#but then would rise immediately from those ashes with a confidence he’d never thought he’d feel again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bakusquad-assemble · 3 years

Text

The Conference room

Genre: enemies to “lovers”, but they’re both emotionally stunted and don’t know how to express themselves.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x bratty fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ content, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, degradation, hate sex, Bakugou catching feelings

Word count: 4.7k

Description: Reader is a pro-hero tasked with working with her worst nightmare; Bakugou Katsuki. The two of them have never seen eye to eye, making it impossible to get anything accomplished. But when Bakugou jumps at her from across the table, things take an unexpected turn.

A/N: had an idea and ran with it! I’m a total sucker for enemies to lovers so I had to indulge! While this can be read as a one shot, I also wouldn’t be opposed to making it a series? Lemme know what you guys think! This is my first time writing anything like this, so please be kind.

“God, you’re insufferable, you know that?” You rolled your eyes, falling back into your chair with an exasperated huff. There were a few things that you didn’t enjoy about being a Pro hero, like the long hours and the lack of privacy, but this absolutely took the cake.

Bakugou Katsuki, or Dynamight as he was known to the public, sat in front of you clad in simple business attire with the nastiest scowl plastered on his dumb face. The two of your agencies had found themselves working together due to an influx in connected crime, and it had been the absolute worst thing you had ever experienced. The two of you had never seen eye to eye in the best of times, constantly teasing and bickering whenever you were in each other's presence, but having to work side by side with the explosive hero was like pulling teeth without any numbing agent. The two of you just didn’t mesh well together, constantly fighting for dominance of the situation, and it made for a very tense working environment for everyone involved. You were currently in the middle of coming up with an infiltration plan for a big villain hide-out, and Bakugou kept fighting you at every turn. He shot down every single one of your ideas, but had not yet made one himself. He was infuriating, and you wanted nothing more than to just walk out of the conference room and never speak to him again. You knew that was impossible though. People's lives were at stake and you weren’t selfish enough to let your discomfort affect your hero work.

Bakugou clicked his tongue at you, only adding to your frustration.

“You’re one to fucking talk!” He snarled in your direction, his hands balled into fists on top of the white marble table placed between you two.

“You haven’t come up with one usuable fucking plan all day!” His words were like venom, corroding your patience with every syllable. He had to be joking.

“Do you really have your head shoved so far up your own ass?” You started, the prominent look of detest written on your features.

“If my ideas are such shit, i'd like to see you come up with a better one! Or is that outside your levels of expertise? Does that brain of yours even have a rational mode or is it all just explosions and violence.” You could see his eyebrow twitching in anger at your words, and for some reason that excited you beyond belief. You loved getting under his skin, giving him a taste of his own medicine. It was cathartic in a way, watching him squirm.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” He spat viciously from across the table, his fists banging on the surface like an overgrown toddler throwing a tantrum. This time it was you clicking your tongue.

“I rest my case. I should have known working with you was going to be nothing but hell. Some pro hero you are, can’t even make a simple infiltration plan without throwing a fit.” Bakugou growled loudly, and you couldn’t help but akin his behavior to that of a feral animal.

“Will you shut the fuck up!” He seethed, but you were unfazed. You simply leaned back in your seat with an excited grin, crossing your arms over your chest as you did so. You weren't sure why arguing with the explosive man gave you such a rush of adrenaline, but you needed more. It was as if his words of resentment were a highly addictive drug, and you were itching for your next fix.

“Aww what's wrong, can’t handle a little bit of criticism?” Your confidence rang through the air like gun fire, piercing and tearing at Bakugou's skin. He was heated, you could tell by the way his pale skin flushed and how the faint smell of caramel assaulted your senses as he let off a few pops of his quirk in his fists. If you hadn’t known the man in front of you, perhaps you would have been intimidated by his crude actions, but you knew Bakugou would never lay a hand on you. No matter how heated your arguments got.

This certainly wasn’t the first time you had argued like this, it happened to be a recurring theme for the both of you whenever you were in the same room, but today something felt different. The tension laid heavy between you two, tangible, but it was laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint; A warmth pooling in your stomach.

“I said shut the hell up!” He screamed, standing up from his chair in a huff. You had pushed him too far, letting your teasing nature get the better of you as it had been known to do. Yet, instead of dropping it, moving on with your work, you persisted. You poked the bear once more, but this time in a way that surprised even you. You locked eyes with his piercing crimson ones, rising from your chair with formidable authority. Your chin tilting up ever so slightly as you spoke, letting the warmth in your stomach take over.

“Why don’t you come over here and make me, Dynamight”

Bakugou froze, and you couldn’t help but smirk victoriously. You knew the teasing tone would be enough to fluster him, to shut him down and win the argument so you could get back to working in silence. What you weren’t expecting was the way his breath caught in his throat, or the fervent blush that crept up his neck and consumed his features. And you certainly were not expecting the way your face reciprocated immediately upon sight. The palpable tension consuming the two of you, and the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. It was not the feeling of complete and utter disdain that always lingered there, but instead something far worse. The warmth that had been bubbling in your lower abdomen was now yelling at you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that feeling had always been there, simply lurking under the guise of hatred. Your eyes took in his features with a new glazed expression, subconsciously nibbling at your lower lip as you did so. The way you could see his heart hammer in his chest made you question if he was feeling the same sensation you currently were.

Your mind didn’t have much time to process that thought however, because within an instant Bakugou was throwing himself at you from across the table. His mouth on yours in seconds and his hands gripped at the back of your head to hold you tightly into the kiss, as if trying to relish in a fleeting moment. It was like a shock wave of intensity took over you, throwing all caution to the wind, and you found yourself kissing back with unexpected heat before you even had time to think. He slammed your smaller frame against the cold concrete of the office wall and you couldn't control the small yelp that slipped into his mouth. He had no idea why he was doing this. Why did your words have such an impact on him? Whatever had possessed him in the moment seemed to have taken hold of you as well. He wasn’t expecting you to kiss back with such fervor, in fact, he was fully convinced he was going to earn himself a solid punch to the mouth. But that wasn’t the case, and it made him question if those flirtatious and subtle sexual nuances had always littered your vocabulary, or if it had been a heat of the moment thing for you as well. One thing he knew for certain was that he had always found you enticing. The way you quipped back at him with ease, moving through his words as if you were bullet proof. His insults never penetrating your perfect complexion. And the way you would smirk at him, it was intoxicating. The way you knew just how to get under his skin. He hated it, and even though he’d hate to admit it, he loved it so much more.

His rough and calloused hands kept a firm grip on you, finally getting a chance to enjoy that perfect frame up close and personal. Your hands tangled up in his ash blonde locks, pulling at them roughly and putting space between your mouths so that your lips were just barely hovering above his lower one. Even still he could feel the delicious grin that overtook your features at the involuntary whimper that escaped his lips from the lack of contact. It wasn’t long before he was pulling against you to initiate the kiss again, and you did nothing to stop him, allowing him to dive back in and devour those sweet and supple bruised lips of yours once more. God, how he had always wanted this. He let his pelvis grind into yours, his hand finding its home on your hip to pull you in closer, forcing a moan to creep its way out of your throat. He wasn’t sure what had come over him; repression, pent up sexual tension, pure feral instinct, but he just couldn’t control himself. Especially not when such a lewd and sweet sounding moan cascaded from your lips like that. He had to have you now.

The faint noise of the lock clicking behind him rang in his ears like one of his explosions, and he found his head whipping in this direction of the noise as if expecting to see someone witnessing something they weren’t supposed to. Instead he saw the faint golden glow of your quirk, and upon rounding his eyes back to you, saw everything that he needed to know written on your features. You had locked it over his shoulders using your psychokinetic quirk. He chuckled darkly above your lips, before swooping back in hungrily, taking your actions as a nonverbal cue to continue. You couldn’t get enough of his taste. The sickly-sweet sensation taking over your senses, and by the way he kissed you, you could only guess you were just as intoxicating to him. Your hips moved on their own accord, desperate to feel his hard cock rubbing against you through the slack of his pants, but you could feel the resistance from the blondes firm grip on your hips. You needed more of him, wanted to get rid of this disgusting heat inside of you. You knew he noticed how much you ached for him too, you could sense it in the way his ego grew in his chest with every movement. He was always so perceptive, and you hated that about him. How dare he be able to control you like this. Have this domineering hold around you that you most certainly did not allow in your daily life. You never took his shit. Never put up with his bitching. Yet here you were, horny and writhing in his grasp, desperate for his twitching cock to fill you up.

“What’s the matter, princess?” His husky voice cut through the room. The teasing nickname you detested grating at your senses and finding a new feeling bubbling up deep inside your abdomen. God, you fucking hated him.

“Don’t have anything else to fucking say?” He ground his hips against yours again, eliciting the same noise of wanting to come crashing around the two of you. You tried your best to suppress it this time, not wanting to give him the sheer satisfaction of knowing just how much he had you under his spell right now, but the noise forced its way out as a high pitched whimper. You felt the way his cock twitched against your heat, only adding to your sheer desire. Your head fell back against the wall as you bit harshly at your lip. How could you be so weak for this man that not even ten minutes ago you absolutely despised with everything in your being. He took that as an answer.

“Did I finally find a fucking way to shut you up, dumbass?” He whispered into your ear, the soft wetness overtaking your senses and filling you with pure adrenaline. His hand gripped at the hair on the back of your head like you had done to his only moments before, exposing your neck so that he could trail rough kisses down to your collarbone. Biting and nipping at the soft skin.

“If you want my cock so bad, beg for it. “ It was like a light switch had gone off in your brain at that very moment. You couldn’t let him win, Let him talk to you like this. No matter how much it made your juices pool in your panties like some kind of whore in heat, you couldn’t let him embarrass you like this.

“In your dreams, you fucking pervert.” you spat viciously, a salacious smile biting at your features. Bakugou's head rounded to meet your eyes, an interested smirk over taking his features.

“Huh? What did you say to me?” The venom was tangible, but it did nothing to deter you from spitting back again. This time the smirk on your lips growing into a confident one, even through your ragged pants of need.

“I said...in your fucking dreams. “ putting emphasis on each word He growled into your skin, vibrating your body with his raw and feral rage.

“You fuckin’ brat.”

You knew you had just signed your death warrant but you didn’t care, in fact, it only aroused you more. You needed to feel him inside of you. You needed the release. It was as if the room was spinning and the only thing that was keeping you grounded was the aching between your legs. The desperate need to feel something. You felt his grip grow tighter on you and before you knew it your face was pressed up against the cold wall in an instant. Bakugou's hand laid on the back of your head, gripping at your hair and pushing your face against the concrete, the other tightly locked on your hip, keeping your soaking cunt up against the hard bulge in his pants. You felt your body buck against it subconsciously, sending another shockwave of pleasure pulsing through your body, and his.

“You’re gonna pay for that.” He hissed into your ear. The hand that laid in your hair coiled itself around your neck, squeezing ever so slightly as he brought your head closer to his. You let out a slight gasp, but still a smirk laid ever present on your face.

“Good.”

His free hand made quick work of your soaking panties, pushing them to the side under the hem of your pencil skirt. One of his thick digits slipping against your wet folds before situating itself inside without much warning. Even with just his finger you felt so full. The warmth from his hand radiating inside of you and only aiding in your pleasure. Bakugou couldn’t help the noises that escaped his mouth as he worked your pussy with his fingers. The way your walls clamped around them and left them completely soaked only made his need for you grow.

“God, youre so fucking wet for me.” His breathing was erratic, greedy. He had been overcome with lust that he was barely registering what he was saying. Normally situations like this would absolutely fluster Bakugou, or just straight up never happen. Bakugou was always so focused on his hero work that hookups were few and far between, and certainly never quite this passionate. A quick fuck with no return call and that was it. There was just something about you that made his head spin. You were always a challenge, never backing down no matter how brutal his berating and instead firing back at him with such confidence that it caught him off guard more often than not. Sure, it was so infuriating, but he had a thing for strong women. So everytime you spit back with that ungodly sexy smirk of yours, the fire in Bakugou only grew. He never thought he’d see you like this though, never imagining that he would be able to make that pretty little mouth of yours moan out for him, but he had certainly spent countless nights alone with his hand gripped around himself at the very thought. He quickly added another finger as he pounded them into you, causing you to gasp out in pleasure.

“ Yeah, you like that? You little slut.” You shut your eyes tightly, feeling the embarrassment overtake you as your head nodded against his hand like the greedy slut you were. Normally you would never accept words like that to come out of a man's mouth toward you, but there was just something about the way Bakugou said them that had you reeling with anticipation.

He curled his fingers inside of you, toying with your sensitive spot ever so slightly. Did you really think a simple nod was going to satiate his need for praise? He was going to tease you until he got what he wanted.

“What was that?” He smirked against the skin of your neck, nibbling roughly at the sensitive skin. You felt your body jerk against him, sending his fingers deeper into you. You bit your lip hard to suppress the moan that overtook you.

“Just fuck me already, Katsuki! ” you whimpered, his first name feeling foreign in your mouth. You were growing impatient, and even though your words came out as a command, you knew deep down it was desperation. The embarrassment rampantly flooded through your body, turning you a deep shade of pink, but you pushed through it. You couldn’t keep letting him play with you like you were some toy, you had to take what you wanted any way you could. You needed to cum, and you certainly weren’t going to do it on his fingers, no matter how good they felt. You needed the real thing.

“I can’t take it anymore, just fuck me!” You reluctantly begged, trying to look anywhere but at the man behind you. You could feel the shock rush through Bakugou's body at your words, clearly taken aback for a second at your bluntness and hearing his name spill from your lips like that. A wave of determination flooded through his system. He was going to make you scream his name so everyone in the office could hear it, even from the confines of the soundproof meeting room. He quickly let go of you to fiddle with his belt buckle, but you didn’t dare move to look at him. Instead you found solace in rubbing your thighs together. The friction keeping you high, keeping you blind to what was really happening. To the fact that you had just begged Bakugou Katsuki, the biggest piece of shit you have ever met, to fuck you.

You felt the tip of his cock trace your sweet hole for a second, and you braced yourself for agony. You thought he was going to relentlessly tease you, break you, find some way to have you squirming in his grasp and begging again, but instead the feeling of him bottoming out in you quickly overtook all of your senses. He was surprised he had even lasted this long in the foreplay if he was honest. He needed you, needed to feel the way you felt around him. He had fantasized about this for years, what it would feel like to finally have you in such a compromising position, but he was in no way ready for the sheer bliss your walls brought him. You had him reeling. He grunted aggressively against your skin, not moving inside of you as if to take in this sensation. Who knew when it would happen again, or If it would happen again.

“Fuckkk” he whined, and somehow his words alone had you aching for more. If you thought his finger had you feeling full, it was no match for the size of his cock. You couldn’t help but rock back onto him, rotating your hips in a way that had the both of you moaning.

“Katsuki” His name dripped from your lips again like the words sweetest song. There was something about the way you said his first name that had him teetering on the edge. It was so sweet, like honey trickling down the curves of your lips, begging to be savoured, and like hell he was going to deny himself that sweetness. Even if he knew he would probably never get the chance to taste it again. He wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to pound you into oblivion. He pulled back for a second, his dick sliding out of your entrance and leaving you with a longing and empty feeling after being so full only a second ago. Your eyes widened, about to whimper out in distress at the loss, until the fullness came back to you forcefully. The roughness of his thrust sending your body bumping into the wall in front of you and causing a loud moan to escape your lips. Your hand quickly shot up to your mouth, covering it quickly in the hopes that no one had heard you. You felt Bakugou snicker in your ear, pulling your hand roughly away from its place over your mouth, his hot breath panting heavily onto your skin.

“Let them hear you. Let them hear so they know who you belong to.” He spat out in between thrusts, head clearly spinning from the pure ecstasy you brought him.

“You wish.” you hissed, sending your ass into him to meet his thrusts. Bakugou grit his teeth in pleasure, cursing out under his breath. You were definitely right about that. You were the one person Bakugou knew he would never be able to truly control, but honestly, he didn’t want to. You were a force to be reckoned with, and an absolute powerhouse of a Pro Hero, and he admired you. Just as you did him, in your own little way.

Bakugou brought his open palm down onto your exposed ass with a grin, the pain of his warm hand mixing with the pure ecstasy of his cock and eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, spinning from the sensation. Bakugou found himself groaning with every thrust, unable to force them down. You just felt too good, too addicting, and he needed more; needed to cum. His hand gripped at the back of your hair, pulling your head to the side so that his face was flush up against yours, his mouth inches from your ear. The sound of his erratic breathing and raw grunts of pleasure filled your senses immediately, making the warmth in your stomach bubble with excitement. You weren’t going to last much longer like this.

“Fuck” Your voice came out in a choked whimper, laced with blatant wanton lust.

“Like that, don’t stop.” You commanded, and Bakugou groaned in response. The grip on your hair tightened ever so slightly and you felt his teeth snarl against your ear, nipping at the exposed skin. He could tell you were close by the way your walls clamped around him, making it almost impossible to hold out any longer.

“Yeah” He panted in agreement, his thrusts becoming more unpredictable as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. It didn’t take much before you completely came undone around Bakugou. It was as if your body was floating weightlessly in space, a beautiful expanse of stars and colors blurring your vision, before gravity was quickly pulling you back down to earth abruptly, leaving your legs trembling from the impact.

Your hands subconsciously gripped Bakugou's, savoring in his warmth as you rode out your high around his thrusts, your head spinning with pure ecstasy and adrenaline. Bakugou buried his face into the crook of your neck, as if to hide the flush that had spread across his face from nonexistent eyes. Watching your body tense and shake around him had to be the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen in his life, and that was exactly what sent him over the edge.

“F-Fuck” His voice quivered against your skin and you felt his grip grow tighter on your hips, pulling you back into his pelvis to burry himself deeper within you. If you weren’t currently trembling from your own climax, perhaps you would’ve stopped Bakugou from coating your insides, but in the moment you didn’t seem to care. You felt your walls clamp down around him once more, desperately taking everything in without any fear of the consequences it might hold. Bakugou didn’t pull away from you, instead leaving his body flushed up against yours as the two of you attempted to regain your composure.

The room was silent, aside from the panting that still hung close to your ear. The primal lust that had just engulfed the two of you was quickly replaced with confusion, and the room was suddenly too silent. Bakugou pulled away from you at last, and his warmth that had enveloped you just two seconds ago now completely dissipated. You weren’t sure why, but you missed it immediately. It just felt so right, brought you so much comfort, and that very thought alone scared you. You quickly pulled yourself off the wall and rounded to look at the blonde man behind you as he fixed himself up. His face seemed to mimic yours, and you weren’t sure whether or not that was a good or a bad thing, but for the moment it brought you solace. You let out a shaky sigh before straightening the hem of your skirt against your reddened thighs. You could feel his eyes on you, like lasers burning your skin. You quirked an eyebrow up at him, trying your best to muster a smirk while your fingers worked tirelessly at untangling your hair that Bakugou had made a mess of.

Bakugou felt his voice rise in his throat as his eyes finally met with yours once more, he had so many questions; what was that all about? What does this mean for us? Can I take you out for dinner? but all of those questions died in his throat before they made it to his lips. The shake of your head deterring him from letting them out. You didn’t want him to say something he was going to regret, something stupid you say after the high of an orgasm. You weren’t sure what exactly that would’ve been, but you liked it better this way.

