#or give Hawks more time to catch him non-lethally if he got by him
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Cassandra Dimitrescu x Maiden ----Valiant pt.2
Part 1
You don’t think you could catch a wink of sleep if you tried.
Your mind is just too busy to shut down. Nerves buzz across your whole body. You feel like you’re suspended in time, trapped in a loop endlessly replaying the previous night’s events. Your mistake was getting involved in affairs that didn’t concern you. In this village, that can very well be one’s undoing. You know it. You knew it.
Yet you still intervened.
Like a fool.
If you close your eyes, you can still see her. The brunette Dimitrescu. A living painting of a woman in a background of howls and pitch-black darkness, who spoke with a lilting voice and prettily pronounced vowels –and complete disregard over human life.
Earning her amusement was the only reason you and the shopkeeper got to see another sunrise, although you have a sneaking suspicion it will be his last. Nobody disrespects a Dimitrescu and gets away with it. It may as well be law in the village –and the sentence for breaking it is very clear.
The man doesn’t remember what he did. It may be for the better, bitter as it feels to you. Either way, you try not to stare at him too much –nor the bruise on his face in the shape of your knuckles— when you enter his shop and ask for the brunette daughter’s order. It’s under the initials C.D. No name has been given and no address. He hasn’t realized who she is. Perhaps being permanently intoxicated has to do with it.
The box you receive weighs heavy in your hands, for more than one reason. Seeing it springs forth in your senses the expensive scent of her perfume, the tickle of her hair against your nose when she leaned in. Her lips were soft as a wildflower’s petals and cold as snow.
The “Thanks, sweetheart.” she said plays on repeat in your head.
Of course, such is your luck that you couldn’t pine over any normal girl. It’s human nature, you suppose, to desire what’s forbidden, but that’s not the only adjective that describes her;
She’s lethal.
A certain part of you was aware the moment you looked into her blueish amber eyes. Like a snake being stared down by a hawk or a deer caught in the gaze of a wolf, your place in the food chain wasn’t quite the same. Part of you was –is— attracted to her beauty. Part of you was petrified.
The stories your mother told you about her family don’t help in that department. Maidens who have been taken as maids into their castle never came back. Nobody who passed that threshold ever returned. There are rumors about dungeons filled with wailing. Warnings, to avoid bloodied steps should one come across them in the forest. To fear the mark the three daughters bear on their foreheads.
Hours pass. The sun begins its descent down the plane of the sky.
You can’t help but wonder if you’ll see it rise again.
You tell your employer you aren’t feeling well and need to take the evening off. You’ve worked non-stop so many days he doesn’t get to voice anything other than a grumble of acknowledgement.
It’s… a daunting experience, being alone after sunset.
You aren’t used to it, which makes it all the more jarring when the distant howling begins. You’re sitting in your couch with the nicest button-up shirt you have on –might as well look good dying, you figure— waiting.
And waiting.
Night has completely settled in. The cold penetrates your skin. You busy yourself with lighting the fireplace, pretending not to hear the sounds from outside. The cracking of wood helps, if only for a little bit. It gets a tad warmer, though you’re still chilled to the bone.
Perhaps she won’t come. you’re beginning to think.
But then, a peculiar sound comes from the other side of your door. Like the buzzing of insects, followed by a rush of air. Followed… by a knock on the wooden surface.
Your lungs suddenly empty of oxygen. If it was possible for a heart to jump right out a person’s chest yours would be doing just that. You have to answer but you’ve lost your voice. Every instinct screams at you to stay as far away from the door as humanly possible.
“It’s me.” you hear her muffled huff.
You summon all the courage you possess to walk to the entrance –and turn the handle. The brunette Dimitrescu is standing there in all her black-clad glory, eyes gleaming in the dark like gemstones. The very edge of her lip curves up upon seeing you. You move aside to let her in and waste zero seconds in closing the door behind her.
Her hood is pushed off in one graceful motion, revealing her waterfall of rich brown hair. “It’s cold in here.” she states, then turns to you. “Aren’t you freezing?”
You are, but that’s the least of your worries. “Kind of.” you say as you hover there awkwardly.
Your breath leaves a hint of smoke behind. Hers does not. You’re moving towards the box before your nerves cause you to break down in front of her.
It’s one thing to have a pretty girl in your house for the first time.
It’s entirely another when said pretty girl can also very easily kill you.
“Eager to get rid of me, beautiful?” she asks. There is obvious teasing in her voice but also an undertone of… something else. Disappointment, maybe. Whatever it is it strikes straight at your heart.
“I—no.” you reply, quickly. “Can I offer you something to drink, uh…” you still don’t know her name.
“Cassandra.” she smirks. A name as beautiful as the rest of her.
“Can I offer you a drink, Cassandra?” The offer makes her smirk widen, almost to the point of a grin. It’s cute but you’re not sure you want to know why the question amuses her so greatly.
“Depends.” she retorts, taking off her gloves. “My choice of drink is very… singular.”
“Well, there’s wine. It’s… good.”
She eyes you for a moment. There is hunger in her gaze, something deep, as it lingers over your collarbones. Then she averts her head in favor of looking about the house. It can’t be anything like the castle she lives in, but it’s quaint, at least. Her heels click against the wooden floor. They come to a stop in front of the small table your sketchbook lies upon.
“You draw?” she questions, curious as a child.
Please, don’t look inside. you pray. The rough sketches of sheet-clad brunettes will surely give your tastes away and your heart can’t take that embarrassment on top of everything else right now.
“Landscapes and stuff. When I’m bored.” you lie to save your dignity.
“I’m a bit of an artist myself.” she grins proudly. “I paint.”
“…acrylics?” you ask.
Cassandra gives you that secretive smile again. The one that is both hot and scary at once. “You could say that, yeah.” If any of the rumors have basis in reality, you don’t want to think about what she could be painting with. Some things are best left unsaid.
“So. I got your order.” you say, taking the box in your hands.
Cassandra walks to you and takes the object between her pale fingers like it weighs nothing. You’re left staring. At her hand, then her eyes, looking into your own with that same curiosity from earlier. “I’m sure mother will like it.” Then, after a pause, “She’d like you, too.”
You’re not sure what to say to that.
“You’d look good in the castle. But then I’d have to share you and I don’t think I’d like that.” Her fingers absently toy with the hem of your shirt while she speaks. It’s terribly distracting, to the point you almost miss what she says. It’s not fair that everything about Cassandra is just so damn attractive…
You like her, you realize. You already knew that you’re weak to her looks and her grace and the way she talks, so it’s not a startling revelation. But what is surprising is the mirror of what you’re thinking in her eyes. She likes you back.
She could just turn and leave, yet she doesn’t.
Instead, she lifts her hand to your chin. Traps it between thumb and pointer… and leans in. You think she’s going to kiss you goodbye on the cheek again, like the last time. Instead, her lips find the corner of your mouth and leave you breathless.
For a heartbeat, you don’t move.
Cassandra lingers, almost unsure but unwilling to let go.
A certain part of your brain is triggered and the sense of danger and reason keeping you back evaporates. You turn your head to kiss her fully, sucking on her lower lip, running your tongue over its softness until she opens her mouth to let you in. She tastes like strawberry lipbalm and wine and oh God you’ll die right there with that little moan she gives.
You end up holding her sides and she the back of your neck until you have to pull back or you’ll melt into an aroused puddle on the floor.
She looks as dazed as you feel. Her nails dig into your skin but your warmed body only draws pleasure from the slight sting.
Cassandra’s hooded eyes drop to your throat like a woman left thirsty in the desert far too long. “…does the offer for a drink still apply?” The breathy quality her voice has taken does things to you. You can only nod and trust she won’t kill you. She did ask, so your chances are probably decent.
Brown hair tickles your nose. She’s wonderfully close, the length of her cool body pressed against yours. You can feel the swell of her breasts and the firmness of her thigh almost as if there are no clothes between you. Your body is alight, heart pounding. You want her.
“Keep still for me, beautiful.” she says with a little growl to your ear and—
Pain comes.
Sharp. Biting.
You don’t expect it. A harsh gasp leaves your throat. You can feel twin needles embedded in your skin, breaking open your vein. The corners of your eyes prickle. Something thick and wet trails down your collarbone while she swallows mouthfuls, keeping you tighter in place. It’s agonizing, at first, but the area begins to numb, then fill with a pleasant tingle.
You can’t tell when Cassandra stops drinking from you, but you feel her tongue on your neck, following the red trail down before it ruins your shirt.
Your brain can’t comprehend what just happened, yet something about it is just so raw and erotic you know you won’t be able to sleep for days without the thought of her haunting you.
“You’re delicious, darling.” she breathes, eyes brighter than before, licking her lips like a lioness.
You want to reply, but you nearly wobble on your feet. “Ugh.”
“Take it easy and dress your wound.” she smiles, fingertips tracing the slope of your jaw. “I’ll come by again, sometime.”
