#sorry about the death threat it's just the only thing that can express my sheer rage at hussie right now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

undercover-trio · 3 years

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De request

Hi! Could I ask for HCs for jealous Team RWBY + Nora (or only team rwby if it's too much) with a flirty and popular female reader? Where reader is popular with girls.

———

Yus you can, also sorry for the wait, I had to take a small break from writing

I be tired

Also don’t mind I listed the type of popular I wanted the reader to be for each girl.

Sorry for any spelling errors

(￣▽￣)ノ

-Mod Penji

[Brackets]=Messages

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Ruby

-Heroic popular

It wasn’t really a mystery why you were popular with girls, after all, you had this righteous charisma to you. Ruby noticed how many situations this got you into.

Ruby was laying on her bed, patiently waiting for a reply back from you.

My precious rose

[You there Y/N/N?]

Miss Hero

[Sorry for the wait Ruby, I just got back from piggybacking this girl to the infirmary]

My precious rose

[That’s cool of you!!]

Miss Hero

[After I brought Zwei down from a tree, guarded Velvet from CRDL -I made sure to report them- helped this girl find her purse and saved Doctor Oobleck’s spiked coffee from falling]

My precious rose

[(°◇°;) ]

She didn’t mind when people came back to show gratitude in the slightest!

Ruby saw you down the hallways, there was a girl in front of you, she heard what you guys were saying so there was no need to be jealous.

“Hey Y/N, I just want to say thanks for the other day, you really helped out with moving the speakers.” The girl thanked, Ruby swelled with pride.

“It’s no problem, if you ever need help just I’m willing to be there.” And with that you two went your separate ways.

Those interactions she was fine with.

What gets to her is those girls who look for more, not to mention you’re rather oblivious when it comes to your complimenting style.

Ruby and you were walking down the hall together when this girl came up to the both of you, more specifically you.

“Hey Y/N, thanks for piggybacking me the other day, that was really nice of you.” She started, Ruby immediately didn’t like the way the girl was blushing.

“It’s no problem, as cute as you looked in those heels I don’t recommend wearing them again.” You complimented and advised her, not noticing how her blush got even deeper.

Ruby did though.

Yet she knows that you’d drop anything for her, all it takes for you to notice is her looking down.

The girl, her name didn’t matter, in Ruby’s not so humble opinion. She started following you guys to your next class, insinuating it was on the way to her’s.

And with that you two kept talking, Ruby started feeling a little left out and sad. To let you know she bumped into your side, after that she sped ahead.

“What’s up with her?” The girl asked with a bitter tone. You merely smiled in Ruby’s direction.

“Sorry but I have to go catch up with my girlfriend.”

And with that, the girl was left alone in the hallway.

You dedicate anything you can to cheering her up, she was slightly flustered about this at first but now just enjoys how you are.

Ruby sat rather glum in her seat, it was her final class of the day and that whole girl thing just left her with a bad attitude. She would’ve acted like a bitter child in her dorm but here you were.

“Ruby, would you like to go to the bakery with me? And maybe play some Kung fu ninja slayer ultimate death battle? The second one isn’t as good.”

Ruby smiled at your actions and quickly hugged you as you both headed to the bakery.

————-

Weiss

-Cinnamon roll popular

Weiss wouldn’t be exaggerating if she said she had a literal ball of sunshine as a girlfriend

“Weiss~ get upppp.” Weiss felt someone’s fingers brushing through her hair, the action made her want to sleep more. Of course she knew only one person who could accidentally make their work harder.

“Good morning Y/N.” She gave a slight smile, still a little drowsy from just waking up. She thought she woke up at a decent time, her new alarm clock being way more pleasant to wake up to than her old one.

You gave her your signature cinnamon roll smile and her morning got exponentially better.

Unfortunately your cheerfulness attracted unwanted attention, you simply thought you made more friends but Weiss saw the looks in their eyes

You were putting your weapons in your locker when you heard someone calling out your nickname in the distance.

“Sunshine!” You looked to see there being 4 older girls, the leader being the redhead named Stella. You quickly shuffled over to them, looking quite cute given you had a lot of big textbooks in your arms.

She understood them, you were just so...cute when you spoke. You genuinely tried to keep up and pay attention with everyone.

“Stell, what’d I say about that name!!” You huffed with a pout, the older girl merely gave a teasing smile as the girls behind her looked at you with interest.

“Sorry cupcake-“ you squaked at the name. “But my team just wanted to meet you, like a lot.” She exaggerated with big hand movements making you giggle, the girls behind her looked embarrassed.

“It’s okay! I wanted to meet them lots too!” You gave them a bright smile, they all looked at Stella with disbelief in their eyes.

“How is she so sweet???”

“I don’t even know.”

You didn’t hear their conversation but took a quick glance at the clock and bid them goodbye.

She supposed she could be considered a sort of knight in a way, just instead of an honorable battle there are threats and grimm(see what I did there?) promises

Weiss saw that whole interaction, her fist gripped hard around Myrtenaster. She observed Stella stay behind while the other girls left, that’s when she decided to strike.

With a slam, Stella got startled at the sound and looked back to stare into cold blue eyes. She shivered at the intensity in them, Weiss perfected the Schnee intimidation expression.

“I’m not going to listen to a single rebuttal, you stay away from Y/N, don’t look at her, don’t even breathe the same air as her. If you do I swear I will gut you like a turkey.”

Stella merely nodded, her being beyond intimidated. And with that Weiss left the locker room to join up with you.

When she did, you smiled at her, completely clueless to what she just did.

————-

Blake

-Teasing/smooth talker popular

Blake wouldn’t call herself possessive, she knew from past relationships how that could go. Yet she couldn’t help but notice the sheer amount of girls with an interest in you.

You had walked away from Blake’s dorm after telling her good morning, she left her door slightly cracked open on accident. As she went to fix it she balked at the amount of girls she saw following after you in the distance.

“What…..?”

She honestly couldn’t blame them, you were pretty suave, another main thing that she knew contributed to your popularity.

A girl who was part of the group following you had tripped in the crowd. She closed her eyes preparing for a rough fall yet she didn’t feel it.

“Are you okay dear?” Your smooth voice asked. The girl blushed, your arm was around her waist as you asked this.

She could speak so she nodded causing you to give an amused and slightly teasing smile. You leaned into the crook of her neck.

“Be more careful next time chéri.” Your lips were right next to her ear, then suddenly you left. Leaving behind an embarrassed puddle of a girl.

She wouldn’t notice, much to your amusement, that she would get more clingy and needy.

“Hey kitten, I have to head to Miss Goodwitch’s class, I’ll be back in a bit.” You informed her as you were ready to leave the room.

“Wait, it’s a little chilly so wear this.” She handed you her favorite black hoodie, on the chest it had her initials, white and in cursive. The sleeves and hood were white so you’d have to be a bit careful.

You merely stared at it for a bit in amusement before chuckling and putting it on.

“Thank you dear, I’ll be back soon.” You smiled as you gave her a kiss, not even mentioning the fact it wasn’t even chilly.

A perfect example of an extremely jealous Blake Belladonna would have to be that one time she was waiting for you in professor Port’s classroom.

It seemed the hoodie wasn’t enough to drive some girls off, here you were, leaning against a hallways wall. In front of you was a timid looking girl, she looked the slightest bit like a squirrel, cute but you preferred cats.

“May I help you?” You asked, you looked to the side, you just wanted to be with Blake right now.

“E-erm yes! I was just wondering if you..me ...date..” She trailed off in the end but it was clear to you she asked. You gave her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry but-“ Before you could finish your sentence Blake came with her arms wrapped around you from behind.

“Y/N/N, who is this?” She asked as her head rested on your shoulder. You gave a wry grin at her behavior.

“This is-“

“I’m no one, sorry for bothering you girls!!” She squeaked out as she bolted away.

You didn’t even have to look at Blake to know what she did. She was pretty scary when she glared.

“Is my kitten jealous?” You teased, she merely gave you a slight glare before burying her head further into your shoulder. You grinned at this knowing it was a yes.

————-

Yang

-Chill popular

At first Yang would compete with you each day over who got more love letters, she thought it was pretty funny. At least until you two started dating.

Yang felt her eyes twitch as she saw the love letters fall out of your locker. She knew from experience that some would hint about you two breaking up, most didn’t even have names she could hunt down. It still frustrated her after you two made quite the public announcement about your relationship.

She did not jump onto a lunch table with a speaker for nothing.

You hummed at the letters and put them back in your locker.

This is usually the cause for Yang’s jealousy.

During times when your charm was reaching high levels Yang vowed to always be close to you, no matter where.

Yang and you were standing in front of the vending machine in the cafeteria, you were messing with team JOCK as you got your soda. Yang was fairly involved in the conversation, after all even she could admit that Vacuo’s team was treated unfairly in the final match.

Atlas Aristocrats, that was literally the team name, quite obviously bribed the referee. I mean seriously, Atlas people don’t even like football!!

Now that that’s out of the way, she kept her eyes glued on team JEWL(Jewel). She knew they wanted to join in, yet her glare kept them away. Needless to say even she was surprised at how charming you were today as you leaned and whispered in her ear.

“Ready to eat?” You asked with a dorky smile. She nodded and threw her arm over your shoulders, ignoring the blush she got from your action.

It was basically forbidden to ask about Yang’s small notebook, it could literally fit in her pocket.

Yang could feel you staring at her notebook, she knew you wouldn’t ask though. You were respectful like that, so she didn’t have to worry about you seeing her add Team JEWL’s names to it.

“Yang?”

“Wassup?” She asked with her signature smile.

“Ice cream?” She immediately knew what you meant, putting her notebook in her pocket she got ready to take you on Bumblebee to get some ice cream.

Yet every time she crossed something out she looked pretty achieved, and simultaneously a girl would stop obsessing over you

Yang felt pretty proud of herself, she managed to have another girl get the hint. You were taken by a hot blonde bombshell, with smug proudness she crossed out the name.

Suddenly she felt someone hug her from behind.

“Yang, while I am happy you’re making people get the memo I’d rather it be in a way you don’t get detention.” You nonchalantly teased her, she laughed knowing she was caught.

“Sorry Y/N/N~ but aye on the bright side…” Her brain failed her at this moment.

“On the bright side?”

“Uh- it’s bright?”

You snorted at her stupid remark

“Yeah it sure is my jealous bombshell.”

————

#mod pengie #rwby #fem!reader #rwby x reader #tagging still sucks #ruby rose x reader #rwby ruby #ruby rose #weiss schnee x reader #rwby weiss #weiss schnee #rwby blake #blake belladonna x reader #blake belladonna #rwby yang #yang xiao long x reader #yang xiao long #jealousy

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journalxxx · 3 years

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By Hook or by Crook (4)

Oh God, there’s another one.

The thought came unbidden to Toshinori’s mind, and it engulfed him in the closest thing to pure dread he had felt in years. It had taken two centuries, the sacrifice of seven One For All users, and two of his own major organs to take down a single All For One wielder, and now a brand new one had somehow sprouted right in front of him.

Now. Now that he had finally decided to tackle the hurdle of entrusting a relatively stable Japan to a successor, now that he was weaker and less capable than ever of defending it from a new threat. Now that the deadline of Nighteye’s prophecy was drawing closer and closer. His own gruesome death on the battlefield, and the sudden reappearance of All For One’s quirk. The unavoidable connection between the two facts almost robbed him of his breath.

Toshinori couldn’t tear his eyes away from the boy’s hand. It looked diminutive in comparison to his own, and completely inoffensive. It had the soft, unblemished appearance that suited someone who had never hit anything bigger than a fly, whereas the hero’s skin had long since been roughened by calluses, and his joints slightly thwarted by the occasional fracture. Yet, that single, unassuming dimple in the middle of its palm made it more potentially destructive than a hundred of Smashes combined.

A sort of choked whimper made Toshinori finally raise his gaze. He realized he had stopped trying to school his expression only when he saw his own strung-out stupor mirrored in Midoriya’s features.

“I-I… Sorry, I r-really have t-to…” The boy took a step back, his hand slipping from the man’s grasp, then he suddenly turned on his heels and motioned to sprint away.

“Hey, hey!” Toshinori reached forward, grabbing Midoriya’s wrist by sheer reflex. He had already wasted enough time and energy chasing slimy villains and rash teenagers all over the town that day, thank you very much. “Where are you going?”

Midoriya froze on the spot, as if shocked by an electric current. His arm was rigid in Toshinori’s grasp, pulling away from it but without any real conviction. His head turned slowly towards the hero but not fully, letting him see only half of the boy’s face. The unmistakable terror etched in those wide eyes made something constrict in Toshinori’s chest.

“I-I’m… I’m so sorry…” The boy’s voice was down a trembling, barely audible whisper.“I didn’t mean to d-do that… I’ve never… I won’t do it again, I swear, j-just…”

Midoriya’s free hand hovered over the hero’s, maybe having half a mind of prying it open, but he didn’t even dare to touch it. Toshinori let go of him immediately. The kid wasn’t expecting it, judging by his flabbergasted expression, and all he did with his regained freedom was backing away from him with a couple of uncertain steps, bumping into a nearby electric pole with his backpack and just standing there, pretty much like a cornered mouse cowering before a lion.

The sight jolted Toshinori back to reality with brutal efficiency. God, what was wrong with him today? He was handling this abysmally. That was no two-hundred-year-old manipulative slaughterer, that was a child. A child rapidly working himself into a panic, if his onsetting tremors were of any indication. Ironically, the realization grounded Toshinori even more. Frightened victims and distraught relatives were a daily occurrence in his line of work, and his professional composure slipped back in place almost subconsciously.

“You don’t need to apologize. Quite the opposite. You saved everyone. The hostage, the bystanders… even me. I’m not sure I’d have had the energy to keep up appearances after another smash.” He put up his hands and showed his palms with slow movements, keeping his voice low and level. “You did nothing wrong back there.”

Midoriya slowly slumped down the pole, his limbs huddled in a distressed heap. He blinked quickly as his eyes shied away from Toshinori’s, hands bunching up the fabric of his trousers nervously. “...I-I can give it back. The quirk. I want to give it back to its owner.”

“That can be easily arranged.” Something about the whole situation was nagging at Toshinori, but he pushed that feeling aside for the moment. The boy wasn’t holding himself in any way that hinted at specific injuries, but fear could be one hell of an anesthetic. He gazed up and down the road, finding it completely deserted. He still felt slightly abuzz with the adrenaline rush caused by his second encounter with the sludge villain and the recent revelation of Midoriya’s quirk. He gauged that he could probably (possibly, maybe, hopefully) abuse One For All for another twenty seconds or so if need be, just the time to scoop up the boy in his arms and power run back to the ambulances at the site of the accident. That was likely to cause even more distress to the poor kid though, so he’d rather hold off on it unless clearly necessary. “Are you sure you aren’t in any pain?”

“I-I’m f-fine.” The boy wiggled the backpack off his shoulders and rummaged through it shakily, a few tears rolling down his cheeks and his hiccups becoming harder to contain. “I’m fine…”

“Hey, kid. Look at me. Deep breaths.” Toshinori finally ventured a step and a half towards Midoriya, squatting at a reasonable distance to his side instead of right in front of him, to make sure he wouldn’t feel too crowded. Toshinori offered him a couple of tissues (always plentiful in his pockets) while the boy tried to regain a semblance of calm. “It’s all right. I am here.”

That got the boy’s attention. The catchphrase had slipped out of him automatically, without his trademark panache or blinding smile or overflowing optimism, but Midoriya looked at him like he’d been thrown a lifeline nonetheless. The dam broke and big, shiny tears erupted from his eyes as he accepted the tissues and buried his sobs in them. They remained like that for a while, the kid quietly working through his sniffles while Toshinori sat cross-legged on the dusty asphalt, reminding him to take his time whenever he got a little fidgety.

“Sorry if I spooked you.“ Toshinori eventually offered with a small smile, after Midoriya had finally settled down. “I’m a little out of it myself, today. Not the most auspicious first day in my new neighborhood, but what can you do?”

“Uh? Do you mean you’re moving here?” Midoriya asked while he accepted the fourth tissue and wiped away the remaining dampness from his face.

“Mh-hm.” After the debacle on the rooftop, this didn’t feel like too much of a sensitive bit of information to share. Besides, the kid was a fan, so maybe throwing him a bone would help him relax a little more.

“Why? Isn’t it inconvenient for you? I thought you lived in a penthouse above Might Tower, in Tokyo’s Minato Ward, Roppongi 6-12-”

...Ah, he was that kind of fan. Obviously. “Indeed, but I’ve decided to move to… broaden my professional horizons, so to speak.”

“Oh! Are you planning to open a branch of your agency here? Or are you joining some local long-term operation?“ That spark of morbid curiosity in the boy’s eyes made Toshinori regret bringing up the topic in two seconds flat.

“I’m afraid that’s all I can say on the matter, everything’s still under tight wraps. You’ll hear all about it from the news, eventually.” He stood up and patted some dirt off his hands and pants. “Do you live far from here? I’ll walk you home if you’re feeling better.”

“Oh, uh…” The boy gaped at him in surprise. “Thank you, but there’s no need for you to go out of your way! I’m fine, really!”

“Think nothing of it.” Toshinori hooked three fingers under the strap of the boy’s backpack and hauled it over his own shoulder. It hit his back with unexpected oomph. What did kids even put in those things, weren’t textbooks all digital these days? “Clearly this isn’t your lucky day either. I’ll sleep better tonight knowing that you reached your house safely without being run over by a truck or abducted by aliens.”

The joke got a half-smile out of Midoriya, at long last. He held out his hand to the boy to help him back on his feet. The obvious hesitation and near disbelief he couldn’t hide before gingerly accepting the proffered hand gave Toshinori another small wave of unease. There was definitely something strange about all this, aside from the obvious. He gestured for the kid to lead the way, and they set off towards their new destination.

Toshinori granted him a few minutes of silence before breaching the pivotal subject. “So… you have quite the interesting quirk.”

“...Mh.” Midoriya visibly stiffened. So it had been the quirk talk to give him cold feet, rather than a generic reaction to the day’s stress...

“Why didn’t you use it against the villain the first time he attacked you?” Toshinori asked, opting for a more roundabout approach.

“Ah… I’m sorry. I really should have. You wouldn’t have had to waste your power if I’d-”

“Forget about me! Why didn’t you use it to defend yourself? Did you panic?”

“Uh, well, not too much.” The kid shoved his hands in his pockets and dropped his gaze to the ground, his voice lowering to a droning mutter. “I can take quirks, but I don’t automatically learn how to use them. The villain’s quirk looked like it may be difficult to handle. What if I couldn’t maintain a solid form and just turned myself into a puddle of goo? What if some parts of my slime got detached from the main body during the scuffle, and I found myself missing chunks of flesh upon turning back human? What if the sludge was only an outer layer over my body, and without fine control I ended up drowning in it? Stuff like that… I should have just taken the villain’s quirk without activating it, but I was afraid that he’d get even angrier and he’d just beat me up anyway. I’m not, uh, strong. Or fast. At all. I didn’t consider that he might freak out long enough for me to run away…”

Toshinori blinked. “...Sorry, how long had that guy been harassing you before I showed up?”

“Oh, not long at all. Twenty or thirty seconds, I think.”

“And you went through all of that in twenty seconds. While being ambushed and choked.”

Midoriya just shrugged.

“That is… some quick thinking, all right.” Toshinori commented. He omitted the fact that it was a brand of quick thinking that was more likely to get you killed rather than saving your skin during an emergency. Apparently Midoriya would hesitate to protect himself from a violent attacker, but he’d run for the hills the moment the Symbol of Peace gave him a bit of an odd look. The kid’s fight-or-flight response was all over the place.

“I would have used my quirk to fight back eventually, if you hadn’t arrived so soon… probably…”

“...But?” Toshinori encouraged, sensing the unspoken addition.

“But… not many people know about my quirk. Very few, actually. And I’d like to keep it that way. If it’s possible.”

“Why?”

“...It’s not a good quirk.” Midoriya frowned, hunching his shoulders a bit. “One could do really bad things with it.”

“I could squash a man’s skull with my thumb and level a city block with a punch.” Toshinori countered plainly. “It doesn’t mean I’m going to.”

“It’s… it’s different. You can choose to use your quirk only for good, but mine requires…” The boy trailed off, then hazarded a glance at the hero. “You know what I mean. You understood as soon as I told you, I saw it.”

Toshinori couldn’t argue on that point, unfortunately. Still…

There could be a perfectly innocent explanation for Midoriya to wield All For One. For one, it could be a different quirk altogether, one that simply mimicked Toshinori’s nemesis’, but that wasn’t quite the same, maybe with some unmentioned limitations (although the palm marks made for quite the uncanny similarity). Moreover, much like look-alikes, duplicate quirks between unrelated people weren’t unheard of, although said quirks were usually quite simple ones, like basic physical enhancers or elemental emitters.

What really bothered Toshinori were the boy’s evident sense of guilt and fear of exposure. Virtually any moderately powerful quirk could be employed to ‘do really bad things’, but hardly any children grew up to be so blatantly scared and ashamed of their own abilities. Family and school usually nurtured a degree of confidence and trust in their own capabilities. Toshinori’s knee-jerk reaction was a byproduct of specific knowledge and experience, but Midoriya’s? If only few people knew about his quirk, it must mean he hadn’t used it much, if at all, in the past, ruling out peer pressure as well. What explanation, what innocent explanation could there be for such a strong negative bias, aside from knowledge and experience he wasn’t supposed to have?

“At least your parents know about your quirk, I hope?”

“My mother doesn’t. My father… isn’t really around.” Toshinori couldn’t decide if that last bit of information was a good or a bad sign.

“So… who did you tell?”

“Just one friend and my father.” Ah, we had one likely culprit then. A father that was around but not really. Suspicious. “And now you, I guess. And… everyone who saw what I did to that villain… including the police…” Midoriya looked just about ready to dig a ditch and roll in it.

“Well, as I said, everyone seemed to think I took care of the matter, so-”

Midoriya shook his head, utterly demoralized. “Kacchan will tell them.”

“Kacchan?”

“Ah, the hostage. He’s my friend, the one who knows about my quirk. I don’t think he’ll lie to the police for my sake.”

“Ah, I see. I hadn’t realized you two were acquainted.” Toshinori offered him a supportive smile. “I guess that explains your burst of heroism.”

“...No one else was doing anything. I saw you among the crowd, but… I thought you couldn’t help.”

The boy had an almost tortured expression, which reignited the deep-seated guilt that had plagued Toshinori in those harrowing minutes. “...I thought I couldn’t help either.”

“But you did jump in though. Even though… it hurts you?” Midoriya scanned him from head to toe in concern, as if looking for unnoticed signs of damage. “Why?”

“Why did you decide to intervene, despite your fear?”

“I… I just couldn’t let my friend suffer because I messed up.”

