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rubykgrant · 2 years

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(yet another sappy Grimmons thing I wrote a while back, this one with some Grif Family Angst thrown in)

Grif feels like he’s got a burning hole inside his chest... the kind of white-hot cold fire you get when you’ve been running for a long time (horrible, and yet another reason to avoid running as much as possible), or when you’re trying not to cry.

He certainly hasn’t been running.

Grif doesn’t want this to be happening right now, he’s old enough to be able to calm himself down... right? It was just being here, and being around THEM; it was throwing him back a few years. Well, that was exactly the point, wasn’t it?

One thing he missed about being a kid- when he had a rotten day that caused him to cry his eyes out, he could sleep it off. Even just a nap helped. Once he woke up, the bad mood was out of his system. Now, after years and years and YEARS of dealing with all kinds of unpleasant situations, his bad moods linger.

Grif KNEW it was going to be a rocky visit with his parents. That was just a given. He thought he had prepared himself to deal with it, and for a while they both even seemed kinda-sorta OK, so he thought it wouldn’t be so bad...

Then they had a fight. Because it didn’t matter how old he was, or how many years had gone by without seeing them, his mom and dad still made him feel the same as always. From their point of view, they were just so set in their ways, it was impossible to act different. From their point of view, this was just typical behavior, so their kids (now grown) should be used to it by now. From their point of view, they weren’t THAT awful (their own parents had been much worse, so by that logic, everything they did was excusable).

Without using crude language... Dexter Grif did not appreciate their outlook (Doc would be so proud of him, phrasing it delicately like that). From his point of view, they had set a pretty poor example... and he wanted it to finally stop. Or, if nothing else, show them he was done playing the same old games.

He had tried to have a mature, rational conversation with them, explain why things had to change because HE had changed, his LIFE had changed, but no... they got defensive (which, he supposed, was fair), and then they started deflecting blame (which was NOT fair), and then said some shit that threw him back a few years, and suddenly he was so frustrated, he totally lost control, he felt like a little kid throwing a fit.

Grif doesn’t want to cry right now... because then it means he’s the same as always, he hasn’t really changed, and they’re both right.

Hot tears sting his eyes and roll down his cheeks as he hears their words repeat in his head… his mom, demanding to know why he thought he was “better” than her, when he was just a quitter, too. When it got too hard to keep taking care of Kai, when school was too difficult, whenever he had a job that was too demanding… he just gave up.

His dad, agreeing with her, and reminding his son that being selfish runs in the family. Eventually, “your man will figure out he’s too good for you”, and it will be too hard to stay together, and Dexter Grif will do what he does best; give up. Leave. Quit.

They had a point, he had left home, then school, and most jobs he had years ago, but was it really a fair comparison? His old life, and the way they still acted? It wasn’t the same… parents leaving their kids alone for days (sometimes weeks) because they can’t handle responsibilities, and a young man already feeling burnt-out in life, so he attempted to change it for the better. True, he wound up failing in college, and it just made sense after a while to give up on school, but he really TRIED.

He tried again, joining the Red Army of all things, because Grif figured if he couldn’t kick his own butt into working hard, the military sure could... and yeah, he had been afraid. Not of failing with school, but failing with life, because if he didn’t have a good job, he wouldn’t make enough money, and he’d have to start stealing stuff again, but he wasn’t a little kid anymore, grown-ups go to big-boy jail, which was exactly where his dad often wound up.

He was afraid of ruining Kai’s life too, either by being too pushy or too much of a push-over. She had to take care of herself, because he wasn’t good enough, and neither were their parents… he thought he had to go, or things would only get worse.

It turns out, being in a situation that makes you unhappy just makes all your bad habits intensify (not to mention, the fact that the entire military operation had been a twisted lie, but that was a whole OTHER problem). He stayed with it, though. He had stayed with those crazy morons he met in Blood Gulch, he had stayed with SIMMONS, for years and years, no matter how dangerous it got, no matter how difficult it got, and then...

He had quit.

Grif shudders, still burning up, and yet so cold. Quit-quit-quit-quit-QUIT. He can remember his voice back then, sounding so calm and certain, masking all kinds of spiteful emotions. Quit. It didn’t last, he came back to them the first chance he got, but still... he had quit.

He wishes it never happened... he wishes none of his friends even knew he was capable of doing something like that. Everybody always joked that he was lazy and selfish, which was fine when you’re just talking about skipping chores to go eat a bag of chips, but in important situations? Grif liked to think that USUALLY, he stepped-up. Even if he complained and whined the whole time, he was always THERE with them through it all... until he quit. He proved them right, he was lazy and selfish in the worst possible way. He wishes he was better. He wishes his mom was better. He wishes his dad was better. He wishes his parents weren’t right about him...

That burning feeling inside is worse than ever... Grif feels empty, so empty that it HURTS. It wasn’t fair, his mom and dad didn’t even KNOW what happened or how, but evidently they just knew their son oh-so well... enough to pick him apart and throw him back. They had been hurt by the things he said to them earlier, calling them out on their own BS, so they verbally lashed out... and that was yet another thing they all had in common. He can be an asshole sometimes, but he’s trying… he’s trying to talk about stuff better, explain what he’s feeling, why something bothers him, and also LISTEN, so he can apologize when he needs to.

Even after all that trying, he failed.

The worst part is, he still loves them. In that way lots of children helplessly love their parents, even after years of being mistreated and growing up... and he knows, they love him too. They also love Kai. When Grif left for college, BOTH of his parents had come home at once, which was so rare it was practically a sign of the apocalypse. He thought it was the perfect time, since his little sister wouldn’t be alone... but he had also been jealous. Why couldn’t mom and dad take care of HIM? It turned out not to matter, because it didn’t last; mom started staying out late, and dad got in trouble. Again.

They loved their children, yes, but that love was never enough to make them try to change, and THAT is what really gets to Grif. What if he didn’t love his friends enough? What if he didn’t love his sister enough? What if he didn’t love Simmons enough? What if he didn’t even love HIMSELF enough?

What if quitting wasn’t him “at his worst”, what if that was just... who he really was?

What if he couldn’t actually change?

Grif shakes once again, feeling his throat close, involuntarily choking on the sob that wants to happen, GREAT, he’s literally going to suffocate on his own sadness, this was so stupid, he was so stupid, he hates feeling like this, he never should have come here, he never should have tried to talk to his parents, he should just-

“Grif? Hey, um...” that was Simmons. He had come into the hotel room as quietly as possible without trying to be “sneaky”. He didn’t want to barge in and surprise Grif, but he also didn’t want to avoid Grif, either. “I’m not sure what happened earlier, but I know you’re upset... so, if uh, if you need me to just give you some space, I can do that, but if you wanna talk, I can definitely do that too, or we can just go to bed, or, y’know, whatever. Just let me know, and I’ll-”

Grif looks at his boyfriend- no, his fiancé- standing there in the dimly lit room, and it feels like Simmons is just so FAR. Out of reach. Grif wants to say something, ask Simmons for something, but he’s still choking on that damn SOB, and all that comes out is a soft noise… it sounds like a muffled gasp, slightly sharp, but barely louder than a whisper…

Simmons’ head snaps up suddenly when he hears that noise, and he walks toward Grif, somehow not rushing and yet, there he is, no longer all the way on the other side of them room, but right beside Grif. He reaches out to just barely touch Grif’s arms, looking at him intently with an almost unreadable expression (a mix of concern, anxiety, left-over resentment he still felt aimed at Grif’s parents for the shouting he listened to earlier, that serious and determined feeling he had when he KNEW he could fix a problem if he just thinks it through, and all kinds of fondness for the man he loves).

Grif presses himself into Simmons’ chest, wanting to be held, wanting to be loved, wanting this coldness he feels to be replaced by warmth. Simmons embraces him tightly, trying to silently tell Grif “Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you”. For a long time, they just stand like that. Grif shivers, as if he’s been standing outside in a downpour of cold rain, and Simmons knows what that shivering is… he remembers shaking like that many times (often it was when he had failed, and knew he would get in trouble. Sometimes, it was before the failure, knowing it was probably going to happen somehow, and feeling despair crash down around him, because it was all his own fault for not being good enough).

Simmons’ hands move across Grif’s back, up and down Grif’s arms, trying to ground him and comfort him. Finally, Grif feels his chest un-lock, and instead of a sob, he lets out a long sigh. Tears come with it, but this isn’t like the painful crying… it is a release of pressure. The tears streak down his face, getting absorbed by the fabric of Simmons’ shirt. In sort of an ironic way, Grif thinks that is a perfect metaphor; Simmons, soaking up this bad mood, but without getting hurt in the process. At last, the frantic and COLD feeling starts to let go of him.

The way Simmons rocks them both from side-to-side slightly… Grif is almost in awe. His awkward nerd has become so confident, and so affectionate. All because of him. Because of Grif’s friendship, and then Grif’s love. Despite all the bad things he’s experienced, being held like this makes him feel like he’s just a little bit lucky. Grif’s hands slide up Simmons’ chest (touching the damp spots from his own tears). He presses his forehead into the crook of Simmons’ neck, in awe yet again, because it always feels so good when he does this… like he was meant to fit together with Simmons, right here.

#red vs blue #rvb #rvb fic #dexter grif #dick simmons #grimmons

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

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It’s very ambiguous

Pairing: Loki x reader (gender neutral)

Summary: You have finally come to age; your soulmate mark draws itself in your skin. You can't figure out who it connects you with, but, oh dear, you can only hope and wish it is to him. But Loki won't make it easy for you to find out. Will you both overcome the pride and fear that would involve your love?

Word count: 4.6 K

Warnings: a bit of angst. (English is not my mother tongue and it’s my first time writing fanfiction in english, so forgive me if there’s any errors, and feel free to correct them!)

Sighing at your reflection, you stared for the Norns know how long to the fresh image that drew itself in the side of your abdomen.

You thanked it was easy to hide; saving you endless mockery from your friends if they saw that. The vivid portrayal of who you loved the most, in the most ambiguous drawing you could’ve ever gotten. How ironic.

What the Heavens would that mean, you asked yourself at least five times until the impatient knocking on the bathroom door pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Hurry up, we’re late”, said Sif. You knew she was already all dressed up for the Ball, and she would kill you, seeing you were still on your robes. You opened the bathroom door slowly, with burrowed frows. You couldn’t hide it, as much as you tried to. “Oh, for God’s sa…” she started complaining, but stopped as soon as she realized you were in a terrible state of mind.

“I got it”, you explained after she made you get out of the bathroom and sat you on the edge of the bed. “I got the mark. Impossible to guess”.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll know who they is when the time is right”, said she, comforting you and eyeing the outfit you’d chosen earlier. “But crytime is over. Guess what time it is now. Yes, you guessed right. The Ball”.

The last thing you wanted to do in that moment was to dance; or to stay in a chair drinking wine the entirety of the night, for that matter. You didn’t need another reminder of your frustrated attempts at making him notice you. And you knew he wasn’t the one (if he were your soulmate, it would’ve already happened years; no, decades ago). But you still couldn’t help but falling in love at every little smirk, every little comment, every little thing he did. Dear, you were lost, completely gone in love.

That’s why you knew you wouldn’t find your soulmate for a long, long time. At least not until your crush for Loki had finally gone away.

“I’d rather stay”, you stated, and she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I want to go, and I can’t go alone. Please, at least do it for me”.

“Why would you want to go? Ever since we’re on age of being asked to dance, we have only gotten invitations from… well, anyone except them. And in the Balls we can’t even be their friends”.

“We can be friends, if they talk to us first we can talk back”.

“Yeah, we could, but they don’t talk first. They never do”.

Both of you were completely lost for the princes. But, unlike you, Sif had a chance with Thor. She was graceful, divine, a wonderful woman; a whole Goddess, an amazing warrior. There was no question Thor would sooner or later find love in her friend. But you… why would a prince like Loki lay his eyes on you? Romantically, he never showed a single trace of interest in anyone, much less someone in his friendgroup. You were the closest to him, yet he never said a thing.

He probably knew you drooled over him. He must have noticed how you looked at him in the library when he read to you, how you always defended him from everyone else’s mockery, how you intentionally pretended like you didn’t know any better in spells so that he could help you out. How your heartbeat raced when he fell asleep on your lap. He must have noticed, yet he said nothing.

She finally managed to convince you to go, with the condition that if you weren’t asked to dance at all, or even talk, you’d go back to your manor early.

You got in your best clothes, and undressing the best attitude possible, you both arrived at the palace and entered the ballroom as quick as your feet let you. The ambient was marvelous. Subtle lighting, most of them by candles. The golden details that characterized Asgard so well were everywhere. Both King and Queen were sat in their thrones, waiting patiently for the rest of the royal family to arrive before giving the annual speech and getting the party started.

“Do you think they’re not coming?” asked Sif as you got comfortable in your seats, eyeing the entrances.

“They can’t miss it, they’re sort of the hosts”, you said, “but… well, I don’t know. The other day after training, Thor mentioned something about this year being particularly difficult for them”, you added in such a low whisper that Sif had to pull closer.

“What did he say? He didn’t mention anything to me”, she whispered back. You two looked like you were merely gossiping, if it weren’t for the lack of giggling that would usually follow.

“He said… he said something along the lines of ‘we’re expected so much more than before in these dances, they’re more than just for fun now’, and, Sif, I think he meant…”, but she abruptly interrupted you.

“Courting? Oh, for the Norns, they’re not expected to choose a partner now, so soon, aren’t they?”.

“Soon? Sif, they’re already at each other’s throats for who’s becoming King, and they have been for a while”.

“They’re not exactly competing, anyways. You don’t have to worry about this. It’s not like Loki’s the one winning” said she, earning a subtle kick in the leg. “Auch!”.

“Would you stop being so hard on him?”.

“You know I’m right!”.

“You know it hurts him. If you think so, at least keep it to yourself, Sif”.

You could’ve kept lecturing her if it weren’t for the sarcastic clapping of the Queen upon seeing the arrival of her sons. You read the ‘you’re late!’ on her lips and the apologetic looks on their faces. But nothing of that distracted you from admiring how marvelous Loki could get sometimes. Just when you thought he couldn't look any better, he outdid himself. You let out a sigh and Sif laughed.

“You’re staring”.

“And rightfully so. Look at him”.

But no matter how much you looked at him for the whole evening, you couldn’t get even a gaze from him. He didn’t even eyed you from the distance. You would’ve even gotten actually mad at him if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t looking anywhere. He didn’t seem like he was avoiding you; he was actively staring at the floor, with the saddest look on his face. And Thor looked pissed off.

“There’s a story in there and I will ask for as many details as possible once Loki spills the beans to you”, said Sif, elbowing you.

“I don’t think he will. Look, it looks like more than a fight. He looks so upset”.

You could only wish you were brave enough to break the stupid rule of the royals approach first so you could take his hand tightly and comfort him in whatever he was going through. As you always did. As he always let you.

The music played for three hours. Everyone was on their feet, dancing away, drinking away and chatting away, as one should in a Ball dance. Everyone except you and certain dark prince you didn’t even bother staring at anymore. You gave up looking for his attention an hour after the dance properly started, and it did nothing good to your pride to have been trying for that long anyways.

Sif got her chance, of course. Thor took his time, but after long he gave up with whatever quarrel he was having with his brother and approached her decisively. You were past pissed. Disappointed. After another sip of your wine, you couldn’t resist and stole a glance to Loki’s seat. To your surprise, you met his gaze. The God of Mischief was staring at you, and he apparently has been for Gods know how long. He quickly dropped his head and went back to looking at the floor, now with a completely red face.

You soon realized he was even more upset than before, as he watched Thor and Sif dance. And then you understood. Everything fell into place. Of course. Of course he liked Sif. Who wouldn’t. That’s why he fought with Thor. That’s why he was so worked up. You didn’t even need to read his mind to confirm it.

You waited, still holding your eyes on him. You waited for another half an hour, but your patience was already on thin ice and he didn’t look like he would do anything more, anyways. So you did what you should’ve done hours ago. You got up and left.

“No, brother, you can go, I’ll let Mother know I’m staying”, said Loki from his room.

He could hear Thor’s patience shatter in pieces from the other side of the door.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we can’t miss the Ball. Father will kill you”.

“It’s not my problem”.

“I think it is quite your problem, brother”. Loki sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for his mockery. Thor sensed it and lowered his tone of voice, insisting. “Tell me what it is, Loki. I promise I’ll try to help out”.

But he only scoffed and locked the door, to start pacing around the room, feeding his anxiety even more. He covered his arm with his palm and tried his best to make it go away. It’s just an accidental illusion. I’m making it out of nervousness. I need to make it go away, he kept saying under his breath. But it didn’t go away. It wasn’t an illusion.

“Oh, FOR THE NINE REALMS”, he kicked his chair as a sudden burst of anger ate him alive.

“Loki, let me in!”, insisted Thor. “I’m going in”.

“You can’t help me”.

“I might, if you just tell me what is it. You love the dances. Come on”.

“I do love dances, Thor, I’m not particularly fond of the weight this one has on us; not this year” he growled from the floor, knees on his chest. “Not with what I had planned, I can’t do it now” he whispered. Thor pretended like he didn’t listen to that last bit.

Loki had been circling around the idea of asking you to dance for the last few months. It was all he wanted; to caress your hand and gently hold you by the waist, to move at the pace of the music, to feel your heart on his chest, his rising heartbeat with every breath you took. He wanted you, and if that wasn’t possible (and he was sure it wasn’t) he wanted to dance with you all night long.

But now, he would have to court you and marry you if he did. And, of course, it was what he wanted. It was definitely all he wanted. But he knew you wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t risk your beautiful friendship over anything in the world. What if he lost you forever? He could never bring himself to lose you, in any form or way.

“Brother, let me in. Or get out of the room. We’re late”.

“You’re late, Thor. Must I repeat myself? I’m not going”.

“I’m kicking the door”.

Loki sighed, and waited to hear Thor’s intense footsteps get closer and closer to the door to open it just in time and see him land on his face. Thor got up off the floor with blood on his nose.

“It combines with your crimson cape, brother, no need to worry” said Loki mockingly.

But Thor paid little attention to his silvertongue. Instead, his eyes were fixed on his arm. Then, he understood exactly why he was acting so terrified. Loki covered his arm as soon as he realized, mortified, but it was now too late and Thor had already seen it.

“Do you need any other reason to invite them to dance with you?”, he said with a grin of pride.

“It's not them. I’m certain”.

“How are you so certain? It’s such an ambiguous drawing, and you haven’t seen theirs!”.

“They doesn’t even have a soulmate mark yet. They told me the other day”.

“You didn’t have one at that time either, it must have changed. Come on”.

Loki sighed and put on a long sleeved outfit, while letting Thor rant about how much he was sure you’d reciprocate his feelings. And Loki couldn’t say anything against it, because it would only bring ruin to everyone; to spill the obvious secret that haunted him everyday.

The fact that you lusted over Thor.

And it hurted him like anything else, because he knew even though you didn’t say anything. He knew he was the lesser prince. The one that gets looked over. The shadow in his brother’s spotlight. The always-prince, never-King. It hurted like Hell.

But there was nothing he could do about it. And now he had a mark that linked him to the Norns know who, but he only had eyes for you.

Because you were always there. You were the one to defend him against his own insecurities, and everyone else’s accusations. The one to laugh the loudest at his jokes, the one to hold him the tightest when you were in fear, the one to call him first to anything. And you were perfect. But you, for obvious reasons, didn’t think the same of him. You thought the world of him, but not in the way he wished.

And he wouldn’t even get to see you happy from someone else’s love, because his brother didn’t even have eyes for you. The idiot of Thor could not see your brightness, and Loki wondered how could anyone not fall in love with you.

“You need to try, Loki, you’ll never know if you don’t risk a little”.

“A little? To you this is a little? Do you have any idea what would happen to me if I lost them forever? If the person that I love the most leaves me because I just decided to stop hiding my feelings?”, yelled Loki, completely angered.

“Ah, there it is. If I decided to stop hiding my feelings”, repeated Thor, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?!”.

“You are afraid; so incredibly afraid of letting anyone know you fully. That is your problem, Loki. They’ll accept you no matter what, because they already know you. You think you’re hiding, well, you’re not so good with this little lie of yours”, said finally Thor, tired of biting his tongue about it.

“You know nothing about their feelings”.

“I know enough”.

“Believe me, you don’t. And you don’t get to say a word about my love life, or anything about this situation, for that matter. You don’t get to make light of my situation, as you do with everything regarding me. Now, leave. Me. Alone”.

They continued fighting about it until one of their tutors had enough of their unpunctuality and came to look for them. Both entered the ballroom still highly upset at each other and said nothing about it all night. Frigga knew exactly what they were talking about, and didn’t make too much of a fuss about the delay in their arrival.

Loki tried to not look at you in the entirety of the night; avoided all the eye contact he could with anyone, specially you. He was too afraid you’d choose that exact time to practice your special abilities at mind reading (since you’ve done this at previous dances, when Loki didn’t approach you), and if he didn’t see you, you couldn’t do it. Because if you dared reading his mind you’d only find yourself. And in those little moments he got to glance at you, while you were distracted with something else, he sank in sadness, because all he wanted was to embrace you and dance with you. You looked as fantastic as you always were and more. You looked especially excellent. And it didn’t go unnoticed to him that you looked annoyed. From the eye-sided glances he got to steal from you, he saw you staring at the seat he and his brother were in. You were expectant. You wanted to be taken out to dance. And Loki’s suspicions about your crush on Thor only got reassured when he asked Sif for a dance and you looked the most annoyed you’d ever looked in ages.

You left the dance early. After about ten minutes Loki decided to go after you. Outside of the ballroom you could still be a friend; that was the whole point of swallowing his feelings. He wandered the palace until he heard fireballs collapsing against the huge walls of your typical training spot, but he lingered his entrance to observe you in an incredibly angry state of your magic.

“You’ll set the palace on fire” said a gut-wrenching familiar voice. Of course Thor was there. Of course Thor would get earlier to comfort you in something that he destroyed.

“Then so be it”, you answered with a crack in your voice. Loki didn’t mean to invade your privacy, but he couldn’t help himself but to listen.

“I know why you’re upset. Believe me, it upsets me too”.

“You have no idea what upsets me”, you answered, and Thor chuckled. Loki could sense that Thor was thinking about how similar you and Loki were. You threw another fireball against the wall.

“Let me guess”.

“Enlighten me, your majesty”.

“You didn’t get to dance with the man you like”.

“You know nothing about the man I like”.

“When will you all stop treating me as if I were blind? Come on, why won’t you tell me? I’m your friend. I know you’re burning up in love and you still think you don’t have a chance because… because what? Because he’s the prince of Asgard?” said Thor. You stopped your magic and stared at him with teary eyes.

“Because the prince of Asgard I love, is in love with Sif. And there’s nothing I can do about it” you answered. Loki’s heart broke. Hearing you admit your raw feelings to Thor that way, and Thor not even understanding you were talking about him.

“What makes you think he’s in love with Sif?!” insisted, still clueless.

But Loki didn’t need to hear any more of that. He ran through the halls of the palace until he got to lock himself in his room.

“What makes you think he’s in love with Sif?!”, Thor asked, and you scoffed. You lowered your gaze to the floor, trying to make the tears go unnoticed. They didn’t, and Thor hugged you tightly.

Thor was almost like a brother to you. You grew up together, but it was more than that. You were always for each other. He never had to ask about your love for Loki, he always knew. And you never had to ask about his crush in Sif; it was transparent. So you both supported each other. You didn’t even bother telling him how she felt about him, it was bound to happen. Now, you and Loki, on the other hand…

“He is, you can’t deny it”.

“I’m denying it, I assure you”. You wiped your tears away and touched your mark over your clothes. He smiled. “You got the mark, didn’t you?”.

“Yeah”.

“What is it?”.

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter. Maybe I should just forget him and start looking for my soulmate. If the mark showed up today, then it must be for something. There has to be a reason”. Thor nodded, still smiling. “What are you so happy about, dumbass? My heart’s broken".

“Nothing. You keep on looking. Can I see it?”, said he, patting your back.

“It’s too ambiguous, you won’t guess it”.

“So I expected”.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you know anything?”.

“Nothing whatsoever”.

You got in your fighting position. Loki bent down in his seat, focusing on the next fight. He was sure you’d win; he has been teaching you new moves and you completely mastered them. And your rival didn’t know any better, anyways.

One kick from your opponent; you avoided it and threw a punch. Another kick. Another punch. The rival grabbed your leg, making you lose your balance and almost fall down, but you used that impulse to push him away and get him to the ground. He got up and started using magic. A blue light shone around him and started getting closer to your feet. You closed your eyes and focused intensely; soon, water drops started emerging from the tips of your fingers. They quickly transformed into a stream of water that wrapped your opponent from head to toes, making his electricity magic attack him, instead of you. Loki smiled.

Your rival pushed further his strength and one of the electrified waterjets hit your leg. You fell to the ground with a scream. It hurted, a lot. Loki gasped and Thor had to grab his shoulder to remind him it was just a training fight. For his tranquility, you got up on your feet soon and started using your magic again.

An aura of sparks and wind formed around you while you closed your fists, extremely concentrated. Your opponent waited without attacking, but behind the shield of his armour. Loki saw Thor smile proudly; this was the part he taught you. For your fire side of your powers, Thor was the one to train you thoroughly. Loki sighed, frustrated because you haven’t yet shown what Loki had taught you with such enthusiasm. He still observed you with attention.

“This part is awesome, look, brother”, whispered Thor in his ear, which only made him angrier.

“I’m sure it is. They is awesome. And wait until you see what I taught them”. Thor chuckled.

“No need for jealousy, Loki. They’s all yours”. Loki rolled his eyes and directed his attention to the fight again.

The sparks and wind grew bigger and bigger around you, circling your whole body. Once the sparks became fire, you directed your whole energy to your opponent, sending him against the wall. If it weren’t for the gigant fire-proof shield, he would’ve gotten completely roasted.

You put your guard down, and as you did so, the wind and fire around you dispersed. Loki got to see you again once the magic flew down, and realized you had your clothes slightly lifted up. He tried not to look out of respect, but Thor gasped, and that drew his attention directly to what surprised his brother. And it did not disappoint. Loki’s chest got as tight as it has ever been. His breathing became irregular and unsteady, and his face got completely red. You didn’t notice your shirt had lifted up, so you didn’t realize what was going on. You got closer to your defeated rival and shaked his hand.

“You win. I see you’ve been well trained”, he said.

“I have”, you answered, and directed your gaze to the princes who were watching the fight. You walked closer to them to chatter, as you always did, but Loki got up fast and ran out of the training room. Thor told you to follow him, and Loki heard your footsteps behind him for the entirety of the hall, until you two got to the gardens.

Loki was shaking. He didn’t want you to be there. He didn’t want you to see him that vulnerable. And you knew it, so you didn’t get closer than two meters apart.

“Loki”, you said after a while, behind his back. “What’s wrong?”.

He turned around, face still red. He was usually cold, but at that moment he was burning up inside and out. Maybe he was burning out of love for you. Maybe out of anger, for being so pessimistic and making himself a martyr when his brother was clearly right. Maybe out of rage to himself, for waiting so long to make a move and losing so much time lost in his own head. But you were still standing there, concerned. And he had to say something, because you still didn’t know anything.

“I saw your mark”, he stated. Now you were the one with the red face.

“Oh… I, I don’t, uh…”, you stuttered, and he got closer to you. He grabbed both of your hands and you looked at him in the eyes, clueless. “I try not to give it that much attention”.

“Why?”, he asked. “It’s your soulmate. The person you’ll love the most”.

“I already love someone” you said, in a burst of confidence. Loki swallowed in nervousness. Your hands started to get sweaty. “I… ugh. Sorry. I don’t want to say…”.

“Who? Tell me, I’m your best friend”.

“I don’t want you to be”, you finally said. “It’s you, Loki. It’s always been you. I don’t care about this stupid soulmate mark, because I know I’m in love with you and I always have been”.

Loki stayed silent, which only made your anxiety increase. He finally looked at you in the eyes and formed a subtle smile.

“I thought you loved Thor”.

“What? Why would I…?”.

“I heard you after the Ball; you said the prince you love was in love with Sif”.

“Yeah, you”.

“I’m… what? I’m not… I’m not in love with Sif, darling”.

Your heart stirred, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the pet name he just gave you, or the fact that you got it all wrong. He wasn’t in love with Sif?

“I’m sorry, did we both think…?”.

“We’re idiots, apparently”.

You both laughed. That was it; that cotidianity, that normality that felt, even in the most embarrassing and intense moments, completely fine. Because you were, before anything, friends.

You hugged him. He returned the hug and caressed your neck and back with one hand. You felt his heartbeat rise, and from that position, he whispered in your ear with that beautifully deep and raspy voice; “I saw your mark”.