Your hands tighten on her sides, but she only gives a little laugh –and steps away too easily. Her hood is pulled back on. A last molten look is sent over her shoulder.
Then, your mind halts for the hundredth time that night as you watch her figure disperse into a swarm of insects and black swirls. The door closes behind Cassandra.
Your hand slowly reaches up to your neck, where the imprint of her teeth in you –her mark left on you– yet throbs.
Ko-Fi
#Cassandra Dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu#Cassandra Dimitrescu x OC#lady dimitrescu's daughters#lady dimitrescu's daughters x oc#resident evil 8#resident evil village#fanfiction#sexy vampires are sexy#I'm in love with the entire family send help
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What would the ro's be like in a zombie au?
whyyyyy anon whyyy. I'm actually gonna write this in like.. slightly different terms, you'll see. any time I even briefly think of a zombie au I'm just like
I WANNA WRITE IT SO BADDD
i don't even allow myself to entertain it for very long because getting into that would be the worst thing ever for my productivity with the alpha omg 😂😂 so I'll put like the ideas that pop into my head for writing a zombie au, to work some of that creative frustration out 😆
so in this very general, absolutely noncommittal idea of mine, the main cast are older and the setting is in and around a civilian settlement led by the Emersons.
and as a refresher, i like my zombie aus to have fast zombies and fast infections ^ ^ 28 Days Later/Train to Busan style babyyyy, we the Sprinting Dead up in this bitch 😆
= = =
Gabe is, predictably, looking for what's left of his family. Following rumors of safe havens and bunkers and such. Starts the story as someone who tries to be diplomatic, if not outright pacifist, but as times get tougher and resources dwindle, he'd become one of the most cutthroat motherfuckers in the wasteland. Low-key though, low-key. People won't trust you if they know you’re capable of throwing them to a horde for strategic reasons. Like if Rick turned into Shane (for those of us familiar with early Walking Dead--idk did that happen eventually? i gave up before we even met Negan lol). The end justifies the means :) Damn, I can legit see Gabe going full evil in a zombie au omg 😂😂 i want to write it so fucking bad
Preferred weapon for zed encounters: rifle
Preferred weapon for human encounters: handgun
Faith in humanity: fucking zero
Zombie kill count: plenty; the type to kill every zombie he has spare ammo and time for
Human kill policy: When it benefits him or the people he’s looking after
Survival rating: B+; he can make it out of some pretty dire situations through sheer will to live and ruthlessness
- - -
Kile has arrived--clearly, this is the timeline they belong in. They start their journey with Gabe (and their doggo) and stick to him like glue, even reluctantly so when Gabe eventually has them join the settlement. This can only go one way, though: Kile's just too much of a wildcard for the group and hates being told what to do. (Especially now that society has fallen, wtf) They'd make their exit alone and unannounced aside from a brief head’s up to Gabe. It's slightly bittersweet, but also? They get to loot and hunt and sneak around and kill fucking zombies, all by themself. Kile is a loner, a hiker, and a hunter to begin with so they do beyond fine on their own. However, once the inevitable violent human threat comes for the settlement, Gabe is sent out to convince Kile to come out of isolation, just this once please, to be the camp’s super soldier help defend the camp.
Zed weapon: p much anything they can get their hands on, ranged or melee, blunt or sharp, w/e; improvised weapons
Human weapon: hunting knife
Faith in humanity: never had any to begin with
Zombie kill count: lol infinite?? any zed they come across is double-dead if they have the time for it
Human kill policy: at Gabe’s direction or when provoked enough/threatened
Survival rating: A-; they trust no one, live in isolation, and prioritize survival above all else. only reason it’s not higher is they would risk their life for Gabe or their furbaby and also... their own Rambo-esque antics def attracts the occasional horde lmao
- - -
Jack... this poor boy, he doesn't deserve a zombie au 😂 He's one of those people that first believes zombies are just sick people, too squeamish to keep up with TV news coverage at the onset and too upset to consider anything else. He'd hunker down at home, staying holed up even while his neighbors evacuated, and probably be discovered while the main group is looting the same place as him. When people try to tell him the real state of the world, he'd be in denial until he absolutely couldn't be anymore. idk, probably after Kile shooting a bunch of non-lethal holes thru a zombie to make a point (attracting more in the process lol).
He’d almost immediately join the medical team at the settlement and as word spreads about how easy he is to talk to, he quickly becomes the literal on-site therapist. It's a role he embraces but... idk if it's an emotional burden he can bear. He's very emotionally resilient! But he ain't a professional lol imagine a whole settlement of traumatized zombie survivors seeking you out for counseling, yikes. He also can't say no to a person in need, so instead he quietly spirals into a very private depression while continuing to help others!!
Zed weapon: Oh gosh, do I really have to?
Human weapon: ...Kindness?
Faith in humanity: Unrealistically high
Zombie kill count: Single digit
Human kill policy: Not ever, unless completely unavoidable and to defend the defenseless
Survival rating: C...? idk, that feels generous. D+. To be protected at all costs!!
- - -
Jessie also had the initial reaction of hoping zombies could be saved, but she woke up from that dream swiftly. The science-minded person that she is, esp with her interest in biology, leaves her determined to find anybody who's got the intellect, expertise, and resources to start doing actual work toward a treatment, cure, vaccine—anything. Nothing would get her to finally unabashedly embrace her love of science (and innate leadership skills!!) faster than a zombie apocalypse! In fact, it’s thanks to her that the Emerson settlement’s got a small but growing team of scientists doing as much research as humanly possible to best educate the others on the outbreak and zombie behavior. Def no zombie experimentation going on though lol. ...Not yet, at least.
Zed weapon: rifle
Human weapon: rifle
Faith in humanity: High! We’ll find a solution! Don’t give up hope!
Zombie kill count: Double digits, but less than 30
Human kill policy: Only in unavoidable self-defense or defense of others
Survival rating: B! She has experience with ranged weapons, farming and gardening skills, first aid, camping experience, and a can-do attitude with a healthy dose of realism!
- - -
Rain remains cargo as I said in the last post about this 😆 They'd be very good for keeping clothes repaired and making useful modifications in the settlement, but their life up to this point has been very sheltered and privileged. We're talking somebody with a chauffeur and a personal chef before the outbreak! They would contribute to quality of life and homemaking efforts more than anything—an overlooked aspect of these scenarios tbh! After as many months of dragging their feet as possible and being nigh impossible to track down when you need them, they eventually become involved in meal planning and even help out with medical stuff if they're asked.
Zed weapon: how do you reload this thing again?
Human weapon: switchblade or other concealable sharp-pointy
Faith in humanity: Very low
Zombie kill count: 0! Can you believe it!
Human kill policy: Well if it’s you or me, of course I’m choosing me.
Survival rating: C. Being so tiny helps them find good hiding spots and their self-preservation is high enough to keep them from unnecessary risk-taking. Plus they're very stealthy! Self-defense is a major issue though, so hiding is always their best option.
- - -
Rupan/Rohan scouts for and leads scavenging missions and is Curt's right hand on the recruitment team. The two of them together are the perfect combo of diplomacy, debate, and deception--although R is more honorable about the last one and will only deceive for strategic reasons. When they aren’t looting and recruiting, they’re doing peacekeeping inside the settlement. Most social disputes end up getting brought to them for mediation and they’re pretty dang good at making and enforcing calls. One day they’ll wake up to realize they’ve basically become a sheriff and feel the need to puke their guts up and do something, anything, to reassure themself they’re still punk 😂
Zed weapon: SMG
Human weapon: shotgun
Faith in humanity: Believes in fundamental goodness but knows better than to trust first impressions
Zombie kill count: decent, more than 40; you won’t catch them having a field day tho, they’re trying to gtfo of most zed situations
Human kill policy: Violent threats have to be taken out. And they aren’t, at all, immune to a revenge rampage either...
Survival rating: B-. Can handle themself both with humans and zeds but is vulnerable to hostage situations and truly difficult sentimental/interpersonal decisions!
- - -
Vivian/Vincent manages inventory and stock and they run it so efficiently it’s scary! They're the perfect pick: a hawk-eyed tyrant and tattletale 😂 Despite constantly butting heads with just about everyone on every imaginable thing, they quickly become an important part of the inner circle of decision-makers for the settlement at large. Terrible at stealth, jumpy, and squeamish at the sight of blood and gore, they literally never go on missions unless they're 100% needed for their expertise on a supply run. (They would deny all of these shortcomings are that big a problem, meanwhile R is definitely acting as their bodyguard lol.) When they do tag along, they're prone to becoming the damsel in distress. Seriously, it happens near every fucking time. It's like they just attract only the most improbable and perilous zombie attacks and hostage situations 😆
Zed weapon: shotgun
Human weapon: handgun
Faith in humanity: Medium; seeing people work together at the settlement helps restore it a bit
Zombie kill count: Double digits, under 25
Human kill policy: Violent threats have to be taken out. Well, no, not by me! Get one of the ruffians to do it!
Survival rating: C-. They’d be higher if they weren’t such natural zombie bait.
