who is he yelling at? Us? Where’s Chase and Dok?
Dok and Trick perk up on their bed, exchanging looks. “We’re in our rooms! Wasn’t yelling at us. Right?”
“Right…” Dok pauses. “Probably…”
“Must have been yelling at you, dudes.”
Anonymous asked: Dap, buddy, can you hear us? Are you alright, love?
Blue brushes at Dapper’s hair, hoping he’ll answer you, but he just sinks father down against Blue’s body and closes his big blue eyes. Blue squishes him close and kisses his hair, feeling blood squealch beneath his fingers. He shudders.
“Dok!” he calls. “Dok, Trick! I think he just got shocked from all the blood. He gets so strange with chores like that! Sometimes he gets really, really over-excited, and he’ll come home from chores shaking so hard and grinning like a madman - or he comes hope just sobbing and sobbing while Anti drags him along by his hair - or he’s a simpering little puppy, and all he wants is somebody to hold on him - ”
“Or he clams up,” finishes Trick wearily, appearing in the room and taking one look at his brother.
“All this fucking blood!” hisses Dok, darting forward to pull Dap from Blue so he can get a look at him. Dap stares sadly up at him as he runs his hands over his head and his torso, looking for wounds.
Anonymous asked: Bahaha Anti you salty bitch, what’s your problem?
Anti cracks open the door to his room just to glare at you for two and a quarter seconds and then slam it very loudly, which only makes Dap jump and burrow into Doktor’s chest in the kitchen.
Anonymous asked: Isn't there a camera in the shed...? Are we able to see that?
You flip through your cameras. Like Anti said, you have a view on the girl: Genesis, the sorcerer.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: What happened, Dap?
“Yeah, what happened, buddy?” Trick leans forward to give Dap’s shoulder a good squeeze while Doktor wraps his arms around him, frowning. “Too much blood for one hour? Did that girl say anything about who sent her? There’s not more people going to be able to find us, right?”
“Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts.”
Doktor feels the word more than sees it and pushes Dapper back slightly to read. “What was that, Dap?”
But Dapper stares dead ahead in silence, his teeth chattering.
“Trick, what do you do to snap Doktor out of it when he gets all shell-shocked like this?”
Doktor blushes bright red and turns away from Trick and Blue, avoiding their eyes.
“Oh - we mostly just lie down in our room and I put a blanket on him and read or something and he comes back to himself eventually. If he gets violent I have to hold him down.”
“Trick,” croaks Doktor, humiliated.
“Bud, it’s just a shock thing, it’s okay…”
“I don’t like talking about it…”
“Okay, okay,” Blue cuts them off, taking back Dap. “Let’s just give him some peace and quiet, then.”
“He needs to get the blood off first,” Doktor advises sharply. “So unhygienic.”
“Alright. Let’s use your shower, come on.”
“That’s too many hands on one little guy,” Trick points out. “You and Dok look after him. I’ll finish lunch. Call me if you need anything.”
“Oh, Trick, I can finish it!”
“Blue, don’t be ridiculous, dude.”
Dok gives them both a warning look with a little hiss. Trick whitens.
“I mean, uh - whatever you say, big bro!”
Blue sighs. “No, okay. We’ll go look after him. Don’t tire yourself out, though, Trick, you’re on guard duty tonight.”
“Aw, damn! I mean - okay, that’s fine!”
cest-mellow asked: genesis? can you hear us..?
Genesis stares at you, directly across from where she sits.
There is, through her right hand, one beautiful golden dagger - Dapper’s Christmas present embedded in her palm.
Amber eyes survey you warily, her mouth taut and her eyes flashing. She leans forward in the chair she is tied to and levels you with a glare, clumps of short black hair closing in around her sharp face.
“I can see you,” she tells you. “I can see words. The talking cameras.”
Anonymous asked: Can we...talk to her? Is she okay? Well, I mean, is she alive?
Cuts litter her like stars the sky, including a delicate star carved perfectly into her cheek. Amidst the abuse, you eventually begin to distinguish heavy, deep gashes along the torso and legs from thin, patient cuts dancing across his fingers and face in pretty patterns. Burns adorn her throat like a witch’s collar.
She spits at you.
“Okay,” she laughs. “Fuck off, talking camera elves…”
She has a heavy accent, but speaks clearly.
Anonymous asked: Did dapper give you that?
“Dapper, I don’t know that. What’s dapper?”
Anonymous asked: Oh! Ma’am, can you see us? We’re here to help as much as we’re able too.
“Oh, the elves are here to help, uh-huh. The elves expect me to believe they don’t work for the little motherfucker in the vest.”
immabethehero asked: How did you get here, Genesis?
“Oh, what, you don’t know, now? Huh? I saw the cameras in the streets and the shitty old bars, but I didn’t think they would be full of spies. So you told the demon I was coming, huh? Mean little camera elves. Little fuckers.”
She spits again, a sudden tremble consuming her body as the blood loss begins to hurt her.
“Haha, it stings… I was trying to find the demon who stabbed Hermann and made the man in the red hood his little slave. I cast spells all over the city, but, see, only in the mountain did I find magic I did not recognize… I know all the other sorcerers in the city, but there’s some kind of power up here, so I thought, it must be the demon. But he knew I was coming… I didn’t even tell Emmanuela that I was going…”
Anonymous asked: Hey, I mean, that’s understandable. That little motherfucker in the vest is dapper
“Dapper little motherfucker,” she says, rubbing her aching cheek against her shoulder, pulling against her ropes. “What sort of a demon calls itself Dapper? Sounds like a silly boy name. You’re making fun of me?”
Anonymous asked: dapper is the one with the moustache, but that's not his real name. we're on your side, here.
“Oh? He doesn’t use his real name? Dapper means something? If you’re really on my side, you should tell me his real name so I can curse him better.”
immabethehero asked: The demon in question is Anti. He's kidnapped and brainwashed a whole bunch of guys. The one in the vest is called Dapper, but his real name is Jameson.
“Oh, Jameson, huh? Pretty. I’ll fill his throat with razor blades once I get out of these goddamn ropes!”
She lets out a raw scream and tugs harder against them, disturbing a deep wound in her shoulder and hissing as blood comes flowing down. For the first time, she shows a flash of fear, hyperventilating for a second before she remembers herself and stays together.
Anonymous asked: his real name is Jameson Jackson, but Anti erased a lot of his (and the other boys’) memories about their past and their real names, so he might not respond to that name. You’re the magic expert here, thought.
“Tell me everything about this Jameson Jackson. Why does he keep the other men his prisoners? Why doesn’t he talk? Why does he have a mustache like a Frenchman from the 1930s? I’ll shave it off him. Fucker, little motherfucker.”
She pauses, trying to think of more English curse words.
“Dick,” she finishes confidently, nodding at you and flicking her hair out of her face.
Anonymous asked: Alright, let’s all chill out okay? We’re not here to patronize you. Dapper isn’t the demon. It’s Anti, the one that was most likely with him. And you must have pissed him off pretty bad too, which is great.
“Oh, oh, I piss him off? Here, tell him this, tell him he has pissed me off, and I will make him regret it, because I expect he will not like to have this chair shoved down his throat! Like I started this, huh? He’s the one stabbed my stupid idiot friend! And I love my stupid idiot friend! Motherfucker to the max!”
She rocks her chair and nearly tips over, giving a little shriek. After this, she needs a moment to recover, and sighs deeply, looking back at you.
“Okay, fine, but I think you understand why I am not ‘chill.’”
Anonymous asked: Jameson is mute. He dresses like he’s from the early 1900s, because he is. He can change the course of time with his abilities, so if something happens that he or Anti doesn’t like, it can be adjusted. And I’d advise you not to hurt him unless absolutely necessary out of defense, because you will absolutely be killed.
Genesis frowns, chewing on her lip, trying to distinguish between truths and lies.
“A very old demon, then… I will be careful… which I guess would have been a good note for before I came looking, but the Old Man says thinking ahead is not my strong suit. Or even a suit I fit into at all.”
Anonymous asked: Oh yeah, you’re totally right. But you also beat the shit out of our stupid idiot too so..we even? Can we talk now? Camera to woman, woman to camera?
“Hmmm.” She narrows her amber eyes at you. “Little camera elves… okay, yeah, we’re talking, aren’t we? Tell me who you are.”
Anonymous asked: Dap, Blue? What's happening?
“We’re just getting cleaned up,” Blue answers in a warm, soothing voice. “We’re doing just fine, just fine.”
You find him in the bathroom with Dap, getting himself soaked by holding Dapper up in the shower. They’ve stripped their little brother down to his boxers and Blue is running shampoo through his hair, massaging his scalp and turning the water around the drain a fine pink. Dok enters the bathroom with his first aid kit and Noodle in one hand, making Dap light up just a little.
Anonymous asked: You’re a good man Trick
Trick turns to give you a full and beautiful smile.
“Thank you,” he chirps, loading chicken and rice onto plates.
Anonymous asked: They’re telling you to listen to the woman, let her go. If you did then both Red and Trick would pay for it. Maybe instead you should try and learn something from her that you could use to save your family, Blue.
Blue washes Dapper’s face gently, deep in thought.
“Fuck, I wish I could know more about that girl,” he whispers. “Something about those people… I wish I could remember anything…”
He sighs, rubbing Dapper’s shoulders with the washcloth. “But it might be easier for you to talk to her than me.”
A moment passes and you expect him to be done, but then, just loud enough for you:
“I’m sorry I’m not of more use in this… please take care of my brothers in any way you can. My hands are so tightly bound…”
Anonymous asked: Don't worry, we want to help. We heard about your friend, Hermann. We're so sorry that he was hurt. What happened to him?
Genesis sinks slightly in on herself, her mouth falling.
“Mh, you’re sorry?”
She glares bitterly up at you for a second, but then she turns her gaze away, softening. It’s not you she’s mad at, in the end.
“He was very bad for a long time. What a miserable Christmas… he’s alive, still. He was asleep for so long. I hate seeing him like this. It’s like all the energy - zap, gone. And Hermann’s so stupid, you know, so he’s usually all full of energy. He’s like a dog that’s really excited to see you. Even if you’re like, okay, dog, you’re kind of annoying at first! Eventually the dog grows on you. And then the dumbass thing gets himself stabbed, and makes Christmas so shitty.”
She stares down at the floor, her lip trembling a little.
“He would notice that I’ve been gone… but probably Emmanuela and the Old Man will not.”
She pauses, alarmed, and sits up straight to glare at you again. “Don’t tell that stupid demon that, you little camera elves! You better not be lying about anything!”
Anonymous asked: Genesis, one of the boys, (Blue, former magician, great guy) feels like he recognizes a symbol on your wrist What is it? Did it mean anything?
Genesis stiffens, her eyes narrowing darkly. Her gaze flickers down to the band on her wrist - a leather strap with a raven etched into it, its beak open and its eye shaped like a jewel.
“It’s… nothing.” Her lips curls at you. “Just… a club. You don’t need to know!”
Anonymous asked: Hey, any go ahead from you is enough alright? Take care of the others and we’ll see what we can do
Blue looks relieved. He gives you a very shaky little smile.
“Okay… I can try to do that much.”
He’s never felt fonder of you.
florenceisfalling asked: woah, yeesh, we don't like the demon any more than you do.
“Oh.” She pauses, blinking at you. “No? You think so too? Motherfucker to the max?”
She puffs to get some of her hair out of her face. “Cut my goddamn ponytail out… you don’t work for him?”
Anonymous asked: genesis, four of them have powers, so it's unlikely you'll have an easy time getting out of this. please be careful, for your own sake, and theirs. the guys under anti's control will suffer if you fuck it up.
“Four of them have powers! Goddamn, goddamn! This sucks on ass! Damn! Well, I can take them!” She pauses, glancing around. “Really, I just need this knife out of my hand… then I could go home in a snap. Okay, four guys under the demon’s control?”
Anonymous asked: It's not the vest you should worry about - he's Dapper, by the way. Anti is the real problem here. We think we can help you, but can you tell us who you are?