“Don’t, your stupid voice is what got us into this mess in the first place.” You tried your best to keep your voice even, calm, as if none of this had shaken you to your core. As if he wasn’t still lingering inside of you. As if you felt absolutely nothing from that encounter. Just another meaningless hook up, that was all. Or at least that was what you tried to tell yourself. You watched as Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, as they did whenever you spoke, but this time it felt off. Laced with something different. It would take you a while to pinpoint that exact feeling, but it would come to you nonetheless. When you were alone in your bed late at night, thinking about the way his eyes glistened, and his body tried to stay steady. Hurt.

You moved towards the tall blonde with a false sense of confidence, though to the unsuspecting eye you never faltered. Your delicate hand moving up to the tall blondes cheek and patting it roughly. The curves of your lips forming into that smirk that Bakugou loved detested so much.

“Leave the planning to me, I don’t really need your help anyway.” Your eyes locked with his for a moment, before you felt the need to break away. To slam the cover shut on those feelings that threatened to spill over the top of Pandora’s box. You sauntered past his form nonchalantly, your hips moving in a hypnotizing form that had Bakugou unable to peel his eyes away.

“Just remember...” You started, turning your head to look at him from over your shoulder.

“Meetings in the conference room are confidential.” And with a wink, you quickly turned the handle of the door and made your exit, needing to get away as quickly as possibly so that you could breathe once again. Bakugou still stood at the center of the room, confused and finally at a loss for words. He had no idea how any of that had just happened, or why he felt a heavy pang in his chest as he watched you leave the room seemingly unfazed. But there was one thing he knew for certain, one thing he was determined to do now more than ever; he was going to make you his.

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou imagines #bakugou x reader #mha imagines #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x oc #katsuki bakugou #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction

223 notes · View notes

douxie-casperan · 3 years

Text

Rise of the Titans and the assassination Hisirdoux Casperan’s character development

I’ve been ranting so much since Wednesday morning that I finally condensed by thoughts of WHY this one subject keeps setting me off namely the utterly diabolical way they handled Douxie and Archie’s relationship in Rise of the Titans and how it wasn’t just enough to hit him with the nerf bat.

Please note I’m at the point where I literally cannot tell the difference between Aaron headcanons, Teny headcanons and my own they are all mixed together in the blender that does funky things. I also apologise for typo/weird wording it’s half 1 in the morning and I’d rather sleep than edit.

If asked to sum up Hisirdoux Casperan there are certainly several things that come to mind:

Sees the value in people as a whole and will find do anything if there is a chance of help someone out

Prefers tactics that disable/banish rather than kill an enemy yet willing and able to pull the trigger if circumstances become forced

While not academically inclined he is very capable of thinking on his feet and outside the box calling back to his time on the streets where a split-second decision making is the difference between being caught and not

Terrible at planning he’ll be in there figuring it out as he goes along which is what makes the previous point so vital to literally how he goes through life

A natural charmer that would let him talk his way out of trouble 9/10 providing a perfect cover for his distrustful nature and reluctance to be touched by random people

Very down to earth, humble and never one to brag unless outright sassing someone

Will bang out some hot tunes at the drop of a hat, his love of music has never wavered once since he caught the bug despite instrument hopping ironically becoming a jack of all trades much like his magic style

The earliest memories he can recall are him as a young boy lost in the woods where he was for an unknown amount of time before his soon to be familiar finds him amongst the roots covered in dirt and drying tears, there is nothing before that. Unbeknownst to him is the colour of his magic matches the blue of a lost mother’s eyes and the song that haunts his nightmares as much as fire could well be hers though there is no way to be sure. From that moment on Archibald, shortened to Archie, would become his entire world and their friendship only becoming closer during the years they prowled Camelot together trying to keep themselves in one piece until the fateful day Douxie tricks the wrong person leading him straight into the path of the famous wizard Merlin Ambrosius.

It's no real secret that Merlin is a very closed off person who keeps his emotions as well guarded as his secrets, prefers the style of negative reinforcement over positive encouragement and is a very strict perfectionist in his. At this point in his life he can be very easily described as a disaster that is genuinely doing his best with every little mistake held of his head and his future self when brought back to that time period is belittled by Lancelot (Errand boy) and Arthur (Boy) too meaning it’s hardly a wonder his confidence was very fragile revelling in the times where he could do things without being told off for it. With Morgana largely ignoring him too (Though personally I like to think as he got older she’d occasionally take an interest until the blistering arguments with their master started to talk over daily life) a certain disguised dragon would have remained a lifeline and give that physical affection he craved much like being told he’d done well never seemed able to earn.

With Killahead he’d lose that home and family he made leaving just the two of them behind struggling to figure out their place in the world that had abandoned them.

There wouldn’t have been the words for it back then but the way he had been treated prior was outright abusive instilling very bad habits into Douxie yet by irony he was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and help those in trouble without thinking earning a reputation as the Shepard of Fire. He refused to become like him seeking to be better, perhaps not as a wizard (Even though he was learning new charms and spells along the way) but certainly as a person. Despite everything he suffers through or witnesses in the intervening years, the loss of friends and kindling of far newer ones he never loses his good heart

That said is it any wonder that after rightfully sassing Merlin for resurfacing, ignoring his existence despite being in the same town and only visiting him to run a finding errand that all the confidence he’d managed to build completely from scratch after Camelot wavered causing him to fall back solely into trying impressing his old Master who was acting like his humble apprentice must have coasted the past few centuries who himself fell back into old habits of belittling? It’s only when Merlin started to truly listen and acknowledge that this was not the same Moppet he once knew after Excalibur was fixed that their relationship finally started to become more like equals. After the defeat of Janus the changeling that broke into the castle he touched Douxie’s shoulder with a genuine smile and for a second he simply didn’t know what to do because the old man never did this before his brain kicked into gear and realised he’d finally earned that one thing he’d been so desperate for his entire life: That in Merlin’s eyes he could be more than a failure who only caused problems for the closest thing to a father figure he’d ever had, never solved them.

A staff will be earned, history would be set back on trap by banishing Morgana tag teaming with Archie because they know one another inside and out, as promised he’d get the kids back to the present but soon after things would go badly wrong. They’d lose Jim and because of his very nature he’d make a gamble to try and get him back because that life is worth trying for just for in a moment of surprising selflessness Merlin would be sacrificed to save him. The only constant in his life apart from Archie would apologise, openly express pride and how the greatest thing he’d ever done was saving this orphan, call him son for the first and final time before turning into ash in his arms. There would be no time to grieve for things will barrel into the crescendo of Douxie sacrificing his own life to buy everyone time to escape because if they did that everything he’d ever done would be worth it with one last whispered goodbye.

(Zoe sees him fall, so does Archie – His heart would break if he was conscious just like theirs does when his body crumples into the ground)

On the very fringes of the Light Realm he is gifted one more conversation with Merlin in a truly heart-breaking sequence (THANKS TENY) where they can just talk without any fear of consequence or politics and just be completely honest. Douxie is allowed to stand equal to Merlin, to have the hug he’d needed since he was a child and be allowed to simply let go of every pretense and cry his heart out because this can never happen again. He’s allowed to say goodbye to both his master and Morgana who had both shaped so very much of his life but like the painting he’d always remained firmly in the long shadows of until that moment.

When Hisirdoux Casperan finally leaves Wizards if we just accidently deliberately put the shawarma back in along with checking in with Zoe before departure, it is with having learned to live during his wandering years but this is the point of true freedom because he can finally escape into his own light with Archie by his side to keep Nari out of the hands of those that would see the world harmed. It won’t be easy but it feels possible somehow even with the knowledge everything is simply running on borrowed time.

Then Rise of the Titans happens.

At first everything is genuinely fine! No more running, they engineer a solution shut the Order’s magic down to make them a lot less dangerous and potentially at least incapacitate them until they can come up with a longer-term solution but all the best laid plans and all that. Douxie’s quick thinking stops the train from crushing any of the people below and it’s a very him style move to switch places with Nari to stall for time because for some reason the plot disabled Claire from portaling her or any of the threatened people/heroes to safety. He openly sasses the Order despite knowing the consequences will be bad for him because once again he’s managed to trick them, buy time that at the other end isn’t even slightly utilised until he’s forced back into his own body in excruciating pain. Archie immediately mobs him with comfort just as he has done every single time the wizard is distressed or collapsed with exhaustion without thinking because that is what their bond is like, incredibly close and far more than the Soul Bond mark that connects them together. They’re very alike in that regard, you have to earn the right to touch while equally knowing exactly what form the other needs the most in that precise moment in a way very few others could.

Bar the moment of figuring out that an illusion is in place to hide where the Order is opening the Genesis Seals and the brief insistence on reconnecting with Nari somehow Douxie manages to forget everything that makes him who he is after this point choosing to stand in the background being very no thoughts head empty or can only use the most basic spells of his youthful days not the seasoned master wizard he should be. Nomura is treated like an innocent slip rather than an outright death he did absolutely nothing to prevent (Not to mention the stupid daytime thing) nor seems to care particularly about afterwards yet with Nari’s he’s allowed to openly grieve in a gorgeously animated visual showing how he’d failed to keep her safe despite everything. He did nothing to help here either mind despite allowing himself to be tortured in the same piece of media to keep her safe, just watched another loss happen right in front of his eyes in his conga long line of them.

Then there’s Archie, oh god then there was Archie.

The dragon who even here he’d been shown to have an incredibly close bond with him decides you know what sod that tell him goodbye I’m going to make a joke about having a kingdom now dad and me are trapped in here forever. Douxie on his part looked sad for all of three seconds saying that he hoped he’s happy like it's a pet that wandered out into the world one day and never came back instead of a lifelong companion that has been there for as long as he can remember. He was now completely alone in the world since Zoe was also written out entirely and because every bit of his background had been forgotten about it somehow meant nothing. This wasn’t “I know you miss him, I know you need to grieve but you are running out of time” moment like things had been with Charlie, this was “cool shapeshifting dragon cat is now stuck in a plot hole that’s a shame” with zero pay off or any of the genuine reaction that should have been there or hell even trying to Ohana him back that very second because it never should have happened in the first place. Then even this wasn’t enough somehow, they managed to de-power Douxie even further into uselessness bar the (Admittedly nifty!) sticky feet stunt, the one who fought Skrael and Bellroc to a stalemate was shunted aside with barely a thought and his head would somehow get even emptier.

The one person who knew the danger of time magic the most stood by and said nothing.

The one person who would suffer the most by a reset because the lynchpin to his issues would be asleep if you got it wrong and should have drilled it into Jim’s head the best time to aim for stood by and said nothing.

The one person who had just suffered the loss of his familiar, best friend and only family along with the almost sister like Nari stood by and said nothing.

Then to add further insult to injury the caption when Douxie and Archie is shown says Some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation because every drop of his character growth, his ability to finally start addressing his trauma instilled back in the 12th century, the staff he longed for was instead openly mocked by going “Aww he got his cat friend back how nice!” Everything he’d rightfully earned and had now would be unable to progress until certain criteria are met because it hinges entirely on the Trollhunter going to Merlin’s tomb and there’s only so much your support network of two (One if she’s written out) can do, the root of the majority of his issues all stem from one man.

And this folks is why I’ve been going on multiple rants about Douxie in particular, everyone was hit with the out of character bat to some degree in this film but when they came for him they didn’t just stop after they took his legs out because they wanted him to suffer from something he’s never had any control over to begin with all over again. Abuse survivors deserve better, these characters deserve better and we as viewers deserve far far better writing than we were forced to endure.

#Ooc - Behind the curtains #Rise of the Titans #Rise of the Titans spoilers #RotT Spoilers #RoT spoilers #Wizards #Tales of Arcadia #ToAWizards #Hisirdoux Casperan #Douxie Casperan

191 notes · View notes

heartshyuck · 4 years

Text

Pairing : Haechan x reader

Genre: angst, fluff, one sided love, best friends to lovers, college au

Synopsis: Haechan envies the person that doesn’t love you because you don’t love him. He envies the people that can confess their love to you because he can’t. So he stands at the borderline of friendship,not daring to cross.

Word count : 4.4k

Warnings : blasphemy, making out, swearing and drinking.