- - -
Heidi is running the settlement, well-organized to the degree of actually managing to bring bureaucracy to a post-zombie apocalypse settlement 😂 People are free to come and go, but getting in if you don't live there requires trading something of value (fuel, med supplies, food, etc), temporary surrender and registry of firearms and explosives, and you gotta GTFO at the time and date specified upon entry! You can stay long-term if you contribute to the community in a tangible way—and each person admitted is approved by Heidi personally. Yes, every individual. No, she has no free time. And she is not known to be lenient with rule breakers—you want rule bending, you’ll have to go to Curt for that. People kind of hate her, but it can't be denied that she runs a tight ship. She kind of throws herself into the work to avoid the harsher reality at large and hasn't left the settlement in a long time. She's out of touch with how bad things have gotten in the wastes, but she knows better than to take reports at anything less than face value--even when she's skeptical.
Zed weapon: rifle
Human weapon: handgun; dagger
Faith in humanity: Medium. It fluctuates, honestly
Zombie kill count: Double digits, less than 20
Human kill policy: Violent threats must be taken out if they can’t be reasoned with. Spare those who surrender, eradicate those who don't, keep an eye on the newbies. Not tryin’ to nurse any vendettas around here lol
Survival rating: B. She's good with a firearm, masterful at persuasion, and savvy enough to calculate risks appropriately. Also far tougher than her prim exterior and demeanor suggests!
- - -
Curt leads the recruitment and reconnaissance teams! When a new person or group shows up in the area, Curt's the one who stalks watches them, decides if they're worth approaching, and if they should be approached with an invitation, a simple acknowledgment/announcement of their presence, or an outright armed warning to leave the area. He also keeps tabs on morale and general confidence inside the settlement, alongside R. When he isn’t leading those efforts, though, he’s flirting with settlers and squirreling his way out of manual labor and other chores. He’s also secretly growing weed at his place--don’t tell Heidi or Vi ‘cause they’ll wanna yell at him and ration it UGH.
Zed weapon: SMG, explosives
Human weapon: handgun, dagger
Faith in humanity: Pft, sorry, what now?
Zombie kill count: ...way more than you’d expect
Human kill policy: I don’t start confrontations, but I sure as fuck end them.
Survival rating: A! He’s good at playing hapless idiot when it suits him to be underestimated, good with firearms, and capable of being ruthless and decisive in life or death situations! Plus he has no qualms about ditching the settlement if he decides it’s not working out for him. Just don’t tell Heidi lol
#the rest are under the cuuuut#had to stop myself from writing too much SEVERAL times#love me a zombie apocalypse#lovely anon#answered#ROs#whoops got carried away lol#spent most of my work day finally finishing this ask because VIVA PROCRASTINATION#someone help ._.#phew#feels good to finally get it out of my system tho#now I can promptly never ever write it 😂#AUs#fave#scenarios
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The Little Things (Platonic)
Requested Imagine: “Could you please do an agents of shield x reader in season 4 when the reader got taken by Aida early in the season and was replaced with an Lmd so when daisy and jemma are escaping the base and coulson is chasing them the reader is with may and sacrifices herself with her. So when daisy and jemma find her in the framework it’s just sad and a happy reunion?”
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Anniversaries where weird, they came around every year and yet you were expected to do something different for them; maybe a party or going out for the night or whatever.
There were different kinds too; Birthdays, holiday seasons, time since abandonment/ death.
Wait, what?
Daisy had been celebrating the last and final time she had been abandoned and sent back to sent back to the orphanage. At least that one made her runaway and meet you guys.
Speaking of you guys, she was currently looking at a photo of you and your father that you had in your room. She knew that the death of him still weighed on you heavily. She had wanted to find you and try and provide some comfort but had instead found an empty room with that photo.
“Hey,” Daisy said in greeting to her scientist best friend. Jemma looked at her with a smile in greeting, “Have you noticed anything different about Y/N?” Jemma furrowed her eyebrows in thought at the question.
“I’m….not too sure. I haven’t seen her much. Maybe she’s busy.” Jemma suggested, but Daisy could tell her friend was now trying to piece it together.
“I mean, sure. But, with what? We’re all trying to stop the Watchdogs here. To my knowledge, there’s not much else going on really.
“There she is.” Daisy said, moving over to you when you entered the lab in a more dejected fashion, “Hey, Y/nn.” She said, giving you a friendly smile.
Yours was timid, but it was expected, “Hey.” You said in your naturally soft voice.
Daisy fought the urge to look back to Simmons, despite knowing her friend’s eyes were on you both like a hawk, “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something….Are you ok?” She was blunt, both because she didn’t have another way to phrase it, and she just genuinely wanted to know what was hurting another of her best friends.
She knew Jemma was the same when someone she cared about was hurting, so she knew the British woman would back her up if needed.
You went to answer, but your eyes glossed over a little. She turned to see who it was, only to see Coulson talking to Simmons.
When Daisy looked back to you, she saw you gulp back those tears that had piled up. It was then that it hit her on what the issue was.
She softened her eyes and posture as it hit her, “Oh, Y/nn.” She said in a softened voice, as if not to scare a wounded animal.
“I’m sorry.” You said, as if at fault. But you had a slight laugh at the end of it, even if a teary one.
“No, you have nothing to be sorry for! We should’ve noticed –”
“It’s ok.” You assured her, but you could tell she didn’t fully believe it, “Daisy, I’m fine, really. It’s just a thing I’m going through. I’m not just this, you know.” You told her. You then left, not wanting to be reminded of your dad any longer.
She watched you leave, but her gaze was worried. She was older, so it was her job to look out for you. She knew how you could be at times.
It had been a few days since that time, and the sister figures had done a decent job of dealing with this latest issue while also helping you deal with your own. Or, rather, they thought they had been.
They both watched as you walked with more of a confident one. Don’t get them wrong, they were kind of glad to see it. But they couldn’t help the nagging feeling they both seemed to share when they met each other’s gazes with a look.
The look that conveyed that both thought something was wrong. They just weren’t sure on what that was.
“She seems….happy.” Daisy didn’t really have another way to put it. Part of her did feel a little envois of it.
Fitz, seemingly realising this, approached her and put a hand on her shoulder, “Maybe she’s found some peace with it. Grieving is different for everyone.” He reminded her, gently. Trying not to cross a line that had been drawn in the sand the second Lincoln had died.
She put a hand on Fitz’s, squeezing it. She did appreciate her brother’s attempt at comfort, really, “I know….it’s just, I didn’t expect it this quick.” She admitted.
Jemma couldn’t help the nod, “Y/N always feels before she acts. She never did leave things on the best of footings.” She didn’t exactly want to talk about this behind your back. But, the three seemed to agree one thing, anyway.
This flip of yours wasn’t normal.
It was later still, and everything was falling apart. Jemma and Daisy’s hunch was right, you were an LMD (a Life Model Decoy. A robot version of yourself essentially) and so where most of the team. Everything was spiralling. But none so more than Jemma Simmons.
The woman had just ‘killed’ the love of her life in a bid of survival. Daisy had watched it happen, the two sisters at each other’s throats for a moment. However, they soon realised that they were all that was left of the crew and were the only ones capable of bringing everyone else back.
“Hey, Jem, we will get Y/N back, alright? I promise you.” She said, firmly standing by that belief.
“I can’t lose you, either of you, Daisy! Please don’t do this!” Jemma begged one of her sister figures, the one she could save right now to not risk it all and die.
“I made you a promise Jemma, ok? Now, I can’t get out of here without your help. But, once we do, we will find the others. We will find Y/N and we will bring her home.”
She held out a hand for Jemma, one that was then clasped as the two rose up off of the floor, “We got this.” She assured her.
She was sure of it; she was going to bring you all home.
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Jemma and Daisy had met you at the same time, on the BUS when the team was first formed. You had been with SHIELD for a while, but you always seemed to be a background extra type of agent, you just kept your head down and did the work.
This would be your first time as a main and in the spotlight.
Skye was new, thrown into the deep end and told to swim. So far, she had managed to, barely. But, barely being above water was always more preferable than being under it and drowning.
When she saw you, though, she saw someone else who was slightly over in their head and out of their element. Hell, even the people she’d come to see as the siblings she never had (Fitzsimmons, but that list included you) seemed it as well.
Still, you succeeded in your mission, bringing Mike Peterson in non-lethally. However, it was what happened after that made Daisy want to befriend you both.
It wasn’t just that you both shared the same sense of humour, or that Jemma was one of the kindest souls she knew.
No, it was the way you all took care of each other. It was the way Jemma seemed to notice that you were a bit shaken. So, in her own awkward way that she had back then, she took you into the lab and helped calm you by injecting you with something to calm you with.
She then sat with you and got to know you, letting you rant and get it all out of your system. However, what made Daisy smile the most was the way she didn’t mind; she was more than wiling to lend an ear.
Who was there to talk to Skye when she relapsed a little with some of her old coping mechanisms? Jemma.