She pauses, frowning. “But… the one in the vest came to find the one in the sweatshirt. He’s the one who stabbed Hermann.”
She blows air up onto her own face, miserably hot. “Oh, I’m cooking in this goddamn sun! This little garage is all metal! Who I am? My name is Genesis. You name just about any country on this continent and I’ve lived there. For work, I copy books in a library and stop catastrophes. What else you want, huh? I’m a Scorpio, okay? I have twenty-four years.”
Anonymous asked: Five, technically. He has no powers, just a gun and a kitten. Hell be out guarding you tonight. Maybe try talking to him later?
Genesis’s eyes light up, thinking. “So, okay. One of the little prisoners. A gun and a kitten? Tell me everything about him. Maybe I can convince him to let me go? Do you think?”
Anonymous asked: five total people under his control. dapper and blue have magic, but i don't think blue is allowed to use his. the others are normal. none of them are evil, just trapped with the demon.
“Five! Five, what sort of a monster! This shit must be why Hermann was so desperate to get involved! He kept talking about the twin gringos in the market, he was sure they were involved in something awful. Well, I hate to say it, but I guess he was right. Don’t tell him I said that. Shit, shit! He’s going to want to save them, isn’t he?”
She sighs out a deep breath.
“Okay, two magic boys, none of them are evil… according to you… how do you know none of them are evil? Tell me all about them.”
Anonymous asked: dapper isn't the demon, please don't try to mess with him - he's a victim, too. they all are, except the one who always glitches.
“Hmm.” She doesn’t look convinced. “Why can’t they both be demons, huh? I can smell the power on them and they look like brothers.”
nikkilbook asked: Have you seen the other one? The one that can change his shape and control the others?
“I saw the one in the vest and the one with two different colors of eyes.”
florenceisfalling asked: they're not evil because they don't choose to hurt anyone. they're a family, they used to have normal lives, jobs, and kids. they try their best to take care of each other and be kind, but they're super brainwashed. only one of them is a demon - there's power on dapper, but he's just a time traveler. he doesn't have any other powers that we know of.
Genesis stares down at the ground for a long time. She’s beginning to wear down. Dapper’s star bleeds gently down her cheek.
“I don’t know,” she says. “Lots of bad people have families. Lots of bad people have normal lives. Or even if they were good once… don’t you think, sometimes, when enough bad things happen to you, part of you just… becomes… bad too?”
She looks up at you, her eyes dark. “Listen,” she says. “I’m sorry. But I’ll do what I have to to get out of here. I hope you understand that.”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Blue, did you used to belong to a club of some kind?
Blue washes the sticky blood out of Dapper’s hands, cleaning each finger. “A club? I don’t know. I don’t remember much before Anti. Figments is all. Luckily that stuff wasn’t important.”
Dapper sniffles, rubbing at his face wearily. Blue beams at him, trying to encourage him to move.
“How we doing now, sweetie?”
“Ghosts,” mumble Dapper’s hands. “Ghosts.”
“I know, buddy. I know.”
“Not reacting well to anything,” murmurs Dok, a hand on Blue’s shoulder. And then, louder, “Here, Dap, have some water.”
nikkilbook asked: Red, will something bad happen if you fall asleep?
Red is lying like he’s already asleep in his bed, his hair mussed all over the place and his eyes dull, but stubbornly still slitted open. Eventually he shivers and looks away from you, breathing deep.
“No,” he mumbles. “I’m just being a baby.”
bupine asked: red, it's ok for you to sleep. i'm sure nothing too bad can happen in a few hours :D unless anti told you you couldn't?
“No, I can, I can,” whimpers Red, clutching at his hair. “No, nothing bad will happen, nothing… just feels like it… don’t… you don’t have to watch over me…”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Someone needs to watch over you, Red. You aren't completely alone in this.
“Please,” snorts Red. “Like I want anybody to see me like this. Like Blue doesn’t have enough to deal with now that I can’t even… now that I can’t even…”
He trails off, his mouth very tight. The chain around his ankle drags loudly as he readjusts.
bupine asked: we're just trying to see if you're ok, red. you haven't been yourself lately, everything in the house seems so much more strained. how long has dapper been hurting that woman, do u know? he's so shaken up and keeps talking about seeing ghosts
“Fuck, damn,” Red hisses, covering his face. “Anti will be so angry… Dok can’t seem to find the right stuff to level him out again after his medicine was messed up. He’s super clingy and shaky. Anti will be so angry… I’m worried it’s not just hallucinations… fuck.
“We just found that woman this morning, though. I think Anti is trying to find out where she comes from and how he can find the other person. He’s still angry someone tried to steal me away.”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Do you have any suspicions as to why they would have taken you, Red?
Red cringes, his mouth beginning to tremble.
“They think Anti or Dapper or Blue is some sort of demon… and I bet they think I’m bad too for fighting that man… and if they get their hands on me again they’ll probably…”
He clutches at his shoulders, curling in on himself, his teeth gritted very tight in his mouth.
“This is almost as bad as being asleep,” he groans, rubbing his face back and forth against his mattress.
Anonymous asked: Is he alright?
Blue helps a trembling Dapper back to his feet, fetching him a towel as he steps out of the shower, though all he does is pull it around his shoulders like a blanket and hide from you. Blue adjusts accordingly, getting a second towel to start drying him off himself.
“Yeah, we’re okay, aren’t we, bud?” soothes Blue.
Dap doesn’t answer. His face is twitching.
“Aren’t we, Dok?” asks Blue, turning to him.
Dok gives him a worried glance, biting down on his lip.
Blue hisses out a curse under his breath even as he turns to offer Dapper a big warm smile, toweling his hair playfully. “Something has to change,” you hear him whisper to Dok. “This environment is too much stress for him.”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Dok? Do you have anything to help Red sleep? He'd super on edge..
Dok pales a little, turning his eyes from you. “Trust me, Red doesn’t want anything from me. Nothing I can do about it.”
“He won’t sleep hardly at all,” whispers Blue.
“Maybe you could try giving him some melatonin.”
“He wakes up screaming every time.”
“I know, we hear him across the house. I don’t know why Anti doesn’t - ”
“Shhh, Dok, sh, careful…”
They fall silent again. Whistling reaches them as Trick comes down the hallway with chicken and rice and bright yellow sodas piled up in his arms.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Do any of you boys want to keep Red company? Maybe he needs a friend.
Dok shakes his head vigorously, and Trick nods along with his twin almost without thinking about it, setting up a late lunch in their room.
“Don’t ask us,” Dok tells you emphatically, putting a hand over his aching skull. “Most of the time he won’t even have Blue.”
Blue’s mouth has gone very thin. He glances back towards his and Red’s room again and again, but he doesn’t go to him. He’s been yelled at enough for today.
“Why’s J - happy - sad?” asks Dap, snuffling and shivering in his towel.
Dok and Blue frown and exchange looks.
“What was that sign, honey?”
“J - happy. Why sad?”
Dok blinks. Blue chews on his lip, shaking his head.
Dapper frowns at the two of them, blinking his eyes, confused.
Anonymous asked: i think he means red.
“Do you mean Red, buddy?” asks Dok, pulling him into their room.
“Red?”
Dok sighs and sits him down. Blue watches from the doorway, his eyes flickering nervously from Dapper to Red’s room.
bupine asked: j-happy? could be a personal sign dapper made up for red. he's seemingly a bit delirious right now, he's maybe not thinking right and forgot red's name?
“You know Dapper has his confused days,” Trick points out, already popping a bite of chicken in his mouth. “Remember that time he thought somebody had kidnapped him?”
Dapper frowns down at the ground, blinking slowly.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dap, do you remember everyone's names?
“Who’s everyone?”
“Okay,” snaps Blue, shaking his head. “Enough talking about this. Eat your chicken, Dap-Dap. Look, your brothers even brought you fancy sodas. Yum, huh? Good to get some sugar in you.”
Anonymous asked: *whispers* do you mean jackie, dapper?
“Connection must be real buggy,” muses Trick, popping the cap off a soda. “Can barely make some of these out.”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dok? Is Dapper being this delirious normal?
Doktor glances nervously at the camera, reaching out to pet Dapper’s hair, uncharacteristically affection. You see him give a tiny headshake.
“Delusional, not delirious. But we just need to figure your medicine out,” he croaks, looking suddenly exhausted. “Wish we could just go back to the Haldol, huh, bud?”
Dapper tilts his head sorrowfully against his hand, looking up at him.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Red? Why don't you let someone keep you company? At least until you fall asleep?
“Oh, come on,” he scoffs, turning his back on you. “You really think the others are supposed to see me like this?”
There’s a long pause.
“Anti… nearly stopped Blue from sleeping with me anymore… we don’t talk, during the night… he says he’ll muzzle me if I do…”
nikkilbook asked: Guys, please don’t do this to him. Not again. You’ve all got each other—he needs you, too. Remember kindness, please. Red needs you. Jackie needs you.
Trick curls his lip up, stabbing at his chicken and looking over at Dok, who only frowns back. Dapper stares between his brothers, frowning and waiting for someone to talk, but nobody does.
Blue won’t meet the camera’s gaze. His hands tremble too badly for him to hold his fork.
“Can’t help someone who won’t let you,” he tells you finally, in a voice like a white flag.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Is there a way you could secretly get him back on the haldol?
“I tried putting him back on the Haldol,” Dok explains, his face falling. “But something about the Risperdal messed it up, and I had to wean him off that, and then I tried putting him back on the Haldol slow, but it wasn’t working, and he was having really bad hallucinations, so I tried something really strong, but he was having horrible dizziness, so he couldn’t even walk, so I had to take him off that slow, and now we’re trying something new - ”
“Dok, Dok.” Trick reaches out to grab his wrist and Doktor stops, burying his face in his hands. “Dude, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re going to figure it out.”
Doktor doesn’t answer. Dapper stares up at Blue, bewildered, but all Blue can do is pull him close and rub his shoulders, pressing their heads together.
reverseblackholeofwords asked: Red, you know we're watching out for you, and your brothers won't let anyone take you or hurt you. You're protected and loved, and I know it doesn't feel like that now. But you just have to remind yourself that it's true.
Exhausted, Red lies still against his mattress, blinking slowly at you as he tries not to fall asleep. But there’s something warm and reassuring about the message, and even if it feels like his brothers are a continent away, he tries to take some comfort in it as it swirls around his head again and again.
Protected and loved… fuck, what he wouldn’t give… hell, but he’s tired…
Anonymous asked: uhhh trick, is red still awake or sleeping?
Trick glances nervously over at you, but consents to your request and gets up to check. He slinks carefully to the door of his room and peers out and into Red’s, hiding slightly behind the door.
Red is curled up in silence, breathing deep and slow, his eyes closed.
“Looks like,” he whispers, drawing away again.
“Give it fifteen minutes on the screaming,” mumbles Dok, sipping his soda. There’s something very dark in his gaze.
“Really? I give him… an hour and a half!”
“What are we betting?”
“Boys,” snaps Blue, his face furious. Trick and Dok avert their gaze meekly, returning to each other’s sides. Trick puts his head down on Dok’s shoulder and hums, too pre-occupied by the fact that it makes Dok smile to notice Blue hiding his hands beneath his shirt, his face stark white.
Anonymous asked: Genesis, do you know the name Marvin?
Genesis is already shaking her head back and forth on the camera, trying to keep herself steady and awake. She breathes out slow breaths, losing color and draining blood.
“Marvin? Oh, no… I don’t know, I don’t think so…”
Anonymous asked: Say what you're thinking, Blue.
“I think these little hooligans know exactly what I mean,” grumbles Blue, making the twins shrivel beneath his gaze, guilty smiles on their mouths.
“Sorry, Blue,” says Trick with a winning grin. “We were just teasing.”
“Making fun of nightmares is not teasing, boys.”
Trick and Dok exchange looks with a cold note of apathy in them. Trick’s hand falls subconsciously to rest on a dark bruise on Doktor’s wrist.
Anonymous asked: Blue, seriously, you need to talk to someone about whatever it is that’s happening with your hands. Ignoring it will only make it worse and probably harder to fix. It’s okay to need help sometimes.