To him you’re beautiful. In the ways you look at him, constellations in your eyes as if you held the universe within your dark orbs. Haechan is sure God made them for the stars to envy. You’re beautiful in the way you carry yourself, confidence and elegance in each striking step you take. You walked into his heart and claimed it as yours, with your burning touches that branded him and sent sparks into his blood. It was in that moment Haechan turned from God and named you as his own. He worshipped the sweet melody of your voice, your words were his teachings and your name a mantra to his mind. He basked in your dizzying scent of vanilla, blood orange, vibrant lilies and jasmine. He was sure it was what heaven smelt like. Your lips a shrine and his own as pilgrims and the blasphemous act of tainting the dynasty that you are, was all too tempting but what Haechan was unaware of was that you were far from a god. You were the devil. The embodiment of temptation and a caged heart, you were a nightmare dressed as a daydream. When he first locked his lips with yours, passion overflowing with the eagerness of lust was when you first accepted him as a friend. When your lips locked with his, you kissed him painfully slow, each movement burning , agonising yet addictive. You smelt sweet yet the blood, you drew from when you bit down on his bottom lip demanding for entrance, left a lingering salt to each synchronised movement. The sinful act of your tongue in Haechan’s mouth, sucking his soul out of him and leaving him breathless while every nerve ending lit on fire. The messy clashing of teeth as you abruptly changed pace always leaving you in control and always leaving Haechan on edge, never knowing what to expect is when Haechan fell in love and submit to you. One kiss was all it took and one kiss was all he got. Haechan was left to suffer and to pay for his sinful blasphemy he was left at the borderline between friends and lovers. Months went by since the night infused with alcohol and your forbidden touches went by but it’s branded in Haechan’s memory. He remembers every placement of your hand, every gaze you gave him and every sweet word that fell past you plush cherry lips. Yet he doesn’t dare to mention it, scared the friendship he’s built with you would collapse. Haechan’s learnt a lot about you over these months and one of them being you’re unable to commit. You hate being tied down, you want to draw out of the lines, you wanna smash down walls and burn bridges but you love drawing your own lines and tying your own strings. You pushed Haechan’s boundaries but wouldn’t hesitate to cut him off as soon as he crossed one of yours, yet he worshipped you and grew a relationship around eggshells. He knew it was unhealthy, it was toxic, yet the venom that seeped into his heart poisoning him slowly, was addictive and it once again showed how his heart belong to you. It was yours to use and abuse, you broke him into a million pieces and each sharp one puncturing Haechan but it was okay because the pain he felt was caused by you, he wanted to feel anything as long as you were the cause of it. So Haechan didn’t push past your borderline and he stayed as a friend, as long as it meant he could see you everyday, buy you coffee every morning and kiss your forehead every time he saw you, just to set himself ablaze, for it was that feeling that kept him alive. Haechan has seen many attempt to cross the line but all perish and burn out into ashes. It used to effect him at first, a haze of green jealously would engulf him each time he’d see a new man wearing you as if you were a prize, with your arms interlinked. The green would turn into red, as anger took over at how they would use you but you remained unbothered and a cool blue of relief caused all the blood reds and sea greens to subside as he saw you break heart after heart. Relief that your heart wasn’t the one breaking and as much as he hated the cage around you heart, for it was those four walls that put him in the friend zone, he thanked it every time a new man crossed the line. The difference between these men and Haechan was simple, they didn’t have any foundation to their relationship with you other than sex and that could only last for so long. After you got bored, you moved on but with Haechan there was no sex to move on from, the foundation built out of curiosity of each others well beings, likes, dislikes and every little detail soon turning into a core of fondness and care. Haechan was the only male who didn’t seem to have sex with you as his end goal, you could see it in his eyes a burning sensation but one more scarlet that lust. It was love, over the months Haechan has fallen in love with you. The way you call his name with a light and airy tone that showed your excitement off. It made every hair on Haechan’s body stand proudly at how you were happy to see him, it sent floods of dusty pink to his cheek and hazes of muted gold and pastel purples swirl around him as he feels his heart stop. He loved the way you sent him a text every morning and every night wishing him a “good day” and how you hope he sleeps well, which only in return ruined his sleep as his mind only wandered to you, eyes glued to the screen scanning over and over again to the text that was accompanied by pink hearts. The way you would say “sorry” to every little thing made every cell in Haechan’s body buzz with bliss at your cuteness. The way you casually told him that you loved him, that you cherish him more than anything and although the high of hearing these words seeped in and clogged Haechan’s brain from any form of functioning, a deep unsettling feeling would sit at the bottom of his gut as he remembers the difference in your feelings towards each other. Whilst Haechan’s love for you was an undying blue flame, in its purest form a love burning so deeply, his love felt cool and soothing. You burnt and scorched him alive, imprinting your name over the gold and silk of his skin and he would cool you down with ice running into your veins extinguishing the burning lust and replacing it with the feeling of being loved. It scares you, how the fire within you could be so easily put out just by the mere thought of him. The way he walked up to you in all his glory, sun kissing his gorgeous honey skin causing streaks of gold to glow over his sharp and distinctive features, illuminating him and causing a heavenly glimmer. So you pushed Haechan away, stealing a kiss from him and letting him suffer as he watched you kiss others breathless but none ever compared to him. Haechan had your heart leaping uncontrollably out of your chest, hitting against your ribs and begging for it to be released so it could run to him. Yet here, you didn’t have that same longing in your heart instead you felt the twisted, painful feeling of your heart aching. As if someone plunged their hand into your chest and squeezed it, as if it was being stabbed repeatedly again and again and agian. Maybe it was the alcohol but the fear of losing your fire had vanished, yep definitely liquid courage. You held onto anothers neck, swayed you hips against their’s but your eyes never left Haechan. Not as he held her close to him, one hand gently placed on the small of her back whilst the other cupped her cheek holding it in place as he kissed her slowly. It was too slow for you, every movement played in slow motion. The way his thumb gently caressed the top of her cheekbone, how his eyes fluttered shut as their lips meet and how his tongue slowly danced with hers. You sure she’s fallen in love just buy the way her knees are slightly bent, legs are soon to give in as the kiss weakens her, the way she’s desperate for more as she clings on to him, knuckles white. But you can tell he isn’t in love with her, though he treats her like fine glass too scared to touch incase it could break, the kiss lacks passion, the same passion he gave you all those months ago. It’s not her fault, your sure she’s a great person but he’s just using her, using her to get to you. He breaks away from the kiss, chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath and immediately, as if his eyes were trained to do so, they land on yours. The fact you’re even looking his way is a win for Haechan but he doesn’t miss the slight scrawl on your face that you then attempt to cover with a smile. He’s used to those fake smiles but he’s seen plenty of real ones to be able to differentiate them, this smile doesn’t go all the way up to your eyes like they usually do, this smile doesn’t show off all your teeth, this smile looks too nice to be genuine. Haechan knows he shouldn’t be happy to see that smile but he can’t help it, he can’t help but get his hopes up and convince himself that you do really like him. He knows he shouldn’t be playing with others feelings just to get a reaction out of you but everytime his eyes come up to meet yours he can see the glints of dark green jealously and suddenly all his guilt dissipates. You let go of your date for the night, excusing yourself to get water in hopes of sobering up and shaking off the envy. You turn to face Haechan who still had held his eyes on you and with one quick movement of your eyes he understood and followed you into the sea of people. The movement of their bodies as the swayed to the heavy bass washed you both up in the kitchen where other things like countless red cups also ended up, abandoned. You grabbed one from the stack of unused ones and pouring yourself another drink despite your intentions of coming to get water, you had decided that if you were going to do this you needed the slight buzz to help you. You down it in one go and it burns the back of your throat causing a slight itch. “ who’s the girl?” You ask in genuine curiosity but the itch in your throat causes a strained tone as if your saying it in slight disgust but you swear it’s the itch or so you’ve convinced yourself. Hyuck raises his brow to this as he places his right elbow on the granite counter to lean against. “Just someone is my econs class” he shrugs as if it’s not important, as if he isn’t ecstatic to hear you ask about her. You know what game he’s playing at because you play it all the time but being on the opposite side of it gets under your skin. You exhale sharply out of your nose, dig your elbow in counter, placing the weight of your head on your hand as it sits under your chin whilst you slouch over and the edge of the counter that digs into your waist. You look towards the “just someone” who’s eyes are glued to Haechan’s figure, a small smile on her face, she looks in awe of him. “She’s cute” you say as she shyly waves to you now noticing your intense gaze and you slightly move your hand in a half wave gesture and then your gaze turns to hyuck, cheek now lying in your palm still supporting your head. His eyes never left you, he didn’t even glance over at her for a second and it was painfully obvious that she really was “just someone”. “Mhm she is but cute was never really my thing” he says as he moves closer until he’s right next to you mirroring your stance, you place your head on his shoulder and he places his on yours. You can smell the strong scents of oak and hint of fresh grapefruit that is just powerful enough to be smelt , radiating off him. You inhale it in and with a sharp exhale you roll your eyes back because everything about Haechan creates a high, a sensation of pure ecstacy and you understand just how easily one could fall for Lee Donghyuck but like every high there’s a downfall. You haven’t experienced the downfall but that’s only because you won’t fully give into to his high. Blame it on the alcohol or maybe just your desires but for tonight you consider maybe just give in. “Take me home Hyuck” and with that said he slowly moves his shoulder and stands up straight, taking your hand he leads you through the vicious waves and makes his way to the door. Passing the “just someone” without even a look explaining where he was going, you could practically feel her sadden expression around her as you were pulled passed. As soon as you stepped out the house, Haechan stopped and let go of your hand. You faced him confused but met the sight of him taking off his jacket and hanging it upon your shoulders. It was a familiar sight but this time your heart froze, you couldn’t breathe and your body felt numb yet a slight tingle was set on every nerve ending as you felt an ecstacy like no other as you finally let your walls fall. Again he held your hand tight and your heart jumped, it leaped and skipped a beat. A slight blush ran upto your cheeks but you didn’t feel hot. Haechan calmed you, he soothed and cooled you and soon you found yourself gripping onto him just as tight. To Haechan this was like a dream but the burning sensation that came from the touch of your skin pressed against his was far too real, it was just like he remembered, the same feeling that has him mesmerised. The same feeling that had him denounce God, kneeling and worshipping you and only you. This feeling is what made you his religion, his god, angels, heaven and devil as well as his hell but every part of you was adored by Haechan regardless if you loved him or hurt him. It was so much more than he remembered the warmth was a roaring fire that lit his soul on fire until all that was left was the embers. It was destructive and ruthless but so addictive, it gave him an ecstacy he seeks for, it gave an even greater burning sensation to his lungs and louder thumping to his hear than any amount drug or alcohol could offer. You were a drug. You were a goddesses. You were his world and his everything. There was a comfortable silence in the car, you and Haechan both just taking in every moment whilst you held hands. It seemed like the world stopped, like the slight noise from the wind that came through the windows was a lullaby and the slow and steady rocking of the car lulled you to sleep. You found comfort and peace in Haechan and it’s the first times your hearts felt safe but you didn’t expect it to last long, this comfort but for now you’d give in because this feeling was bliss. So you close your eyes and fully submit to Hyuck. When you open your eyes again only 10 minutes had seem to pass yet it felt like a you spent a lifetime engulfed by Haechan’s eternal blue flame, as if all feelings of loneliness, of doubt, emptiness were erased. A high that only got higher with no sense of a drop. It’s the abrupt stopping of the car which pulls you out of your euphoric state but instantly it returns as Haechan’s arms wrap round your waist as he carries you out the car, you wrap your legs around his waist, hooking your head over his shoulder, you breathe in his scent and again it goes straight to your head, clouds swirl and you feel as if your floating. You place small and slow kisses on his neck trailing down to his collarbone until finally you tuck your face away into his chest. Each one of you kisses burn Haechan, branding him as yours again and again. His heart swells at how perfectly you fit into him, how you complete him. Your scent sets his lungs ablaze and makes his vision blur, there’s ache in his heart as it fills with so much love and adoration for you with no release. Haechan opens your apartment door with the key you entrusted him with no so long ago, he’d never admit it but the happiness and pride he ft when you gave it was like nothing he’d ever felt before, it meant you trusted him. It was that moment he knew that he wasn’t going to stop falling for you. He carries into the small bathroom beside your bedroom and places on top of the sink counter. He tries to pull away but you pull him back, not ready to let go just yet. You both stay like this for a few minutes until he pulls away again, holding your chin up so he can look at you properly and slowly you both close the gap between each other. The kiss is painfully slow and soft, both holding each other as if you were made of glass. The kiss was innocent and sweet, Haechan could taste the alcohol on your tongue and it only burnt his lips even more. For you, you could taste the sweeter taste of lemonade for that’s all that Haechan drank, your heart leaped as you remembered the habbit he picked up after he met you. Haechan’s driven you home many times, placed you on this exact counter before and wiped away your makeup and places you in bed. Then he leaves but tonight you need him to stay. “Stay to night” you whispered invetween kisses and Haechan nods, not taking his lips off yours. You kiss until the all the oxygen between you two is exchanged, until your lungs are burning and you feel slightly dizzy from lack of breathing. Haechan pulls away and stares in total awe at you and you can’t help but stare back at the ethereal man that stand in front of you. You also can’t help but giggle slightly, the joyful bubbles of laughter leave your throat and as if they were contagious, a similar yet deeper sound leaves Haechan. “You’re so beautiful” he says as his lips brush against your forehead. A smile is accompanied by a soft blush and it’s the most genuine smile you’ve ever given anyone. “You should see me after I take my makeup off” you say in a laugh, looking up and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “Well let’s take it off” he says as he reaches to the cupboard to grab some wipes. You close your eyes and gently haechan wipers away at the art on your face. Softly he wipes down the bridge of your forehead, around your eyes, the bridge of your nose, your cheeks and the finally your lips. He places a quick peck on your lips and with that you open your eyes with a smile across your face. Haechan had thought he had seen your genuine smile before but now he’s sure this is what a smile looks like. It’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen and it fills his heart so he kisses you again quickly just to relieve it a bit. He ties your hair back and softly rubs your face wash into your face. Again repeating the same actions. Every movement so soft and loving, you almost lose yourself in the peaceful silence and warm feeling of love. Until he spashes you with cold water, it drips down your neck and by the way your clothes sticking to you, your guessing he missed some of your face. You hear a high pitched laugh that’s so squeaky it’s almost silent, you can only assume he’s dying and rolling around on the floor by the sound of thumping that you assume is his fist on the floor. “Hyuck!” You whine out, shouting at him. You don’t open your eyes yet, afraid of bubbles still being on them. You extend your arm reaching out for the sink, waving your arm around in the air trying to find the taps. This only makes Hyuck laugh more as he sees you struggle, his heart swells as he sees you too scared to open your eyes and he thinks to himself maybe cute is his thing. He stands up off the floor, a few more giggles bubble out of his throat and he continues to help you wash the soap off your face. You smack him lightly on the chest as he slots himself invetween your legs, only make him giggle again and a smile finds it’s way on your face but that smiles wiped off when Haechan chucks the towel and hits you square in the face. “Hyuck!” You cry out again only to again cause more squeaky giggles to escape him. You slide off the counter and head into the bedroom, still sleepy, you change from the now damp clothes that were sticking to your body into your pajamas and then slip under the covers. Hyuck follows soon after, taking off his shirt and slipping on a pair of short he left here a few weeks ago. He lies next to you, pulling you into his embrace and you lay your head on his chest. You lie there in silence for a while and slowly you were drifting off to sleep, again giving in to Haechan’s love and he must have thought you were asleep but he whispers a small “I love you” as he places a kiss on top of your forehead. 4:00 stared back at you as you stared at the alarm clock, it had bearly been two hours but your sleep seemed to have left you and it’s in the silence of the night that your mind wondered to the depths of darkness. No matter how much Haechan loved you, you couldn’t love yourself. You stepped out of bed, slowly trying to shuffle out of Haechan’s grasp, trying not to wake him, and headed out to the balcony connected to your room, it was small but cosy. It lead to a view of the city’s skyline and eventually you could make out a river that flowed in the distance and the moon hung in the centre of the sky, lighting it up to reveal the millions of starts that accompanied it. You breathed in the cold night air, letting it peirce your lungs and set your skin on fire, which usually calmed you but compared to Hyuck’s touch it was nothing. You felt numb and empty again. You needed him and he needed you. He was there for you but were you there for him?, he loved you with his whole heart but could you love him with such passion and beauty ? All great highs have a downfall but the ones which show no indication are the worst. It wasn’t him that was your downfall, it was you. You could never learn to love, to trust when you didn’t love or trust yourself. Trust yourself to be good enough for him, him who was the world, the universe and everything. He gave love in it’s purest form and you couldn’t give him anything as equally beautiful back. No matter how much he insisted you were enough, you couldn’t believe him because it wasn’t enough for you. The silent sobs that were silenced by the harsh pressing of your hand upon your mouth were soon silenced by your face buried into his chest. He was there for you, again and again but all you’ve done was push him away. You don’t deserve him, he deserves better. Someone who can repay his love and give more, someone who is confident in themselves to be able to be there for him, someone who can scream they love him. He derves someone that wasn’t you. You who was broken and numb, you who only knew disastrous love, love that left, love that was empty, love that hurt, love that wasn’t love. “I don’t want to break your heart” you cried into his chest, gripping on his sleeve as he rubbed your back attempting to sooth you and calm your breathing yet all it did was make you cry more. For he was so perfect, so loving and you couldn’t return it. “Then don’t” he simply replied, placing his chin above your head, pulling you impossibly closer and you could feel his breathing begin to unsteady and fear rised and you could feel it in the back of your throat. “But I have to” you chocked out as your eyes and throat stung, as your heart clenched and your lung felt like they’d give way. As your knees felt weak and your head began to spin, as you felt empty and broken. “Why” his voice broke and you knew he was crying too, your heart sank and even more of the feelings of not be enough sat at the front of your mind as his once soft and happy tone had been replaced with the sound of soft cries. You made him cry, you made his heart break and you’ll do it again. You don’t trust yourself with someone as precious as Haechan, something as precious as his heart because here you are breaking it because “So mine doesn’t” So yours doesn’t.

160 notes · View notes

eastertag · 3 years

Text

Phoenix

@janetm74 gift for @katblu42

the prompts: 1) Lee Taylor, 2) rising like a phoenix and 3) a bird with a broken wing, preferably a Thunderbird.

‘Uncle Lee, Uncle Lee!’ the twins shouted, rushing up to him and throwing themselves around his legs. He bent and scooped them up as their parents followed them at a more sedate pace, bemused smiles on their faces.

‘Tina, Vincent,’ Lee said, inclining his head to them as they all made their way back into the house, and the grins broadened. Some things would never change. As Lee sat down, one child on each knee, Kayo disappeared to get supper ready while Virgil entertained their guest.

Or rather, while their guest entertained them.

Lucy Ruth and Grant Jefferson Tracy loved their Uncle Lee. Even if he couldn’t get their names, or their parents’ names right, he told the best stories. They didn’t get to see him as often as they would like, but every time he visited the island he made sure to spend some time with them.

Virgil came over and held his arms out for one of his children. ‘Come on, bed time,’ he said, taking Grant as Lee stood up with Lucy. This was often the highlight of his visit, and Lee wouldn’t swap this opportunity for anything.

Putting the youngsters to bed, Virgil and Lee exchanged glances, waiting for the inevitable request, and Grant didn’t fail to deliver. ‘Story, Uncle Lee! Story!’ he clamoured, his sister joining in. Lee grinned. ‘Which one do you want to hear?’ The children shared a glance, then squealed together: ‘The phoenix! Tell us about the phoenix!’

Lee chuckled. He’d lost count of how often they requested this one and he sat in the chair between the two beds while Virgil disappeared to assist his wife in the kitchen, safe in the knowledge that his two would be well looked after.

‘Well, Lana and Gerry, have you ever seen a phoenix?’ he started, and as usual both children nodded and pointed at him. He rolled his right sleeve up to reveal the faded tattoo. The phoenix, rising from the flames and ashes, screaming defiance to the sky. ‘That’s right. I got this after a particularly difficult rescue…

‘Damn it, Lee, that was too close!’ Jeff yelled, pulling Thunderbird Two up and away sharply. The corresponding swearing told him that Lee was alright, if a bit shaken. The voice of his eldest came over the comms: ‘careful, Uncle Lee. We don’t want those roughneckers thinking you’re one of them rather than one of us rescuers!’ Jeff chuckled as Lee retorted rather sharply, ‘careful yourself, Spencer, we wouldn’t want you to…’ whatever he was saying was cut off by another explosion on the rig.

Ribbing would have to wait, and both Lee and Virgil got the rescue platform ready for its’ last run, while Jeff used Two and Scott used One to stabilise the platform enough to get the last lot of workers off. John confirmed from Five that all emergency protocols had been initiated, and that capping the well now only required the special missile Brains had put together.

Scott fired the missile once the rescue platform was safely away in Two, and both ’birds headed back to the mainland. Two dropped off the workers at the hospital and they headed back home, Virgil flying and his dad co-piloting him.

Not long after the four men could be found relaxing by the pool. International Rescue was still very new, that rescue had counted as their last single digit. Nine rescues in eight weeks. Sure they had started slowly, but as news spread about the organisation rescues were picking up. With all three of his eldest on board since the start, having had some background training in their respective fields beforehand, Virgil was now starting to go out and put his engineering skills to use. Jeff had made it very clear to his son that Two was his, but he needed some more training on the rescuing side before his dad would hand over control completely.

That was why Lee was here. Jeff and Scott may be pilots, but Lee was the engineer, as was Virgil, and Jeff had thought that his old friend and fellow astronaut would be ideal to help Virgil learn how to assess and react on the fly, as it were. Scott was an excellent commander, and could make snap decisions that were 99.9% right, but he wasn’t an engineer, and some of the decisions involving structural integrity and stability Virgil already knew how to call. It was what would make Scott and Virgil such a brilliant team – their respective skills complemented each other perfectly, they just needed honing.

Lee spent the next couple of days going over simulations with both boys, drills being run again and again until the two worked as one and they ‘won’ every time. They were fast studies, and Lee was more than happy at the way ‘Vincent’ picked up making decisions quickly, and his confidence at telling ‘Spencer’ when he was wrong or needed to take account of a variable.

He was preparing to return to Alpha Moon Base in two days. They spent his penultimate night with a barbeque, retelling how their dad and Lee had made the Mars landing, how Lee had needed to engineer a solution within seconds while Jeff was fighting to pilot the craft, how they barely made it. Sure, with every telling Lee embellished some part or other, but the overall story was not lost on Scott and Virgil. Always be aware of what you can use around you, think on your feet, Never Give Up.

The next morning all four were torn from their sleep by the emergency klaxon. 2:30 am was not a time any of them were used to getting up, but the ability to jump out of bed, dress and present oneself to the lounge for briefing Virgil was gradually getting used to. Scott never had a problem with this, his military training more than enough to prepare for this. John also didn’t have an issue with his NASA background.

It was, so far, their third early morning call. Getting into the lounge last was not unusual, but at least he was awake. Scott passed him a coffee that he seemed to magic from nowhere, and he gratefully sipped the scalding drink while John filled them all in.

A mine collapse in England with several workers trapped. However, the good news was that they had had notice, so the majority of workers had been able to get away. Scott was dispatched immediately, while Brains, Lee and Virgil poured over the plans of the mine and surrounding areas, checking geology and if there was going to be any surprises. The only thing they worried about was that there were several ventilation shafts dug out over the larger area, which was a forest, and the possibility of an explosion of the gases that naturally built up was quite high. With that knowledge in mind, Two set off with the Mole, Jeff piloting and Virgil co-piloting.

It took Scott no time at all to reach the mine, and his report confirmed everything that they had already known and prepared for. As he set about organising what he could on the ground, Virgil and Lee went over the geology again, mulling over potential issues and discussing contingency measures. Jeff listened in, his confidence and pride in how quickly his son had assimilated to his role growing.

Lee and Virgil took the mole down, and it was a textbook rescue. Five miners, minor injuries only, it took around an hour to get them all loaded on the mole. The injured were loaded onto the waiting ambulances and International Rescue were thanked profusely. As they cleared away the equipment and loaded everything, Jeff looked at Lee and he nodded. It was time. As the four returned to the ’birds, Virgil was surprised when his dad walked past Two and carried on to One with Scott. Scott glanced back at his brother, grinning madly, and gave him a thumbs-up.

‘Dad?’ called Virgil after them, uncertain despite his brother’s obvious glee. Jeff turned around and came over to his middle son, placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. ‘Virgil, you performed really well on this rescue, both Lee and Brains said you made the recommendations yourself, you decided where to drill, you looked out the potential danger sites. You’ve more than earnt the right to fly your ’bird home without your old man standing over your shoulder.’ He thumbed over his shoulder to a waiting Scott, ‘that’s your brother’s privilege today.’ Scott mock-scowled, but he really couldn’t keep the grin off his face, and neither could anyone else.

One shot off into the distance. Virgil knew his brother would be waiting for him, but for the moment One was out of sight, and Lee huffed something about ‘show-off flyboys’ and ‘like father like son.’ Virgil just grinned. They were all flyboys really, well, except possibly Gordon but even he could fly competently (not that their eldest brother would ever admit that), only Scott seemed to have inherited their father’s love of speed so far. Alan may have, but he was too young to earn his wings yet.

Two rose more slowly – majestically was the phrase Virgil preferred, thank you very much – but she had her own turn of speed. The take-off may not be as impressive as her sister but compared to other aircraft his girl was fantastic. Using her VTOL’s to gain enough lift to engage her main engine, both Virgil and Lee kept an eye on the forest around them so they didn’t set fire to any trees. Trying to ensure he didn’t, Virgil nudged Two forward as she rose.

They hadn’t got far into the air when Lee suddenly shouted. But whatever he was shouting about was lost in the roar of an explosion that rocked Two violently, catching her back and left side, causing her to spin out of control.

Lee came too with several voices yelling for him and Vincent, er…Virgil. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but at the moment his concentration was all on shutting the voices up to stop his head from hurting. Oh, yeah. He needed to open his eyes to do that, and boy was that a mistake. Bright light assaulted him, followed closely by the smell of burning…he knew that smell, it was familiar to him. The smell of burning electrics!

It was the jolt he needed to get himself moving. Unbuckling his belt, he quickly checked himself over, nope, no injuries other than the cracked head and possible whiplash. He wiped the blood off his forehead while he stood up.

Second big mistake. He immediately doubled over and vomited. Ok, make that cracked head, possible whiplash and a concussion. But there was something more important he needed to do. The shouting was still shrill in his head and ear, but he ignored it, hauling himself over to check on Vinc…Virgil. The young man was out cold, a similar gash to his head.

It was the fire all around them that worried him. There was an extinguisher – Brains ever the overcautious, but this was extensive and he knew he needed to get them both out of there quicker than treating the flames would allow for. But as he tried the upper exit the resultant failure to open was no surprise. They would need to get out of the cockpit and the side door.

One of the advantages of being ‘space-trained’, as Lee often termed it, was that it taught you to think on the fly and to use whatever was to hand. And what was on hand, just outside the cockpit, was a prototype suit Brains was in the middle of designing for Virgil, to assist with heavy lifting. At the moment the bare bones were there, and it would be the best thing to use. Even if opening the door was easy, they would be surrounded by debris.