“Well, there you have it.” Toshinori simply said. The boy stared at him thoughtfully, apparently weighing his words carefully, before nodding slowly and resuming his perusal of the ground. Toshinori let the silence stretch for a minute. There was still plenty he wanted to ask, especially regarding Midoriya’s father, but-

“I really do want to give the quirk back.” The kid mumbled. “Should I just… go to the police and ask them? They’ll come looking for me anyway, I guess, but…”

Toshinori pondered the issue for a moment, then he pulled his phone out of his pocket. The least he could do was make this whole ordeal as smooth as possible for the kid. “I think I can help with that. Give me your number. I’ll text you to let you know when we can visit the villain. If we’re lucky, it may be as early as tomorrow.”

Toshinori registered the boy’s contact information as they entered a quaint residential area with neat little rows of numbered buildings, pleasantly tinged with the warm hues of the sunset.

“Ah, that’s where I live.” Midoriya said afterwards, pointing at a nearby apartment complex. “Thank you for everything, All-”

Toshinori shushed him with a sharp gesture as he gazed around the street nervously. “Please, don’t call me that when I’m in this form.”

Midoriya froze, then bowed respectfully. “R-Right! Thank you, sir! I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble, and taking so much of your time, and-”

Toshinori waved the upcoming barrage of apologies off and bid him a good evening, waiting for the boy to leave. Which he didn’t do.

“Uhm.” Midoriya pointed at Toshinori’s shoulder with an awkward smile. “I need that…”

Oh, right, backpack. “Whoops, there you go.” He tossed Midoriya’s belongings to their owner and watched the kid bustle up the stairs of the building and into one of the apartments. Then he fetched his phone and picked the third number on speed-dial.

“Tsukauchi? Do you have a moment? ….Ah, fine, thank you. Listen, can I drop by your place this evening? Something’s come up and I’d rather not discuss it on the phone… No, but definitely worth looking into sooner rather than later…”

He hung up a couple of exchanges later, after agreeing on the time for the meeting. Toshinori decided he had enough time to make his way back home, shower and have some sort of passable dinner before ruining his friend’s evening. And then he would head back home and he would sleep, even if he had to repeatedly bash his head against a wall to achieve that. He inhaled deeply and let out a long-overdue, exhausted sigh.

What a day.

Hopefully tomorrow wouldn’t be quite as taxing.

“THIEF”

Izuku was stuck on the spot, his feet and ankles wrapped in a thick layer of sludge that stretched on the ground as far as the eye could see. The faint light filtering from both ends of the underpass gave it flickering, changing hues, now green like bile, now brown like vomit, now black like tar. It smelled like sewer and dirty toilets.

“BASTARD”

The slime clung to the walls of the underpass, climbing on them as if endowed with its own will. It crawled up higher and higher, and then went on to expand onto the ceiling. Its surface boiled and squirmed producing disgusting squelching sounds. Izuku looked away from the revolting goo-coated structure he was boxed in, he looked towards the exit, hoping that something, someone would show up to drag him out of that hell.

“GIVE IT BACK”

Someone emerged from the sludge, a few meters ahead of him. A man. A flabby, hairless, mucky man, with haunted eyes and a mouth open in a silent scream. He sweated slime, cried slime, drooled slime, from every orifice and every pore of his body. He waded towards Izuku slowly, an arm extended before him as if to grab him. Izuku couldn’t stand that sight either. He aimed his gaze at the ceiling, right when a huge bubble of gunk popped right above him, and chunky dollops of filth splashed on his face, into his nose and mouth.

“OR I’LL RIP IT OUT OF YOU”

Izuku coughed and heaved, trying to expel the repulsive substance from his pipes, but two cold, slick hands clamped around his throat, trapping it in his body. He could feel the ooze drip down into his lungs, his stomach- he could feel it wiggle and push, like a living parasite trying to break free from the flesh constraining it. Izuku scrambled to tear the man’s hands off him, but those too melted under his fingers like the same fluid that was everywhere, closing down on him, choking him, pulling him apart from the inside-

Izuku woke up with a whole-body lurch that nearly sent him rolling off the bed, sweaty and breathless. He took in the familiar shadows of his room, and the red numbers of his alarm clock floating in the darkness at his eye level.

6:20 AM.

Izuku turned on his belly with a frustrated groan, sinking his face into the pillow. Sure, he’d had a pretty harrowing day yesterday. It was bound to leave him a little shaken and maybe disturb his sleep for a while. But seven nightmares in the span of as many hours seemed slightly excessive. Especially seven instances of the exact same nightmare, sentient goo and Munch-like villain and all. The boy fumbled blindly for his phone to check if he’d received any new messages in the last fifty-five minutes. He hadn’t, of course. He prayed that All Might would contact him soon, it didn’t take a degree in psychology to guess the nature of the ‘unfinished business’ his subconscious was so keen on grilling him about.

He stared at the screen blankly, wondering, for roughly the hundredth time, if he should call his father. On one hand, he very probably should. If the man had deemed that little scuffle with Kacchan emergency-worthy, surely a mess this humongous in size warranted a call as well. On the other hand… Izuku didn’t really want to.

The previous night’s news broadcast had covered the sludge villain incident rather haphazardly, it being a relatively contained accident with no serious consequences or injuries. Izuku was sure they had bothered to touch on the fact in the first place just because All Might had been involved, and the number one hero would receive prime time coverage even for something as trivial as being spotted buying soda at a convenience store. Curiously, Izuku hadn’t been mentioned at all, not even indirectly. Kacchan had been named and shown as the victim, the other heroes had been acknowledged, but All Might had been appointed as the sole person responsible for the resolution of the mishap. Not a word about any irresponsible middle schoolers joining the fray.

Izuku had taken it as a promising sign. All Might had likely interceded for him with the police and obtained a modicum of discretion about his involvement, at least in regards to the media. The hero had been so very understanding the previous day - just thinking about it made the boy almost tear up anew. He had barely reacted to the shocking revelation of his quirk, he had tolerated his unseemly outburst, he had spoken to him as if… as if Izuku was just another innocent victim caught up in a bad situation, rather than a potential menace. He hadn’t hesitated even for a second to offer him his hand, despite knowing the threat that Izuku’s own hands posed. He had… he had made him feel safe, and trusted. He had allowed Izuku to hope that maybe, just maybe, this whole thing could be fixed, that Izuku could handle it with his help, even without subjecting his father to undue sniveling.

And, objectively speaking, what could Izuku’s father do at this point? Izuku doubted that, regardless of his governmental position, the man could prevent the truth from spreading once it had reached both the police and the number one hero. Izuku could make an educated guess about his reaction too, and it wasn’t all that encouraging. It was too late for stern recommendations about secrecy, or for disappointed sighs and gratuitous snark about Izuku’s blind faith in All Might’s mediation skills. And, to be perfectly honest, Izuku dreaded the possibility of finally and completely alienating the sympathy of the one person that had supported and advised him for his whole life, in his own peculiar way. Yes, it was childish of him. Yes, he would have to tell his father anyway, eventually. But he’d rather do it after the matter had been settled, hopefully for the best, and after he’d had a little more time to gather his thoughts and figure out how to word it a little less unfavorably for himself. So, there. It was the 28th of April too, he could wait another day or two, at least. No biggie.

By breakfast time, Izuku had reviewed the issue three more times, had another nightmare, and accepted the fact that this was going to be a long day.

School went by in that typical hazy fashion that was the result of intellectual activities synergizing poorly with a sleep-deprived brain. Izuku kept eyeing Kacchan warily throughout the first three classes, harboring the half-baked notion of addressing yesterday’s events. He regretted doing it the very moment he opened his mouth to greet him during recess.

“What?” Kacchan growled without sparing him a single glance.

“Uh, ah, I…” How are you was one possible conversation starter. A bad one, for sure. Worrying about Kacchan’s well-being implied that he may not be okay, which implied weakness, which invited aggression as a counter-argument. Did you tell anyone else about what I did yesterday was downright rude, as if Izuku’s quirk was more important than his friend being almost murdered. In fact, any reference to the villain incident was a minefield. Braver classmates than Izuku had already made their inquiries during homeroom, and Kacchan hadn’t taken kindly to their snooping. This really was a bad-

“WHAT?” Kacchan barked, turning sharply towards Izuku and banging his fist on his desk for emphasis.

“Uh, nothing! Just saying hello! Hi! Bye!” Izuku fled the classroom without looking back before Kacchan decided to force-feed him his own shoes.

The first bit of good news of the day reached him during lunch, under the guise of a text.

Hey kid! We can drop by the police station this afternoon at 5 if you’re free

Izuku brought up the virtual keyboard to reply, but he stopped with his finger poised over the screen. He blinked at the unlabeled string of digits identifying the sender.

He had All Might’s phone number. One of many, probably. Definitely one of the lowest priority lines. Or maybe just some sort of burner phone for communications with civilians only. Still. He had All Might’s phone number. All Might was texting him. The realization made him half-choke on his rice.

Should he save it? Would that be a breach of confidentiality? Even if he used a not-too-obvious handle? N1? SP? AM? Ante Meridiem? ...That would just make it more suspicious, wouldn’t it? He’d just… commit it to memory for now. In case he ever needed it again. For purely altruistic reasons.

Sure, I’m free! Thank you very much for the help!

Izuku’s phone chimed again a couple of minutes later.

We’ll come pick you up at your place

That ‘we’ raised a small wave of anxiety in Izuku, but he willed himself to suppress it. He couldn’t expect All Might to shield him from any and all interactions with the force. It’d be fine. He could handle this.

The perspective of visiting the villain revived Izuku’s attention for the remaining lessons, only for him to crash back into fidgety inactivity as soon as he got home and found himself without anything to do for almost two hours before the agreed time. Homework was out of the question, he was too distracted. He figured a nap would be the most inoffensive way to while away the time while also recovering some higher brain functions. And so it was only with a mild heart attack that Izuku was roused by the ringing of the doorbell at 4.50 PM.

“Young Midoriya! Good afternoon!” Even at a glance, Izuku could tell that All Might was in better shape than the previous day. He stood a bit straighter, his smile was a bit wider, his hair was slightly less chaotic. He was also wearing slacks and a button up shirt that, while still dramatically oversized, made him look a bit less like a phthisic hospital runaway. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes! Thank you so much for going out of your way to take care of me!” Izuku declared with a rigid bow to All Might and to the other man standing by his side - definitely a detective, judging by his stereotypical trench coat.

All Might patted the man on the back with an even bigger grin. “This is Naomasa Tsukauchi, my favorite detective on the force! You may speak freely before him, you won’t find anyone more trustworthy in the whole of Japan!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Midoriya.” Tsukauchi politely removed his hat and shook the boy’s hand with an amused smirk, a sign that he was probably familiar with the hero’s odd choice of an introduction. He then peeked behind Izuku’s shoulders towards the inside of the house. “Isn’t your mother going to join us?”

“Ah no, she had a doctor’s appointment booked for today. It’s fine though, I’ll just send her a text to let her know where I’m going.” Izuku had warned his mother that he may have to visit the precinct soon. He had had to justify his singed and grimy school uniform the day before, so he had told her that he’d been marginally involved in the sludge villain incident, and the police was likely to want to collect his statement on the matter. It was only by pure chance that the news broadcast hadn’t outed his abridgment of the facts.

“Ah… We were hoping to have a few words with her too, actually.” Tsukauchi glanced at All Might, whose eyes darted briefly between the detective and the boy.

“I… may have forgotten to mention that.” All Might scratched the back of his neck with an apologetic grimace. “Well, I guess it can’t be helped. We’ll catch up with her another time, if necessary.”

Izuku had the sneaking suspicion that being All Might’s favorite detective came at a price. Tsukauchi just sighed, before regarding him with a gentle smile. “Well, if you are sure you don’t mind coming with us all by yourself…”

“I don’t mind at all!” Izuku hurried to reassure them.

A minute later he was in the backseat of Tsukauchi’s speeding car, typing a message to his mother and struggling to suppress a monstrous yawn, courtesy of his interrupted nap.

“Tired?” All Might asked, intercepting his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“A bit. I didn't sleep well last night.”

“Ah, I know that feeling.” The hero’s expression mellowed in sympathy. “I’m sure you’ll rest more easily once this is over and done with.”

“I hope so.” Izuku pocketed his phone and gazed at the moving buildings out of the car window, mostly just to break eye contact. Somehow All Might’s open kindness felt undeserved, especially for something as trivial as a bunch of spooky dreams. He focused on more urgent matters. “So, uh… how are we going to do this? Does the villain know I’m coming, will I explain things to him? Will you, uh, keep an eye on things from outside or accompany me...?”

“Well, we were thinking of throwing you into his cell, locking the door and letting the two of you fight for dominance and ownership over the quirk- “ All Might grinned widely in response to Izuku’s exasperated gape.

“Yagi!” The detective reprimanded him, only mildly scandalized. The name bounced a few times around Izuku’s brain, plain and mystifying at the same time.

“Sorry, just trying to lift his spirits.”

“You have nothing to worry about, it’ll be perfectly safe.” Tsukauchi provided, clearly having a much better understanding of the state of Izuku’s spirits despite knowing him for a scant ten minutes. “The villain will be in his cell and we will escort you inside, of course. You won’t really interact with each other, as he’ll likely be deeply asleep.”

“Asleep?”

“Yes. The apparent loss of his quirk has upset him greatly. He’s barely spoken since we took him into custody, and he’s spent the whole night in severe emotional distress. We would have transferred him to a hospital this morning if you hadn’t agreed to help so promptly. As things stood, we simply had a doctor prescribe him a strong sedative. Hopefully he’ll settle down spontaneously after you return his quirk.”

The man’s words weighed on Izuku’s heart like a ton of bricks. Damn, that was… horrible. He’d been holding onto someone else’s quirk for barely a day, and it had already caused that much sorrow. That wasn’t how Izuku’s power was supposed to be used. It would never be, as far as he was concerned.

“I’m sure he will.” All Might commented, all traces of humour vanished from his demeanor. “Don’t worry, kid. It’ll be a matter of a minute.”

Izuku nodded, and didn’t speak again for the rest of the trip. When they reached their destination, he let All Might guide him towards the detention area of the complex while Tsukauchi wandered off somewhere else, probably taking care of the bureaucratic side of things. He reappeared relatively soon, and they entered one of the cells all together.

The cell was small and mostly barren, furnished with only the most essential goods and surfaces for a relatively short stay. Idly, Izuku wondered what systems they had in place to prevent a… slippery criminal such as the current occupant from escaping from toilets or sinks. Surely they were prepared to- he realized he was spacing out. He should just get on with it.

The villain was indeed sleeping, huddled in a small foldable bedding on the floor. Izuku had barely caught a glimpse of the man’s human form the previous day, yet he was identical to how he’d envisioned him in his dreams. His subconscious was just that observant, apparently. It suddenly occurred to Izuku that he hadn’t even asked for the man’s name yet. The news broadcast hadn’t reported- he was procrastinating again. Just do it, Izuku.

The boy glanced questioningly at the detective, who made a small gesture to indicate that he was free to proceed. He approached his assailant and crouched beside him. The villain’s hand was sticking out from under the blanket, next to his head. Izuku rested his palm against the back of it, and simply willed the quirk out.

Just like that, it was done. Izuku stood up and stepped back as the man’s body swiftly changed its texture and color, morphing and rearranging itself until a vaguely man-shaped, green heap of goo had replaced the slumbering human. The villain remained dead to the world throughout the entire process.

“...I’m done.” Izuku whispered, quite redundantly. He peered back at the two men at the opposite side of the room, and he didn’t miss the quick, sharp side-glance they’d just quietly exchanged.

“Thank you very much for your cooperation.” Tsukauchi said with the utmost honesty once they were again in the hallway. “While you’re here, would you mind if I collected your statement about the incident? It won’t take long, we already have a clear picture of the situation thanks to All Might.”

“Uh… Okay.” Izuku had hoped, rather optimistically, to skip that part, but he had no reasonable excuse to refuse. Tsukauchi led them to an empty room a couple of corridors further ahead, and held the door open for them. All Might lingered on the threshold.

“May I sit in?” His question was aimed at Izuku for some reason, rather than at his friend.

“Of course!” Izuku confirmed, when both adults just stared at him in silence, clearly waiting for his permission. The hero thanked him with a small nod and an equally small smile.

They all sat around the desk in the middle of the room, Tsukauchi on one side, and Izuku and All Might on the other. It struck Izuku as a little strange, automatically expecting the two upholders of the law to face him side by side. He wondered if it may be a setup for some sort of good-cop-bad-cop routine. Not that either of them seemed especially suited to the latter role. Tsukauchi was very much the embodiment of professionalism, and All Might… All Might looked especially non-threatening in that moment, almost meek. He was sitting very tidily, big hands folded in his lap and long legs pressed against each other, occupying a remarkably small space considering the size of his frame. It made Izuku straighten his back and sit more neatly by reflex.

The questioning did proceed very smoothly at first. Tsukauchi let Izuku narrate his version of the events without interrupting at all, just humming and jotting down a few lines in his notepad now and then. All Might was just as unobtrusive, volunteering a sentence or two when Izuku happened to stumble on his words, or when he openly allowed him to recount the little scene on the rooftop, since the detective was already in on the big secret. Smooth sailing all round, until the point when Izuku had to bring up his quirk.

“On the subject of your quirk… when did it first manifest, exactly?” Tsukauchi asked.

“A little less than two years ago.”

“Ah, you’re quite the late bloomer! And you’ve only shared that fact with your friend Bakugo and your father, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And your father is one... Hisashi Midoriya, right?” Tsukauchi fished out a sheet of paper from the folder he’d retrieved before beginning the interrogation. He slid it across the table so that the boy could read it.

“Yes.” Izuku blinked, an undefined sense of unease gripping him all of a sudden. “...Why did you bother printing his personal details?”

“You’ve been filed as quirkless in the national registry after a routine medical examination when you were four years old. Your registration hasn’t been updated since then, as far as I could ascertain.” Tsukauchi explained calmly.

“Y-Yeah. I know.”

“...That is a punishable offense, I’m afraid. An accurate quirk registration is mandatory for all citizens.” Tsukauchi’s expression softened when Izuku utterly failed to hide his dismay. “This has no consequence on you, as minors aren’t expected to take care of these things by themselves, especially since quirk recording is often carried out when they’re extremely young. Your mother bears no blame either if, as you say, she’s as clueless about it as the rest of the world. But if your father knew and neglected to sort out the necessary paperwork for so long-”

“Oh.” Oh. Oh crap. Izuku had never thought of that. Why on earth had he never thought of that? Why, in almost two years, had he never considered the legal implications of all that secrecy? Why hadn’t his father? “Are you going to press charges against him?”

“Not yet. We’re at least going to get in touch with him and hear him out before taking any further steps.” The detective gave him a genuinely reassuring smile. “But even if we did, there is no cause for concern. These bureaucratic hitches are usually settled with a small fine.”

“I-I see.” Izuku gulped. He wasn’t going to wait until May. He was going to call his father as soon as he was alone. This probably wasn’t going to snowball into a lengthy legal conundrum, but still…

“What’s his occupation? I’m reading ‘administrative assistant’ here, which is a bit generic…”

“I don’t know much about that. He works for the government, I think, and he always says that all his activities are classified, so I try not to pry... Too much…”

“That is very judicious of you. I wish you could teach some of that tact to my sister…” Tsukauchi sighed, only half-jokingly. All Might let out a low chuckle at that. “Does your father know that you’ve been so reserved about your quirk so far?”

“Yes.”

“And he didn’t find it odd in the slightest?”

“...No.”

“Why do you think that is?” Izuku was suddenly very aware of both adults observing him quite intently. He really didn’t want to make things look any worse for his father. He could… slightly reframe the truth, maybe.

“I, uhm… Mine is a bit of a unique quirk. Difficult to use without, uh, stepping on other people’s toes. And I’ve been quirkless for most of my life, and… it’s no mystery that I envied other kids a lot because of that. I was worried that my schoolmates could be wary of me if they knew that I could… act on that envy now.”

Tsukauchi hummed, twirling his pen slowly between his fingers. “I can understand your concern. But quirk counselling is specifically designed to help children cope with such issues, and you’ve been missing out on it because of this extreme discretion. Your father should have realized he was doing you more harm than good by letting these fears fester in your mind.”

Izuku dropped his gaze on his father’s profile sheet. Detective Tsukauchi had a point, but… the matter was more complicated than that, as well as intricately intertwined with his father’s job and the troubled history of their quirk, and… Izuku didn’t want to delve into any of that at the moment.

“We’ll definitely schedule some counselling sessions for you in the future, I’m sure you’ll find them beneficial.” Tsukauchi hesitated. “...Did something catch your attention?”

Something did, in fact. Izuku was idly skimming through the content of his father’s profile, and a couple of details were giving him pause. The first was, unsurprisingly, his father’s listed quirk. Fire Breathing.

...nor do I have it printed in bold letters in my personal documents…

Yeah, Izuku wasn’t going to bring that up. The other thing, a little more surprisingly, was his photo.

“Oh, it’s nothing, just… I haven’t seen any photos of my father in a long time.”

“You haven’t seen ‘any photos’ of him?” Tsukauchi cocked his head curiously.

“Yeah… I’ve never met him in person, he travels a lot because of his job and he never has enough time to stop by. I only know what he looks like because of an old photo my mother showed me. I haven’t seen it in years too, so…”

“Only a single photo, uh? And this picture here doesn’t strike you as familiar?”

Izuku observed it more closely... No, he was surely mistaken. “No no, there’s… there’s definitely a resemblance. Mine was a very old photo, taken before I was born. And it wasn’t even a photo of him specifically, he just happened to be in it, at an odd angle and in the middle of a crowd… I’m sure this one is more accurate.”

“Are you still in possession of that photo, by any chance?” All Might chimed in unexpectedly, his bright eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yes, I think so… Hang on, let me check.” Izuku fetched his phone, opened the internet browser… Crap, it really had been a long time since he’d looked at the thing. Back then, he’d saved the file his mother had passed him on a free online storage site that… hopefully still existed? He hadn’t used it in at least four years. Was his account still active? Could he even retrieve the credentials with his current email address? “Uh… Actually, I don’t think I can get it right away. But I printed a copy of it once, it should be at home… somewhere…” Stashed in one of those boxes of old notebooks and magazines on top of his wardrobe, right? Or had it been thrown away when they had moved to their current apartment…? He fiddled with his phone with growing discomfort, acutely aware of the utter unhelpfulness of his babbling.

“We’d certainly be grateful if you could retrieve that photo for us, when you have a minute.” All Might finally conceded, taking pity on Izuku's floundering.

“Sure! I’ll try to find it as soon as I get home.”

“Much obliged.” Tsukauchi flipped quickly through his folder. Izuku was about to ask why the mention of that photo had sparked their interest so much, when Tsukauchi put Hisashi's file back into the folder and closed it with a snap. “Well, I think we’ve covered everything. Again, you’ve been immensely valuable to us, Midoriya.”