“It’s fine, it’s fine!” cries Blue, clutching them together beneath his shirt, despite a blue light seeping through his clothes. Dok and Trick look up, alarmed. “I know the rules, I’m not trying to break them! It’s already my fault those people found us! I have to keep it under control!”
“Blue,” say Trick and Dok at the same time. Trick leans forward with his hands out-stretched, while Dok is already getting to his feet. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, nothing, it’s nothing!”
“Show me,” demands Dok, kneeling down beside him and grabbing at his hands. “Show me, now.”
“Please, Dok - ”
But Dapper is up on his knees too, reaching out to help drag his hands away. Dok grits his teeth hard, glaring down at the injured fingers and palms.
Blue’s hands are redder than his twin’s hair and they tremble so hard it must be painful. Skin flakes off them in peeling patches, like a bad sunburn, and blood is welling, for a reason Dok cannot fathom, from beneath the fingernails.
“What is this,” asks Doktor flatly. “Red did this to you.”
“No! Dok, it’s just - it’s just - it’s just power!”
“Your power is a part of you, same as Dapper’s, and his never hurts him like this. Does it? No. Why is this happening?”
“Because he hasn’t casted in months,” says Dap, but no one’s looking at him - except Blue, who boxes him off from Trick and Dok’s view and makes him scowl.
“It’s just because of the memory loss,” he chokes, suddenly rising to his feet. “I forgot how to use it right. I need to figure it out on my own, thank you. I think I want a nap, too, you’ll excuse me.”
“Blue!” cry Trick and Dok, in tandem for the second time.
“I said, you’ll excuse me,” snarls Blue, whirling on them, and suddenly he and Red really do look like twins, in more ways than one.
Trick and Dok fall silent, staring at the floor, the fight gone out of them.
Blue vanishes down the hall.
Trick leans down to kiss the dark bruise on Doktor’s wrist, and then over to kiss Dapper too, just for good measure, trying to get the look of utter confusion off his poor little brother’s face.
nikkilbook asked: Red doesn’t seem like he’s the one making the decisions here. Do you know about the muzzle?
“Fuck, don’t say that word!” cries Dok, looking horrified. Trick cringes and blushes bright red at his side, turning his face away from him and dropping his twin’s wrist.
“What an awful thing! Anti used to use that when Trick was still under the old master’s control! Don’t mention such a thing, oh, dear… For Red? Oh, dear… well, maybe that’s why he’s been such a motherfucker to deal with lately…”
Trick is covering his face with his hands, tomato red.
Anonymous asked: Blue, I think you know Genesis, and she's bleeding out. Is there any way you can sneak out and go see her?
You find Blue again in his room, panting on the other side of the room from Red, curled in on himself. He signs to be quiet.
“What, so I can get the shit beat out of me by my twin?” he asks, tears coursing down his cheeks. Grief and rage twist up his whole face. “If you really want to talk to her, Dok and Trick will be out together to guard her soon. I’m so fucking tired.”
He pauses, trying to take a deep breath or two.
“Is she… really bleeding out? I don’t know what you mean about knowing her.”
immabethehero asked: She was symbols on her similiar to a pack of cards. Does that remind you of anything?
“She does?”
Blue gets up uncertainly and tilts his head at Red’s computer, wondering if he can catch a glimpse of the girl on the security camera.
“Where? I only saw the sigil on her wrist.”
Anonymous asked: Genesis, is there something, anything you can tell us about your club? We think our friend was in it once, and we need to jog his memory. He might trust you if he knows even the smallest thing!
Genesis snorts and closes her eyes, turning away.
“I’ve said enough already! I bet the demon can see this, huh?”
She sighs and eventually turns back to you, frowning. “If he really knows something about it, he should have a… club…”
She sighs. “Okay, it’s called an ‘order.’ He should have a national order he belongs to. Otherwise he’s a rogue cast, which would be why his signal was picked up unregistered in the area anyway.”
immabethehero asked: It's a band on her wrist. A leather strap with a raven etched into it, its beak open and its eye shaped like a jewel.
Blue pauses. Even his hands are stilled for a moment. He stares at the floor.
“With… a jewel for an eye?”
immabethehero asked: I'm not sure. Do you have a club, anywhere on you?
“A club? I have card symbols on my ankle. Club, spade, diamond, heart.”
He shows you his tattooed ankle beneath his jeans.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Maybe we can try to phrase it differently....did you know a sorcerer of some kind who had an affinity for nature stuff? Marvin here, who goes by Blue, can make flowers grow with ease with his emotions. At least, he used to...
Genesis raises her eyebrows. “Sounds like a pretty power. Which hand does he cast with? Marvin, huh? What country he is from?”
Anonymous asked: Genesis says she was in something called an "order," and you would have a club on you. See? You're connected!
“Did she say I would have a club on me? I thought these were just my power symbols. Anti likes me to hide them. I don’t know what she would know about me.”
He pulls slightly away from you again, catching sight of Red and remember his mistrust.
“I don’t like her! She tried to take Red from me!”
immabethehero asked: Genesis!! The blue haired man, called Blue, has a club, spade, heart and diamond tattooed on his ankle!!!
“Oh, cool. I don’t know anything about that. What’s a spade? That isn’t what I meant when I said he might be in a club, but I always believed that coincidences must mean something, yes?”
nikkilbook asked: I thought you were angry with Red.
“Oh, so I should let him be fucking abducted?” scowl Blue’s hands. He whirls away from you, sulking.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Genesis, he has a tattoo of card suits on his ankle. He's European of some kind.
She shrugs. “Europe is big. But organizations out there are close-knit - I am surprised he is not registered with an order, or was never caught by those who prevent catastrophe. Magicians do not really function alone, or hardly ever. They are at least known to the national order, and usually a part of it.”
immabethehero asked: As in card symbols, Genesis! He has all four tattooe on his ankle!!! His real name is Marvin the Magnificent, btw.
Genesis shrugs at you, her mouth tilted into a frown. “Doesn’t mean anything to me.”
Anonymous asked: Yes, she's in really bad shape. Maybe you don't "know" her personally, but you might have some kind of connection to her. I know this is scary, but you're so strong. You can help her.
Blue keeps his back turned to you for a long time.
Like he’s waging some war with himself.
“I know about a bird with a jewel eye,” he says finally, aloud, but in a tiny, croaking voice. “But I… I can’t be like her, can I?”
He covers his face with his hands, trying to breathe. “What if Anti sees my - what if Anti realizes I’m connected to her and - and - and strings me up too? What if I do belong to some sort of horrible order that tries to steal people away from their families? I don’t… I don’t remember, I didn’t mean…”
He fidgets with the hem of his shirt, stroking his right shoulder.
nikkilbook asked: I suspect he uses both hands to cast, given that both hands are raw and bleeding because he hasn’t cast in months. He also uses poetry as focus words.
“Both hands?” Genesis sits up straight, staring at you with wide, excited eyes. “Like a really powerful sorcerer! Oh, poetry, like a real traditionalist!”
nikkilbook asked: Blue, I think a distinction needs to be made that she and her friends were trying to steal someone away from a demon, not their family. She calls them “the ones who prevent catastrophe.”
Blue whitens, staring at you.
“I don’t… know why I know that phrase.”
He stalks away, staring at the wall, picking at his shoulder.
Anonymous asked: Genesis? How are you holding up? We want to help you, and the boys that Antis captured. Can you tell us anything so we can do that?
She sighs, closing her eyes. “I’ll be fine, okay? I’m tough, you know, good blood in me. Strong heart and all, no sweat. Just a little blood is all. Damn. I don’t know how you can help - I need to tell the rest of my order to come help. They could maybe stop the demon… except there’s only a few of us, and he seems to have such a tight grip. Tell your magician boy that if he would cast something strong, strong enough to overcome the way the demon has been trying to hide him, the Order would be alerted and could come.”
badlypostedeverything asked: They've all been emotionally abused and manipulated into depending on Anti (The bad one). They think that he loves them, and are unwilling to hurt him in any way, however they are not bad people
“Anti,” she repeats softly.
“That’s the bad one, then? You’re truthful?”
She stares at the wall, thinking.
“What… is he? To control so many people enough that they believe this? Your boys are in a bad tangle, little camera elves… this is a great deal of power, hidden up here in this mountain.”
florenceisfalling asked: lots of bad people had families and lives, but CHOSE cruelty instead. these people didn't choose this. they just want to be safe again. and if you try to leave without helping them - helping undo what the demon's done - you're probably gonna get your ass kicked.
Genesis sighs. “I think I already did. It’s not that I don’t want to help - it’s just, I’m not sure I can.”
Anonymous asked: Well at least you’ve still got a sense of humour. And no, dapper is Antis guard dog at this point. Anti doesn’t like getting his hands dirty so he uses Dapper to do the work for him, and really anyone else.
“Okay, the little man in the vest - he’s good news, just controlled? What a dick he acts like. Like my skin is a canvas. Little fucker. Very well, I’ll forgive him if he can break free.”
immabethehero asked: Genesis, the guy with the hair is a magician with magic. His real name's Marvin the Magnificent!!! He used to have a mask with different card symbols before Anti screwed him over and brainwashed him
“The guy with the hair! Haha, are most of them bald? Okay, Marvin the magnificent magician.”
Anonymous asked: We're only trying to help you. If you're gonna get out of here, you'e going to have to know what you're dealing with. And Jameson is the LEAST of your worries, I promise. And we're really sorry about Hermann.
“Oh, thank you. Yes… I’m glad he survived. We weren’t sure, for a while there. He’s… he’s like a brother to me, really. Dumb boy…”
Cest-mellow asked: jameson isn’t the demon! none of them are demons except anti. if you want to kill someone, it should be anti. he has them all as his “little slaves” just how you saw the man in the red hood. all of them are brainwashed and hurt. anti made jameson torture you, and hell probably make him do a lot worse if you’re not careful. Five anons and immabethehero made similar points and were added.
Genesis shakes her head, disoriented by all the messages. “Hell, how many camera elves are there? Damn, okay, thank you, this helps, this - I’m sorry, time traveler?”
She pauses for a long time, staring at the wall.
“You know what,” she says, a little white. “Maybe obvious, but uhhh… I’m starting to think I’m in real trouble.”
Anonymous asked: You've never spoken to her, Blue, you can't know if you don't like her. Don't you know she probably has people she cares about, too? Her friend, Hermann, is hurt and she wants to take care of him. She keeps mentioning friends that she hopes are looking for her. You have to know what that feels like. Give her a chance.
“Oh, she… she really has friends? That could be dangerous, right, that… I guess she must be angry Dap stabbed her friend, though… I guess I get that…”
immabethehero asked: There is no resting for you guys, is there? Maybe you just leave Anti?
“I love Anti, I love Anti, I love Anti,” chant Blue’s hands, as he paces around the room, his fingers clenched tight together. “I love him, I love him. Blue, stop thinking.”
Anonymous asked: She says Hermann is like her brother.
“Aww.” Blue reaches for his heart as though touched, only to yank his hand away again, eyes wide. “No, I don’t care!”
nikkilbook asked: Blue, what’s wrong with your shoulder? Are you all right?
“It’s just a tattoo, right? It doesn’t have to mean anything! It doesn’t have to mean anything about her or me or anything. It’s just a tattoo. It’s just a coincidence. It’s just a bird! Right?”
Anonymous asked: Wait everyone hold up, this is great and all, finding someone who is sane and could help out, but how do we know that she’s the real deal? That she won’t go and kill the boys once she knows enough? I mean Antis fine but what about the others
“Yeah, exactly, exactly!” Blue clings too it, eyes too bright. “She’ll bring more people back, they’ll hunt us down, beat my baby brothers like they beat Red, steal us away, away, kill us! She’s bad, like Anti said! And I’m not like her!”
Anonymous asked: Ma’am, we’re sorry, but you have to calm down. No one is going to hurt you alright? Nothing gets said to the demon, this is all between us. You have our word, is that enough for now?
She sighs. Shrugs. Weary.
“We’re talking, aren’t we? That’s all I can promise for now.”