Good job he was strong, Lee reflected, hoisting Jeff’s middle boy into a fireman’s carry. This boy was heavy! He staggered out of the cockpit and into the service way, stopping before the entrance to the pod. The exosuit was housed here, a small area set aside for her, and Lee was thankful that he and Vincent were the same height as he carefully laid the lad down and got into the suit.

As with everything Brains created, the suit adjusted to fit him, and Lee marvelled at the engineering behind it. With a whirl of gears and pistons lee was moving, Vinny over his shoulder, over to the doorway. Thankfully this one slid open easily, Cahelium being so very tough, but outside the ’bird the forest was ablaze.

No sooner had Two got caught up in the fireball, Five had notified One, and a horrified pair of rescuers turned around and raced back in time to see her crash. Training taking over familial responsibilities, they set about using One’s cannon to blast the rapidly spreading fire. Jeff knew that One didn’t carry enough to douse this and directed John to call the local fire services. Scott set One down some distance away, both men inwardly seething at the distance needed because of the fire.

Their priority was to get Lee and Virgil out, so donning their fireproof suits Jeff grabbed two spare oxygen tanks while Scott grabbed extra fire extinguishing tanks, and the two set off while John constantly called to the downed men.

As Jeff and Scott burst through the forest they were met by an astonishing sight. Lee Taylor, resplendent in the exosuit prototype, Virgil over his shoulder, both bathed in the flames around them. The exosuit, still unpainted in this testing phase, shone reds and yellows. They appeared almost in slow motion.

Later, later Scott would mention how like the phoenix Lee looked appearing so suddenly. But right now, all their attention was focused on rescuing Lee and Virgil and putting out the fire.

…and once your Uncle Scott mentioned the Phoenix, that was it. Of course, that was the seed sown, but I didn’t get the tattoo straight away. Returning to Alphie was next on the cards, and it wasn’t until several years later, when your Grandpa Jeff was missing. When your Uncles Spencer and Alvin came to rescue me and Alphie was destroyed I felt that my life as an astronaut was over. Then Spencer gave me another chance when we went to Mars.

When Tina, your mom, came and found me I felt that I was given a second chance at life at my age, and I remembered Spencer remarking about the phoenix and I thought “that’s me, that’s my life.” Your uncles gave me my life back, a second life just like the phoenix. Then they went and rescued your Grandpa, and my third life began, teaching the next generation of Mars settlers.’

By the time Lee had finished both children were asleep, and Virgil and Kayo were wrapped around each other in the doorway. Hearing how their weird Uncle Lee saved their dad’s life never failed to fascinate the pair, and they loved the tattoo. Virgil had been honoured when he’d been asked to design it.

The three adults retired to the living room to reminisce.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #lee taylor #jeff tracy #submission

17 notes · View notes

selfproducingfanfictionauthor · 4 years

Text

The Lore of the Forest - Prologue

Summary: Nothing ancient and magical is ever really lost. When the descendants and heirs of the myths and legends come together to live a normal life, something - someone - is thrown into their plans. Bringing with them aid, magic and so much more.

Pairing: Eventual BTS x Reader Genre: Poly, Romance, Fantasy Chapter Warnings: Loooong funeral rites, somebody dies and lives again and reader is not around, eventually it’s gonna be a lot of world-building

Funerals, Seokjin’s grandmother used to say, are more for the living than for the dead, as most rituals tend to be. It is a way to provide time for the grieving to process their grief while dressing their dead. It is a time for families and friends to come together- a life’s end bringing a community together as much as a life’s beginning. It is a time for stories and for truths magnified and lies sharpened as the left behind share the good and never the bad about the dead.

“What good would it have done?” his grandmother said, a weary and bitter smile tugging at her thin lips, when his mother angrily eyed the other aged, albeit, younger woman across them at the other side of the pyre. They had just watched his grandfather’s body burned as per tradition when the woman from beyond the mountains he left them for arrived.

His grandfather was an attractive man from whom Seokjin inherited his broad shoulders and dark eyes. The fae blood still running strong in their line - always making them eye-catching, desirable and dangerous. The most attractive man in the village, his grandmother used to say. He married his grandmother at the young age of 16, before he even presented, had children with her when he was 18 and left her when he was 22. He left them after a travelling caravan brought him the woman from beyond the mountains, and he stayed with her until he was 60 only to come back to his grandmother on his death bed.

Needless to say, Seokjin’s mother and two uncles were livid. Their relationship remained strained even after two decades of his grandfather trying to make amends. However, whatever hate his mother harbored for her father paled in comparison to the hatred she nurtured and cradled in her heart against the woman that took him away from them.

“What do you mean, what good would it have done?” his mother spat out, her hand tightening around the then eight year-old Seokjin’s. “How dare she even show her face here? She—”

Quietly, his grandmother held up a hand, silencing her child. Seokjin remembers how her grandmother’s pale eyes curved into a small smile directed to the woman from beyond the mountains. Soft and understanding, with a hint of heartbreak.

“We got your father’s body in the end.” His grandmother’s eyes flickered to the ashes on the ground. Most of the people have left, leaving their immediate family to stand still until the last of the cracking firewood burns out.

His mother blinked rapidly, watching the fire burn out and it was the only time Seokjin ever saw his mother look like a lost child. “But what’s good in a body?” she asked, voice cracking of lost childhood and longing. I wanted him alive, she perhaps thought, I wanted him around – I wanted him to stay.

Finally, as the embers died out and the woman from beyond the mountains retreated with her back hunched, his grandmother answered, lips shaking, “At least you have something to bury.”

Seokjin never understood what that meant. In his young mind, it didn’t matter whether you had the body or not, your loved one was still dead – gone to a place you cannot retrieve them from. However, now, looking at the empty pyre in front of him, Seokjin knows that he would give absolutely everything just to have something concrete to mourn over.

From beside him, tense and with angry eyes, he knows that Yoongi feels the same. The younger man stare angrily at the empty pile of wood and if he had even less control, he would’ve set it on fire easily.

Though angry, Seokjin could still see the thin film of tears that his friend refused to let go. He knows Yoongi blames himself for the emptiness in front of them and yet Seokjin doesn’t know how to comfort him yet – not when all of them are mourning. Across them, Namjoon stands tall beside Hoseok, their mourning robes painting them wan, the grief swaying them like windblown trees closer to each other. At the east is Jimin, shaking, his control of his powers loose, evident at the quick changing of the shade of his hair, and at the west is Taehyung, both carrying their dead brothers garments.

The villagers have already paid their respects to their family, leaving them to their own grief and process. Nobody wanted to mention how this funeral is a month too late, nobody dared. Not with Namjoon forming scouting troops week after week, not with Hoseok silencing anyone who dared insinuate Jungkook’s disappearance as anything but and definitely not with Yoongi’s glowering mood after every failed retrieval mission.

It was just a normal scouting day, Seokjin thinks. So normal it should’ve been suspicious. They hadn’t had an incident with any creatures or neighboring settlements in almost a year, so much so that they got confident – cocky, careless, even and sent their youngest out alone.

Jungkook was so excited, as he always was, and bragged that he’d catch a bear AND a wild pig for dinner. But hours passed, then days… he didn’t come back. By the second day of his disappearance, Namjoon and Hoseok went out to scout, only to come back empty handed. The third day was followed by Taehyung and Jimin, the fourth with Yoongi and himself – and yet, every time, they came back defeated. The whole settlement then pitched in, volunteering to come with and expand their area of search.

The first week was easy, logistically. The second, not-so much. At every failed attempt, the morale and hope dipped deeper and deeper.

It wasn’t until the third week that one of the remaining elders approached Namjoon about a funeral. Yoongi almost went mad, upturning the table inside their home, when the elder reminded them of how Jungkook’s soul will suffer if not guided properly. The old man was ancient, and though Yoongi was old as well but that man lived through the two great wars and held sway in the village still, albeit built on old respect.

Namjoon had asked for another week and it paid off, in a way that broke their hearts. At the very edge of the dark forests, they found Jungkook’s broken weapons, a shoe and dried blood. The blood that painted the forest floor like spilled water from a jug, and though none of them said it out loud, they knew that nobody survived losing that much blood. Not in the forest and definitely not alone.

And so there they are.

Seokjin have attended the most funerals as the their settlement’s quasi-healer. Out of respect, he attended the funerals of those he cannot save, and so he knows what comes next.

At the ringing of the first bell, Jimin steps forward from the east, from where the sun rises, with Jungkook’s oldest clothes. It lies lightly on his hands, pale and threadbare from years of use. From Seokjin’s place, he could see an old shirt with a patched up hole by the collar and remembers how Jungkook tore it when he was 13 and climbing trees, and Seokjin chokes back a wail, biting his lips and willing himself not to look away.

Jimin speaks as he tosses the clothes into the fire, the dancing embers reflected in his brown eyes, “From East, where all things begin, I speak: blood at childbirth, you are honored.”

Above them, the second bell rings and he and Yoongi step forward. Yoongi cradles a lacquered box containing the hide of Jungkook’s first solo kill. In an ironic twist of fate, it was that of a wild pig. When Jungkook killed it, it was Yoongi who taught him how to butcher it, dry its hide and smoke its meat, and now, it too is tossed into the fire.

Seokjin speaks, the older of the two, and says, “From the North, where all things grow, I speak: blood of youth, you are honored.”

The third bell echoes, as a hush falls into the clearing. The sun is now setting and it paints them orange as Namjoon and Hoseok step forward. The fire has grown bigger and Seokjin almost misses what they brought. With their palms turned up, they carry the replica of earrings they forged as a family. Jungkook never took it off once he received his, none of them did, and so upon his disappearance, Namjoon and Hoseok took the job of creating replicas to toss into the fire.

It is made from the ore at the edge of the continent and forged with their hottest fires. Jungkook’s pair was simple studs with his animal etched onto it with careful hands. Upon tossing it into the pyre, Hoseok comes forward and speaks, “From the South, here, I speak: blood of the covenant, you are honored.”

For a moment, nobody wants to move, just staring at the burning pyre of their youngest brother’s belongings, his body lost to them. It aches something painful in their bones, the loss of their youngest, a failure as his older brothers to protect him. Although Jungkook was already a man by their settlement’s standards, it still hurt. Sometimes, at night, Seokjin swears he could still feel their bond thrumming from his heart to the dark forest - but by dawn, it was gone. The hope lulled him to sleep, only to break his heart awake over and over again.

The last of the bells will be ringing anytime now, and Taehyung shivers at the cold and finality of it. In his arms is all of Jungkook’s remaining clothing, his favorite furs, his colorful bands, his beads – and Taehyung doesn’t want to let go.

But finally, the last bell rings…

Followed by another. And another, one after another, coming faster and faster.

Heads whipping to the watch tower, they could see the bell ringing continuously, pulled by whomever was in charge below. It’s a blatant disrespect – and Namjoon almost whirls back into the settlement in anger when a young boy breaks into the clearing, gasping for air, his hair littered with leaves and branches.

It’s Namjoon’s apprentice, Kyun. He falls to his knees at their agitation, and gasps; “It’s… It’s Jungkook – he’s… He’s alive!”

And he is, indeed, alive.

Alive and in very good condition. Just unconscious, Seokjin confirms.

“How… how did this happen?” Jimin asks, sitting by Jungkook’s shoulder. He, Taehyung and Seokjin are gathered in their house’s common room after deciding that Jungkook’s room was too small for everyone to keep an eye on him. Tears have not stopped spilling from Jimin’s eyes from the moment he saw his brother’s silhouette leaning against the watch tower. “I mean, we looked everywhere!”

“Is it even important? He’s here, he’s alive.” Taehyung answers, still shaking in relief. At the back of his mind, he’s thankful he didn’t burn his brother’s clothes – or else, Jungkook will be pissed. He eyes Jungkook’s round cheeks, rounder than a month ago it seem and the tighter fit of his clothes.

There are so many questions but none he cared for at the moment.

Rounding from the kitchen, Seokjin nods and sets down a tray of bread in front of the two, gesturing for them to eat. Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi have left to attend to the members of the settlement, assuring them and gathering information about Jungkook’s arrival. He was unconscious when he was found, it’s a given that somebody brought him back – but who?

As if summoned, Namjoon enters their home followed by Hoseok and Yoongi, all the tension from their shoulders melting away at the sight of their brother. Here, complete, Yoongi feels most at ease even with the uneasy situation they’ve brought back.

“Here, let’s talk in the kitchen.” Seokjin invites.

Pulling the divider close, Hoseok crosses his arms and sighed. They are all exhausted, physically and more-so emotionally. It’s been a roller-coaster of a month but still gratitude wins out as a smile tugs on Hoseok’s lips. “That boy’s always been dramatic.”

It fishes out a short bark of laughter from Yoongi, “This is a little too much for my tastes, I have to say.”

Eyes darting between his two older brothers, Jimin clicks his tongue. “Care to share with the rest of the table, hyung?”

Hoseok nods towards Namjoon and the latter rolls his eyes but acquiesces, after swallowing a piece of bread.

“Our patrols found him by the outpost, inside a basket.” Namjoon starts, (“A basket? What is he, a baby?”) and ignores Taehyung’s jibe. “Yes, a basket. It’s in the gatherer’s hut, they could use it for fruits. It’s expertly weaved – which leads us to believe that someone took care of Guk that’s why we can’t find him.”

Seokjin almost smiles at Jungkook’s old baby name, the one he was called before he earned his second syllable.

“Jin, what injuries does Jungkook have?” Namjoon asks, the lilt of his voice revealing a bit of his leader’s blood.

Seokjin checked him over earlier, after washing the grime of his body and he found an assortment of those. “He has a broken leg, well, had – somebody set it well, a fractured arm and I found… bear scars on his back and temple.”

“Scars? You mean scabbing?” Yoongi asked, suspicious. “It’s too soon for wounds that big to scar over.”

“I know,” the healer nods, he shrugs his broad shoulders. Unless Jungkook managed to hide an incident with a bear from them, then Seokjin’s sure that those injuries are new. Even when the only proof he has are the paling bruises surrounding each one. “I don’t understand it either.”

“Whether or not they healed Jungkook,” Namjoon starts, glancing beyond the divider, “We’re still not sure of their intention, so we’re strengthening our forces and rotating the guards until we get more information. How long do we have to wait until Jungkook wakes up?”

“Give or take a day.”

Hoseok nods, already listing up a series of question for their youngest to answer. “A day it is.”

“The mirror never lies.” a quiet voice murmured. It sounds so far away and yet it surrounds him still and Jungkook wills himself to focus. He is face down, his face slotted right inside a hole on the wooden table. Where is he? All he could see is dirt and all he could hear the sounds of a stream nearby and the crackling of hearth.

Why can’t he move? Under him is a thin blanket, covering the wooden bed. It’s scratchy and has several holes. There is a warmth beside him and a rustle of clothing before a damp cloth makes contact with his back. The searing pain has Jungkook groaning and flinching away, only to find his limbs heavy and unresponsive.

Fuck, what is this.

“You’re strong. I’ve given you three doses and you’re still struggling. Well, to be expected of your kind, I suppose.” The voice observed, barely surprised at his movement. “Your kind”? Safe in their abilities, Jungkook observes. A rival settlement? A witch? No – they haven’t been around in centuries.

“Try not to struggle so much,” the voice murmured again, this time, close to Jungkook’s ear, “this is for your own good.”

Jungkook wakes up gasping, surprising Jimin who was sleeping beside him.

“Jungkook! You’re awake!” Jimin smiled, almost reaching out to his brother when he noticed Jungkook murmuring to himself. “Jungkook?”

In the dark, Jungkook’s eyes glow blue, darting left to right, reeling from his dream. Or was it a memory? What was it? It’s quickly fading into smoke-- barely registering the fact that he was home – home! – and surrounded by his slowly waking up hyungs, Jungkook turns to Jimin and almost shouts, “Bring me a quill, quick!”

“Stream, berries, peppermint… what is this?” Yoongi his right hand on his face, exasperatedly. Across him, Hoseok shrugs, taking off his boots and hanging his vest. The hunt went well, the captured deers helping them stock up for the coming winter.

Yoongi is holding the parchment of paper Jungkook wrote on the first night he regained consciousness. It’s barely legible, some words are completely unreadable while the few that could be deciphered make absolutely no sense. And it was useless to ask Jungkook, because the next time he woke up, he didn’t even remember writing it – or anything that happened to him the last month he was missing.

It’s deeply concerning to Namjoon as the leader of their settlement and as their brother. Jungkook’s lack of memories mean that there could be nothing of use to prepare. Knowledge has always been Namjoon’s style of leadership, and without proper information, Yoongi knows that he feels like he’s running blind.

Added precaution was given to everyone in the settlement and while some find it reassuring, others are vocal in asking why they can no longer hunt alone and so on. Without a solid reason to give them, Namjoon has been busy placating any disgruntled member of the group along with Taehyung, whose presence provides a calming effect that none of them could replicate.

“I feel like we’re missing something here.” Yoongi muses. The blacksmith turned over the parchment as if the answer will suddenly materialize if he turned it over enough times.

Hoseok snorts and fishes the paper from Yoongi’s fingers, “You think?”

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi pokes his tongue against his cheek. He has half the mind to just let go of the whole thing and just be thankful that their brother is back and healthy, but as a responsible part of their community, figuring out who and why they healed their brother was priority.

More importantly, the question of how they healed them continuously pop in and out their family’s conversation.

No one has seen anything like it. When they asked Jungkook, his last memory was fighting a bear before being cut down with the animal’s weight. He remembers its claw tearing through the sinew of his back, and its front legs breaking his left thigh. However, almost no proof of it existed when he returned – and now, just a week after, he’s bounding here and there as if brand new.

If there’s someone out there with that ability, Yoongi thinks, bringing them into the fold will be beneficial to all. By whatever means necessary.

#bts fanfiction #bts x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #settlement au #magical humans #namjoon x reader #rapmon x reader #jim x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #kpop fanfiction #this fic came out of nowhere jeez #witchy reader

102 notes · View notes

ellipsesarefun · 4 years

Text

DAMIRAE DAY 5: Soulbond

A/N: SO THIS CAME OUT OF NOWHERE I SWEAR HAHHAHAAH. It’s probs the coffee talking but damn. Finished this baby todaaayyy after reviewing for a subject (and damn is this a weird day because writing and studying feels like two different worlds) so this will be queued to post on the 14th or 15th? Maybe I’m too excited but it’s been awhile since I’ve been excited to write something.. Been awhile since I’ve used 1st POV. This is probs a bit messy :( But I’ll edit some stuff out someday..

May not be participating anymore but I hope to come back to DamiRae <3 It’s been a comfort to me during my study breaks.

------

There are some things about my magic that I cannot fully comprehend nor explain.

Ever since I’ve healed the young Robin, I’ve been receiving vivid dreams. I can’t fully grasp the images but the emotions that wake me to reality are always filled with heartaches, pining, and desperation. I never bothered to clue anyone in on what they are. Kory knows I have dreams but I can never tell her what happens in them because I don’t know how to describe them.. Damian has his ways of knowing. The little bird never lets me forget that. But he never asked, just implied. And I never said anything, merely let him draw his own conclusions.

I’ve been harboring feelings for him for a long time but I never acted on them for a number of reasons... Sometimes, we were romantically and sexually involved with other people. Other times, there never seemed to be a time and place to voice it out on the open. The moments we spent alone meditating, reading together, flying during my nightly rituals are the moments I cherish too much to let him feel my burden.