Izuku let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. All Might positively beamed at him and flashed him a thumbs up, which was its own, heart-warming reward. They all stood up and made to leave, when Izuku remembered he owed the two men a proper thanks.

“Ah, I really appreciate that you used your influence to… to get the papers off my back. It was… unreasonable of me to ask, but I really appreciate you humoring my hope for discretion anyway. I hope that it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

Tsukauchi and All Might traded a puzzled glance.

“We did nothing of the sort, kid. What makes you-” All Might stopped, as if struck by a sudden thought. “Ah! You did mention it yesterday, didn’t you? That you were expecting your friend to expose your quirk…”

“Yes. I… I imagine Kacchan told the journalists, and you took care of, uh, correcting his version?”

“No, no, there was no need to.” All Might waved his hand dismissively. “Your friend didn’t mention you at all. He was on the verge of fainting when you rushed in, he’d been strenuously fighting back against the villain for a while by that time. He was too exhausted to notice your intervention, and you bolted immediately afterwards. He never realized you were there.”

Izuku’s jaw dropped half-way open, but he shut it immediately with an audible click.

“...Ah.” Kacchan hadn’t realized. The bystanders hadn’t realized. The police hadn’t realized. All Might hadn’t really realized. That meant that no one, no one, would know about his quirk right now… if he hadn’t gone and spilled the beans about it himself. If he hadn’t dumped an unnecessary confession to the number one hero out of sheer, emotional anxiety.

...Boy, that next phone call was going to be one for the ages.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #deku #izuku midoriya #All Might #Toshinori Yagi #naomasa tsukauchi

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Text

Cut Myself Shaving.

Stuntman Mike (Death Proof) x reader

Warnings: death, violence, injury, swearing , mention of nsfw

Context: Mike has a little helper in case things go awry.

A/n: I watched Death Proof yesterday and now I'm obsessed with Kurt Russell's character in it...he's such a creep but he's charming at the same time and for some reason that means I'm attracted to him 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ basically, I need help 🤡😅

Masterlist

"Fucking idiot." I curse to myself as I watch the two cars speed past me, both battered and in desperate need of new paint jobs, dust flying out behind them. From my carefully hidden spot in a side road, I can easily tell that my friend's plan hasn't worked: the white car is pursuing the familiar black one, one of the passengers - the blonde woman - leaning from the window, screaming and shouting at their quarry. It sends a wave of irritation through me, that the bastard would get as sloppy as he has done in recent months. His...habits...have always annoyed me (it's totally unnecessary and it means I have to watch him go after beautiful young girls) but he gave me a job out of it, so I never say anything. Somewhere along the line, he managed to fuck up, and picked me as his next target, only to find that when he tried to outdrive me, I drove much better than he did, with just as little care for what happens to the car as he has. The fucker let me in on his secret and I've been his backup ever since, in case anyone ever gets in the way of his little game.

Now, it seems, I'm gonna have my work cut out for me.

Cursing again, I put the car into drive and gun it down the road, staying hidden behind a treeline, quickly moving through gears with smooth rapidity. Hanging onto the steering, I keep my breathing relaxed as the tyres screech beneath the speeding vehicle, my foot slamming down on the accelerator to get me level with my own targets. Engine roaring, the car jerks and bounces on the rough road surface, my harness keeping me from going through the windscreen a couple of times, the whole vehicle vibrating underneath me.

Glancing out of my window every few seconds, I make sure I know where Mike and his pursuers are, swearing colourfully to myself as I realise that they're headed towards a busy main road, meaning it'll be harder for me to keep my presence unknown. In my head, I make a note to scold the stuntman for it later, planning a new route as I go, smirking as I figure out exactly how I'm going to save his sorry ass.

For once, I'm glad I looked at and memorized maps of the surrounding area, plus the construction records (I get a lot of free time) so I know what's coming up on this road, the split coming into view just as I expect it to. Taking the left road, I take a deep breath and slam my foot onto the accelerator, pressing a button on the steering wheel. Immediately, a new, more powerful thrum in the engine below me comes to life, growling like some rabid animal as the car springs forwards, the speed dial tapping uselessly at the far end of the spectrum.

Unable to help myself, I let out a cry of exhilaration, hanging onto the steering wheel as I take a bend far too fast, the wheels skidding slightly, only to straighten again under my expertise. With my new route in sight, I grin wildly and brace myself, listening to the car roar at me as I gun it over the edge of the roadside.

The ground falls away beneath me, the car hurtling through the air towards a similar break in the road down below, where the two cars are just lifting off of the ground, going at a slower speed than mine but posing no less threat. My hands grip the wheel tightly, stomach dropping as the car starts to tip forwards, my muscles tensing in anticipation of what I know is coming.

Time seems to slow as I near them, my pulse pounding deafeningly in my ears, adrenaline coursing through me with the knowledge of what comes next. Staring through the windshield, I feel a smirk of satisfaction cross my face as one of the passengers of the white car turns and sees me, an expression of absolute fear and panic contorting her beautiful features, her eyes wide even as her mouth opens into a scream…

The cars slam into each other violently, the impact throwing me forwards into the harness, the straps jerking me back into my seat. My head falls forwards, heading for the steering wheel, though I manage to get my hands up before anything can happen, despite my knowledge that the safety harness will keep me from sustaining any real damage. Painful lines circle my arms and lap now from the straps, the wind knocked out of me from the sheer force of the collision. Glass flies into the car itself, the windows and windscreens of both vehicles shattering as we go hurtling towards the ground, many shards scraping over my bare arms and hands, leaving bloody wounds in their wakes.

The second impact throws me forwards again, my lungs struggling to force air into my body as the cars smash into the ground, rolling over each other roughly. Holding my arms closer to my body, I lift my hands up to protect my face, grunting as my shoulder is slammed against the side door. Nausea floods my system as the cars continue to roll a few times, my vision blurring over until we eventually come to a complete stop, mine resting just beside theirs.

Taking a moment, I regain my composure, breathing deeply to fight off the shock threatening to overwhelm me, ignoring the violent tremor in my hands as I scramble for the buckle of the harness. Blood on my fingertips makes it hard for me to grip the clean metal, the digits slipping off of it a few times before I can unclasp myself, pain rapidly spreading through me as the adrenaline starts to wear off. Having unbuckled myself, I try the door beside me, sighing in relief as it comes open under my hands, allowing me to leave the death trap that is the wreckage.

As I climb out, I grab my first aid kit from the glove compartment, hobbling from my trusty car with a slight sense of bitterness, knowing what I'll have to do to make sure Mike and I really are out of trouble. Glancing back at the main road, I'm glad to find that the crash site is not visible to the road users, so what I'll do now won't get me in any grief if someone were to see me.

Approaching the crumpled white Dodge, I stoop down to look through the passenger window (the car is upside down), lifting an eyebrow as I realise the occupants are still alive...somehow. As I get closer, the passenger feebly looks up at me, confusion trying to creep into her agonized expression.

"Wh-who are you?" She croaks out, her voice totally shot.

Managing a cruel smirk, I reach into my pocket and bring out a box of matches, taking one out for her to see.

"The Devil's sidekick." I rasp at her, relishing in the confusion in her eyes, watching as it turns to realisation and horror as I strike the match, lighting it.

Straightening, I ignore her pleas for mercy, stepping away as I throw the match at the warped hood, adding a second to the undercarriage for good measure, knowing the fuel will catch soon enough. With some difficulty, I limp away from the two cars, getting about ten metres away before a deafening crack splits the air, the wreckage going up in flames in mere seconds. Now it's just a matter of finding my way to the person I've destroyed my car for.

Thankfully, it doesn't take me long to find him, though when I do, I have to fight back a sound of exasperation.

Stuntman Mike has pulled over into a deserted side road, just a mile down the main road, making sure he's well hidden, though the amount he's screaming and crying isn't going to keep him like that for long. He's still in his car, but he's left the window open so I can hear every sound of agony and frustration he's making, my heart tugging slightly at the cries of pain. Sighing, I make my way over, holding onto the roof of the car for support as my leg finally gives a little, my face twisting into a grimace. I must've made some noise when I did so, as Mike suddenly shouts in horror, the car engine starting to splutter as he tries to get the beaten vehicle to move again. Quickly, I reach the open window, which I now realise is smashed in, grabbing hold of it and ducking to look into the interior.

"It's me! Mike, calm down, it's me! (Y/n)!" I reassure him as he turns terror-stricken eyes on me, his face pale and bloodied from a blow to his cheek.

"(Y/n)? What happened to you?" He breathes out, eyes roaming over me as he realises back into his seat, only to tense in pain again.

"Cut myself shaving." I mutter in response, pulling the door open and moving to help him out, having noticed that he's in worse shape than I thought he'd be.

Taking his weight, I bite back a sound of discomfort as my leg protests, my shoulder aching from where it connected with my car but I ignore it, dragging him from the driver's seat. Slinging his arm over my shoulders, I help him hobble over to a nearby rock, setting him down on it with a sigh, standing back to look him over, glad I brought my first aid kit now.

The stuntman is cradling his left arm, where a patch of his t-shirt has come away to reveal bloodied skin, his face splattered with the crimson stuff. Purple bruising blooms on one cheek, curling up over his gnarled scar and around his weaker eye, skin grazed away in places from the ferocity of the blow. He looks thoroughly shaken, eyes wide, breaths coming hard and fast, body trembling with the fading adrenaline.

Sighing, I go closer, kneeling beside the rock he's sat on to look at his injuries, looking up at him as I reach out to touch his arm. Reluctantly, he nods, his ego bruised as I gently place a hand on his bicep.

"Careful, I'm pretty sure it's broken." He murmurs, wincing as I feel over the tensed muscles, trying not to get too distracted by the proximity.

"Yeah, got it." I mumble, chewing my lip in consternation, "You're gonna have to take this off."

Gesturing to his shirt, I lean forwards to help him out of the garment, pulling it carefully over his head. Mike gives me a slightly embarrassed look, but I dismiss it and open the first aid kit, swallowing as I look over his torso. For a guy his age he's really not a bad looking guy - the man has stayed somewhat in shape over the years - making it hard to concentrate, especially as I realise I'm going to have to kneel between his legs in order to get to the wound properly.

Blushing, I pull some gauze and rubbing alcohol out of the kit, taking up a position between his thighs where I can easily reach the bloody puncture wound in his shoulder. He watches me closely as I reach up and feel over his back for an exit wound, glad to find one even as he tenses and hisses under my touch. Knowing I need to work quickly, I get started, cleaning up the puncture as best I can, wiping away blood enough so that I can plug the hole and tape it up, sticking a bandage over it. I go to repeat this on his other side, working quickly.

"How the hell did you get shot?" I ask him after a moment, finding the silence between us awkward.

"One of those bitches pulled a gun on me. Shot at me a couple of times, before it hit me. Hurts like a bitch." Mike explains, hissing again as I prod the wound a little too hard.

"She pulled a gun? How did you even get close enough?" I'm confused as to his story, having only seen that it ended in him being chased onto the freeway.

Allowing me to continue working on his injuries, Mike recites his version of events, voice strained in pain and fatigue, eyes never leaving me as I move around him, cleaning up his scrapes and bruises. After a while, I end up at his face, carefully dabbing at a few grazes with an alcohol-soaked piece of gauze. Standing this close to him, I can feel his every breath on my cheek, vaguely aware of the fingers clutching at my jacket every now and then as I go over a particularly painful spot, my pulse picking up slightly.

"...next thing I know, you're at my window looking like you just walked through hell." He finishes, licking his lips to wet them again as he pulls his shirt back on.

"Feels like I did." I laugh dryly, leaning back as I finish on his face, "I'll be back in a sec, hang on."

Quickly, I limp over to his car again, rifling through his things in the compartment by his seat before pulling a small bottle from the rubbish. Going back to him, I stand in front of him and hold it up.

"Mind if I…?" I gesture to him, pointing at his arm, which I've now put in a sling to keep out of harm's way.

The stuntman nods, tilting his head back as I step into his personal space again, standing between his legs. Carefully, I open the bottle and lean over him, gently placing a hand on his face to steady myself, trying not to let the butterflies in my stomach disturb me as his blue pupils fix on me. Slowly, I drip a few drops into his eyes, using a thumb to wipe away any stray droplets, almost smiling as he leans into my touch slightly. I pull away reluctantly, screwing the bottle back up and chucking it at the first aid kit before I take a seat beside him, inadvertently sitting close enough that our thighs are touching.

Sighing, I reach into my pocket, pulling a pack of cigarettes out and removing one, offering them to him as I grab the box of matches from before again. He doesn't take one, saying something about sharing mine, watching me closely as I light it. Taking the first breath of smoke, I close my eyes and enjoy the burning of the cloud entering my lungs, slowly breathing it out again a moment later. Wordlessly, I hand the smoke to him, willing to share with him as I've always done, keeping my eyes closed for now.

After a while, Mike hands the cigarette back, letting me take it as I stay blinded, placing the roll of paper and tobacco between my lips to puff on it languidly. It's not too long after that I feel a hand gingerly come to rest on my knee. Confused, I keep my eyes closed, not minding the contact and curious to see where this goes, holding back a gasp as he moves the strong grip further up my leg, closing his fingers over my thigh. A rustle and stifled grunt of pain alerts me to his movements, though it still shocks me a little as he leans in to smooth some hair from my face, removing the grip from my leg. Opening my eyes again, I look over at him, surprised to see him gazing at me with an intense expression on his face.

Upon seeing me look, he cups my cheek, stroking his thumb over my cheekbone in a gentle manner I've never seen him display. I don't know what comes over me, but I suddenly find myself talking.

"Please don't do anything like that again." I murmur, voice quiet, "I don't know what I'd do if something happened."

Mike looks taken aback, shock clouding his features as he regards me, as if he never expected this level of closeness with me.

"Please, Mike. I don't know why, or how, but I've come to care about you, and I couldn't bear it if you weren't around." I inform him, looking down in embarrassment, blushing furiously.

It's quiet for a long moment, before he suddenly leans in closer, breath ghosting over my face until he seals my lips with his. Tenderly, the stuntman kisses me, gently coaxing me into moving with him, one hand slipping round to tangle in my hair. Shocked, I feel my eyes close in surprised pleasure, body melting into him as he pulls me closer, our lips moving in perfect sync, his slightly rougher ones warm against my softer ones. It's not long before I feel his tongue slip out to flick against my lower lip, but before I can open up for him, he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine.

"I'll be more careful, I swear." He hums, stroking back my hair with his good hand, "For you, I'll be careful."

Smiling, I lean back in, kissing him softly on the lips, moving with him as he gently encourages me to sit on his lap, my legs straddling his as he wraps his arm around me. Pulling me flush against him, he kisses me passionately, swallowing the sounds of pleasure leaving me, splaying his hand on my back as I card mine through his thick hair. This time as he licks at my lips, I let him in immediately, letting the slick muscle slide inside to explore and rub alongside my own. Avoiding his bad arm, I moan into the kiss and pull on his hair, eliciting a groan from him.

He pulls away again after some time, staring into my eyes with a care and love I've never seen in them before, my heart skipping a beat as he smiles up at me, a genuine smile. Not his usual scheming smirk.

"Come on, let's go home. I wanna show you just how careful I can be." Mike smirks, his hand skimming down to squeeze a handful of my ass, making my hips rock forwards suddenly into his. He groans, helping me stand.

With his words in mind, I help him over to the car, opening the back door for him to climb in.

"I'm not letting you drive with one arm, and this is safer than the passenger's seat." I say as he shoots me a questioning look.

Mike shrugs and mutters an agreement, climbing into the seat behind me, waiting for me to get into the driver's seat and fasten myself in before talking again.

"What happened to your car?" He asks, his good hand reaching round to run his fingers over my arm.

"Used it to blow up those bitches coming after you." I inform him, somewhat saddened by the loss of the vehicle - I had loved it.

"Thanks, sugar." He says, using his favourite nickname, most likely aware of the effect it has on me, especially as I feel him lean closer to the back of the seat, nosing at the side of my neck. Deftly, his tongue flicks out to lick over my pulse point, lips pressing against it to suck a mark, there drawing a moan from me.

"Gonna have to get you a new car, hm?" He almost purrs into my ear, biting my ear lobe before retreating again.

Feeling heat rushing to my core, I reluctantly put the car into drive and start to pull away, going slow as I wait for him to settle back into his seat and buckle himself up.

"That would be great." I chuckle, shakily.

"Yeah, it will be. Means I'll have somewhere else to fuck you besides mine and the bed." I blanch at his lewd words, feeling a heated need explode inside me at the idea of what he's suggesting.

As I pull away, I can't help but go faster than usual, using all my expertise to get us home as quickly as possible.

Tag list- @feirceangel @xlmonster-mashlx

#Death Proof #death proof #Stuntman Mike #Stuntman Mike x reader #Stuntman Mike imagine #Kurt Russell #Kurt Russell imagine #Quentin Tarantino #break writes

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brawlingdiscontent · 3 years

Text

the men of metal, menacing with golden face, 3/?

a.k.a sequel to terrible with the brightness of gold

(cherik fic, viking au, subtle a/b/o, mature rating)

(part one) (part two)

Hi all, I am so sorry for the space between these updates! - I am so close to finishing my PhD (not in any history or medieval studies field, lol) and things are just really hectic with revisions, publications and syllabi, etc.

A reminder that the last chapter (from 5000 years ago) ended with Charles being graphically/violently threatened by a mysterious man. (See the link above if you’d like to re-read it.

Warnings: Slightly gory description, mentions/implications of violence and sexual assault, child death (not Charles’ kids)

----

In the end, they don't set off that afternoon.

It’s decided in a council, a strategy meeting that Charles is not invited to, and reported to him curtly by Lehnsherr later that day that if they start off early enough it’s only most of a day’s ride to Eoforowic, and is the preferable alternative to the vulnerability of camping overnight.

He sees almost no one before the Danish king returns to the tent bearing an evening meal.

The man in question has forgone the advisors and trailing pages, leaving his subordinates behind for the night, as no loud voices or other signs announce his arrival. The denizens of the camp are likely off savouring the hours of daylight that remain in varied nefarious ways. The long summer nights are not yet over, but in the tent it’s darker, shadowed but not yet dim enough to warrant a candle or fat lamp. The canvas walls seem to glow faintly with the strange quality of early evening light.

Charles has arranged himself in a defensive position, seated at the small table on the lone chair facing the tent flap. He took advantage of his time alone to redistribute a number of the furs from the main pile, making the corner where he intends once again to sleep more comfortable and well-padded. Together with the extra things Alex brought him--when, under the watchful eyes of the guards, they risked exchanging only a nod to confirm his task’s success--he fashioned a warm berth for himself. His current placement, with its slight chill, is a tactical necessity. He straightens in the hard, wooden seat. It’s best to avoid being caught in a prone position lest Lehnsherr take it as an invitation.

When he enters, Lehsherr carries in two rough-hewn, steaming wooden bowls balanced atop an extra stool.

“You must be hungry.”

Charles scans him for ulterior motives, finding none for now. He hasn’t eaten since the food that was left for him this morning, but can’t seem to muster up much of an appetite.

“Yes. Thank you,” he says anyway. He needs to keep his strength up.

Lehnsherr sets the bowls on the small table, nudging one slightly towards Charles, and the stool beside it. He then turns away, once again going through the routine of divesting himself of his gear. If he notices or has any feelings about Charles’ rearrangement of his space he says nothing, leaving Charles to return to his own thoughts.

That afternoon, after the monstrous man retreated, slinking off to some other part of the camp while Charles stood shaken, Charles’ guards had suddenly and conspicuously reappeared.

As he was escorted back to Lehnsherr’s tent, Charles had, briefly, turned over the possibility of telling him what happened. Of what could be construed as nothing other than a violent threat. But the man hadn’t actually done anything, hadn’t even touched Charles. And what, even, were the chances that Lehnsherr would believe him—or that he would care? In any case what exactly could he expect the Dane to do? The bear-man, whoever he is, must be powerful, as he contrived some way—whether by bribery or sheer command—to send the guards away from their positions outside the tent.

—Or, the thought had occurred to him, both disturbing and the most plausible yet, perhaps Lehnsherr had sent the man to threaten him, to warn him off and keep him in line. It is this possibility that is nearest in his mind as Lehnsherr wanders the tent.

“I trust you found your men well?” Lehnsherr questions, not turning from where he is folding his gambeson.

Charles contemplates several responses. Acerbic: ‘Alive would be a more accurate understanding.’ Another part of him wants to respond in anger, Logan’s blackened eye, the morning’s events, urging him to confront and accuse Lehnsherr. It’s an urge he knows is at least partly the product of fear. He presses his palms flat against the wood of the table and feels its uneven surface press back. In the end, exhausted, and unwilling to cause a fuss, he settles on, “I did,” then turns towards the bowl before him.

The food is hot, rabbit this time. Likely commandeered from one of the many the braziers and fire pits that dot the camp as he doubts Lehnsherr has had time for hunting. It is good, and Charles feels some appetite flare again, even when Lehnsherr has divested enough weapons and layers and joins him at the table.

A silence falls between them, not exactly awkward, but not quite comfortable either. On Charles’ end, it stems from reservation. Lehnsherr, conversely, seems content not to speak.

Charles steals surreptitious glances between bites. He studies the lines of the other man’s face trying to puzzle him out as the shadows in the tent begin to lengthen.

He’s a man become even more confusing and inscrutable after the day’s events. If Lehnsherr had sent that beast of a man to threaten him in place of doing so himself, it speaks to a capacity for sophisticated psychological manipulation, one that goes beyond and complicates his reputation for sheer brutality. For all of Charles’ careful planning he hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that Lehnsherr might be worse than Shaw. He needs to know who he’s—getting into bed with, his mind supplies—getting involved with. Only then can he have any hope to defend himself. For who can say what will happen to whatever appeal he has—the tenuous sexual hold that had checked Lehnsherr the night before—once Lehnsherr finally gets what he wants and is sated. What then can Charles possibly do to hold him back, should he prove monstrous?

He must have been more transparent in his observation than he realized, an act which once again is misinterpreted.

“Relax, your Highness.” Lehnsherr says. “I’ll honour your wish to wait. I won’t touch you.”

“Until we are married,” Charles says aloud if only to remind himself, tracking with his eyes the slow advance of a line of shadow across the table.

“Until we are married,” Lehnsherr agrees, his voice carrying notes of something that has Charles turning back studiously to his food to avoid analyzing.

...

The sun is just ghosting above the horizon when they assemble to head off the next morning, gently bathing the plain in its orange-red glow. There’s a morning chill carried in the wind that batters at Charles’ cheeks. It wipes away the bleariness of the early hour, and makes him glad that extra furs were among the items that he’d requested Alex fetch. And yet the last edges of summer are holding on; it’s nothing compared to the winter they’ll face once the seasons change and even the memories of warmth fade.