Anonymous asked: You do care, Blue! You care! You're angry, and sad, and you're full of love and poetry. Stop holding it in! The world deserves to see the Magnificence of you! Let it out!
Blue licks at his mouth, frantic.
“Fuck, but my hands hurt,” he sobs, making Red stir. “Fuck, but I want this to stop!”
Anonymous asked: Blue. Marvin. We need you to do a really big favor for us, and you're not gonna like the sound of it, but we promise you can trust us, okay?
Blue stares at you, eyes blown wide. Clenching and unclenching his hands.
Anonymous asked: hush. just tell me your favorite poem, blue.
Blue closes his eyes.
“Not that,” whisper his hands. “Red will be punished. He promised Anti… he promised Anti I would stop casting… I’ve held this back for so long, I can last, I can last…”
He sinks down to his knees. Staring at Red.
You remember, from a long time ago, hearing Anti call his twin system a failsafe.
Anonymous asked: We genuinely want to help, Genesis. The only reason we know anything that's going on is because Anti thinks it's funny. We know who the boys used to be and he wants us to see how he's stripped their identities away. It's his sick way of proving he's "won" but they're still here and so are we. So we help them however we can. And right now you're our best option.
She nods slowly. “So even you, too, are kept here by the demon’s cruelty… But I am just one woman. I think you are underestimating how much power it will take to be freed of a creature like this… I’ve heard only snippets of legends about monsters that steal love like this. Either you must get the boys away from the monster forever, or you must see that every single one of them turns their back on it, so the demon cannot be made strong by their control, and turn them against each other. It will take either a great external force to steal them away and keep them hidden for the rest of their lives, or an even great act of revolution from within each of these men he has made into slaves.”
Anonymous asked: this is how you save him, blue.
Blue stares at the floor, breathing in, and out.
“From… Anti?”
Anti’s guard dog is asleep at his feet. Anti’s ears are closed with Red’s eyes.
Blue stares down at the old scars on Red’s face. At the chain around his ankle.
In the other room, he can hear Trick and Dok chatting, light and happy, occasionally pausing to reassure their confused little brother of whatever’s upsetting them. They feast on chicken and soda pop, because most of the time, Anti doesn’t give them the spare change it takes to buy sugar.
Blue licks at his lips.
Anonymous asked: We try, Genesis, but the minute we have one, we lose him again. Anti can just take them away whenever he wants, and they love him. We're scared we can never help them. That's why we're so hopeful to meet you. Something new needs to happen.
“Yes,” she murmurs. “Yes, I’m sure, especially if a long time they have been under his control… it might take you a long time yet. Maybe we can get them away from the monster - if not forever, at least long enough for them to find themselves again. Damn, this is the sort of thing Hermann loves… he would know all about it, if I could get them back to him. Spells for purity and strength and resilience. They could band together there, and be able to fight him, but… the truth is… there are only a few of us at the base right now… the Old Man does not fight anymore, and Hermann is injured… I fear it will only be me and Nicholas and Emmanuela. Maybe one or two others, if they’ve stopped in.”
She sighs. “Your boys are very badly tangled up.”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Blue, what's a little poetry going to do? Or hum a tune. Get your mind off of the pain, or get away from red and the others to let a little bit of the magic out.
“Not now,” he whispers finally. “Not now. Let the others fall asleep, so Anti will know it’s not there fault. Let it be mine alone…
“I can wait… just a few more hours. I can get everything ready, so, when I’m gone, they’ll still be okay.”
His face has gone very white.
But there is an old, familiar light in there.
“You’ll tell them I loved them, won’t you?”
He staggers towards the door, as if a weight stands on his shoulders - no, as if it has been taken off, after sitting there for so long it makes him unbalanced to be gone.
“I, um… I need to…”
What does he need to do? What can he do to caretake?
“Fresh water,” he mumbles, gathering up the jugs in the kitchen. “I need to get them fresh water…”
Anonymous asked: You're so brave. We love you. And you'll tell them yourself.
Marvin smiles at you, just for a second.
nova-cryptid asked: Genesis, a little while ago, when we mentioned the bird with the gem eye you have, Marvin starting picking at his shoulder, and when we asked him what was wrong he started rambling about how, and I quote “it was just a tattoo, right?” and “it didn’t have to mean anything about me or her” eventually saying (at this point he seemed worried almost) “it’s just a bird! Right?” I think maybe Marvin could have the same or a similar tattoo on his shoulder, but I’m not completely sure.
“Oh? Well, why you are asking me, then? Make him take his shirt off. Damn, I wish this was under a more fun context. You should make my guard boy take his shirt off too. What do you say?”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Dok? You and Trick can take care of each other, right?
Dok and Trick sit up from where they were trying to coax Dapper to eat more, alarm in their faces.
“Um… yeah,” Trick laughs nervously. “Why do you… why do you ask? Is someone angry?”
Doktor’s getting to his feet, glancing around the house, worry on his mouth.
Anonymous asked: Marvin? How are you holding up, buddy?
“It’s weird how much better I feel just thinking about it… ending.”
Blue stares down at his hands as he scoops up bottle after bottle and jug after jug. You don’t know how he’ll carry it all when it’s full. It will take him two trips without his twin. He’s been doing it every day since Red was sent to get Anti that book.
“I think I’ll wait til… til tonight, and try and get far from Red, so Anti will maybe… fuck, I hope he doesn’t punish him, I…”
Blue chews on his lip, nervous.
“I’d just like this to end,” he sighs, rubbing his trembling hands. “Without hurting anyone. I wish Anti would just… but forget it. I can’t ask him to be something he’s not. This is just how it has to be.”
Anonymous asked: Don’t leave a note Blue, and go as soon as possible. Dapper isn’t in great shape to time travel right now. Be safe.
“Shit, do you think Dap will be in trouble too? What if he gets sick trying to turn back, or he’s too freaked out and Anti hurts him? My poor baby.”
Blue’s anxiety has shot up and he pauses in the doorway, staring back at the room of the brothers he’s started to think of as triplets more than anything else.
“They’re so good,“ he whimpers. “I don’t know how they stay so good in all this. All they ever do is look after each other. Oh, I can’t leave my little brothers, that’s - that’s my job, that’s my only job, to look after them, to take care of them! That’s your job, Blue!”
Anonymous asked: Nothing, boys. Tensions are high right now, we’re just concerned for you guys.
Dok retreats nervously from the doorway, wishing he still had a door to hide behind.
Trick tries to keep his voice light. They’ve been through a hundred days and nights like this.
“Hey, Dok, read us a story or something, man. He can recite shit, did you guys know that? Dapper, pick a story.”
“New book,” Dapper insists, pointing at Dok’s mattress, where the little gold book Trick bought him in Norway rests.
“New? I’ve read it a hundred times,” chuckles Dok, turning back to them.
“New to me! No ghosts.”
“It’s your favorite anyway, Dok-Dok.”
“Okay, okay,” laughs Dok, picking it up. “Lie down with me. The Bridge of San Luis Rey, by Thornton Wilder. Part One: Perhaps an Accident…”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: They don't really have a choice to be good, Blue....Keep in mind, Anti doesn't give them a choice.
“Excuse me! Don’t have a choice to be good? They’re the best - the most caring - they’re - they’re perfect!”
It’s possible he has some blind spots in his little brother vision.
“Even when Anti’s mad, and Red’s mad, and I’m being a dick too, just to make it worse, and Dapper’s struggling and Trick’s tired and Dok’s hurting, they still just - they still just - ”
Blue might cry. He wipes furiously at his face, his hands over his heart.
“They don’t deserve… oh, I need this to stop, something has to change…”
bupine asked: blue, i really don't think you should leave by yourself. anti will take it out on the othwrothers. you gotta find an opportunity for you all to leave or everything's gonna end up just like last time
“I’m just going to go refill the water, sheesh… and tonight I won’t go so far Anti won’t find me.
Wait, you guys didn’t want me to run away, did you?”
badlypostedeverything asked: The best you can do for them is to go. They'll be alright, we'll look after them for you
“You did!” accuses Blue, reddening. “I - I can’t believe - you never stop, do you? I’d never leave my family behind! Not… not while there was still air in my lungs.”
Anonymous asked:
Um, yes, we thought so? Blue, what were you planning to do?
Blue stares at you, dismayed.
“’A little poetry,’ you said. ‘Genesis is your best chance,’ you said. I just need to get some of this hurt out of my hands…”
Anonymous asked: Oh, so leaving them forever was the better option? From the outside you could help them! Don't lose faith now, Marvin, you're so close!
“You know what, I don’t remember much, but I’m getting a sense of deja vu right now. Haven’t you tried to convince me to go on my own before? How’d that work out for you?”
Anonymous asked: What?? No, that's not what we meant! Do you really think we'd ever want you to hurt yourself? Of course not! We wanted you to be free! We want you to help your brothers get free, and you can't do that from the inside!
“No! Not - have you been listening - I would never abandon them! Never, never, not even if it was the death of me! On the outside? Of what? Don’t you understand what I’m trying to stop is just this… this… this anger! This hurt in my hands!”
He cries out and drops his bottles as his fingers tighten up again, and this time, to your alarm, you realize his hands are not the only thing glowing. He wails on the side of the mountain, clutching at a chest burning bright blue.
“Hot, hot,” he chokes, gripping at the dirt. Flowers burst up beneath his fingers. “Why won’t Anti let me cast? Why won’t he let me cast? I thought you wanted me to do what the girl asked and let this power go so her friends would see, and maybe they could stop some of this fucking anger in my family! I want them to stop Red from hitting everyone and Anti from hurting us anymore! I don’t want to leave anybody behind! I - fuck, this burns!”
He crumples over his hands with a shriek, grass exploding from beneath his palms.
“I wasn’t talking about leaving!” he shouts. “I was talking about this power fucking killing me!”
bupine asked: i'm glad you're not planning to leave at least, it's a bad idea to leave your brothers. be careful with your magic please, marvin, don't catch anti's attention
“I’m trying, I’m trying, just a little while longer,” he moans, dragging himself back to his feet as the light subsides, sweat dripping down his forehead. “I need to get this fucking power out, I need, I need… oh, I have to get my boys their water…”
Anonymous asked: Okay, okay! Okay. We're sorry, Blue. I guess we misunderstood each other. If that's what you'd rather do, we support you, but don't back down. If you do that, there's gonna be a fight to come.
“Already a fight,” mumbles Blue. “Dealing with Red and Anti lately is a fucking warzone. I’m not going to watch Dap get slapped one more time.”
Anonymous asked: HOW is that any different from leaving, Marvin?
“I don’t want to die,” he chokes. “I just need to get this power out, and you’re the ones who told me I should use the poetry to do what the girl asked. She said strong enough magic would break through Anti’s hiding us, didn’t she? And you told me I should cast like that. You wanted me to bring the girl’s friends to us, didn’t you? Why would I possibly just leave?”
Anonymous asked: You're the strongest of them, Blue. You can protect them from anything. That's why we believe in you so much. We're sorry that we upset you.
“It’s not your fault, it’s just this fucking magic eating me alive, and Anti treats me like I’m… like I’m some kind of bomb… the way he looks at me lately, it’s almost like he doesn’t even love me anymore. He gets this strange look in his eyes… ever since Red brought him that book. It’s like he’s… I don’t know, like he’s hungry.”
whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: What book blue
“Oh. That’s what Anti sent Red to kill that man for, I guess. Some big old ugly book with a raven on it. Ever since he let Red sleep in prison and he got that book, he’s cooped up in his room all day pouring over it. Barely even seems interested in Dap, lately… I’m worried about him. And he’s scaring me…”
reverseblackholeofwords asked: What book did Red get?
“Yeah, I don’t know what Anti wants with a book? My little brother isn’t exactly the scholarly type, right? Haha. Hopefully it’s just… I… I don’t know…”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Genesis? Can you explain to us what relevance a book with the symbol on your bracelet on it night have?
Genesis looks up, surprised. “A book from our library, you mean?”