But out of all the reasons I've expounded, My father is the center. Even when I have created an enchanted fortress created out of his and my own demonic magic (with the help of Constantine and Zatanna), I still fear that he may one day break through those chains and destroy Earth... and kill Damian. Trigon senses the bond between us and it disgusts him.

His insults hit right through my own insecurities. I mean technically, he is trapped in crystal that’s stored in a small box that I carry around but damnit there are times when his thoughts crowd over to mine and... it terrifies me.

The mechanics of the bond isn’t the “if he dies, then I die too” but more of “I feel his presence more than I let on”. I still have no idea if it also might be the former, but the latter is one that I experience often. I don't always know what he is feeling (I may be an Empath but I have my mental barriers to maintain). It's only when he's in danger do my senses burn right through my barriers. It probably comes with this strong sense of protectiveness within me, a desperate need to keep him safe... and it’s becoming a little too obvious.

Throughout the six years as Titans, training with Damian has gradually become a torture... Every urge to shot turns into every urge to shield him from the pain... Every scar he receives fuels my anger against those who dare to hurt him, especially the enemies we’ve faced during missions and/or patrol.

The last one was worse. I arrived at the scene with him on the floor, body tainted with bruises and then..

I saw him on the floor.. suddenly burnt into ashes.. face barely recognizable... I heard my screams of agony, despair, and heartbreak as I watched my other self enveloping him in what seems a spell..

I love you...

And it wasn’t a dream but a memory... It all felt so real, like I was in Apokolips (what the hell is Apokolips?) once more and the Earth has crumbled to its fucked up state and he was gone and I needed to save him (from what?)...

I didn’t even stop to comprehend what it was and I lost my control.

AZARATH. METRION. ZINTHOS!

...

I blacked out, I think, and now I find myself back in the infirmary of the Titans Tower. Not a single glimpse of a sunlight reached the room and nothing stands out from the dark except a figure sitting beaide me.

"Hi." Is the only greeting I offered. Damian stands and turns the lights back on. He sits back down, burning holes into my skull. I squint at the brightness and immediately force myself to focus at some place that isn't him.. I couldn't bare to look at him.

I hear a sigh but I let my gaze linger at the clock far longer than I liked, matching my breaths with the ticks and tocks of the arrows of the clock. His agitation prickles at my senses like a thorn to my side. The damned urge to come and wrap him in my arms gradually resurfaces once more.

He clears his throat just in time, like he already knew what I was thinking and I look down, hoping he doesn’t notice the heat pooling my cheeks.

“Look,” he says and I pause my train of thought, “You and I both know there’s more to this that letting your demon lose and almost killing Dr. Light, so let’s not beat around the bush.” I couldn’t look at him, I just can’t bear to.. But I nodded, just so he knows that I’m taking his words seriously (and I always do)..

I might as well tell him..

“I’ve been having nightmares ever since the first time I healed you.” There’s movement from my periphery but I ignore it, “Of you.. dying...” Silence is his only answer so I continued.

“It wasn’t that bad at first but through years it’s been difficult to fight this desire to protect you all the time.” I haven’t reached the most important part yet and I’m already feeling the rising tension in the air. He holds up a hand, and I wait for him to speak as I try to calm my heartbeat.

“Raven, I was trained by the League of the Assassins. I know how to handle myself-”

“I know you do, Damian.” I cut him off, hearing my voice rise a bit,

(And I realize later that he didn't need to say this because damnit the smart ass saw right through me. He only did so to bait me into confessing.)

“But these aren’t nightmares.. not really. They’re from another timeline.” I let out a sigh. This conversation is beginning to exhaust me but he needs to know. I turn to him this time and he’s not holding back his own concern etched on his face. He gets up from his chair and sits at the edge of my bed. My gaze drifts to his hand. I remember a lingering feeling, probably from another memory of that timeline, that he’d reach out and hold my hand in his.

“There was a war.. We were around at this age..” I continue, “We were trying to stop someone and... you died in the process. I revived you.. brought you back from the dead.” I watch him watch me. Not a single gasp was uttered nor any ounce of surprised was showed on his face. I didn’t sense any of that. There was so much I can pick from that unreadable frown.

Longing, concern, understanding.. and it’s only occurred to me that he knows. He’s known this whole time. I was too engrossed to what he felt and what Trigon may do that I didn’t stop to read through his actions. But does he...

No.. I shouldn't ask... not when I haven't laid all the cards out..

"We have a bond.. sort of." I say, and he nods, confirming of his own assumptions, "But I'm not sure if this will get us killed. So far the pain inflicted on you does not mean I receive the same kind of pain. It just fuels my drive to protect you."

"And you think that this was a result from our previous affections to one another in that timeline." He concludes.

"We never really spent time together as... together." I say. It feels out of the blue but something about what I said needed to be heard, "You left for the League of Assassins. You offered me a place there because you had feelings for me. I would have went with you if Trigon hadn't threatened me to kill you if I stayed..."

I face him, feeling this odd confidence swelling within me. "I do still have feelings for you. And Trigon still wants to kill you so.. that hasn't changed.."

There is a slight elation and giddiness within me as I catch a mixture of bewilderment and amusement on his features. But my heart begins to soar as I watch a tiny, tender smile drawn by his lips.

I've seen that smile before.. a couple of times. There were only glimpses of that smile during our many glances throughout the years, hidden beneath the layers of his mask.

And now the last of his mask has finally come off.

"Raven," he says and I feel the tingle in my ears at the sound of my name, "You should know by now that my perseverance exceeds the fear of being devoured by demonic conquerer of worlds."

I frown at him. "You sound so sure of yourself..."

"You've defeated him twice, Raven." He reasons, "In this timeline and probably in other timelines. You were lucky, you say, but now.. you're--no, we're, more than four times as lucky."

"Damian.. where is this all coming from?" I ask, because he makes it sound so simple. Like he's up against merely a strict father who wouldn't let his daughter marry the person she loves in those cheesy romcoms. But this isn't a romcom. This is Trigon, for Azar's sake..

"He isn't called a Conquerer of Worlds for no reason!"

"And that doesn't stop you for creating a tiny fortress that entraps and gradually diminishes his demonic magic instead of trapping him in a crystal and sticking it to your forehead from your other timeline. Look Raven,” he continues, “You and I both know that there’s something between us? Why wait for the inevitable?” Why wait till I leave for the League of Assassins? Why wait till the possibility of Apokolips comes around again? He leans in and his bright green eyes search my own.

I keep my frown on my face, not wanting to give in to his charms. He throws back a smirk because he's fucking...

"Insufferable. That’s what you are." I spit the words at him, only halfheartedly at best. He laughs. The cheeky fucker is laughing me.

"But I'm a kind and generous soul." He teases with a grin on his face. And shit, I can't fight my own my smile any longer. He reaches out and I meet him halfway, entwining our fingers together. I haven't affirmed anything but the gesture already is the answer. Our answer. We’ve been dancing around this for a long time. Might as well take the chance before it’s too late.

Something magical, his aura perhaps, loops with my own. I close my eyes let the magic guide me.. and him. A meadow materializes itself and I find him in the distance, his smile warm and inviting. I extend my hand to him and he mirrors my actions. A raven flies out of my hand and another one out of his. At the same time we open our eyes and-

The magic suddenly bursts forth into a kaleidoscope of colors, a plethora of shapes of any kind. They all coalesce into a giant raven. A white raven. It soars above us, circling around the room with a happy tune. It eventually disappears into a sparkle of fireworks. We laugh and turn our gazes to one another.

With foreheads pressed against each other, we guide our silent conversation with twinkles in our eyes and smiles forming on our lips. It's like those typical chessy lovebird montage things people see in romantic subplots. It might be the calmness of the air or the sleep edging its way through my train of thought but I can sense our heartbeats in sync. A lullaby to my woes, perhaps, but someone like me can hope that this bond is knitting our souls into a comfortable blanket, however mysterious and unpredictable it may be.

Trigon's box rattles on the table. I almost forgot that it was there in the first place. I feel his presence, cursing disgusting words at the edge of my aura but I pay no heed.

After all, I'm a billion times luckier now.

#damirae week 2020 #damirae #Damian Wayne #Raven #ellipsesarefun writes #life is just.. a mess #Someday I'll comeback to this #queue

65 notes · View notes

lokislytherin · 4 years

Text

euphoria // vampire!jungkook

pairing: vampire!jeon jeongguk x human!reader

summary: you’re scared of vampires - until one saves your life one night.

word count: 1988 + 1808 + 2373 + 1798 + 1046 + 2113

chapters: prologue / chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / epilogue

"No!" Jeongguk howls as you fall unconscious, brown eyes rolling to the back of your head.

He knows too well how much being bitten without permission hurts, and it hurts to see you in pain like this. A red haze of rage floods in before his eyes, and his fangs slide out of his gums. If it means keeping you alive, he's more than willing to unleash the feral beast inside. Both sides of him have a common goal now - the side of him that's still human wants to protect you, and the vampire side wants a continuous supply of your sweet blood, preferably fresh.

Seokjin's motorbike screeches to a halt, the witch jumping off nimbly and landing on both feet. He taps Jeongguk's head with his phone-staff, linking their minds. Focus, Jeongguk, Jin says, keep your emotions in check. You won't win this without a clear head.

Even through the rage, Jeongguk can register his words as a warning. He takes a deep breath, and the red dissipates. He knows you'd prefer him alive - or as alive as he is now - and he'd prefer you alive too. Besides, if you died, who knows what Seokjin would do to him?

I'll create a distraction and bring Y/N to safety. I trust you to deal with this leech without attracting mortal attention. He pats Jeongguk's shoulder in an almost brotherly manner, and Jeongguk is suddenly glad the other man is with him. Go get your vengeance, JK. I'll turn a blind eye. The vampire holding your unconscious body hostage sneers at the duo standing before him. "How unexpected: a witch and a vampire joining forces to protect a lowly human. My, I never thought I'd see the day! All you're missing now is a werewolf."

Next to Jeongguk, Seokjin goes rigid.

Jeongguk snarls, baring his fangs in a challenge. "Let her go." Jin's eyes dart from side to side, planning the best way to get Y/N out and escape. "If you want her, you'll have to go through me. And you hurt her, so I'll kill you."

Jeongguk sounds more confident than he is, and the vampire must have picked up on it, for he shrieks out a laugh. "Oh, little leech. So young and naive." His nails are long and dirty, so filthy and unkempt they resemble claws. He looks like something out of Dracula. "I wonder how your little blood bag will taste." You're already bleeding from two puncture wounds in your neck, but with a slice of a nail, he slits your throat, blood spurting out of your jugular. Seokjin grits his teeth, fists clenched. "Mmm, she smells good, doesn't she?" The older vampire taunts.

Jeongguk's nostrils flare, but he tries not to inhale. He doesn't want to confirm the other bloodsucker's words, but neither can he deny it. Seokjin's scent is the only thing tethering him to sanity - the base of it is calming rose, but his anxiety smells like sour blackcurrants. Stay calm, Jeongguk tells himself, stay calm. Do it for Y/N. It's time, Seokjin murmurs in his mind. Close your eyes.

Jeongguk listens wisely. "Look behind you," the witch sneers right back at the vampire.

Like the fool that he is, the vampire turns his back to Seokjin, and Jeongguk closes his eyes just in time to sense a sharp burst of light from behind his eyelids. When the light fades, both Y/N and the witch are gone, the only trace of their presence bloodstains and motorbike tire tracks.

Jeongguk sighs a silent breath of relief. At least you're safe now.

"Stupid witch." The vampire scowls, fangs gleaming as red as his eyes. "Now you've cost me my dinner." He rises to his feet with an ugly smile, flexing his fingers and claws. "Time to settle this like real men, little leech."

“You’re not a man,” Jeongguk spits out, “you’re a monster.”

The bloodsucker quirks a brow, grinning at Jeongguk. It's vile, and it makes the hairs on the back of his neck raise. "And what makes you so different, little leech?" He takes a step forward, but Jeongguk will not be cowed. "We're the same, you and me. We're vampires, we need fresh blood to survive. You've probably killed humans before. You can deny it all you want, but you know you're a monster too."

"You're wrong," Jeongguk grunts, crouching into a fighting stance that's as familiar to him as his own body. The bloodsucker delights in seeing the younger vampire tremble, knowing he has hit a sore spot. Jeongguk clenches his fists, knees bent, jaw set. "You were the one who turned me." The vampire hums. "Oh, I remember you. You put up one hell of a fight, little Taekwondo boy." He licks his lips. "The fear only made your blood sweeter."

The young vampire growls, forcing down the bile that rises in his throat. "I'll kill you for hurting Y/N."

"I'm a vampire. I'm already dead." He smiles, malice gleaming in his crimson eyes. "But you already know that, don't you, little Taekwondo boy?"

Little does the bloodsucker know, Jeongguk has a wooden stake hidden in the inner pocket of his jacket, courtesy of Seokjin. You'll need backup, the older man had told him beforehand, once I leave with Y/N, I won't be coming back for you. She doesn't heal like we do. Seokjin had pressed the stake into his hands. I trust you to walk out of there safe and hurt as little as possible.

Stabbing the stake into the bloodsucker's chest would be an act of mercy, and terrible as it sounds, Jeongguk wants the other vampire to feel pain. He deserves it for hurting Y/N, doesn't he?

But is it right? Would it make him as much of a monster as the other vampire if he were to kill him slowly? He banishes the thoughts from his brain with a shake of his head. He can't afford to be thinking like this.

"You can't kill me, can you, little Taekwondo boy?" The vampire mocks him, malice in his eyes. "You're too weak." Jeongguk snaps.

The only time he'll ever be weak is when he's with you, and are you here now?

No.

Back when he learned Taekwondo, his master had always told him to have courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control and indomitable spirit. Even now, he would not fail his master - he'd taken those words on as rules of life, not just sports. A year ago, he had been human, terrified kicks and punches no match for the vampire.

Now, he's a vampire. He's ten times stronger than he was before, and he won't lose. Just pretend it's a Taekwondo match, he thinks to himself. One point for a basic torso attack, two for a spinning kick to the body, and three for a kick to the head.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he goes immediately for a punch to the torso, gauging the other vampire's speed in comparison to his. The vampire nimbly dodges out of the way, but Jeongguk isn't fazed - it's just like a regular match, except neither he nor his opponent are human and they are fighting at twice the speed of a normal match.

Now, for a spinning kick - he launches himself off the ground in a roundhouse kick, aiming for the head. It would've been a brilliant kick: after years of training, he had perfect form, with immense strength and speed to match.

What a pity the other bloodsucker had to grab him by the foot and slam him down onto the ground, digging sharp nails into his leg.

"I won't fall for that again," hisses the leech.

If the bloodsucker will play dirty, Jeongguk will do the same. The rules of Taekwondo don't apply anymore, not when your opponent is fighting to kill. Jeongguk will not give up, not when your life is at stake, as are the lives of the innocents who may be subjected to vampirism in the future.

No more people will be subjected to the bloodsucker's cruelty, not if Jeongguk can help it.

He charges forward, body slamming into the bloodsucker with superhuman strength and speed. He tackles his opponent to the cold concrete floor, fists driving mercilessly into his face.

The older bloodsucker retaliates with a hiss that sounds more animal than human, sharp nails slicing at his skin. They're literally fighting with tooth and claw - Jeongguk can feel the vampire draw blood with his nails, and he doesn't hesitate to take a chunk out of the leech's arm when it comes too close to his face.

What would Y/N think if she saw you like this? He squashes the thought. Perhaps there is no honor among the undead - they must fight to survive, through whatever means necessary.

A split second of distraction is all it takes for the other vampire to pick him up like he weighs nothing, tossing him against a nearby wall with superhuman strength. Jeongguk's eyes widen, hearing the air whoosh by his ears before an ominous crack in his chest reverberates in his body.

He grunts upon impact. A broken rib, probably. It hurts, but he refuses to show how much it does - letting the bloodsucker see the pain would be a victory to his opponent.

The bloodsucker stalks to where Jeongguk lies slumped against the floor with a hand cradled around his chest. "Not so tough now, little Taekwondo boy?"

I trust you to walk out of there safe and hurt as little as possible, Jin's voice echoes in his head. Do it for Y/N.

He raises a claw, ready to deliver the killing blow. He sneers down at the younger vampire. "You've gotten better, little Taekwondo boy. But still not good enough."

Jeongguk grits his teeth through the pain. "You're wrong," he growls, voice deadly quiet. He smiles coldly. His jaw is clenched, eyes stormy blue. "Goodbye."

He yanks the stake out of his pocket with superhuman speed and rams it into the bloodsucker's chest with all the strength he has.

It goes right through the heart.

The bloodsucker's eyes widen in shock before an unholy wail rips out of his mouth. Jeongguk watches, emotionless, as the vampire before him explodes into smoke and ash. The air of death weighs heavily in the air, the scent of blood lingering on the floor, on his skin. Death tastes bitter on his tongue, but the primal, sadistic side of him savors the taste.

Jeongguk hears and smells them coming before he sees - two pairs of footsteps; two males, one smelling like rain and the other like pine wood. It smells clean, but the vampire crinkles his nose when he sees them.

They're hunters, dressed in dark jeans and leather. There are only two of them, alone, attracted by the miasma of death and the bloodsucker's last scream. From his position in the dark, he sees the light of a torch flicker. It doesn't shine on him.

"Namjoon, what do you sense?" One hunter asks.

The hunter - Namjoon - hums thoughtfully. "Somebody's already done our job for us. Two vampires, one's dead. I can't sense where the other one is."

'Sense' is an odd word to use in this situation, but Jeongguk doesn't question it. He doesn't know why Namjoon the hunter is sparing him, but he's glad. If they're here, they were probably planning to kill him.

"Are you sure?" The other hunter presses. "There's blood around here." He pokes around at Y/N's bloodstains, but the other hunter still shakes his head, telling his partner one vampire is gone and the only thing left of the other is ash and dust.

Jeongguk glances at himself. His shirt is stained black with blood, skin peeling from his knuckles, a long gash running down one calf, On the other calf, there are crescent moons marked in blood. His chest aches from the pain of a broken rib, and he knows he won't heal unless he feeds.

It's time for him to leave.

He lopes off into the shadows and leaves the hunters to their work, an insignificant part of the night once more.

27 notes · View notes

soulsdontbreaktheybeeend · 4 years

Text

Words < Actions | Arthur Fleck x You

I saw this gif set of Arthur (by @liagreycrow) and imagined he would be looking at me like this, figuring out what else he could have said in that moment it’s not so different than in the movie lmao and I came up with this little scenario. I love this side of Arthur so much. SO intimidating it does so many things to me omfg. I’m sure you already know which scene I’m talking about, but here have a look at it again, because ughh. Please go have a look at it before reading this. It helps to get in the right mood. https://liagreycrow.tumblr.com/post/190462679051

NSFW!, fem!reader and a bit angst

Words: 3,906

It was already close to midnight as you opened the door to your apartment. Eager to embrace your love in your arms after another hard and exhausting day at your workplace. Arthur had been on your mind this whole day. Even stronger than every other day. You couldn’t wait for him to pull you close, warming your empty form up from the inside with his love. It was all you needed after returning home. And you really needed it today. You needed him. No food, alcohol nor a hot shower to release your tight muscles could make you feel any better today. Temporarily they would help, yes. But nothing could ever quite make you feel as grounded and as calm as Arthur did. Arthur was all your basic needs.