Lehnsherr had woken him just before dawn, and they’d had a hurried breakfast in the tent by the light of a flickering taper. More of the flat, dry bread and some of the season’s last berries, foraged from a nearby bush.

They’ll be going overland to Eoforwic. It’s the slower route than sailing up the coast, which tells Charles that either Lehnsherr doesn’t want their journey observed or reported, or that he’s uncertain of what awaits them in Eoforwic.

Scanning the group, Charles counts about fifty gathered, all told. Enough to defend themselves if it came down to it, but still a small enough party to travel relatively unobtrusively.

His horse gives a restless shuffle, tugging gently on the reins in his hands. A nobleman's former mount, certainly. Fine little features stand out in the saddle, tack, and gear. The rivets in the saddle bags are detailed in a star motif, points radiating out in blades of light, as only the very wealthy could afford. It was probably scavenged from its slain owner, or, optimistically, was given up by a defeated city relinquishing its riches. Londres had given up several hundred horses in the surrender.

Lehnsherr, who’d gone off on an unnamed errand after seeing Charles matched with a horse, approaches once more. He’s leading not only a horse of his own, but a woman. Charles recognizes her dark eyes and small stature from the previous morning.

“Charles,” Lehnsherr says without ceremony, “this is Angel. She’s here to assist you.”

He looks back over at her, as she returns his gaze placidly. Assist him? The road, travelling rough as they are, is no place for an attendant. Then, focusing on her smooth expression, it all clicks into place.

Assist him. Ha. More like spy on him. He quickly re-assesses the meeting he interrupted yesterday as an intelligence report. Interesting. Sebastian, with his more traditionalist views, would likely not have thought to assign such a job to a beta or omega woman.

He manages, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Angel.” It’s a lie, of course, but Charles was raised with manners, and she can’t help the assignment she's been tasked with. While Charles is fairly confident in his charm, Angel proves just as enigmatic as her commander, offering merely a hint of a smile and a raised eyebrow before turning to see to her own mount.

With eyes on him secured, Lehnsherr seems relatively content to leave him alone, as he heads up towards the front of the column to rally the troops.

They set off, and Charles easily falls towards the back of the group, ghosted by Angel. If he had any remaining doubts about her occupation, they dissipate after watching her subte, silent moments, even on horseback.

Travelling en masse, they alternate bursts of speed with walking breaks to keep a sustainable pace for the horses.

He is content to pass the first canter course just relishing the abandon of the pace, the uneven terrain below the horses’ hooves. The sun gradually climbs higher until he can feel the warmth of it on his hair, and the wind blows across his face. He basks in the experience of being out in the open, running wild (if not free) after six months of siege.

The dusty roadside is lined here and there with dots of blue chicory, long stems stretching up tenaciously towards the sky. A flock of chaffinches, startled by their appearance, burst in flight. His spy, Angel, seems to have melted away into the group, perhaps prefering to operate in her usual mode when her targets don’t know she’s there. It is tempting to forget the circumstances and enjoy the moment.

But Charles is too pragmatic, hardened by bitter experience underlined by recent events, to let this lapse in Lehnsherr’s attention (Angel aside) go to waste.

In the first walking break, he looks around at the stragglers in the second half of the party for promising targets of some reconnaissance of his own. Just ahead and to his left are two burly men engaged in animated discussion. Inching subtly closer, he’s disappointed but not surprised to find that they’re speaking Danish. He has so little of the language, certainly not enough to make reliable sense of their discussion, but at the least perhaps listening might improve his facility. He listens amongst the glottal phrases for repeated sounds he might begin to decipher.

“It’s a blunt-tongued language, isn’t it?” a warm voice addresses Charles from slightly behind.

He starts and turns his body in the direction of the sound—as pleased to hear the softer tones of Saxon as he is startled at the sudden intrusion—to find another rider approaching on his right.

He’s a young man, a little younger than Charles from appearances, and clothed in unusual attire. A flat sort of cap, fashioned from a vibrant dark red material, adorns his head. His tunic, where it peeks through his furs, is woven of rich fabric: not over-ornamented, but of a quality far surpassing the coarse weaves and eclectic dress of the surrounding men. He carries himself with a cool confidence, perched lightly on his saddle, relaxed and much more poised than any other of Lehnsherr’s men.

Charles pulls gently at the reins, slowing his horse’s pace to allow the other man to draw even with him.

Even as he takes him in, the clothing stirs a memory at the back of his mind of a childhood long ago; Muslim traders at the Norman court. The memory is an old one; Sebastian’s kingdom was an insular one and didn’t get on with outsiders, let alone cultured guests from the learned centres of the world.

“Forgive me for startling you, Your Highness,” the man says. Despite Charles’ deliberate choice to leave his circlet behind at the tent, it seems that Lehnsherr’s scene in the banquet hall the other night has left him no chance of anonymity.

“That’s quite alright. Though, you seem to have me at a disadvantage.”

“The name’s Armando, sir.”

“Armando.” He says, rolling the name around in his mouth. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” It's the second time today he’s offered these words, but he finds he can be more sincere with them when not faced with a spy. “And what is your role here?” He’s a figure somewhat misplaced among the rough-and-tumble Danes.

“I’m a physician. Born in Cordoba, and trained in Alexandria.”

A frisson of excitement runs through Charles at this announcement. “You speak Saxon very well for an Andalusian. Better than myself, and I’ve been speaking it almost since birth.”

“Thank you. Once I had the first few, the next languages came easily enough.” He switches into Norman for the second part of explanation to demonstrate.

“How many others do you speak?”

“Fluently? I’d say seven--maybe eight.” He cracks a broad, warm smile at Charles’ astonishment. “What can I say? I’m adaptive.”

Mindful of his spy close at hand, Charles yet can’t hide his delight to be in the company of a fellow seeker in the pursuit of knowledge, one with personal experience of the madrasas of the learned world at that. Despite this, he tries to rein himself in before his enthusiasm overwhelms his caution. After all, no matter how much he may seem a kindred spirit, he doesn’t know Armando nor his agenda. And, after seeing firsthand the danger that lurks in the camp, he’d be a fool to count himself safe.

They settle into a comfortable rhythm. It’s in the next walking break that Charles, between probing questions about the scientific and medical developments out of Baghdad, catches sight of a head above the crowd. His heart stutters, and he almost jerks on the reins impulsively. Riding up at the front, near Lehnsherr, but a bit off to the side. He’s easy to spot, rising nearly head-and-shoulders above the men surrounding him, stature and bearskin robe unmistakable.

“Armando, what can you tell me about that man?”

Armando follows his gaze to the front of the party, and when he sees the man to whom Charles refers seems to hesitate.

“He goes by the name of Sabretooth. He leads one of the strongest factions among the Danish warriors.” He pauses so long that Charles thinks he might have to prompt again, before continuing. “He and his supporters are known for their unyielding savagery in battle. I’ve only ever seen the aftermath.” Armando looks towards the riders at the front, squinting into the midday sun at the outline of the man in question. His words seem improbably incongruous in the brightness of the day. “Going into battle they consume a potion to free them of inhibitions and drive away all traces of remorse. Many of his followers file their teeth, supposedly to more easily rend the flesh of their enemies. Except Sabretooth himself who they say likes the challenge of a duller edge.”

Charles masks his disquiet with a wry remark. “No doubt a firm favourite of his Grace.” He had heard tell of such stories, whispers of viking cannibals, but had always assumed them to be over-inflations of reality.

“You’re wrong about that, actually.”

He looks back over, surprised.

“I have the sense—mind you, this is just my perception—that His Grace dislikes him very much.”

Charles thinks on this. Armando’s explanation would seem to square with the disagreement he witnessed back at the camp. Furthermore, the man—Sabretooth—seems prone to unpredictable violence, of a sort that might irk someone as careful and controlled as Lehnsherr. And yet—

“If that's the case, why invite him on such a party?

Armando takes a moment to respond, looking between the two riders up ahead. “There’s a common saying in Alexandria. It translates roughly to: a wise man holds his enemies close to his breast but far from his heart.”

Charles nods in agreement as he notes the appropriateness of it, thinking of the justification he had used to convince Lehnsherr to take him along even as he once again reconfigures his knowledge of the man. He, too, is an enemy Lehnsherr has held close. But before he can take the train of thought much further, the low blast of a horn signals the return to a canter, and it’s lost in the clatter of advancing hooves.

…

In the late afternoon, the first sign of smoke on the horizon alerts them. It curls above the treetops a little ways off the road. Too dense and heavy to be from a cooking fire.

The nearby homestead is set back from the road, but after the party halts at another horn blast a few riders break away from the pack in its direction. Charles pulls his horse past the crowd of remaining men and follows after them.

It’s a desolate scene. What was formerly a cottage now smouldering ashes but for the charred edges of a door frame still standing. The field of crops outside is churned up and scattered. Crushed stalks of barley that were trodden under horses’ hooves are beaten into the mud. A handful of slaughtered animals lie along the path. But what is most evident is the woman crouched in front of the remains of the house, keening in grief. Her ragged dress is torn, at her side a small child with a soot in their hair and clothes.

Lehnsherr has already dismounted, handed off his reins to another rider in order to survey the scene. Charles follows suit without a thought, and once he gets closer, it unfolds before him tragic inevitability.

He sees the dead man lying a few feet away from the woman and child, his grotesquely splayed body telling the story of his violent end. Then, clutched in the woman’s arms, a boy. A mere child, perhaps thirteen summers. His small eyes are closed almost peacefully, his forehead smeared with clotted blood.

Armando, who has followed Charles from the road, is quick to be rallied to aid.

Insensible in grief, the woman seems to barely register their presence as they cautiously approach. The young child, likely too small to comprehend the events that have taken place, tugs on her dress to get her attention, until she at last looks up at them. Her gaze is empty as one beyond reach, already crossed over to the next world.

It strikes Charles deeply, who freezes, feeling her disconnection mirrored in his own. Dissociation is a strategy he’s used to make himself hard, hiding his emotions in a fortress to protect them from a scene that has and will continue to play out countless times across the countryside. Recognizing it now in this woman, he’s struck by its haunting unnaturalness, the hollowness it invokes.

Armando, who had gently nudged the woman aside to conduct an examination, looks up and shakes his head.

The young child shrieks suddenly, drawing back and cowering behind their mother, who, past caring, doesn’t noticeably react. The cause is soon clear: having finished attentively examining the scene and damage, Lehnsherr is making his way over. To his credit, in response to the child’s dismay he slows his approach and spreads his hands wide in the universal symbol of non-aggression. It’s the only reason that Charles makes no move to stop him as he nears the woman and child, and crouches down.

Charles watches as he starts a conversation in Saxon, gently asking a question or two. He thinks he hears Lehnsherr quietly mutter a few words following the woman’s stilted responses. Then the man pulls an aged leather drawstring pouch from somewhere on his person, and produces several small, glinting coins which he hands to the woman.

A weregild.

Blood price for so much death and evil, paid for with some mere pieces of metal. He rails internally at his own impotence, safe behind a palace wall while people are suffering; dying. And at the authors of the violence, as Lehnsherr’s actions here have surely confirmed, the very men he rides with.

He’s overwhelmed by a helpless rage that washes over him like a tide.

“A few coins” the words come out flat, subdued. “Do you think they can repair the loss of a husband, bring back her child?” It’s an accusation but empty, anger deserting him as quickly as it arrived for a dull hopelessness.

Lehnsherr turns to him, delayed. His gaze is a bit distant, as though he’d forgotten Charles was there.

“It will bring them food,” he says levelly, “buy them shelter for the winter. Nothing can bring back the dead.”

Charles stands there for an indeterminable span of time, consumed by the endless cruelties of men. By this tangible reminder of the pain caused and lives lost to men—no, not men, beasts, seeking only personal glory, an enrichment of power.

“You generals and your wars,” he says coldly and turns away, the smoke still stinging in his eyes.

#cherik #viking au #Charles Xavier #Erik Lehnsherr #x-men #subtle a/b/o #cherik fic #brawlingdiscontent #twtbog #encomium carolis regis

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lunarianillusion · 3 years

Text

A change in fate

authors note: Sorry this chapter took a while, writers block is a pain and school takes a lot of time. Still I hope you enjoy this chapter and this story is now also on archive of our own under the same name. Now on with the story.

a maribat fanfic

Chapter 07

Marinette had been greatly relieved when Mist had returned so quickly and seemingly having succeeded in their mission. The miracle box safely tucked in their tail, a ball of memories between the leopard’s jaws and Wayzz sitting upon their silvery head. A small smile graced her lips at the sight.

But the small moment of joy had been shattered when a. unknown presence made themselves known. How had she not noticed them, she was the true holder of the miraculous of emotions, she could feel everyone’s emotions within a six-mile radius clearly. Even if she could not on a person’s scent, she should have been able to sense his emotions long before they made themselves known. So, how had she not been able to sense them following her guardian.

In a quick and flowing motion Royal shifted into her battle stance. Her fan at the ready in one hand miracle box in the other, Mist had her claws out and growled from deep in their throat and Wayzz nuzzled into the female’s neck hiding away from the possible danger. All their eyes focussed on the figure that now slipped out of the shadows.

To a certain degree the wielder of the peafowl was relieved that the intruder was neither Chat Noir nor her replacement. That however did not rule out the possibility that this was another akuma, albeit a better dressed one. The male wore upon a quick glance a near skin-tight suit made out of a reinforced material she could not quite place. His main colors consisted of red and black with a golden yellow coloring for his utility belts, that sat on his waist and crossed over his chest. Overall a decent ensemble, definitely better than what some akumas wore. The only things that really did not sit well with her was the length of the cape and that bloody cowl!

The male raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and moved his head to bear his throat. “I am not here to fight you, Blue Royal,” the stranger stated calmly. “Or should I refer to you by your old identity, Ladybug.”

The blue clad hero went absolutely rigid at this comment as did her companions. How? How did he find out?

Seeming able to read her body language he went on to give her a simple explanation on how he got to this revelation. He told her about how he had been there when the last akuma attacked and had made the connection due to her mannerisms around the so-called heroes and her overall combat experience. For not even someone trained in any form of martial arts, no matter how long they may have trained, would be able to pull of what she did in that little of time without real life experience. And from her reaction he could tell that his theory was correct. Great so she ratted herself out, well done Marinette.

“Who are you?” she more demanded then asked.

“I go by Red Robin and I was formerly known as Robin and protégé of the Batman of Gotham. I have come to Paris to offer you my help in taking Hawkmoth down,” Red Robin told her, while looking straight at the female before him. Though his eyes were covert by the cowl’s white lenses, Mari swore their eyes were locked.

“And how am I to be certain that you are not one of His akumas or accomplices?” The blue clad girl asked skeptically with a cold tone her eyes narrowed into a glare. The tension in the air could almost be touchable as the two continued their stare of.

Red Robin nodded at her reasoning, seeming to understand her suspicions and following cautios manner. “Understandable concerns. Though I doubt I shall be able to put your worries to rest, with just my words. But quite a few people have made my existence public to the world. I hope that when you have seen that you can be assured that I am here to help,” He spoke calmly as he lowered his hands.

“Not very secretive of you to become known to the public, protégé of the Bat,” Royal could not help to comment. It gained a small chuckle from the male before her. “Well the existence of the League is not really a secret either, hence why I were the cowl,” He bantered back. Marinette could not help her lip twitching upward even as she kept her look skeptical. For her nerves were not put to rest.

Since she could not sense his emotions, he must have a strong control over them, she focused her connection to miraculous to look into his soul. It was in correlation with a trick that Duusu had been telling her about during training. How when transformed a true soul can look through the eyes of their kwami and gain the ability to see someone’s soul. It was however a very exhausting technique and she would most likely have a massive headache in the morning, but it was a small price to pay to see if he was a threat.

The only thing giving away her use of this skill was the thin glowing ring of silver surrounding her pupil.

His souls held several shades of blue implying to someone who was loyal and strong of mind. But the colors were dull and several cracks could be seen in the core of his soul and were festering in a malicious black veins. While black could been seen as a color of mystery, which would fit with his secret ID, the way the veins seemed to be invading re-laid to him being hurt greatly. From Blue Marinette could tell though was that the vigilantly infront of her was being sincere to her at the moment. Though it took a second as she got distracted by the sight of his soul.

Still best to play save and do a background check on this ‘protégé of the Batman’ when she got back to her room. “If I were to believe you and you truly are here to help end the reign pf Hawkmoth. How would you be able to help me?” The female asked firmly as she called off the leopard beside her.

“Do not assume me to being rude, but even though you are capable the akuma’s in battle. Far better then your stand in or the mangy cat. I have come to surmise that detective work is not your forte,” Red Robin answered as he took to leaning on the railing. “I was trained in the fields of being a detective, combat and stealth by one of the best that I know of. I believe if we combine both our skills, we will be able to finally to put the plague that Paris is under to rest,” he finished.

He was not wrong she did need help in that department. She could deal with the combat part more easily now than in years past, having learned from experience. Though she had also collected some leads on the possible identity of Hawkbitch, she was unsure on how to follow up on said leads. If he truly was trained by the Bat of Gotham, someone who was considered the number one detective, he would definitely be a useful asset to the mission.

She only had one question left.

“Why now?” The question seemed to startle the vigilante before. The raw emotion in her voice a reflection of her young thirteen-year-old self, sounding so tired and confused. “I sent a message to the league years ago. Why is their only now a response?”

The male’s expression turned soft at her tone of voice and seeming to understand why she would ask this. “I have no excuse to the sheer incompetence of the one who thought your call of distress was nothing more than a prank. The suffering and deaths of the people of Paris is not something to be brushed off as a prank,” he seethed in anger a small flicker of emotion slipping from his control. Telling the blue clad hero of his sincerity.

A beeping sound of the peafowl wielders miraculous rang through the air. Six minutes.

“I get the feeling that our time is limited so I shall get to the point. Will you give us working together a chance?” And that was the question wasn’t it. Could she trust him to help her?

No, she could not, but she needed someone who could dig deep. And if the Bat had trained him his skills in what he mentioned prior would definitely of use to the cause. Still, he was an unknown with strong control of his emotions and even by looking at his soul, she was able to get more information on the male, she did not feel that she had a good read on him. So, this would be a gamble on her part. She needed a second opinion.

Turning her head, she looked at the little turtle god on her shoulder. For while she and Fu had not always had been able to see eye to eye, Wayzz has always been there to come to some sort of compromise. The little kwami always staying level-headed when there was a whirlwind around him and for that she was grateful. So, she knew she could trust him with being her second voice. The kwami and omega duo locked eyes into a silent conversation as Mist kept watch over the anomaly.

The omega’s eyes soon locked back on the vigilante’s masked once, her decision made. Marinette only hoped she would not come to regret this in the future.

“We will meet to compare notes and come to a full partnership arrangement on Wednesday at eleven p.m. at the arc de triomphe. Should there be an akuma attack before that time I want you to focus on evacuating the civilians away from danger. Try not to get spotted by Chat or LB for I belief we both agree they are not to be trusted,” the peafowl wielder informed the male of her decision. She barely made out the smallest amount of tension leaving his shoulders as Red nodded his head in agreement.

“To that we can most certainly agree,” Red Robin voiced. “Then we shall leave further questions to each other for Wednesday.”

The silence that followed his statement gave the vigilante the impression that it was time to leave. However, as he was about to take of the hero Paris called for his attention once more. Turning back to the blue clad female he motioned for her to continue. “Can you make certain no other heroes come to Paris,” her command gained her a curios tilt of the other humans head, question implied but not voiced.

“When I started being a hero, I thought the JL would be able to help, but after some research of the battle tactics they would only bring more problems than actually solve. For most league heroes seem to rely on an emotion power boost,” Red nodded along with her statement gears starting to turn. “And with Hawkmoth feeding on those emotions would make them a liability.”

“Agreed, I for one do not want to fight a mind controlled and upgraded superman,” The cowled male answered giving her some assurance that he would make sure the league would not interfere with Paris.

Being assured things would be stable until they could talk things out in two days, the two bid each other goodnight.

As Red Robin took off into the night Blue Royal took one more look at his soul, but instead of looking at his core she observed the spectral dragon that was coiling around his soul. It was the mark of a true soul. Which led to the question: Was that Timothy?

The nudge of the leopard beside her snapped Marinette out of her head and back to reality. Swiftly she and her companions took off to her nest. She had a lot to think about, to plan for and to do and the night was not getting any younger.

taglist: @moonlightstar64 @iloontjeboontje @mickylikesstuff@myazael @scribblinggraveyard @incredulous-reader@mewwitch@woe-is-me0 @fan-written @coolspidermanmusicflower@heretopasstimebi @jjmjjktth @ichigorose@cmouse @nyx-in-line@chocolatecatstheron @bookgirl14 @toodaloo-kangaroo@iglowinggemma28 @itsmeevie01

#maribat #timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #tim drake #red robin #kwami swap #miraculous ladybug

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uhthor · 3 years

Note

I’m relatively new to the marvel fandom, I literally spent a week binge watching everything on vacation recently. I just found out about the “winteriron” tony/bucky ship, and wrote about it in the tags on a post I reblogged that was about surprising things you learned once you joined a fandom. I just said I didn’t like it, and didn’t see what fans saw in it. Since ya know, tony relentlessly tried to kill bucky even though he knew he was brainwashed. The next day I got 20 anons telling me I didn’t have a right to criticize just because I didn’t like it. Half were from one person sending me death threats if I ever dared shame tony stark again, that he’s gone through so much trauma and is mistreated and betrayed by everyone he meets. They also said I was babying bucky, that he’s a grown man and is big enough to understand the sheer grief tony was processing as he tried to murder him. They said I should get over it too, that I’m a toxic stucky apologist. I’d never said a word about stucky on my blog before, but now I am a stucky shipper since I looked more into it because of their death threats. I checked my followers that day and checked them again a week later. 13 tony-stan blogs unfollowed me

anon this made my heart break for you. i’m so sorry this happened.

i’ll tell you this now, i’m anti tony as fuck. if you follow me and want to unfollow because of that, please feel free and unobliged to staying. i will not have a single opinion on it! it’s your blog! you can do what you want. it literally is nobody’s business at all but yours.

it doesn’t surprise me that tony fans came for you the way they did because some of them are fucking psycho and don’t know how to handle people not liking their precious tony and having opinions of their own. it’s ridiculous really because if anyone ever disliked anyone i liked, i literally wouldn’t give a fuck. like i said, it’s NONE of my business, much like it was none of their business to speak to you the way they did and treat you that way. again, i’m so sorry.

winteriron is another ship i avidly dislike for all the reasons you suggested and i literally can’t believe people tried to excuse it the way they did. i absolutely agree with you, it’s a horrendous ship and in no way shape or form would i ever forgive tony for trying to murder me if i was bucky. the ship doesn’t work, especially not for reasons of bucky understanding the grief tony has been through. fuck off? my god that’s ridiculous. people baby TONY if anything, acting like he’s the only character in the mcu who has ever suffered. absolutely ridiculous when thor exists imo lmfao

i’m so sorry you got death threats and such horrific messages because you’re absolutely not deserving of them. please know you’re wonderful and deserve to be here as much as everyone else does. i’m sending you so much love! if you’d like to message off anon, i am more than happy to chat, because you sound like someone with exactly the same opinions as me! (stucky ftw! i don’t understand what the fuck a toxic stucky apologist is? it’s literally a ship... my god. it’s not that deep whatsoever.)

and if you got 13 tony stans unfollowing you for expressing your opinion about a ship i will GLADLY call stupid and nonsensical, then fuck them. you’re better off without them <3

#liv answers #anonymous #this is fucked up honestly. imagine attacking someone this viciously for their opinion on a SHIP #are you fucking joking???#tony stans are fucking HORRENDOUS #i am so glad i never associated myself with them EVER #on god they are the worst. imagine sending people death threats because they don’t like a character #especially to someone who just joined the fandom #GROW UP!!!!!!!!!#these people MUST be 12 #it would just make you not want to be here at all for fuck sake #grow up. seriously grow the fuck up #and if anyone has issues with this with me #come the fuck at me #because i won’t hold back. i will rip you a new asshole #tell me to k!ll myself over tony fucking stark i dare you. i will send you into the stratosphere #anti winteriron #anti tony stark #anti tony stans

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fixxofvixx · 3 years

Text

Stay With Me - Demon Leo AU - Chapter 29

Hello my beautiful people! I hope you are all well and healthy. I always have you all in my thoughts and I wish you the best. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Please let me know what you think. Depends on who creeps out of my brain next, I should have another update soon!