“I don’t care about it. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, ignore my feelings if necessary. But my heart only beats for you”, you whispered back. He sank his nose on the crook of your neck and felt his mouth form a smile against your skin. You shivered and felt warmth in your stomach.

“I don’t want to ignore your feelings”.

“I love you”, you said once again, regretting it in that instant. You couldn't stop your words from falling out of your mouth. You felt like you sounded desperate.

“I love you too, my dear”.

You, in shock, looked at him in the eyes. He kept smiling, and putting a strand of your hair behind an ear, placed a small kiss on your red cheek.

“I don’t know what to do next. I like being your friend”, you said. “And I don’t think we’re meant to be. I got a mark, and you haven’t, so it’s obvious we won’t end up together anyways. And I want you by my side for all my life; even if it’s just as a friend, you know? I don’t want to lose you”. Loki chuckled at your rant. “What?”.

“What makes you think I didn’t get my mark yet?”.

“Well, I… I don’t know. Did you?”.

“Yes”.

“What does it look like?”.

He smiled.

“It’s very ambiguous”, said he, sarcastically.

“Hard to guess, is it?” you chuckled, realizing what was going on. Loki lifted his sleeve, uncovering an identical soulmate mark to yours.

“Hard to guess, yet so obvious”, he said. He grabbed your waist and neck and both melted in a long, desired kiss. You sank your fingers in his hair, caressing his scalp. “Yours?”

“It’s very ambiguous too, you know?”.

480 notes · View notes

chatonne-rousse · 3 years

Text

Be Bold, Be Kind, Be Brave

This is one akuma whose intentions are good. After all, who couldn't use an extra dose of courage to overcome fear?

A superhero whose identity will be immediately revealed in the process, for one.

When an akuma causes several secrets to come to light all at once, our heroes will need to drum up some courage to face their fears - and each other.

But what's waiting after that looks like it might be a dream come true. It'll just take a bit of bravery and a lot of heart. Piece of cake.

***

Only eight days late and several dollars short, I’m wishing @jennagrinsoverml a happy belated birthday with this gift, written just for her. ILY, my friend!

Read it on Ao3 here.

***

Ladybug has to give Courageous some credit: she's a rarity, an akuma born of selfless means. A teenager who hadn't mustered the courage to stand up for a younger student being bullied at school, she'd been so ashamed, so angry with herself, that Hawkmoth had found an easy target to ply with honeyed words and promises.

Her power isn't even a terrible one. The beam of light she shoots from her right hand simply causes the person it strikes to relive the last encounter they had when their bravery failed them, this time with courage aplenty. It's admirable, really.

Admirable, but terrifying nonethless.

(The fear of Chat Noir finding out her identity is deep and dark and often floats to the surface of her nightmares with blue eyes and white hair and a drowned, ruined world. He cannot know. The cost is too high.)

"Whatever you do," she calls to her partner, frantic and scared, "don't let her hit you! Please, Chat!"

She hears the desperation in her own voice, and the look on his face conveys that he certainly does. He nods solemnly.

"I'll do my best, My Lady."

She nods back, and off they go into the fray.

For well over an hour, they fight Courageous through parks and plazas, sidewalks and thoroughfares. All around them, the people of Paris have squared their shoulders, lifted their chins, and braved conversations big and small with people only they could see.

Ladybug has to smile as she hears a young man confidently ask for a raise and watches his eyes light up at the response.

That smile fades when she remembers once again that the last time her courage had failed her was just as they were dismissed for lunch break, when she'd tried to invite Adrien to a movie that weekend. His eyes had been so kind as he'd waited for her to gather her words properly, and somehow that had just made it harder.

Then Lila had "accidentally" tripped and knocked into her, sending her to the floor. The memory of Adrien's hand reaching out to her to help her up, those same kind, patient eyes locked on hers, makes Ladybug's cheeks heat even now. But after she was upright again, after Lila had stalked off because no one seemed to care that she "probably would need surgery now because her arthritis would flare", Nino had reminded Adrien about the gig he was DJing on Friday and Alya had led her away to show her something on her phone.

Just like that, her opportunity was gone.

And that would be fine, honestly. Marinette was used to moments of stuttering and botched declarations when it came to Adrien.

But if she's hit by Courageous, Chat Noir - plus the citizens of Paris, Hawkmoth, everyone - will hear Ladybug try to ask Adrien Agreste on a date, and that will be a disaster of epic proportions.

"Ladybug, look out!"

Chat's body slams into hers, sending them rolling on the sidewalk just as a beam of magical light zips over their heads. In a flash, Chat Noir bundles her in his arms and vaults them to the rooftop above, making sure she's steady on her feet once they land.

"Thank you, Ki-" The words die in her throat when she sees over her partner's shoulder that Courageous has followed them.

Chat turns, his baton at the ready, while Ladybug reaches for her yo-yo, but neither is quick enough to stop the akuma's beam from finally finding one of its main targets.

"I'm sorry, Bug," he murmurs as his eyes glaze over.

Using her yo-yo as a spinning shield, Ladybug drags her partner behind the nearest chimney stack just as he begins to speak.

Panic sets in as her mind screams at her over the hum of her yo-yo, the akuma's laughter, her partner's voice.

I can't just leave him!

"Father, may I come in?"

Oh no, oh no, oh no. I can't hear this!

"Yes, Nathalie said she penciled me into your schedule for noon."

Nathalie?

Ladybug's gaze snaps to her partner, yo-yo still spinning to deflect beams of light. She's surprised to find Chat Noir's head bowed in deference, though his eyes shine with a confident gleam.

"I requested this appointment to ask you again if I could attend the event with my friends tomorrow evening. I've already completed my assignments for school and the homework from my Mandarin tutor."

Mandarin tutor? What?!

"Yes, Father, I'm aware that you don't care for Nino, but..."

The panicked scream in her mind gives up any attempt at coherence; by this point, it's no more than a muddled loop of Nathalie, Mandarin, Nino, Father.

Ladybug feints to the left to avoid being hit by the akuma as a mix of terror and adrenaline floods her system. She leaps forward, leaving Chat behind the chimney in the hope that she can engage the akuma just long enough to get her partner back and finally, finally finish this off.

She knows too much already. The cat has bolted straight out of the bag and is running loose on this rooftop beneath her feet, a distraction she can't handle right now.

On hero autopilot, she hurdles one beam after another, then tucks and rolls and pops up to roundhouse kick Courageous in the chest, sending her flying.

She hears the akuma's "oof" just as Chat Noir's jubilant voice rings out from behind the chimney.

"Thank you, Father! Thank you so much!"

She can hear his grin in those simple words, the sheer joy in being given permission to leave the house. Everyone in their class knows what a tight leash Gabriel Agreste keeps on his son. It breaks her heart every time she thinks of it. In fact, she's successfully fought for his release from that marble prison on more than one occasion! So yes, she'd already known with all the clues in place, but there was truly no mistaking it now: that was Adrien talking to his father.

Because Adrien is Chat Noir.

Her heart cracks. Oh, Chaton.

Suddenly, the akuma's progress in clambering to her feet is impeded by the whoosh and subsequent metallic thunk of Chat's overhand swing with his baton.

Relief floods her heart at the return of her partner. No matter who he is, Chat Noir is her other half, and Ladybug is never quite herself without him.

"Maybe we could use a little extra luck, My Lady!" Chat winks at her over his shoulder before facing the akuma again.

"Yes! Right! You bet!"

Get it together, Marinette, she thinks. Her face heats and she scampers away to the safety of the chimney stack where Chat was hidden to call for her lucky charm.

A red and black spotted can opener drops into her hands and she looks at it in confusion. "What am I supposed to do with this?" she grumbles, looking around frantically but seeing nothing to help her decipher how to use the lucky charm.

She takes a deep breath, peeks out from behind the bricks, and promptly takes a light beam to the face.

No, no, no, no!

It feels vaguely like having a water balloon popped on her head, a chill of sensation dripping down her spine and rippling through her nerves. It's a small mercy that being hit by an akuma rarely hurts physically. Her vision swims like a mirage in the desert, the familiar courtyard at school coalescing from vapor around her.

The last thing she sees is her partner's stricken face.

The last thing she hears is the akuma cackling.

"Heylo! Who! I mean," she takes a deep breath, a rush of confidence tingling along her nerves. "Hey, Adrien!" She smiles and gives him a little wave.

His grin takes her breath away. "Hi, Marinette! How are you?"

"I'm great!"

You can do it, you can do it!, her heart sings, and miraculously, her brain listens. Her smile turns coy. She taps her lip with her index finger. Her pulse pounds a bolstering tattoo in her ears. Go for it, girl!

"But I could be better."

Adrien's smile drops a fraction. "Are you okay? Is there something I can do?"

With another deep breath, she squares her shoulders and looks him in the eyes, her very cells imbued with a courage unparalleled even when she's wearing spots. She could do anything, anything, right now, but she has her mind set on accomplishing one thing and one thing only.

"You could join me for a movie on Saturday."

"I could...?" His brows furrow, but his grin grows slowly, bright but incredulous. "Are you asking me....?" He blinks, takes two shallow breaths. "Do you mean just the two of us?"

She nods decisively. "A date."

You did it. You did it! A veritable party erupts in the back of her mind, radiant relief spreading to her fingertips. It feels so good to finally break through her anxiety and fear and ask him that simple question that felt like an impossible task just a few hours ago.

Thankfully, he doesn't keep her waiting. The answer is in his eyes, anyway. "I would love to," he breathes, cheeks pink and smile dazzling.

"Really?" Marinette squeaks, and now it's his turn to nod.

"I'll be there even if I have to sneak out." Adrien reaches for her hand and gives it a little squeeze. "We'll talk about it later today, okay?"

She nods again, her chest so full of emotion she can barely breathe. Not only did she ask him, but he said yes!

Suddenly, blue sky fills her vision and she regains awareness to the sound of a scuffle on the other side of the chimney stack. Ladybug tentatively gets to her feet, reaching for her yo-yo and setting it spinning immediately. This time there's no peeking around the corner; she bursts from behind the bricks on the offensive, ready to finish the fight.

What she finds is Courageous struggling under Chat's baton, twisted up like a pretzel and unable to move for the steel-toed boot resting across her shoulders.

"Just in time, LB!" Chat crows triumphantly. He tosses her a bracelet emblazoned with the words Be Bold, Be Kind, Be Brave that currently pulses with Hawkmoth's dark energy.

In moments, the bracelet is broken, the akuma is freed and purified, and a confused teenager sits where Courageous was restrained a moment ago.

Chat docks his baton at his back and looks at his partner with the softest eyes she's ever seen, a tiny, equally soft smile playing at his lips.

Her heart sighs. Adrien. That's Adrien, and he knows.

The lucky charm sits heavy in her palm. Abject fear makes her hope against hope that she won't remember his identity when she casts her miraculous cure, just as her heart longs to hold on to the knowledge that her precious partner is the boy of her deepest desires, and maybe, maybe they really can have it all.

With a deep breath, she throws the unused can opener into the air, watching magical ladybugs and healing light burst forth and spread throughout the city. She waits, holding her breath, but when pink light swirls around them, the only affect it has is the healing of the twinge in her ankle from when she fell mid-fight.

She looks up, and her partner's eyes say it all.

He remembers, too.

Even as fear grips her heart, radiant joy shines from his face as his grin spreads. It scrunches his eyes behind the mask and pinkens his cheeks, delight seeming to glow from his pores. Ladybug has never seen her partner so happy. That elation is a balm to her soul, and she can't help but smile right along with him.

Ladybug turns to the akuma victim and holds out her hand, offering the bracelet back to her. "I really like that inscription" she says, pointing at the now-silver bracelet as the girl fixes it back on her wrist.

She smiles shyly at the two heroes. "I wish I had the courage to do more. I wish I was brave like you."

"We get scared sometimes, too. Everyone does," Ladybug starts, before her partner nudges her shoulder with his elbow.

"Speak for yourself, Bugaboo. This cat has no fear." Chat Noir throws her an exaggerated wink, and the girl laughs. "But real talk, anyone can be a hero in their own way. Little things, big stuff...you're stronger than you think, I promise. Cat's honor."

She nods. "Thank you for, you know, saving me and everything." Glancing at the street below, she gestures toward the edge of the roof. "Would it be too much trouble to get me back down there?"

"Not at all," Ladybug replies with a smile. Calling on her own courage, she looks at her partner and takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing, she thinks. "The usual spot in five? Or less, I guess, since it...doesn't matter now," she says with a shrug that she hopes looks nonchalant.

And there's that smile that shines like the summer sun. He gives her a jaunty salute. "I'll be there with bells on," he says, tapping the bell at his throat and making it jingle.

Ladybug just shakes her head and giggles.

A few minutes later, when she lands beside Chat Noir on their familiar rooftop, her earrings are beeping a frantic rhythm, signaling mere seconds before she detransforms. Instinct has her looking around the roof, ready to dart behind anything she can use to hide.

Before she can move, Chat steps toward her and quietly asks, "Marinette?"

Her transformation dissolves in a wave of pink light, and she hears him gasp as she catches Tikki gently in her palms. Marinette takes her time retrieving a macaron from her purse to feed her kwami, deliberately moving slowly in an attempt to get herself under control before she looks up at her partner. He knows, and he's thrilled, and that's amazing, but it feels like the entire world will change when their gazes finally meet, and she's just not ready yet.

"I, um...I didn't use my cataclysm, so I can stay transformed if you'd prefer, but..." he trails off.

There's something in his voice that finally makes her look at him. Just like when he talked to his father under the akuma's control, his head is bowed slightly, but instead of confidence, this time his eyes are bright with nervous hope.

Marinette understands both the nerves and the hope, and she'll joke with her partner until the end of time about who's in charge, but it feels wrong for either Chat or Adrien to look at her with uneasy deference.

And that's what she thinks of as courage wells in her chest. Her brave, steadfast partner, the other half of their unstoppable team, the boy with terrible timing who can still make her laugh, her best friend whom she loves so fiercely, should never feel he has to approach her in fear.

"Oh, Minou," she breathes. "Of course, go ahead. I...I already know."

He nods and stands a little straighter, and with a whisper and a flash of green, Chat's magical leather is replaced with denim and cotton poplin.

Predictably, her brain is short-circuiting, hollering in panic and terror, but even as her heart pounds wildly in her chest, it whispers quietly, gently, that this is her partner. Her silly kitty. Her dearest friend. He just happens to look like Adrien Agreste at the moment.

(Okay, this is going to take some getting used to.)

Tikki flies off to join Plagg nearby, while Marinette sits down on the roof with her knees pulled to her chest. She pats the space to her right and Adrien settles in cross-legged next to her.

He's the first to break the silence. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I shouldn't have gotten hit. I shouldn't have let you get hit. I know this wasn't what you wanted, and-"

"No, no, don't apologize," she interrupts, shaking her head. "It happens. It's...not the first time." Marinette sighs and closes her eyes, suddenly feeling a lot less courageous in the face of this world-bending change now that they're in their civilian clothes and it's Adrien apologizing to her. She presses her forehead to her knees and tries to imagine the boy beside her in magical leather and cat ears. It only helps a little, but it's enough. "We, um-" she pauses, licks her lips. "We have a lot to talk about. I just don't know if I'm ready for...all of it."

Adrien is silent for an uncomfortably long moment. "Yeah. We do." She hears him take a deep breath that shakes a bit on the exhale and turns her head a fraction to peek at him. His eyes are on the distant horizon. "I...think I understand some things now."

Abruptly, he turns toward her, a little smile tilting the corners of his mouth when he his eyes meet hers. Fear tells her to look away, but she tamps it down and holds his gaze. His smile widens.

"May I ask you something, Marinette?"

She nods.

"When you came up to me at lunch today, were you...planning to ask me on a date?"

Her pulse pounds in her ears. She could give in to fear, say no and brush it off like Chat had misheard her when she was under the akuma's spell. But suddenly her heartbeat seems to drum, "be bold, be kind, be brave," over and over again, and just as the smile begins to slip from his face, she finds the nerve to nod again.

Just like on the other rooftop a few minutes ago, his face lights up like the first rays of sun after a week of rain, shining splendid even in the early afternoon light.

"Am I--" he whispers, his breath hitching though his joy never dims, "Am I the boy?"

Be bold, be kind, be brave.

She calls on her Ladybug courage and nods once more.

His breath catches again and his eyes fill with tears that he brushes away quickly.

Clarity dawns all of a sudden, sweeping her fears to the corners of her mind to be dealt with later. She understood Chat Noir being happy to know his partner's identity, his excitement in finding out his Lady was his friend, too. But this is so much more. Beside her sits Adrien, wiping tears of joy from his eyes at the knowledge that Marinette is in love with him. This might just be a dream coming true on a random rooftop on a random Thursday afternoon.

"Chaton," she breathes, stretching her legs in front of her and placing a hand on his knee.

His hand covers hers, and she meets his gaze, words caught in her throat at the intensity in his eyes.

"I have a confession to make." He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand and takes a deep breath. "I think everyone in Paris knows that Chat Noir is in love with Ladybug. I...know you know." He shrugs as his smile turns a little helpless. "But no one knows that I might have a little tiny bit of a huge crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, too."

"Kid, don't lie to your girlfriend. You know very well that I knew, because I've been telling you forever!" Plagg calls from somewhere behind them. Tikki hushes him loudly.

"Okay, he's not wrong," Adrien says, huffing out a combination of a laugh and a sigh. I'm just very stupid, apparently."

"Hey, don't talk that way about my partner." Marinette bumps his shoulder with hers. "I have a teeny, tiny, huge crush on him, too, you know, and I don't appreciate your tone."

Adrien's surprised laugh rings out across the rooftop, filling her heart with so much love she can barely breathe with the force of it. She could listen to that laugh for the rest of her life. She hopes she'll have that chance.

He brushes tears from his eyes again as his laughter subsides, his grin still shining bright. "I'm so happy it's you, Marinette. Beyond happy." He turns her hand beneath his and threads his fingers through hers. "Honestly, there's no one else I would rather have as my partner."

"Me too, Minou," she murmurs, squeezing his hand lightly as incredulous joy sings through her veins.

Tikki's little voice pipes up nearby. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's almost time to go back to class."

Adrien lets go of her hand to fish for his phone and curses under his breath when he sees the time. "She's right, My Lady. Could we meet up this evening? I know we have, um...a lot of things to talk about."

Marinette nods. It feels like she's done a lot of that in the last few minutes.

When Adrien stands, he offers his hand to help her up. Just like in the courtyard at lunch, his eyes are patient and kind, but now they shine with something more. She lets him pull her to her feet, then wraps her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

His soft exhale at her ear as he melts against her makes her smile, scrunching up his white overshirt under her cheek. Her senses are filled with him, and she's surprised to realize that it's a feeling of comfort and safety instead of the usual panic.

Maybe loving Adrien and being loved in return will be easier than it seemed all this time. Her fears seem so silly when his arms are wrapped around her shoulders and his head rests on top of hers - a perfect fit.

Even the nightmarish terror of Chat Blanc is diminished. Adrien never told anyone her identity; he knew because he himself was Chat Noir, and there's no way in the world that Chat would hurt his Lady, nor would Adrien ever harm Marinette on purpose. She must have misunderstood. He must have misunderstood. He was an akuma, after all. She sighs into Adrien's shirt. She can never allow that terrible timeline to occur, but whatever happens after this, they'll face it together. Stronger. She'll make sure of it.

"Do you think my father will let me go to Nino's gig in real life?" he asks quietly.

The sad note in his voice breaks her heart. She squeezes him tighter.

"I don't know, Kitty. Do you think we'll be having a movie date on Saturday?"

He leans back abruptly, though his hands still grip her shoulders. "Of course! I'll be there if I have to sneak out!"

Marinette boops his nose, laughing when his eyes cross. "I think that's your answer for Friday night, too."

Suddenly she's in his arms again, this time lifted off the ground and spinning. She can't help but giggle.

"I knew I was in love with a genius!" he cries, jubilant. He sets her down and plants a kiss in the middle of her forehead before calling for Plagg to transform him.

When he turns his masked face back to her, it's like the world is different. She can easily see the brilliant green of Adrien's eyes in Chat's glowing sclerae. The blending of two of her favorite people into one extraordinary boy who - oh my goodness - just said he loves her gives her a shot of courage even before she suits up again.

"You missed, beau gosse."

His eyes widen comically. "I....what?"

Marinette smiles and calls for her transformation, then taps her lips with her gloved fingers. "You kissed me, but you missed."

The sly gleam in his eyes makes her breathing speed up.

"First of all, I would ask before I did that," Chat says, sticking out his thumb before raising his clawed index finger. "Second, I thought I'd save our first kiss for Saturday. Seems like a great way to end our first date, doesn't it?"

Our first date. A tingle runs down her spine. She likes the sound of that.

"I guess I can wait." Her smile turns cheeky. "But it'll be our third--"

"Ah, ah, ah," Chat cuts her off with a grin. He extends his thumb again. "First of all, I don't remember either of those."

Ladybug rolls her eyes, still smiling.

"And second," he says, his voice pitching lower and making her heart skip a beat, "it will be Marinette and Adrien's first kiss."

Oh, this boy, she thinks as her heart soars.

She bites her lip to keep from giggling. "I suppose you're right, even though we both know we're the same people."

Chat gives her a deadpan look. "Just let me have this, Bug."

She bursts into laughter and reaches for her yo-yo, delighting in watching a grin light her partner's face.

"I really am looking forward to Saturday," he says, unhooking his baton from his back. He reaches for her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "We'll talk about it later today, okay?"

She nods and watches him vault off toward home.

The wind against her face is exhilarating as she swings back to the bakery. It's amazing how one revelation seems to have changed everything. Even the zip of her yo-yo through the air sounds different to her ears now that she knows, now that he knows.

Marinette detransforms as she touches down on the terrace and sinks into her pink-striped chair while Tikki phases through the hatch into her room in search of food. A quick check of her phone tells her that she has ten minutes before she has to go back to school.

School. One more thing that's going to be different.

Before nerves can creep in, she thinks of Chat Noir and his beaming joy at learning the identity of his beloved partner. That was Adrien. She thinks of the comfort of being wrapped in Adrien's arms, his scent, his warmth. That was Chat Noir.

And when she sits down in class behind him in a few short minutes, that boy with the soft smile and shining eyes will look like Adrien, but now he's so much more.

Marinette stands up from her chair with a lighter heart than she can remember having in a long, long time. She's suddenly looking forward to the second half of the day, even more excited for Nino's event tomorrow night, and positively thrilled that she has a date with Adrien - who is Chat Noir! - on Saturday.

There's so much to experience, so many memories to be made. It feels a bit like a dream. It feels more than a bit scary. But it's going to be great.

It's just going to take a little courage.

She's got this.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fan fiction #identity reveal #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #ml fic #ml fanfic #adrienette #my writing #happy birthday jenna!#the real power move is posting this on an episode premiere day #thanks for reading it anyway

86 notes · View notes

bluegarners · 3 years

Text

hiya @viceturtle! I finally got it done! Here is your Bad Things Happen Bingo request with Dick and Jason; you can also read it on ao3

What Have I Done?

It’s a lot. He’s not going to lie.

Dick was dead for eight months. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. It was a fact that they were all forced to deal with, all forced to live with. Dick was dead and there was nothing any of them could do about it. And for a time, Jason had held onto the small belief, he’s not going to call it hope, that Dick had somehow managed to pull through. That even despite the beatings, the torture, everything before and after it, Dick had managed to pull through and come out of it all alive.

But he hadn’t. That was the thing, at its core. Dick died.

Jason knows what it is to be dead. To be beaten and left to die. To struggle and still search for a way out of the shit hole you’re suddenly in and cling to that light, that stupid, stupid promise in the back of your head that screams, Help is coming, just hold on a little longer, that forces you to keep struggling, keep surviving, keep hoping for a way out despite the circumstances. Jason knows and it absolutely sucked.

He died and then clawed his way out of his own coffin. One of his fingers is permanently misshapen, wood chips and metal piercing through his stiff and cold skin. He’s got scars all over his body to prove that he died, to prove that he was beaten with a crowbar, messed around with like he was just some dummy, some thing that could take a beating and then some. Up and down and across and lined; the scars are all over him and he died.

And Dick died too.

In those eight months, Jason felt more connected to his deceased older brother than he ever had before. A deep and twisted connection over a shared death, a similar fate so convoluted it makes Jason sick to think about sometimes. His murderer is still out there. Jason has to live with that fact and even though it’s not fine and things would be so much easier without that psychopath, Jason gets it. Sometimes. Gets the moral code, the compass, that shrouds Batman and his little followers.

And he’s trying. He is. He made an effort to try and do the right thing when Dick died because suddenly, the role of older brother had fallen onto him and even though he doesn’t have a good relationship with Tim or the recently resurrected Damian, or anyone for that matter, there was still that recognition that it was all on him now. He was the eldest. He was the one to look towards. Not look up to, no, he will never claim the title of a role model, but now he’s the oldest, the most experienced, the next in line when one just can’t go to Bruce about shit going on.

The point being is that he did try, put in more effort than he probably should have, to stepping up to the plate and taking a swing at being better. At being the eldest of the entire brood and not fucking it up horribly. He switches to rubber bullets and smoke pellets. He keeps his excessive violence reserved for only the worst scum and even then still attempts to steer clear from Batman’s territories. He takes care of the Narrows, rekindles a sort of friendship with Tim, doesn’t fight the literal child that lurks in the Cave, and avoids confrontations with Bruce altogether.

It works and it’s good. He steps up, frankly owns being the eldest, and he’s fine. He’s fine with it. He’s still got his reputation intact, Red Robin isn’t terrified of his presence any longer, and Robin doesn’t pull a sword every time they spot one another. So what if he slips up occasionally and gets carried away? They’re just rubber bullets, weapons all the same, and they’re no different from getting hit with Batman’s fist (which Jason knows, from experience, hurts like hell) or getting swung at with a large knife.

He had a thing going on, is what Jason’s trying to get at, and then Dick showed up.

Dick. Richard Grayson. Who died eight months ago after he was tortured by the Syndicate and had his heart stopped by Lex Luthor. Who they had a funeral for. Who they mourned for. Who Jason had attempted to fill the gaping hole he had left behind.

Who Jason thought had died.

Betrayal is a word Jason feels like he could apply to a majority of his life. Betrayal from his parents, his poor, poor mother who just couldn’t muster up enough fucks. Bruce, Batman, for getting him into the vigilante life, for letting him wear that damn costume and get himself blown up for all his efforts. Talia, for restoring his mind after he was supposed to be dead. Bruce, Batman, again, for letting his murderer walk around like it was another Sunday, any other day, just a nice, normal day for a stroll like he didn’t just kill Bruce’s own son-

Yeah, Jason feels like he has liberal use of betrayal. It’s just an old song he hums sometimes and lets others join in occasionally.

But there was an unspoken code, a silent right-of-passage, when it came to being Robin. A mutual understanding of sorts. You don’t back-stab another Robin. Ever. You don’t lie, cheat out, betray a fellow Robin. There were too many shared experiences when it came to being Batman’s, Bruce’s, Robin and that ultimately revolved all back to trust and knowing that things were still the same despite all these years. Being Robin was both the best thing to ever happen to someone and also the ultimate death sentence. You don’t just get to be Robin either. You’ve got to earn it, to prove yourself, to show that you can take it all on, to keep up with Batman and the ever changing and violent Gotham.

So, when Dick shows up with an apology on his lips and the expectation of being welcomed home after all this time, Jason punches him square in the jaw. It’s surreal, a part of him thinking his fist will just phase right through the man’s face, but his knuckles connect and if the sound of his fist against Dick’s jaw isn’t the most satisfying and cruel thing he’s ever heard, Jason doesn’t know what is.

It’s agony, nearly, to see the red blossom on his older brother’s cheek because, holy hell, that means it’s all real. That Dick is really alive and not still buried in that weed covered yard with decaying roses scattered on top of it. Dick is alive and Jason is furious because he’s supposed to be dead and Jason already tried so hard to fill the other man’s impossibly huge shoes and he was doing a damn good job at it. He likes to think so, at least.

But who cares, right? Who gives a shit when Dick is back now and it was all for nothing? Everyone can just go back to their normal routines now that the star player is back and they don’t need a fill-in like Jason to stick around. All that effort, all that time, all that trying all summing up into one big, Surprise, I’m not dead, from the man of the hour himself.

Jason avoids Dick after that. The man said he wasn’t staying long, just “checking in” with everyone like he was just on some business call for a few months and not dead.