The frown you were wearing on your face through the whole day was slightly brightening up, when you saw him sitting at the small table in the corner of the living room. He was smoking, wearing his green-blue sweater which you liked so much on him. Every so often you had been telling him how handsome he looked in that sweater which highlighted his mesmerizing eyes even more. Walking over to him, you almost didn’t notice how tense he was. Almost. Usually he would have embraced you right at the door after it clicked open. Albeit it wouldn’t be big news for you if he had had a bad day, too. Still fighting with it, deep in his thoughts. In moments like this, both of you were always trying to make the other one feel better. Even if one didn’t feel like it, because there was so much going on in your minds. Yet the both of you had always been finding a way to slowly pull each other out of your well of sorrow. And if it was only to dive back down the following day, you would repeat climbing the wall of this well together. Always together.

Arthur didn’t appear to stand up, so you decided to walk over to him. From behind him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Your chest pressed against his sharp shoulder blades, hands exploring his chest, rubbing it soothingly. You hummed at the relieved sensation of feeling his body close to yours, as he took another drag of his cigarette. Breathing in his scent, you moved your head to the crook of his neck, kissing the soft skin there. You breathed a whispered “Hi.” while you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Arthur didn’t response. Hmm Arthur didn’t response at all. When he usually could not wait to get his hands on any part of your body, just to make sure your presence is all real, he hadn’t touched you, hell he didn’t even take a glimpse at you since you entered the apartment.

“Arthur?” You let go of your hold on him, gently caressing his shoulder, facing him now. “Hey… what is it?” You offered him to talk to you about what was going on. It was more than clear to you there was something bothering him, a lot. Arthur just sat there and looked down at the floor. You could see his lips turn into a slight smile, which almost made you smile, too, until you noticed it looked nothing like a genuine smile. It was ironic. Almost derided, at the question you had just been asking him. If it wasn’t for the now haunting silence in the apartment, you wouldn’t have heard the whispered “Fuck”, leaving his lips. Ashes fell onto the floor, as he took one last drag of his cigarette.

Still Arthur looked down at the floor, searching there in its worn texture for calm words. He loved you so deeply and with all his being that it hurt him how he felt in this moment. He never wanted to feel any kind of anger towards you. He knew you loved him as much as he did. He had felt it every day, every time your lips touched his own slightly or fiery, the way you looked at him smiling genuinely in relief and anticipation to be held by his warm embrace after a hard and exhausting day at work. He felt it in every moment the both of you shared a laugh. Every morning right before you’d wake up, he’d be up already, just to see your peacefully beautiful face surrounded by the uprising sunlight falling into your shared bedroom. And oh- how he loved those mornings, when you would open your eyes slowly for the first time of the new day, moaning softly. With sleepy eyes would you search for his face, for you longed it to be the first thing to see after your long dark night without it.

Nevertheless, tonight his anxieties got the better of him. He had had yet another awful day at work. All he needed was to come home. You were working late tonight and for Arthur your shared apartment only really felt like home with your presence surrounding it.

______________

He figured you’d be home any minute as he stood by the window in the living room peeking out, hoping to see you walk upon the building complex rather sooner than later. And there you were. Walking down the street with your arms crossed in front of your chest trying to shield yourself from the freezing wind. Finally, Arthur thought, the corner of his mouth slightly turning upwards.

Unfortunately, that only lasted for a few seconds. His eyes widened as he saw a tall man approaching you from behind, grabbing you by your upper arm turning you around to face him. Arthur already saw himself running down the stairs to help you get away from this stranger, as he felt himself freeze in a shocked stiffness. After the tall man had turned your body around to face him, Arthur could see the both of you argue over something he obviously couldn’t hear. You were then shaking your head no as you turned your back on the man as of a sign to end the conversation. Once more his hand reached out to grab your arm, turning you around. Arthur couldn’t believe his eyes. That stranger wasn’t going for another conversation. Instead Arthur saw him grasp for your head, leaning down. Your hands had immediately come up. It looked like you were tugging the stranger even closer to you. Arthur felt a blazing fire rising inside him as he turned his back to the window. Hurt. Anger. His heart felt like it had been stabbed by thousands of sharp and blunt knives altogether.

_______________

You could see him knit his eyebrows, frowning as he pursed his thin lips, preparing himself to speak. He had tried hard to keep his scattered self calm tonight. So hard. So hard, for you. All he wanted, no needed tonight, was to hold you close to him. So close it would wash all the awfulness of the day away. Given the circumstances now, he had trouble to even think about holding you close to him. Was he still allowed to hold you, to touch you, to kiss you? On the contrary he felt the need to show you that only he could make you feel good. Feel so good, like all these times he made you moan so beautifully under his touch. Seeing you with another man like this, so close, so close in a way only he should be allowed to hold you. Fuck he even had his lips on yours. Arthur fought with himself in his mind. He loved you so deeply, he tried to convince himself that there must be an explanation for what he just witnessed.

„Who did you talk to?” Arthur finally looked up at you. He looked so intimidating in this moment. It sent cold shivers down your spine. Never had you seen this look on his face. It made you nervous in no good way. You felt yourself growing more and more insecure by the second you didn’t answer, your throat as a response to that getting dry. The silence in combination with this intense gaze he held on you, haunted you to the bone.

“What do you mean?” Your voice nothing but a whisper.

“Who did you talk to?”

He saw it

You sighed at the heaviness building in your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your organs tightening in your stomach as if they’re about to suffocate. The walls of your shared apartment, usually radiating back the warmth of your shared love, grew colder and colder, dangerously closing in on you. In addition, ironically you did feel a warmth growing inside you, which made you feel even more sick to your stomach, as it was nothing but a discomforting heat which seemed to burn your body from the inside.

But then he saw me punching him, too!

You gained new confidence by your thoughts.

“Oh Arthur, I’m sorry you had to see this. But I’m alright, darling.”

“You’re- you are… alright? Y/N, how can you be standing here, telling me to my face you are alright after what just happened outside?” His voice broke, “Do you not love me anymore?”

“What?! Baby, what are you talking about- of course I love you! Y’know I do. Why would you even-”

Silence.

Slowly it came to your mind.

“Wait… you saw me slapping his face, right?! Arthur? Arthur, look at me, please.” You cupped his cheeks, begging him to look you in the eyes.

“Did you see me punching him in the face?”

He shook his head as he looked down at the floor, “No. I turned away after I saw him kiss you.” Looking up, the intimidating gaze back in his eyes, “Who was he, Y/N?”

___________ Behind Arthurs back, for him not to see anymore, after the man had forcingly smashed his lips against yours, you finally succeeded to free yourself from his hold on you. You slapped the flat back of your hand right across the man’s face. Hard. The two rings on your fingers, helping with the intensity of the impact, leaving two visible red scratches on his cheek. While your intruding ex-boyfriend grunted and lifted his hands to cup his face, you rescued yourself into the safe foyer of the apartment building.

___________

Now you were the one looking at the floor, not able to withstand the burning look he held on you. You made your way over to him. As soon as you stood right in front of him, you reached out an arm. You grabbed Arthurs hand, signaling him to stand up. Come with me, love. Please. You sighed, sitting both of you down onto the couch. You took his hands into yours, placing a warm kiss on his knuckles before you laid them down on your lap, rubbing them gently.

“It was Eric.” You admitted.

“He seems to be back in Gotham. I was waiting at the subway station when I noticed him. Now I could tell he would’ve grabbed me then and there if it wasn’t for the other thirty people waiting there as well. I saw him getting into the same train, but he chose a different cabin. I hadn’t seen him in a long time now, so I stopped myself from interpreting too much into it. Now I wish I would’ve just run home.”

“What did he want?” “He… he said he missed me, I’d still be his and wants to get back together.” You said carelessly, putting more meaning into your following words. “But I- I don’t care about that. I don’t even wanna talk about it, Arthur. All I care about is us, is you. And I need you to believe me, that I didn’t want any of this.” Words left your mouth, but you were speaking to him with your whole body. Moving and shifting your torso along the emotions you felt running through your veins. Hands caressing and squeezing his, as a pleading for him to listen to you, to hear the deep love that lurked behind them. Your head wandered all over him, from his hands that you held in yours, to his face and eyes where you searched so desperately for understanding. Arthur’s intimidating look still lingered on his face, staring right into the depth of your soul through your eyes, before he let his gaze fall onto your intertwined hands, then slipping off to a point at the couch, to where he could process the words you just spoke.

You immediately wanted him to look at you again, though you choked under his particular gaze, but you couldn’t take it. You needed him to look at you.

“I didn’t want to see him again; I told you how things have been and ended with him. I didn’t want him to approach me like that. Fuck, above all, I didn’t want him to get his lips on mine ever again, I-“ Your voice broke, as you felt your eyes getting wet. You were searching for words to make him understand how much this situation hadn’t been in your interest. Only three did you find. I love you. I love you. I love you. So you said them out loud. “All this incident has shown me is… I love you, Arthur. So much. I wouldn’t even know how to start to describe how much I do. I don’t- I don’t think there are any words that could. I want to tell you, so bad, but… but I- ” You fought hopelessly with yourself.

“Show me.” His appeal almost overheard by your scattered self.

“What?” You breathed out.

“If you can’t tell, then show me, Y/N.”

You hadn’t noticed you were holding in a breath until you almost choked on his words, soaking in air hastily. With a gaze of disbelief, you studied his face for a sign you could make sure you had heard his words correctly. You had. You had found a sign, right there in his pleading darkened green eyes. Show me. Please. I need you to show me.

Not wasting a second, you cupped his cheeks. His skin felt so soothingly warm against your fragile, still slightly shaking and cold hands. Oh, they were always cold, and he’d always loved to warm them up for you with the heat of his own. You pressed your lips on his ever so slowly. So slowly you lost yourself in the sensation of the act right at the first touch. It’s you. It’ll always be only you. His lips on yours felt like a healing, cleansing off the disgust you had to experience on them earlier. Even though you hadn’t had a say in the situation earlier outside on the streets, you had felt guilt. Guilty of the cruel fact, someone else than Arthur had touched you in such an intimate way. With Arthur deepening the kiss you both moaned softly into, you could feel it all wash away. Taking Arthurs hand in yours, you broke the kiss, whispering, “I want to show you.”

With your fingers intertwined in his, you lead him to your shared bedroom. You stopped in front of the bed turning to face him. You pulled him in closer for another flaming kiss. Your hands slid over his torso all the way up to his hair. Firmly running your fingers through his thick brown locks, you walked him against the foot end of the bed, signaling him to let himself go.

Following him down onto the soft duvet covers you let your body lay down gently onto his, shoving your knee between the space of his legs, all the way up to meet his crotch. You could feel him harden just at that contact. Arthur always could’ve been in the saddest mood, the most devastating emotional state, but never did his body and mind have the slightest chance to resist your touch, to react to it in every way. Once again you draw him into a passionate slow kiss, which had Arthur groaning deeply. While you did so, you were slowly running a hand from his lower abdomen up to his neck in determination to let him feel your need and love for him. You wanted him to feel you. You wanted him to feel the never-ending, everyday-growing love you shared for him, on every inch of him. On every inch of his skin, until it would seep through his soft flesh into his very soul, so that there would be no way for it to ever leave him. “I want to feel you. All of you.” You whispered as you broke the kiss, one hand grabbing a fistful of his thick locks, longingly looking into his eyes. The heat radiating from your eyes, mirrored right back at you from his darkened green ones. Arthur understood your silent plea.

The moment your bare breasts came to touch with his bony chest made both of you gasp in a growing appetite for the tender touches of one another. Tonight you couldn’t quite tell him how deep and unconditional your love for him was, overwhelmed with many emotions mixed together, caused by this gloomy situation. But oh- did you show him. You rolled yourself up on Arthurs naked form as you started to caress every inch of his body. You could feel your love for him radiating from every single part of your body that touched Arthurs, like invisible flashes shooting their power right into every part of his body that touched yours. Your body slowly sliding down on his, not missing one spot on his torso to kiss, your hands gently supporting the affectionateness. Arthurs hand coming up to your hair, you felt his cock twitch against lower belly. Your body instantly reacting to it, you could feel yourself grow wet. The sensation of his fingertips fondling your scalp made you melt into his touch, your body building goosebumps. His grip on you encouraged you to continue your now open-mouthed kisses downwards. Reaching his waist, you placed kisses to his hip bone as your hand gently began to stroke his length, lowering yourself so your body filled the space between his legs.

After you took a moment to gaze up at him, you could tell he was feeling all the love you tried to burn into him. Lowering your head, you began to kiss his hardened cock from the very bottom all the way up to the tip. Arthur lost his grip on your hair caused by his pleasure, running it through his own disheveled hair, giving him the opportunity to have a clear view at your work. Kissing your way back down reaching the bottom, you replaced your lips on his soft skin there with your tongue. Ever so slowly licking his length bottom-up, lingering on the tip, swirling your tongue around it. Arthur moaned in pleasure as you took the tip in, slightly sucking, pressing your tongue against it, just to let go and repeat your passionate actions. As you licked your way back up to the tip, now leaking with pre-cum, you took more and more of him in, making your clit throb. You found your rhythm, as one of your hands complemented the movements of your mouth on him, stroking up and down his length so slowly. Both of Arthurs hands came to grasp at your hair, keeping you in place.

You could feel him growing close as his breathing increased. Looking up at him you were stopping yourself and you were stopping him from his release. Yes, you wanted to make him feel so good. But not yet and not like this. Gratitude, trust and dedication you had seen in his eyes. Silently telling you- You’re showing me. I can see. I feel you showing me.

But you wanted to show him even more. You wanted him to feel all of you. Caressing his torso again, you came up slowly to pull him into a tempting kiss, your lips swollen and warm from your work on his cock. While you deepened the kiss, your tongues danced a slow waltz, you lifted your body, placing each of your legs next to his waist. Reaching down with one hand pumping him up and down a few times. You placed him at your entrance, rubbing him soothingly against your wet folds to let him feel this was all for him. As you lowered your body onto him, you could feel your eyes flutter back into your head at the slightest contact of his tip slipping in. “Y/N…” Your name escaped Arthurs lips as the same thrilling streamed through his body. Savoring every inch ever so slowly, every second of the pleasure of him filling you up so good. You lowered yourself, leaning in for yet another passionate kiss, your tongue lovingly playing with his. Both of you moaned in audible pleasure. Your hands came down to his chest, lingering there for support as Arthur’s hold on your thighs grew stronger. The slowness of your movements up and down his length, made it almost too pleasurable for the both of you. Arthur and you too, found it more and more difficult to continue holding your gazes on one another. Your eyes kept closing shut as both of you came closer to your high, every breath echoing a pant.

“You do love me?” Arthur murmured. The way he pronounced it; you could hear he’d been almost convinced of it yet. Convinced by your actions, by every touch, every kiss and every look into his eyes, your adoration for him you tried so hard to show to him tonight. “More than…” Your moans grew louder, “I’ll ever be able to show you, darling.” Arthur gazed up at you, not able to speak up again, but you could read it from his darkened eyes. You could tell he believed you. You’d made him believe you and you had shown him in the most delicate way. Arthur understood and he wanted to show you that. He took over your rhythm still as slow as you had been working on him, moving his hips up and down, his length filling you up so good with each thrust. One of his hands made its way from your thigh down between your legs. His fingers pressing against your lower belly, while his thumb began to rub circles on your clit. Immediately you felt your stomach tighten. His touch on your bundle of nerves pushing you so close to reach your orgasm. “Arthur…” you panted, “Oh- oh god… fuck…yes…” Arthurs thrusts became slightly faster, sloppy even as he too was on the top of his high, moving his thumb faster, as you couldn’t hold back and begged him, “Please… please don’t stop-“ Your voice broke at the end of your plea in full extasy as both of you already reached your climax. You were a panting mess, your body collapsing onto his, burying your hands in his hair. You could feel Arthurs heavy breath against your ear, wrapping his arms around you, soothingly rubbing your back.

Then he whispered, “Thank you”, his voice raspy and low, “Thank you for showing me. Thank you for loving me, Y/N.” Your grip in his hair tightened at his words, kissing his neck then searching for his eyes.

A small grin grew on your mouth as you answered him. “You get what you deserve.”

108 notes · View notes

seehowsupplethespineis · 4 years

Text

Lift Home

(Here we have my first Good Omens fanfiction! Well, the first Good Omens fanfiction I’m posting; I’ve got plenty of WIPs for this fandom that I will one day share with the world. I wanted to cover all the things I’ve been wanting to write for this fandom in this one piece so expect lots of pining, bickering, and a car chase.)

(Warnings: Nazis, a tiny bit of blood, explosion, guns, accidental murder (of Nazis))

(Note: This story takes place directly after the scene at the bombed church, if that isn’t immediately made clear enough.)

The rubble of the razed church lay piled up around the angel, illuminated by fires that had sprung up from the ruins. The flickering flames cast haunting shadows over jagged edges of stone. An air raid siren in the distance, along with the far off screams of people nearby, added an ominous layer to the already depressing scene.

Aziraphale honestly couldn’t care less. He was a little too preoccupied with the demon sauntering off into the gathering darkness, the very demon who had, just moments ago, rescued him and his precious books in an undeniably selfless and courageous act of pure kindness. It was a hard concept to process in itself without the odd feeling of warmth and giddiness spreading from his chest to the hand holding his precious cargo. Adding that to the jolt of panic these sudden emotions brought, Aziraphale could hardly breathe, let alone move.

“Hurry it up, angel!” Crowley’s lazy voice made something twist in Aziraphale’s gut, “Don’t know how many Nazis might be lurking around! Should probably get a move on!”

Aziraphale took a few moments to find his voice, “R-Right! I’m...right behind you!”

Crowley spun back around and strolled unhurriedly yet with a few cautious glances into the darkness to the car he’d parked somewhere in the distance. Aziraphale took one step after him, then two. When he didn’t immediately combust in a shower of sparks, the angel found enough confidence to jog after the demon, clutching his books protectively to his chest and slipping and sliding over bits of rock as he went.

Being the unusually considerate demon he was, Crowley paused to allow Aziraphale to catch up to him. Aziraphale flashed the demon a nervous smile as he neared and averted his gaze for the remainder of the walk. He found himself in an odd state of being where he deeply wished he were alone in his bookshop while also wanting to never leave Crowley’s side. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way, though this time he had to reckon with the strange flips his stomach was doing.

Aziraphale wasn’t an idiot. He was an angel, and angels knew a thing or two about love, or at least were very good at detecting it. Right now, Aziraphale could feel it in himself, and the feeling was directed at Crowley. The feeling was strong, too strong, so strong that the angel tried to suppress it for fear it would come off of him in waves that would wash over Crowley and give him away. But Crowley just kept walking, oblivious, hands tucked leisurely in his pockets.

The angel and the demon eventually stepped over the last of the rubble and crossed the road to reach the car parked on the other side. It was a black car, sleek and well-looked after. Aziraphale wasn’t much of an expert on vehicles not involving horses, but it seemed of a good design and make.

He was about to say as much to Crowley in an effort to relieve the oppressive silence between them, when a gunshot went off nearby. Aziraphale winced as something whistled past the demon and him. He barely had time to realize that someone was shooting at them before Crowley was dragging him roughly by the elbow.

“Blasted Nazis!” Crowley hissed through clenched teeth. He yanked Aziraphale round to the front of the car, “Get in, angel!”

Aziraphale ducked down and hurried around the car to the passenger side while Crowley fumbled to open the driver’s side door. Another gunshot went off, closer this time. Aziraphale threw open the car door and dove inside, his bag of books still clutched firmly to himself. The angel noted as Crowley clambered in that the demon’s hat was missing from his head.

“Bloody close.” The demon growled as the car sprang to life beneath them.

Aziraphale twisted in his seat to see a car speeding up behind them, “I thought the Nazis I met in the church were the only ones here!”

“They were,” The car engine roared, “But some tailed me as I came here. Been keeping track of my movements for a while.”