Enjoy!

😈😈😈😈😈😈

"I should have known you'd help those humans." You looked around Leo and saw a woman standing there. She was elegantly tall. Her long legs were surrounded by a nearly sheer dress and only covered the important areas. Beautiful long hair the color of the moon cascaded down her back. Her arms were crossed over her more-than-adequate chest. She looked at you and then focused on the feather you wore in your hair. After she realized what it was, she leveled you with a glare that would have caused you to hide in a corner if Leo wasn't holding you.

"What are you doing here, Cresenda? Shouldn't you be at home taking care of that child you keep trying to convince everyone is mine?"

-----------------------

"You don't need to worry about me. You should be more concerned with yourself and your little plaything there." She waved her hand towards you but it was far from friendly.

You felt Leo's hold on you tighten for a moment before he relaxed slightly.

"Leave, Cresenda, you aren't welcome here."

"Your mother invited me. She said you needed some help with some pesky humans." She moved close but Leo didn't budge. He didn't want her to have the upper hand. Black smoke swirled around your feet and you wanted to somehow bury yourself in it.

"I need nothing you have to offer. My mother has no right over anything I do. She also has no power here. This village, the forest, and everyone in it is in my domain."

"Pathetic, wasting your time on humans! Don't try to delude yourself that you are some sort of hero. Your powers are nothing compared to your father's. You have to answer to him and you know he's always favored me." Cresenda sent a look your way that was a mix of pride and superiority.

"That may well be….if he was alive."

"He's dead?! What the hell happened?!"

"I killed him. Now leave and I won't do the same to you." Leo teleported and you were back inside the house.

"Leo…"

"Not yet." He was mad. He didn't release for a moment and took a deep breath. Leo pulled away from you but still kept his hand attached to yours. He went to the door and let out a shrill whistle.

The wolves were there almost instantly. They gathered around looking just as serious as Leo. He motioned for you to stay inside as he walked out to talk to the pack. You noticed Danté breaking from the pack to sit at attention just in front of the door after he bowed his head to you.

"There is a she-demon that will try to enter the forest. She shouldn't be able to get past the barrier burnished does, do not try to fight her. She knows she is not welcome here but she will try nonetheless. If you see her, alert me immediately. The same goes for my mother. Let the other animals in the forest know."

The wolves bowed and dispersed. Danté stood and looked up at me.

*Please call upon me if you need my assistance, My Lady.*

"I will," you smiled at the young wolf, "but please just call me Y/N."

*Of course, My Lady.*

You sent him a playful glare as he trotted off to catch up with his pack.

Once Leo was back in the house, you could see how stressed out he looked. His face was stone and for a moment you didn't know how to approach him.

He took one look at you and his face relaxed and he reached for you. He saw the hesitation in your expression and the worry you held for him.

"I'm okay. But I would be even better if you hugged me."

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him.

"Ah….much better."

"You're a hopeless flirt, you know that?"

"Sure, I do. I also know that you like it."

*Did I miss something? The animals in the forest are on edge. What did you do now, demon?* Sibena walked in the front door, looking around.

Leo used his best scowl on her but she ignored him.

"Be nice, both of you." You playfully hit Leo's arm and then explained the situation to Sibena.

*That wreck of a she-demon always causes trouble. When she couldn't bed this demon she went after my master. He rejected her also so she tried to kill me in retaliation. My master caught her and almost turned her to dust if his father hadn't intervened.*

"Why did your father like her so much?"

"She is the daughter of an old flame he was head over heels with before the marriage was arranged with my mother."

"Arranged marriage?! They still do that?"

"This was a few hundred years ago, sweetheart. It's pretty much non-existent now. But I will admit that my father wanted to arrange a marriage with Cresenda and I. When I refused, she started the whole thing with her son being mine. That was about 6 or 7 years ago."

*As much as it pains me to do so, I will confirm what the demon has stated. Everyone in the demon world knows he never touched her. No one knows who the father is.*

Leo looked at Sibena, shocked that she sided with him.

"So if everyone knows, then why try to convince everyone? Even your mother supported the idea."

"I believe they're trying to convince you. My mother hates humans and Cresenda just follows what my mother wants. But that still leaves the question as to why mother sought us out after she was released. She never cared much before. She says she didn't know our father was dead but I don't really believe that. His death is the only thing that could have released her."

"So does she--"

"CAAH!!"

You jumped a good foot into the air and Sibena went on alert when you heard the noise. Looking to the door you noticed the largest black bird you had ever seen. It wasn't any bird you had seen before. It looked like a cross between a raven and an owl. Its head was as big as Sibena and its beak looked razor sharp. Its eyes were as red as fire and its claws looked perfect for tearing into flesh.

"It's okay, it's one of Ravi's messengers. He wants us to pay a visit."

"Both of us? Can I even go down there?"

"Ravi can allow it for a while. Sibena, you as well. Hakyeon would like to see you."

Sibena was instantly alert and swished her tail and for a moment she looked like an excited kitten. When she realized what she'd done she sat down and raised her head high.

*If my master commands it…*

Leo pulled you towards the large bird but you hesitated. The closer you got, the larger the bird seemed to get.

"He can't hurt you, Ravi would kill him. He can transport us all to the Underworld. Just hold on to him. Normally I could just teleport but with humans and a lynx….we need a little help."

You nodded and reached out to the bird. Its big head bowed and you hesitated. When you realized it was just saying hello you smiled. You placed your hand on the side of its neck and was surprised how soft it was. Leo placed his hands on your waist and lifted you up to sit on the bird. You thought it would protest but it seemed completely at ease.

"I'm not sure he would be willing to give up a feather." Leo chuckled, assuming you were thinking of that.

"That's alright, I'm pretty picky about the feathers I collect anyway." You smiled at him and winked.

"Don't look at me like that or I'll cancel this trip and take you upstairs." Leo's eyes brightened with the threat and you suddenly felt warm all over. You cleared your throat and broke eye contact with him.

"Let's go, Ravi is probably waiting."

*Yes, please, before I throw up.*

As soon as Leo reached up to touch the bird, everything went dark. You felt a rush of wind mixed with heat and then cold. You wanted to reach out for Leo but you couldn't move. You buried your hands in the bird's feathers and prayed you wouldn't fall off. It felt like you were moving in a whirlwind but completely frozen at the same time.

After a few seconds, your vision returned and you were outside the familiar sight of Ravi's front door. A wave of dizziness suddenly hit you and you swayed.

"Easy," Leo's hands came up and pulled you off the bird. You leaned on him as his arms came around your back to steady you, "it takes a little getting used to."

"Sorry about that," Ravi came out of the door and smiled, "Strix isn't known for being gentle. But he's powerful and quick. It was the best method I had of bringing you down here without causing too much damage."

"I'm alright." You turned to the bird and patted its neck. "Thank you for the ride, Strix."

The bird leaned forward and touched his large head to yours.

"Watch out brother, Strix might give you some competition."

You laughed and turned to Ravi.

"As much as I think Strix is beautiful, I'm not sure how much competition a bird would be to Leo."

A large puff of smoke caused you to jump and you turned to see a tall man standing where Strix once stood. He was young but had years of wisdom embedded in his still red eyes. Long black hair flowed around him and his clothing matched the darkness. His attire suggested that he had been around during ancient times, his robes flowing around him. He was strikingly beautiful but in a "I bring destruction" sort of way.

"I'm not always a bird, milady. And you are welcome to ride on me anytime." The man bowed and took your hand. Your jaw dropped at his words and you blushed a little. He started to kiss the back of your hand but Leo was faster. He grabbed your hand and pulled you to his side.

"Brother…..how fond are you of this….bird? My wolves have been asking for a good snack." Black smoke lifted from the floor and you could see Leo's hair turn in all directions. You almost smiled at his obvious show of jealousy but held it in.

"Strix...you should know better. You're still on thin ice and I haven't ended your probation."

*This bird reeks of pheromones. He wants more than what he is saying.* Sibena let out an annoyed chuff and settled into an attack position.

"I apologize, miss, if I have offended you." He bowed once more but you caught the half-smile on his face before it disappeared. He wasn't sorry at all.

"Uh….maybe we should go inside before a war breaks out? I don't feel like bloodshed today." Ken came around and blocked Leo's vision from Strix. Taking the opportunity, you grabbed Leo's hand and pulled.

"Let's go. The sooner we get back, the sooner we can be alone." You leaned up to whisper in his ear and you saw it twitch. He seemed to think over what you'd said for a moment and then looked down at you with the most sinful look you had seen yet.

"Ravi, what did you want to see us about?" Leo never broke eye contact with you while he was talking. The look in his eyes made you feel as if you were completely exposed and you swallowed hard. He saw your dilemma and smiled, knowing what you were thinking.

"Come in and I'll explain."

Leo let out a short sigh and then turned to Ravi. He nodded and pulled you along behind him. You were almost to the door when you heard running footsteps. You looked to your right and saw Hakyeon coming down the road.

"Sibena!" The lynx immediately took off and ran to Hakyeon. Hakyeon sat on the ground and held out his arms like a child. Sibena ran full speed at him and knocked him to the ground. She nuzzled his face like a puppy that had just found its master. Tears threatened your eyes when you realized just how much they had missed each other.

Leo tugged on your hand and motioned for you to follow him and let Hakyeon and Sibena have a moment.

Once inside you were greeted by Ravi's wife.

You smiled and started towards her. Leo stopped you and leaned down to your ear.

"If you have any questions about what you were thinking about earlier, you can ask her."

You turned to Leo, confused at what he was talking about. He put his hand on the back of your neck and smiled.

*She's pregnant. Weren't you concerned about whether we could have children?*

You gasped at his blunt words and what he was insinuating.

"Get away from me." You pushed him toward his brothers as he laughed.

With red cheeks, you sat down beside her and smiled.

"Here, have some tea."

"Thank you….my goodness, I don't even know your name. I'm sorry, I should have asked before!"

"That's alright. I don't even know my name."

"What do you mean?"

"When I agreed to live here with Ravi, I had to give up my mortal self. That included letting go of my name, family, everything. I have memories but no identity. He's not allowed to tell me either."

You stared at her, unsure what to say.

"Don't worry about it. I don't mind. He did tell me that my name meant "love" so he just calls me that."

You smiled, thinking about how sweet their relationship was. You silently thanked the powers that be that these demon brothers didn't turn out like their parents.

"What was the reason we needed to come down here, Ravi?" You turned to the man currently sending lovey-dovey looks at his wife.

"We need to do something about our mother." Ravi turned to you and then to his brothers.

"Agreed but did something happen?"

"She's been turning the Underworld upside down looking for something. As soon as we got her down here, she didn't even look for Hakyeon. She immediately went to the armory and started looking through there."

"Has she tried to contact our father?"

You snapped your attention to Leo and gasped.

"He's not dead?!"

#demon leo #vixx fic #taekwoon au #leo au #vixx au #taekwoon fic

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pasteljeon · 4 years

Text

handcrafted | heartbeat 1

When you put out a roommates ad for your newly purchased house, the only requirement you set out had been cleanliness.

The last thing you’d expected was for the 7 most eligible bachelors of your university to come calling.

Throw in school, crazy fan girls and the most sought for men suddenly chasing after you with heart eyes, comes a college experience of a lifetime.

Would it be so wrong to want them all?

1: handcrafted

summary | they needed a place to stay. You needed money. You are so fucking screwed. They want you to screw them instead.

series index.

“I’m sorry,” comes a high-pitched, exasperated whine for the umpteenth time.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you say, suitcase dropping unceremoniously onto the gravel floor with a sad thud. You stare up at the building with dread, a knot forming in your stomach. Now that you think of it, it does seem to loom overhead rather ominously. And you liked the design so much, too.

“You’re telling me that I just dropped half a million into a house and now I have no one to room with and no way to pay off my mortgage?”

“It was last minute,” Ahri tries to explain feebly, but you close your eyes.

“So let me get this straight,” you say slowly, sucking in a long breath, “All seven of you magically got offered the very same jobs you have right now … in the same city?”

“…Yes?” She coughs. “Same company, just a different branch. And, uh, just not this city.”

Silence.

You tap your foot impatiently.

“___?” You can already imagine the way your best friend is cringing, voice meek as she asks mildly, “Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” you say through gritted teeth as you drag your luggage to the front.

With the autumn leaves stirring in your wake, every step is heavy and dredged with defeat as you make your way to the coffee shop on campus.

“I’m sure there are still plenty of people looking for rent,” Ahri says sympathetically, rubbing your shoulder as you slump over the table.

“How am I going to find seven people to fill the spaces before the semester starts?” You wail, banging your head against the glass. “Classes start in a week and I need people now so I can pay the obnoxiously inflated mortgage.”

“Are you sure—” Jisoo starts, but you throw up a hand instantly. “Never gonna go down that alley. If I have to, I’ll sell the house and live on the streets. Since you’re all basically abandoning me anyway.”

“Not all of us,” Ryujin reminds you as she takes a seat, sliding your signature drink across.

“Yeah, just 90% of us,” Ahri supplies helpfully. You glare at her playfully as you sit up, taking a tentative sip from the cup. Letting out a sigh, you lean back into your seat.

“No, but in all seriousness. How am I going to find replacement roommates in time?” You trace the lid absently, propping your chin up with the other hand.

“We still have a week before we leave for our co-op terms. We can help you out until then. We’ll find people,” Jisoo promises. She’s already pulled out her phone, tapping away at the multitude of chats she’s in to put out word for you.

“I’ll ask a friend to make a mock up of an ad,” Ryujin offers. Ahri nods vigorously.

“Okay. Thanks guys, you’re the realest,” you say gratefully. Perhaps all hope is not yet lost, you conclude rather miserably.

Despite the collective efforts of all your braincells, skills and networking circles pooled together, the week is drawing to a close. Every decline is for the same reason: it’s just too late.

Between your unpacking, shopping, arranging furniture and rearranging décor (with the help of Dara, the interior design major, of course), suddenly it’s Thursday and you’re looking pretty fucking doomed.

“How is it everything fell through so fast?”

“Mhmm. You tell me,” you say absentmindedly as you straighten a painting.

You can feel Dara’s amusement as she readjusts the frame you were fiddling with. “Stop touching. It’s fine.”

“It’s crooked,” you protest.

“You know, that reminds me,” she says thoughtfully as she steps back. “Jiyong’s been working on his new album, and there’s these new singers he’s scouted out. It might be a long shot since classes are about to start, but he’s talked about how much they complain about their residence. I can ask if they’re still up to moving.”

“Yes, please,” you nod. “It honestly doesn’t matter anymore. I just need money. I don’t even know why this was a good idea in the first place.”

“It was a good idea. When we were all going to be here,” Dara amends.

You exhale. “Fuck me in the ass.”

“Uh … who are you?” You blink, cocking your head to the side curiously.

There’s a … person standing at your door, awkwardly gripping a suspiciously familiar flyer. He’s … someone you’ve never spoken to before. He’s grown his hair out this summer, brushing away the curls as they frame his big, doe eyes. The scar on his cheek is hidden by the makeshift ebony curtain. He’s clearly been busy, veins and muscles rippling under golden skin virtually straining to explode from that tight pair of black jeans he’s wearing.

You are not charmed. You are not charmed. You are not fucking charmed.

“Um … are you ___?”

You nod, waiting for an explanation. The bags in your hands are getting heavier with every passing second and you silently beg him to hurry it along before your arms snap clean off.

“M-my hyungs asked me to check you out,” he stutters.

A beat, and then –

“Ah! I-I mean check the place out, not you, that would be weird, why would I ever check you out,” he corrects quickly. You raise an eyebrow warily. The sheet crumples in his whitening fist.

“I-I mean I check you out all the time so that’s not really new, i-it’s just y-you have vacancy right,” he’s word-vomiting, cheeks ripening furiously and he looks like he’s about ready for the ground to swallow him up.

“We want to move in,” he practically screams. You recoil, the bags hitting your thigh painfully.

Huh.

This is … unexpected. Every time you’ve ever encountered him on campus, he’s never been so … clumsy. Is clumsy the right word to describe this?

“Oooookay,” you say. “Yeah, I can give you a tour and answer any questions you have, just let me unload first.”

“O-oh, I can take those for you,” he stumbles over to relieve you of your physical burden. He ducks his head, scores of pink still marring his expression as you unlock the door.

“Come in.”

“Sorry for the intrusion,” he says shyly, slipping off his sneakers and trailing behind you to set the groceries on the counter as you indicated.

You shrug off your jacket before rummaging in one of the bags to pull out a bottle of banana milk. His eyes light up instantly when you slide it over the counter to him.

“Thank you, noona!” He tears open the lid and gulps down the concoction eagerly.

Noona? You squint. Are you really older than him? You’ll have to check later.

“So will your … hyungs be joining us today, or would you guys like to book another time to come altogether?”

Just as he’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to reply, the doorbell rings.

“Dara,” you hiss into the phone, cupping the microphone close to you as you huddle in one of the upper floor bathrooms. “You didn’t tell me there were seven of them.”

“Huh? But wasn’t seven the exact number you needed?” She answers innocently.

“You said some and singers! None of them are singers or new! They’re the fucking guys from the Calvin Klein underwear ads and that one Gucci perfume commercial!”

“Technically, they are singers. A couple of them are composers and they all have really good voices. According to Jiyong anyway, no one else has had the privilege of hearing them,” she states.

“I’m going to die,” you say flatly. You’re pacing, practically wearing the new carpet you just bought. “I am going to die a horrible, horrible death. Fangirls will hunt me down, I’m going to get death threats and I’ll have to live in the shadows for the rest of my life. There are a lot of rich people here, and they’re going to hire hitmen and I’ll –”

“– Die a horrible death, yes, I heard the first time,” Dara cuts you off dryly.

Your eyes widen. “You knew!” You accuse. “How could you do this to me?!”

“___,” she sighs suddenly, sounding disappointed. “This was the best I could do, okay? It was the perfect opportunity. Look, just go downstairs, gauge their characters and all that jazz, and if you still think it’s not a good fit, just tell them that and keep looking. You’re not locked in on this.”

You rest your head on the wall. “… Yeah. Okay. True. Thanks a lot, Dara.”

“Of course. I always got your back. Let me know how things go and what you decide,” she reassures you.

“I will.”

You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, phone gripped tightly in your hand, before groaning aloud. Splashing water on your face and smoothing out your disgruntled locks, you make your way back to the living room.

It’s awkward. Oh fuck, it’s so awkward you think you’ll die of sheer awkwardness instead.

There are seven men smiling up at you, all crammed in the three sets of sofas you’d recently purchased. They have such long legs. One of them has really broad shoulders.

“I know you,” you say stupidly, pointing at the man with dimples. He waves.

“___,” he says pleasantly. “How has your summer been?”

“You were my TA,” you continue, finger quivering. You’re downright flabbergasted. “Isn’t there like a … like a rule or something against TAs moving in with previous students?”

“We never officially met,” he replies smoothly. Why the fuck is he still smiling?! This is so freaky. You can’t do this. Holy shit.

“In fact, the TAs for that course were never formally introduced. We only marked your exams in random groups, nothing more. I can’t say I’ve had the privilege of marking your work.”

Liar. You know he’s marked one of your essays. You can easily tell his thick strokes and thoughtful feedback scrawled in the margins apart from all the other cursive nonsense the others liked to write.

You move on. “You,” you say, examining the peculiar orange locks and disappearing eye smile. “You’re one of the dancers. You and … you,” the one next to him nods, his grin heart-shaped.

“You make music,” the one with mint hair and catlike eyes. What is with them and their rainbow styled colours? He shrugs noncommittally.

“Photos,” the one with a boxy beam. The camera looped around his neck was pretty self-explanatory, but you’ve seen him around.

“You … are old,” his plush lips instantly downturn.

“Excuse me?” He harrumphs. “Is that how you speak to your elders?” There’s no real bite to his tone, just a tinge of annoyance. The rest of the boys are hiding laughs.

“Didn’t you graduate a while ago?” You ask instead.

He uncrosses his arms, slumping. “… Yes,” he says guiltily. “I’m getting my Masters.”

“Hyung doesn’t like being called old,” the one still clutching the milk explains, mirth dancing in his eyes. “He’s old, but not obsolete. Not yet, anyway.”

“Shut it,” he snaps, pouting. He certainly doesn’t act old, you remark silently, stifling a giggle.

“We should do formal introductions,” the dimpled boy offers.

“My name is Kim Namjoon. I’m a Philosophy and History double major. I do TA for a couple courses.”

“Kim Taehyung! I like taking photos, so photography. Obviously. I’m thinking about picking up media arts or something on the side, though.”

“Jeon Jungkook. Graphic design and Photography.”

“Contemporary dance, Park Jimin.”

“Performing dance, Jung Hoseok! My stage name is J-Hope.”

“Music composition. Min Yoongi.”

“I’m Kim Seokjin, though you’ve probably already heard of me,” he smirks, puffing his chest out proudly. “Film and Acting.”

“Oh!” You say, nodding very seriously. “You were in that one fried chicken commercial, right?”

Seokjin stares, unimpressed even as the boys are falling into pieces beside him. “It was for the new Palisade.”

“Oh. They’re cool, too,” you agree. You don’t know much about cars.

“I’m ___. Do you guys want a tour?”

“So? Spill the beans!”