And that’s the root of it, Jason thinks. That’s what really gnaws at him because Dick is treating the whole situation exactly like he was on some extended vacation and just forgot to tell anyone where he was going. Not like his absence literally turned their entire world upside down. Not like the loss, the emptiness, that literally echoed everywhere Jason went was consuming and terrifying. In those eight months, Jason had to toe the line between being the eldest and maintaining his identity as Red Hood, and that’s where Jason truly felt close to Dick. Felt like he finally got what Dick and Bruce’s arguments were about so many years ago, this constant war of wanting to be better, wanting to have freedom, wanting to stay yourself when there was a constant war of others trying to get you to fill a role that you don’t want.

Finally, Jason felt like he had some other important connection to his elusive older brother that had nothing to do with the man that housed them, only for it all to be thrown across the room and into the trash.

To keep it simple, bare-bones, really dumbed down, Dick lied. About being dead, of all things. Jason can get behind needing to lay low after all that, being stripped of your identity on live television wasn’t exactly great for their kind of lifestyle, but to just leave? To go out on some mission and leave the rest of them out to dry like that? No warning, no hints, no notes, nothing? God, at least Jason made an appearance. Granted, not the best sort of re-introduction, but at least he wasn’t trying to hide.

To say the least, Jason is hurting. The anger faded along with any sort of need to prove to Dick that he had stepped up when he left. Now, he just feels… shitty. In a way, this is what he had been half-way expecting. No one stays dead in this business. There is always someone with a back-up or ex-machina to save the day and bring back a fallen hero, villain, whatever. But there had just been something so final, so human in Dick’s death. In that moment, seeing the mask ripped off, seeing his brother’s face on T.V out of context, away from the normal flashiness that was being related to a billionaire, it had scared Jason because that was his brother, Dick Grayson, world’s most annoying man in the universe, on T.V; beaten, bloodied, bruised, and humiliated for everyone to see.

He’s always been jealous of how clean and clear Dick’s eyes looked. Just a simple and rare shade of blue, obnoxiously bright and searching. Jason’s mother used to say he had his father’s eyes, a muddy mix of blue and green. He’s never liked his eyes, but there was always something so attention grabbing with Dick’s. Seeing them on T.V, wide and blood-shot and bruised to hell; the blue was out of place and humanizing in a way that Jason just couldn't describe because it was simply Dick Grayson there. Not Nightwing. Not a hero. It was just Dick Grayson, world’s worst older brother ever, looking lost, defiant, and defeated all at once.

And that hurt.

The man is like some nasty disease that won’t leave him alone though. Their first meeting was two days ago and Jason is trying his best to ignore the knife in his chest, not literally, when Dick shows up. Just outside the Narrows on the roof of a bodega, Dick appears from where ever the fuck he’s been and walks over to Jason. It’s a cue, Jason knows, when thunder rumbles in the distance and if he were a bit more into literature, feeling a bit more melancholy for his freshman year of high school, Jason would say that a storm is coming for the both of them, not just Gotham.

Dick walks with his hands in his pockets, stuffed inside an old brown jacket that looks well-used and well-loved. Jason’s never seen the jacket before. Must’ve gotten it on his extended vacation. A part of Jason knows that Bruce was in on it too, that Bruce probably deserves just as much anger he’s dishing out towards Dick, maybe even more, but Jason’s tired of trying to play nice and get along. Dick is the one in front of him now, right here on a Wednesday night with the glowing, neon advertisement for Coke singing behind their heads and a run down, twenty year old convenience shop beneath their feet.

Dick is here and now when he should be dead.

Just like Jason should be.

“What do you want?” he asks, the metallic tin of his voice modulator diminishing some of the threat. It’s a known fact that Red Hood guards his territory with a viciousness rivaling a rabid dog. Outsiders aren’t welcome. Never welcome.

In contrast, Dick is mask-less. Civilian. Same clear blue eyes from eight months ago that were sealed shut the last time Jason saw them. A dark bruise stains Dick’s right cheekbone, the shape of knuckles and betrayal. It’s a good contrast.

“I came to say goodbye,” the other man answers, stopping just short of six feet in front of Jason, “and that I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. I really am,” he insists when Jason remains silent. “Things just… happened too fast. It killed me to be away from you all for so long. I wanted to tell you, I did-”

“Really?” Jason interrupts lowly. “It killed you, huh?”

Dick sighs, a hand coming up to brush through his hair. “That’s not what I meant. You know it’s not.”

“I don’t know, Dicky. Times are changing, you know. One minute, you’re the star pupil, and the next I’m your backup. And now,” Jason shrugs, letting his hand come up to rest on the holster he keeps on his hip, “I’m not so sure about that.”

Dick is eyeing Jason like he’s looking at something he doesn’t like. Something that’s leaving a bad taste in his mouth. But that’s just something he’s going to have to deal with, isn’t it? Suck it up buttercup, and all that.

A laugh erupts from Jason as he truly takes it all in. “You know,” he chuckles, nothing humorous causing his mirth, “you really had me there for awhile. I bought you flowers, went to your funeral, dealt with all that shit, and yet here you are. In the flesh.” He laughs again, fingers curving steadily around the grip of his gun. “I think I liked you better dead, Dick.”

The older man frowns, brow dipping into a neat crease. Not a single wrinkle on his perfect, tan, not dead face. “The situation was unavoidable,” he says, like he actually believes a word he utters. “Batman needed a guy on the inside. The, hm, circumstances leading up to that set it up so that I could be that guy. It wasn’t exactly my choice to stay dead, Jay.”

“Names,” Jason snarks, that same anger he felt two days ago rearing its ugly head again. “You know, you say you didn’t have a choice, but I think there’s a clear distinction between dead and alive, don’t you? It might just be me, who knows because fuck if I do, but I think a warning woud’ve sufficed. A fucking warning. ”

Something must click in Dick’s head as his frown deepens. His hands are out of his jacket pockets now. They’re both tense.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says. “Maybe another month. Two at most. When I get back, I’ll try and…” Dick trails off there, as if searching for the right words, but Jason doesn’t have the patience for him to find the right way to say the same bullshit he’s already heard before.

He’s so tired. So, so tired.

“We were fine without you,” he snarls, relishing in the way Dick’s eyes widen at the claim. “The world doesn’t stop turning just because you decide to go off on a little adventure. Newsflash, asshole: None of us need you. You can’t come back here and expect everything to fall back to the way things were just because you decide it’s time to show your face again.”

“I was doing what I thought was right,” Dick snaps back. “Look, I’m sorry you had to step up and be a decent person for once-”

“And there it is,” Jason growls, unholstering his gun. “You think you’re so much better than me. You’re just so goddamn smug you can’t even see your own mistakes. What, is my being here just too inconvenient for you? Can’t make all the little hero-worshipers fall back into line like they used to?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth. I did what I thought was best for everyone and I paid the price for it.”

Jason lunges, cutting the feet between them into inches. “What was best?” he yells, swinging with one fist and aiming with the other. “Who the hell are you to decide that?”

Dick retaliates, pushing away Jason with a kick that connects to his armored chest. It’s barely a glancing blow though and he’s charging forwards again, squeezing the trigger as a shot rings off into the air, missing Dick’s foot by a few centimetres. Another crack of thunder resounds in the distance and a bolt of lightning cracks open the dark sky. Dick rolls away from Jason’s tackle, on the balls of his feet and ready to jump away again.

“I didn’t come here to fight you,” Dick tries, widening his stance. “I just came to, god, I don’t know, Jay. I didn’t ask for this!”

“Cut the bull,” Jason says, raising his gun again. He’s got it trained on Dick’s mid-section and even though a part of him knows he’s not going to take the shot, another part of him has his finger itching towards the trigger. “None of us asked for any of the fuckery that comes our way, but we deal with it, right? I’m dead, you’re dead, the brat’s dead, we’re all dead!”

There’s another crack of thunder, one that brings the rain with it. It pours, instantly drenching the pair, and a sheet of gray divides them. There’s surely something poetic about it, the divide that surrounds them both, but Jason’s not one to dwell long.

“Well, I’m not dead anymore!” Dick screams through the rain. “I am alive! I’ve been dead for eight months and I don’t want to fucking be anymore! I want to come home, Jay. I am alive. Goddamnit, I am alive!”

“So why didn’t you tell us that? Tell any of us that? All of this, that’s on you , Dick. You want to know why there wasn’t a big fucking parade for you? Why no one was fighting over the chance to be the first one to get to shake your hand? It’s because we don’t trust you anymore. No one fucking wants you near them because that’s how badly you fucked up.”

He must strike a nerve because Jason sees something crumple on Dick’s face.

“I didn’t- I didn’t want to leave you guys, Jay. God, you’ve got to believe me on that. I had no choice. It was either I leave and do this for Batman or-”

That same anger rises up again. Anger from different directions, different thoughts, but ultimately because it’s about Batman. Always, always about Batman. What he wants. What he needs you to do. Because if you don’t do it, and someone dies, it’s your fault. And Dick has always been the suck-up, the one to come when called, because even after all their spats and all these years of silence between them, Dick was still a Robin first and goddamnit if Jason doesn’t understand that. He hates that he understands that need to please Batman, to do what he asks in the hope of just some tiny ounce of praise or acknowledgment, but Dick is a grown adult. He’s not Robin anymore.

None of them are.

Dick takes a step forward and Jason squeezes the trigger, feeling the recoil in his wrist as Dick freezes, the bullet breezing right past his armpit. His eyes are wide, finally taking the weapon in as it is, and there must be some realization going off inside Dick’s head because now he’s the one charging in, stance low and shifty, and Jason’s on the defense now. His finger is still on the trigger, just barely, and he’s raising it to aim again when a flying round-house knocks the gun from his hand and fist drives under his chin. It disorients him a bit because, damn, he didn’t actually expect Dick to fight back, Jason was trying to get him to go away, but now they’re both serious. They’re both dangerous.

It’s a no-weapons brawl, just fists and dirty kicks and the rain is still pounding away against the bodega. The rain has plastered Dick’s hair to his skull and Jason is grateful for his helmet because it’s clear the water is making it difficult for the older man to see. He takes advantage of this, striking down with his elbow on Dick’s trapezius and quickly hooking his left foot around his ankle. It works for a split second, Dick thrown off and unbalanced, before Dick is tumbling down and using his own momentum to pull Jason down with him.

They’re on their backs now, rough and cold cement bleeding through their jackets, and the neon Coke sign flickers in and out as thunder continues to roll and shake the world.

“You should’ve stayed dead,” Jason snarls, taking a jab at his older brother’s face. “You should’ve never come back.”

Dick frees one of his hands from underneath the massive bulk of Jason’s suit, palm striking the sides of his helmet. “Take off the godamn hood and say that to my face,” Dick pants, shoving one of his knees into Jason’s side. “Look me in the eye and tell me you want me dead, Jay. Tell me you want me dead. ”

Another bolt of lightning splits the dark and its image refracts against the many puddles, and for a moment, the light sears into Jason’s eyes. He flinches against the burn and it’s enough hesitation for Dick to take the unguarded moment and flip Jason, crouching with one knee on his chest and the other digging into Jason’s forearm. They’re both breathing heavily, exhausted both physically and mentally, and he doesn’t bother to stop his brother as Dick reaches down and shoves the helmet off of his face.

Their eyes meet and Jason squints up at clear blue. Yeah, he hates that color. Hates it so much it feels like something ugly in his stomach, coiling and clenching. They’re both frowning but Dick just looks resigned. Jason hates that too. Now that he has the chance, he can see new scars on his brother’s face. New, finer lines and white and pink discoloration.

Funny how eight months can make someone look so much older.

��I wish you had stayed dead,” Jason finally says, hating himself all the more for it. “I wish you had never come back.”

Dick stumbles off of him and there’s a thin trail of red leaking from one of his eyebrows that keeps getting washed away. Jason doesn’t even remember hitting him there, but he must’ve been excessive. Must’ve over-done it. Just another thing he’s managed to fuck up. Check it off the list.

He sits up, feeling the ache of a sore back and numerous bruises, and watches as his brother leans heavily against the poles of the advertisement. The rain only seems to come down harder, bouncing off the yellow stained bodega roof. He gets to his feet slowly, careful to keep an eye on the slouching man, and treads over to pick up his helmet. His gun is closer to the bright neon sign and when he gets near enough, Dick looks up, something horribly heavy and sad, settling into his face.

“Okay,” is all he says, nodding once. “Okay, Jay.”

Dick reaches into his jacket pocket once more, fiddling with something, but Jason’s too preoccupied putting his helmet back on to really pay attention to it. They’re done fighting. Done with whatever all of that was. His hair is soaked, his jacket is going to have a layer of mildew on it in the morning, and Jason is tired. Beat. He can’t find the will-power to truly be bothered with anything else.

This is his territory so he’s not technically fleeing, but that’s what it looks like. Tail between his legs, off to lick his wounds, Jason’s sure that’s what Dick is thinking (he knows that’s not true, he knows this, and he’s got a little secret screaming, pounding away in the back of his skull, but Jason’s too burned out to deal with it, to address it). He walks to the edge of the roof with his back turned on his older brother, his alive and breathing, long lost brother, and jumps off, sliding down the fire escape and landing on the grimy streets below. His boots squelch in the rain, and there’s water logged into his socks, but Jason ignores it in favor of staring ahead. Refusing to look back.

Here’s the thing about being a Robin that everyone who’s been one before knows.

You rely on each other. There’s no codependency, not really, but there is a certain degree of reliance on past and current Robins. Robin is the inspiration. Not Batman. Batman doesn’t inspire little kids to go out in the night and get punched in the face and witness cruelty so awful you have nightmares for years after. Batman doesn’t inspire light and forgiveness and mercy; that’s all Robin’s doing. The bright colors, the chatter, the youth. That’s all on Robin, the little child weapons they are, and the shared experience of being that for Batman is a bond that runs so much deeper than blood. Thick and interwoven and relied upon so much more heavily than a simple crest or uniform.

And here’s that screaming secret that vibrates inside Jason’s skull: he’s happy Dick’s back. That Dick’s alive. At the end of the day, Dick was the first Robin, the first light, and having him snuffed out was a world that got three shades darker, bleaker. It was Dick’s Robin that truly gave it the twinge of hope all the Robins after carry with them; he was the model, the mold, they shaped themselves after. Him being dead changed that perspective for the worse because the first Robin made it. That’s what was so important, what tips the scales for the confidence of all Robins after. Dick made it. Survived being Robin, survived past Robin, and became his own hero.

Dick outlived being Robin and that was the ultimate goal. To survive.

So him dying was the last straw but now that he’s back, alive, everything was going to be okay again. Yeah, they’re all still messed up from it, there’s going to be a lot of trust built back up again, but they’re Robins for Christ's sake. Thicker than blood, stronger than a crest, relied on more than Batman. And maybe Jason’s being sentimental, still trying to be more eloquent than his sophomore English education allowed him to be, but God, he’s trying. He’s trying so hard despite the ache that wears down his bones and the fire that consumes his brain.

That’s why he gives in. Turns around. Looks back. Does what he thought he was too stubborn to do, but things change and-

The neon sign is brighter. No, that’s not right. There’s another source of that eerie, glowing light and Jason’s eyes widen as he sees a person step through it. Another figure, broad, muscular, unfamiliar, and they’re heading straight for Dick. His brother. Who is still leaning against the advertisement poles. Who’s not doing a damn thing to avoid the stranger that’s fast approaching.

Soreness and fatigue forgotten, Jason starts sprinting, boots pounding against the pavement as he cranes his neck upwards to watch the stranger continue to advance.

“Dick!” he yells in warning, drowned out with the rain. “Dick, move!”

He slams into the fire escape, hands scraping up the ladder as he hauls himself three steps at a time, chest heaving and heart beating wildly. He slips, losing his footing, and Jason grunts as he feels the pull on his shoulder and his knees bang into the sides of the bodega. He pushes on though, gripping the metal tightly and finally reaching the top.

He’s pulling himself over, gasping and searching, and he sees the man tugging Dick closer to the strange light, what Jason thinks must be some sort of portal, and before he’s even gotten a leg over the edge, his right hand is scrambling for purchase on his gun. He takes aim and fires without a second thought and curses aloud when it jams.

“Dick!” he yells again, throwing the useless weapon away and falling over onto the roof. “Stop! Stop! What’re you doing?”

His brother just trudges on though, bicep gripped by the stranger that continues to drag him closer and closer to the pulsating light, ghoulishly pink and saturating the air with an ominous buzz. Another flash of lightning illuminates the sky and Jason trips over himself in his haste, crashing into the slick cement. He whips his head up, too far away, too late, as the stranger disappears fully into the portal, Dick just a few inches away.

“Wait!” Jason cries, still attempting to rise off of his knees. Damn the rain. Damn the weight of his grief. Damn it all, get up. Get up. “Dick, stop! Stop!”

The rain is loud though and there’s a divide between the two of them, mixes of gray, pink, and red light. His brother half turns, watching as the younger stumbles towards him, and Jason can’t hear anything, can hardly process what’s even happening now, but Dick’s lips move in what Jason thinks is, Goodbye, and Jason screams, lunging as his brother fades into the light.

He falls, smashing into the cement once again as he fails to reach for his brother’s hand, and lands where the portal had just been. He lays there on his chest, heaving and attempting to breathe through his helmet, but it’s too hard, too suffocating, and Jason rips it off and flings it as far away from him as he can. His hands clench into fists and he fights back the urge to cry as he slams his fists into the roof. Bam-Bam-Bam.

Something cracks in his knuckles and Jason stops at the pain, shifting back and hanging his head between his knees. There’s a vicious burn in his eyes, his ugly, muddy green eyes, and Jason swipes at them furiously.

“We just got you back,” he whispers through gritted teeth. “We just got you back, Dick, and you, you just-”

A clap of thunder rattles the thin poles of the Coke advertisement as its lights finally flicker out. The night is dark without its glow and Jason is left in obscurity.

“What have I done?"

#bad things happen bingo #what have i done?#Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Spyral #Agent 37 #Red Hood #viceturtle #fanfic #my fic

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helloprettybb · 3 years

Text

captain idiot

i found this in my drafts mostly complete so i finished the end and changed a little of the beginning. so if it seems a little rough, that’s because it is.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

description: steve is bad with feelings...

warnings: general angst but happy ending, cursing i think

word count: 2.4k

It’s the day you’ve dreamed about since you joined the Avengers and you’ve never wanted it to end quicker. It was actually a good day and when Steve told you he wanted to talk alone, you thought it would be even better.

You were worried you were reading into the quick touches or lingering gazes too much. But this basically confirmed he felt the same. Oh, how ignorant you were.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” you ask, trying to contain your excitement. You bite the inside of your lip to prevent the giddy smile from forming. Sitting beside him in the common room, you force your leg still as you wait for him to speak.

You’ve had a massive crush on Steve ever since you joined the team. Actually, you liked him even before that, when you saw him on TV for the first time. You were only sixteen at the time, but seeing people like you saving New York inspired you. All of your life, you’ve been ostracized and cast out for your abilities. While your parents tried to be supportive, they still held some fear. You don’t blame them, especially after you accidentally split the house in half with a tree.

You were only seventeen when you first met Fury. He offered a position on the team. You wanted to attend college, so you declined, but you kept in touch. After graduating from university three years later, you decided to join the team. Tensions between the team were high as Steve, Natasha and Sam just rejoined the team and the Accords were dropped. But gradually, strain eased and the team seemed back to normal. Tony started talking to Steve and Bucky even joined the group. Everyone lived in harmony, until today.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just be blunt.” Steve states his intense eye contact piercing into your soul. “I like you. More than just a friend.”

You try to remain calm, but you can feel the childish joy rise in your chest. Steadying your tone, you reply, “I like you, too.” For some reason, Steve doesn’t smile but looks more serious.

He sighs and asserts, “I was afraid you’d say that.” Your small smile immediately drops.

“What?” you ask, filled with confusion. He just confessed that he liked you, yet he doesn’t want you to like him back.

Steve sighs and explains, “Look, I really like you, but we can’t be together.”

Knitting your eyebrows together, you ask, “Why not?” Anger’s rising in your voice and you’re grateful it isn’t sadness. You don’t want Steve to know how much he hurt you.

“_______, I’m over a hundred years old.” Steve reasons. His serious demeanor drops and you’d feel sympathetic if you weren’t so angry. Behind Steve’s shoulder, you see vines emerge from the corner plant’s soil. Fuck.

“I’m twenty-four!” you exclaim.

“It’s not just that,” he says and you stand up, attempting to leave before destroying the compound.

Steve stands up and follows you out of the common room. You can’t outwalk Steve, so he’s barely behind you. You look down and see vines slowly sprouting through the floorboards. Steve doesn’t seem to notice as he continues, “If we broke up, it would affect working together.”

You try to tune out Steve’s voice in an attempt to calm yourself down, but the more he talks, the angrier you get. You finally reached the residential area, but unfortunately, your room is one of the farthest down the hall. “Steve, just leave me alone!” you exclaim, not even turning to face him.

Steve continues walking and pleads, “I’m sorry, _______. I just need you to understand why we can’t be together.”

You’re halfway down the hall and you bitterly reply, “Oh, I understand perfectly.” You keep walking, but you don’t hear Steve’s footsteps. At first, you think that he finally listened and decided to leave you alone, but looking down you see thick, green vines on the floor. Turning toward Steve for the first time, you see that his body is bound and the vines are constricting his body. A feeling of deja vu rushes over you. You’ve been here before and it didn’t end well. With a wave of your hand, you cause the vines to fall and release him. Before he could follow you anymore, you open your bedroom door and slam it shut.

“Steve, you need to talk to her.” Natasha picks up a drooping flower. “All the plants are dead.”

It’s been four days since the incident. You’ve barricaded yourself in your room, isolating yourself from everyone. Steve didn’t tell anyone, but when the plants started dying rapidly, people had some questions.

“What happened to the geraniums?” Bucky brings up the afternoon after the fight. The formerly bright pink geraniums look yellow and shriveled. Steve grips his fork tightly as his jaw clenches involuntarily. He could’ve sworn he saw Natasha give him the side-eye.

“Yeah and the weeping fig is looking a little sad, too.” Wanda points out. The once tall, healthy plant leans toward the ground and resembles its name. “Hey, has anyone seen _______?” Wanda adds. Everyone recounts their day and realizes they haven’t seen you at all. Steve keeps his head down to avoid any interrogation, but in a room full of enhanced beings and super-soldiers, it’s impossible.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Steve.” Natasha states, implying that she knows more than she lets on.

“I haven’t seen her.” Steve says in his best captain for to cover his shiftiness. He stands from the table and subtly escapes the situation. As he leaves the kitchen, Steve could feel Natasha’s eyes burning into his back.

He reaches the residential area and he knows he should walk over to your room. In fact, he gets within five steps before ditching the idea altogether. Before he walks away, Steve takes one last glance at the door which is covered in dark, twisted vines, similar to the ones that nearly strangled him. Turning around, he walks back to his room and closes the door.

Everyone tries to talk to Steve, seeing as you aren’t leaving your room, but it proves futile when he starts to withdraw from the group, too.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Bucky says, pounding his coffee mug on the table during one breakfast that neither had you or Steve. Wanda jumps a little, startled by Bucky’s abrupt tone and hard hit on the table.

“I know, but what can we do about it?” Wanda questions.

“What can we do about it?” Bucky repeats, too much contempt in his voice for it being so early, “We can talk to him about it.”

“We already tried that,” Natasha speaks for the first time, her voice cool and collected, a sharp contrast to Bucky’s.

“Well, we can do it again! I’m sick of this. He’s been pining for her since she joined the team. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with him,” Bucky complains angrily.

“If it’s any consolation, _______ feels the same way.” Wanda chimes in. Bucky raises an eyebrow, wondering how she knows. Wanda explains, “Her thoughts are not very subtle during meetings.”

“So basically, they both like each other but aren’t together,” Natasha concludes, and Wanda and Bucky nod. “Then, let’s get them together.”

“You say that like it’s easy. But Steve is a stubborn son of a bitch.”

“Yeah and _______’s barricaded herself in her room.” Wanda chimes in.

“Fine, then we’ll talk to Steve.” Natasha states. When no one says anything, she starts, “So...” Taking a slow sip from her mug, she finishes, “Who’s going to talk to captain idiot?”

Steve hears a knock on his door. Head popping up from his paperwork, which he’s metaphorically and literally buried himself in for the past six days, he tells F.R.I.D.A.Y to tell whoever it is that he’s busy.

After F.R.I.D.A.Y relays the message, Steve hears “Bullshit.” He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Bucky?” he asks. Steve gets up and opens the door himself. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you serious, Steve?” Bucky asks. Steve stares dumbly back at him. Bucky glides past him and Steve steps aside. “Your room looks like shit,”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Did you come here just to insult my room?”

“No, I’m here to talk about _______.” Bucky says. Steve’s heart drops. He’s been tearing himself apart about the whole situation and the only times you don’t dominate his mind is when he’s working.

“I don’t want to talk about her.” Steve says plainly, although he knows it won’t stop Bucky.

“Don’t care. You need to grow the fuck up and see her.” Bucky says bluntly.

“Why?”

“Are you serious, Steve? She’s fucking heartbroken. Trapped in her room and you did this to her-”

“I didn’t mean to!” Steve argues back. Bucky stays silent, allowing Steve to continue. “I never wanted her to fall for me. I thought that if I confessed, she would reject me and let me move on. But when she reciprocated I didn’t know what to do.”

Bucky shakes his head, disappointed at his idiotic friend. “Well…” he sighs, “You gotta do something, man. She’s locked herself in the room and hasn’t come out in a week. We’re all concerned about her.”

Bucky waits for Steve to say something, but when he doesn’t, he simply shakes his head and leaves, muttering quietly.

Steve feels bad. Well, he feels more than bad. He feels fucking terrible. He never meant for it to be this… damaging. Steve thought that confessing would help himself but he never took into account your feelings. It seems he has to take Bucky’s advice and grow the fuck up.

There’s a light knock on your door for the first time in a week. You lift your head from your bed, which is now covered in crushed, dead leaves. “What do you want?” you call out.

“I want to talk,” It’s Steve.

“I don’t want to,” you reply.

“I know, so you don’t have to. Please, ______. Just listen to what I gotta say and you can ignore me for the rest of your life.” he pleads. You sigh, casually motioning toward the door and signaling a branch to open the door.

Steve walks in and sees you curled up in your bed with your back to him. He closes the door behind him and starts to speak, “I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough and definitely too late, but if you ignore everything I say, I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything so Steve takes it as a good sign. He continues, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I care about you so much, but I was scared about what a relationship could mean. Not just because of the age difference or the power dynamic, but what it could mean for us. I don’t want to lose you.” He tried to be clear, but his scattered brain turned his articulate speech into a jumble of excuses.

“______?” he moves toward you and when no branches try to stop him, he continues. He reaches your bed and becomes concerned that you’re not speaking.. “Doll, talk to me please.”

You turn toward him and his heart breaks at the sight. Your eyes are red and your cheeks are stained with tears. He instinctively pulls you into a hug and you just about fall into him. You sob into his chest and he doesn’t say anything. Steve smoothes his hand up and down your back, trying to calm you down. It helps and your breathing starts to even out. When you feel like you’re able to speak, you move away to face him.

“I don’t know why I’m so upset, I just-” you try to speak but feel another wave of sadness his you. Steve brings you back to his chest and you cry some more.

“It’s okay, take your time.” Steve assures you. Fuck, you should be mad at him. But all your anger washes away as you let everything out.

Once you finish crying, you pull away to talk again. “There was this one guy in high school. I really liked him and I thought he liked me back.” You start and a warm feeling forms in your chest when you see that Steve is intently listening. “I told him how I felt and he said he felt the same. But then,” You start to get choked up again and Steve rubs your arm soothingly.

“But he said that he can’t be with me because I’m too dangerous. I guess he was right because, well I was furious. Steve,” You look at him with pleading eyes, “You gotta understand, I was barely 16 when this happened. I was just a kid.”

You start to ramble and Steve tells you, “_______, no matter what happened, I’ll still care about you. Promise, nothing can change how I feel about you,”

You let out a shaky breath, “When he got up to leave, some of my vines caught his leg. I could barely control this,” You gesture to your room of overgrown foliage. “Back then. Sowhen I tried to release him, more vines started to trap him. I’ll never forget him yelling. Begging me to stop, but I couldn’t, Steve. I couldn’t control my emotions and I couldn’t control my powers.”

Tears start streaming down your face again, “He was right, Steve. I was too dangerous. I’ll always be.”

He hugs you again before you could finish that thought. “No, no, no.” Steve whispers in your ear. “Honey, you’re not dangerous. He was wrong, _______.” He looks you in the eye. “You’ll never have to feel like that ever again.”

“Promise?” you ask weakly.

“I promise.” he says, “Nothing can make me stop loving you.”