Anonymous asked: i'm no expert but i do not think this is wholesome literature we are talking about my guy
“No? You don’t think so?” Blue grins weakly at you, trying to joke. “It’s not Pride and Prejudice? I think he could really benefit from that one…”
bupine asked: hold on, what book did red bring anti? (did i just forget this or has it not yet been mentioned fgdghddghdd)
“They’re talking about a book too,” Dapper interrupts Dok’s reading, tapping on his camera, picking up a stray signal. “What’s the matter, guys?”
bupine asked: genesis, i think anti, the demon, has a book from your library. how bad is that on a scale from one to ten
Genesis stares at you.
For like… a really long time.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: I think so? It has the raven symbol on it, and they kept saying it was a "big ugly book" that the demon hasn't let go of since one of the boys got back from jail.
“Can’t be,” she whispers, though her face grows ever whiter. “You don’t understand what’s in those books… we guard them with our lives. He would have had to kill one of my friends to get something like that. Can’t be… in a demon’s hands…”
immabethehero asked: RECITE DR. SUESS BLUE AND TAKE ANTI LIKE THAT
Blue snorts, shaking his head, confused. “Am I going to soften my most murderous little brother up with Green Eggs and Ham, is that what you’re telling me? Haha?”
immabethehero asked: NO WaIT BLUE RECITE SHEL SILVERSTEIN
“No, that guy’s the real demon… look at that face… terrifying!” Blue grins and crouches down by the water spigot in the middle of the community, beginning to fill up his water bottles for his family.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Marvin, he doesn't love any of you. Anti is just using you guys.
Blue startles, unused to the brashness. After a moment, he fixes you with a glare and turns away a little snobbishly.
A little teary-eyed.
Anonymous asked: yes, from Anti. this is how you save all of them, Marv.
“He’s not so bad,” whispers Blue, rubbing at his face. “I mean… sometimes he is… but so is Red, sometimes. I just… I just think we need a little help. It’s not a betrayal of him, is it? I have to protect my family. I’m… the caretaker. That’s your job, Blue… like that night Dapper stabbed Anti to protect me… it wasn’t a betrayal… he’s just… too angry, sometimes, and I don’t know how to make him stop anymore…”
Anonymous asked: Marv, the best thing you can do for them right now is get away as soon as you can. They're strong, don't worry. It's going to be okay.
“I’ll call for help,” he assures you softly, closing his eyes. “I’ll try… I hope that Genesis girl isn’t lying that her friends will help us.”
Anonymous asked: you can do it, Marvin!
He chuckles, warming a little. “Thanks, guys.”
Anonymous asked: We know Blue, we know. Trust us, this will help you and them. You can do it, for their sake.
“Yeah, yeah… I have to look out for all of us. Anti needs help too. We’ll all be happier if we can balance out again. Like those first few days I remember… we were so happy… he promised me, you know… he promised me I’d be happy.”
Blue straightens up, hauling gallons of water into his arms. He stands on the edge of that mountain as tall as he can, feeling like a lone star without his twin next to him… chained up at home like a dog…
“Has to stop,” he mumbles. “Something has to change.”
He stares out over the mountain, down the shifting, dangerous dusty road that has scraped his knees a hundred times, across the shed-like one-room houses where this resilient people make their home, many of whom have shown him and his family kindness, across the little bar down the road where Dok and Trick helped deliver a new baby just this morning. The other side of the mountain is lush and private, but he does not look there, has no love for that locked off side of the mountain where the people could eat if anyone would let them.
Blue hums a song that sounds like an Easter hymn for the hope in it.
Down his mountainside is the city, huge and wonderful, with every color bustling around the streets, a blaze of smell and light where he spent hours trailing like adventurers through the markets and roads. And beyond it, the sea, great and beautiful.
Why does he feel like this is the last time he’ll see it?
Anonymous asked: Hey, deep breaths, blue, just deep breaths, alright? What you’re about to do is gonna shake up a lot of stuff, and Anti is going to be beyond pissed so you have to be prepared. No matter what you cannot tell anyone why you did it, otherwise that woman and her friends will be killed and your brothers will be up rooted and moved again with a lot more punishments and restrictions. Just stay safe, Marv, please, and best of luck.
“Yes,” he says, almost sadly. “Everything changes tonight, I think.”
Anonymous asked: anti's the one who's betraying you. he claims to love and want to protect you. protectors don't hurt who they protect, or make them hurt other people. love isn't forcing someone to live in a way that makes them miserable. you deserve to be treated better. all of you.
Blue sighs, staring down at his feet, turning away from the ocean to head back towards his home. “I don’t know anymore.”
immabethehero asked: Go Cat In the Hat on Anti. Recite anything with a climax that involves the house in absolute chaos and defeat Anti from there. Better yet, go Lorax and yeet him or you and brothers out be the seat of his or your pants
“There’s an idea,” he smiles wearily, looking over at you. “Some of you sure are wilder than others… we might need a little out-of-the-box thinking around here. But maybe not that.”
Anonymous asked: Marvin, before everything gets crazy and scary, just don't stop believing in Jackie. He never wanted to hit any of you, he only does it because he thinks it's better coming from him than Anti. And he needs you to remind him that he's a good big brother. You need each other, right?
Blue’s eyes well up and water over.
“Want him to be himself again,” he whispers. “Yeah… yeah, I need him. I need him to be my brother again. I need him to be their brother again.”
Pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Blue? Could you take your shirt off so we can see the tattoo there? Bupine asked: blue, can we see your tattoo?
Blue stops short, his arms full of water.
The warm wind cuts across his hair, getting longer these days. His earrings clink against his piercings. It’s too warm for his brown coat, and all he has on is a nice blue t-shirt.
He sets his water down and pulls his sleeve away from his shoulder, where a tattoo of a bird stands in silent testimony - a small, perfect, delicate lapwing
With a small blue jewel for an eye.
bupine asked: you and your brothers could be free again, marvin. no more torture or walking on eggshells or panicked time travel or bloodshed or pain. you'd be together as the people you used to be, more or less. don't you remember your brothers names?
“Yeah,” he whispers, pulling his shirt back up his shoulder and picking up his water. “Yeah, I’d really like that. I - oh. Names? I… just the one, and I mustn’t say it. It’s a twin’s job to keep those old secrets, you know. But please, I really won’t tell.”
Anonymous asked: i know it's hard to accept, blue, but we wouldn't lie about this
“Yes, I… I think, perhaps, I trust you. After all we’ve been through. Right?”
Anonymous asked: i think anti's waiting for you to wake up
“What are you talking about?” yawns Trick, listening to Dok’s warm voice tell him a good story. “Who needs to - ”
Screaming erupts from the room across the hall and Dok, Trick, and Dap all react as one, rushing into the bathroom and pulling the curtain closed over the doorway behind them. They brought you with them and you sit beside them as they pile up in the tub, hiding from their big brother.
Red shrieks even as he comes awake, clawing at his wrists and head. He can feel blood running down his hands, seeping from his fingers, dripping down his face, and he chokes on a sob, collapsing against his mattress to writhe, rocking his body hard. The next scream is one of pure frustration, slamming his palm against the floor, hiding his face in his hands.
He doesn’t give himself enough time to recover before dragging himself to his feet, heaving for air. He stalks over to Trick and Dok’s room and immediately finds them in the bathroom, ignoring sudden cries of protest to grab Trick by the back of his shirt and shove him back into his room, picking up his gun and shoving it at him.
“Go guard that fucking girl like you’re supposed to,” he snarls. “Or do you want Anti to bash your head in?”
“I - I thought I had til nightfall - ”
“How much darker could it be out, Trick?”
Trick gives up on protest and races out the door, Dok hustling after a moment later. Dapper tries to follow, only to be snatched by the collar again and hauled back towards Anti’s room. He lets out a sorrowful little whistle, trailing sadly after Red and sinking obediently down outside the door when he’s pushed.
He curls in on himself, sulking. Red shouldn’t just - oh, wait. Why is he still standing above him?
Dapper blinks and looks up. Red stares back at him, something shattered in his eyes.
“J?” asks Dap softly, confused. “You… you’re okay?”
Red’s eyes flicker away and he scoffs, backing away, his hands shaking. He limps back to his room, curling in on himself.
He wants Blue.
immabethehero asked: You are loved, Red! Remember that!!!
“Motherfuck,” Red says blandly, slumping down in his corner again, his face white. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dapper, do you know anything about the book Anti has with him?
Dapper blinks over at you, rubbing his shoulders, and his eyes widen.
“That horrible thing! It feels awful, awful, awful! I can feel it from everywhere in the house, and it stinks like blood and sand and rubber. I want Anti to get rid of it! He said I was being a baby.”
bupine asked: red, can you tell us about the book you stole for anti?
Red stares at the wall, dead-eyed.
“I know that man was willing to die for it. Painfully.”
bupine asked: about the whole killing thing? uh, yeah, someone is definitely dead. anti had one of the boys go get the book and i think he killed someone to do it. sorry, genesis.
Genesis slumps down in her chair.
Staring at the floor.
Her mouth parts, and closes, and parts, and closes.
She says nothing.
nikkilbook asked: Red, do you still have your little alpaca duder? And your dog tags? Seems like you could use something to hold right now.
His hands shift, twitching for his things, but eventually he just curls in on himself. Monsters don’t get to hold alpaca toys and presents from little brothers.
bupine asked: genesis. what is in that book? anti's been reading it, and we need to know what he knows
“We have a thousand books! It’s a library! I fear no one but the demon will know until it’s too late.”
nikkilbook asked: Strange. I don’t see any monsters. I just see you.
“Do you know what I saw Dapper say once? What is a monster but a man who does monstrous things?”
bupine asked: you aren't a monster, red! you're a good person. you used to do such good things. you still would if anti would let you. but you have to do evil things so anti doesn't hurt your brothers, it's not your choice or your fault. it never was. you might not realise that now, but one day, when this is all over, you will. don't deprive yourself of comfort because you think you don't deserve it, cause i think you need it more than anyone right now
“I don’t want to talk,” mumbles Red, pushing you out of view of him.
“Hey, Red!” someone calls.
You can almost hear him perk up.
“Yes, Anti!”
“Where’s Blue gone?”
Red blinks, thinking. Where’s he gone? He’s not in the house?
Oh, fuck. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. He lost track. He’s the big brother and he lost track.
He scrambles to his feet, nearly tripping over his chain. A moment later, he darts into the clinic, searching frantically for Blue, searching frantically for -
Oh! Thank God. He’s coming up the path now. Red nearly slumps over.
“Red, what’s wrong?” asks Blue, worried.
“There’s my boy,” calls Anti, and appears in the clinic, playing with a knife. He looks cheerful and much more solid than he has been in a long time, pushing past Red to hurry towards Blue. “Why do I smell magic, then, huh?”
“Oh!” Blue stares at Red, alarmed. “Um - um - ”
“His hands have been breaking out awfully,” Red puts in, his voice croaking. “Look how sore they are, Anti. Magic’s all but leaking out of him.”
Anti frowns and moves forward, grabbing Blue’s hands. Blue hisses, pain rising in his palms. “Anti, ow, ow.”
Anti stares at them for a long time.
“Next week,” he promises, patting his hands. “Next week, I’ll have everything ready, and I’ll know exactly how to handle it, okay?”
Blue softens. “You’re not… you’re not angry?”
“I know you’re doing your best,” purrs Anti, stroking his cheek. Blue startles and then relaxes, a smile filling up his face.
And then he meets Anti’s eyes.
Warmth fills him up in a great rush, like apple cider and a hot bath at the same time. It’s almost too hot, but he doesn’t protest, suddenly a little dizzy under Anti’s hands. His little brother brushes hair from his eyes, humming.
“You’re being good while Red learns his lesson, aren’t you, Azul?”
“Oh, yes, Anti, yes.”
“You’re not scared of that girl in the shed or anything?”
“No, no. I know you’ve got it covered, you, you…” Blue trails off, blinking. What were they talking about? His hand is on Anti’s waist.
“You and Dap,” murmurs Anti, stroking his hand through his hair. “Are far more powerful than any of those little pests. And all your brothers are watching over you.”
“I’m not scared, honey.” Blue is eager to reassure, smiling at him. “I wasn’t. I’m not.”