Who was there to pick her up when she fell or failed at a thing Ward wanted her to do? You were.
Who was there when you had a panic attack or had a depressive episode? They were.
Your sister hood was born through all of those factors.
They had released the sleeping gas, and it had worked on some of the agents. Other than that, it had alerted everyone else to their presence.
LMD Mace (the new face of SHIELD) made a b-line for Daisy. She didn’t mind, she was more then ready to kick fake-Mace’s ass anyway. It would help her vent her frustration over this whole mess anyway.
Plus, she knew it was something you’d do, it was a trick you’d picked up from the academy; to channel your pain and anger into your opponents, but not letting it rule and ruin you.
Still, pain was pain and pain hurt. It especially hurt more when the emotional turned physical. For her, it was when she was shot in the back by LMD Coulson, then by LMD Mack. Two of her closest friends coming to bring an end to her.
No, she had the real versions to save. She had a family to bring back home.
So, she channelled all that pain and hurt; the abandonment and scars she had endured and gathered over her time before she met you all, and put it into her Quake that sent the both flying backwards and threw the glass, shattering that that wasn’t already in that state.
Slowly, she got to her feet. She was bleeding from the bullet wounds, but also the scratches and bruises were finally catching up with her. She made her way to the door, having to lean against the doorway to steady herself.
As she did, Jemma noticed her and helped guide her to the cart they were pushing. They then hatched a vague plan of Agent Davis flying them out. He hadn’t had much experience, but she didn’t care at this point.
Daisy hit the floor, groaning as she did so. A hand was offered to her, she took it graciously. Once she was up, she faced you once again, “Neat trick, where’d you learn that one?” She asked. The trick in question was a bit of foul play in terms of getting your opponent on the ground. Something SHIELD definitely would frown upon.
“Dad.” You said, wanting to leave it at that.
Daisy, with her experience of parents, nodded and let it go, “He would always take me out to a place like this and train me. Told me it’d help calm me when I was anything but. He only did it when he saw that I was getting stressed, though.”
“No other time other than that?”
“No other time. I got myself through those one’s though.” You said with a cheery smile. Daisy mirrored it, but it wasn’t as bright.
‘You shouldn’t have had to, though’ she thought to herself.
One obstacle she didn’t bank on (or want to) deal with, was LMD you. However, it seemed you were a packaged deal in his one; with LMD you came LMD May.
And, with that deal, came a remote detonator in your hands.
“Y/N….May.” She said, brain working overtime to try and find a way out of this that didn’t involve getting blown up, “You don’t wanna do this.” She said, opting on that one.
“We have no other option.” LMD you said, “Coulson told us to stay here and stop you if you tried to leave, we’re doing just that.”
“But you don’t want to hurt us, right?” Jemma asked, trembling smile on her face as she looked between you both.
“Coulson says that doesn’t matter.” LMD May replied with.
“That doesn’t sound like Coulson.” Daisy argued.
“Either way, we won’t have to regret this decision.” May said, putting her finger closer to it.
“Wait!” Daisy called out, “You have to feel something.” She tried.
“Y/N, I need you to look at me,” You complied, “You have to feel something right now, right?” She was tired, oh so tired. But she was so close.
She saw something glimmer in your eye, “Something.” You agreed.
“That’s love, Y/N. That’s love for us and the team, you’re family. I know you care about us, and that you don’t want to hurt us. Please Y/N….” She watched you as the conflict in you grew and grew.
They made their way up the ramp, Daisy almost collapsing as Jemma held her, shouldering her weight. She was bleeding badly, borderline passing out.
However, she had bought them the time they needed to start up the Quinjet and have it rise out just as the explosions rocked the base, “Thank you Y/N….I’m coming.” She said in a tired voice as she gulped, finally processing the fact that her plan had worked.
She found you sat in an unused Quinjet (something she’d then do herself much later on in time) and just sitting there. You were spaced out, as something had clearly hurt you.
Jemma was sat next to you, hand holding your own as you seemed to hold it like a lifeline, your head rested on her shoulder. Her head rested atop your own.
She made her way over, sitting on your other side and grabbing your other hand. She didn’t ask the cliché question; she just held your hand.
“My dad……he -- he….” You couldn’t get through it without choking on the words. However, it was all Jemma and Daisy needed to know as they both tightened their hold on your hands.
“We’ve got you.” Daisy promised you, “You have us.”
“….I know, thank you both. You guys being the closest things I’ve had to sisters and you’re all the closest thing I’ve had to a stable family.” You said, giving them all a teary smile. They mirrored it.
“Of course, that’s what friends are for.” Jemma pulled you both into a hug at the words.
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The framework was a world that they, obviously, didn’t know. They were outsiders here, having to adapt to a new world that they barely knew the rules of.
What they did know, was that HYDRA were in control and all of their friends were scattered all over the place.
So, they were off to a great start, it seemed.
Daisy had found May, but quickly learnt that the woman didn’t know anything about the other world. She was then called into a meeting. Following May, she found someone else she was looking for. That being you.
You were quieter in this world. You didn’t seem to really have any friends, you seemed to just keep to yourself.
She sat down in the chair and listened to the briefing, but you ignored her gaze as it flickered to you every now and then.
As she did what she could to really pay attention to the briefing on the target, she couldn’t help but wonder one thing: where you always like this? Was this a side to you she either didn’t know about or didn’t want to acknowledge?
You had, obviously, been in the field for longer than Daisy had. Still, she saw the way you handled yourself on the field like any other agent. They were still pieces of the person she saw, though, the friend she had made and the sister she had grown to know and love. It was in the blush you’d get at praise, or the way you would always give her an encouraging look whenever she was send off on a mission.
She had been found out trying to help Mack, only to find that he was forced into going with what she said. It had led to her being the cell.
AIDA had walked in, trying to offer a life with Lincoln. As much as she wanted it, she knew it wouldn’t be worth letting the rest of you all die. Lincoln wouldn’t want that.
So, AIDA tried something else, “You know….that Y/N sure is a tricky person to work out,” She smirked at the way Daisy fixed her with a dark look, “So many layers to unpack. Seemed her father was just the tip of the iceberg.” She seemed to enjoy the taunting.
“Leave her out of this.” Daisy tried to muster up as much hate as she could, but the beatings had taken it out of her.
AIDA, however, seemed a bit impressed, “Still got it, don’t you? That fire and spark, yet a caring and protective side as well?”
“If you touch even one hair on her head –”
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t hurt her. She’s living without her regret of opening up,” Daisy looked shocked at the news, “That’s right, she wished she was a little less open. Now, I wouldn’t have gone with that with everything she’s been through. But people can be surprising.” AIDA then got up, “Hope he doesn’t kill you.” With that, she walked away.
She was left in the hands of Fitz, hands that used to be caring but now were used for hurting. The darkness that Fitz had always struggled with had come to the surface, and this one seemed to relish in it.
She was alone, clinging onto what life was left within her. She was, at least, until the doors opened. Looking up, she saw not only May, but you as well.
A moment later, she had her powers back and the three of you were breaking out. She sent AIDA through the glass and looked at the body on the floor with a sense of triumph.
You were here, and you were on her side. Don’t get her wrong, she was happy May was too. But May wasn’t the name used to make her give into AIDA’s demands.
Turns out the robot was wrong, which Daisy was thankful for.
The way back was met with danger, but what was new? Well, mainly your cynicism.
They were talking about the Patriot (Mace’s alter ego in this world) having been killed in an airstrike. As you spoke about it, May revealed some key information on it. That being that it was her who had caused the death.
“You couldn’t have known.” Daisy comforted, looking at you as if expecting the same.
“She did, but she did it anyway.” She definitely didn’t expect that. May, however, nodded at it.
Seemed the cold and warmth you both had was swapped to a degree.
“What?” You asked her, finally confronting her on her staring and look she was giving you.
“Nothing.” She said, looking away.
You made it to the TV station, going in and uploading the footage May had that would put HYDRA in the ground.
When Daisy left the room after her talk with Ward, she saw you looking at the footage with an expression of anger. She approached you, “What’s wrong?” She asked as she came beside you.
“My dad was killed by HYDRA, turns out,” You said bluntly. Daisy was lightly taken aback by it, you had never been like that before in this type of fashion, “And only now am I just hearing about it.”
“I’m sorry.” She offered in a heartfelt gesture to try and find the sisterly bond you had back home.
You shook your head, “Yeah, well, I’m more pissed at just finding out now than the event itself. We were never the closest, so….” You said in a flat tone.
“Family is family.”
“Sure.” She could tell you just wanted to move on. So, she let that request be followed through with.
You had made it back to the base, where Daisy reunited with Jemma. She had a large smile when she saw that it was you, pulling you in for a hug. You may not have known who she was, but you returned it, for her sake. She seemed like she could need it if she was honest.
She pulled away, seemingly giving you a once over with a beaming smile at the fact you were there. As said, you didn’t know who she was, but this meant something to her, so you just let her have this moment.