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers imagine #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines

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that-gt-and-vore-stuffs · 3 years

Text

Desires and Daydreams

Me: oh yeah I’ll have this edited and out by tomorrow morning! Also Me: Ha! Sike! Time fo post at night again :)

All in all I’m so sorry this took so long for me to get out. A busy week with ball fucked me over time and energy wise. However, I now have a full 7k word fic for y’all so that’s good! I quite literally just finished editing this so I hope it’s as good as my mind told me it was about two minutes ago. Especially considering it’s a little gift of sorts for the amazing @doodlevore (AKA I saw this gem of a drawing, flipped out for a hot minute, and then decided it was writing time) Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy and I hope I did your artwork justice Doodle :)

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Aw c’mon Doc!” the man halfheartedly whined as he attempted again to grab the small ‘medic’. Once more 2b had ducked under his hand, glaring up at him through his goggles. The taller of the two just laughed at the sight, near daggers of teeth glimmering through his toothy grin. No way in hell could he take that glare seriously like this. “You act like I was planning to hurt you. You really think I’m gonna hurt ya?”

“No,” 2b started, halting his words momentarily to dodge another attempted swipe at him. Getting caught by the man wouldn’t be the worst thing, sure - hell, he could name several things automatically worse than being grabbed by him in this hellscape of Nevada - however that did not mean that he wanted to be scooped up like some doll and put through whatever his teammate had in mind for him and the other two who were both currently busy dodging the taller’s other hand. Again his glare settled on the younger hacker. “But that does not mean I’m going to keel over and let you do whatever, Deimos. Now would you stop trying to grab us for five minutes!”

“But what’s the fun in that?” Deimos protested, swiping at Hank only for the shrunken mercenary to vault themself over his hand. Go figure, he was still going to be difficult. Hell, they all were. When he was the smallest of the group he was at their mercy and even went with it half the time, but the moment he got to have some fun they all decided to be as difficult as possible. In all honesty it wasn’t as bad as he was making it seem. Watching them run around like little mice was pretty entertaining. That didn’t mean he didn’t have plans he wanted to follow through with though! Whatever, he’d play their games for now. He’d get them eventually, and when he did he’d have his fun. “I’d stop if you all would just stand still for five seconds, but no. You all clearly wanna play so I’m gonna keep up the cat and mouse game we’ve got going.”

“But that- Deimos, you aren’t getting my point here at all!” 2b yelled up at the man, ducking under yet another swipe at him made by the youngest of their little crew. He was fairly certain it was impossible to miss what he was saying so either Deimos was less intelligent then he had grown to suspect over the years or he was flat out ignoring the man’s request to quit trying to grab them. A brief comparison of the two had crossed out the former option rather quickly. That cocky, smoking son of a gun. “Sanford! A little help?”

“Why me?” The Chad of a man yelled back as he scrambled to his feet after having to get down to avoid being grabbed. In the back of his mind he already had a sneaking suspicion as to why he was asked. He wasn’t stupid after all.

“He usually listens to you better than me!” The older hacker shot back, nearly running into Hank as he prepared himself for the next ‘attack’.

“So we’re playing that card now. Good to know.” Sanford grumbled softly, no real venom in his tone. 2b was right, at least in most contexts. He probably was the closest to Deimos out of them all and the other two’s usual intimidating approach to get Deimos to listen really wouldn’t work with them the size of the man’s hand. A sigh tugged itself from his throat as he directed his words up at the seemingly giant hacker. “Dei, c’mon now. Can’t you quit with the whole trying to grab us thing? It’s- AH!- not all that fun!”

“Damnit.” Deimos cursed under his breath, having missed Sanford yet again. Who knew trying to just grab his teammates would be so difficult. It was definitely fun, this little game of cat and mouse like in those old cartoons he’d managed to pirate, but it was still harder than he expected to actually grab them. Guess not everything gets to come easy. Or maybe he was going too easy… “Maybe not for you. Just stand still and make it easier on yourself if you’re having such a bad time.”

“That’s- Dei, you chucklehead, quit the games already and stop trying to grab us like rodents!”

Deimos just shook his head, a low laugh rumbling in his chest. His grin still stood proud on his face in all its sharp toothed glory. This was too much fun to give up so easily. Really, they expected him to quit the moment he started having fun? Please. He’d gone through too much to waste his opportunity. Getting his hands on shrinking tech had to be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, despite the difficulties and hurdles he had to jump to do such a thing. What had been a normal, boring day with no missions had turned into him watching his three shrunken teammates dash across the worn table while dodging his attempts to grab them. He was going to enjoy this, whether they liked it or not. Call this revenge for all the times he was teased for being the smallest out of all of them, or call it him being an ass. He didn’t care. For once the younger hacker wasn’t the small one in the group and boy did he have plans for it. Oh he had plans…

“Mmm…how ‘bout no.” Deimos hummed, slamming a hand down on the table next to 2b. Just as he’d hoped the man tensed, trying to keep himself steady on the shaking table. His eyes locked onto the temporarily paralyzed unofficial medic like a hawk’s to its prey, smirk morphing into a full on grin. Without hesitation he grabbed the man in a firm fist. There was one of the three. “Ha! Gotcha Doc~!”

“Mmgh- I can see that, Deimos. Now put me down!” 2BDamned didn’t shout at his teammates often. There were a few times he did, yes. Prime examples of such times included (but weren’t limited to) tracking blood all over the base, doing something absolutely reckless and facing the consequences, not following the plans they had for missions, etc. Not once had he expected to ever be yelling at one of them, specifically the smallest of their team, to put him down. Hank? Maybe. Sanford? Long shot but not impossible. Deimos? No. And yet here he was, trapped within the grasp of the younger hacker with seemingly no way to escape. It’s not like the little wiggling that his loose enough to be breathable yet tight confines could do was helping much.

“But what if I don’t wanna, Doc?” Deimos hummed, resting his other hand on the table for the first time in the past twenty-five minutes that he’d been trying to grab the others. “What if I wanna keep you trapped in my fist for the rest of the day huh? Maybe longer. It’s not like you can exactly free yourself, now can you? Huh? You gonna wiggle yourself out of my hand, 2b? Claw your way out like some baby kitten?”

“I swear to Jebus, once we’re back to normal I am going to kill you myself.” The dissenter growled, trying again to free himself from his confines. He could only imagine how utterly idiotic he looked, wiggling around like some fish out of water in Deimos’s hand. Talk about humiliating.

“Sure you will. Sure.” Deimos rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he thought through his next moves. He could just grab the other two and get on with his plans but…oh that ruined the fun of the chase! His plans and stomach could wait, he wanted to enjoy this just a little longer. Now what could he do to achieve such a thing? “And besides, that’s an ‘if’ to you, Doc. If you get back to normal. Can’t do that without my help after all, so maybe you should let me have my fun~”

“I will. Don’t think I- wait. What?” Well now that wasn’t something anyone stuck at four inches tall wanted to hear. Yes, he could probably figure out how the hell Deimos shrunk him (assuming that the hacker had gotten the information and technology from the AAHW) however Deimos had at least a bit of a point. Things would be so much easier, faster, and less dangerous if he just reversed whatever the hell he did. He….he fucking planned this. He- oh the younger hacker was in some deep shit once they were back and he was the smallest again.

“Mmm you heard me, 2b. Getting you three back requires the help of me, unless you’d rather be crushed under the boot of some agent trying to get back to normal yourselves.” Deimos hummed, his words practically swimming in cockiness. “And I don’t think any of us want that. So either you let me have my fun, or you three get to stay pocket sized until you do.”

“Deimos, don’t you even think about it.” Hank growled, eyes narrowing behind his goggles as he stepped closer to the hacker. Being this small was bad enough. It wasn’t like a MAG agent where they weren’t completely dwarfed in size. No. He was stuck the size of a fucking mouse being toyed with by their basically gigantic teammate. And to top it all off the threat of being stuck at this size now loomed over the mercenary’s head. Just fucking wonderful.

“Aw but what if I did, Hank?” The hacker asked with a raise of his eyebrow, turning his attention from the medic in his fist to the shrunken killing machine that was now glaring at him over his arm. It really was something else to see them so tiny when they usually towered over everyone. How the tables turn. “I would think this is a nice situation for you. So long as you’re hidden it’s not like the Agency could find you now. No ones gonna look for a four inch tall Hank, now are they- Hey! Sanford!”

The mentioned man’s head lifted from where he had landed on the table, 2b now laying next to him after a less than graceful ‘rescue’ from the younger hacker’s hand. His feet scrambled against the old table, attempting to gain enough traction to allow for him to stand. For a moment he looked as if he were trying to stand on ice, feet slipping out from beneath him. The doctor beside him wasn’t doing much better in the department of getting to his feet. Judging by the disappointed stare he felt burning two holes into his chest once he finally got to his feet, Hank wasn’t all that impressed with their sudden lack of coordination either. Wait, no. Hank could come later. Right now he had to deal with the giant Deimos that was currently pouting at him.

“Sorry Dei, but I’m siding with Doc here. Just put us back to normal before Hank decides to find a way to kill you at this size.” As Sanford spoke a tone far less confident then he had hoped for laced his words. Something that probably doomed him to not be listened to. Judging by the new level of cocky smeared across the hacker’s face? He was right too. Well shit. That didn’t help anything.

“Hmm…maybe but, and hear me out, I’ve got a better idea.” No one had to ask exactly what Deimos’ ‘better idea’ was. He was all too happy to demonstrate it, Hank quickly finding himself laying flat against the table with the hacker’s hand pinning him in place. The small shocked grunt from the mercenary didn’t go unnoticed by the other two, their eyes darting to their now trapped teammate. Both failed to notice the brief warning look in Hank’s eyes behind his goggles until it was too late, a warm calloused hand pinning them to the rough grain of the wood. Well, there went the idea of escape.

A sharp laugh chased away the silence that had previously filled the air. Beneath the rim of his visor two eyes simply watched as the three small forms writhed beneath his hands. Proof of the point he had been trying to prove. The point that his three shrunken teammates had wanted to be false. No way to escape now. Not unless he allowed for it, that is. A small lightbulb lit up in his head at the thought. The idea was tempting, were he to be completely honest with himself. Give his friends hope only to crush it like a spent cig under his boot once more by trapping them in a new way. Oh but then there was the option of dangling freedom just in front of them. That was an idea…and there were so many more possibilities too. In the back of his head a small voice attempted to grab Deimos’ attention. Yelling at him in every way it could think of that even thinking about doing that to his friends was wrong, even if it was playful at its roots. He shouldn’t do such a thing to them! Though, thinking logically, there was no way they wouldn’t do the same or something similar were their positions switched. Deimos knew that much, being the shortest of their gang. A soft scoff sounded from his throat, mind made up on the matter. Unfortunately for the three pinned to the table, in the end the voice of reason was all too easily ignored by the younger hacker as he adjusted to lean forward in his chair. The smell of cigarette smoke grew in strength with each hum that passed the man’s lips, the three pinned beneath his hands only able to watch as things seemed to get worse for them.

“Heh. Much better.” Deimos said with a smile, gladly ignoring the glares he was now getting from his little friends. “Now what shall I do with you-“

Ggnnnrrrr……

“-three….”

Anyone with half a mind would think that after being interrupted by your stomach you would be embarrassed and most likely apologize. The three shrunken men on the table thought that after being interrupted by his stomach Deimos would be embarrassed and probably laugh it off. Maybe even give them a chance to run without thinking. What they didn’t expect was for him to start laughing. A deep chuckle from the back of his throat too, not just an embarrassed little giggle. It was a genuine fucking laugh. First off, why the hell was he laughing? Second, what the hell did that mean for them? After a moment of thought one thing became clear. As much as they didn’t want to admit it, the three knew what the answer to the second question was long before it was even asked. Nothing good. That’s what it meant. Especially not with that dumb grin still sitting on his face. 2b, eyes locked on Deimos’ expression, had opened his mouth to attempt prying an answer out of the younger. Before a single word could leave his lips, however, his world was flipped on its head.

Literally.

For a brief second everything stopped. The warmth and pressure from the hand holding him to the table disappeared, cold washing over him and sending a shiver down his spine. That’s when a new type of pressure appeared. It was still rough and warm, the grip of a calloused hand for sure, but it was much more concentrated than just smashing him to the table. Specifically around his right ankle. His eyes couldn’t go ‘dinner plate wide’ any faster than they did the moment he felt said pressure appear. The less-than-manly scream he had heard beside him roughly half a second earlier started to make a lot more sense by the millisecond. Especially once he was dragged backwards and up, a very similar noise escaping himself. For a brief moment everything spun before his sight leveled out. What he didn’t want to see was Deimos grinning at him. Upside down.

“Annnd there we go. Sanford, Hank, I hope you guys still have a good grip at this size~.” The hacker jabbed, grinning at the little chain his friends had formed once he started picking them up. Pinched between his thumb, pointer, and middle finger was Hank’s torso. They were currently holding onto Sanford’s ankle, looking less than pleased with the situation they were in. Sanford was gripping onto the ankle of 2BDamned as he dangled, worry painting over his features. Then there was 2b, dangling at the end of the chain upside down with a look quite similar to Hank’s plastered on his face. All in all, quite the interesting little chain they made up as he leaned back in the chair.

“Damn straight. You two drop me and you’re dead.” The ‘medic’ grumbled, all too willing to make his displeasure known.

“Aw, don’t you worry, Doc. If they drop you I’ll make sure you have a nice, soft, warm landing~”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t want to be dropped on my hea- Deimos, what the genuine fuck does that mean?” He shouldn’t have asked. The moment after the words left his mouth 2b knew he never should have asked what the younger hacker had meant with his words. Dangling over the man’s lap having to stare him in the face while upside down wasn’t ideal. Absolutely not. However, he found much preferred it to dangling inches above Deimos’ open jaws, the smell of cigarette smoke laced breath hitting him almost as hard as the realization of just how sharp the man’s teeth were. He supposed he never noticed with Dei a. rarely ever purposely showing them off, and b. him being smaller than the older hacker. That didn’t stop him from mentally smacking himself upside the head for not taking more notes of it sooner though. Especially when he was getting so…up close and personal with them now. Fuck he was close to those daggers.

“Dei- Dei, think about this!” Sanford shouted as he stared down at the sight of the man’s open mouth, praying that his friend would listen to at least some reason. Sure, they gave him shit for being the smallest of the group often. He especially did. Not once though had he, or the other two as far as he knew, expected that said teasing would lead to them possibly having to spend the day trapped in said hacker’s gut though. If they had, they would have backed off a little. But now the threat was more present than ever. And knowing Deimos? It might be longer than a day too. He wouldn’t put it past the man at all. Jebus Christ….

“Oh I have San. We’re past that point now.” Deimos hummed, his tongue lazily snaking itself over his lips as he glanced over the string of teammates that dangled from his hand. Slowly his stare became distant, his mind beginning to wander. Just how would each of them taste exactly? Would they all taste the same? But what if they each tasted different? Now wouldn’t that be something. Perhaps he wasn’t too far off picturing Sanford as a juicy sausage in his little moments to himself. Oh that would be perfect. The warm feeling of drool trailed itself lazily down his chin, each thought regarding the possible tastes of his friends encouraging an empty rumble from his midsection. He just had to find out now.

“Deimos, lower me any further and I’ll make sure you choke to death.” The man only laughed, eyes fluttering shut as he opened his mouth once more.

“Sorry Doc. ‘S too late to stop now.” Any screams of protest from his teammates fell on deaf ears as Deimos lowered the end of the little chain into his mouth. Immediately he was hit with the taste of black coffee, hints of iron, and oddly enough what tasted like whisky poking through and tickling his tongue. The soft, pleased hum escaped him long before he could even think to stop it, his mind far more focused on getting that flavor to coat his tastebuds than his actions or the saliva steadily dripping down his chin.

2BDamned had a different opinion on the matter. Specifically about the claim that it was ‘too late.’ It was not too fucking late. In fact, it was anything but. Deimos’s mouth, which absolutely reeked of cigarettes might he add, was still wide open. He wasn’t slipping down the tight tube he could see in front of him yet. He was being rolled around and licked over like some sort of candy, something which he apparently had to remind Deimos he wasn’t with a smack to the tongue. Sharp teeth surrounded the unofficial doctor on both sides, Sanford’s grip on his ankle still like iron despite the saliva now thoroughly coating his body. Try as he might to push himself out with his hands they only slipped and slid across the wet surface of Deimos’s tongue. Far too similar to how he was steadily slipping backwards.

“Dei…Dei, you can pull us out now…” Sanford yelled up to the man, ducking his head between his arms to avoid the feeling of daggers dragging down his head and neck. Jebus, his teeth really were sharper up close. The white knuckled grip he held on 2b’s ankle refused to budge as he slipped further in, eyes locked into the sight before him. Not once did he ever expect to watch the older hacker slowly disappear down his best friend’s throat with nothing he could do but hold on and pray. Yet here he was. Fuck. “Dei-!!”

“Sanford, don’t even bother at this point.” 2b groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask. Deimos wasn’t going to listen to shit. That much was clear now if it wasn’t an hour and a half ago when they’d woken up in his hands. He didn’t want to admit it, not by a long shot, however as he slid further back there wasn’t any way the dissenter could convince himself otherwise. He, and the other two, were doomed. “He’s not going to-“

Ulp~

“…..listen. God damnit.” What else was he to even expect at this point?

Try as hard as he might, Sanford found he couldn’t grip the unofficial doctor’s ankle any tighter. Not without the possibility of breaking something, considering that he most likely had already passed the ‘try not to bruise the man’ stage. No doubt the clearly handprint shaped black and blue bruise would be there in a day tops. A scolding was nearly cemented in his future now, however Sanford couldn’t find it in himself to complain about it. Compared to the hole Deimos was digging himself, with a smile on his face no less, he’d gladly take the talking to. Speaking of the hacker, either he was genuinely out of it for some reason or he was just trying to be a grade A dick.

“Deimos!! Cut it out, man!” He yelled, trying his hardest to squirm away from the licks and shifting of the man’s tongue. Unfortunately for him, nothing seemed to work. It started at his hands but all too quickly the sensation of a wet tongue dragging itself up, over, and around the pyromaniac’s arms and to his torso. The dark lenses of his signature glasses fogged over with each warm breath that washed over his body. Goosebumps dotted all exposed skin, any fabric quickly becoming drenched with saliva. The sensations slowly crawled their way down Sanford’s body, more of him no longer dangling and instead slipping across the hacker’s tongue by the moment. He watched his hands, and by extension Doc’s feet, slowly slip beyond his vision into the void-like entrance of Deimos’ throat. His arms followed not long after, the darkness enveloping more of his vision by the second. Talk about a way to spend your day.

Glk~

A soft groan rumbled around the shrunken men, the sound’s maker all too lost in his thoughts. Tastes of warm sausage, coffee, and the lingering hints of whisky and iron danced across his tongue. Each lick up the parts of Sanford’s body which remained momentarily in his mouth brought a shiver up through his spine. With each second the small body inched further back, pulling his hand toward his mouth. His fingers and the body pinned between them slipped past the hacker’s lips with ease. Layers of cloth, along with the occasional sensation of scarred skin, pressed against his tongue. The taste of a rare steak and a much stronger metallic hint, again not unlike that of blood but somehow much more pleasant, seemed all too eager to attack his taste buds. His spine seemed to reduce itself to jello in a matter of seconds, relying on the backrest of his chair for support. The smoker pulled his fingers from his mouth with a small pop, jaws shutting around his final shrunken teammate and leaving his mind to ponder over the tastes and sensation attacking his mouth and mind alike.

The word ‘still’ had been completely wiped from Deimos’s dictionary, if it had even been there to begin with. At least that’s what Hank would have told anyone who asked. His eyes had narrowed behind his red tinted goggles and now they seemed to grow thinner with each movement from the muscle beneath him. As if the heat and lingering cigarette smell from the hacker’s breath weren’t enough, the wet feeling of saliva continued to sneak itself into every fiber of his being. First his skin, then lighter clothing items like his bandana and mask, and finally seeping through his coat and multiple other layers of clothing. And just what was a better cherry on top then being rolled around near constantly. Every moment they seemed to find themself in a new position within the confines of the young hacker’s mouth. While their grip remained on Sanford’s ankles, the same could in no way be said for his patience with the man who had caused this hell by shrinking them. He swore, Deimos better enjoy his time being able to hold them like dolls because the moment they were back to normal the man would be getting a firm taste of his own medicine. Whether it be by him serving as lunch or by another form of revenge was yet to be decided. Hank could only plot so much, though. Despite how much more bearable he found thinking about a way to ‘return the favor’ to Deimos to be, he needed to at least show a little of his own irritation to the man. After all, he wasn’t just some snack. They were still Hank J. Wimbledon god damn it, and they’d prove it if they had to. How he would do that remained a mystery for what felt like hours of constant licking and flipping…until said proof came. It came in the form of a kick to the inside of Deimos’ teeth. A kick which sent him sliding backwards-

Ulk-

Glp~

And the oddly shaped lump in Deimos’ throat disappearing behind his collarbone.

Deimos’ eyes had widened in shock, a hand quickly pressing itself to his throat as it happened. In his opinion, it happened too quickly. All too fast the warm weight disappeared from his mouth, pushing itself backwards with force into his throat. Far too soon did he lose the previously vivid taste of barely cooked meat and metal, leaving him with only the memory and lingering fragments of it like the other two tastes. Too quickly had the lump in his throat been pushed down by two final swallows, disappearing down behind his collarbone. For a moment he sat there in silence, the room lacking sound except for his heavy breathing. With each rise and fall of his chest he waited. Waited for the one thing that couldn’t seem to come fast enough. Moments passed with nothing before the feeling he’d been waiting for rushed his senses. A filling warmth pooled itself in his stomach, moving around against the walls of the organ and pulling a warm chuckle from the man. His hand trailed to rest over his stomach, feeling the small bodies shift and fight beneath layers of clothing, muscle, and skin. Fangs glimmering in a grin once again as he poked at the squirming fullness in his gut.

“Well look at that.” He laughed to himself, relaxing back into his chair. His stomach gurgled under his hand, what he guessed to be a thank you of sorts now that he had what he wanted within it. Though something told him the others wouldn’t be thanking him all that much. “How are you three holding up in there?”

“Deimos, do not laugh at us or so help me Jebus- Hank, get your arm out of my face!” The words were quickly followed by what Deimos could assume was 2b pushing Hank off him and into his stomach wall from what he could feel. Those three couldn’t seem to stay still. Well, he couldn’t truly blame them if he wanted to. It had to be slippery, trapped in a wet, moving organ like his stomach and all. The mental image of his three teammates slipping around in his stomach, trying their hardest to gain footing or at least a comfortable position, drew another laugh from him. This was great.

“Dei, c’mon.” Sanford added, giving his own kick to the wall in case he had failed to grab the hacker’s attention before. Try as he might to stay out of 2BDamned and Hank’s little squabble fate seemed to have other plans as he was shoved back into them every time he got away. Or maybe that was just Deimos being Deimos. “You’ve had your fun, now spit us out you chucklehead.”

“Mmm yeah no.” Deimos hummed, drumming his fingers mindlessly on his belly as he took in the little shocks that each harsh kick or punch sent through his body to his brain. Each movement registered in his brain as a pleasurable little shock, but the harsher they were the more enjoyment they seemed to cause him. Not that he was complaining. Last he checked his teammates could tire themselves out with squirming all they wanted to if it felt this nice. “See, that’s not really the plan here. Not for a few hours at least.”

“What now?” Sanford’s voice had dropped its hopeful tone, now more monotonous and serious. Beside him he heard a growl, one he assumed to be from Hank. Was the smoker trying to get them killed? Again he punched the wall. “Dei, quit joking.”

“I ain’t joking, ‘Ford.” The young hacker replied bluntly, his shit eating grin more than audible in his words. A long, over dramatic sigh made its way from his mouth with ease as he adjusted his position to one more comfortable. Or at least as comfortable as one could get in an old chair. Smiling to himself he gave his stomach a little shove, feeling the three bodies inside shift and move under the pressure. “I just wanna sit and enjoy this for a while. It feels too nice to just give up.”

Silence fell upon the three currently held within the confines of the man’s stomach, each sitting there taking in Deimos’ words until the pressure from outside had lifted. Once it did, they all reacted their own way. Hank, for example, sat still for about ten seconds tops before a punch was thrown at the wall. Sanford, on the other hand, debated whether Hank’s approach or his attempts at reasoning with their ‘captor’ would be more effective at getting Deimos to spit them up. Then there was 2BDamned, who sat in what would’ve been an unnerving silence had they not known him. Knowing him, though, changed the meaning of the silence from ‘is this man insane to be so calm?’ to ‘Deimos just dug himself a grave’ in a split second.

“Deimos,” The unofficial medic started, “you have ten seconds to at least start spitting us up or I will force myself back up your throat simply to beat your ass.” Despite the warmth of their current confines, a chill shot up Sanford’s back. As far as he knew, the last thing you wanted to be was at the end of Doc’s threats. The man often had little to no issue going through with them, and Deimos wasn’t some special case. The laughter they heard (and felt shaking their ‘cell’ for that matter) was all it took to solidify that Deimos didn’t take them seriously at this size. Guess said threats don’t work when you’re four inches tall at best and your ‘captor’ is a smug ass bastard.

“Ha! I’d like to see you try, Doc.” Deimos chuckled, giving his stomach a firm pat which only seemed to serve to jostle around its captives more. “I might not be able to handle spice like San’ but I do know my way around feisty snacks~.”

“We aren’t food, Deimos.” Hank growled, kicking the floor beneath him. The flesh sunk under his boot, a sickening squishing sound heard as a result. A small shiver trembled up the walls, one which failed to register with the black-clad mercenary as in pain. Oh just wonderful. The sharp toothed asshole was enjoying this.

“Mmm you sure, big guy? Cause you seem like food to me right now.” Within only a few seconds of the words leaving his lips the hacker found himself met with a pleasant shockwave up the spine. Clearly a certain black-clad mercenary didn't like being called food, if the fighting he felt wash over him like a tsunami of warm, fuzzy electricity meant anything. A soft groan crawled out of his lips, his hand lazily tracing circles over his stomach. ”mm oh c-calm down in there. I didn’t mean it. I will let you out, Jeez.”

“Deimos, this isn’t funny. Spit us out.” 2b snapped, kicking the floor.

“Mmm sorry, Doc. Can't hear you heheh…” the hacker spoke, words blurring softly as he melted back into the chair.

“I’m serious!” The words fell on deaf ears.

“Dei, c’mon…” Sanford this time. His eyes drifted softly shut.

“Dei…” His grin turned into a simple smirk.

“Dei…” Didn't he get he wasn’t spitting them out yet?

“Deimos…” Oh full names now. How fancy.

“Deimos..?” Wait…that didn’t sound right.

“Deimos.” Was he losing it?

…

“DEIMOS!”

The hacker jumped, blinking rapidly as his eyes darted around. What was going on? Where were they? Who did he need to kill? Where were the others? Thoughts rushed through his head as wide eyes darted around everything in sight, looking for something they recognized. Anything to show him where he was or what was going on. Relief came to him in the form of Sanford standing in front of him, a hand on his shoulder as if he was trying to get his attention. Most importantly though they were in their base. Safe. No one was here. They weren’t under attack. He was just daydreaming. Sanford and the others were here and he was just…daydreaming- oh damn it. Go figure it was too good to be true. A groan, this time annoyed, rang from Deimos’ throat.

“Jebus- Dude, are you alright?” Sanford asked, eyebrows knit with worry and…an emotion Deimos found himself unable to name. Like he’d seen something. Something…weird. Almost like concern but not at the same time. For a brief moment an idea reared its head, only to be smashed down like a weird game of whack-a-mole within the hacker’s mind. There wasn’t any need for such an absurd idea. It’s not like Sanford could have seen his little daydream. Nope, that was safe in his head. The smoker shook his head to clear it, quickly flashing Sanford a sharp toothed grin.

“Yeah man. Just zonin’ out and daydreaming a little ‘s all. Nothing to worry about here heheh,” he laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder playfully. His eyes scanned the man’s face again, trying to see if his statement had done its job. Although the worry had dropped from Sanford’s face, the other emotion remained. Now what on earth was that for?

“Daydreamin’ huh? ‘Bout what?” The pyromaniac asked, raising an eyebrow. His eyes flicked from Deimos’ eyes to his mouth, then back again as he spoke. He didn’t seem to not believe Deimos when he said he was daydreaming, so what on earth was that look for? And why was he looking at his mouth so much? Giving into the call of curiosity the sharp-toothed hacker brought a hand up to his mouth, eyes widening mouth momentarily when his fingers found a trail of saliva dripping from his lips to his chin. He’d been drooling. Whoops.