“Ah, good then.”
Anti draws back and Blue goes cold, blinking rapidly, staggering back.
Red stares between the two of them, terrified.
“Well,” chirps Anti, cheerful as ever. “That’s all I wanted to check. Oh, and Red?”
“Yes, Anti?”
Anti’s eyes turn cold. Red, for his part, gets no warmth for them.
“Shut the fuck up with the screaming before I do you like Dapper, you understand?”
Red pales and nods swiftly, stepping back from him.
nikkilbook asked: By that logic, what is a man who makes sure his brothers get Christmas presents, puts himself at risk to make sure his littlest brother gets the proper medication, and quotes vines at the top of his lungs?
Blue staggers from one counter to another, blinking rapidly. “D-damn,” he stammers, disoriented. Water bottles go slipping from his grasp and Red hurries to scoop them up for him, grabbing his elbow to help him from falling. “What were you talking about, Red?”
“Nothing,” hisses Red. “Blue, are you okay?”
Anonymous asked: Red, you’re being so hard on yourself. We understand that you’re trying to protect them, but you still have a choice in how you act. It’s alright to be soft remember? There’s strength there, and you’re so much stronger than what Anti says. He’s so quick to discard people, it was never because you were weak. It was because you were too strong being who you really are- a kind hearted soul that loves his brothers. They don’t like seeing you like this and we don’t either. Just loosen up a bit, yeah?
“No, they’re definitely trying to talk to you about some shit,” stammers Blue, sinking back against Red’s chest. “What happened?”
“We weren’t goddamn talking! Blue, did he do something to you?”
“Feel dizzy,” complains Blue. “Ouch, like he took something.”
“What?”
Blue stumbles, gripping at Red’s hands. “Think I need to sit down.”
Anonymous asked: A man that does monstrous things and doesn’t feel /remorse/ for it, that makes a monster. The idea that you can’t even sleep at night because of the things you’ve done shows that you regret the pain that you’ve caused them. You are not a monster, just a tortured soul acting on what you’ve known for how ever long you’ve been here. I mean you still want to protect them! A monster only thinks for himself. And yes, there is such thing as a difference between the two.
Red brings Blue back to their room and sits him down on the mattress. He wants to rub his back, but isn’t sure if Blue would let him.
“Did you call yourself a monster?” asks Blue, bewildered. “My… my Red?”
Red turns as scarlet as his name and sinks away from his brother.
He’s not going to cry. He’s not going to cry. He doesn’t get to cry in front of anyone.
Anonymous asked: oh god, always at the worst possible moment this happens
“Weird how he seems to fucking plan it like that,” snarls Red.
Blue stares up at him, wide-eyed.
Red covers his mouth with his hands, choking.
“I didn’t m-mean that. He’s good… I’m not… angry.”
Anonymous asked: MARVIN DON'T FREAK OUT BUT ANY TIME NOW WOULD BE GOOD
“Oh, you’ll have to give me a moment,” slurs Blue, sinking down on Red’s shoulder, who stiffens hard. “Now I’m so… so tired.”
“What is going on?” frowns Red.
Anonymous asked: T-took something? What do you mean? Like, 'stole something important' took, o-or 'took a weight off your chest' took? Are you okay?!?
“Mmf, like I was warm, and then the warm was… all gone. But it was… it was my warmth and he took it.”
“Blue.” Red looks alarmed. “You’re scaring me.”
Anonymous asked: What the hell? Did he take your magic from you?
Blue shrugs and holds out his hand, focusing to get a little blue glow up in his hands, but it doesn’t spread to his chest anymore, and he doesn’t shake so much.
“Blue!” cries Red, grabbing his hands to hide them. “Stop that, now!”
Blue pulls the magic down again, shrugging. It’s not so much of an effort anymore.
Anonymous asked: oh, I don't know, red. maybe if you'd stopped wallowing in your misery for a minute you'd notice when your brothers need help
Red recoils from you, shocked.
“I - I - I wasn’t allowed to - and you - you think I want to be a screaming, fucked-up, shaking little - freak? Driven just by what Anti wants, driven all the time by this h-hatred. Is that - am I - ”
He curses and draws away from you, panting.
“I don’t care what you think. No, you know, you’re right anyway, and it doesn’t fucking matter.”
“Rojo,” mumbles Blue, looking up at him. “Ro, Ro. Come hold on to me, I’m cold.”
Red won’t turn back to him. Blue sinks in on himself, shivering.
bupine asked: blu,do you remember the idea you had? the one we were talking about earlier? please say you haven't forgotten.
“Mh.” Blue frowns, holding his shoulders. “You - you were telling me - oh, poems! You had poems for me! I love that! I needed… my hands were hurting me… poetry…”
Anonymous asked: blue, please get up and... handle the waters. right?
“Ah, the water, the water - ”
“I’ll get it,” Red cuts him off immediately, hurrying to the kitchen. He takes every bottle and jug and stacks them up neat, feeling his chest beginning to shake.
When he comes back, Blue is rocking himself on the mattress, looking very pale. Red returns to his side timidly and puts a hand on his forehead.
“You’re so clammy,” he murmurs.
“He got the waters for me,” mumbles Blue, closing his eyes and leaning against his hand. “See, he still loves me…”
Red’s eyes water.
Anonymous asked: Marvin, I've always been partial to The Tyger by William Blake. I think it's a good calling-out song.
“Oh, the Tyger!” gasps Blue, delighted. “I don’t even need to look that one up, yes, yeah, I know! Tyger, Tyger, burning bright!”
Blue pauses to smile up at Red, shaking above him. “That’s like my Red,” he breathes, adoring.
Anonymous asked: "..Oh, shit. ..Buddy, what'd he do to you?" -PF!M
“That’s that other magician,” chatters Blue, pointing at the camera. “The one that’s happier than I am.”
“It’s like you’re fucking delirious…”
Anonymous asked: You said your magic felt really hot, right? Well, if Anti took away the warmth, maybe he took away the excess magic, to make it more tolerable? Can he do stuff like that?
“Oh, oh,” breathes Red, relieved. “Maybe that’s all it was! Just a little excess off the top, oh, that’s good news, isn’t it!”
Blue swallows slowly, like it’s painful, his mouth falling into a frown.
“He… he didn’t ask me to do that.”
“No, well, it’s Anti,” laughs Red, aware that there’s a little hysteria in his giggles. He sees Dapper go wandering past their door, talking to himself, but he hopes he’s just playing puppets, because he can’t handle two of them shattering in one night. Dapper’s scared of him lately anyway, and there’s no one to blame but him. “He takes what he wants! He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t. You just - you just have to get used to it. That’s just Anti. That’s just who Anti is. You just have to handle it. And do what he says! Even if it’s really, really, really horrible!”
He’s pacing the room, gripping at his hair. Blue stares up at him, afraid.
“Why won’t you sit down with me?” he asks softly. “I’ve missed you.”
Red hiccups on a sob, turned away from him.
nikkilbook asked: Does it matter to you, Red?
“Does what?”
musical-in-theory asked: So Anti do you fear the others having power because if they knew how much they all really had, they’d realize just how weak, pathetic, and powerless you really are? Sure you can glitch menacingly and wield a knife, but other than that all you do is hide behind your puppets and let their power do all the work
You find Anti in his room, pouring over that book, practically clapping with joy.
“Say what you want, say what you want,” he sings, barely bothering to glance at his camera’s, most of which have been moved to Red’s room anyway. “Soon this will all be perfect, perfect!”
Anonymous asked: yeah, we know, red. that's what we've been trying to tell y'all
“I’m not mad, I’m not mad, I’m not mad, didn’t mean it, didn’t mean it, didn’t mean it. I love him, I love him, I love him.”
A very small voice cuts him off from the corner. “I love you…”
“Blue,” he begs, and he doesn’t know what he’s asking for.
“Come sit down with me…”
“I can’t, Anti says I can’t.”
“I feel f-faint, Red, come help me.”
This, at least, is enough to turn Red, and he hurries back to his twin’s side to hold onto Blue’s shoulders.
bupine asked: well, you're in a good mood, anti. what's in that book that's made you anything less than completely miserable tonight?
“Everything,” says Anti smugly.
Anonymous asked: do you want us to write something for you?
“Oh!” Blue seems to melt for you, clapping his hands together. “Oh, I would, but then I’d feel terrible choosing between you. But you can send me some!”
“Blue, what the hell is happening?” Red is reaching his wit’s end.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Maybe the Raven from Poe! Cryptic, and fitting for the bird tattoo. Recite that! :p
“I love Poe. Red, don’t you know the Raven?”
“Um.” Blue is clinging to him so hopefully. “Nevermore, bud.”
“There,” laughs Blue, putting his head on his shoulder. “He does love me.””
Red is going to cry. Or maybe hit something. And he’s not sure he trusts himself enough to be sure that won’t be Blue or Dap, because he’s a fucking ass no matter which way he tells it to himself. He should go.
Blue clings to his sleeve. He can’t seem to move.
bupine asked: "everything" is pretty goddamn vague. what, is it some magic that'll keep the boys in your control forever or some fucked up shit like that? man, i wouldn't put it past you.
“Wow, you’ve convinced me, I’ll tell you everything!”
Anti flips a page of his book and goes back to reading.
Pixie-in-trebleland asked: Blue, maybe you should go talk to Genesis and show her. Bupine and badlyposted everything added similar questions and were added.
“Oh, Trick’s out there, I don’t think I can.”
“No shit you can’t!” chokes Red. “You’re - you’re up to something dangerous, aren’t you? Something that will get you in trouble with Anti! And then guess who’s going to have to punish you?”
Tears soak down his face. He clutches Blue to his side, forgetting his shyness. “No, no, no, you have to be good, he’ll hurt you!”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Anti, what stupid tricks do you have up your sleeve?
“I got, like, three tattoos.”
Anonymous asked: guys, I can't believe i'm saying this, but for once - I don't think he's watching.
Red stops short. Blue, a little disoriented, nevertheless seems to grasp the magnitude of your words - he stares at the camera, rubbing at his tired eyes.
“He’s always watching,” says Red. “He’s always…”
He glances around the room. Out in the hallway, he can see Dapper playing happily, enacting a show with someone he sign names Brother Average as the main character, whistling and letting his shirt get wrinkled as he plays, pausing only to chat with the ghosts. Red peers up over his window and finds Trick and Dok leaning casually against the shed and drinking the last of their sodas like beers, Trick’s gun pointed down in the dust as they chatter away.
And beneath his arm, Blue is murmuring poetry, his hands glowing blue, but no one comes to make him stop.
Red’s supposed to be the one putting things back in order.
Red’s supposed to be the one putting things back in order.
On his head, on his head.
But… around his waist…
Blue is hugging him, pressed up to his side, leaning forward to hold the camera, cold but happy, snuggled up to Red for warmth.
“I… I can’t… this can’t be happening…”
Anonymous asked: oh, who cares, anti? you lose your grip so easily. I don't know what's in that book, but it's not gonna turn out like you think
Anti turns you off, humming to himself.
Anonymous asked: Red, how are Blue's hands? Are they worse, or better?
Red leans down to take one of Blue’s hand. A clean silver rose ring gleams around his finger.
“Um,” he whispers. “I think they’re a little better, b-but he’s bleeding under his nails.”
He turns to see Blue staring up at him, smiling softly.
“I… I…”
Red swallows hard and reaches out to knock their foreheads together.
“Blue, I’m so sorry.”
Blue’s smile falters away. He reaches out to touch his face, stroking his thumb down his beard. “I know you are, Red. But that won’t fix this. Something has to change, Red… I won’t watch you get hurt again… I can’t. None of you.”
pixie-in-trebleland asked:
Red, just savour the moment. Let your brothers be just that: brothers. Join them and have fun!
“This isn’t fun,” whispers Red. “I’ve never been more afraid in my life. He could kill one of us for this.”
Blue runs his hands through his hair, frowning. “I won’t let him.”
“Blue, what the hell are you planning? You could die.”