“On what?” You quirk an eyebrow as you flick through the menu. Ahri looks like she’s almost bouncing from her seat in excitement.

“Were they as handsome as they say?”

“What do people say about them, now?” The menu hasn’t changed, this restaurant is just as overpriced and basic as it’s been the past two years. You don’t even know why you bothered opening the damn thing. With a sigh, you toss it to the side.

“I heard Jimin looks like an angel when he sleeps. Rumour has it, once you’ve kissed Jin once, you can never go back. Have you seen his lips? God, they’re to die for,” Ahri moans.

You give her a look. “You’re kidding. And you believe that crap? They look like regular people. Albeit yes, handsome, really good looking people.”

“Hi, are you ready to order?” A soft, timid voice interrupts your gossip session.

“Jungkook,” you say, surprised. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Okay, fuck, you have to admit he looks so very delicious with that rumpled look of his, ruffled chestnut hair, the return of those killer black jeans, paired with a fitted black turtleneck. A red apron is tied around his unfairly thin waist.

“Ah,” he says, scratching his neck. Already reddening as he fiddles with the pad in his hand. “Um. I just started today, actually. I needed money … you know, for-for rent and stuff.”

“Oh no,” you say immediately, concern colouring your tone. “Was the rate too high? If it’s unaffordable for you, we can always figure something else out—”

“No, no!” Jungkook says hastily. “It’s not that. I was planning on getting another job anyway, regardless of where I ended up. I’d have to pay rent no matter where I lived.”

“Oh,” you nod. “In that case …”

Jungkook excuses himself as soon as your orders are scrawled down, still seemingly unable to meet your gaze for long.

“He’s just so cute,” Ahri swoons. You choke down the bile that threatens to hurl itself up from the mere sight of her exaggerated love struck expression. “Uh huh.”

“Okay, so what did you do? The tea, the tea,” she demands.

“There is no tea,” you throw your hands up. “I gave them the standard tour, copies of the lease to take home, but they said they wanted it so they signed them on the spot, paid the deposit and everything. It was super quick and they all just left right after. That’s it.”

“Wow, they must’ve been desperate,” she comments. “Though the house is really nice. It’s huge, totally worth the price you paid. I’m glad they came through, though. It would’ve been a death sentence to pay it all off yourself.”

“Yeah, especially since I don’t start my own co-op term till next year,” you grouch.

“Mhm. All that aside, it’s time you started living above that rock of yours,” Ahri says seriously. She pulls out her phone as the food arrives.

You push aside the trickle of disappointment that filters in when the waiter that delivers your respective meals isn’t Jungkook.

“Crash course on your hot new roommates,” she starts, passing the device to you. An unfamiliar YouTube page is opened to a video.

“Jung Hoseok and Park Jimin. Hoseok’s stage name is J-Hope, named after his sunny disposition. He has a YouTube series called Hope on the Street. Jimin runs it with him, and the two do all kinds of dance challenges and covers. They’re also the Co-Presidents of the school’s dance committee. They join the national competitions every year since they took over and have been winning ever since.”

You would think it would be a bit disconcerting seeing the two very diverse dance styles on two very different people on stage, but they don’t fight. They complement each other so brilliantly, it’s hard to tear your eyes away. You can’t decide who to watch, just sitting back to observe the entire frame.

“Jeon Jungkook and Kim Taehyung. They have a vlog series called House of Bangtan. Mostly just random shit with the other guys, but it’s super entertaining and hilarious. Like the kind of content you know is genuine and makes you willing to die just for a chance to be a part of it. That’s how you know the seven of them are really good friends despite the age gaps. They also do challenges and giveaways.”

You’re watching Jin lose a game of charades, and he looks like he’s about to blow a fuse. The camera shakes uncontrollably as Jungkook runs way from his hyung, who’s screaming bloody murder behind him, chasing with the rubber duck he used to cheat with. Sore loser, the youngest mouths to the camera with a grin.

“Jungkook also owns a personal channel called Golden Closet Films. Pretty self-explanatory, but he makes movie clips of stuff like Hoseok and Jimin practising for the showcase and the like. He used to be part of the varsity volleyball team, but had to give it up when he tore his Achilles’ heel. It was pretty devastating for the school, too, since he was one of the best players. Taehyung has an Instagram page full of pictures for his photography collection. They’re super aesthetic. He goes under Vante.”

You scroll through the page, and you can definitely see why he’s so sought for by students and so famous in the department. He has a wicked eye and thinks so vividly outside the box. You also vaguely remember Jungkook’s impromptu early retirement being a huge deal when it happened. You were never really caught up with the school’s news, more academic driven, but you had your share of intramural sports. You imagine ‘devastating’ is a rather underwhelming way of describing that kind of pain.

“Kim Seokjin, or Jin he likes to be called, is a Films major and he’s done a bunch of commercials and modelling gigs. He loves food though, and he has a cooking channel plus an Instagram page. He’s the campus Heartthrob. He’s had that title for over five years. I mean, who can blame him? Do you see the man? He’s fucking cut from the image of perfection!”

Yeah, okay. He does look fucking good. And his cooking looks amazing. You rub your mouth discreetly, making sure you’re not actually physically drooling. You have food right in front of you, for fuck’s sake!

“Min Yoongi, he’s actually the same age as Jin but started late. He used to be an underground rapper by the name of Gloss. Now he works at the studio here with Jiyong and Slow Rabbit. Rumour has it he has a composing deal lined up with BigHit when he graduates. He goes by Suga now. He has a Soundcloud for distributing his self-composed music. I heard he also raps, but no one knows his stage name for that.”

This man is talented. His lyricism is fucking beautiful. Your heart constricts a bit, even though it’s not his voice, it doesn’t soften the hurt. It’s real.

“Kim Namjoon, he was one of our TAs for Business History last semester. He’s really smart. I’m talking grade A book smart. Heard his IQ is somewhere between 140 to 160. He’s crazy intelligent. Okay, but get this – he also composes on the side. He works with Yoongi and they’ve produced some stuff together. Here, listen to this.”

Put two galaxies together, and what do you get? A fucking supercluster and that shit is no joke. Together, they are something else. Someone who sees the world beyond its manmade barriers, someone who criticises, someone who is unflinchingly honest in what lies in the heart. Someone that feels, empathizes. Dreamers.

“So basically, the next year is just going to be me feeling all useless and untalented in a house full of very attractive and single men,” you surmise flatly.

“Yep,” Ahri says cheerfully, stabbing at a lettuce leaf.

“Fucking awesome.”

It’s the incessant knocking that wakes you. The doorbell follows soon after, buzzing loudly as you groan, rolling over.

“Who the f – oh.” You squint, the sunlight merrily blinding you as you open the door.

“___-noona, is now not a good time?” It’s Jimin that speaks, expression worried.

“What time is it?” You murmur, rubbing your temples. Fuck, you definitely drank too much last night. Dara dragged you to some frat party to celebrate your new roommates, who are, ironically enough, now all looking at you with palpable concern.

“It’s twelve,” Namjoon says, eyebrows furrowing. “But we can always come back later if it’s inconvenient for you.”

Oh, shit. Your gaze trails down to the multiple bags and suitcases they’re holding.

“No, no, of course not,” you croak. “Come in. Sorry. I had a long night.” Clearly.

You step to the side, allowing them to file in one by one, before locking the door behind them.

“Cute PJs,” Jin winks as he passes. You look down, horrified. Your pug print pajama pants and flimsy tee are on full display.

You slap your forehead, thoroughly embarrassed. You probably have awful bed head, too.

Running your fingers through the tangled locks, you follow them as they crowd around the living room. Grabbing a box you had the insight to leave on the counter much earlier this week, they tell you what room they’ve picked and you hand them their respective keys.

“Feel free to settle in and do whatever,” you call as you head back to your own room to get ready. “My only rule is that you clean after yourselves. This house is big enough as it is, so cleaning is a hassle. I don’t want to add personal trash into that.”

They make noises of agreement and you shut the door quickly, making your way to the bathroom to take a shower and to scream into a towel for five minutes.

The semester returns with a full swing. You’re nearly knocked over on the first punch, when the syllabus for each class is dropped and you realize you have six assignments due on the same day two weeks from now.

You’ve managed to avoid any further embarrassing interactions with your new roommates, having been bouncing around the city with your soon-to-be-AWOL friends before the term began.

From what you can tell, though, they’re fairly polite and greet you whenever there’s an opportunity. Some try for small talk, like Namjoon, Jimin and Hoseok. Jungkook is still skittish and practically flies out the room if you’re in it for too long. Yoongi tends to disappear to his room for long periods of time, but Hoseok had told you it was because he was stacking up on sleep. You guessed his work would soon require much out of him, though how the hibernation storage thing worked was beyond you.

Jin was often out; Namjoon had informed you it was because he had a few other contracts to lock down for modelling and whatnot. Taehyung’s schedule was a bit flaky, since he liked taking impromptu trips around campus and the city whenever inspiration struck.

You said farewells to some of your friends, all boxed and hugged, they promised to call often and FaceTime, to which you knew they would hold their end of the bargain to. You weren’t worried, and wished them well.

Your real point of anxiety was how you were going to survive this year. Word had apparently spread like wildfire that the most eligible bachelors of your university had moved in … together … with you.

You’ve already gotten several rather disturbing messages from unknown numbers. You’re unsurprised but still annoyed. The content gets more disconcerting every time, and at this rate, you’re going to end up having to switch numbers. You’re broke, damn it! Broke. Why can’t people just focus on their own lives for once and chill the fuck out? Your wallet wails.

“Good morning, noona.” His smile is so warm for someone who’s just woken up. How does he look so good doing it, too? He’s got a pair of loose sweats and an oversized shirt on, hair mussed and eyes silted adorably as he yawns. It’s 8:30 in the fucking morning and you already want to run yourself over with a school bus.

“Jimin, hello,” you say distractedly, stuffing your laptop into your bag and snatching your keys from the bowl. “Can’t talk, got class.”

“Wait!” He says, rushing up to meet you. He’s holding a piece of buttered toast in his hand. “Eat something while you go. It’s bad to sit in lecture without a breakfast. You won’t be able to focus.”

“Oh,” you blink. “Thank you.” Your smile softens. Jimin scuffs his bare feet shyly in response. “You’re welcome, noona. Stay safe.”

You never eat breakfast. You either never wake up in time to make anything, or you’re too lazy. This is kind of nice, you admit. Have someone take care of you, or think of you. It’s sweet.

You could get used to this, you decide. But you don’t want to get too comfortable. You’ll only end up missing it when they’re gone.

The toast is oddly delicious.

“There’s a showcase coming up.”

“Yes, and?” You say, phone squished to your cheek as you check the course code of the wrapped textbook you’re holding.

“So you’re going, right?” Ahri demands. You can hear her heels clicking against the concrete as she makes her way to her car.

You stand, huffing as you survey the neat stacks of books you’ve spent the last hour organizing. “You’re joking, right? What reason do I have to be at that showcase? I’ve never gone before and there’s no way I’m going this year,” you answer matter-of-factly as you dust yourself off.

“___, we need you at the front,” your manager calls, poking her head in to flash you an apologetic smile.

You give her a thumbs up before returning to the call. “Look, just because Hoseok and Jimin now share a living accommodation with me and we talk casually does not mean I’m suddenly their best friend. Have fun at work!”

You cut off her protests as you pocket your device decisively.

Of course.

“___!” He beams. “Hi! I didn’t know you worked here.”

“That’s because I usually work the tech section. What can I do for you today, Hoseok-sunbae?” Speak of the devil, you crack a polite smile.

“Just Hoseok, please. I was wondering if you guys sell the code for a digital copy of behavioural economics?” Why are his eyes practically sparkling? How can he be so cheerful?

“Hoseok, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why are you taking a senior economics course as a dance major?” You ask bluntly.

Hoseok splutters, rubbing his neck. “Um. Namjoon said it would be good for me?” He tries.

You look at him strangely, but shrug. It’s not your business anyway. His loss. Though you’re certain he doesn’t care much about his GPA, considering he’s pretty much got a bunch of prestigious studios vying for him already.

“Anything else I can help you with today?” You say as you scan the code.

“Actually … I was wondering if you were coming to the showcase,” Hoseok says, sounding almost shy.

You eye him suspiciously. “Do you want me there to support you or something? I thought this was only the preliminaries or something.”

“I … We’d really like it if you could make it. Jimin and I … we haven’t had much inspiration lately, to be honest,” he admits. His head hangs, like he’s on the verge of defeat. It doesn’t suit him, and you find yourself frowning.

“The last thing we want is to repeat stuff we’ve done before, but I’ve been stumped all summer. Usually I’d be done choreographing everything, but this year … I dunno,” he trails off.

“I understand that, but why would me being there help?” You tap your fingers against the counter. The campus bookstore is fairly empty today, given that you’re closing in half an hour.

“I just … I thought maybe you could be an unbiased third party, that’s all,” Hoseok says awkwardly. “If you don’t, I totally understand! It was just a suggestion, I guess.”

You sigh, pushing the terminal to him as he fumbles for his wallet. “What time is your practice?”

Hoseok’s grin is blinding and you can’t decide if you’re going to greatly regret or thank yourself for this later on.

“Thank you! Friday, at four in AR Studios. You know where the music department is, right? The practise rooms are on the hallway to the left.”

You manage a weak smile. “I’ll be there.”

It’s a Tuesday, and Taehyung’s fallen asleep on the couch.

You’re exhausted, running yourself a bit thin with the amount of work you’ve been putting in already. You perch on the edge, the soft material sinking slightly under your weight, but the angel doesn’t stir.

And you concede he might as well be one, given how ethereal he appears. He hugs a pillow to his chest, expression serene and limbs lax as he slumbers on. His dark-coloured curls obscure his forehead, pink lips parted lightly as he exhales slowly.

Before you can quench the urge, you reach over and brush his fringe from his eyes.

You’re tired. That’s the only explanation you can offer for what happens next.

Taehyung’s hand shoots up to grab your wrist tightly.

And you find yourself falling as he tugs you on top of him. A quiet oomph escapes you as you bracket his body, arms trembling faintly at the sheer proximity.

His expression, half-lidded and hazy, tells you he’s still flitting in and out of consciousness. Suspended, like he’s replaying his dream in real life.

His smile is lopsided as he cups your cheek, thumbing your cheekbones tenderly. His touch is feverish, so warm it startles you when he guides your palm to his chest, two buttons undone already.

“Heart,” he whispers, and you inhale sharply. His voice breaks, tone anguished and defeated. It both shocks and scares you.

“Taehyung,” you say shakily, ignoring the fluttering beat of his heart and the blood rushing in your ears to press your forehead against his. “Taehyung, you’re burning up.”

“I finally found you,” he sighs, and it alarms you to see he’s fading fast, eyes flickering as he sinks into the couch. “Where did you go, heart? You promised …”

“Promised? Promised what? Tae, what are you talking about?” You say frantically, shaking him lightly. His head rolls and he manages a weak chuckle. “You finally called me Tae again …”

Your eyebrows knit. “What …?” Before you manage anything more, Taehyung collapses.

“He’ll be alright. He’s got a pretty high fever, but it should break by tonight.” Seokjin sounds so self-assured and calm that you find yourself relaxing.

You’ve been fretting, pacing restlessly as you waited for the eldest to return. You contacted him the moment Taehyung knocked out, anxious and unsure of what to do next. The room filled with his laboured breathing, and you tried to alleviate some of the heat by resting a cool towel on his forehead.

The house was typically empty for the day, everyone off to their respective classes and work. The boys usually congregated at night, for dinner and the movies or games that followed. They’ve invited you several times, but you declined each time. You’ve been … busy.

You hesitated on doing more, considering how little you truly knew of Taehyung. You weren’t sure he’d appreciate you accidentally poisoning him with the wrong dose of medication. That, and invading his personal space.

Seokjin opted to buy some medication on his way back instead, and the photography major seems to sleep a bit easier now.

The eldest gives the patient one last once-over before rising to his feet.

“I might as well make dinner, then. Want to come along?” He asks lightly. You follow him to kitchen, shaking your head guiltily. “I’m sorry for making you come back so early. I just didn’t know what else to do. Everyone else was so busy, and—”

“—And I’m the only real adult, I know,” Seokjin says, chuckling. “I’m glad you called. I was about done with my shoot anyway.”

You linger at the island counter awkwardly as you watch him tie an apron to his waist and comb through the fridge for ingredients.

“Sunbae …,” you falter, but he beckons you forward with an encouraging smile. You’re relieved to see he doesn’t seem upset the slightest, though you honestly can’t say you know him enough to determine whether it was sincere or merely a practised mask.

“Jin, please. I’m not that much older, truth be told,” he tells you as you wash the rice.

“Then, Jin … Is Taehyung … with someone right now?” You keep your gaze trained to your task, draining the murky water so carefully you miss the way Seokjin tenses.

“Why? Do you have your sights set on our baby?” Seokjin says lightly, but his voice hints of strain, and he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

You snort unintentionally, coughing quickly to cover it up. “Hardly. I was just wondering.”

“Did he do something weird? Taehyung can act pretty strange when he’s out of it like that. He’ll say or do pretty weird things when he’s drunk or has a really high fever,” Seokjin explains as he pours the vegetables he’s cut into the pot on the stove.

“Oh,” you say as you plug the machine in. “I see.” The rice maker beeps, and you excuse yourself politely.

Thursday is a disaster. You’d hoped he’d keep his distance, given you’d been quite clear the last time you spoke. But of course -

“You’re avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know you’ve been dodging me since we moved in. Why?”

“Don’t you dare turn this on me. You’re the only person that’s been lying since we met. You made your point very clear that day, and you moving in? It doesn’t change a damn thing. Now tell me what you want or get out. I’m done with your shit.”

“You can’t mean that. You know I didn’t have a choice!”

“You did have a choice. Me, or that damn reputation of yours. You told me to go to hell. What more do you want?”

“You know that’s not what I meant. I didn’t know—”

“Didn’t know what? That it would mean I would lose everything? I didn’t mean shit to you. I don’t know why I ever thought I could trust you.”

“If I had known, I would’ve—”

“Would have what? Tried harder? Bull. Shit. You don’t care about anything but yourself and your career. You can tell yourself different, but you and I both know if I hadn’t trusted you, I wouldn’t be in this position. You did this to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your weakass excuse for an apology. I said I was done with you and I am. This is the last time I’m going to sit here and listen to you pretend you’re the victim. For the sake of peace, I will play niceties with you in front of your friends, but make no mistake: You can’t turn back time. You cannot change what happened, you cannot fix it, you cannot make it better. So go away. Don’t talk to me. Don’t seek me out. We’re not friends. We’ll never be anything ever again. I hope, in time, I can forget you ever existed at all.”

“I’m going to make this right, I swear. I love you more than anything, and I’ll spend the rest of my life if I have to proving it to you.”

“Please just go.”

You stare out the window, the city lights blinding in the night skyline. The glass reflects the emptiness in your eyes, and there’s only deafening silence that’s shattered in the next beat by the slamming of your door.

Hugging your arms to your chest, you refuse to acknowledge the sharp sting in your eye.

You wish you’d never met him.

“Just … be careful,” Yoongi says quietly. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him outside of their initial tour. “Housing wasn’t the only reason some of us are here.”

You stifle a sigh. All you wanted was some water, not another 2 am detox on everything wrong in your life.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask carefully. His hand pauses on the doorknob.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” is all he says.

You’re left to ponder his warning as he disappears into his room. Your phone lights up in your hand.

[01:25] Unknown: I need to see you. Can we talk?

#jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #ot7 x reader #ggukienet #hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #btsguild #jungkook fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #heartbeat

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.19

Us Redefined

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4320

Summary: 3, 2, 1... ;)

Warnings: mentions of amnesia and death, swearing, light angst, tons of confusion because of communication issues

Story masterlist ༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

I'm holding out till we're out of time Would you pierce the veil Would you cross the line I can feel you here, souls redefined I can't let go of our design Would you pierce the veil Would you cross the line Come back to me (Les Friction – Come Back to Me)

Soft, but frantic hands cradling your head, caressing your face.

Your body too heavy to move a muscle.

Weak ringing in your ears.

The world spinning.

An angel speaking, his whispered pleas squeezing your heart like a cold fist.

“…Oh, oh doll, sweetheart, please, look at me. Say something. Tell me you’re okay, please, please… don’t do this to me, not again, please, you’re gonna be okay…”

You knew that voice, that much you were aware of. You knew that touch too, careful and carrying gentleness despite the callouses on his fingers. Your mind was buzzing with blurry images and a building headache. You were sure the pain would get worse if you opened your eyes, but hearing the growing anxiety in the voice, you knew leaving them closed was not an option.

Dark spots were dancing in your field of vision, but you got glimpses of a worried angelic face, making you smile automatically, even when you were barely controlling your mimics or any muscles really. You were aware of meeting a real-life angel before, but Steve was simply something else.

You blinked heavily, hoping for the dark patches to disappear and reveal Steve fully. He was frowning, his lips moving rapidly and his eyes were glassy, the blue and green brought to life.

Was he… was he crying?

You squeezed your eyes shut, convinced the image would resolve when looking at him after that. It didn’t change.

“Doll? Oh, thank god… can you hear me?”

One of his hands shifted, sliding under your shoulder blades to lift your torso from the hard floor, bringing you closer to him, while he was still cradling your head. He was so gentle in his motions, manipulating your body as if it was made of glass. It was nothing new to you, he had done it before; he would sometimes start making love to you that way, his demeanour gradually shifting as he got lost in his own pleasure after he took care of you.

You managed to sit upright on your own, Steve’s thumb running over your cheek.

“Doll?” he questioned lowly, his eyes widening as he finally realized this was probably not the appropriate way to address you. “I mean-“

“I’m fine,” you croaked, your throat dry. You couldn’t say more. The tide wave of emotions flooded your brain, sea of images, words, sensations, overwhelming.

And god, couldn’t you tear your eyes away from him. He was as beautiful as ever, even more so, even with dark bruise-like circles under his eyes, smeared with tears.

“I’m okay,” you repeated, hesitantly reaching to caress his cheek with your fingertips, wanting to assure yourself he wouldn’t dissolve.

You knew for a fact this was very real, but still… gotta make sure, right? Everything felt so surreal lately…

Steve blinked in surprise, few salty drops escaping from behind his eyelids as he was watching you with wonder. You felt the same burn in your eyes – you wanted to cry, you wanted to laugh, you wanted to- to-

His hand caught yours on his face, his fingers tenderly wrapping around your wrist, bringing it down. You pretended it didn’t hurt you, that you didn’t feel the pang near your heart; it grew rapidly when you realized just how much that gesture of yours could have hurt him. This was probably too much.

Steve didn’t know yet. He didn’t know what you knew.

“How do you feel?” he asked slowly, the pad of his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

You could tell he was holding something back, but hey, so were you. Your body was itching with the need to throw your arms around his neck and snuggle him. Your lips burned with the desire to get familiar with his again, craving to find out if they still tasted the same.