“Eh. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Deimos lied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand which he then wiped on his pant leg. So that’s what Sanford had been looking at. Oh he must’ve looked downright stupid too. Well now wasn’t that just great? He just had to hope the Chad hadn’t decided to take a photo.

“Honestly I don’t even remember what it was about.” Liar, he remembered all of it. The vivid tastes, the squirmy fullness, the thrill-

Grrrnnnggg…

Ah shit. Busted by his own stomach. For a second the hacker sat there stunned, blinking dumbly as his cheeks heated up with a pink tint. Ok just play it cool Deimos. “….though if I had to make a guess? Food heh.”

“Yeah, that would make sense heh.” Sanford laughed softly, playfully jabbing the smaller man in the stomach. He seemed to buy Deimos’s story, bringing a sense of relief to the hacker. At least he wasn’t going to press on it. “Your stomach was anything but quiet, you know.”

“Go figure. And when I can’t say anything about it too.” Quickly laughter had found itself spilling from Deimos’ mouth, his mind having calmed down when he had heard the sound from the other man. He seemed less concerned, or whatever that emotion he couldn’t name right now was. As another grumble shook through his middle the hacker lowered a hand to rest over his stomach. He got it already. He was upset the daydream of his wasn’t real after all too. Not much more he could do besides try and find something to eat now though. “Say, I’m gonna go try and snag something to shut my gut up. Wanna come?”

“Nah, I’ll pass this time.” Sanford spoke with a small shake of the head and a smile. Try as he might to play it off as friendly, it seemed that odd emotion that Deimos couldn’t name was just bound to show itself in his words. “You just go shut that thing up before the Agency uses it to track us.”

“Oh ha ha. I’m going.” Deimos laughed, giving Sanford one last playful punch to the shoulder before running off. He had food to track down somewhere in this hellscape of Nevada, unless he wanted a beating from Doc that was. He just needed something small or, hell, even temporary if he happened to come across a shrunken grunt or agent. They would work out just fine so long as he didn’t let the others find out what he’d used to shut his stomach up. Couldn’t give away anything that could relate to his little hidden desires. The emptiness in his gut wasn’t something he’d wanted back, but alas, a daydream is only a daydream and he wasn’t getting any fuller just walking around. Now where would his best chance to snag someon- something be…

…

Sanford watched as his friend ran off, smile slowly fading as Dei disappeared from his line of sight. That look of caution slipped back onto his face as he slowly turned his back to head to his room. He needed a moment to think about what he’d just seen. Try as he might, he couldn’t just forget what was now burned into his mind. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the younger hacker had been daydreaming about if you had seen him while he was in the zoned out trance of his. Mouth wide open and drooling with a hand pretending to dangle something above it, an active stomach topping it all off like some sorta weird cherry on the sundae of his best friend’s little fantasy. Oh no, he knew what that meant. And hearing him mumble the names of their other teammates, along with his own, at least once through it all? It spelled out the man’s daydream in big neon lights. The very thought sent a shiver down his spine, despite how he tried his best to shake it off.

He wanted to believe it when he tried to tell himself that Deimos wouldn’t ever shrink them, much less try to eat them. He really did. All that he’d seen along with logic itself, however, pointed him at it with the firm proof that his words were lies. The man would no doubt take advantage of it, if he ever found a way to shrink them, even if he were to keep them as safe as possible. Just as he had with any unfortunate shrunken agents or grunts he happened upon when he was alone (or at least when he thought he was) Safe or not safe, the fact of the matter still stood. Sanford did not want to spend however long within the confines of his friend’s gut, especially if he wasn’t alone. Being in there had to be bad enough. Him not being able to do anything about it either only made the situation worse. Reasoning with the hacker was most likely hopeless and he wasn’t about to beg. What was left? Pray? God, if Deimos ever managed to get his hands on the Agency’s shrinking technology then one thing was downright certain. Boy were he, Hank, and 2b doomed…

#soft vore #mawedness combat #it took me long enough #but it’s finally done #i have so many ideas for fics based on drawings by a handful of artists #this one though…this one made me go for it and write it #congrats doodle #you and your art shot me with my own inspiration Gun #and I’ve just gotta say amazing work again #you were one of the main three/four who inspired me to write M4dc0m #anyway #I hope you enjoy the fic you caused :)

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jemmahazelnut · 3 years

Text

Dark Écriture

Summary: The magic swelled in him, draining his energy. It was more powerful than any of his previous spells. More terrible than the rune of pain, more sinister than darkness, more vigorous than the rune of fear. It was pure evil and Freed was beginning to enjoy it, knowing full well the spell would end too quickly to relish it.

Or: the story of how Freed lived with his demonic magic over the years. [Freed/Laxus]

Link: AO3

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, unnamed character deaths, morally ambiguous actions.

Notes: This is a story about Freed, his dark past and his cruel side.

Thanks to oofenflugen who has beta read my fanfic. Without his help I would never have published it. Check out his blog @cygnus-arts to see his art. He also has a profile on AO3 oofen_flugen where you can find his fanfics.

Hope you like it!

Dark Écriture

-Year X777, Dark Écriture: Death-

(16-year-old Laxus, 13-year-old Freed)

Freed had promised not to do it again. He promised it only a few months earlier, but there was no way he could keep that promise to the Master. Not when he saw those children locked up in the cells and the instruments of torture surrounding them, not when he saw the man’s cruel face, not when he heard the whimpering of the children. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hold back his strength, much less the hatred that was beginning to rise and fill him.

Freed almost didn’t realize it, but he subconsciously raised his sword in front of him. He hardly noticed the way the Master’s grandson stared at him. He almost didn’t realize the demonic aura that enveloped him and choked the oxygen in the room. Mentally, he knew it was happening. He knew that he was breaking a promise he had made, and in doing so, he was doing something terrible that -maybe, just maybe- he would regret. But he couldn’t afford to worry about it.

The magic swelled in him, draining his energy. It was more powerful than any of his previous spells. More terrible than the rune of pain, more sinister than darkness, more vigorous than the rune of fear. It was pure evil and Freed was beginning to enjoy it, knowing full well the spell would end too quickly to relish it.

His magic caused his hair to rise. Freed's fringe lifted and exposed his face, leaving his black eye uncovered. His body burned, and he felt the pure hatred concentrated in his eye. His mind focused on a single thought.

“Death,” Freed hissed, unconsciously, as if his lips had moved on their own.

A deadly silence fell. It was as if the whole world had been silent for a moment. He no longer heard the whimpering children, the fighting upstairs, the voice of the guild leader, or that of the Master’s son. He heard nothing, and it was unreal.

A moment later the magic shot out with all its power out of his body, passed his guildmate, and struck the enemy. The dark wizard clawed at his chest, desperately trying to breathe. His body twitched, and he fell back to the ground, continuing to jerk, causing his leg to thump erratically against the wall. It was a terrible sight, and Freed was enjoying every moment of it. The dark mage's eyes filled with terror and widened. His drool poured and mixed with his blood staining the floor. The veins in his neck swelled.

It was magnificent. It was what Freed wanted, pure evil. It was what the man deserved.

It ended too quickly. In a few seconds, the man stilled, reducing himself to a corpse. Freed’s magic faded, and the ambiance of the room returned. The distant sounds of fighting and whimpering only brought Freed exhaustion.

His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, sword slipping from his fingers, forcing Freed to lean on his hands. Even if the spell had only lasted for a few seconds, Freed felt as if he had been fighting for hours. Sweat coated his body, and he struggled to catch his breath.

He couldn’t see the shocked gaze of the Master’s son. Freed didn't bother to check that the man was dead. He knew it was impossible.

He tried to stand up but staggered, exhausted in a way he’d only experienced a few times before.

“You killed him,” said the Master’s son. Freed smiled. Yes, he wanted to say. Yes, I did, and it was wonderful. Instead, Freed stood silently, realizing what Laxus Dreyar must be thinking.

No. It wasn’t okay. He had to go back, back to a safe place, go back to being Freed Justine. He was no longer Freed the Dark. He was no longer a killer, no longer evil. He was a member of Fairy Tail.

That awareness immediately brought him back down to earth, and he felt nausea rise in him. What had he done? He advanced towards Dreyar but staggered again and was forced to lean against the bars of a cell while he tried to regain his strength and balance.

He had broken a promise. The only promise he had made to the Fairy Tail Master. He had broken it within a few months. What the hell had he done? He began to feel the terror rising in his back, terrified that everything he had done to change had been in vain. Nausea made him double over, and Freed coughed with tears stinging his eyes.

He was a monster. A killer. Just a cursed child.

He heard Dreyar’s footsteps approaching, and Freed looked up, swallowing hard.

“I’ll take responsibility for everything,” Freed said, petrified to hear his guildmate's incoming judgment, Dreyar, however, tilted his head to the side, his eyes glittering with curiosity.

“How did you do it?” he asked.

Freed blinked in confusion.

“Excuse me?”.

“What spell is that?” Dreyar asked again. “I want to learn it”.

Freed’s eyes widened and he took a step back, straightening his back and avoiding his gaze. Was he crazy?

“You don’t want to do that,” he said. There was no way that the Master’s grandson wanted to learn how to do something like this.

“I want to know what spell it is,” Dreyar insisted. Freed shook his head.

“You can’t learn it anyway. Magic is tied to my eye,” he said. He saw Dreyar grimace and Freed turned to the children who were still locked up and crying. “I’ll tell the Master personally, for now we have to free them.”

“You don’t need to tell the old man,” Dreyar retorted. “Besides, the bastard deserved it,” he added as he opened a cell. Freed gave him a surprised look, but he didn’t say anything else. The mission wasn’t over yet.

-Year X778, Dark Écriture: Darkness-

(17-year-old Laxus, 14-year-old Freed)

Freed wanted to stop. He wanted to cry, scream and stop those attacks. He wanted to kill that darkness, kill that agony, kill the feelings suffocating him. But the only thing he succeeding in killing, were his teammates. It didn’t matter how much he fought; it didn’t matter how much he tried to free himself from the grip. The darkness enveloped him, and he was sinking inside it, letting the demon prevail over him.

Freed felt tears sting his eyes but, he was unable to escape. He couldn’t even control the tears pooling at his chin. He couldn’t do anything; his body was completely out of his control. He could only watch. Watch and suffer from every blow Laxus dealt. Watch and suffer for every blow the demon dealt.

Freed felt small, helpless, useless. But he was just that. He was just a cursed child, just a monster, just a killer. Freed put his hands to his ears in an attempt to drown out the thoughts, but nothing could stop them. Now they were there, they were constantly repeating themselves, filling his brain, echoing through every nerve.

Stop it, stop it!

But they were right; he was a monster. A monster, a murderer, he deserved that pain, he deserved to die, he deserved to sink, he deserved to disappear.

“Fucking hell, do you wanna get goddamn control back?”

Freed heard a scream and saw flashes of electricity piercing him everywhere. They stung and burned, leaving him in excruciating pain. Freed opened his eyes biting back tears, only for another punch hit him, with Laxus’ magic building stronger and stronger in ever more acute pain.

“Stupid kid, what the fuck are you doing, huh?” the voice growled again, and Freed looked up, seeing his teammate keep fighting him. Laxus was right, what the fuck was he doing? Crying and letting the demon seize control? No, he was stronger than that, he was better than that. He wouldn’t let the demon kill his team. He was a member of Fairy Tail, the Captain of the Raijinshuu, the bodyguard of Laxus Dreyar. He had to protect all three. It was his promise. No matter what, he wasn’t going to kill them.

Freed scrambled to stand but was halted by another shock. He gritted his teeth trying to bear it best he could and tried to rise from the darkness. It swelled around him and pulled him down, leaving him suffocated in the darkness. But he could still reach towards the light. Freed knew it. There was always a way to escape.

He growled and forced himself back up, ignoring the pain of lightning and the burning. He just had to think about his teammates and the guild he was a part of. He had to think of his friends, Bickslow and Evergreen. Freed ascended and for a moment stopped the blow the demon wanted to throw, only to sink into its control again.

The demon struck once more. Laxus had wavered for a moment, and the demon was more than happy to take that opportunity. Freed gritted his teeth again, scrambling a second time. The demon was launching another attack but as soon as Freed regained control he held it back. He was already sinking again, but the shock of electricity convinced him to grit his teeth and stay aloft. Then he closed his eyes and pushed all the darkness into himself, into the back of his mind, into his heart, and his soul.

When he finally felt it grow small, he forced himself to open his eyes again, only to see two orange eyes staring at him doubtfully. Laxus had a ready fist with electricity crackling.

“Hope you’re you again,” he growled, and Freed nodded.

“I’m back,” he whispered and Laxus lowered his fist.

Freed realized that he was collapsed on the ground, Laxus at his side.

“Your demon is fucking awesome but you really have to learn to control it,” Laxus snapped as he walked away. Freed didn’t move. He still felt numb from the shocks, dizzy from the fight, and tired as if he had exhausted all of his energy.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Bickslow and Evergreen rushed to his side and helped him sit up. Freed grimaced but held back a groan, even though he could feel injuries covering his skin. It wasn’t the first time he fought Laxus, but God, that was painful. Freed glanced at Laxus and noticed that his leg was injured.

Freed reached out to him.

“I’ll heal your wound,” he said, partly to apologize, partly because he felt guilty. Laxus gave him a dirty look.

“It’s nothing,” he retorted grumpily and stood up. Freed noticed that he was staggering a bit and felt even worse. However, he didn’t dare say anything knowing his pride. Laxus glanced at him as Freed got to his feet, aided by Bickslow and Evergreen. “You should fight with that demon more often, he’s fucking strong,” Laxus said with a grin.

Freed looked up with widening eyes, wondering if he was crazy.

“You saw what happens if I do.”

Laxus rolled his eyes and snorted and took a step toward him. Laxus was close, close enough that their foreheads were almost touching. Freed looked up.

“This happens because you don’t train, kid. You just have to get stronger than the demon, that’s why he takes control.” Laxus turned away and walked away. “Now let’s get this fucking reward, I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Freed couldn’t argue and followed Laxus, refusing the help of Bickslow and Evergreen. As he watched the blond with admiration and respect, a thought formed in his head. Maybe Laxus wasn’t all wrong, maybe the only thing he needed to resist the demon was training.

-Year X781, Freed the Dark-

(20-year-old Laxus, 17-year-old Freed)

“For a kid who wants to follow the rules, you break them quite often.”

Freed’s head jerked up in surprise at the voice. Laxus Dreyar. How did he find him? Freed made sure he wasn’t being followed by anyone when he walked away from Magnolia.

“How did you find me?” he asked aloud this time.

“Easy, I saw that the mission I wanted to take was gone and that you were gone too,” Laxus explained, sitting beside Freed. “Now you have to explain to me why you took a class S mission, especially when you know it’s forbidden,” Laxus commented, crossing his arms behind his head and throwing him a curious look.

“I’ll take full responsibility for my actions,” Freed assured, deflecting the question and staring straight ahead. He didn’t plan on coming back. He would complete that mission at any cost.

“Not if you do it with me,” Laxus retorted. Freed remained silent, refusing to reveal his true motive. “Then I’ll guess,” the Dragon Slayer challenged, glancing at Freed from head to toe.

“You hide under a cloak, in the past this place was headed by Lord Justine, and the mission requires to break a demonic curse written in strange purple characters. I suppose you or your family created the curse, right?” he inquired, and Freed pursed his lips, nervous. The last thing Freed wanted was for anyone to know his past, or to know his family.

“So? Are you going to explain it or do I have to find out all by myself? Because I will,” Laxus challenged. Freed stared at his hands, peering at his guild mark. He knew that Laxus would find out. He was one of the most skilled wizards he knew, and not just physically. It didn’t take a genius to understand that this mission had to do with Freed or his family.

Freed sighed and then looked up at Laxus, who was watching him expectantly.

“Okay,” Freed said. “But you have to promise me that you’ll never tell anyone about it.” Laxus nodded and Freed resolved to speak.

“You’re right, I was the one who launched the curse five years ago. I lived in that villa with my parents” he said, indicating with a nod of his head the large villa located on the hill, surrounded by a black fog, the same one breathed into the city, and the reason the city had asked Fairy Tail for help. “I was part of the Justine family; my father was the lord. It’s not like they really headed over this city. Theoretically, they had no rights other than the territories behind the hill. However, they were feared by everyone for their strength,” he said. “And a few years ago,” he paused for a moment, uncertain. “A few years ago, there was a bad fight, which led to the birth of the curse,” he concluded.

Laxus raised an eyebrow and peered at him.

“I guess that’s not all,” he said. Freed looked away.

“Details aren’t important.”

Laxus snorted and stood up.

“Okay, then let’s go and destroy this curse. I guess I’ll find out of the rest when we get there.” Laxus started towards the hill and Freed hurried after him, making sure his cloak still covered his face well.

“We won’t go into the villa,” he objected.

“It’s not for you to decide” was the dry reply of Laxus.

Freed wasn’t satisfied. He had destroyed the curse in minutes. It was child’s play, but Freed certainly didn’t feel good at it. Since he created the curse, it was quite obvious that eliminating it would be easy. Revisiting the villa had brought back only old memories. Old and terrible memories, and in that moment, Freed had decided that he was going to destroy that house.

He had done it, now he could only look ahead of him at the rubble of what had once been his home. But he still wasn’t satisfied and wanted to let years of anger and fear out. He would eliminate his past, destroy it definitively, destroy every little existence of the Justines, destroy everything that bound him to that place, but he couldn’t do it. He growled as he put his hands on his thighs, exhausted from the amount of magic he had used. An exaggerated amount, since he could have destroyed that building with much less. But he needed to let off steam, and he still needed it.

A new wave of dark magic rose, but he felt Laxus’ hand rest on his shoulder and a felt slight jolt run through him.

“That’s enough,” he said. Freed turned to him, gritting his teeth.

“No,” he growled.

“By now you’ve nothing else to destroy. What you’re doing is pointless and senseless,” the Dragon Slayer retorted harshly. Freed pulled away from his hold.

“Pointless and senseless?” he repeated furiously and again a wave of energy surrounded him. “You’ve no idea what I had to go through, you’ve no idea how much I want to destroy everything here” he growled and Laxus looked at him with an indecipherable expression.

“Tell me then,” he said. Freed turned to the castle, refusing to do anything like that. Laxus wouldn’t have understood anyway, he doubted anyone could. Seeing the rubble and dirt he had raised pissed him off even more. Laxus was right. It was useless, destroying the castle wouldn’t change his past. It wouldn’t change who he had been, nor who he was at that moment.

Frustrated and furious, he collapsed to the ground, trembling and feeling a sudden urge to cry. He didn’t, because Laxus was there and he wouldn’t show himself so vulnerable. He was silent and strangely Laxus sat down next to him, staring at the rubble and silently lighting a cigar.

They stayed like that for a few minutes until Freed’s nerves compelled him to speak.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I’m waiting for the story” was the simple reply from Laxus, who glanced at him, throwing out a puff of smoke. “You hated your parents, didn’t you?”

“I hated my father,” Freed clarified. “I still hate him.”

“Parents can be assholes,” Laxus commented. “So, what did he do?”

Freed almost laughed. He mentally filed through the very long list of things his father had done and hadn’t. The longer he thought about his father the more he resented him, and the more he wanted to go back in time and exact revenge. Now that he was dead, Freed had lost his chance.

“My parents were mages, but they weren’t very powerful. However, they were both very fascinated by wealth and dark magic” he began to explain chronologically, despite the difficulties to remember it in order. Laxus let him speak and Freed continued, unsure why he was telling Laxus. He had never thought of confiding in anyone, and the Dragon Slayer certainly wasn’t his first choice. But he was here now.

“They did business with dark guilds. They found items for them and sold them, or they bought items to then resell to others. Our house was full of those things, and I was a curious child, I wanted to know more. I was fascinated by everything related to magic, so one day I opened a book and read a spell. There was a demon in that book, and I saw that with that spell I could capture his soul and have his magic. My father didn’t pay much attention to me, he thought I was just a child with no magical talent, no matter what I did. I wanted to prove otherwise, so I cast the spell and united our souls.”

“You were a child and was already able to do something like this?” Laxus asked.

“Yeah,” Freed replied. “I think I’ve already proven to be skilled,” he commented coldly and Laxus just gave a half-laugh, puffing more smoke and waving him on.

“It actually worked. I caught my father’s attention all too well. At first, I lost control and feared he would treat me even worse, but he didn’t. He saw potential and he decided to train me. I was very happy, so I did what he said,” Freed said and stopped for a moment, thinking about the training his father had forced him to do. He clenched his hands in two fists and a new wave of hatred overwhelmed him.

“I told you the Justine family was feared. Well, it was because of me. When someone dared to challenge my father, he would bring that person to me and tell me to torture or kill him. Every now and then he even made me do it in public, in the town square. Everyone began to fear him and my father was happy, he felt himself the master of the city” Freed stopped for a moment. “My mother wasn’t happy, and she told me it was wrong to do it, and I knew it. So, one day I refused and… my father blocked my magic and made me understand that refusing him wasn’t allowed, especially in front of other people”.

“Did he beat you?” Laxus asked.

“Yes,” was the dry reply and Laxus snorted.

“Asshole” he growled and Freed turned to him, feeling a little understood. Maybe that was the reason he was comfortable sharing with his teammate.

“My father became more pretentious and crueler. Both with the wizards of the dark guilds, with the city, and with us. I don’t know if it was the wealth or the amount of magical power, he had accumulated that drove him out of his mind, but it happened. And one day he killed my mother,” he said in a distant tone as if he wasn’t talking about his family but something foreign to him.

“I was there, the two of them were arguing because of me and then they started fighting. I knew my dad would win, but I was scared, so I didn’t even try to stop him. My mother was a good woman, I loved her, and since all the children in the city feared me, she was the only person I could have fun with. She was the only one who really loved me. She died because of me in front of my eyes, and I didn’t even try to save her,” he said coldly, reviewing the images of her in his head as if they were part of a movie. He would never forget his mother’s expression, her screams, her lifeless body.

“My father destroyed her body. When I realized she was dead I went mad and my demon took over. I tried to kill my father, but I was still too weak and he stopped me. My father locked me in a room for weeks, torturing me to make me understand who was in charge and what would happen if I failed his orders. I think that’s when I truly started to hate him.”

“I hated him. I hated him so much you can’t imagine. But instead of taking that anger out on him, I took it out on all the innocent people he brought in front of me. If I was hesitant to torture people before, at that moment I began to enjoy it. He was proud of me, but the more he was, the more I hated him”.

“I’ve never forgiven him. I’ve never forgotten that day, and for years I’ve prepared a revenge for him. I wanted to destroy him. But I didn’t want to just kill him, I wanted him to suffer, I wanted him to feel what I had felt all those years, what my mother had felt before she died. And I wanted to take everything away from him. So, I studied for a long time in the library, looking for the most frightening spells, until I found a forbidden curse”.

“This curse would have locked people into an eternal Hell. I was excited, I couldn’t wait to torture him and the men most trusted by him. I prepared everything in advance, away from everyone. I drew the runes around the entire villa. It took me half a year. Every time I thought about the final spell, I enjoyed the sights, I imagined my father’s expression, I imagined him crying, I wanted to make him cry.” Freed’s words poured out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“And finally, the day come. It didn’t go the way I wanted. Even though it had taken me half a year to prepare it, I wasn’t powerful enough. The curse hit my father and it worked. But for only three days. I stayed there for three days hearing my father’s screams and I was delighted. But after only three days he died, I no longer felt anything. I made sure he was really dead, and I was so angry that I destroyed his body. But I still wasn’t satisfied. But it was over now, I couldn’t do anything else. So, I left. I wanted to live in the city, but I heard what they said about me. They all hated me, they called me the monster, the cursed child or Freed the Dark. I left and vowed never to come back,” Freed concluded. Laxus was silent and Freed continued to stare at the rubble for a long time. No words were exchanged between the two.

“This mission was because of the curse. Something went wrong and filled the city with fog,” Freed explained after a while.

“Your father is even worse than mine,” Laxus commented and turned to him. “At least you managed to take revenge.”

“I don’t deserve to be part of Fairy Tail,” Freed murmured, sadness enveloping him.

“You do,” Laxus sternly retorted.

“I’m just a monster,” Freed sighed. Laxus snorted and put out his cigar.

“You’re not what your father decided for you,” Laxus consoled. “You’re much better, and you’ve already proved it. You deserve to be a part of Fairy Tail more than anyone else.” Freed turned to him, surprised at the statement said with complete certainty. Laxus had never been very sensitive, yet he was here. He had listened to him and hadn’t changed his mind about him. Indeed, he had Laxus’ respect and friendship, and it made Freed feel accepted and warm inside. Laxus put his hand on his shoulder.

“You’re a skilled wizard and a good person. And you’re so much better than anything your dad has ever led you to believe,” he added, and Freed could only look into his eyes, feeling overwhelmed by those words in a way that had never happened. “So don’t be ashamed of who you are. Take off this cloak and show that you’re different from your father,” Laxus said and stood up, holding out his hand. Freed took it and stood up without hesitation.

“Thanks,” Freed murmured. Laxus grinned.

“Although, I have to say, Freed the Dark sounds quite threatening. Maybe you should start using it.” Laxus started down the hill. Freed watched him for a while before following him, feeling his heart beating madly. If Laxus, the person who most represented Fairy Tail, told him that, then Freed had no doubt he was right.

I swear Laxus, you won’t regret putting your trust in me, Freed thought, as he walked beside him.

-Year X791, Dark Écriture: Fear-

(23-year-old Laxus, 20-year-old Freed)

The brush ran smoothly through the boy’s hair, who looked at himself in the mirror. He was sitting on the big mattress, and behind him, his mother was singing softly, fixing his hair. Freed hummed the melody to himself and moved his fingers to the rhythm of the song. When the woman put the brush on the bedside table, she smiled in the mirror.

“You like it?” she asked.

Freed ran a hand through his hair, which reached over his shoulders and shrugged.

“It’s just hair,” he said automatically. A phrase that his father constantly repeated every time he saw Freed brush it.

“You don’t like it?” the woman asked softly.

“Father doesn’t care” was the next automatic reply.

“Your father isn’t here,” the woman said and rested her chin on his shoulder. “What do you think about it?” she asked again. Freed observed himself for a long time in the mirror.

“I like it,” he said. His mother smiled and kissed him on the cheek. Then she sat cross-legged on the mattress and grabbed a large hardcover book. Freed turned to her, suddenly curious and excited.

“Will you read me a story?” he asked, and the woman nodded, smiling, looking down at the first page and beginning to read. Freed rested his head on the palms of his hands, curious about the new book.

His mother continued to read aloud, but it became a distant murmur. He heard a scream and then some crying and looked around, trying to understand the sudden foreboding changes. He turned to the mirror but didn’t see the reflection of a child, but that of a teenager. His hair now reached his waist, his face was sharper.

He turned back and was no longer in his room. He was in the garden of his villa, holding a sword. A woman in front of him was crying and pleading. Freed couldn’t understand what she was saying, but of one thing, he was sure. That woman was terrified, and she didn’t want to die. By now, however, her fate had been set.

Freed felt the darkness envelop him, the heat rising through his body. His right eye burned and all his muscles were tense. His lips moved on their own and a single word came out.

“Death,” he whispered.

For a moment, silence fell around him. He no longer heard screams, no tears, no pleas. It was an abnormal silence as if the whole world had fallen silent. The woman put her hands to her chest, winced a couple of times with wide eyes, and then fell back to the ground. A helpless body with a blank expression on her face. Her eyes were full of the terror that had struck her in the moments before death took her.

Freed looked at her and lowered his sword, exhaustion hitting him suddenly. His energy disappeared, and he collapsed. But he didn’t have to. He could stay up, stand up, he didn’t have to let him down.

A hand rested on his shoulder.

“I’m proud of you,” his father said.

Freed raised his head. Two large bright green eyes met his. The little girl was screaming.

“Mom! Mom!” she screamed and Freed stepped back.

“Murderer! Murderer!” the little girl screamed. Freed backed away and crashed into a wall.

“You’re a killer! Give me back my mom!” she kept screaming and Freed wanted to run away. He turned but couldn’t run anywhere. In front of him was the body of Cana, lying in the rubble. Freed stopped and the sword fell from his hands. He was shaking. He wanted to turn around and leave and never return. But he knew that if he did it, it would be worse. That something even worse would happen. The darkness would follow.

As if forced to do so, his face turned to the right. Elfman was there, also lying on the ground. He was perfectly still; his chest was covered with the rune that had killed him. Above him, Mirajane was crying, and she was screaming, and her screams filled his ears.

“Murderer! Murderer!” Freed desperately turned, tried to escape, but stumbled through the rubble, fell to the ground and sank, under the earth. It was all dark, and he felt lost. He tried to fly. He had to get out of there. He had to escape. He had to find a way back home. But something was holding him down.