“Don’t let him,” whispers Blue, like it’s simple. “Help me. I just want to cast a spell. I want someone to come save us. That girl, her friends might help us…”
“Or they might not.”
“I can’t not try, Red. I can’t not try. And besides, my hands ache, and ache, and ache… soothed, for now, but I can’t take another week, Red. He’s made me hold on so long.”
Red’s face contorts; he wipes rapidly at tears.
Anonymous asked:
Quickly, Marv - can you give us a poem? Anything? Maya Angelou, Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson? Hell, Dr. Seuss? We can't lose this now.
“I love Angelou,” he whispers, still pressed up to Red’s chest, staring up at him. “’Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, weakened by my soulful cries?’ Not us, Ro, not this time…”
“Please.” Red covers his glowing hands like he could hold all his power in his own fingers. “Please, Blue, I’m afraid.”
Anonymous asked: Oh damn Anti, what kind of tattoos do you have?
Anti stares at you. He doesn’t know how you got this message to him, but you did. The sheer befuddlement on his face might have been enough to conduct it to him.
“Um… do you know who Jacksepticeye is, or… did you kind of just wander in here?”
He looks away.
Back at you.
“Bloodborne and Shadow of the Colossus,” he tells you, almost meek with confusion. “And, uh, that circle he got just to mock me… I - ”
He pauses, alerted by how loud two of his boys are talking in the hall. A frown cuts across his face.
Anonymous asked: UUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH NOT AGAINNNNN
“Yeah!” laughs Blue, throwing his head back in a way that reminds you of Jack. “NOT AGAIN!”
“Blue!” cries Red, grabbing his wrists. “You’re delirious or something, stop!”
“Red, I made my decision!”
“He could kill you! He could send you to goddamn prison for the rest of your life! He could kill one of the little ones to punish you!”
“I’m not watching them suffer like this anymore! Not feathered in iron, pretentious in dying, not that way the impoverished spawn of the hamlet inherit you, oh death - ”
“Blue! Stop!”
His hands glow with power.
Anonymous asked: If he got the circle to mock you, then why are you wearing it?
Anti opens and closes his mouth, his face falling. “It’s - it’s my body too! He can’t just - I l-like wearing it like this! I like - ”
He pauses, biting down hard on his lip.
“Not like something made of flesh would understand! Don’t you assholes have better things to ask about!”
nikkilbook asked: If you can’t be unafraid, Jackie, be afraid and happy.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know about you, but personally I can’t even usually handle one emotion at a time, so - Blue, give me the messages!”
Anonymous asked: oh, perfect! hi blue!!! i sent you the poem before, about the dogs, remember? I wrote this last night, I was thinking of you! Here it goes: I told them there'd be flowers / when at last, at winter's end / the frost would put away its teeth / and spring came round the bend!
“Beautiful, beautiful!” he gasps, applauding you. Dapper is staring in at them from the hallway now, his head in his hands and his elbows on the floor, tilting his head at them. Red’s afraid he’ll snitch to Anti. “Spring come round the bend, oh… what a lovely poem, thank you! I loved the dog one too…”
Anonymous asked: uhhh okay seen any good shows lately? mr. robot is pretty cool. it's about a hacker, you might like it. first season is a bit of a slog tho.
“Oh, I like Rami Malek, and the narrative structure of that show is - FUCK OFF.”
In the hallway, Dapper raises his eyebrows, glancing between Anti’s room and Blue’s and Red’s. What a fun night.
whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: Red hes gonna die if he doesnt do this now
“He what?” shouts Red.
Suddenly Red is hauling Blue to his feet, his twin still glowing with magic between his arms. Dapper chirps nervously as Red drags him past him and down the hallway, towards the clinic.
Dap hears Anti standing up in his room, alerted by the yelling.
Anonymous asked: Oh, enough self-pity, Red! You know right from wrong, good from bad, monster from man! there is a monster in your house, you know who it is, and it is not you.
Red chokes, squeezing Blue’s fingers.
“It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter if he hates or loves all of us - though, hell, I know he doesn’t love us. Right and wrong don’t matter anymore! All that matters is keeping their heads on their shoulders!”
“Red.” Blue sounds like he’s the one trying to calm his brother, now. “Red, I’m okay, I - ”
“We need to get away from here! At least where he won’t fucking hear you!”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Maybe, if you have enough strength, you should go check on him. :)
Dapper blinks between your message and the door, listening to Blue and Red arguing.
“Oh, Red, Red, let me say goodbye to my little brother first, Red, I want him to know I love him - ”
Dapper turns towards his brother to sign an “I love you,” making Blue glow even brighter.
“Oh, baby, I’ll miss you if this kills me,” sobs Blue, making Red start shouting again, and Dapper backs away, frightened.
Okay. Not fun anymore.
He turns towards the room near the back of the hallway, hearing Anti approach.
Well… he figures he doesn’t want Blue to die any more than Red does.
He dashes forward and knocks on Anti’s door before he can open it, his face contorting with faux grief.
“Dapper?” Anti opens the door, staring around for signs of the disturbance, hearing somebody stepping out towards the clinic. “What’s going on? Why are you crying? Hey, hey, sweetheart, big brother’s got you…”
Dapper half tackles Anti back into his room, burying his face in his chest and crying like a good little actor, complaining about ghosts and red men and the girl in the shed with the star on her cheek until Anti is consumed entirely by an affection that delights in seeing him cry, and Blue and Red are slipping away.
bupine asked: don't be scared, red. this was going to happen sooner or later but it's ok, it'll all be fine in the end, everyone's going to be ok and you won't have to be red anymore
“What the hell is happening?” chokes Red, helping Blue up the path that leads away from their house. “You’re talking like Jesus Christ is about to show up and Second Coming our asses into a whole different timeline!”
“They wear in their skin a more urgent subsistence,” Blue is mumbling - still determined, though, worryingly, he’s clutching his hands together again, pain eating up his expression once more as the power rebuilds. “A thing of their own, poor petal, a raveling cord…”
bupine asked: blue, if there was ever a time to use your magic, it would be now. he can't see you, he's absorbed in his book, he's not gonna notice anything. but be careful - anti's book is dangerous, we don't know what kind of information it has that anti now possesses. stay alert my dudes
“He’s not even watching,” murmurs Blue, clearing up a little. He looks up at the shining sky, power breathing in his hands. “Oh, the stars are out… Red, lets go up to the rich man’s side of the mountain, where we used to run.”
Red stares at him, leading him slowly higher.
“Blue… are you really not mad at me?”
“You’re going to help me put it right,” says Blue, with a confidence so sound Red can’t even object. “If not all perfect today, someday. The two of us. That’s what I believed in, I think, when I gave myself up to him. That even if I couldn’t get away, at least we would be together, and that was enough for me to believe there was still hope.”
“More poetry?” asks Red, confused.
But Marvin only smiles and leads him higher up the mountain.
spicydanhowell asked: how is red out of the chain?
“Oh, he could have gotten it off whenever,” says Blue, pointing down. Red blushes hard and looks away. “Like when Anti makes Dapper wear his rope - remember he said that he could take it off? - or Trick his collar. We’ve mentioned it before. You can take it off whenever you want. Untie it, unlatch it, yank the chain off the stake in the corner of his room as you rush to carry me out of the room and probably bruise your dumb-ass ankle.”
“Sorry,” grumbles Red, bright crimson.
“It’s all humiliation, scare tactics, and symbolism. But the punishment that comes after… isn’t. We won’t worry about that right now, though.”
“I’m worried about it!” shouts Red. “Didn’t Anti once throw Dapper down the fucking stairs for taking off his rope in Norway?”
“Better than losing his mind sitting all alone in a locked up room with a dog collar on!” shouts Blue, finding his vigor again for a second - only to sway right back into Red’s chest a second later. He mutters Boy Breaking Glass under his breath and keeps moving, hiding his aching hands under his shirt.
Anonymous asked: welp, that answers that. whenever you're ready, marv, let 'er rip. we'll be right behind you the whole time
“Hey, you guys know what the sexiest poem ever is? Walt Whitman, gay as hell, three lines, you ready for this? ‘Touch me.’”
Blue pauses, breathing in the warm equator air. Magic is powerful out here, near the center of the earth. He wonders what it would be like to be exactly on the equator.
“‘Touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass.’”
He breathes in deep. Breathes out deep. Tries to remember his own name.
“‘Don’t be afraid of my body.’”
Red has fallen back behind him, trying to remember it too.
cest-mellow asked: red, jackie. anti cant hurt you if you work together. he can’t hurt you if you keep each other safe.
Red breathes out something that might be a laugh or a sob, staring up at his brother, glowing his way up the mountain.
“We always have been a force to be reckoned with, haven’t we?”
Anonymous asked: everything IS in order, Red. Go on, sing some poetry with your big brother.
“Blue,” says Red, very softly. “I think even if you do save the others, I’ll still be a monster.”
“Monsters don’t worry about being monsters.”
“I’ve never believed that. Even Anti shakes when he hears the name of his old master. Afraid to remember the things he’s done, sometimes.”
“Ah, now who’s the revolutionary… more poetry, Red, you’re an artist…”
“I’m not playing. Blood is all my hands are now.”
“Red. The past week has been hell for you.”
Red’s eyes water just to hear someone acknowledge it without saying he deserved it.
“My fault,” he croaked. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
“No. No. He was wrong to do that. He was wrong! Your brain’s jumbled, I know, I understand, but I need you to trust me when I tell you - you’re not a monster, you’re a good man with a good heart, and I love you more than anything.”
Red won’t fall to his knees and cry. Not here. Not in front of him.
Blue wraps his arms around him.
“Would you just remember how to be my friend?”
Red bursts into tears and collapses into his shoulder, hugging his twin tight to his chest.
Anonymous asked: Jackie trust your brother, please.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Jackie wails. “I’m so tired of being scared all the time!”
“I know, I know. Just come with me. Come on.”
“Blue, you’re shaking so badly…”
“Almost there, now, almost there.”
Anonymous asked: uhuh okay, this is a thing now. Marvin you’re gonna have to act quick to even get to Genesis while Anti’s not paying attention. But there’s no way you’re getting to her in this state...oh gosh, Red will you wake up please and get Marvin to Genisis?
“I’m going to call for her friends first,” says Blue, and Red looks up in shock, but does not protest. “I don’t know how to protect here. Oh, fuck, this is… a lot of power.”
Anonymous asked: blue ik you're not feeling great but maybe just get this moving? doesn't matter what you recite, just whatever you can remember. then just rest i think.
Blue stumbles, beginning to shake hard, his hands aching terribly. The blue light has reignited in his chest.
“Get moving, get moving,” he chants, keeping on up. “Doesn’t matter what you recite… with fists raised, white teeth gritted, my body like a soldier’s knitted… I took from the world what suffering it offered me and let it ricochet through me…”
nikkilbook asked: Does it matter to you that you’ve had to become this? That you’ve had to push away your brothers and be only what Anti says you must be? You said we were right about you not caring about them, that it didn’t matter, but does it matter /to you/?
“Yes,” croaks Red, following him. He recognizes the poem Blue chants, but can’t remember where from. “Yes, that… I… I used to be somebody different…”
The moonlight casts Blue in silver.
“I used to be a protector…”
Nikkilbook asked: It happened long ago—I remember it still— I was hewn down at the holt’s end stirred from my stock. Strong foes seized me there, worked in me an awful spectacle, ordered me to heave up their criminals. Those warriors bore me on their shoulders until they set me down upon a mountain. Enemies enough fastened me there. (1/) Often alone, every daybreak, I must bewail my cares. There is now no one living to whom I dare articulate my mind’s grasp. I know as truth that it is a noble custom for a man to enchain his spirit’s close, to hold his hoarded coffer, think what he will. Just as I must fasten in fetters my heart’s ken, often wretched, deprived of my homeland, far from freeborn kindred, since years ago I gathered my gold-friend in the earthen gloom, and went forth from there abjected. (/2)
“Often wretched,” whispers Blue. “Deprived of my homeland… my gold-friend in earthen gloom…”
His eyes glow blue.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Keep going, Marv!!
Blue clutches at his chest. His shoulders shake so hard he is losing his ability to recite.