“I’m-ugh…“ my head hurts. Seeing the fear in his eyes, you didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. This was too much already. “-okay.”

“I heard you screaming, Jarvis went on about an unauthorised entry. What happened? Do you remember?”

Oh, you did remember. There was a lot of things happening in your head, so many pictures, blending together and then falling into place only for another to appear. It was hard to make sense of it all and give him an acceptable answer. Your heart was ahead of your brain. Feelings were clearer than actual memories.

“There was a woman. Rather tall, long dark hair, dark gown. I’ve never seen her before, I’m sorry,” you babbled, too fascinated by more important matters.

Steve was here. Right here in your reach, touching you and you were… you were.

“I know. I saw her when I ran in. She just… disappeared. It’s okay, we’ll have Jarvis to show us the footage. We’ll track her, the others will get on it. You’re more important. Bruce is on his way to the medical. I’ll get you there, okay? Just hold onto me,” he coaxed and the next thing you knew, you did exactly as he asked. Mainly because he lifted you from the ground as if you weighted nothing and you really didn’t want to fall.

It brought a smile to your face and butterflies to your stomach. How many times he had done that and it still affected you so with such intensity, your fingertips tingling?

You stared at his face, so up close, wishing for nothing but to kiss him. There was a worried wrinkle on his forehead and you wanted to smoothen it with your fingertips. You recalled how he had reacted the last time you touched him though.

You needed to tell him.

“Steve, I-“ you started, only to be interrupted, much to your frustration.

“What is it? Are you uncomfortable like this? Tell me what hurts.”

You shook your head lightly, the movement actually making you dizzy. Alright, maybe a trip to the medical wasn’t that unjustified, but… but!

“No, Steve… I mean, yeah, my head hurts a bit-“

“Bruce will take a look at it and work it out,” he assured you with a sad smile and you just gaped, wanting to throw your hands in the air.

There was a sheer determination written all over his expression and you… understood. There was no way you two could talk until you were checked up. You had been hurt. Injury was a threat to you. Steve had seen you die before. It probably physically ached him to be left unsure and have something, anything to threaten your life again.

Not that you blamed him.

“I trust him that he will,” you said then, adjusting to Steve’s play, earning a faint smile and a nod. “And I trust you too.”

The lift of the corners of his lips still seemed pained, but more genuine now.

“Thank you. I’m sorry I wasn’t around when… when it happened.”

Yeah, that was probably the goal. To have you left alone so the woman – if she was a woman, because there was no way she was an ordinary human – could do whatever she had done with the bright light and bring your memories back.

“That’s not your fault, Steve. You can’t exactly watch me 24/7,” you whispered, his gaze flickering to you, the shadow in his eyes attempting to prove you wrong. You knew for certain that he was haunted by a different memory now. One that wasn’t entirely his fault either.

Oh, how much you wanted to tell him… instead, you allowed yourself to get lost in his beautiful eyes, so much that you barely noticed you reached the infirmary.

“So, what do we have here?” Bruce asked calmly, already observant of how quickly you reacted, if you were moving your head correctly. Steve lowered you to the bed, clearly paying special attention to being as gentle as possible. “Can’t walk?”

There was a slight hint of amusement in Bruce’s voice as if he knew Steve was being simply overprotective. The corners of your lips twitched when Steve shot him a mean look.

“Well, I had a very chivalrous fella at my disposal. I couldn’t refuse,” you announced, well-aware of the fact that using big words showed Bruce you weren’t that bad and your brain was working – and hell, was it working, finally. The ‘chivalrous fella’ part was for Steve’s benefit. He might get a hint… eventually. Better to ease him into it. “But my head does hurt a bit and I guess my balance might be a little off.”

“Okay. I’ll check your head for any bumps and bleeding, okay? Then I’ll shine a flashlight to your eyes and we go from here, hm?” he explained, pulling gloves on. You just nodded in understanding, watching Steve with a corner of your eye; he let Bruce work, but was still nearby.

“Do you want me to leave?” Steve asked when he noticed your line of sight and you only smiled at him and shook your head, much to Bruce’s discontent. “Okay.”

You did have quite a bump at the back of your head; the spot was definitely tender to say at least. Good news was that there was no external bleeding, your pupils were equally responsive, Bruce seemed happy that you remembered the incident – not that there was much to remember – and you didn’t feel nauseous. Your balance truly was a bit off, but nothing terrible. As long as you had something to lean on in a moment of weakness, you were fine. CT shots showed no swelling either, at least for now – mostly, you were good to go.

“It’s up to you – either you can stay here, someone checking up on you regularly, or you can be in the room Tony had set for you with the very same treatment,” Bruce offered with a reassuring smile and you instantly knew which you wanted.

“My room, please,” you pleaded (mentally chanting ‘Steve’s room! Steve’s room!’) and Bruce nodded.

“Alright. If anything changes, have Jarvis to let me know. Otherwise I’ll leave you to the hands of your chivalrous fella.”

Steve glared murder at him, but walked to your side.

Jarvis chose that moment to speak up.

“There are no signs of the woman, Steve,” the AI reported regretfully, causing Steve to clench his jaw.

“Goddammit!”

Your hand found his, squeezing reassuringly as you could feel his anger and helplessness.

“That’s… I think that’s okay.”

Steve spun to face you in a lightning speed, too distracted to evade the contact you initiated.

“Okay?! What if-- maybe she… maybe she’ll be back and we didn’t even know she got in until she- she-” he stuttered exasperatedly, but obviously holding back a lot.

It was time now.

“I don’t think she will be back. Uhm, would you mind…” You spun to the scientist slash doctor only to find him already making his way out. You stood face to face with the love of your life then, your soulmate and you couldn’t but take his other hand into yours as well, desperate to touch him. “Steve, what she did to me… she has no reason to come back. She’s finished.”

“What… what are you talking about?” he asked hesitantly, his gaze flickering to your joined hands; he didn’t free himself of your hold though. Had he caught the hint earlier then?

Your hand shook as it ran up his arm, over the crook of his shoulder, the side of his neck, ending up cradling his face.

Steve’s body went rigid, all muscles tense, but you could tell he was… he wanted to lean into your palm. He wanted it so bad, for things to be as they had been, to bask in your affection, but he knew it was wrong.

He was too much of a good man. He was your miracle and being with him again… that was a work of wonder.

“Can I kiss you?” you breathed, slowly rising to your toes, anticipation building up in your core.

You could probably pull out a water gun from behind your back now and shoot him and he would look less shocked. Also, he would look less pleased. And torn.

“I— y-yes? But-“

You couldn’t handle waiting until he finished whatever sentence he had in mind; you had waited too long already.

Your mouth caught his, warm soft lips and hot surprised exhale. He seemed frozen for a split second before he cautiously returned the kiss, slowly moving his lips against yours as if he was ready to stop the second you shoved him away.

At that thought, you grabbed a handful of his shirt to show that such thing was not fucking happening any time soon.

You parted your lips, delighted Steve actually tilted his head, giving you both better access to what you wanted and deepening the kiss. You could hear the crumbling of the walls he had tried built to stop himself from doing anything that could make you uncomfortable, anything he thought might be too much. The metaphorical noise was like music to your ears and you sighed into his mouth, revelling in the taste you didn’t realize you missed desperately.

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, flush against his chest, his other hand cradling your face, taking control.

It was like a supernova bursting in your cells, the sensation your body knew and welcomed with arms open. It was everything. It was like coming home. Tears sprang from your eyes as his tongue teased your lower lip and-

-and that was it. Steve gasped, tasting your tears and backed away, dropping you so fast you nearly tipped over.

Your eyes snapped open, watching him dreadfully as you both panted.

Just don’t say-

“I’m sorry!”

-that.

You shook your head, grabbing his forearm before he could flee. You could still taste him on your lips and you craved more, more and more… but he seemed to be utterly panicking.

“Steve! I was the one to kiss you,” you blurted out with same urgency, trying your best to meet his eyes while he was skilfully avoiding it exactly that. You bit your lip and brought your hand to his face to make him look at you. “Because I wanted to.”

“I pushed it-”

“I wasn’t complaining,” you emphasized and he winced at the sharp tone. Goddammit! Be nice! “And I’m not sorry in the slightest.”

You took a deep breath and very, oh so slowly framed his face with your palms, ready to retreat if he hated it. He didn’t, except his confusion grew. His beautiful irises were nearly hidden with how blown his pupils were, but you only saw shame now, no excitement left.

“I missed it, Steve. I missed you,” you admitted, attempting a smile.

You didn’t think his eyes could have gone wider. You were wrong.

“I’m not— I don’t understand,” he stuttered weakly, utterly confused and sounding on the verge of breaking. Ouch, weren’t you an idiot to make him feel like this. “You don’t have to act like-“

“Like what?” you echoed and he looked away, tears he bravely kept at bay welling up in his eyes again.

Oh no, no…what kind of a person made their soulmate cry? Again?!

“Like you think I want you to. I understand you need time, that you- it’s not the same for you. You don’t remember-“

“That’s the thing,” you couldn’t but laugh in incredulous euphoria, feeling blessed, which you might actually be, considering an angel brought your soul back from Heaven and all the other stuff. “I do, actually.“

You could tell his brain froze. It was impossible for it not to. There even might be a tiny ‘loading’ line above his head as his gaze grew absent, wheels turning in his head with too much effort and too little outcome.

“What,” he breathed, the one word barely leaving his lips.

“I have no clue who the woman was, what she did or how she managed to do that, but I remember now, Steve.”

Steve observed you in silence, his eyes roaming your face, most likely seeking any trace of a lie. You were a bit insulted that he thought you would lie to him about such an important thing. On the other hand, you were pleased at him thinking you might go so far only to make him happy.

He didn’t say a thing, still searching. You wondered what you could tell him to convince him before you spoke again.

“Everything, Steve,” you repeated, your mind racing. “My family, Ryan…. Our meeting, your birthday…“ you continued, but he had told you all of those things, dammit. What hadn’t he told you? Was there-? Oh… oh. “Clint shooting a la paintball at you when fighting with Natasha-“

That last bit got him snap from his strange haze.

“I… I didn’t tell you about that,” he said slowly, sounding as guilty as hopeful.

Oh, you were a bit mad about it, okay. Telling you all the nice things and leaving out the bumps on the road to your happiness? Not fair. Except the not-funny joke was on him.

“No, you didn’t. Hate to break it to you, but if you wanted to protect me from the whole ‘my job is dangerous’ thing, think again, because even without my memories, I saw the video and you ran into the frame towards the bomb knowing it was right before everything would blow up.”

Including me.

Your not-so-gentle reminder must have been sharper than you had intended, because Steve casted his gaze down, his face paling. Seeing him like that, you waited a moment for him to digest your words before doing anything else.

You tipped his chin then with the smallest pressure only, letting him to look up on his own. When he did, you were met with a sight that not for the first time reminded you of a puppy. His eyes were so freaking huge and genuine.

“You… you really remember?” he whispered, shy and hopeful, his hands finding your hip and cheek with the lightest of touches. You couldn’t but smile, for some reason tearing up.

Damn, this was sappy. And heavy.

“Yes, Steve, I remember everything, including that one time we made out in the kitchen and you told me you couldn’t cross that line yet. I remember that before I died-“

A choked noise escaped him, his fingers clenching on you and you continued before he could apologize again. That was so not the point you were making.

“-I didn’t blame you for making that choice,” you soothed him, vainly.

“I-“

You had to actually physically stop him from talking, putting a finger over his lips. He had the decency to shut up at that, his eyes glued to you in mixture of exasperation, regret and adoration.

“As I didn’t when I woke up and was showed the footage that was broadcasted all over the US. It wasn’t your fault; that was an impossible choice to make. How would have we been able to live with the knowledge of thousands of people dying so we could be happy? You… you did the right thing, Steve.”

He grunted, his hand wrapping around yours to release his mouth and let him speak, but you shook your head and looked at him pointedly.

“I remember all of those things rushing through my mind. But most importantly, I remember what an incredible person you are. I remember every single reason why I love you.”

“Doll…” he breathed out, a crack in his voice even in that one word. A shiver ran down your spine at the addressing, so full of emotions. A tear escaped his eye and you couldn’t help but catch it with your finger. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry, I can’t even-“

You frowned. You wanted to move on, to move so hard all of sudden. This was the moment you should be joyful, not full of angst and guilt.

“Hush, don’t cry and please stop apologizing.”

Steve bit his lip hard, waited for few seconds, but nodded. “Okay.”

“Really?” you blurted out, surprised. That easily…? Of course not. You could still see it was weighting him down – it would for a long, long time, you were sure of it and there probably wasn’t much you could do about it. But you could try. “Hey, if you still feel guilty about it, it doesn’t count. Just let it go, Steve. For me?”

You charmed your best pleading eyes he could never resist, bit your lip and placed your palms on his collarbones instead, deliberately reminding him of two soulmarks he carried, both for you. What other explanation was needed?

“This is how it was supposed to happen,” you whispered seriously, your gaze boring into his and yeah, the adoration in his eyes was definitely winning over the other emotions now, much to your delight. You could melt under that loving gaze. “Exactly like this.”

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose in your cheek, dropping the lightest of kisses there then.

The tenderness had your eyes flutter shut, basking in his soft affection. His lips brushed your skin as they moved towards your mouth and then they finally reached their destination.

You sighed into his mouth contentedly, your hand shifting to curl around his nape, brining yourself closer to him. God, how you loved this man. Especially when his hands moved to your shoulders, squeezing with a little too much force, desperately clinging to you so you wouldn’t dissolve into thin air.

Steve met your lips several times, always briefly, stealing little kisses, spiced with few more tears. You couldn’t tell which were yours and which were his anymore. Were you crying? Was he? You sunk into his lips before he could retreat again, earning a chuckle tickling your mouth.

Steve rested his forehead against yours, opening his eyes for you to drown in.

“You came back to me,” he whispered, voice thick with overwhelming emotions.

“I was given back,” you corrected him with a smile. He returned the gesture shortly before growing serious.

“I’m not giving you up, ever,” he declared, causing you to freeze.

You loved this. You adored this fairy-tale-like reunion and miracles, but this was reality. Steve had lost you once. There was no telling how he would react if something threatened your life again; hell, you could see it today when he carried you to the infirmary, so insistent on getting you checked up.

You didn’t want to ruin this, you honestly didn’t. But you needed to bring it up and hear him say it anyway.

“Not even when I might be in danger?”

You could see the corner of his lips twitch nervously, knowing you hit the nail on the head with deadly precision.

His voice came out raspy as he spoke up. “I- I… oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t- I’m not- you- I-”

“Say you won’t leave me, Steve. Please. Tell me you won’t give me up,” you pleaded, fear twisting your gut.

What if he dreaded the history repeating itself so much it would come between you? What if he spun of his heels right now, leaving you, because of some ridiculous idea of protecting you? The thought grew like a lump in your throat, suffocating.

He shook his head and you couldn’t breathe until his fingers caressed you face tenderly, soft smile on his lips. “I can’t imagine losing you again, in any way.”

“Then don’t. Promise you won’t get any silly ideas about leaving me to supposedly keep me safe.”

Honesty was burning in his eyes, interlacing with each word that left his lips and you finally sucked in some air. “I won’t. I swear I won’t. I won’t leave unless you tell me to and it will break my heart even then. God, doll, I love you so much.”

This time, you were breathless for a different reason. Your lips parted, your heart racing like two hundred per minute. He meant it. He actually meant it, there was no doubt of the sincerity in his eyes, the severity of his vow.

Relieved smile spread on your face and you smacked your mouth to his, effectively taking him aback. He was quick to get on with the program though, his lips sinking into yours, breathing you in as if you were the air he needed to survive. You wanted to literally jump on him, wrapping your legs around his waist, but you realized where you were.

Your room. You needed to get to your room – no, his room, his room which you had claimed yours as much as his – to have some privacy.

You withdrew swiftly, catching him off guard once more and pulling at his hand almost harshly.

It was a great plan to drag him out of the medical. Except you faltered in your steps with the fast movement causing you to sway.

Of course, Steve was there to catch you, firm hands steadying you by your hips.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay?” he coaxed.

“Yeah, just a bit dizzy. It will pass,” you assured him, throwing a perfect smile over your shoulder. You might have missed his face when aiming due to the vertigo, but that was beside the point. You tugged on his hand that had settled on your hip, only not to be able to move an inch forward, Steve’s voice fussing over you once more.

“Maybe we should ask Bruce to check you over again-”

“I’m fine, I’m… almost okay. Maybe we could ask Sam and Dean later?” you vented your sudden brilliant idea. “They are more of experts on mysterious powerful people showing up and hitting people with strange light, I guess.”

“The what now?” he honest to God squeaked, making you jump and spin on your heels at the sudden high-pitched noise. “You were hit-?”

“Later, please? Can we go somewhere private and just… be?”

He did not seem very comfortable with that idea, shifting and clenching his fists for a short moment, but then his shoulders slumped and you knew you won, rewarding him with what you were hoping to be a blinding smile.

You probably succeeded, because his fingers traced your cheeks, a smile full of wonder attacking his own lips.

“As you wish, doll.”

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Part 20

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So... that happened.

Thank you for reading! If you read this soulmate AU from the beginning, know that you read slightly above 100k words. Thank you so much for sticking with me ♥

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years

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NEVER WAS THERE A TALE OF MORE WOE, THAN THAT OF OUR JEANNE AND FANGDADDIO 😭😭😭

But alas, I will relay what I read back in the day to the best of my abilities! Spoilers for the end of Jeanne’s route under the cut, rated E (for everyone) for maximum uwus (and M for angst bc F U C K):

Okay so basically Jeanne’s route goes a lot like most of the routes, and when MC gets attacked (by the rival vampire turned by Vlad) our eyepatched wonder is not happy about it. He storms over to Comte’s room and demands to have his questions answered. Comte notes how deathly serious he is and breezes past the enmity, telling him to go ahead and ask whatever he needs to. Jeanne threatens to kill Comte if it turns out that he’s lying about anything from this point forward. To which Comte (being a little shit), replies that he literally can’t die so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Jeanne tells him he doesn’t care what it takes; he’ll rend him apart to the tiniest shred over and over and over again--even if it takes them both to the other side to accomplish it. Comte concedes and says “very well; if I lie, you’re welcome to try.” Jeanne finally asks if Comte has made a revival pact with anyone new. Comte is genuinely confused and confesses that he hasn’t--that he has no idea who Jeanne is talking about. “What ‘comrade in arms’???” Jeanne seems to sense that Comte is responding in earnest (but is also confused bc like, then who the fuck else turned the guy??? WHO IS THE THREAT I MUST STAB)

Jeanne admits that MC was attacked and you can feel the change in gravity in milliseconds. Comte starts asking where she is and if she’s okay, and Jeanne explains that she’s still in the mansion and she’s fine. Jeanne then asks if Shakespeare has the ability to turn people like he does, and Comte is bewildered to put it mildly. He’s like ??????? Where is this coming from, of course he doesn’t???? I turned him myself, he’s a lesser vampire--he doesn’t have that ability???? In a moment of sheer livid impatience, Jeanne grabs Comte by the lapels and screams “Then who can!?!?!?!” Comte stares at him and admits that there are only two people that he is aware of who can accomplish such a thing, himself and someone else. They hear a loud crash and they run to the dining room, only to find a window smashed, Mozart wounded, and MC gone. Comte’s furious sprite appears, and he asks Jeanne to look after MC, he has something to take care of. Isaac asks him where on earth he’s going, and he reveals that he’s going to Will’s house before storming out.

Poor Shakespeare faces the brunt of Comte’s rage--though I get the feeling, knowing now that Shakespeare is Vlad’s puppet--that the threat was meant more for Vlad than for Shakey boy. Comte goes to Shakey’s place and Shakespeare offers to put on tea or wine, says it’s strange for him to appear so late. Comte tells him not to bother, since he isn’t here to exchange pleasantries. Shakespeare seems p shocked given Comte isn’t usually one to be so direct or terse, and when Comte walks in he backs Shakespeare into the wall step. By step. By step. He asks him if he was involved in the harm done to MC, and Shakespeare’s like “Yeah lol what’s it to you.” And when their shoes are nearly touching, Comte grabs him by the throat and lifts him off the ground. He tells Shakespeare that if this goes on, he won’t show any mercy: "To those that would harm a single member of my house, I will hunt them to the ends of the earth. To the very depths of hell." The narration notes that he lets go of whatever dampens his pureblood aura and nearly suffocates Shakespeare with his raw intensity and power, before putting him down again and saying “That’s all I have to say. I have no more questions for you.” Comte walks right back out, slamming the door while Shakespeare is on the floor coughing.

So, needless to say, things are hella rocky between Comte and Jeanne throughout the better part of the route. But given the odd dichotomy of Comte’s reactions (his complete acceptance of Jeanne’s fury versus his own anger being directed at Vlad), it definitely felt like there was more there. Everything finally comes full circle at the end when Comte gathers everyone inside the dining room to explain precisely what happened (Vlad, etc. I’m assuming) and asks everyone to take proper precautions moving forward: "I'll take steps to make sure this never happens again. But if we are faced with a similar situation, know that I am prepared to protect you all with every fiber of my being." He deems secrecy a moot point given this incident, and just wants everyone to be safe and ask for help should they need it in the future.