Daisy and the team where waiting for you at the entrance to the base, you were coming home from a few months of undercover work and they all stood eagerly awaiting you.
The door had opened, but they had gotten their hopes up before only to be disappointed before. Still, they looked, and this time it was you.
You had a conflicted look on your face, but a smile was on your face as your eyes went glassy. Daisy was right over, embracing you, one you returned tightly.
“This is new.” She joked, in reference to how tightly you hugged.
“Just….I need this.” She complied with it, tightening her own hug as well.
Her family was whole once again, that was all that mattered.
She was then arguing with Jemma about how they unfortunately couldn’t save Fitz, when she said something that she wasn’t meant to, “We need to get everyone out first! Then we can save Fitz! Look, this Y/N isn’t the one we know, Jemma. I need my sister back the way she was.” She didn’t even think about it, she just wanted to get you all back home and get her family back.
However, at a scoff, they both looked and saw you stood a small distance away, clearly having heard those words as you shook your head.
“So, what, I’m the broken one?” You didn’t even give her a chance as you then walked away. Jemma took a shaky breath as she looked to Daisy, the two sister’s having a silent discussion about who should see you.
In the end, it was Jemma who had left.
Daisy sat on one of the spare beds, mind racing with thoughts of how to proceed. She knew that you guys needed to know eventually that this place wasn’t real, but she didn’t expect you to find out like that. Hell, she definitely didn’t expect the reaction she got from you, the scoff, and the look of anger.
A moment later, however, you came and sat next to her. She almost didn’t believe it, that you were here. But she only waited for you to talk. Now, she expected anything.
“So….was I like a square peg in ‘the real word’?” You asked, keeping your eyes straight ahead, but you decided to just be blunt in this moment.
Daisy chuckled a bit, lowering her head to the ground as she did so, “Yeah, or I thought you were anyway. Stupid, huh?” She chastised herself.
“Nah,” Now you both met eyes, “You….I only showed you part of who I was. But, there’s more to me than my dad’s death. I appreciate the help that you apparently gave me there, I do really appreciate it. But, that’s not the only thing I’ve got going on. Just like I’m sure that you’ve suffered a lot more than you’ll ever let on, which I respect not wanting to go into. But, there’s to us then one thing.”
She nodded, “I know, and I’m sorry that I did that. I just wanted to help.”
“I know you did, but I’m not always going to be that sad person you need to protect. I can do that myself, just like you can too.” You told her.
“Ok.” She said, finally letting herself believe it that she didn’t know everything about you.
She then moved it onto the issue at hand, “So….now you know….What do you think?” She asked.
You gave it some thought, “Oh, you know, it’s out there. Then again, most things here have been.” You gave her one of your soft smiles that she was used to.
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So, you had come around to it, and you were now all packing up to leave through a backdoor that Doctor Radcliff (one of the creators of this place) had left for you all to get out.
Now, you just had to get to that place. So, you all got the crew together, boarded the Quinjet, then went to that place.
That place was a factory, but you weren’t one to judge. Or, rather, this version of you wasn’t? Maybe? You didn’t know, no one had really told you. All you knew was that Jemma had approached this version of you the way you were here, which was nice.
On the way, Daisy had started to do that, you saw it was a pain and struggle, but she was trying. That was all you could thank her for.
You all entered the warehouse, with the gateway being a drop into lava. Not the best exit, but a way out was a way out.
Mack had then found out, and he wasn’t exactly taking it well. Like, not well at all. You, however, kept an eye out, it was going too well.
And it was, as HYDRA agents stormed the place and fired at you all. You all went for cover as you did what you could to keep them off Daisy as she held out her hand, her power opening the portal.
As you all did what you could, members slowly went through; May and Coulson were first, then a bleeding Fitz and Jemma, then it was all of you that were left.
As you made your way to it, a bullet struck you, taking you to the ground. Daisy wanted to stop and run over, but she then saw the look in your eyes that told her one thing; keep going.
You were bleeding, and you weren’t doing great on the moving department at first, but you then started to. Mack was still covering you, even grabbing your gun as a backup.
As you moved and Mack covered, she took a breath before putting her hand back out as the power left her hands again a hit the portal.
As it opened, she checked on you again. She knew some part of you would want help, but right now that part wasn’t the one that was there. This was the one that cared more about others, the one that let them be helped instead of you.
You finally made it to the portal, you gave her a look, “See you on the other side.” She smiled at you. Then, you fell into it.
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You were all out, and AIDA was defeated. You all sat at a bar, with your family. Daisy looked at your food, different from what you’d normally get.
“Look at you, being all reckless.” She joked.
“Maybe for today, sure.”
She smiled and shook her head. She didn’t know what else you had to show her that was new, but she was willing to see. She knew people couldn’t just be codified and put in a box. People were different, they grew and changed.
#agents of shield imagine#agents of s.h.i.e.l.d imagine#daisy johnson x reader#daisy johnson imagine
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Tattoos of Your Heart(beat)
Alternatively called: “Wearing Your Heart on My Sleeve”
Word count: 7001
You might want to read this on your laptop since there are those line things and they don’t show on mobile. Have fun love, it’s a long’un. I added a read more thing so that might help a little.
The idea was that Logan had tattoos because I like that idea so I added the twist that he could feel the other’s heartbeats through the tattoos. He starts off with three for Roman, Patton and Virgil, and then he adds one for Deceit later on. It got a bit wild and out there and it ended up being much longer than anticipated so I hope it’s not too long for you to read through. If it gets boring tell me where so I can change it before I upload it on AO3 tomorrow. Have fun and if you don’t like something let me know :)
Usually, when the skin of your inner forearm begins to vibrate it would be cause for alarm and rightly so, should your skin begin to vibrate you should probably get that checked out, but Logan was unlike most people. When the patch skin on his forearm in a specific shape began to vibrate gently he knew exactly what to do, as he did with many other things, and proceeded to take care of the issue as soon as it appeared. This usually led to the skin stopping its incessant vibration until further notice, thus Logan could return to his room and be untroubled by problems once more. But on certain days Logan found it more trouble than it was worth to deal with the vibrations and on these days, he would wait for it to sort itself out, rather than work to find a solution on his own. Sometimes it worked itself away quickly, stopping mere moments after it began, other times it would last from dusk till dawn and then some as if purposely trying to annoy him. He couldn’t be mad, however, because he had chosen for this to happen to him, chosen to take this burden and work with it.
Today was one of those days when his wrist would not stop vibrating, it had begun as a small tingle and worked into the worst of its forms. Logan had retreated to his room, knowing full well why it was doing so and felt an itch begin lower down. He could only hope his problems hadn’t spread but low and behold the vibrations began on a lower spot of his arm, eventually spreading so the skin of his inner right forearm was a mess of tingling sensations. The vibrations didn’t stop until late afternoon when he’d almost scratched the pale peach into a bloody mess. When at last they stopped he felt momentary relief before there was a knocking at his door and he had to hide his reddened arm behind his back so whoever was calling on him wouldn’t see it.
Though even if they had seen it there wouldn’t have been much they could do, Logan had been living with his self-inflicted curse for years and he wasn’t about to get a lecture when it was for their own safety. Let no one call him selfish for invading the others privacy a tad with his own body. That is to say, let no one call him selfish for using his arm as a warning device to perceive their pain and suffering. It hurt, not being able to tell them though he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he couldn’t tell them, perhaps he was embarrassed or afraid of what they may think, but that aside he had no qualms with airing his little secret alarm system. His alarm system was brilliant, or at least it had been before Thomas became more open to dating and dealt with more issues than he should on a regular basis. Back before that Logan had found it a wonderful and useful tool that helped him gain the upper hand when it came to dealing with the other facets and all because of three little tattoos.
Well, to be more specific they weren’t ordinary tattoos, they allowed him to feel the other facets heartbeats. He had thought it ingenious, the ability to tell whether someone was happy based on the pitter-patter of the heartbeat under his skin, but then the breakups and panic attacks came and while Logan was grateful he was able to help in some regard it wore him out like nothing else. To say he was tired would be an understatement, but with the others problems always a step ahead of his own he had more concerning things to deal with than his health. Surely comforting Patton to the best of his ability, making sure the increased heart rate of Roman was from something exhilarating and non-lethal, and Virgil’s panic attacks were taken care of were more important than a good nights rest. Surely. He couldn’t tell if he was being selfish by thinking about things such as sleep anymore, his mind full of what that small vibration from the tattoo on his wrist could mean.
The tattoos themselves were somewhat miraculous to look at; Virgil’s situated on his inner wrist was a watercolour storm cloud almost realistic looking with a bolt of white lighting that actually disappeared now and again when Virgil’s heartbeat had slowed to a steady thirty beats per minute. Roman’s was a step down in between Virgil’s and Patton’s and drawn in red and gold ink, a shield and two swords made of red and detailed in gold with the Disney castle situated in the middle of the shield. The final tattoo, closest to Logan’s elbow, was Patton’s. An anatomically correct heart drawn in light blue ink with botanically correct flowers blooming behind it and from the cardiovascular tubes, each tinted a either pink, blue or purple.