“Freed” the voice calmed him instantly. Freed turned and was greeted by Laxus.

“Freed,” he repeated, and Freed tried to get closer.

“Laxus, I’m sorry,” Freed breathed through tears.

“You killed him.”

Freed stopped short and Laxus looked away. Whatever void Freed had fallen into had vanished, and he was back down on earth. He was in the center of Fiore’s arena. And in front of him, there was another dead body. Ivan. His armor was shattered; his body was full of wounds. Blood stained the ground beneath him. His eyes were wide with pain and fear. Freed took a step back.

“You killed him,” Laxus said.

Freed looked up, perhaps for a savior, or any sense of peace, but in the stands, there were members of Fairy Tail. They hated him, everyone hated him. He caught the Master’s furious gaze and Freed was still under his glare.

Makarov raised his hand and a powerful light radiated from his palm, Freed tried to bring his arms in front of him to defend himself, pleaded that it wasn’t him, but it was useless. He was outnumbered and outmatched when everything went white.

Freed jumped up, his heart pounding in his chest and sweat sticking his clothes to his body. Terror ran through him and Freed inhaled deeply to attempt to calm himself.

‘It was a nightmare,’ he thought. ‘It was just a nightmare’ But it didn’t help him, because he knew it wasn’t just a nightmare. Because he knew he had really killed that woman years ago. Because he knew he had risked killing Elfman and Cana. Because he knew that when he saw Ivan in the arena, he felt that sudden desire to let himself go to the darker side. Because he wanted to kill the father of the person he loved.

Freed put a hand to his chest feeling his still racing heart. He wanted to throw up and cry.

“Freed, are you okay?”

Freed looked up suddenly. It was Laxus. The boy sat by the fire they had built on their way home from a mission. Freed scanned their campsite. There were two sleeping bags, the small fire, and their backpacks placed on the ground. They had decided to walk home so that Laxus wouldn’t have to take the train.

“Freed?” Laxus called him and Freed turned to him and smiled slightly to reassure him.

“I’m fine, I just had a nightmare,” he explained as he stood up and got out of the sleeping bag. He realized that his clothes were indeed damp with sweat and his hair was sticking to his neck and his clothes.

“You’ve been getting them a lot recently, is something bothering you?” Laxus asked. Freed shook his head.

“No,” he replied simply and sat next to him in front of the fire, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. But Laxus was right, he had been having nightmares for weeks, about his past, about his mother, about the people he had killed, about the people he could have killed, and about the ones he wanted to kill.

He'd had nightmares in the past, namely the Battle of Fairy Tail, and just as he finally began to overcome them, the Grand Magic Games brought them back in full force. And as much as he wanted to banish those thoughts, he just couldn’t seem to do it.

He felt Laxus’ arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t you want to talk about it?” he asked and Freed closed his eyes, leaning against him and closing his eyes. Talk about it with him, of all people? He who had asked him to kill his guildmates? He who was the son of the man Freed wanted to torture to death?

“No,” he said, “I’ll pass.”

He felt Laxus’s gaze fixed on him and his arm comforting him.

“You said my name,” the blond said, and Freed stiffened. “You said my name and then yelled that you weren’t the one who killed them,” he said tonelessly. “You know, I’ve never thought about it too much but I can’t believe I asked you to do something like that. I used you like your father did and I’m sorry. I know you’ll never forgive me but…”.

“I’ve already done that,” Freed said. “We’ve already talked about it. I forgave you Laxus, completely. The only person I haven’t forgiven is myself”.

“My fault,” Laxus murmured.

“No,” Freed tried to say reassuringly. “Laxus, darkness has been with me for a lifetime, it wasn’t you who pulled it out, it wasn’t you who put it in, and it wasn’t you who made me hate it,” he said forcefully. “You helped me instead to make me accept it as part of me, and even though I’m still working on it, it’s to your credit that I can now control the demon. It’s to your credit if I don’t feel horrible for everything I’ve done”.

“But you still have nightmares about the battle of Fairy Tail,” Laxus muttered and Freed shook his head.

“Trust me, that’s not the cause of my nightmares,” he said.

“So, what’s it?” Laxus asked.

Freed didn’t answer. He stared into the flames in front of him while he thought back to the nightmare he had had, the destroyed body of Ivan, the pleas of that woman. Freed didn’t think those nightmares would ever go away, but that wasn’t Laxus’s fault, it was the fault of the darkness that accompanied him and the evil he was hiding and that he was trying to control.

“My greatest fear” he answered simply. He let himself be enveloped by his friend’s embrace.

-Year X793, Dark Écriture: Suffering-

(25-year-old Laxus, 22-year-old Freed)

Freed could still hear the screams of terror of the enemies. He could still hear their pleas and their cries, their prayers, and their despair. And the more he heard them, the better he felt. The more he heard them, the more satisfaction grew inside him. The more he looked at their faces full of terror and pain, the more his soul laughed. There was no escape from that rune and Freed enjoyed every single moment of it.

He wanted it. He wanted to make them feel small. He wanted to make them feel powerless; he craved their terror. He wanted to make them pay for everything they did to his teammates. He wanted them to feel the way they did. He wanted to hear them pray for death. At that point, perhaps Freed would have satisfied them. Though he probably wouldn’t have indulged them.

They deserved it; they had asked for it. They had mistreated his comrades and still had laughed at it. They had enjoyed Fairy Tail’s momentary helplessness. Now it was his turn, and it was right. And if that wasn’t right, Freed didn’t care. It was he who made the rules.

Freed walked down the corridor going out into the fresh air and closing off the screams with the door behind him. He almost wanted to stay there and listen to them longer, but he knew that if he did, he'd seriously risk going mad and giving in to his dark side. And as much as he enjoyed having that dark power, he knew it was best not to go too far.

He walked away and entered the woods, passing all the trees in the shadows of the night and reaching the small stream near Magnolia. He sat down on the ground and looked at the water in front of him.

He didn’t want to get carried away by rage or fury, but he was far too happy to hear those screams. And even though he could no longer hear them now, just knowing that those men were still suffering filled him with a terrifying joy. He knew he would have to let them go sooner or later. He had to do it, fearing his sanity would disappear with each scream.

He heard footsteps behind him and then a voice.

“Are they still in there?” Laxus asked as he sat down behind him and wrapped him in a hug, pulling Freed against him and resting his head against his chest.

“Yes,” Freed said. “They were already begging,” he said with a sadistic smile and felt Laxus’ arms squeeze him even more. Freed felt himself returning to reality and realized what he had said and in what tone. “Sorry, I sound like a monster.” He knew that Laxus avoided gratuitous violence. He could kill someone or fight them if he was pissed off, but torture wasn’t his style. God, he must have found Freed awful. His stomach sunk at the thoughts, but still, Laxus’s proximity helped him. The blond rested his chin on his shoulder.

“I knew who you were from the moment I met you,” he said. “And I never thought you were a monster, you know.”

“I know,” Freed agreed softly. It still seemed strange to him, but it was true. Laxus had never been afraid of him, and he had seen some terrible things.

“Don’t keep them in there any longer,” Laxus murmured, leaving him a kiss on the neck.

“They deserve it,” Freed objected.

“Yes,” Laxus agreed. “But you don’t, and I’d rather you stay with me.”

Freed didn’t answer, knowing what Laxus meant. And he was right, he didn’t have to give up. He could have fun, but without completely abandoning himself. He closed his eyes and leaned completely on Laxus, who was now holding him in a loving embrace that Freed probably didn’t deserve. Even that didn’t interest him. Laxus loved him, Freed loved him, and that was one of the few pure things in Freed’s life. He wouldn’t let him go.

“You know Laxus,” Freed said after a while, placing his hand on Laxus’s and stroking it slowly. “Sometimes I like to be a monster”.

#fraxus #freed x laxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #fanfiction

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emilia3546 · 3 years

Text

Our Future - PoppyCas

Keiran's been left to babysit his little sister for a few hours, nothing could go wrong, or could it? Luckily Poppy is on hand to save him, getting her thinking about families, the future she wants to start with Casteel.

*****

"Your majesty!" Poppy whirled around at the shout, still not entirely accustomed to the title, but smiled warmly at the young wolven running towards her,

"What can I do for you, Laurie?" She asked, chuckling as he shifted to wolven form and back again, shaking his head to regain his bearings,

"Lord Contou asked me to find you,"

"Kieran? He'll laugh to hear you call him that," she chuckled,

"but he is, isn't he?"

"Technically, but I don't think he's ever used that official title, even since we made him advisor,"

"Oh, well, he said he needed your help with something, he didn't say what, but he's waiting at his parents' house."

"Thank you, Laurie, I'll head over there now, if you see him, let Cas know where I've gone." She held up a hand as Laurie made to run off again, "If you see him, don't go out of your way, he'll find us,"

"Yes, your majesty," he muttered, but smiled and waved at Poppy when he reached the edge of the garden, and Poppy resisted the urge to laugh as Laurie vanished. It wouldn't take long to get to Jasper and Kirha's house from here, but she did let out a sigh at the sight of the freshly-planted night-blooming roses, she'd come and check on them later this evening. There was something about Evaemon in the spring that had completely captured her heart, perhaps it was the way that the breeze ruffled through her hair, the scent of flowers floating all around her. Perhaps it was the way that her people smiled and waved when she passed them in the street, but perhaps it was simply the feeling of peace, of safety. She hardly noticed her feet moving, following the same path that she'd walked a thousand times now, at least until she found herself at the Contous' door.

She let herself in, calling Kieran's name, but froze at the sight before her,

"I need your help," Poppy struggled to hold in a laugh at the sight of him holding his baby sister at arms-length, covered in what she hoped was baby food, surrounded by discarded toys. She blinked a few times in surprise, but quietly closed the door, and took the child from Kieran's arms,

"Oh, sweetie, what's he done to you?" She crooned, gently rocking her from side to side,

"Me? Look at what she's done!"

"She's two, Kieran, you're what, two-hundred?"

"Something like that," he muttered, and Poppy snorted with laughter, carrying the child through to the kitchen, carefully cleaning her up, and tickling her when she squirmed, so that she squealed in delight. Kieran sheepishly followed her, still complaining that babies were impossible,

"Go clean up the living room," Poppy ordered, "I'll deal with her,"

"Thank you," she made a face when he kissed her cheek,

"You smell like baby vomit, go shower as well,"

"Not my fault," Kieran insisted, "I don't know babies, Netta was supposed to help, but she got delayed in Spessa's End,"

"Uh-huh," Poppy hummed, "Go clean up," she didn't wait to see if he obeyed before slipping out of the room, and disappearing up the stairs to find a change of clothes for the toddler now wriggling in her arms. "Shhh," she hushed, humming a tune quietly, trying to quieten her down, just long enough to get a clean set of clothes on before wriggling away and dodging Poppy's attempts to catch her. Poppy stopped chasing her, and cocked her head to the side, laughing as the little girl mimicked her, staring at her with those brilliant blue eyes, "Come here," Poppy held out her arms, laughing again when the child shook her head,

"Don't want to," she giggled,

"Come to Auntie Poppy," in that moment of hesitation Poppy lunged forwards and scooped her up, "Do you want to play in the garden?" In a heartbeat, she wasn't holding a child, but a wriggling wolven pup, and she set her down on the ground, laughing again as she raced round her feet, her tail wagging uncontrollably. Kieran was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, "We're going to play in the garden," Poppy explained, grinning at Kieran's shocked look,

"How did you catch her?" He whispered,

"Magic," Poppy chuckled, "You just need to learn to cope with children,"

"I can cope with children," he complained,

"Cas doesn't count," Poppy shot over her shoulder, following Kieran's sister into the garden.

"Hey!" She turned at her husband's voice, "I am not a child,"

"Go and prove it then, she's in the garden," Casteel and Kieran shared a look, but he finally shrugged and passed Poppy to reach the door to the garden. Her heart swelled at the way he immediately took to the task, letting the howling pup pounce on him, and bat at him with her paws. She leaned against the doorway, and ignored Kieran's knowing look,

"You want one," he teased,

"Shut up, we agreed to wait a while,"

"Tell him, if you want one now, just tell him, he's only waiting because you wanted a bit of time to learn to be Queen and to live peacefully first, if you've decided you're ready, just tell him."

"I don't know, maybe he wants time,"

"Maybe, but if you don't tell him you're ready, how can he decide if he is?" Poppy rolled her eyes,

"Now who's asking questions," but Kieran was right, she did want one, she really wanted one, and she knew that Casteel did too, but the thought of it, of their child still frightened her a bit, but in a good way she supposed. She turned her attention back to where joy and contentment was practically radiating off her husband where he was now playing peekaboo with a mortal toddler. Her screams and squeals of delight melted Poppy's heart, and she was so absorbed with watching that she didn't notice the door behind them opening,

"Kieran roped you two in then, did he?" Kirha nudged her son's shoulder as she spoke, "I should have known better than to think he'd actually cope on his own,"

"Mom! I can cope,"

"Then why are Poppy and Casteel here?" Jasper teased, "We can't even go out for lunch without you needing help," Kieran narrowed his eyes and Poppy chuckled again,

"Lunch? You mean all the mess I walked into was just from about an hour?" Kieran grunted, trying to dismiss her attention, but all he managed was to confirm her question.

"Mama!" Kirha grinned as her daughter practically leapt into her arms, "I've been playing with Auntie Poppy, and Uncle Cassy," Poppy snorted at the toddler attempt to pronounce Casteel's name, but politely refused Kirha's offer to stay for dinner, claiming that they'd promised to eat with Casteel's parents that evening, even if she was just trying to avoid adding any extra stress to her life.

*****

The night-blooming roses were absolutely beautiful, they'd taken perfectly, surrounding a pond that glowed silver in the moonlight. Poppy sighed to herself, running a hand through the cool water,

"C'mon, what's the matter?" She shrugged, still not quite sure how to explain her thoughts, "Poppy," Casteel gently turned her chin to face him, "You've been quiet all day, tell me what's on your mind,"

"I don't know," she muttered, "This is lovely," she gestured to the roses, to the rest of the gardens, "Our people are safe, happy,"

"And you're not?"

"No, I am, I just, it's like there's something else I want." She paused for a moment, trying to think about her next words, careful not to end up pushing Casteel into something he might not want yet, "Earlier, at the Contous' place, it just felt right, you know?"

"I do know," Casteel murmured, "You think you're ready?" Poppy nodded,

"I am ready, I want a family, with you, I never really had a chance to think about what I wanted, I assumed I'd never be able to have children, to choose my life, and now we're safe, we have time, I want to. I chose you, and now I want to choose our family." Casteel didn't speak, simply smiled, both dimples appearing, and leaned forward, until his and Poppy's noses were almost touching,

"I want to choose a family too," Poppy's heart leapt when Casteel closed the gap between them, pulling her in by her waist, a hand diving into her hair as he slanted his mouth over hers. Poppy blindly grasped at his shirt, clinging on as she met him move for move, and sighed when he finally pulled back and tucked her into his side, "We should probably get started then," he murmured, chuckling at the way Poppy squirmed slightly at the suggestion, but grinned, and practically dragged him back to their bedroom.

#fanfiction #fanfic #from blood and ash #blood and ash #the crown of gilded bones #tcogb #tcogb spoilers #fbaa #poppy balfour #poppy x casteel #poppycas #kieran contou #kieran #casteel da'neer #casteel #fluff

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im-totally-not-an-alien · 3 years

Text

Final Fantasy 7 prompts #75 (FINAL LIST)

1. Iflana does not trust Cloud, not one bit. She can sense the calamity inside him and wants him to leave. Too bad both her husband and daughter seem enraptured by his very existence. Her husband rambling on about his mutated and 'safer' J-cells, as if that thing could ever be considered safe. Then it was her daughter, who seemed to take him in, as though he was no more than an injured bird needing treatment.

This thing would be the death of them. She just knew it.

2. "In my world its pretty rare for monsters to talk."

The large gray rabbit riding on his head paused to consider this, "Maybe they're just stupid?"

"Duh. They're basically wild animals. They're not really like you Loppy."

"Lopmon." The bunny creature corrected. Again.

Aka Cloud wakes up in the digital world as a twelve year old and has to find his friends...with the help of his partner digimon of course.

3. Genesis used to think mermaids were one of the most beautiful creatures in Ancient lore...until he saw a blond one swallow a fish whole. He wasn't so sure after that.

4. Au where Cloud and the remnants are escaped expiraments from a non-Shinra lab. They travel to Midgar and become mercenaries.

One of them winds up being captured, prompting the other three to rescue them, but they're otherwise preoccupied by normal human things they never got to experience. Loz loves donuts and other sweets, Yazoo adores taking long hot bathes, and Kadaj always seems to have headphones on, etc.

The holy trinity are shocked when the four don't recognize Sephiroth. Genesis also nearly has a heart attack when he catches them roasting a doomrat over an open flame. "You're not actually going to eat that, are you?"

5. Hojos alarm was triggered at three in the morning. Usually this wouldn't be an issue, creatures attempted to escape Shinras (and by extention his) clutches on a regular basis. They were usually recaptured or destroyed within the hour.

What was strange was the fact that this was Jenovas alarm. His goddess tended to not move much beyond bobbing up and down in her tank.

Upon checking the security feed, he witnessed something infuriating. A blond man was holding an armful of wildflowers and bossing around three silver haired teens as they dismantled her shrine and stole her away. Jenova herself seemed...interested? Approving? He wasn't sure, but it looked like she was cooing at them. Further analysis was required.

6. Time travel au, but the whole thing is from Hojos perspective and he suffers

7. Cloud and Reeve were having a discussion about Clouds Jenova abilities and why he never used them, which eventually lead Cloud to picking up a pebble and stating, "Its not like a can just force some of my life energy into a rock and make it a planet"

And then he did. Tfw

8. High fantasy, no materia au.

Magic is rarely seen in humans, rather a tool used by monsters. On the day Clouds mother is murdered his abilities awaken, creating a powerful snowstorm that ripped the town of Nebilhiem apart.

Ten years later and the storm rages on, having grown to cover nearly the entirety of the mountain, rendering communication with nearby kingdoms difficult and travel impossible.

The famed General Rhapsodous is sent to slay whatever great beast is causing this catastrophe. When he is faced with a young man living up there in complete isolation, he chooses to stay with the mysterious man until he can locate the monster.

What will become of Cloud once Genesis discovers the truth? After all, a witch is considered a form of monster.

9. "I should have just remained a puppet!"

Genesis mulled over the words as though they alone could unravel the mystery that is Strife.

Some part of the redhead felt a little bad about using the strange man's emotional outburst against him, but things were getting desperate...

10. Time traveler au where Genesis dresses in drag to save this "Tifa" girl from the Don. He then tries to get her to go to Shinra for questioning and is punched for his efforts

11. Cloud is thrown into a world where he never existed and Shinra still reigns supreme. Worse, he has no memory of who he is or how he got there (cause Jenova destroyed them). He only has his bike and his sword and begins traveling to find a purpose, all while avoiding Shinras detection.

He often stops at inns and rest stops and often sees the same group of people. The large man with a gun arm grew suspicious from seeing him everywhere they went.

___________________________

"Go away."

The knocking came again. "I know you're in there blondie." A gruff voice replied.

"I'm not gay."

The man on the other side of the door began sputtering. "Look," another voice began, "We just need to talk."

"Yeah. Sure. Talk." He said flatly. "In the middle of the night." He went over to the door anyway. Opening it revealed the man with a gun arm and another man with wild black hair.

"Zack?" The blond blurted, startled. What was one of Shinras Supreme doing out here?!

"You remember me!" The man beamed, "SOLDIER First Class Zack Fair, at your service! Now the real question!"

The man leaned down a bit to the mysterious blonds level, "Who are you?"

12. "Can you do it?" The softness of Denzels voice seemed to make the situation all the more horrifying. "Can you kill me?" Eerie mako green eyes stared up at where Cloud stood frozen.

Denzel pulled a knife from the block, "Or will your son kill you?"

Aka Seph plays mind games by possessing the kids from Advent Children and using them to torment Cloud and make him look like a lunatic

13. Cloud gets sent back in time/ alternate reality, ect. but gets turned into a white materia. He's careful not to roll around while people are looking, but that doesn't stop people from saying, "Hey, look! A materia! " and picking him up. He has no real power...other than apparently soothing anyone/anything he comes into contact with.

Strangely, he keeps getting slotted into bracers (among other things) regularly. Ya'll, he's so annoyed.

14. There were two of him. Two Sephiroths. The blond began regulating his breathing, desperately trying to ward off an ensuing panic attack. He wouldn't stand a chance if they decided to work together.

Luckily, one insulted the other and thus a catfight of epic proportions began, all while Cloud had a panic attack in some long forgotten closet.

15. Au where child Sephiroth overhears a scientist talking about her 'prayers being answered' and he asks her what that meant. After a brief explanation, he later prays to anyone who can hear him to get him out of the labs and/or away from Hojo.

It works.

Bonus: Cloud and Sephiroth were fighting again in the Midgar desert when Sephiroth slashed the air, creating a portal. He had intended to use it to appear behind his puppet and impale him again, but the blond rushed forward and slashed through the portal with his own sword, expecting the portal to disappear as he sailed through were it once was.

Unfortunately, it was still very much there. Just...different. Cloud wasn't given the chance to properly examine it before the feeling of being plunged into ice water overwhelmed him and he was spat out on the other side.

It was another desert, but not like the one he left. He could feel no life here. No plants, no animals, no...no lifestream. The only thing around is another version of him. One that was used and abandoned by the Sephiroth of this world.

The other blond stared at him in confusion, wielding twin sabers in a defensive position.

#ff7 #sephiroth #ffvii #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #ff7 story prompts #tumblr prompt

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halloweenhoneylover · 4 years

Text

the star puzzle

summary: based on 5x13 (bc long hair reid rights) in which emily tells a funny little story and spencer is the sweetest know-it-all :’) (spencer x fem!reader)

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: i haven’t written for fun in the hottest second and im embarrassed so pls don’t roast!!! also trying my hand at romance is scary ahahaha how do yall do this

Emily’s nose wrinkled slightly.

Damn puzzle.

She fidgeted with two wooden pieces, and the sounds of them dully clinking against each other drew the attention of a certain doctor. With squinted eyes, he observed her fumbling for a moment before muttering a quick, “What is that?”

“It’s called a star puzzle. It’s basically impossible to figure out.” The resignation was clear in her tone. She’d been trying to put together this unbelievably frustrating puzzle for the past fifteen minutes, and she felt further from figuring it out than when she began. Utterly infuriating. “You have to put all of the pieces back together to form a perfect star. But the origin of it is kinda a romantic tale.”

Your ear perked up a bit, your interest thoroughly piqued. Always a sucker for a little romance, a small grin tugged at your lips as you quietly tucked the corner of your page down and shut your book. Ms. Austen could wait a little longer. Perhaps love stories were for the naive, but who were you to deny yourself the small rush of joy of hearing about two people fall in love? Your eyes flickered towards Spencer for the briefest of moments, and your smile widened ever so slightly. I wouldn’t mind falling in love with him. As if that process wasn’t already well underway. So you settled further in your seat on the couch to listen to Emily.

“There was this young prince who wanted to win the heart of the fairest maiden in the land.”

At this, Spencer’s heart skipped, and he spared a fleeting glance to his right at the girl on the couch who had the most endearing smile on her face as she intently watched Emily. The fairest maiden in all the land, he thought as his cheeks flushed slightly. He was quite familiar with the prince’s endeavors.

“So he climbed to the top of the tallest tower in the kingdom, and he caught a falling star for her. Unfortunately, he was so excited, that he dropped it, and it smashed into all of these pieces. So he frantically put it back together to prove his undying love to her, and he succeeded, and they lived happily ever after.”

A moment of silence and a furrowed brow.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Emily narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t catch a falling star. It would burn up in the atmosphere.” You could almost hear the cogs in the poor boy’s head turning as he tried to grasp the meaning of her words. Amusement danced across Rossi’s features as he shared a knowing look with Emily.

“Yeah, but it’s not literal, Reid. It’s a fable.”

“But there’s no moral. Fables have morals.” You ducked your head in an attempt to suppress the laugh bubbling in your chest and the blush painting your cheeks. As always, you were fascinated by the mechanisms of Dr. Reid’s mind. And by the look of confusion on his face, a look that only made you more smitten which you had thought was an impossible task by now.

“Okay so it’s just a romantic little story—the point is it’s basically impossible to do because you have to take all of those pieces and fit them together exactly….” She trailed off, watching him easily fit together the pieces she’d been agonizing over for far too long. His nimble fingers were purposeful in their task and within seconds, produced the desired star. Emily’s jaw dropped. That little son of a—

For a moment, he looked at the star, reveling in his success with a somewhat smug smirk (he loved solving puzzles), before a thought popped into his head. Turning his gaze to the right, he caught your eye as you gawked at the puzzle. He gave you that signature tight-lipped smile that made your heart swell and wordlessly offered you the star.

Your breath caught, and for some reason, you couldn’t look away, and neither could he. So you both sat there in this little moment of stillness on the edge of revelation. This felt so much bigger than one friend offering another a look at a stupid little puzzle, but there was that underlying current of fear, of ‘we both want this so, so much, but neither of us can say that this means more because what if they don’t feel the same way.’ Hesitation had locked you in place, but screw it. A little breathless and a lot of warmth buzzing in your chest, you finally recovered your expression from your previous look of utter amazement and took the star.

You took the star.

Spencer thought he could still hear the air humming from that second-long moment that felt like a freaking hour, and his fingers were buzzing from where yours had brushed his for the most minuscule of moments, he couldn’t stop the smile that split his face wide open. He didn’t know if you took it to look at his handiwork, or to give your approval, or to accept this profession of his undying love for you, but whatever it meant, you took the star, and that was enough for now.

Staring down at the wooden puzzle in your hands, you focused so intensely because you needed a moment to recover from whatever the hell just happened. Maybe you blacked out for a minute and were in heaven for the entirety of three seconds, or maybe you’ve watched When Harry Met Sally too many times to not have a skewed perception of romance and friendship, but he had to have felt that, right? There was no way he didn’t have his world turned upside down by that incredibly small interaction—or maybe you’re just way too in love with him to be judging things correctly. Either way, you’re somewhat surprised the star hasn’t completely burst into flames under the intensity of your stare, and you try to grapple with what just happened and what comes next.

“Not too shabby, Dr. Reid.” It comes out as the ghost of a whisper because you’re not sure you could have managed any more than that. The smoldering remains of your previous grin haunt your lips as you finally summon the courage to meet his eyes again.

He’s beaming.

“Why, thank you, Miss (Y/L/N).”

And you can’t help but mirror him.

Wide eyes and the most knowing smirks you’ve ever seen are silently flying around the jet as the others look at each other to confirm, are you seeing this? It’s been extremely apparent, the burgeoning crushes between the two youngest members, and this is just the icing on the freaking cake. Dear Morgan is just bursting at the seams, knowing that the next moment he gets the good doctor alone, he will be teasing him to the highest heaven. Maybe Reid’s new nickname will be ‘young prince.’ Morgan is sure he will love that (he won’t). And poor, poor Garcia, gripping her knitting needles so tightly that they might be pulverized, cannot even slightly suppress the glowing of her heart as she watches her two most favorite people fall even more in love, and by God, if she’s not going to do something about it. What she’s going to do, she’s not quite sure, but she has the rest of this plane ride to figure it out, and when she does know, it’s gonna be good, and they’re going to get together and be together forever. Simple, really.

Yet, Emily might be the most pleased of them all. This was absolutely not her intention when she had told the story of the prince and the maiden, but by no means was she opposed to the outcome. Her grin was contagious as she locked eyes with Rossi and JJ and even Hotch, breaking his ever-so-stoic demeanor. She could not wait to claim responsibility for their inevitable relationship, and boy, what a story she’d have for their wedding because of course, marriage is inevitable too. At least for these two, it seems.

When finally the silence stretched on too long and the team’s gaze weighed too heavy on the young almost-lovers, they startled out of their reverie with nervous chuckles and burning cheeks. You handed the star back to Emily, “Neat little thing!”

“Sure is,” she replied with the most frustratingly canny smirk. You avoided her eyes; it was clear what they were insinuating.