MC notes that he doesn’t have his usual placid demeanor; he’s incredibly serious and grave. She’s like “Oh boy some serious shit went down huh...but if anything, I feel like it’s only made us have more faith in his ability to protect us c:” AND HERE IS WHERE THE BIG HURT HAPPENS KIDS GET YOUR TISSUES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Jeanne: "...Alright. I will trust in your words. But can I ask just one thing?” Comte: “Yes, Jeanne?” Jeanne: "You know I always hated you, I truly believed you revived me against my will for a long time." Comte just sorta deflates, but he doesn’t say anything (MY POOR BABIE) Jeanne: "But, is that really the case? Did I want to live on, away from that pyre...?" [There was a long silence.] Comte: “...That day, when I appeared, you screamed desperately 'Why must I die here. Whether it be God or the devil, someone make use of me!'” Important note: Jeanne tells MC that he is able to recall thinking that, but he has no acute recollection of saying it; this is the moment at which he lost consciousness. MC: [;-; No matter how hard he tried to stifle it, it (his deep wish to live) came out all the same...] I wasn’t able to transcribe it, but Comte essentially tells him that he tried to ask Jeanne, but he was already barely hanging on--there was no way he could get a proper answer. (This is highly plausible given we know that Jeanne was incarcerated by the Inquisition, tortured, and starved before he was tied to that pyre--it was a miracle he lasted that long. He didn’t even have the strength to move/struggle from where he was tied). Comte goes on to say that Jeanne was pissed to shit when he woke up and there was little he could do to alleviate that (I mean given he was waiting for the sweet release of death it makes sense but also N O ;-;). For a while Jeanne just stares at him before asking: Jeanne: “...Why? Why didn’t you tell me after all this time?” Comte: "Because I thought it was okay if you berated me a little." Jeanne (vine voice: AMERICA EXPLAIN): ?????????? Comte: "Despite being alive...you looked dead to the world ever since the day we met. No matter how hard I tried or whatever I did, I couldn't seem to change that. But...the only emotion I seemed to be able to draw out of you was hate. If hatred was the only thing that could move you, I figured I'd take on that role. Better to see you express something than to see you lifeless beyond any glimmer of hope or change." Jeanne: "Why....why would you go that far?? Why did you bother? I don't...understand" BECAUSE HE HAS SO MUCH LOVE TO GIVE AND HE LOVES YOU I’M SOBBING ALL OVER AGAIN OKAY DEEP BREATHS THE SHOW MUST GO ON MINNIE Comte: "Because I'm the one that revived you...because to me, you're all my precious family." Jeanne: "...............................................................I...I'm sorry" AND JEANNE HANGS HIS HEAD WAAAAAAAAAAAH Comte’s brows rise: “...Jeanne?” Jeanne: "I know an apology doesn't forgive everything I did/said. But I don't know how else to make amends"

It goes on to show them all making amends, and while Jeanne can sometimes be like “ughghhghgh d a d stop nagging I’m fINE” he secretly really loves the guy. In Jeanne’s third bday story he’s literally like [Comte’s a weirdo but I see now that that's just how he cares abt me. He's not just worldly, he's a good guy. c: I just don’t care abt whatever he’s going on abt rn]

So like full disclosure before Jeanne’s route I still loved Comte but I really didn’t know much about him beyond the “eccentric nobleman persona.” Granted we definitely get glimpses into who he really is, but this was a sizeable breakthrough. (And probably a strong allusion to the release of Comte’s MS soon after.) That being said, there were so many things said here that just absolutely shattered my heart.

Because here’s the thing. I have no qualms with Comte’s wish to be a dad--or even to revive the men, for that matter. If it makes him happy and he intends to take care of them reasonably well, then who am I to criticize him? (Fun fact: Leonardo essentially says the same exact thing; he’s more against it than I am because of the whole turning humans, but he doesn’t necessarily vilify Comte because he knows his intentions are good. And if everyone’s happy with it, what can he say?) But the fact that Comte handles their issues with so much patience and maturity...I’m in love???? There is sincerely nothing sexier than this for me. He’s fully aware that Jeanne was treated like absolute shit by the people he tried to protect, that he never really got to live for himself a single day in his life--never knew a moment’s peace, joy, or appreciation. He tries everything he can think of to get Jeanne to maybe not hate being alive as much, but fails at every turn. He still refuses to give up on the guy despite the less than ideal state of things, and decides that if Jeanne needs an enemy to survive--he will be that enemy. He doesn’t care that the guy he’s trying to help would skewer him the second he had his back turned (Jeanne pls this was a new suit couldn’t this wait). He takes full responsibility for deciding to turn him; knows that since he erred on the side of caution, it’s up to him to offer a life that’s worth keeping/staying alive for. He doesn’t belittle Jeanne’s plight for a moment, never deems him stupid or shortsighted. He’s able to understand that in the wake of so much pain and loss, of course Jeanne might not notice the finer points of Comte’s attempts to cheer him up. Even if it pains him to be on negative terms (HE LOVES HIS BOY HE DOESN’T WANT TO FIGHT) he will fully accept it if it brings Jeanne peace, if it helps Jeanne get to a place where he can begin to accept the affection he wants to offer.

And THAT’S what kills me, kids. Four hundred years, and Comte fucking LEARNED something. He is perceptive to uncanny degrees, and never fails to read a room in milliseconds; not only does he pick up on how people feel, he responds with appropriate, gentle measures. What I love so much about Comte is that he knows full well that genius does not come without its price. You could be the smartest person on earth, the most talented, whatever you choose to call it, but it will invite no shortage of hatred from other people, no shortage of misunderstanding and disdain and violence. If people don’t go mad with power, they are destroyed by the very places that birthed them. As such, the last thing he wants to do is put them under more pressure, or force them to do things against their will; he just wants to give them a chance to live beyond such fickle and hostile circumstances. And he takes this seriously, this isn’t remotely a whim for him despite all evidence to the contrary. He gets that healing takes time, and as much as he wants everyone to be happy he’s more than willing to give them space/resources to figure it out. Like. He is the father everybody DREAMS they had (if they didn’t already have a good one) and the fact that I can’t tell him what a wonderful job he’s doing is killing me on all levels INCLUDING physical.

And I just?????? Jeanne’s palpable remorse when he finds out????? And Comte’s surprise???????? Like Comte wasn’t necessarily expecting that level of apology, he knew he was taking a gamble and he was ready to do whatever he had to, he wasn’t intending to hold it against his boy. But Jeanne just has such a tender and well-meaning heart (no matter how much he struggles to express it) that regret was inevitable. There’s just so much love in that moment, in Comte’s capacity to forgive and take on so much of poor Jeanne’s unhappiness, and Jeanne’s fully ability to admit he was misguided, lower his head, and apologize. THEY JUST GET ME BLUBBERING LIKE A THREE YEAR OLD OKAY THEY ARE BOTH SO IMPORTANT TO ME AND I HURT

Tl;dr: JEANNE’S ROUTE SHOT ME FORTY-SEVEN TIMES IN THE CHEST AND LEFT ME PINING FOR COMTE MORE THAN EVER BEFORE OTL

Also a bonus, because it only just occurred to me (spoilers from the end of Comte’s route):

THEY HAVE A LEGIT REVERSAL AT THE END OF COMTE’S ROUTE???? Comte once again gathers everyone to reveal Vlad’s identity and intentions, and he apologizes for keeping it from everyone, lowering his head. He’s more than ready to face everyone’s ire for keeping secrets, but everyone’s just like “dad pls lift your head it’s okay, we’re just glad we can help you now--you don’t have to carry it all on your own.” AND IT IS IN FACT, JEANNE, THAT ALSO SAYS “No need to bow like that Comte, aren't you the one always saying we're family?" AND WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS IN A PUDDLE OF TEARS?????? I WILL NEVER BE OKAY. POOR COMTE WAS SO MOVED AND MY HEART CAN’T TAKE HAVING THIS KNOWLEDGE WHERE’S MY HANKIE. JEANNE. BEING THE ONE. TO SAY. “Aren’t we family?” WHEN HEARING HOW HARD COMTE WAS WORKING TO PROTECT THEM, BC HE 100% IDENTIFIES WITH THE STRUGGLE OF LOOKING AFTER PEOPLE THAT DON’T KNOW/CARE THAT SOMEBODY ELSE IS THE SACRIFICE FOR THEIR PEACE OF MIND. I--

WHAT IS IT THAT JEANNE AND COMTE SHARE TO THE CORE, SO MUCH THAT JEANNE WOULD NEED NO OTHER EXPLANATION TO CHANGE HIS MIND AFTER YEARS OF BITTER DISDAIN???????? THEIR CAPACITY FOR DEVOTION, THEIR EASY WILLINGNESS TO SACRIFICE ANYTHING TO PROTECT A LIFE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THIS EPIPHANY IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME

I’m crying rn I just: Comte: !!!!!!! Somebody who gets it!!! :DDD Jeanne: die. Comte: Comte: ;-; understandable have a nice day

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp spoilers #ikevamp jeanne #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #comte propaganda #ikevamp fangdad #fangdad propaganda #god who would have thought that the one thing jeanne and comte have in common is TAKING RESPONSIBILITY #deadass i was just writing and i was like hold up #but if jeanne doesnt know what he said in this route then why would he do a 180 like that????#and then i remembered that the focal point of comte's rt is learning that EVERYTHING that we knew from the getgo was a charade #he wasnt just turning ppl for funsies this was all a deliberate attempt to protect them from vlad #he was just using the dumbass noble persona to keep everyone from digging too deep (bc vlad would be waiting in the wings)#i still dont know what went wrong with shakespeare but im willing to bet that part of his whole keeping the truth surface level #might have been a direct consequence of that situation being mishandled #and as such everyone's living in a kind of ignorant bliss #the price of their peace is comte's carrying the knowledge of vlad's intentions and protecting them from an unwavering threat #and if there is ANYTHING jeanne can understand #it's wanting to bear the burden of violence or danger for the sake of protecting precious life #how could jeanne possibly remain angry with him? their hearts are undeniably aligned #GOD THIS JUST MAKES ME SO EMOTIONAL ITS A GOOD THING I HAVE SOME ROSÉ LEFT #ikevamp really goes above and fuckin beyond huh #how DARE they make me have feelings #**grumble**#i hope this answered your curiosity!!#if you need me ill be swimming in my feels good lordt im not okay

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duxhess-kryzewan · 4 years

Note

Prompt: perhaps something where Satine confronts him for never saying ‘I love you’ back? Can be as angsty/fluffy as you want

- Implicitly -

The knock at her door startles her. It was much too late for anyone in her council to be seeking to consult her, and she's fairly positive her guards would not disturb her unless it were an actual emergency, which she was fairly certain was not the case. That only left one option of who it could possibly be.

"General Kenobi." She greets lightly. The word 'General' feels foreign on her tongue. Gone were the days that he was a young and rambunctious Padawan she supposed, and instead a hardened version of what had once been. War does not play favorites in who it scars.

"Your grace," he says, offering her a polite smile, "I just came to see how you were holding up. You've had quite the eventful evening."

She nods, "Quite the eventful evening indeed, but I am fairing out fine. Such is the territory when being the figurehead of the neutral systems. It's not my first brush with danger and unfortunately I don't think it'll be my last."

Something in his expression changes; it becomes softer, more concerned. The need to remind him that she's more than capable of taking care of herself nags in the back of her head, but she decides to keep that to herself. There was no sense in telling him something he already knew.

"I certainly hope it's the last time anything like that occurs. I don't even like to fathom the possibility of something happening to you."

A slight flutter surges through her chest at the admission. Oh how a sentence can be so simple and yet so complicated. Does he have any idea what saying that does to her?

"I'm sorry," she says, suddenly remembering that they were having this conversation in her doorway, "Where are my manners, please come in."

She can all but feel his uncertainty, or perhaps it was her own. Neither of them looked particularly certain about the suggestion, but she steps aside none the less. To her relief, he makes his way in the room.

"We haven't really had much time to catch up, have we?" She finds herself saying. It's more an attempt to fill the heavy silence the permeates around them than anything else, "Always as we have been; duty before anything else."

"Well," he says, "Not always before anything else."

The boyish smile he gives her is so reminiscent of their younger years that she can't help the blush that spreads over her cheeks.

"Forgive me," he says, clearly noticing the redness of her cheeks, "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

She shakes her head. Oh how he was ever the gentleman, "No, no, I'm not embarrassed, I'm just not accustomed to hearing you speak so brashly. It's fine, what's a bit of reminiscing between friends," she pauses, "We are friends, aren't we Obi-Wan?"

He takes slow and calculated steps around her suite, observing the various knick knacks and pieces of furniture throughout the room. She recognized the pensiveness in his walk. For all the things that changed about him since they had last seen one another, that had not.

"Is that what we're calling each other these days?"

She had been reaching for her untouched glass of wine when he spoke; the words causing her to freeze mid motion.

"I..." she stutters, her mind working a mile a minute to come up with something to say, but she comes up blank. Is that what she would call them? They certainly were more than friends once upon a time, but now? She would like to believe they were, but believing in far off dreams has never worked in her favor before.

"I would hope so," she finally manages to get out, "I certainly don't trust anyone as much as you."

He stares at her so intently that she has the sudden urge to look away; as if his eyes could burn right through her. To an extent, they do.

"Friends don't reveal such confession at the threat of death. That insinuates a bit more than friendship."

She sighs. God, she was tired. So very tired.

"You never said it back, Obi-Wan." She says, "Then, I mean. Before when we were on the run. Friendship seems to be the extent of our relationship. And that's okay, I'm grateful for that."

His gaze drops to the floor, and for the first time since they boarded the ship she's able to truly look at him. Time had seemed to have worn away at her Jedi Knight. There were lines peppering his face that hadn't been there before, scars that had been collected through the years decorating his body, a tiredness behind his eyes that said more than words ever could. He had seen so many of the horrors the galaxy holds. She want's nothing more than to run her fingers over the scars and ask him why he was doing this to himself, but she already knows the answer: his dedication to protecting the galaxy would always outweigh his own safety.

"Have I ever told you the story of how Qui-Gon became my master?"

She blinks. Of all things she had been prepared for him to say, that wasn't one of them.

"I don't believe so."

He paces the room, stopping only when he reaches the window looking out over the vastness of space.

"When Qui-Gon found me, I was tending to plants in the AgriCorps." He begins, "I had grown past the age of being a youngling and had not yet been taken as anyone's apprentice. It was what I consider the lowest point in my life. I was angry, and impulsive, and was essentially told I would never be a Jedi because of those emotions."

"But they were wrong," she says, "You're one of the most formidable and wise Jedi in the galaxy.”

He shakes his head, "Not then. It was only by sheer luck that Qui-Gon had stumbled upon me. Without him...well, I don't like to ponder the what ifs. He trained me, helped me become who I am. I learned how to control my temper and my impulses and how to truly become one with the force. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't thank the stars that I able to be this; to be a Jedi."

A flood of sadness washes over her. How foolish she had been to ever believe he could love her as she loved him, "I'm glad he found you. You got to be everything you wanted."

Finally he turns to look at her, features soft and sad and for a moment she believes - fears, really - he's looking at her with nothing more than pity for the poor girl on the run that never got over him.

To say she was shocked by what follow would be a glorious understatement.

"Satine, when I said I would have left the Jedi order if you had asked, I meant it. Being a Jedi means everything to me, but I would have left. ,I would have left all of it behind had you said the word. That... that is me saying it back."

There's a tingling in her legs. A ringing in her ears. A pounding in her chest. Every part of her body was sent into overdrive and all she can do is stare dumbfounded at him. Surely he wasn't implying what she thought he was.

Right?

"I..." She begins, but struggles to find word, "I could never have asked you to do that."

He smiles sadly at her, "I know, such is the way you and I have chosen to live."

She glances down to her feet and nods, "Duty before love."

"Duty before love." He affirms.

Before she can think better of it, and before he had time to protest, she hastily makes her way to him and pulls him to her. Years may have passed since they last touched, but everything felt so familiar. His scent, his stature, the slight hitch in his breathing when they touched. She could even convince herself that no time had passed if she really wanted too.

She can feel him sigh against her as he presses his lips against her hair, her temple, her cheek. It's not much, nothing close to what may have been, but there and now it was enough. It was enough for her to know that he cared for her too.

In another life, perhaps they would have been.

Inspiration for this story was from this post here!

I take any and all Obitine prompts here!

#obitine #obi wan x satine #obitine fluff #obitine fanfiction #obtine angst #obitine prompt #obi wan and satine #obi wan x satine prompts

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exosmuttytalk · 4 years

Text

Guardian

Characters: Do Kyungsoo, unnamed female OC (told from the perspective of DO)

Genre: angst.

Rating: mature.

Warning: this deals with topics darker than my usual. Death, suicide and mental health problems mentioned. Proceed with caution and take care!

Summary: there is no summary because the core happening of the story is what makes it as a whole, so you gonna have to read to find out lol

(excuse weird formating, I'm on mobile)

First thing I noticed the moment after you quietly stepped through the front door were the deepest dark circles I'd ever seen rimming your eyes.

Your eyes had always been beautiful. Big and bright, they usually shone with a mischievous spark of intelligence and expressivity. Many times I looked at you and wondered how it was me who became the actor when you seemed able to tell stories with your eyes. On the rarer occasion, your eyes also warned me of the times you slipped closer to your darker-than-reality inner world, that one you were able to scape from when you were barely older than a teenager, through sheer will, family support and a necessary dose of drugs to balance your neurotransmitters. But the longer we were together, the more fulfilled your professional life became, the better relationships you held with other people, the more you enjoyed your hobbies, the more seldom I got to see those hints of sadness barely concealed behind fake content smiles.

This time was not one of those rare times. This time, when I looked at you, I felt genuine fear for you.

This time, your eyes did not show sadness. They didn't even look tired. They were just...completely indifferent. They glossed over our living room and didn't even acknowledge my presence, although I had occupied my usual spot at the armchair for quite a few hours already.

Greetings weren't exchanged either.

I vaguely remembered last night's fight. Even though we used to pride ourselves in the fact that communication was easy for us, daily life, stress fuelled by our jobs and our inability to sometimes see each other as often as we wanted would put a strain on any relationship. But we always managed to solve those issues. They were never such a big deal for us. Or were they?

As you carelessly dropped your oversized folder on top of the dining table, I remembered about the project you needed to hand in at the end of this week.

"How did they like the design this time?" My question was aimed towards finding out what may have caused the icy expression in your eyes. You adored your job at the firm you and some colleagues had set up a few years after you finished your architecture studies. You never missed an opportunity to ramble on and on about what was your life's passion project; even though most of the times I wasn't able to follow every explanation, I was always happy to listen.

Not this time. You turned on your heels swiftly and walked into the kitchen, followed closely by Jackie, but leaving me behind with my unanswered question.

Was it bad enough to deserve this silent treatment?

I could hear you rummaging through the shelves and then I saw you making your way back to the living room, Jackie swiftly walking behind you. You always cradled Jackie for a little while before opening the can of delicious cat food that would go into her plate. You absolutely adored that little rescue cat and the feeling was mutual; a relationship I had never been able to partake in. But this time, you simply dumped the contents of the can into the bowl and gave the animal a absentmindedly pat on the head. You didn't even look at her.

After that, you lied down across the sofa in the same clothes you'd gone to work in and pulled out your phone and headphones. That made me wonder where my own phone could be. I was always aware of my terrible memory even if there were more pressing issues at hand. Headphones were covering your ears just seconds after and I was left there, silently wondering what the hell was wrong.

Maybe you'd had a truly awful day at work? Maybe you were overworked and needed to rest? Could you actually be that mad at me? I truly don't remember what I said, but whatever it was, I'm so sorry.

As I got lost in my thoughts, Jackie had already finished her food and, after grooming herself a bit, she hopped onto the sofa and nestled herself up against your belly. That was the only moment I saw you react. You briefly glanced down from your screen to the cozy creature in your lap. But you didn't smile. You didn't pet her. But I got to see your eyes and there was no indifference in them no more. They were miserable.

I was so scared, baby. I had never seen you so unresponsive and distressed in all our years together. From experience, I knew better than to try to touch you in some instances, so I went for the second best option. I got up and rushed down the hallway to our room, where I supposed I had left my phone. It was time to call your mother, your best friend, whoever was around you when you first had an outbreak. They would know what to do better than me.

I had barely started looking around when I heard the door bell ring. Then I heard it again, insistent. I stopped on my tracks and listened, expecting you to go get it, as you were closer. By the third time, the visitant had switched to knocking and I guessed you weren't able to hear it due to the headphones, so I turned around and rushed back to the front door.

I peeked through the peephole and felt a rush of relief when I recognised your best friend. Bless her soul, she may actually have some sort of mental connection with you.

"It's Sarah!" I shouted in your direction, getting no response back. Just before she knocked for a second time, I reached out for the door knob. The door didn't open. I stared at the door knob in confusion. It was the same piece of silver metal that had been attached to that door since we first got the apartment together years ago. The same familiar and innocuous whatnot I made use of every single day. Maybe it was stuck?

Once again, I reached for it, although this time I was intently watching my right hand.

My fingers.

They went right through the knob. As if it wasn't actually there. As if it wasn't even corporeal.

The impression made me fall down on my butt, but I didn't have time to process anything, as Sarah gave a final loud bang to the door and shouted.

"I know you're there. You either open yourself or I'll call the police"

The threat finally made you stand up and go open the door. From my position down on the floor, I could see how you were easily able to grab onto the doorknob to at last let her in. Being sort of your polar opposite on that regard, Sarah immediately latched on to your neck and you stoically responded by patting her back with one of your hands. As for me, I stared at my own hands in disbelief.

What the fuck was going on!? Could I be dreaming? I tried pinching myself hard and I felt it hurt, but nothing else happened. I was freaking out and seeing both of you in front of me behave in such a mellow way only increased my alarm.

Of course, Sarah lead the way to the kitchen, pulling your arm and stepping right beside me as if I wasn't having a straight up meltdown down at the floor. Jackie had trotted behind you to the hall and was now looking straight at me with what seemed to me a full of disdain expression. At least someone recognised my presence.

"When was the last time you ate?" Sarah's usually loud voice came booming from the kitchen. This question was odd enough to spark my interest, so I stood up and headed that way.

"Yesterday," you responded in a monotone voice.

Sarah, who had started stocking up plastic boxes full of already prepared food in the freezer, turned around to look at you with an eyebrow raised.

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah. Also, there's no point in that, I'm not even hungry," you answered again before turning around to occupy the spot you'd left at the couch.

To be fair, she had filled the sad looking fridge with at least a week worth of meals for two. Was the fridge that empty last time I checked?

"Baby, you can't be doing this to yourself."

"I'm not doing anything, OK?" you suddenly snapped back at her. I had never heard you speak to her in that tone. "I am fine and I will be fine. I just need you all to leave me the fuck alone!"

With that said, you went back to adjusting the headphones over your head and to rummaging through your phone. Sarah stared at you with a dispared look on her face.

"And you know that is definitely not healthy. I am done with this. I'm looking for a therapist and you're coming to an appointment on Monday."

"Do whatever the fuck you want. I am not telling you how to live your life."

Sarah sighed and nodded in response.

"I can't even imagine what you're going through and how absolutely devastated you must be feeling right now. And I know it's barely been a month, but you can't let yourself slip this way, not with your records."

A month since what?

You shrugged her worry off.

"I'm leaving. I will call you later. If anything, please, at least send me an emoji or something so I know you're okay."

You grunted at her before she kneeled down next to the sofa to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Then, she left the house without even glancing at my direction.

I had witnessed the whole scene from a corner of the room and I had grown in my bewilderment with every spoken word.

As soon as I heard the front door softly closing, I walked up to the sofa and circled it, so I was able to see what you were doing that had caused such disagreement.

"KSoo <3" read the letters at the top of the easily recognizable screen of the chat service we used on a regular basis. As I approached you even closer, I could hear my own voice coming from your headphones. I remeber sending you that audio barely a week ago, when I asked you to make a quick run to the grocery store before coming back home, as I needed some more ingredients for that night's dinner.

Your eyes were filled with silent tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Second part: GUARDIAN II

MASTERLIST!?

Other Kyungsoo shizs

Everyday

Stories of my downfall + Kai

@exosmutxoxo

#exo #do kyungsoo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #do fanfiction #kyungsoo fanfiction #exo angst #Do angst

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