“Why?” A bullet cracked against the glass windows of the car. Crowley muttered a curse.

“I’m kind of a big deal at the moment. Hang on!”

“Hang on to wha-?” The car surged beneath them and took off at a speed Aziraphale had never before experienced. An involuntary yelp escaped him as the vehicle accelerated, fast leaving the car full of Nazis behind. Aziraphale fumbled for something to hold onto and eventually just latched onto his seat.

“Crowley!” The angel didn’t mean for his voice to sound so shrill.

Crowley glanced at him, “Oh, right! Never been in the Bentley before, have you?”

“S-Slow down- Watch the road!”

“We’re fleeing from Nazis, angel! Not exactly a good time to take it easy!”

“You’re going to get us killed!”

“Those Nazis are going to kill us if we don’t keep moving!”

Crowley turned his head to look through the back window, “Speak of the devils.”

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut as the Bentley took a left turn at a velocity that defied whatever scientific laws God had placed on the Earth. He tipped dangerously in his seat and briefly made contact with Crowley’s tensed shoulder before snapping back to his seat once the car continued straight. More bullets rained on the car, burying themselves in glass and metal.

“Can’t concentrate enough while driving like this!” Crowley made a wild gesture with his left hand, “Do something, angel!”

“Like what?” Aziraphale shrieked as a bullet zipped past his face and narrowly missed Crowley’s hand. It transfixed itself in the front windshield.

“Anything!” Crowley shouted, “Just make them stop shooting holes in my car before they shoot holes in us!”

Aziraphale’s mind raced through all the miracles he could use. Make the car invulnerable? Turn their guns into toys? Miracle a flock of birds to blind them?

Another bullet whizzed through the now shattered back window. It moved too fast for Aziraphale to see but he heard the cry of pain Crowley gave a mere half second before the bullet crashed through the front window. The cry sent a jolt of something through Aziraphale and before he knew what he was doing he had raised his fingers and snapped.

The Nazi car exploded in a cloud of flame. The metal frame of the vehicle shot up into the air like a phoenix rising from the ashes only to crash back down to the ground on its head. The melting tires pointed upward to Heaven as a last means of salvation, but of course an agent of Heaven had caused it.

Crowley lowered the hand he’d pressed to the gash in his cheek to stare open-mouthed at the destruction behind them, the car slowing to a halt. Aziraphale stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the orange light of the flames that danced around the inside of the Bentley.

The stunned silence went on impossibly longer until Crowley jerked back to face Aziraphale, looking from him to the fiery wreck and back again, “I...You... I didn’t...Uh...Good job.”

The angel refused to meet his gaze, “I didn’t mean to go that far. But you startled me when you...and...well...it’s done now.”

Crowley stared at him, the gaze made no less intense by his dark glasses. Aziraphale would have turned away, but the blood seeping from the wound on the demon’s cheek held his attention.

“Are you alright?” When Crowley seemed confused, Aziraphale gestured to his face.

“What? Oh, right. Yeah, I’m fine.” He smeared a hand over the injury and it healed up instantly, “Just a scratch.”

“Ah. Thank goodness for that.”

“Yeah…” Crowley didn’t take his eyes from the angel, “Thank goodness.”

Aziraphale glanced out the window and took a deep breath, “Well, we’d best be off, then. It’s getting late.”

Crowley reluctantly looked away from Aziraphale to glance at the sky, “Yeah…”

After miracling the car back to it’s original intact condition, Crowley sped away from the flaming wreck, though thankfully remained slow enough not to make Aziraphale fear for their corporations. More sirens blared in the distance, likely from fire trucks coming to put out the numerous fires the two entities had caused. It was best they make themselves scarce.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the Bentley as Crowley drove to Aziraphale’s bookshop. The demon was the first to break it, “So...tonight’s just been a night for blowing up Nazis, hasn’t it?”

Aziraphale sighed, “I didn’t mean to blow them up, not that I’m…”

Crowley turned to face him, “Not that you’re what?”

The angel gestured for him to keep his eyes on the road before responding, “Not that I’m upset about the whole matter. I’m sure Heaven won’t be upset with me for relieving the world of a few Nazis, especially in self defense.”

The barest smirk twitched across Crowley’s lips but he didn’t say anything.

Aziraphale looked at him. The demon’s glasses hid his eyes from view, and the angel wanted nothing more than to remove them to see the beautiful golden eyes beneath. Such a thought should have caused him to go up in smoke just as the Nazi car had done, but miraculously- er, luckily it didn’t.

“Are you sure no one else is following us?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley took a right turn that was still a little fast for Aziraphale’s liking but not too much as to worry him, “Pretty sure. I only counted one car following me when I drove here.”

That statement made another question spring up in the angel’s mind, “How did you know I was in the church?”

The demon shrugged, though Aziraphale noted the action was a little forced, “Like I said, pretty popular at the moment. Word reached me about some Nazis planning to double cross an old bookseller and I figured it was you.”

Aziraphale glanced at his bag and allowed himself to relax his hold on it. He nodded to Crowley, “I know I already expressed my thanks, but-”

“Don’t mention it, really.” Crowley waved the gratitude aside, “I should thank you for taking care of those other Nazis.”

“It was my pleasure.” Aziraphale gave a small smile.

Crowley simply nodded and the drive continued in a comfortable silence.

Aziraphale was far more reluctant than he should have been to bid good night to Crowley. The demon stopped the car right at his bookshop entrance. The sight of the darkened shelves sent a wave of loneliness through the angel. The sudden urge to invite Crowley inside seized hold of him and he spun to face the demon.

Crowley’s hair glowed red in the light of the streetlamps. One arm was thrown casually over the steering wheel and the other rested on his seat so he could face Aziraphale. His eyebrows raised as he sensed the question forming on the angel’s lips, his lips parting slightly in surprise and some emotion Aziraphale couldn’t read.

The angel instantly panicked and choked on his words, “Thank you for taking me home!”

Crowley sat still as stone for a few seconds before he gave his head an almost imperceptible shake and averted his gaze, “Yeah, yeah, no problem.”

Fumbling with the door, Aziraphale pushed it open and stepped out into the chill night. He placed his hat on his head and held his bag in a two-handed grip. Without a backward glance, he marched up to his bookshop, threw the door open, and slammed it behind him. After a couple of seconds, the Bentley’s engine roared and quickly faded out of earshot.

The bookshop felt dark and empty despite the mass of his beloved books surrounding the angel. Aziraphale leaned against the door, not wishing to trek any further into this lonely establishment. But trek he did, with a thud in his step and an ache in his heart.

I’m an angel. He’s a demon. We’re hereditary enemies. Get that through your head, you stupid principality!

Aziraphale set his bag down and collapsed into an armchair, throwing his hat haphazardly into the gloom.

He had made the right decision, at least that’s what he continued to tell himself in order to stifle the intense yearning he felt. If he had let Crowley into his shop, Aziraphale was sure he couldn’t have endured it. He loved Crowley. That fact wasn’t something he could ignore, however much he wanted to. It was something he needed to repress until it was rendered inert. That wasn’t how emotions worked, the angel knew, but he had no other choice. It was simply impossible for Crowley and he to be anything other than what they were so there was no point in loving him at all. Their relationship at the moment was already a forbidden one without adding love into the mix.

What kind of an angel am I? Aziraphale was forced to conclude he was a lousy one. With a sigh that came from nearly 6,000 years worth of wariness and one night of harrowing action and new discoveries, the angel popped open the first bottle he saw and poured himself a glass.

#Good Omens #Aziraphale #Crowley #Ineffable Husbands #Writing Entity #TW Nazis #TW Blood #TW Murder #TW Guns

39 notes · View notes

bluewindfall · 4 years

Note

28 rin/shiemi; 43 izumo

Haha, thank you for the ask!!! I wrote the two prompts separately, so Izumo’s is underneath. :)

The prompt is: something about [them] for Rin/Shiemi. This is set after chapter 114 in the manga.

The garden is as massive as it is indescribably beautiful. She’s been here for nearly a week, and there is still so much of it to see.

“Lady Shiemi,” one of the attendants ducks under a stray branch. “We’d best be returning soon.”

“Ah, okay,” Shiemi nods. “Just one minute.” She’s stopped trying to ask for their names, but they're not as unwelcoming as they’d felt in the beginning.

She steps around a reaching bush to get a closer look at a flowerbed. As she kneels, the white buds unfurl to greet her with their delicate gold centers. As endearing as their affection is, she wishes they wouldn’t strain themselves.

Her fingers brush past their waxy leaves to trace along a fallen branch. She has yet to see any of this garden ailing, so why are these ones struggling?

There’s something off.

It’s not a branch, but a harsh, rusting iron shaft.

“Oh, um,” she turns back, “why is this here?”

The attendants shuffle closer in whispers of rustling cloth. “Before Shemihaza’s crystallization was housed here, this was the entrance to the garden.” Two of the attendants crowd over, reaching to examine the long shaft of metal. “This is a remnant of the demon-warding gate.”

So that’s why.

The rust isn’t harmful, but the metal’s warding properties have blocked Shemihaza’s influence. This shrub isn’t suited for this environment, and without the crystals, it might not survive long here.

It’s trying so hard though. She can tell. It’s trying, very very hard.

Shiemi places a hand on the prickly surface of the metal, and holds back a smile.

There was a gate in her garden too, wasn’t there?

It had always creaked horribly whenever it was moved, but Shiemi never minded. It was nice to have a warning before anyone came in. More often than not, she’d hide away from her mother’s visitors and wait until they left before coming back out.

Only, one day, that gate came crashing down, louder than ever, and Rin was there telling her to stand, to do what she really wanted to do.

She’d been swept up in that whirlwind of confidence he was, drifting far, far away on that rising draft like a dandelion seed.

The world outside was huge. It was frightening and painfully uncomfortable. There were countless times when she thought about hiding away, back into her garden.

The world outside her garden is unkind, and sometimes she has no idea how to live out there.

And yet, something about Rin has always given her courage. In the beginning, it was because he’d looked strong and so unbelievably confident. Only as time went on, did she finally realize that his confidence was incomplete.

That confidence is rushed and it’s contagious. She doesn't know how she saw Rin here or if that was a hallucination, but she knows he’s still fighting.

She wants to help.

This time, she’s going to help.

“Let’s leave it alone,” Shiemi decides.

As she draws her hands away, the mottled discoloration of rust clings to her fingers.

“Are you certain, Lady Shiemi? If it is unable to draw from Shemiha—”

“It’ll be okay.”

This place is not where either of them are meant to be, but it’s where they are, regardless.

If they can’t leave this place, then their only choice is to sprout, grow roots, and thrive here. One day, they’ll stand tall. They’ll stand so tall, they will tower over everything else, and no one will dare to deny them anymore.

Someday, when this is all over, she’ll return with her head held high. Until then, she has every intention of using this position to her advantage.

This is her duty, as it is her birthright.

She will not fear it.

Shiemi smiles as she stands. “It’ll be okay on its own.”

She will not fear and she will not falter.

That is her promise.

For Izumo, the prompt is: undone. This is set after chapter 64.

The night after they leave Inari, she can’t sleep.

She sits at the foot of her bed turning the slim silver key over in her hands, overwhelmed by a strange sense of quiet.

The doubts she held onto for so long are ashes in the wind, and for the first time, there is nothing holding her down anymore.

Whatever happens from here, she’ll be okay with it.

Everything is okay...and then it’s not.

It happens a couple days later when she goes to the supermarket. She’s reaching up for a package in the freezer, and a little girl skips past her.

Izumo lunges before she even realizes what she’s doing. “Wait.” She drops the package, snagging the little girl by her elbow. “Wait a second,” she adds, pitching her tone softer when the little girl scrunches her eyebrows in dismay.

Izumo kneels slowly. “Your shoelace is undone,” she explains, tying a neat bow. She tugs it once to check that it’s taut. “There,” she says, straightening the bow a little, “you’re good to go now.”

The little girl gives her a cautious smile before waddling off. Izumo stoops to pick up the package she dropped just in time to see the little girl give her a small wave.

She’s really cute, with chubby cheeks and short dark hair.

For one second everything is still okay, and then, it’s not.

...Who are you?

Izumo leaves the supermarket in a daze, with a million thoughts at war with each other in her head.

It’s not fair, but it’s better this way.

Tsukumo is happy.

For Izumo, that’s everything, and it’s been more than enough.

It’s supposed to be enough.

It’s not enough.

The more she tries to convince herself, the more her resolve disperses, like smoke rising in the air.

It’s not enough, but it’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late because Tsukumo is already happy. She has a mother and she has a father and she has someone to run to when she’s bored, she has someone to teach her kanji she can’t read, she has someone to tell her stories before she goes to sleep, she has someone to make sure she dresses properly for the weather, she has someone to tie her shoes when the laces come undone—

She doesn’t need Izumo anymore.

She doesn’t need Izumo, and it’s not like Izumo even has the right to do those things for her anymore.

Tsukumo is happy, and that’s enough.

But enough suddenly doesn’t cut it anymore.

The next day she goes after class and corners Takara even though she doesn’t have the slightest idea what she wants to ask for. She stands there with her fists clenched at her sides, grinding her teeth in frustration, when he hands over a business card and leaves without another word.

A business card.

Tsukumo used to collect these, didn’t she?

She dials the number on her phone, and hovers pathetically over the call button.

It’s late.

She should try tomorrow. If she calls this late, she’ll come off as impolite. She needs to think about what to say. She needs to make a good first impression. She needs to be careful. She needs to be—

She hits the call icon.

Her heart is beating so loudly she can barely hear the ringing. It feels like an eternity has passed before there’s a soft click and a man’s voice on the other end answers, “You’ve reached the Takara residence. What can I do for you?”

Izumo swallows dryly. “H-hi,” she stammers, clutching her phone in a death grip. “My name is Kamiki Izumo. I...I want to know if I can speak to Tsuku— Tsukiko,” she blurts. “I’m her older sister.”

“Pardon me,” the man says, “do you mind repeating your name once more?”

“Kamiki Izumo.”

“One moment.”

There’s a long pause, then an odd sound of fumbling before a woman responds, slightly out of breath. “I am Tsukiko’s adoptive mother, Takara Eri. I must admit, I wasn't aware Tsukiko had any siblings, but it’s...it’s very good to hear from you, Kamiki-san.” She pauses. “Would you like to set up a date to meet with me to discuss this in person?”

“Yes,” Izumo says immediately. “Please.”

Takara Eri lists off a couple days next week. Izumo agrees to the earliest time possible, scribbling down the date on a scrap of paper.

“Then, I look forward to meeting you in person. Take care, Kamiki-san.”

“Thank you.”

The call ends.

Izumo sinks to her knees, clutching the phone with both hands.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

Tsukumo doesn’t need her, and that’s fine.

It’s too late for them to return to what they were before, but she doesn’t want them to be nothing at all. It’s not right for her to end it like this.

She wants to let Tsukumo decide.

No matter what that decision is, Izumo knows she’ll be okay with it.

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #ask #ask game #bluewindfall writes stuff #long post

11 notes · View notes

juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years

Text

Dream Ashes (Yoongi x Reader)

Genre: Smut, Angst, FwB AU, HYYH AU

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: Allusions to self-harm, smoking, drinking and domestic abuse, toxic relationships, unrequited love, Top!/Dom!Yoongi, unprotected sex (ALWAYS do it safely, lads and lasses), (semi-)public sex (if sex on a rooftop counts), swearing/cussing

Summary: Not every night under each roof is pleasant, filled with arguments and the broken dreams of aspiring artists held back by parents either having no faith in their child’s talent or, if they acknowledge it at all, in a future pursuing a dream. A mixture of the two continues to kill the aspirations of the black sheep of the Min family, a delinquent deemed a pyromaniac by the ignorant eyes that solely know how to shallowly judge.

But there is a guardian angel with love who bears his burden gladly on lonely nights.

Even if it comes at the cost of her own heart.

Masterlist

Not every night under each roof is pleasant, filled with arguments and the broken dreams of aspiring artists held back by parents either having no faith in their child’s talent or, if they acknowledge it at all, in a future pursuing a dream. A mixture of the two continues to kill the aspirations of the black sheep of the Min family, a delinquent deemed a pyromaniac by the ignorant eyes that solely know how to shallowly judge. However, the open-minded individuals who can see beneath the tough exterior will be met by a musical genius who is forced time and again to give up the sole reason to live.

Music.

The piano.

‘I don’t have a dream. Besides, what’s the point in having one?’ Those words have become a steady statement to make whenever the conversation turns to what can be done after leaving behind six good friends and dropping out of high school. Whether any help is needed, in any regard, because a girl ran away from home herself is more than knowledgeable in how hard it can be to survive without anything to fall back on.

Though eventually a safe haven was offered freely by the actual leader of our little band of troublemakers guarded by a mistress of lies, another runaway living in a train yard outside of town.

Withal, tonight a new worrying addition is spoken after a habitual check-up text sent from Joon’s refurbished container after patching up Taehyung’s latest wounds inflicted by a raging drunk of a worthless father. The boy with the curious square smile stubbornly continues to hide the true cause of the physical and mental pain despite his fellow graffiti artist having hinted multiple times at wanting him to open up about the issue. Notwithstanding, it would seem the real cause of the harm will only be entrusted to the boys' confidante, the guardian angel helping tattooed aqua locks keep the rabble in line.

For as far as that is possible.

‘They take everything from the inside and throw it away.’

‘Who is they?’ Throat constricted by concern at this new detail, fingers stop combing through caramel locks finally fallen asleep after grunting through the medicinal care while precariously avoiding making eye contact with Monie.

‘Everybody.’

‘I don’t, I would never. Neither would Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon and Seokjin.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘No, it’s not!’ No response, the last text remaining to be noted as read. ‘Yoongi?

‘Yoongi, answer me! You’re not gonna do anything stupid, you hear me?

‘Yoongi, please!’

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

‘Oh God.’ The exclamation comes out on a short breath, panic rapidly overtaking as thoughts refer to the past.

‘What?’ Namjoon looks up from designing a new piece of art to place somewhere on a bare city wall, an eyebrow curiously cocked.

‘I- I need to go.’ Gently, Tae is laid down on the mattress. Futilely, the unconscious boy tries to wrap arms around the upper legs to pin them where they are before moving away. They have to, because time has become precariously precious again. Hence, all that the sleeper gets is a quick platonic peck on the forehead. ‘Right now.’

‘What’s going on?’ The leader notices the distress, turning halfway on the worn seat and about to get up.

‘It’s Yoongi. He’s not responding anymore and I think I know why.’

Shredded paper, beautiful notes turned awry thanks to disregard by the public, compositions torn apart to be hauled through a shredder or be burned in the next fire leading to an arrest.

Scarlet.

Glistening metal.

More silver lines added to the ever-expanding canvas on pale thin limbs.

‘Honestly, why doesn’t he just come here? We’ve both said multiple times he should.’ Honey digits remove the simple beanie to run through blue short strands, defeated in the wager as to why the pianist remains on the flight instead of retreating to the home we have created.

Regardless of the severity weighing heavily on shoulders moving towards the door, a sympathetic smile can be managed to put Joon at least somewhat at ease. One person carrying the burden of Time is more than enough and if someone should be to blame for being too late, it should be the guardian angel. ‘Because he can’t see the point, the good it’ll do him. He doesn’t know he has a home.’

It should be me.

‘He’d rather see his dream burn than move in with us.’ A mutual deep sigh erases the only sign of comfort that can be given at the moment as a hand reaches towards the latch. ‘One of these days I’ll drag him here myself and just lock him in. It’ll be full house, but I’m sure we could figure something out.’