Spencer stared down at the book in his lap, trying to resist the painfully strong urge to watch you for a little while longer as you tried to steer the conversation to easier topics. He was a little afraid of how enamored he was because it was a lot. A lot a lot. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and let the tension from his shoulders fall as he carefully fingered the binding of Pride and Prejudice. He’d only really picked it up because you suggested it. ‘I know you’re not very into romance,’ you had said. ‘But I’ll still think you’ll enjoy it. Mrs. Bennet never fails to make me smile, so at the very least, I think you’ll get a laugh out of it.’ He thought it was funny the way you buffered your suggestion, as if he wouldn’t do anything you asked him. And it was true. Mrs. Bennet made him laugh too, but he found himself more and more enthralled by the relationship unfolding between Miss Bennett and Mr. Darcy. He was going soft, and he had a sneaking suspicion as to why (or a very clear reason that was just really hard to come to terms with) (ie., his overwhelming love for you). He gave in to his urges and glanced back up.

He was met by your perpetual grin as you chatted softly with Emily. As your eyebrows raised or your nose scrunched, he let the butterflies in his stomach roam free. They were uncomfortable in the best way possible. Satisfied with one last look at you, he reopened the book and tried to keep reading, but his thoughts ran rampant. He’d given you a little star puzzle, a star to represent his undying love for you. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He knew he couldn’t catch a falling star, but he’d find a way if that’s what you wanted. A faint smile graced his lips as he thought, I’d do anything. If she wanted it, I’d give her anything. I’d give her every star in the sky.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid

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smallestchances · 3 years

Text

The Fourth Horseman (Thor x Reader)

synopsis: thor has done everything in his power to be seen as an actual powerhouse and threat to the mobs of new york, but the council of the horsemen are in the way. knowing they could lose everything they’ve built, mor goes to the people she knows can make things happen, and strikes a deal with the apocalypse wives.

word count: 4.9k

a/n: Welcome to the first installment of the Apocalypse wives!! Buckle up for a ride and send in asks when you’re ready for more :)

warnings: cursing, slight smut, mentions of abuse & murder

MASTERLIST /// WIVES!MASTERLIST

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

You were a lot of things to a lot of people. Some people knew you as a determined spitfire who was fierce, protective, and not afraid to get her hands dirty for the people she loved. They knew you were an amazing friend.

Others knew you were an even worse enemy.

They knew you as an unforgiving bitch who painted her nails with the blood of those who wronged her. You were an unbothered, spoiled witch who wouldn't know humility if it was beneath your red-bottomed heel.

Thor knew that you were all of those things on a good day.

You sat with him now, in the middle of SHIELD. It served as the hottest and the most dangerous club in the state, and therefore your meeting place. Thor's hand is fit snugly around your waist, the sheer panel of your body suit allowing you to feel a semblance of his touch.

He's happy at the moment--genuinely happy and it's something you haven't seen in a long time. You can only look at him fondly, the low light of the club highlighting his jaw and the laugh lines that appear. His eyes twinkle as he talks with Loki, their relationship finally repaired after the trickster was fatally wounded trying to save your husband’s life.

Though you're still skeptical of the mischief maker, you have yet to remember the last time you saw Thor this happy. Knowing this is the only reason you've allowed Loki to build his way back into your lives, you let him know that you have a dagger with his name on it should his loyalties change again.

As they talk, your eyes can’t help but linger to the exclusive third floor of the club — the circular balconies that complement the hollow interior of the building. The people up there sneer at those below, and you feel your jaw tick. Escorts, wannabes, and the closest inner circles of the underground world are found up there, and you knew that's where Thor belonged.

Three years. Three years, you and Thor had to fight and claw your way to get anywhere in the mafia world, and still you weren't at the top. Thor has already gained throes of power, influence, and support.

You just had to take him further.

"He won't be a problem."

Thor's words snap you back to the brothers' conversation, realizing the tone has taken a turn.

"You've only experienced Odin's grace," Loki replies. "He knows how to keep the appearance of kindness. Don't forget that I know his wrath more than anyone else.”

Thor swallows heavily at the reminder of his father's sins. "Loki—“

"No need for pity brother,” Loki interrupts, a genuine smile creeping on his face. "Despite my past, I've finally found a way to win against certain demons. I've gained you, a home, a psychotic sister-in-law—”

You wink at him.

"I'm in a better place than before," Loki concludes. "However, Father sees you taking me in as a personal slight. That, coupled with your growing success—“

"We've become his targets,” Thor finishes.

Those simple words cause the bass of the club music to become white noise. Blinking rapidly, you sit up quickly, leaning forward into Thor's space. "Your father now has you both on a hit list?” The disgust can’t help but drip from your voice. Loki only nods. Your eyes fall to the floor, tracing the patterned tiles as you process the information. "What does Frigga know about this?”

Thor makes a noise at the back of his throat. "Mother was the one who warned us."

You nod, chewing on your lip. "So we take him down first.”

Both men clear their throat sharply, Loki looking around cautiously. “Odin is the oldest living patriarch of the New York’s...companies. He has the support of the Horsemen— taking him down will not be simple."

"Nor should we announce it so blatantly my love," Thor shifts, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, and his arms never leaving your sides.

"Your coward of a father wants to assassinate his sons because of the power they've gained,” is all you can grit out. “Something has to be done—”

“If we move too quickly, then we risk losing everything,” Loki interrupts. “Odin will declare us as enemies, and per his requests, he'll have the arsenal of Conquest, the men of Famine, and the tactics of Pestilence at his fingertips. Right now, we don't stand a chance.”

You bite the inside of your cheek harder, going through what you know of the Horsemen and their capabilities. You yourself have had little interaction with the infamous mobster, once before you married Thor and once to get Loki out of his clutches of abuse. He’s well known for being the first Horseman to retire instead of die, but his seat of War hasn’t been empty for long.

Frigga, his wife, was the one you knew well and respected. You knew her as a woman who did the best in every circumstance she found herself in, and fell in love with a man who changed too much before she realized what happened. Frigga had one of the largest hearts you knew, and you were certain she was the only reason the Asgardians were still standing as a viable threat.

"Without the council, we can defeat him," Thor mumbles.

Loki answers with a sarcastic laugh, downing the last shot on the table. "Turning the Council on a veteran member is impossible; especially since we don't have an insight into their ranks.” He gestures to the third floor of SHIELD. "We either lay low and build an army...or surrender while we still can."

You scoff at the two suggestions, rolling your eyes only to balk at the fact that Thor has yet to answer. "You can't seriously be considering this," you spit at him. At the answering silence, you slide off his lap to the far end of the couch. If we build an army, we’ll be forced to outsource outside of New York— and that means making the horseman an even bigger enemy for after the war. Don't even get me started on what these potential ‘allies’ will want.”

"And surrendering is not an option,” is all Thor mumbles, his jaw ticking as he rubs his palms together nervously. "Do we strike a deal?”

You stand abruptly, avoiding Thor’s sorrowful stare as you barely announce that you’re going to grab more drinks. You don’t want to hear another word of their conversation, but their words echo through your head as you descend the stairs to the first floor. Pushing past bodies, your mind barely registers that you pick up the pace when the bar is within eye-distance.

After ordering your drink of choice, you scrub a hand over your face in an attempt to clear all the thoughts in your head. You have half a mind to try to take out Odin yourself and with your bare hands, but you know everything Loki said was right.

Thor was so close to the finish line. He’d tried so hard to establish his reign separate from his father’s, trying to do better for the people and the misfits that found their way to him. Odin had started to spit on the values of being a Horseman, even towards the end of his reign. He allowed his community to fall and even hung Frigga out to deal with his coming consequences, and Thor got tired of it when it got too close to the people he loved.

Just thinking about the night everything came to a head, and how far you all have come, your eyes unconsciously float to the third floor.

There.

There, you find a glimpse of the very men Thor & Loki spoke about. Tony Stark, Conquest; Steve Rogers, Famine; & Bucky Barnes, Pestilence.To the left of them, you find another group that everyone else in the club seems to have looked over.

Stunning under the multicolored lights, their skin tones are radiant as their tailor made attire fit their body types marvelously. They seem to be keeping to themselves, talking to each other in low tones, while holding themselves differently than the escorts around them.

The Wives.

You take a thoughtful sip of your drink as a glimpse of a thought passes through your brain...and you lie in wait to prove your theory. You don’t have to wait long as a commotion brings your attention back to the Horsemen, and you find Conquest and Pestilence unusually close to each other, tempers flaring.

Pestilence gets shoved back by Famine, and just as things comes to a head, faster than lightning, the Wives are there. Sekhmet Stark’s arms have wrapped around Conquest, Hecate Barnes has the attention of Pestilence solely on her, and Kali Rogers has found Famine’s lips on hers.

And that’s the moment that you knew the solution to your problem--well Thor’s problem. You’re almost vibrating in joy as you down the rest of your drink before going back up to the stairs.

Its surprisingly easy to get up to the third floor--just until you make it to the glass doors that separate the landing from the exclusive section.

Straight ahead, on a raised dias, you see that the Wives have returned to their place, with Sekhmet in the center, Kali to her left, and Cate to her right.

Taking a deep breath, you hold your head high and push the glass doors aside--just to be stopped by a bouncer.

“No walk-ins. Exclusive VIP only.”

You simply raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Exclusive Personnel only,” he repeats.

You flash him a wicked smile and tilt your head to the side, trying to give him as much of a condescending look as you can muster. Satisfaction fills you as the bouncer deflates just slightly. You try your luck as you step forward again, but stopped again.

“Who are you,” he asks, but the waver in his voice gives him away.

You see your window, and cross your arms while pursing your lips. “I’m going to pretend you didn't ask that and let you go this time around.”

He doesn’t move. “I cant let you in.”

“Really? Fine,” you shrug. “Explain to the Wives why you’re keeping them waiting.”

When the bouncer looks back at the women you mentioned, you know he’s exactly where you want him. “I’m going to have to loop back to you--”

You snap your name impatiently, and he mumbles it back with a nod before walking away. You wait with baited breath, knowing that with this stunt you could either end up with a bullet in your skull or the world at your feet.

Your throat tightens when you catch Sekhmet’s gaze.

When the bouncer makes his way back to you, he looks pale and motions with his head for you to follow him. “I’m so sorry (Y/N),” he says. “Right this way.”

You don’t allow yourself to breathe, even as you walk the short path to where you want to be. You feel curious eyes on you, but you don’t shy away from either of them, and instead hold your head higher as if you’re meant to be there--because you were.

Sekhmet stands when you both reach the Wives, a sharp, gleeful smile on her face as she opens her arms up in expectation. “Darling! Hello, so nice to see you again!”

The pleasantries continue with all the wives until you’ve sat in the middle of them, and you know it’s the most dangerous place to be.

When the bouncer walks away, the smiles drop.

“Who the fuck are you?” Is what Sekhmet demands, her eyes focused solely on you.

You don’t put down your guard, but you cooly reach for one of the full glasses of drinks on the table before all of you. You take your time taking a sip. “I’m someone who knows who you all are,” you say when you’re ready.

Hecate simply hums in unamusement. “Are we supposed to be impressed?”

“As if the wives of the most powerful men in new york are a secret,” Kali giggles.

You don’t let their words phase you. You hum back in response. “See I know that you’re the very people who keep New York from burning to the ground.”

A surprised silence follow your statement, before Sekhmet picks up the next words quickly and carefully. “I don’t think I know what you mean,” she smiles.

You roll your eyes. “Mind you, this is coming from someone who understands just what you hold within your palms.”

The next silence stands longer. Hecate leans in, her hands gripping the couch beneath, her eyes intense as they pour into you. “How do you know you’re right?”

You let a small smile slip, and take another sip before gesturing down to where you can see your husband and Loki still speaking intensely. “Thor. I love him to death, I really do, and there’s not a heart out there that I wouldn’t rip out for him. He has power, a lot of it, and he's starting to develop quite a hold on New York.”

Kali nods. “Thor Odinson. I’ve heard of him.” She tilts her head to the side, looking out into space. “That New Jersey border deal was ingenious, I’m disappointed a Horseman didn’t execute it.”

Her words get grunts of agreement, and pride swells in your chest,

“You & I both know that Thor didn’t have a hand in that deal until he showed up the day he needed to,” you giggled, and they stare at you openly.

“Well shit,” Sekhmet laughs out loud, picking up her own glass.

Before you know it, you’re toasting with the most powerful women in New York, laughing with them and even exchanging high fives.

“I told y’all a man couldn’t pull that off!” Sekhmet cackles.

Hecate nods. “It was too good to be true.”

“We didn’t know he had a wife,” Kali winks.

Smiling with them, the anxiety in your chest lessens.

“So what do you need?”

Sekhmet’s words bring back the somber mood, and you laugh nervously. “What do you mean?

Kali speaks up seamlessly. “Thor is the eldest son of Odin. Odin, the retired horseman of War, who controls the upper parts of New York as the Asgardians. If Thor’s wife has enough pussy to show up uninvited to confront us, you can’t expect us to believe you don't want anything.”

Looking at them all, you decide to lay all your cards out on the table. “Odin is going after Thor.”

No one replies, so you continue.

“Loki & Thor have made amends and their father now sees them as a threat to his empire. He’s going to call on the Horsemen to wage War…” you trail off, cursing internally as they exchange looks. “But by the look on your faces I’m guessing he already has.”

Kali only nods. “He approached them with a meeting this morning. The old dick had the audacity to pull rank and get me thrown out of the room when I spoke against him.” She takes a deep gulp of her drink, her jaw clenching at the memory.

The hope that allowed you to strut your way into the third floor comes back tenfold. “So you aren’t on his side?”

“Fuck no,`” Hecate snorts. “I’ve unfortunately seen every side of that man when he and Brock were on the council together and…” she trails off, her eyes distant. “New York has never seen a darker time. How Frigga stays with him, I’ll never understand.”

“Even with all the power as she has, he won’t let her leave,” you mumble. The conversation comes at a standstill, but a tense once that allows all of you to look in upon your own relationships--and just how bad it could get. Clearing your throat, you go in. “Don’t support him.”

No one answers you, but you see curiosity glint within the eyes of the Wives.

“Talk to the Horsemen,” you continue, sliding to the edge of your seat. “I know you have more sway than I ever could if I talked to them. Don’t allow them to back Odin, let him hang to dry and I’ll take care of the rest with Thor & Loki.”

Kali is the one who answers you. “Unfortunately, they’re not allowed to just sit this one out. If The Horsemen stand aside when something as big as this happens we’ll look like we’re going soft.”

“And I swear to you,” you promise lowly. “That any retaliation you face will be borne by Thor & I. On the blood of my heart, I will do anything for you if you step back for this and let us take him down.”

Your heart has crawled into your throat, pulsing so strongly you don’t know if you can breathe. They haven’t said no outright, and you could practically taste the possibilities, taste exactly what you & your husband can achieve--

“On your heart?” Hecate repeats.

You nod sternly. “On my heart.”

Hecate and Kali merely look at Sekhmet. She gives you a thoughtful look, and blinks slowly, tipping her head down slightly. “Seems we have a lot to talk about. Will you give us some space?”

The last question is directed at you, and you can’t help but nod vehemently and stand up. “Of course,” you breathe, walking away.

You bite your lip hard enough to force yourself not to look back.

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

Sekhi’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she leans back heavily onto the bathroom mirror. Gripping the edge of the counter tightly, a strangled moan rips out of her throat as her husband’s lips wrapped around her clit, sucking at just the right pressure. Wetness drips down the junction of her thighs, and still Tony takes it all in stride, moaning vulgarly at her sounds. He lets up only slightly to grab Sekhi’s hand to shove it into his hair, and it gives her enough space to remember that she had another objective when she got him alone.

“We--” She moans when his lips reattach and tug his face away from her core. He lets her breath, only to lap at her cum on her inner thighs. “We have to drop Odin,” She finally breathes out.

He only sighs, pausing to give her a quick peck on the skin he was worshipping. “That is not the name I want on your lips right now.”

“We cant—Tony!--we can’t endorse him for his war.”

With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly gets up and places both his hands on either side of his wife. He leans in and she automatically reciprocates, lips meeting to exchange tastes. When they finally pull away, Tony speaks. “Since you won’t let it go...why the sudden interest in Odin, and betraying him.”

His words unconsciously allow a memory to flash behind Sekhi’s eyes, and she shakes it away just as quickly as it’s come. “You don't…” She tries to find the words before restarting. “I know he welcomed you into the Horsemen and helped you build your empire...but that man who sat in as War is not the same man today. He’s an ass, too much of a risk, volatile—”

Tony shrugs. “People say the same about me.”

“Tony, you can’t imagine the things he’s done,” is all she snaps back. “Since he’s retired he’s—”

Her lips run dry as the memory scratches again. Warm palms cup her chin and bring her gaze to meet warm brown eyes flooded with concern. “He’s what? Baby, has he done something?”

Even though his words are soft, you hear the threat behind it. The underlying danger that follows Conquest. Sekhi reaches up and holds his hands in hers, kissing his palm softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me—”

“Tony.”

After a moment he backs down and nods solemnly. He drops his hands back to their previous position on the counter. “Okay. Say we don’t back him. You know we have to choose a side in this or we’ll look vulnerable.”

“So choose Thor’s.”

Tony stills in thought before stepping closer to his wife. “I’m listening.”

——-

“If we back Thor, Odin doesn’t stand a chance.”

Steve turns over Kali’s words in his head, rubbing her calf that’s been thrown over his lap. He ignores the bustle of the club around him, the quiet corner they’ve found the perfect setting for their conversation.

“He’d be decimated without too much of a fight,” he mumbles.

“Exactly.” Kali leans closer into him, lacing his fingers with hers at her ankles. “We support Thor, and gain his loyalty now...I’ve heard things. Things stirring in the air about him and how powerful he’s becoming. We show that he’s not a threat, that he's on our side—”

“And he immediately isn’t a threat any more. He becomes an ally.”

“Bingo,” Kali smiles brightly. “And, he’s just reconciled with Loki, meaning he’s got one of the biggest minds in the game on his team.”

Steve nods, turning his head to look her in the eyes. “So what you’re saying is we take him into one of our sectors.”

Kali shakes her head. “I’m saying more than that my love.”

——-

Bucky downs his shot before scrubbing a rough hand down his face. “You’re suggesting he becomes a Horseman.”

Hecate nods.

Bucky can only sigh while pointing his eyes to heaven. “Doll—”

His wife only groans, wrapping her arms around his waist so that he can’t help but absorb him into her. “You’ve never said no to me before, don’t you dare start now.”

Bucky laughs nervously. “I’m not. But think about it, if we turn against Odin, we’re deliberately breaking the laws that say he’s under our constant protection after he’s left the table. If we break them now, there’s no turning back.”

“You won’t be breaking it! You’ll be bending it.” Hecate shines an innocent smile at him, trying to press her nose into his as their foreheads lie together. “The title is merely passing down onto his son--as it should have, had Odin kept his actions honourable. Thor’ll have the loyalty of Asgard, Frigga, and the men he has now. No one will fault you.”

Bucky doesn’t answer.

“Bucky!”

He groans. “I get it doll, I do. I’m as fond of that man as you are, but we’d have to have hard evidence that he’s broken our bylaws before we do. And even if we did, swearing in a new horseman is not a decision only I get to make…” Bucky trails off, sighing with a short laugh. “By the look on your face I’m guessing the girls are already on it.”

“Maybe.” Hecate gives her husband a quick peck on his lips, once, twice, until he melts into her. “Just tell me you’re on my side. You’re with me, aren’t you Buck?”

“Yea doll...I’m with you.”

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

When the bouncer comes down to meet you on the second floor, it takes everything in you to prevent yourself from smiling. You just know.

As he escorts the three of you onto the third floor of SHIELD, you feel the men beside you tense even as you relax. When the bouncer called you by name, Thor’s eyes haven’t left you.

“My love,” his deep timber resonates deep within you, caution in his voice. “What’ve you done.”

You meet his gaze levelly. “What needed to be done.”

Your husband doesn’t answer you before staring straight ahead again, the hallways you all turn becoming less and less populated until you find yourself within black marble halls.

“You work quickly,” Loki chuckles lowly in your ear.

“Enough to keep the title of psychotic sister in law?”

He smirks at you. “Seems so.”

The bouncer stops abruptly in front of a heavily bolted door, and after typing in a code it swings open. You lead the way in, but then hang back to grasp onto Thor’s forearm. He allows you to, but he’s tense and you bristle at the fact that he doesn’t respond immediately to your touch.

But the way he angles himself between you and the most powerful mobsters in the room, with the way his fingers flex towards his gun--you know he’s not directly angry at you.

Sekhmet, Kali and Hecate sit on the opposite side of the room, in a similar set up to the one you infiltrated merely half an hour before. Their faces are nonchalant, but when Sekhemet winks at you, no words can describe the relief and the pure joy that passes through you.

Tony, Steve, & Bucky stand between you and the Wives, and you know you all will fit perfectly.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Tony says cordially, gesturing towards the couches in front of them. Bucky goes off to the side to pour a drink, and Thor’s eyes trail him carefully. “How do you feel about hypotheticals?”

Loki takes it upon himself to sit first, and you follow, tugging your husband along. Only when you’re both sitting does he reply.

“I find them fun to indulge in…” He trails off, grasping the glass that Bucky hands him, not even bothering to take a sip before he sets it down.

“Then indulge with us.” Bucky smiles, and within a blink of an eye everyone has guns pulled out on you.

The tension in the room is palpable, and Thor stands defensively in front of both you and Loki. The latter presses a small knife into your hand, before standing beside his brother.

“Let’s say you come in here,” Steve smiles, shrugging casually, his grip on his weapon firm. “As an invited guest of the Horsemen. You have the audacity to not drink the wonderful poison Pestilence has poured for you, so things have to get a little messier than intended.”

Tony is the one who continues. “We’re feeling creative, so we shoot you in the kneecaps, to make you helpless. We shoot your wife between the eyes to make it quick. Your brother, however, we make it slow. “ Thor’s whole body clenches tightly. “We get all the information out of him, about your home base, your arsenal, your men--”

“And then we kill him,” Bucky takes it up. “We let you go. You’re no threat, your empire belongs to us, and the most important people in your life are dead.”

“What would you do about it?” Steve finishes.

Thor stays quiet for a really long time. No one takes their eyes off of him, and he takes his time to look Tony, Steve, and Bucky straight in the eye. You wait with baited breath on just exactly he might do, ready to fight your way out if needed--if he wanted you to.

It’s when he presses his chest directly against the barrel of Tony’s gun that your breath hitches, and you scoot slightly towards him.

“I’d leave, and thank you for sparing my life,” Thor answers. “A year down the road, I’d have enough physical therapy to start walking again, with a cane most likely. I’d make it a nice one, lightweight but made of vibranium to give it leverage, with the names of who I lost engraved on the stem. Two years down the road, I have all of your whereabouts, your routines, your dealings, your accounts, all under the sole of my shoe.

“Year three, I let you know I’m co ming. But I make it slow. I take out the men around you, so you know I’m on my way, and when I finally get to you?” Thor steps closer, but Tony keeps his gun steady. “I incapacitate you with the head of my cane, just in the right spots of your kneecaps to make it irreversible. I shoot your girls in between the eyes to make it quick, and I kill Rhodey, Sam & Natasha slowly. For them to give me information I already know. When I’m done with them, I kill you all myself, but make sure to watch the life leave your eyes as your blood pools around my feet. The last bullet I’ll leave for myself.”

The standstill is unbearable. Thor’s confessions hang heavily within the air, and it doesn’t dissipate when Tony puts his gun away, the others following suit.

“Gosh, you’re morbid,” he chuckles. “And three years? Seems a little tedious.”

Everyone goes back to casual stances around the room, but Thor stays clenched in the same spot. Loki looks at him warily, and you notice the way the others see that he hasn’t calmed down.

You get up from your spot on the couch, dragging your hand across the back of his waist leisurely. That simply action causes him to deflate, and he watches you walk over to the Wives, who have a drink ready for you.

“Personally, I think their smartest plan was getting rid of me,” you declare, and laughs that resonate through the room.

“Getting rid of you? I was the one that they kept around for information,” Loki challenges.

“Mmm, maybe. But obviously they killed the biggest threat first.”

Thor looks at you fondly as everyone laughs again, watching you toast with Sekhmet, Kali & Hecate.

“As pleasant as this exchange has been,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Is there a reason you brought me here besides to threaten my wife and my brother?”

Kali nudges you on the shoulder, and you take the sign to walk up to him slowly. He presses you into him immediately, and watches as Tony approaches him with a glass of gin.

When Thor gives it a side glance, he merely rolls his eyes and takes a sip before handing it over. Your husband takes it gladly, but just before he’s about to take a sip, Tony’s words stop him.

“How do you feel about becoming a Horseman?”

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

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ginanosakka · 3 years

Text

The Mind of a Monster

Masterlist

I’m Sorry | Next

“Daddy, why does everyone look like that?” Your young and bright eyes stared up at your father’s, his own having no light or warmth in them, not even as he looked at you.

The smile that crept onto his face scared you, but you smiled back nonetheless like the naive little girl you were, just wanting to return your father’s love. In truth, you had been scared the moment you entered his company office, the automatic shift in energy when he walked in the room from all his employees had you fiddling with your fingers and doing your best to avoid eye contact. It was confusing to you why he wanted you to come with him today to introduce you to his work, but he never greeted anyone or even acknowledged their existence.

You wished you had paid closer attention and broken from his leash sooner.

“My dear, you’ll learn soon enough that these are inferior beings, and how they feel mean nothing when it comes to success.”

Sitting in a conference room filled with heroes was one thing, but sitting in a conference room full of heroes being debriefed on your secret criminal business father was another. Seeing all of these familiar faces made your palms sweaty and an anxious shiver go down your spine. They were all the former class 1-A students who met your father —whether that was by coincidence of scheduling, or these were the ones who couldn’t believe the case at hand, you didn’t know. None of them were as close as Mina and Katsuki so this truthfully had nothing to do with the past, but everything to do with the present news that came out not too long ago.

They were helping to protect their old friend’s child, and his now speculated ‘wife’.

“. . . I can’t give you any more information than that, the old bastard has all of his dirty work under security, but there’s someone who can.” Katsuki said, and you looked up at him from your spot next to Ashido and Kirishima, vacating your thoughts to meet his eyes that had landed on you. “Y/N.” He called, and you stood up from your seat.

You glanced at them all again, taking note of their very clear interest while finding the words to help them understand what you knew. It wasn’t just the ones who you had just seen again for the first time in years, this was also information and a plan that you had not run through with Katsuki, Mina, or Eijirou who had discussed this meeting with you beforehand. Whether it was because all three of them looked so concerned with your safety that your plan would positively not be received well, or simply because you yourself weren’t prepared to put everything at stake wasn’t abundantly clear.

A warm and soft hand grabbed hold of yours from where you stood, and you glanced at Mina to see her smiling with encouragement. “Don’t worry, I’ll have your back, ‘kay?” She said, and you squeezed her hand.

“Okay then. First things first, I want you all to know that I haven’t had contact with him since the last year you have all seen me, not even money related. When I was in close contact with him, I was unaware of any illegal actions he’d done until I was kicked out. Are there any questions on that?” You began, doing your best to get the most obvious questions out of the way first.

The eight heroes in the room — Tokoyami, Sero, Kaminari, Todoroki, Uraraka, Ashido, Kirishima, and Bakugou — all glanced at each other for a moment, and two hands went up: Todoroki, Kaminari. You looked to Todoroki first, his dual colored eyes piercing into yours like he knew you. From what you remembered from all that hero news Ryu loved, he had his own personal family issues that ended up public information. Honestly, you didn’t know if he was looking at you like that because he related to you, or was greatly suspicious of you. Either way, you nodded at him to voice his questions first.

“Did your father use you to fulfill his own goals?”

“Todoroki, let’s stick to questions that have something to do with the crimes and just her father.” Kirishima sweatdropped, and you could see Katsuki’s expression from the corner of your eye that looked like he wanted to send an AP shot right through his left side.

‘Never let him ask me anything, good to know.’

“Kami- Chargebolt, you had a question.” You redirected the attention to Denki who looked as done with Todoroki as the rest of the group, but once you called on him he refocused on you.

“If you knew he was doing illegal stuff at some point, why didn’t you say anything to the police before?” He asked.

The air became thick in the room, and all of them looked at you with their full attention once again, and that’s how you needed it to answer that. What they were about to take on may not be physically exhausting as a villain, but the mental toll this could take would be something they’d never forget. Their images will forever be changed in the media, and they’ll never look at those who run this world the same when you expose to them the man that they’d only met as a hopeful teenager. This was a man who would stop at nothing to stay on top, even going as far as to threaten his own blood’s life to ensure silence.

“When I got kicked out of my home, pregnant and a disgrace to him, he realized that I may not have known much about how the underground business he did, but I could easily stain his image by telling my story. About a month after I was kicked out, when I was two months pregnant, a man showed up at the hotel I was staying at and attempted to kill my baby. I survived with bruises and a stab wound that entered just between my rib cage instead of directly into my stomach. That man was hired by my father to kill me. . my mother had come to the hospital to break that news to me. She is the reason another attempt hadn’t been made on my life, but it was at the cost of me disappearing and never returning again.” You laid out the full story, sparing gruesome details but not leaving any room for confusion or continued suspicion.