He has not cast in a very, very long time.
Magic slathers his throat in fire and he chokes, trying to breathe, trying to regulate. He wants to cast, but he doesn’t want to fucking explode.
“Get a grip, Blue, get a grip,” he pants. “I can do this, I can do this…”
Anonymous asked: Be mad, Jackie. Be furious.
“I am mad!” shouts Red, taking another step up the mountain. “I am, I am!”
“That’s my brother!”
“I’m mad that I did what I told him! I’m mad that I wasn’t enough for him! I’m mad that I can’t keep anyone I love safe.”
“Red - Red. Don’t… you don’t have to do that. You - here, try after me. ‘Whose broken window is a work of art!’“
Red leans back his head and shouts. “Whose broken window is a work of art!”
“Success, that winks aware as elegance, as treasonable faith!”
“As treasonable fucking faith! I’m mad he hit me! I’m mad he chained me up! I’m mad my heart still loves him but I’m more mad he lead me to murder and fucking abuse! I’m mad this is the life I’m living! I’m mad we’re not at the top of this goddamn mountain yet!”
He scoops Blue up into his arms, drawing a shout half of surprise and half of amusement out of his shaking brother, and heads up the mountain with him, his feet sure and certain.
bupine asked: red. think about everything you just said about anti and realize how fucked up that all is. if we told you that, hypothetically, there was a way to get away from anti and be free again, would you take it? out of pure curiosity of course
“I want to go home,” wails Red. “But I can’t remember where it is, or even much of who it is, not anymore, and I don’t myself, not for an instant, and someone else is standing in my skin.”
“There, there,” coughs Blue. “You’re getting it, you’re getting it…”
Pixie-in-trebleland asked: Genesis? Um, important question, but is it possible for your magic to be taken out from you? Marvin just had an encounter with Anti and he's saying all his warmth is gone. Cest-mellow and anon asked similar questions and were added.
Genesis looks barely awake.
“Black, black, black,” she manages weakly. “That’s some black magic…”
bupine asked: recite a poem for us, please, blue! any one you remember at all
“Damn, I remember so many more than I thought I would!”
“We might have hit the poetry theme a little too hard.”
“The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea…”
“Blue, wait - too sad.”
“Something happier? For you, anything.”
Anonymous asked: "...Jackie? Are you okay? Please.. calm down. If you're waking up now isn't the time to be freaking out, alright..? Breathe. It.. It's gonna be okay." -PF!H
They reach the ridgeline of the mountain where the verdant green grass meets the dead dust of the barren side in silence.
The sky is a spinning top and it has no malevolence. Roses wrap up Blue’s fingers, silver and ruby, as a blade from the side of a thing still breathing.
Blue kneels on the ridgeline, his eyes closed. Beneath his skin, blue light - ethereal, illuminating, breathing against the frail cage of his bones.
“Blue?”
He does not cast, does not cast, does not cast.
“Blue? Blue? Pain, Blue? Are you okay, Blue? You shake. Blue!”
“Someone must come,” whispers Marvin. “Surely? As no one came on the beach that night, now, surely, salvation?”
The stars are laughing at him.
What was this? A moment’s idea? A girl’s suggestion? A shot in the dark, a moment of clarity?
“It’s the only chance I’ve had in a long time,” he whispers to the universe. “So here we are, accepting. Red, will you hold on to me? Red, will you hold me, please?”
Red listens. Red breathes. Red’s calm. Red trusts him.
“I’m right here.”
A promise.
“I’m right here.”
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Blue? Maybe tell Red and the rest of us your favourite poem! It might cheer you all up. Right, Red?
“Yeah,” whispers Red. His hands hold him steady. “Tell me your favorite poem, Blue.”
Blue clutches at the clean pure earth beneath his hands.
“A Clear Midnight,” he says. “By Walt Whitman.”
He wants Red to know what to carve onto his tombstone.
“This is thy hour, O soul. Thy free flight into the worldless. Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done. Thee fully forth emerging - ”
He stops short.
He can’t finish it.
He can’t control it.
He -
Pain -
Light -
Red?
Oxygen, flame, fuel, Marvin -
The green mountainside is on fire.
pixie-in-trebleland asked: Jackie! Protect your brother! What's happening?
In the first five seconds -
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five -
Red is swallowed whole with a scream.
Not by fire -
Fire consumes the green side of the mountain -
But by plant life.
He screams as verdant green trees explode from the earth, breathing into life with their arms full of leaves. Grass chokes up around his feet, tangling around his legs all the way up to his chest and tearing him to the ground, where bramble and flowers begin to crawl over his chest, eating him alive faster than he can tear them off.
He howls as loud as he can, trying to scramble forward for his brother, but he is swallowed up in lily, basil, thicket, root, crushing harder and harder against his chest, pushing him down into the earth as the explosion of life pours off down the mountainside like thick dark alcohol from its container. He can hear people screaming farther down the mountain, alarmed by the fire, which, interested in this new growth of plant life, creeps ever forward towards a more intimate relationship with the other half of Marvin’s power.
A dog is barking close to him, maybe afraid. As he tears blood and bush from his eyes, he catches sight of Blue crumpled, unmoving, on the ridge of the mountain, his little blue t-shirt burning. He screams.
Hot breaths pant against his face as the dog finds him, and he recognizes, with an emotion he cannot name nor bear, his little brother. “Anti!” he screams. “Blue, Blue, my twin!”
A cactus bursts up through Red’s flesh and he screams. Anti, undaunted, bends his dog’s teeth down and tears the thing to shreds, taking the great weeping spikes of the cactus into his own snout. A moment later he is dragging Red out by the sweatshirt and sending him -
“Anti, wait!”
- careening down a harsh cut-off on the side of the mountain. Red yells as he rolls hard down the mountain, rocks and glass cutting into his face, dust filling up his lungs, until he slams down into a valley that is rapidly filling up with green.
He lies there for a good five minutes, too stunned to move, before he begins to cry, blood running rapidly down his face. He can hear yelling all around him and when he can clear the red from his eyes, he can see his little house a few meters away, with Trick and Dok shouting his name, unable to see him in the dark.
“Trickshot!” he wails, coughing as his ribs ache. He fears the trees have shattered them. “Doktor!”
They find him in the dark and haul him back towards the house, demanding to know what happened, but he is too dazed to explain, fixed too completely on the ridge of the mountain.
“Where’s Blue?” cries Dok.
“Still up there!”
“Red, come back to the house, Anti will save him.”
“The house will be swallowed up by the plants too, look, it’s spreading down the whole mountain!”
Shrill whistling alerts them to Dapper tugging on the door of the shed, watching through a crack in the door as grass begins to fill up Genesis’s prison.
“She’ll die in there,” warns Trick.
Dok sets Red on the ground. “Use your gun to smash the lock open.”
“No time,” calls a rasping voice from above them.
Trick drops his gun, his hands suddenly shaking too hard to support him, and crashes back into Dok, who pulls him away with low, desperate reassurances. Dapper picks anxiously at his clothes, straightening out as best he can, casting glances back at Red, who, distressed, can only stare up at the figure coming down the mountain.
Anti drags Marvin’s exhausted body along like a marionette, ignoring fleshless hands and a chest burned red with fire. His eyes are black as untouched ink, and his teeth all too white, until blood comes trickling down his bottom lip.
“Undo this!” screams Anti, and then he has Dapper by the throat, dragging him towards the fire as a threat. “Undo this, now!”
Dapper is frantic, hysterical, clutching at his throat.
“Turn it back, Dapper! Now! Dapper!”
He throws Dapper to the ground and Dapper scrambles away, terrified, his eyes flickering in every direction.
“Anti, Anti, Anti,” he signs, but with a frantic edge Red doesn’t recognize. “J-happy, H-healing, C-love, help me!”
“He’s having an episode, he can’t tell what’s going on, he’s afraid of the fire!” wails Dok, reaching out for his little brother. “He’s scared, stop, he can’t do it! Please, Anti!”
Anti screams his frustration and drives a kick right into Dapper’s nose before whirling on Red, leaving his time traveler writhing in the grass.
“What were you thinking?” Anti pants, his voice losing vigor rapidly as he realizes the magnitude - the irreversibility - of what’s happened. “What were you thinking? Red? Red?”
“Oh, fuck,” whispers Red, closing his eyes and opening again, closing his eyes and opening again, praying for it to go away.
“Look what you’ve done to your twin.”
“I - I - ”
Anti limps towards him in the spreading grass, one long white finger, cloaked in a rose ring, stretched out before him.
“You’ll atone for this,” he swears, pointing at Red. “You’ll pay for this, little hero. I’ll make you repair the wrongdoing with your own hands.”
“Anything - A-anti, anything, just - don’t punish him, I - ”
“Pack your bags,” coughs Anti, turning away from him, tearing off the last of Marvin’s shirt. Genesis catches sight of a shoulder inked with a dark bird. “We’re leaving, now. Red and Blue have summoned monsters to us, and we have little time if we are to remain together. If the magicians catch you, they will kill you, for they know nothing of what I am or what I can do, and they will give you up for hopeless cases once they realize you are my family, not just my slaves. And Trick?”
“Yes?”
Anti stalks towards the house, tearing off jewelry. “Kill that fucking girl.”
Anonymous asked: Anti keeping the girl alive will give you some leverage if the magicians catch up with you. If you kill your hostage, nothing will stop them.
“I’ll fucking stop them,” he snarls. “How about that? That girl inspired this stupid, pretentious, pandering, whiny, brattish little coward to give off a display like that? She should be grateful I don’t have time to tar and feather her.”
immabethehero asked: GENESIS LOOK OUT!!! Trick's been sent to kill you! He doesn't have magic, but he dooes have a gun!!!
The door to the shed must be shoved open - grass is growing thick along the floor.
But peaceful, almost.
A peaceful wave of green, past its initial moment of horror, like a violent birth that leads to a cheerful, pretty baby for Trick to clean up and present to a new mother, pressing her warm infant head into the hands of a loving parent, eyes wide with adoration.
Trick swallows.
Babies and murder are not a good mental combination.
He hoists that heavy gun.
Genesis is tired.
She thinks she might be dying.
Fatigue like she’s never felt before keeps her gaze trained on the ground, her dark face now sallow and pale.
The light of Trick’s sniper finds her forehead.
“Going to kill me?” she asks. Slowly.
Trick doesn’t answer.
She can hear his fingers readjusting on the gun.
“Are you a marksman or what?” She itches her chin gently along her collarbone, trying to flake off dried blood. “I’m an easy target.”
Still she does not die.
She can hear sobbing from not far off. She thinks the one in the vest, the one who carved her, has been left crying in the grass outside.
“You must not want to,” she says, closing her eyes.
Trick hisses through his teeth.
“I want my family to be safe,” he snaps, cocking the gun. “My brothers and I are sick of running from people like you.”
“This story he tells you, of everyone after you, of him the only one who could hide you… it is a lie.”
“You don’t know anything. You don’t know anything about my family. About what’s happening.”
His voice shakes like it could break. She wants to make a joke about it, but she hears Emmanuela’s voice in her head, begging her for just once in her life, just a little bit of caution. A little bit of earnesty.
“Don’t kill me, you poor sap,” she manages, with a deep sigh. “Just take this knife out of my hand and I’ll be gone.”
“What?”
“Your blue boy sets things on fire, the mustache one travels time, I disappear and go home… it’s not hard. Just take the knife out. I can’t go with my hand pinned, can I?”
He stares at her, eyes wide behind a scope he doesn’t need at point blank. A little of Dapper’s blood drips down his hands. Anti pulled him away when he tried to help him get up.
“Don’t kill me, tired man. I promise you, me and mine will find a way to return the favor. Don’t you have a brother you love? The one you were talking to for so long? A doctor, a healer? Would he want you to kill me?”
“Don’t,” snarls Trick, in that shaking, aching voice. “He knows what I am. He’s the only one who knows what I am. Who I am.”
She’s so tired.
The star on her face no longer bleeds.
“Well,” she says. “Who are you?”
End Section Six of Chapter Two.
Find the next section here.
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