Where these came in more useful was when Logan needed to meditate and relax, listening to three hearts beat somewhat out of sync but altogether restfully could help him drift off with even the most pressing matters on his mind. He’d often press two fingers to each in turn, feeling out the pulsing of another’s muscle under his skin and trying to match his breath with how theirs would be to make their heartbeat in such a way. The calmness of having a reliable counterpart would wash over him and he’d find solace for a while at the very least, then the vibrations of a heart beating too fast would shake him from his space and he’d shiver as the idea of knowing something was wrong and he wasn’t doing something about it swirled a pool of self-hatred and disgust low in his gut. The guilt was something he couldn’t easily live with, guilt over not doing something to help as fear pulled him from the front lines and back to his room. If he went and helped too often, they’d find out. And then what? Would he be the creep who kept tabs on them? They’d never trust him again, would they? They’d make him remove the tattoos he’d painstakingly worked into his arm, but it would be his own fault for thinking he could micro-manage their lives. Perhaps he’d even become a dark side from this. If that happened he’d never be able to go near them again. Never be able to help when they needed it. Never be able to go to them and work them through something so important.
“They’ll hate you”, a voice whispered gently, “they’ll abhor you if they find out about your tattoos and what they truly are.”
“They will?”, his own voice asked without input, raspy and ragged from disuse.
A hand rubbed gently over his forearm, tracing a circle around each tattoo before running back over them with their palm down, “they will.”
The voice seemed so sure, so sound, so he listened. The storm cloud let out a crackle, lightning piercing down his arm and vanishing in a second but it was all that was needed. The hand vanished, pulling away as if burned then the presence of another behind his chair was gone, like dust in the wind.
It took Logan no longer than an hour to make the addition to his arm, a black bowler hat with a golden snake coiled around like a living band on the hat. It hissed gently, moving to place its head on the crown of the hat before seeming to doze off. Logan pressed to fingers to it gently, the snake hissing once before settling down again as a steady thudding proceeded to travel up Logan’s fingers and to his mind. All safe, all well, all alive.
It wasn’t until the next video that Logan found his worries to be increased tenfold. The tattoos were hidden, a layer of heavy concealer made sure of that, but Logan made sure to add even more to it right before they began. As the video progressed he continued to check the tattoos; first Virgil, then Roman, Patton, and finally Deceit. This trend continued even as he said his lines, albeit rather dully, and made sure to add his own hint of humour here and there. He knew being too drab would make them suspicious, and with his mind preoccupied he would sound as drab as a dusty basement with no windows, so he added the humour if only to make it so they didn’t become suspicious. Occasionally he’d catch an acceleration in a heartbeat, glancing over at whomever it belonged to just in case something was amiss with them but as time wore on he found they all appeared adequate in terms of something being wrong with them.
His tune changed when Deceit popped up for a cameo and the other’s heart rates almost skyrocketed. Virgil’s was the worst of the four hearts he could feel so he turned to him first, making eye contact with the anxious trait before giving him a small reassuring smile and a tiny head tilt. Virgil’s heart rate slowed at the concern and after a tiny nod Logan turned his attention back to the others and watching Deceit like a hawk from across the room. Deceit seemed to start, eyes focused on Logan’s right arm before he met Logan’s hard gaze and his smile wilted a little, eyes shifting from Logan to the floor as if sheepish and guilty of something. Neither said anything but the room seemed to acknowledge Deceit’s sudden sheepishness, though before something could be said he was gone. It took all of a minute for the room to return to the point it had been at before Deceit popped up, though Logan kept his gaze on the ground where Deceit had gone, it was no secret now that he knew of Logan’s secret.
Logan discretely kept his fingers glued to Deceit’s tattoo for the majority of the remaining time of the video, feeling it switch from softly vibrating to near flatlining. He kept with the script but vanished as soon as it was over, leaving the others to their own devices as he made his way to the only place Deceit could be at this moment; Logan’s room. He found the lying trait curled up beside his bed, tear tracks on his cheeks and an even guiltier look on his face as his head dipped to meet the tops of his knees. Logan took a seat next to him taking the hat from his head and pulling the blanket from his bed over the two. He woke the next morning to a cleaned arm, a sore back, and no Deceit in sight.
When he entered the commons not a half hour later, he discovered a disturbing lack of hustle. Three facets sat on the couch together, Deceit in the single armchair, each watching the TV as it played through a Disney movie of (what Logan assumed) was Patton’s choosing. Not a single word was spoken, nor anything discussed as Logan walked to the kitchen, took an apple and left. He ate in his room that night with only his laptop for company, he wasn’t feeling up to eating much anyway and he had work to do so he counted the fact no one called on him as a win for the night. Though the couldn’t help but feel dread creep into him as he wound down for the night, each tattoo almost completely still with the exception of the snake and occasional bolt of lightning. Logan decided that something wasn’t right, but for once he was all right with not knowing what it was. So he turned off the lights, turned over onto his side and removed his glasses for the night.
The next morning came much quicker than Logan had anticipated, golden light streaming through the curtains he’d drawn the previous night. He checked the tattoos, each producing a soft but reliable beat that made his mouth twitch into a small smile before he took his glasses and looked around his room. The day had only just begun but thankfully as it was a weekend Logan had the benefit of being able to stay in his room for the time being. Patton and Roman could take over for a little while, he could relax and keep check of their heart rates, and the other sides could have a well-deserved sleep in. A second later though Logan found his wrist vibrating, he was torn between going to Virgil and remaining in his room but as he thought about it he felt his forearm begin to tingle until the first three were vibrating quickly, almost jumping out of his skin with how violent they were being. Logan scrambled out of bed, his own heart rate steadily increasing as he thought of what could possibly go so wrong that they’d all be so scared. His mind continued to run a million through to by him before he appeared in the common room, dark blue dressing gown half off his shoulder, to find the three light facets laughing. He didn’t know if he should be offended or not. Clearly, they found something hilarious, but their heart rates were going down so perhaps they were laughing at him. Logan checked himself over once to see if that could be true, but he found nothing of evidence for them to be laughing at him. In that case, they could be laughing at something on the TV or…or they could know he had the tattoos and thought that making their heart rates increase would be a fun joke to play on him.
Logan frowned at the idea since when was he so malicious and hateful? Though it made some sort of twisted sense. Deceit could have told them last night and now they’d found out he was right and Logan was keeping tabs on them. Perhaps they’d decided to teach him a lesson for spying on them, but they wouldn’t do that, would they? Surely even Roman could see how much they meant to him and how much playing such a joke would hurt him. Surely.
“Night”, a rough voice murmured, and Logan spun to Deceit, clothed in his usual outfit but missing both hat and cloak. Logan nodded once before turning on his heel and leaving again. If Deceit had told them then he’d just have to live with it, pranks and all. He still cared about them and if they were going to use his caring as potential cannon fodder for their own amusement then he’d just have to deal with it and move on. So, Logan got dressed and started back on his work once more.
The day seemed to blur by until at last night closed in on the sides and Logan found himself once more in the kitchen of the common area, eyeing up what food they had in the fridge before deciding on the small tub of raspberries set off to the side. It was more of a snack, but he was in the middle of working through a project, he needed something to keep him going and a berry each time he did a good job would be a decent incentive. As he closed the fridge door he heard the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind, assuming it was another side looking for sustenance Logan turned and began to make a move out of the kitchen when a hand grabbed his left wrist to stop him. The hand wasn’t gripping too tightly but it was enough to get Logan to stop walking and turn his head to whoever was holding him at bay. A pair of eyes exactly like his own stared back at him, dark shadows of smudged makeup under each to intensify what façade they were trying to portray. Logan blinked a few times and turned his body to Virgil, waiting expectantly for whatever the facet would say or do, but all Virgil did was look at him as if he were seeing something behind him as if he were staring through Logan or seeing a ghost where Logan should be. Logan was pretty sure he heard the audible click of Virgil’s jaw as his hand dropped away, Logan’s wrist his own once more. The logical facet blinked once, turned and left the room for his own.
Back in his room, Logan continued to work late into the night, only stopping when the punnet of berries was empty, and the soft thudding of each heart was the only thing he could feel.
The next video came as a surprise, a little short video that was supposed to be about sharing your emotions with others and creating a balance between putting yourself first and putting others first. Logan had been cooped up in his room for most of the week when filming came around, with everything they had on their plates it was no wonder he didn’t see the others much during that time, but now here they were rounding out the video with the conclusive paragraph of dialogue courtesy of Thomas. It hadn’t been the most outstanding of videos, but it would serve to hold most of the viewers over for another month or so along with teaching a hopefully valuable lesson, however many times it had already been taught. The camera shut off and the sides retreated to the common area for a little rest while Thomas took the card from his camera and began the process of editing and sharing footage.