Denki looked horrified as he tried to apologize, “I didn’t think he did something like that to you. I’m-“

You cut him off with a raised hand, “that’s why you’re here now. No one knows how evil Eito L/N is, because he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing to the public. This isn’t your routine evidence and arrest case, and if you think there’s a low that my dear old father won’t reach to make me disappear, you’re going to end up dead, or so far in the gutter of negative media attention that your career will be over in days. You’re going to find out information that will destroy the relationship between you and the men that have made you heroes. As we speak, he is most likely ten steps ahead of us all and expecting us to move as quietly as we can for the sake of your licenses and my business.” You explained, and Uraraka stood up in distress.

“Then we should be looking for evidence! Doesn’t this mean you could be being followed right now? Why are we sitting here discussing it?” She asked, and you nodded in agreement at her words.

“You’re right, but there’s a quick end to this that only I can do at the risk of my own life. . I didn’t go over this with any of you, and I deeply apologize for the trouble I will soon be causing, but I can’t let all of you save my life while I lay down and cower with my son.”

You whipped out your phone and searched up the first news outlet that came to mind, and just as you expected, your video was being played as you spoke. You laid it out on the table after turning the sound up, watching the video you had recorded last night played to the public.

“I am Y/N L/N, the daughter of a very well known man, Eito L/N. Six years ago, he told the public that I went overseas in search of a different life, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In actuality, six years ago, Eito kicked me out of his home after finding out I was pregnant and used that story to cover up my disappearance. I have since been living on my own with no help or contact from my father, and I urge all of you to look closer at those in power and wealth. You have no idea what they could be doing behind closed doors. Thank you.” You turned your phone off and slipped in back in your pocket as they all took in what you had done, and it was of course Katsuki who spoke up first.

“What the hell did you do?!” He growled, and you met his concerned and angry eyes with frightening intent.

“I’m making this a media circus, Dyanmight,” you smiled.

“You’re drawing him out, but why? Won’t that make this worst?” Tokoyami asked, but you weren’t the one to answer.

“He doesn’t know what she’s going to do. . she’s making it impossible to keep his tracks covered.” Todoroki looked at you, and you both nodded at each other in complete understanding. “Y/N just made this a lot easier for us.”

A/N: I was gonna keep dad’s name neutral, but it just didn’t make sense that they all would constantly refer to him as her father. So evil dad’s name is Eito! This is pretty much a small filler before we reach our real drama and end. I can’t promise a soon update and the hiatus is still very much in motion, but I wanted to get this out to you. I hope you enjoy!

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #bakugo x reader #x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha angst #katsuki bakugo x y/n #anime x reader #bnha x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima x reader

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years

Text

It’s Just a Movie: Part 10 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

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Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 1849

You and the boys had been discussing their plan for the past two weeks, having kept track on your notes app in your phone. The first few days had just been with what their ending 'goal' was, which turned out to be harder than you thought for them to agree. Well, for you and them to agree. When you proposed their desired ending, Dwayne had quickly said,

"Kill Sam and the Frogs." And Marko was quick to second him. It seemed that neither of them were quick to forget their killers, even if you were sure the only reason Dwayne wanted the Frogs dead was because they went after Laddie. You, however, were quick to argue,

"They're kids, guys." And, before they could appall you with any loose morals, you added, "Plus, Max is gonna tell you to turn Sam, remember?" But neither of them seemed too bothered by only being able to kill the Frogs. So, you reminded them, "They haven't done anything yet. They might not even suspect vampires exist yet." You pointed out, and the boys frowned. After a few days, you got them to agree to only kill them if they attempted to kill them first. Quickly, you tried to steer them in a different direction.

It was decided fairly quickly that the boys wouldn't be able to disobey Max once he ordered them to turn the boys, and it would be near impossible to get to them beforehand. So, you suggested,

"Well, why don't we just try to make Max's plan work? I mean, it wouldn't be too bad having Lucy for a mom, right?" You offered, but the boys exchanged a glance as they mulled it over. Lucy was sweet, kind to her boys, and probably wouldn't force them to change. And, with how much freedom she gave Michael and Sam, they could imagine that their lives wouldn't be all that affected. You tried to defend her case, but, as David eloquently put,

"That's exactly why she shouldn't end up with Max." He said, and you frowned.

“He can’t be that bad...right?” But even you didn’t really know. You remembered the ending, where he didn’t even bat an eye, let alone shed a tear, at the death of one of his ‘sons’. Without missing a beat, Paul said,

“He’s a dick.” You expected a slap of the head from Dwayne or a look from David. When neither came, you let out an uneasy breath. So, it seemed that Max's 'Blood-sucking Brady Bunch' was out of the question. When you pushed the topic of Max, it was decided that perhaps his ending shouldn't be all that changed. By the end of the first couple of days, it was decided that Max would die, and that David would take his place as the head vampire. You had to admit that it seemed to make more sense, with how detached the boys already were from their sire. And because it had technically been Maxs fault for their deaths in the first place. But, making sure Max bit it and they didn't was definitely going to make things more difficult. Especially when you factored in Star and Laddie.

“Wait, why are we turning Star again?” Marko asked. It was a couple days later and the five of you were eating pizza in the cave, having already visited the boardwalk. You, Marko, and Paul sat on the floor while Dwayne laid sprawled out on the couch and David sat in his chair. You were revisiting your ideas for how they were going to change the future, and you were doing a rebriefing of what the five of you had agreed on. Really, with having been there for two weeks, it was the only thing to keep your mind off of the improbability of you ever going home.

“She’s the one that’s gonna lure Michael in.” Paul reminded him, reaching over to snag one of your fries. You batted his hand away, and he gave you a grin as he popped it into his mouth. Marko scoffed, shaking his head.

“And why do we need to lure him in again? I mean, we already saw how that goes.” He grumbled, and you tried to choose your words carefully. He was always a little tense during these discussions, as his death would be the first you’d need to avoid.

“If we stray too far from the movie, then we have no idea how the events will turn out. And no idea how to prevent any near-death experiences.” You reminded. It was the exact reason that you had crossed out the potential of keeping the Emersons away completely. “We’re only gonna change some minor things, so Michael still needs to be turned into a half for everything to work.” You said calmly, and he let out a long sigh. He pushed the pizza box away from him, and your fries away from you before he laid your head in your lap. Over the past week, the boys had gotten comfortable with you. Almost a little too comfortable. While you hadn’t done anything with any of them yet, platonic affection didn’t seem to bother any of them. Even if Paul constantly offered otherwise. You already knew what he expected, and you gently began twirling his curls and scratching his scalp.

“But he’s such a poser.” Marko said, and you couldn’t help your smile at the use of slang. Your mind instantly flashed to when he bought the leather jacket, and then the earring. He seemed to try so hard to fit in, or perhaps impress, that you hadn’t even considered that that might describe him perfectly. You watched as his face relaxed, his eyes fluttering closed as you used your nails to scratch one of his sweet spots.

“Yeah, but he’ll be human again when Grandpa kills Max, and then you won’t have to worry about him anymore.” You said, and you didn’t notice the small smile on David’s face as he watched you calm the blonde vampire. Marko let out another sigh, before wriggling his way further into your lap. He let out a small grunt, apparently satisfied enough to stop his arguing. For the meantime. After a moment, you added, “Plus, you won’t have to watch Laddie all the time with Star.” You said, giving Dwayne a look. He had been reading a book, and he perked up at the mention of the little boys name. When he looked over and saw that you were already looking at him, he was quick to look back down at the piece of literature in his hands. Paul let out a small snicker, and you smiled.

You knew that, while he would never admit it, Dwayne was eager to meet the little boy that had become so close to him during the movie. It was like he was awaiting the birth of his younger brother, even if the little boy was already walking around somewhere. Though, you and David had silently agreed not to discuss the fate of the young boy. While the five of you could plan your ideal ending all you wanted, the most important thing was being able to roll with the punches and to be realistic. And, well, Laddie had stuck to Star more than he had stuck to the brunette haired boy.

With keeping most of the story-line and only a fraction of the ending the same, there was only one part of your plan left undecided.

“So, how are you gonna stop Sam from coming down here with the Frogs?” You asked. There was, of course, the expected chorus of,

“Kill the frogs.” From Dwayne and Marko. It was a frequently revisited issue, and the five of you had yet to agree. You had to make sure you spent their nights with them after Paul, surprisingly, had suggested finding their comic book store earlier that week. But, before you could argue your usual point over again, David said,

“We don’t have to kill them. We don’t even have to stop Sam from meeting them.” And you were quick to arch a brow. Paul let out an audible,

“Huh?” And Marko and Dwayne both sat up to look at their leader. It was an undiscussed idea, but, from the way David said it, you guessed that he’d been sitting on it for a few days now. It seemed that whatever ideas he had, he was finally willing to share them. He took a drag of his cigarette, before he began to elaborate.

“You said it yourself, y/n. We can’t risk going too far from the movie. We just have to make sure that Sam and the Frogs think that Max is the head vampire, and a few other things.” He added the last part vaguely, and you stared at him. With the way the edges of his lips curled, you were positive he was leaving you in suspense on purpose. You sighed, giving him a look. Finally, you asked,

“Like what?” And you watched the way his smile grew. He seemed to love whenever you gave in to his egging, and he supplied you with,

“Like thinking that by killing him it’ll turn all his children back to being human. Including us.” He said, and you felt your jaw fall for a moment before you quickly recovered. You didn’t want to inflate his ego, even if he already looked immensely satisfied with your reaction. Paul let out a low whistle before he said,

“Shit. That’s perfect. Michael will totally-”

“He’ll treat us like Star and Laddie. Same with Sam.” Marko finished for him, even if Paul went on rambling. He rambled about how they could blame the murders on vampire instinct, lack of human memory, or play into the thirst for sympathy. Or how they could make it almost hero-like by saying they only went after assholes. Dwayne, his deep voice cutting through Pauls chatter, said,

“And Grandpa won’t go after us. Not if we could be saved.” And you stared at all of them. It was a good plan. A great one. But, you could only think of one fatal flaw in it, and it was staring you in the face.

“Do you really expect them to believe you though?” You asked David. No matter how charming they could be, you didn’t expect them to really be that stupid. And it wasn’t something that they could just naturally bring up to Star and Michael without it raising some sort of suspicion from the pair. Especially when the Frogs were so hell-bent on killing all vampires, even if said vampire was only a half and a child. Davids smile turned into a smirk, and he gave you a small shake of his head as he said,

“Oh, not at all.” And confusion filled your face. You stared at the pale boy, his stubble dusting his cheeks and his hair practically glowing in the light. The smoke from the end of his cigarette curled and floated towards the ceiling as he said, “I expect them to believe you.”

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #paul the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader

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justimajin · 3 years

Text

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt.7

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut

↳ (3.8k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating, the angst is strong with this one

gif credit.

➟ Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

➟ Next Update: Tuesday, February 2

The home is somewhat cozy.

It’s smaller than the one you and Namjoon have been occupying, doors and rooms completely foreign. There’s a serene meadow nearby that remains you of the garden, and within the interior of the house lies a surprisingly expansive assortment of spiraling halls, all leading into different directions.

The aftermath of your sudden kidnapping led Namjoon to the decision of temporarily retreating elsewhere.

“It’s not much, but it’s definitely doable.” He explains, pacing around the bedroom and double checking the various drawers for clothes, “I don’t think we’ll be here too long, but there seems to be enough supplies.”

You remain seated on the edge of the bed, eyes staring at the ground in silence. Namjoon quickly glances outside the window before resuming to take apparel out of them.

“We should be safe here.” He hurriedly says, carefully placing the clothes aside, “I haven’t been able to get into contact with my family either, so I’m hoping they know to stay under the radar after discovering our absence. In fact, I‒”

“You knew….”

Your voice is incredibly faint, akin to a whisper. He’s crouched down on the ground, hands clasped around a cotton shirt when they freeze in place.

Slowing rising from his spot, he turns to face you. The first thing that captures his attention is the accumulation of tears within your eyes, your features twisting.

“W-Why didn’t you just kill me?”

He walks closer to you, “Y/N…”

Your facade snaps, no longer able to play a game of pretend.

“I was sent to spy on you, Namjoon!” You rise from the bed, stalking towards him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “I was going to kill you!”

“Y/N!” You abruptly glance up, startled from his tone.

Namjoon holds a pained expression, and carefully holds your hands, just like you had reached out for his as you stopped him from going to work, “I-I’m not going to kill you….”

You can only stare, eyes wet and teeth digging into your bottom lip. The discovery has been killing you on the inside, the sinking awareness that he was capable of getting rid of you within any split second and that he knows, he knows of everything you’ve done in that house.

It’s slowly driving you insane….and it terrifies you.

“But why?!” You cry out, “I’ve killed Taehyung, I’ve murdered Eunjoo!”

Your hands frantically tremble, voice cracking, “What’s stopping me from killing you…?”

A wave of tears run down your cheeks and your quivering hands raise to cover your face. Amidst of contemplating everything you’ve done, you can’t understand his actions and it serves to make you wonder why you’re even here.

Why even bring someone as horrible as you into this house?

His arms immediately wrap around you, tugging you closer. Your head rests against his shoulder, sobs amplifying.

Namjoon sighs, his chest rising and deflating, “Honestly nothing is, if you ask me.”

He truthfully admits it ‒ you do have the power to end his life, and he knows that, “But I accepted that being with you meant that I couldn’t interfere with your work and I wasn’t planning to either, Y/N.”

“Y-You were waiting… you were waiting for me to kill you….” You shake your head as Namjoon continues to hold you, “I-I’ve killed so many people Namjoon…”

Somehow, his knowledge and awareness makes you want to confess it all ‒ confess how much your hands have been horribly tainted.

“I know, Y/N.” He whispers, “I know.”

The wedding has commenced.

An union between families has been forged.

And Namjoon is no longer a single man.

“I’d like to leave for bed now.” You smile, painting a look of exhaustion after conversing with Namjoon and his parents, “I’m feeling quite tired.”

“Of course, of course!” Namjoon’s mother understandably waves you off as Namjoon’s father wraps a hand around his son.

“Go on, Y/N! We need to catch up anyways!” His father says, smiling at him.

Namjoon stiffens in his hold as you depart, following after his father into a separate room.

The moment the door shuts close, the warm tone in Namjoon’s eyes turns cold. There’s a dark look in his father’s irises as he crosses his arms and leans against the wooden desk, staring at his son intently.

He already knows what words he’s about to spew, and it's something his father acknowledges.

“You know already, don’t you? Of what those pesky L/N’s sent into your home?”

Namjoon hums, meeting the latter’s stare intently, “How long do you intend on keeping her around before getting rid of her?”

“Perhaps for all of eternity.” His father lets out a snarl, but Namjoon challengingly quirks up a brow in retaliation.

“Are you being serious?” He slams his fist against the table, “Do you even hear what you’re saying?!”

Namjoon’s mouth twitches, “I’ve already told you and mother multiple times ‒ I plan on marrying only once.”

“So you’re going to have a L/N spy for a wife?! And bury this empire to the ground?!”

“As the next heir, what I do to the business will be out of my own accord,” He sharply retorts, “And Y/N....has me for a husband. I’m no better than she is.”

His father’s face turns bright red, angry veins running through his neck. Thankfully he doesn’t notice how Namjoon’s voice softens when he speaks of you, or the way there’s something spurring silently within his eyes, something that begins with pure curiosity and ends with wishing for a reflection.

“You will bring our empire to its downfall.”

Namjoon smiles.

“Then so be it.”

***

Kim Namjoon is blind.

He doesn’t speak nor scrutinize, not a word leaving him as he notices a small wire sticking out from the bedroom window, ironically appearing to just be a simple one used for electricity but perfect enough to be connected to a static code receptor.

He doesn’t retaliate with anything when you coincidentally arrive at his office with the excuse of bringing his forgotten lunch, painting on naive eyes during the meeting he holds with the shareholders of his company. He becomes aloof to their glares and scoffs, granting you complete access without being intrusive, and yet without any of his own actions, your exterior cracks ‒ breaking it on purpose to protect and defend your own family.

His eyes flicker at witnessing your intent firsthand and without hesitation, he offers his help even if it meant welcoming deceit with open arms.

Perhaps that act makes Namjoon hopeful, too hopeful in fact, when he draws more interest in you and wants to know more, even if your words are filled with lies and twisted truths. Perhaps his curiosity of who his wife truly is becomes too much for him to handle, that he must simply know about the person behind the mask, the person he saw at the altar that was avoiding his gaze and looking terrified beyond belief. He sees her again briefly when you begin to indulge him about your life before becoming a spy, but Namjoon can already pinpoint that he’s too hopeful as your mask surfaces again, innocently maneuvering yourself into being allowed to accompany him to his company’s warehouse.

It makes him wonder, wonder if he was truly playing himself into a trap. If his father was right in a way, if he should simply cut off his hopeful ties and ultimately step away before it’s too late.

But Namjoon decides to do something different, he decides to do something that you might be horribly frightened by, but he won’t ever hesitate to do.

He becomes truthful.

He tells you everything, what his business is, what his family is, what he is, and he can clearly see it. The terror that swims within your eyes, the astonishment that crosses you with being confronted by the truth and the hesitation, the very hesitation that drives his hopes up higher than they could be.

But there’s one factor that Namjoon underestimated, and that’s how far you were willing to go to fulfill your role.

He hates how late it took him to realize, scorns at how the combination of your sudden nausea coupled with Taehyung’s departure wasn’t obvious enough for him to decipher.

The moment he comes back home that day, it’s strangely silent. He assumed that Eunjoo would be around and that you were perhaps consulting with her about your health, but the moment he rushes up the stairs, he can see it all.

It looks squeaky clean, save for the few drops of blood stuck to the underside of one of the carpets that would have been easily ignored.

Abruptly, the sound of the shower alerts him, and he knows exactly where the culprit is.

He knocks on the door, carefully leaning his ear against the wood.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you feeling better?”

“Y-Yeah...I’m feeling much better, Namjoon.”

His eyes narrow. The sound of water restricts his ability to hear properly and gives you a sufficient reason not to face him at the moment, and your voice is hesitant and deeper than usual.

The incident happened very close to his arrival, and you’ve been injured in the process.

“Alright….I’ll just be here, if you need anything.”

Before heading off to bed, he attempts to assess the situation to the best of his ability.

Taehyung left shortly after you were feeling sick and was convinced that having you around was a bad call on his part. If Namjoon doesn’t hear from him tomorrow, it’s highly likely that he was able to figure the truth about your identity and decided to finish the job himself, ultimately failing.

Eunjoo is nowhere inside the house. She doesn’t leave at sporadic times with informing him or leaving behind a notice, making it possible that she unintentionally found out who you were and decided to take action.

There was only one simple method you could have used to render them silent.

His back hits the wall as he squeezes his eyes shut, a deep remorseful sigh leaving his lips.

“Why did the two of you need to get involved in this?”

After that night, Namjoon sees a stark difference within you. It’s almost like there’s a deep crack within the surface of your mask, your own worries and concerns easily leaking out.

And you make no move to sew it up.

It brings him to the point where he even convinces you to go back home, that maybe leaving all this would grant some peace of mind to you. In the process, he was even able to keep the investigation under control and the spotlight away from you, as his involvement and words were trusted more than anything.

But of course, your collective duties to your families reigns higher than anything.

Ultimately, he knew solely getting involved in the investigation placed him in threatening territory. That as subjected, he would be able to easily decipher your actions and be given the opportunity to compromise your identity.

So what better way was there, than to get rid of him? To pretend your husband met with an unfortunate incident, all while to cover up your tracks along the way?

It was his last day ‒ he knew it. He would have to conclusively tie up your investigation in such a way that you would never be found out as the culprit. His perceived demise led to him parting a farewell gift for you as well, something he had hoped he would have survived long enough to see you wear.

But when given the golden opportunity, you casted away your ensuing aim, choosing to save him instead.

After taking time to calm down, a question lingers in your mind for Namjoon.

“A-Are you going to tell anyone?” You wonder, peering over at the opposite side of the bed where he sits, “About me…?”

Namjoon looks away from the window, instantly shaking his head, “Of course not.”

Although his answer spreads relief through you, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “But I do have to say, having a wife that was prepared to secretly kill me would have made a really good brunch story.”

You let out an exhale, shaking your head with a smile that manages to crack through, “My family won’t know about you either, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that my life is in danger.”

At the mention of prior events, you crane your head to the side and narrow your eyes.

“It’s strange.” You place a pondering finger on your lips, “No one ever informed me that the Kim family was being targeted….”

Eyes suddenly widening, an abrupt thought sparks in your mind.

Your voice drops into a whisper, “My mission…”

“Huh?” Namjoon leans forward, attempting to catch a glimpse of you. Turning around, there’s dread in your eyes.

“My mission.” You repeat, firmer this time. “It’s been compromised.”

Recognition spreads through his irises as you uncomfortably shift.

The feeling of a target resting on your back as well makes your stomach wind up into a thousand knots.

“Well, are you going to follow through with it?”

Your brows furrow immediately, answer coming through without hesitation, “No.”

“Then the best way to combat it is to act as if nothing ever happened.” Namjoon explains, “They don’t need to know that someone is aware of your true identity.”

Your eyes twinkle with the information, “Then I’ll need to set up some kind of communication line with them.”

For this to work, you’ll need to keep in touch and send false reports through. However, your hopes dwindle with the knowledge that you don’t have any of your equipment with you.

As if he knows exactly what you're thinking, Namjoon quirks up a smile and slides off the bed. He reaches his hand out to you, which you take in confusion.

“Come on, I still need to show you the rest of the house.”

***

Namjoon ends up leading you to a separate hallway, one that’s extremely lengthy and almost never ending until you reach a door you wouldn’t have been able to find yourself. As Namjoon knocks against it and presses his ear against the door, you notice a handful of maids walking by, some sending you friendly smiles that you return.

The door opens and Namjoon gestures you inside.

You’re greeted to the sight of two men in the room. One of them leans against a wooden table with his arms crossed, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and his brown hair considerably tousled. The other sits at the same table, his cheeks full and blonde hair parted to the side.

The blonde haired man eyes are wide, staring at you in fascination.

“Is this her?” He immediately blurts out, and when Namjoon nods, he instantly gets up and rushes over.

A breathtaking angelic smile spreads across his features as he reaches his hand out, “Hi, it’s great to finally meet you.”

You return the gesture but are puzzled with the interaction, your eyes swaying over to Namjoon. The man with the glasses stands up straighter, walking over to you with his hands in his pockets.

His gaze is scrutinizing and there’s a faint twinkle residing within his irises. “Do you know who we are?”

You're hesitant to answer, shaking your head.

He immediately scoffs, eyes blazing with anger, “You never mentioned us?!”

At the sound of his spiking loud tone, Namjoon sheepishly smiles and just shrugs. The man scoffs again, shaking his head.

The action makes your mind churn, and the more you stare at the two, the more bits and pieces of information begin to weave together.

Something suddenly flickers within your eyes, jaw instantly dropping down. Your finger shakingly points towards him in awe.

“K-Kim Seokjin….” Your sight moves over to the man you just shook hands with, pupils widening with more realization, “and Park Jimin?”

A smug smile crosses Seokjin’s lips, “Ah so you do know who we are, Miss Y/N.”

His voice gives off the inkling that he knows just as much about you as you know of him ‒ even doubting that his extensive knowledge is perceptive and aware of more.

“I’ve only seen the two of you a handful of times,” You turn to Namjoon, “When I was familiarizing myself with individuals involved in the business, we had plenty of photographs and records on each person and the tasks they oversee.”

“‒But there were some individuals that barely had any information on them. They would be spotted near you from time to time and aside from just a name, those parties remained a mystery.”

Your eyes flicker up again, oscillating between the two. Seokjin smiles, appearing impressed with your ability to remember the trivial matters.

Namjoon steps forward, offering up an explanation, “I think it’s great that we don’t need an introduction, but it’ll probably surprise you to know that Seokjin and Jimin are shareholders within my company.”

Your jaw instantly drops and Namjoon chuckles, “I’d like to call them my secret shareholders, because aside from funding and aiding me with my company, they’re both equipped with other skills.”

At the mention of it, Jimin lets a small smile slip out and Seokjin’s eyes twinkle. “They’re the only ones I can truly trust and because of that, I don’t expose them to the world and they know to keep a low profile.”

You nod, slowly processing the information. It's still baffling to know that despite the amount of rigorous training and memorization you’ve done to prepare yourself for this task, there was still something missing that you wouldn’t have known until Namjoon told you himself.

And their ultimate purpose is something he eventually explains.

“The reason why I’m introducing you to them is because they will be staying with us until it’s safe to return home,” He points to Seokjin, “And I wanted to bring you to someone that knows communication lines inside and out, so that you can send your reports back.”

Your wide eyes come into contact with Seokjin’s, and he begins to back away, gesturing to you as he heads towards the door. You take it as a sign that you need to follow after him, leaving Namjoon and Jimin behind as you exit.

He leads you down a separate hall, entering a room with multiple devices attached to the walls. There’s various cords and headsets that mimic your initial intelligence reporting within the dark corridor, alongside computers with jargon written on them.

Your first reaction is to simply stare in awe, “Wow….”

Seokjin smiles, flopping down on a chair and wheeling himself over to a computer. He hands you a headset, beginning to type frantically on one of the computers.

“This is how you’re going to hear the signals being sent through.” Spinning around in his chair, he grabs onto a bronze and steel contraption and gives it to you, “This is an upgraded version of a telegraph sounder that connects to these computers and should allow you to send information via morse code.”

Your eyes instantly light up in recognition and you begin to carefully tap against the metal, noticing a reception signal forecasting onto the screen. Seokjin points it out to you right away and begins to type something into the keyboard.

“This technology is so advanced….” You mumble, eyeing the screen keenly.

“It’s good for using multiple lines when the signal you’re sending out isn’t just being received by one location.” Seokjin explains.

You hum, continue to test out the machinery. Seokjin hooks you up to the same line you were using to communicate previously and when a successful correspondence is sent through, he grins.

After assisting you through the process, you start sending the information over like usual. Seokjin glances at his phone, slowly rising from his seat.

“I have to get back to the others.” He guides you to sit where he was, letting you take over completely, “Namjoon wants to discuss the events of what happened with you two.”

You nod, eyes glued with the screen and occupied with decoding and understanding the message you receive. “If you need anymore help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

You quickly nod and Seokjin carefully exits the room, attempting to disturb you in the middle of communicating. Your hands work furiously to decode the messages, pupils rapidly flickering all over the screen.

However in the midst of this process, you don’t notice the abrupt static coming through from a screen that was previously turned off.

***

By the time you leave the room, you are thoroughly exhausted.

It seems so far things are under control, though you were vigorously questioned on the delay of your previous mission. A tumble of excuses are conjured within a spindle of minutes, differing from your simple inability to do so due to your husband constantly being occupied with your investigation and the fact that he has been remaining underneath the spotlight. Regardless, it seems acceptable enough and though displeased ‒ you’re reminded that the job must be conducted efficiently as soon as possible.

Wiping your clammy hands against one another, you peer around the hallways. It’s still considerably mind spinning to understand where the long expansive pathways lead to, especially in such a small house, but a friendly smile greets you right away.

“Miss Y/N?”

You whirl around to see one of the maids you had passed by earlier on, and she bows before you.

“Master Kim alerted me that you were in this room.” She explains, “He’s been waiting for you.”

You nod in retaliation, following after her. Your eyes begin to roam around, noticing the fine wood carvings on each door and the way there are multiple rooms in the current corridor you’re in. It doesn’t seem much like a house but more so like a mansion with its endless ways.

The maid leading you abruptly stops and you tilt your head to the side, attempting to see what was before her. The sight of a window greets you instantly and you raise an eyebrow, but suddenly it dawns upon you that you’re no longer in the same hallway anymore.

Instantly, your eyes snap up and the maid swivels, her hands wrapping firmly around your mouth from behind. You erratically kick your legs and attempt to grab onto bundles of her hair, but your shoes are soon dragging against the carpet.

Your brows shoot up in alarm when more maids begin to pool in ‒ one of them begins to strenuously wrap a broken wire around your hands as another gives the first maid a damp piece of cloth. They immediately switch places, the fabric pressed right against your nose as you furiously push away from them with muffled grunts.

Suddenly a wave of vertigo hits you and your eyes begin to frantically dart around, barely being able to focus on the way a cool breeze hits your face.

As seconds fly by, your limbs fall limp and your pupils roll back in your sockets, rendering you completely unconscious.

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