Logan checked each tattoo quickly, pressing down a little harder than he meant to while searching for anomalies in their heartbeats. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary so he slunk to the couch, taking a seat closest to the kitchen and curling in a little. His eyes drifted down, he felt as if he’d been awake for days, though he knew he’d slept the night before, how long he slept was a mystery to him though. He jolted a little as someone leant against his side, a slight yawn emanating from them as they stretched and curled up next to him. He could hear a chuckle and vibrations through his polo but little else as he finally succumbed to sleep for a few moments.
He woke a second later when the weight next to him shifted and he realised he’d nearly dozed off. What if something had happened to the others while he was asleep? What if one of their hearts accelerated and the others couldn’t tell? Logan shifted away from whoever was using his side as a pillow and turned to lay their head on a proper pillow. Patton shifted a little, eyes opening and saddened frown crossing his features as Logan stood fully and glanced down at him. Something in Patton’s gaze made him falter for a fraction of a second but it was gone a moment later as Logan stretched and made his way to the kitchen to gather some coffee and strength. On his way he passed Deceit in the armchair, looking at him with the same expression Virgil had worn not five nights prior. Looking at him, but not quite seeing him. Logan shrugged a little and finally made his coffee, being quiet as he took in the scene the living room had on display. Virgil curled over the other arm of the couch looking at his phone, Roman almost passed out but seemingly trying to stay awake as he had propped himself up against the front of the couch with a blanket covering his torso and legs, Patton curled up at the other end of the couch with a pillow tucked under his head, and finally Deceit with messy hair and missing his hat looking like he was about to fall asleep with his fist for a pillow as he supported his head.
Logan stifled a soft snicker at the sight, let it be known he was not completely invulnerable when it came to the cute things of the world, at least if this was included. He subconsciously rubbed his forearm before taking another sip of coffee, hoping the hot caffeine filled drink would wake him up. Logan ignored the slightly unpleasant rumbling of his stomach in favour of thinking through what he had to do next, mind spinning with everything he had to achieve before the week’s end. His body drooped like a wilting flower for a brief second before he found his face pillowed in his arms on the counter, head tilted and eyes glassy as he blinked every now and then practically lost to the world. When he realised what he was doing he stood, stretched and took one more look out across the sea of almost identical faces; all but Deceit were in some stage of sleeping, Patton and Roman completely out of it while Virgil had turned off his phone and seemed to be in the midst of going to sleep. Logan allowed a smile to bloom on his face as at last their anxious trait curled in on himself and surrendered to sleep, three hearts beating slowly on his forearm before he turned his attention to Deceit.
The lying facet was watching the others with something akin to fondness, finally curled up in the armchair with his arms splayed across the right arm to rest his head on. Logan made a mental note to grab a cushion or pillow for him before he stepped into the living room and made his way to Deceit, watching as Deceit’s heavily heterochromatic eyes found his own brown pair and a new look crossed Deceit’s face. It took Logan a second to figure out what exactly Deceit was portraying but he swallowed down a dry throat when he worked it out. Worry and concern clearly laced through every scale and follicle on Deceit’s face. Logan took a sip of his coffee, turning his head away from Deceit to avoid looking into his eyes. He heard the sound of shifting and looked back to see Deceit finally resigning himself to sleep. The logical facet stood back for one more second before leaving to gather pillows and blankets, quickly dispersing them around the room before he took one more glance over the scene and sunk out of the common area.
With life getting back into the swing of things and finally slowing to a somewhat manageable pace within a day or so of filming, Logan was able to get a little more sleep and work on a few more projects before he noticed something he’d not noticed during his days of rest. He’d not had a truly vibrating tattoo in the two days he’d been working. Normally this would be a good sign, but knowing Deceit knew about them and what they meant had him quickly thinking of the worst possibilities. What if they thought they couldn’t have breakdowns? What if they thought they couldn’t cry because he would know and come to them, therefore putting them first and himself last and indulging in tiring himself out just for them? What if they didn’t want his help anymore?
Logan slowed his train of thought when he felt Virgil’s tattoo vibrate gently, no doubt something had happened and that meant that either Virgil didn’t know or did know or was taking pity on him. Any of those were good so long as they still trusted him enough to show their feelings and not squash down anything that would come out at some point or another. Even the now light fluttering of the tattoo was better than the unbearable stillness that came with a steady heartbeat. Logan stilled himself, mind grinding to a halt as he took in what he was really thinking and feeling. Was he really hoping they’d have more breakdowns, just so he could know they were okay? Logan bit his lip and gripped his right wrist hard enough to hear the bones pop softly, he released it slowly but brought back the pain briefly as incentive never to think such things again. He knew what an obsession was, knew what addiction looked like. His eyes narrowed on his laptop screen before his fingers settled on the keys and flew across them searching for ways to break his obsession with their heartbeats.
After an hour of research, he’d found barely anything that he thought could work. With that thought, the thought of never being able to get over his addiction, settling into him he found himself on his bed caging his head and mind with his arms and legs. He shed no tears, but eventually, he fell asleep still sitting against the wall and headboard of his bed as day trickled into the night.
When he woke next he found it nearly morning, stray rays of sunlight creeping over his windowsill and onto the cream carpet while he willed his mind to readjust to what he now knew. An idea struck him as he uncurled from his ball of limbs; if Deceit knew what the tattoos meant, he could help rid Logan of his obsession. So as soon as Logan had fully stretched out and gotten dressed, he’s out searching for the half-scale faced facet. Sinking in and out of rooms in search of Deceit, going through hallway after hallway, opening door after door. He gave up after an hour, settling into his room only to feel a soft tug on his being as if he were being summoned. Though Thomas would have no need to summon him right now and the others know not to summon him on days like today where work has piled up, even if he isn’t doing it. But he follows the relentless tugging and finds himself face to face with the one facet he had been looking for. He’s relieved for a split second, then he saw the other facets who were also in attendance, merely not paying attention and having their own conversation as Deceit grabbed Logan’s left hand gently and rubbed his gloved thumb over the back of it.
“We were clearly not just talking about tattoos”, Deceit said, voice a near whisper as if trying to keep a secret he knows will eventually spill out in time, “and I thought you may want to sit it out, but the others begged for you to be in attendance.”
Logan knew what that meant, but he couldn’t help but take in the lie. He’d been avoiding the truth for so long now, the rough grit of truth that lay under the silky softness of the lie. Right now, he just needed the lies, nothing but lies and more lies to keep his own feelings at bay, but there was no way Deceit, even with his title and skills, would ever allow Logan to take in so many lies that could be so very damaging, come the truth-finding him. Logan nodded gently, waiting for the hand to remove itself, but Deceit kept a firm grip, clearly knowing Logan would bolt if given the chance.
It was the other’s turn to find Logan’s eyes and warmly draw him in as best they could. Words like honey as they talked over him about the coolest designs they could imagine, Roman’s being the most outlandish of course while Virgil’s were the most reined in. Logan took a seat on the couch at the far end, squishing in between Virgil and the arm of the couch as Deceit finally took a seat in the armchair and raised an eyebrow at Logan. It soon became apparent that Deceit wanted Logan to out himself about the tattoos, but Logan was stubborn so when Deceit stood up after a full thirty minutes of the others discussing tattoos Logan knew he wasn’t going to get to do this on his terms.
“You know I best Logan has some really awful tattoo ideas”, Deceit said, walking around the back of the chair and giving Logan a soft smirk before continuing, “I bet he doesn’t even have a tattoo at all.”
Logan flushed, trying to decide if he should leave before the others figured out what Deceit meant or if he should stick around and prove to himself he could do this. However, his decision was made for him all too quickly as Virgil caught on almost instantly, “you have tattoos?”
Deceit’s smirk was quickly fuelled even more by the utter hate filled glare Logan sent his way. Logan took a breath in and finally conceded, turning to the others and nodding a little in defeat, unable to form words as heat welled up in his cheeks. The questions began almost instantly regarding almost everything from size and colour to position and the age he got them at. He didn’t say a word until they’d finished the mini-tirade and when they finally did Logan had to once again turn his attention to Deceit who stood with a snicker on his lips and a smirk on his face.
“They’re…private”, Logan finally decided on and the smirk disappeared into a soft frown, eyes quickly overcome by concern. The statement was met with a few more questions and then Deceit finally hushed them, waving a hand that silenced them as he delivered a soft and fond look at the logical side.
“They were never meant to be private, Logan”, Deceit said, running a hand over the top of the armchair as Logan averted his eyes, “what they mean was never meant to be private and I think you should finally air it. I speak the truth and only the truth right now. It’s time to speak up.”
Logan looked back up at Deceit, meeting his eyes once more before sighing and turning his right arm over. Each tattoo pulsed briefly, fluttering before settling down as the other facets took in the details. Logan winced briefly as Roman grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm along to have a better look at the tattoos, Patton’s fingers tracing feather light patterns over the storm cloud as Virgil stared down the heart with an intense expression. After a few minutes, Logan wrenched his hand out of Roman’s grip and rubbed the tattoos, pressing each to check the heartbeat of his fellow facets. A cloth covered hand rubbed the back of his neck and only then did Logan realise Deceit had crossed the living room to get a better look of his own tattoo in addition with the others.
“They’re actually not terrible”, Roman muttered after a brief period of silence and Logan felt a wave of relief wash over him like a tsunami. He didn’t realise how fearful he’d been until he’d found acceptance with them and, in turn, himself.
Virgil gave a little nod towards Logan’s arm, “what do they mean?”
Logan was stunned for a second but luckily Deceit had his back, unusual as it was, “take a wild guess. A storm cloud, a coat of arms with a castle, a heart with flowers, and”, he paused to grab and twirl his hat for a second, placing it back on his head before continuing, “a bowler hat with a snake.”
“Us? They’re about us?”, Patton asked, Logan could practically hear the tears of joy welling in his voice and he conceded a nod of acknowledgement.
“Oh, not just that. Tell them about the other things they do”, Deceit added, nudging Logan with his elbow gently to get him to respond to his invitation to ramble. Logan kept silent and Deceit rolled his eyes before walking around the couch end and grabbing his wrist none too gently. Logan let out a hiss of anger but stilled his struggling as he was hauled to his feet and his arm was forced towards the other facets. “Touch and press down, gently mind you.”
They followed Deceit’s instructions, each reaching two fingers forward to press down on their allotted tattoo. A moment of silence passed before each returned with a confused look on their face.
“What are we supposed to feel?”, Roman asked, looking down at the tattoo while Logan rolled his eyes.
“They won’t feel it because it’s synched to them specifically. If they tried another tattoo that wasn’t theirs, they might feel it”, Logan said, speaking more to Deceit than the others but nonetheless the others tried again and this time an astonished look fell onto their near-identical faces.
“A heartbeat?”, Virgil asked softly, and Deceit nodded proudly as if someone was acknowledging his greatest masterpiece, “Logan’s heartbeat?”
“No, yours”, Deceit said, voice a tad exasperated, “each tattoo is linked to your heart. If your heart accelerates the tattoo vibrates and if I get too close-”
“The cloud lets off a whole lot of lightning”, Roman muttered, watching as Deceit’s hand pulled back slowly, shaking off a slight buzz as the cloud dimmed and the lightning stopped sprouting down Logan’s arm like electrified veins.
“Exactly”, Deceit said, moving away from Logan who rubbed his arm as the snake’s hissing stopped, the flowers with the heart became vibrant once more, the coat of arms glistened, and the cloud stopped sending lightning down both Logan’s arm and palm.
Wide eyes focused on the tattoos as they quickly drew back into their brilliant colours once more. Patton was the first to speak up after the tattoos bloomed back to their original forms once again, “so what happens if we have a panic attack? Do they vibrate?”
“They do”, Logan responded, running his hand over them one more time as if to make sure all were present and accounted for, “they generally vibrate when your heart rates spike and accelerate so panic attacks do cause them to vibrate as does…as does sports and laughing.” Logan swallowed softly, feeling the guilt well up from a week ago. He’d thought they were playing a prank on him; how could he have been so idiotic?
“So, you know when something bad happens but”, Virgil paused mid-sentence, “we don’t know when something bad happens to you. Can you show me how to make them, they could come in useful and they look pretty cool on top of that.”
Logan stepped back away from the couch, eyes quickly finding Deceit who stood with his arms crossed and a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Deceit looked from Logan to the others and back before shrugging and raising his hands into the air, “don’t look at me. I didn’t make them.”
“You planned this, didn’t you though”, Logan said, a small smile worming its way onto his lips before he caught sight of something dark blue under Deceit’s sleeve and glove. Logan smirked gently, looking directly into Deceit’s eyes before shaking his head, “you have one too. Who?”
Deceit didn’t cower from the question like Logan would have, he merely gave Logan a fond smile and bowed, straightening and undoing the buttons of his sleeve to roll it up. A galaxy swirled on his wrist softly, spinning in lazy circles as a universe unfolded down his forearm to his elbow, “ whom do you think?”
“You’re the worst”, Logan said, chuckling a little as Deceit shrugged his reply. However, the others seemed as interested in Deceit’s as they had Logan’s, each standing in time and wandering over to look at the patterns as Logan followed and shook his head in disbelief. If they had their way, the others would want Deceit’s tattoo just as much as the ones Logan carried, but if they only liked the visual appeal what was the point in attaching the tattoo to a heartbeat at all?
“Calm down”, a voice said, and Logan looked up from the carpet at Roman, fingers pressed over the galaxy which slowly regained its colours in light of Logan being pulled out of his potential spiral. The facets each had their fingers pressed to Deceit’s forearm, a soft hum emitted from the galaxy gently fizzling out to a steady beat once more.
“My heart rate didn’t increase drastically, how did you know?”, Logan asked, question aimed more at Deceit than the other sides.
Deceit shrugged for the third time in their sitting, “let’s just say my tattoo is larger for a reason and leave it at that.”
Logan frowned at Deceit’s attempt to brush his question off, “you can feel my mood change along with my heartbeat, can’t you? Can you also tell the difference between happiness and excitement?”
“Look”, Deceit paused as if trying to gauge what Logan’s reaction would be before deciding what to say, “yes. I can tell what mood you’re in and I can feel it. When you’re happy I can feel what your happiness feels like and I can tell why you’re happy. I can sense the tiniest change and everything you’ve put yourself through the past few days, I sensed all of that too and I didn’t do anything to help. So, consider this my help now.”
“Deceit”, Logan began but he was cut off by the lying facet, mouth closing gently as Deceit moved his index finger in a circular motion.
“Enough. You’ve been through too much as it is and now I want to help. Let me”, Deceit said, and Logan felt the fight drain out. For the first time in a long while he was about to let people in and while it scared him, he knew Deceit was right when he said he needed help.
“Deceit?”, Patton queried, drawing back to the couch with a small smile and a hidden idea in his eyes, “How exactly did you make your tattoos?”
“Why would you like to know?”, Deceit answered with a question of his own.
Patton pouted a little before bringing back his smile, “I want four.”
“Where would you put them? They need to be in easy to reach places and this one takes up my entire forearm. You’d have to have one on your right, one on your left and then two either on your stomach and chest or on your legs and those aren’t very easy to reach. I’d suggest Logan’s version. Less privacy invading but still able to tell you when someone is having a breakdown of some kind.”
“Fine”, Patton conceded, albeit with a pout and a frown which morphed into a smile when he turned to Logan, “so, how about it teach?”
“I suppose we could work something out”, Logan said as soon as Deceit lifted the spell from him, “I don’t know if they’ll be different or the same as mine, however. If you don’t like the patterns it may be best for me to give some instruction and then let you figure it out by yourself so it comes out more uniquely your own.”
“I don’t care about that”, Patton muttered with a playful chuckle, “just tell me how to make them or make them with me.”
“I suppose I don’t have anything better to do”, Logan admitted to a small cheer from Patton. And just like that Logan was surrounded by three of the people he cherished most in the world, helping them make their own tattoos. They didn’t show him his own until after they’d finished with the others. Roman’s were all somewhat Disney themed, Virgil’s all black outlines, Patton’s all baby animals, but each revealed Logan’s to him after showing each other what they’d made for the others. Logan’s weren’t too far apart but they spanned the entire length of their opposite forearms. A blue night sky with a joined constellation of Athena and shining stars dotted around to match. The only difference between each was what appeared on the edges of the night sky; around Roman’s there were roses, blood red and navy blue with a few purple and light blue ones dotted here and there, Virgil’s border was made of black thorns that protruded out from the painting as if inviting someone to try and get hurt touching it, Patton’s border was made up of clouds shaped into fluffy white hearts and tinted their separate colours. It made Logan almost cry with how detailed they were and each lay two fingers on their left wrist, smiling as his happiness slowly flowed into them.
Deceit watched from the sidelines, thumbing his own star-themed tattoo as he watched Logan finally accept what he’d wanted to shout about this entire time. He wasn’t a freak or a creep for wanting them to be safe and he wasn’t less than them in any regard. He was just as important and now the others were proving his point for him. He supposed he should have stopped Logan from hurting himself like he had, refusing to eat and sleep and always on the lookout for some anomaly in the other facet’s heartbeats, but now he was making up for all that time spent on the sidelines. Now he was letting Logan taste freedom, a freedom he thought he’d never have. But now he was gaining it all, and all it took was a shove in the right direction. Granted Deceit knew he most likely shouldn’t have pushed Logan into such a position, it could have majorly scarred him for life had the others not accepted him as they had, but Deceit was always one to look for the positives and in this case it was positive that he’d pushed Logan towards a better life and it had worked because he knew the others and how they’d react. He’d have never gone into this blind, hoping that their love for each other was greater than anything Logan could throw their way. He’d learned how they interacted, how they ticked and worked over the months he’d spent with them and seeing the pain dissipate from Logan was like being given water after a trip across the Sahara. His thirst had been quenched and Logan was safe.
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