‘Good luck with that, Monie. I’d help, but I value my life. He’s a tiger. One that’s hopefully unharmed by the time I reach him.’ Because, once more, it are solely the black wings engraved into the back which know the truth while the rising bird is kept in the dark regardless of begging in silence for the last sliver of complete trust even telling of hardships they do not know about. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Gritting gravel surrounding neglected railways beneath open twilight gradually transforms into asphalt broken up by holes in the districts ruled by crime and smooth steady ways in good neighbourhoods forming the residence area of families of which the children will either become something akin to the grandness of a doctor or a nine-to-five, if not worse, office worker. And it is here the phone put into the pocket of the denim jacket buzzes, the screen lighting up thanks to a new message that is a blessing and a curse at the same time. ‘Not home. Ran away. Warehouse. Roof.’

‘When did you run?’ The answer might seem fairly obvious were it not for the memory of the first time created melodies were destroyed by the paper shredder and parents furiously yelled at the aspiring producer to actually go back to school and get a proper education.

A good life.

Meant for someone else.

Not for an artist.

These same bordeaux Puma sneakers stormed through the front door and up the stairs after mister Min opened up, about to ask who in their right mind came calling around midnight. Absolutely not giving a damn about the consequences and solely focused on reaching a familiar door hiding ignored hardship.

Truth be told, none of us ever has.

Because we live.

Young, wild and free.

Or so we will, after all of us have escaped the judgmental cage created by a society looking down on creative souls trying to make a change. To leave a worthy legacy meant for generations to look back on and learn from.

After feathers break free from the egg.

But more than a single care was given upon warily approaching the figure in the secret studio least of all serving its original purpose of a bedroom, crawled away from the door to hide in the corner while clutching anxiously at freshly bleeding cuts. The knife was put aside, undeniably used and cruelly lying on the ground beside us.

Instead of directly speaking, we merely sat across from each other in a heavy hush wherein confidence was regained by calmly waiting for dark eyes to make contact. Which they eventually did, trembling bloody palms removing the white headphones given as a collective birthday present together with Joon and Hobi. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’ Regardless of knowing what was meant, locks nevertheless tilted to the side in feigned wonder because any direct reference to the difficult situation would lock the oppressed musician up immediately.

And invite the cruel blade upon leaving.

‘For being so fucking worthless. For making you come all the way here, just to see this good-for-nothing criminal.’ Unjust cracks appeared evident in the barely composed raspy voice of salt-streaked tears. Crimson fingertips plucked at baggy clothes concealing the frame that had become ghastly thinner due to the stress placed upon young shoulders forced to see dreams burn over and over again.

As always, helpless heavy-weighing playfulness was resorted to in the quiet hope of brightening the mood enough to break through the impenetrable walls which are always built when Yoongi is put down. ‘Shut up.’

Colourless irises, the passion sucked out of them until all they knew was how to cry, looked up in a sharp sneer. Or so it wanted to be, but could not due to an inner voice constraining the harshest negativity which turned the expression grave rather than judgemental. ‘It’s true, Y/N. You know it is.’

‘No, it’s not.’

A shift of subject made it more than clear the current topic did no longer serve any purpose, completely disregarding the smeared headphones and fresh cuts. Curiously, it changed to inquire about the well-being of the equally, albeit not to the same degrees, abused boy with whom often arguments were started merely because of being followed. Followed by the one who looked up to him, the rebel who will one day fully make the right decision and flee from beneath this harming roof permanently. ‘How’s Tae?’

A resigned sigh gave into the shift reluctantly, a tiny sliver of gladness spreading warmth throughout the limbs grown cold at the miserable sight and calming a rapidly beating heart unable to not worry about the wounds. ‘Bruised ribs, split lip, a cut on his cheek and an ugly bruise beneath the left eye.’

‘Please tell me he’s crashing at Namjoon’s.’

‘He is, as always. Mended for as far as possible and asleep.’

‘Good.’ Absently, as if drifting off into the forcefully created crumbled world once more, Yoongi nodded while repeating the confirmation under sharp breath. ‘That’s good.’

‘You, on the other hand, aren’t doing so great.’ It could not be helped, the dark carmine droplets staining ashen sweatpants creating hideous murky brown stains could not be ignored. Ugly yet alluring ghosts tempting the eye into being looked at. ‘You could have come to the train yard.’

The subtle suggestion resulted in the habitual denial of all help, any former softness sharpened like a dagger and flowing from a snarling tongue. ‘I’m fine. Just go.’

‘Where’s the first-aid kit?’ It had always been part of the dynamic, ignoring what the composer said in favour of a better outcome or serve as the company that was wanted but the wish of had never been explicitly stated. Withal, the guardian angel would triumph once more due to the trump card of iron determination, speaking in a tone that would not let anything of the pain due to the confrontation with self-destruction filter through.

‘Go.’ Sullenness preceded, as per habit, the fierceness of the tiger beneath the skin. Stained fingers moulded into fists gripping at oversized clothes, trembling with rage but trying incredibly hard to contain it to not do something to regret in the second after rashness.

‘Where?’ The characteristic raised sarcastic eyebrow was not appreciated, still only so on very few occasions nowadays.

‘Just fucking go!’

The lashing out would have chased away any of the other guys, but not the girl merely scoffing at the show both minds knew was nothing except fakery. ‘Have it your way. I’ll look for it myself.’

As expected, it was stored away in the lower compartment of the bathroom sink adjacent to the small bedroom, thus leading to the swift return to a cherry-haired tiger meticulously observing every movement from a safe spot. Withal, without shrinking as if wanting to melt into the scenery. Instead, he stared on in wonder of the help coming to the rescue of both a friend and a precious bond.

‘Give me your arm.’ No response at first, even at the beckoning hand any other might mistake for being impatient yet was all but that. It was desperate, frightened to death by the flowing carmine. ‘Yoongi, arm.’

Despite not stating it outright, the mere act of putting it in the cross-legged lap calmly without grumbling said more than words could at the moment. Henceforth, a tense though comfortable hush descended while cleaning the wounds after disinfecting them, checking up on an expression continuously returning to stoicism with every hiss.

Notwithstanding, in spite of missing the change betraying bodily hurt that by no means outweighed the mental burden of both parties, there was a fascinated warmth in irises drained of life time and again as digits bandaged the visible part of the damage up.

‘There, that’s better.’ Glad hands put down the first-aid kit as the last freshly carved scar had been concealed by ivory linen, sighing in calming relief. All in all, it did not take long to patch the musician up but the pressure of time flowing away made the instance appear longer than it really had.

‘Why?’ Furrowed brows regarded the first step to physical healing, almost as if uncomprehending of how it would help. Of course, it would not aid mental stability but it did allow for the rescue of a soul who would have gone too soon.

‘Because we’re friends and I won’t let you fall. I’d never let you down.’ Trembling in hesitance, the palm of a barely recovered from the shock voice reached out to a pale cheek, the thumb languid in caressing the denied tears away. ‘You’re an incredible musician, Yoongi. No matter what anyone says or whether you believe me, it’s true. We, the guys and I, think so. No, we know so.’

‘You speak of them as if they’re my friends too.’ Had the genuine broken persona living beneath the skin of the rebel kicked out of school been unknown to the girl sitting across from him on the floor, the end would have happened right then and there. However, the opposite was the truth and thus the sneering tone was disregarded in favour of establishing at least a sliver of conviction of reality.

Something to believe in.

Something to hold on to.

‘They are. They disregard the fact you don’t contact them at all because, as I said, they know you’re going to make it big someday. They still continue to support you. None of them has forgotten about you.’ Lips pursed in careful contemplation, calculating the impact of each word which wanted to be said without angering the only temporarily subdued tiger. Eventually, such an argument was formed in good faith. ‘And you haven’t forgotten about them either because you wouldn’t have asked after Tae if you had.’

‘Still, you’re the only one here.’ A pale palm folded perfectly over the one on the salt-streaked cheek, the broken dreamer leaning gratefully into the touch with lashes fluttered shut and a voice as if drifting off into slumber. A blissful place away from cruel reality. Away from here. ‘You’ve always been.’

‘That’s not tr-’ The protest was cut short by an unexpected kiss, lips meeting in soft urgency. A whirlwind of emotions kicked up at the suddenness of the action, Reason and Fancy at war due to never having thought the tiger would do such a thing.

Nor expect to hear a new level of despair in the whisper temporarily breaking up the kiss, sounding strange as it was caught between genuine clarity and relieved sobbing begging to not be left behind. ‘It is. Only you love me.’

Thus, the truly vicious cycle began of coming to the rescue both mentally and physically only to end up in the sheets to fully calm down. See to it Yoongi can rest easy even while one heart falls deeper and deeper into chaotic love.

It has been for the past two years of denial.

But it cannot mean anything.

It should not.

Because, once it does, it becomes a passion.

A dream to pursue.

And that is forbidden and therefore it will shatter or be burned like music.

Until all there is left are merely ghosts.

The only type of changing the meetings of scared hearts have undergone is a shift in location after the rebel dared to run away again the day Jungkook almost ended it all on the edge of the highest skyscraper.

Barely in time could the youngest of the chaotic band be rescued, the man like an older brother pulling the maknae by the back of an ivory and rose checkered blouse and holding on to the boy until both had regained enough breath after spilling tears of frustrated relief. After all, Yoongi had sworn during the last meeting with the entire group beneath a nightly sparkling spring sky to be a support pillar because he knows what living while feeling useless is like, vouching to do so while Kook rested on his shoulder. Through the high-rising flickering amber flames of the fire pit, the two seemed content at last.

For a little while, everything was okay.

We would be fine.

Would be.

But tonight, on the roof of the abandoned warehouse in the harbour where on the lower floor stands a dusty brown piano, we are not. The damaged knuckles and chafed skin beneath sullen irises tells of barely escaping another arrest after being kicked out a bar again and drunkenly searching for a fight, the scent of cigarettes indicating music has been burned again because the pieces were not good enough.

They never are.

Not to society.

But, to the girl approaching a wild tiger, they are everything.

Though the producer is blind to see it.

‘Yoongi?’ No reaction to the greeting comes as the heavy door to the roof closes and bordeaux Puma sneakers pad with a heavy heart over the asphalt still warm due to the day’s heat. They come to a halt a mere step away from the brooding tiger. ‘You never answered me over text and make me come all the way out here to get a response.’

‘Does it matter?‘ Without so much as a sideways glance, entwined damaged slender fingers maintain a steady melancholic gaze over the dark quiet waters of the harbour. A mocking grin tugs at the corners of the mouth but does not form completely, essentially as joyless as the denied dreamer.

‘It does! It fucking does!’

For once, please believe me when I tell you that you’re not nothing.

‘To who, hm?’ At last, colourless irises grace a worried soul with a challenging look but at least attention is pulled enough to actually listen and not simply hear.

‘To the guys.’ A palm slaps against a rapid beating heart in a constricted chest as lips tremble and a cracking voice rises in volume. ‘To me.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘No, it’s not. We care, Yoongi, all of us.’ The last bit of distance is breached as a hand naturally folds over a frozen shoulder clad in a military green jacket, resting there without being violently shrugged off.

A sign of listening.

And thus the argument is pursued on a calmer and more steady yet equally urgent tone. ‘What about Jungkook? You promised to be his supporting pillar. Taehyung is over at Joon’s again, beaten up by his dad and you know it hurts you. Just as much as it hurts us.’

Upper arms are enveloped as briefly locked gazes break up, ashen strands hanging low in stubborn ignoring of the guardian angel crouching in front of them. ‘Us, Yoongi. The Bangtan Boys and me. Our family.’

‘I have no family. They were the first to destroy it all.’ Regardless of being unable to see it, lips are undoubtedly pursed in a fight to prevent new tears from falling. Woven digits tremble in barely suppressed crimson nicotine anger, vision blurring with tormenting memories of refusal.

‘But we build it up together, didn’t we? You know you aren’t-’

‘Shut up.’ An arm lashes out to undo any contact, the impact of the action causing a fall backwards. Nothing but agonizing exhaustion radiates off the snarl on the handsome face that has become loved as more than a mere friend.

Even while it extorts another for pleasure.

A means to forget.

It means nothing.

‘I’m tired of speaking. Tired of thinking. We both know where this goes anyway.’ Each sentence is accentuated by a firm demanding kiss sealing off any chance of protest after being roughly helped onto two unsteady feet, the tables turned as it now are the arms of somebody trying to help which are grabbed tightly.

Held dear and cherished in an incomprehensible manner.

But it is better than nothing.

‘We can’t keep doing this.’ Had this been pure desire, the shape pressing hotly against the thigh would have been appreciated in a whole different way. Interpreted in a manner not remotely close to the reality of us because it is not sensual wanton craving.

It is pent-up frustration coming to a boiling point.

Fruitless.

A wandering ghost.

A heap of ashes.

‘Shut up.’ The hands creating an abyss by pushing against a sturdy chest are given other purpose. Nevertheless, the meaning of the distance remains: foolishly to be able to be filled with sincerity.

One hand is placed on the hip and the other below, simulating a laughable imitation of actual craving as another kiss adds to the poor fancy. ‘Just do what you’re told for once.’

Lips connect once more in saltwater carrying broken wishes and all the dreams that cannot be because of emotions warring with ideals, the correct way of life stained by nicotine and the sharp yet sweet tang of cheap soju.

Trembling fingers envelop damaged cheeks as slender musically gifted hands tug at the edge of pants, beckoning them to lie down before undoing the belt fastening bleached ripped jeans only to be warmly welcomed again by the palms that only get to hold the face they love in this repeated loveless lovemaking. Knowing the impatience of the tiger, any restrictions to allowing the heated wantonness pressed against the thigh earlier have been removed before wiping away returned tears and lovingly caressing ashen brown locks.

Don’t get your hopes up. It won’t mean anything. It’s just a means of comfort.

Everything is familiar, a piece of the past tainted by crimson and smoke to cling to.

The warmth spreading throughout as separate souls effortlessly become one, unprotected in wordlessness and thus letting actions say all that tongues cannot.

The speed of snapping hips, uncaring about pleasure and merely wanting to fuck the pain away.

The agony of the tug on each tendon keeping the heart inherently belonging to the occasional groan breaking through heavy breaths whispering into the side of the neck.

The urban scent of cigarettes, ashes and blood.

The possessive iron-like grip on the waist, desperate to be grounded in the moment or simply an anchor into this world while the mind it belongs to tries to flee.

The chase after temporary oblivion together, though one soul remains a step behind to not frighten the other into love.

After all, it has no meaning.

None of this.

It is a ghost we keep.

Preventing us from finding happiness together.

The chance to hear three simple words spill at least once before or after a troubled mind finds brief peace in the arms of the woman he said, no, knows loves him. Nevertheless, Yoongi cannot return the affection.

Cruelly, the hope remains even while lying on the warm concrete, the heat seeping through dishevelled clothes covering the upper part of the body, and embracing the musical genius drifting somewhere in a pleasant ignorant limbo. The same state of being that lashes turned to a beautiful sparkling sky did not reach again and never will during these meetings. Still, it is not minded for this is a more meaningful type of contentment.

Simply lying here among the ashes.

But it cannot mean anything.

It should not.

Because, once it does, it becomes a passion.

A dream to pursue.

And that is forbidden and therefore it will shatter or be burned like music.

Until all there is left are merely ghosts.

#BTS #BTS smut #BTS x Reader #hyunglinenetwork #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #Yoongi #SUGA #Min Yoongi #Agust D

89 notes · View notes

heart-eyes-kippen · 5 years

Text

Inhibitions

Word Count: 4871

Summary:

"Maybe he just had to do it. Maybe he had to let go of his inhibitions, his pre-conceived plans, everything, and march right down those stairs with nothing but intent."

A.k.a Cyrus comes out to his parents, and suddenly they understand why he talks about a certain boy so much. Also TJ gives him a hug because it's what he deserves.

You can read it on AO3 here

Hey dad, hey Sharon, I’m gay.

Hey, what’s up guys, I don’t like girls!

Hey, you know those grandkids you’re looking forward to in future? Yeah, they may be logistically impossible. Sorry.

Hey, you know Ellen? The TV show host? Yeah, the gay one. Anyway - just thought I’d let you know that her and I share a trait and that’s not liking the opposite gender.

Cyrus let out a heavy sigh, blowing some of his hair up in the process. He placed his hands down on his desk, feeling butterflies begin to swarm his stomach at the prospect of what he was planning. His heart was soaring, and his clammy hands were shaking, and was the room supposed to be spinning like this?

Maybe he wasn’t as ready as he thought it was. Or, maybe, coming out would always be a nerve-wracking process no matter how long he waited.

He’d spent a countless amount of late nights staring up at his plain white ceiling, with nothing but deafening silence to give him company as his mind raced with a million different scenarios.

Each option was becoming more and more convoluted, to the point where he wasn’t sure if his parents wouldn’t even recognise he was trying to come out to them. He supposed it was his mind’s way of escaping, of recoiling from the prospect of coming out.

Cyrus was hyper-aware of the media his parents consumed, in hope it would shed some light on their view of people like him. All he’d gotten so far were tiny inclinations, tiny indicators that maybe this wouldn’t go terribly.

He let out the breath he’d been holding, turning his attention to the window. Through it, he could see the last remnants of light fading, with light wispy clouds drifting peacefully across the darkening sky. His body felt stiff now with nerves as his grip on the desk tightened. Distantly, he could feel the cool wood pressing up against his skin, turning his fingers white with the pressure after a few moments, but it somehow provided him with a tiny sense of relief.

The swings weren’t an option. Not anymore. So here he was instead, left with a ball of anxiousness that had initially settled in the pit of his stomach, but seemed to be clawing its way up to the surface now.

Why was this so anxiety-inducing?

He’d crossed a major hurdle in allowing himself to utter the words ‘I’m gay,’ which held weight in comparison to simply admitting that he was crushing on a guy. Those words had kept him awake at one time, but now they brought him relief. He’d felt light as air after saying them aloud, solidifying them, and it was that moment he was sure as ever they were true.

It wasn’t an ‘I don’t like I girls as much as originally intended,’ or an ‘oh god that boy is kind of cute,’ it was a ‘no - this is me.’ This is who I am. This is the part of me that shouldn’t matter as much as it apparently does, but here he was, having a full-blown freak out over telling them to his dad and step-mom. He’d always prided himself on maintaining some form of rationality when it came to others, but that didn’t apply to himself nearly as much as he wanted it to.

When the silence became too much, Cyrus began flicking through his phone desperately in search of some music to fill it, hands still trembling as he did so. A warm night-light, in the shape of a dinosaur, lit the back corner of his room. Apart from that, he was enveloped by darkness as stars began to speckle the night sky, accompanied now by a clear view of the moon.

He turned up the music, not focusing so much on the lyrics as he was on his own thoughts. Hearing another voice, despite it practically becoming white noise, alleviated some of the ever-present loneliness that was pressing down on his chest.

Cyrus’ thoughts turned, once again, to the predicament at hand. He crossed the room, away from the glow of his night-light to his window. The parted curtains allowed pale moonlight, muted slightly by the clouds now, to pour inside. He leaned up against the window sill as though it was providing him with some kind of life support.

At that moment, maybe it was.

Desperate for more noise, he fiddled clumsily with the lock for a moment before lifting the window with some effort. Cool evening rushed by him right into his room, whistling softly as it did so.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips.

Maybe he just had to do it. Maybe he had to let go of his inhibitions, his pre-conceived plans, everything, and march right down those stairs with nothing but intent. The scared boy he once was would never have even dreamed of doing something along those lines, but that wasn’t him anymore. There was a flame of confidence inside of him now that hadn’t been there previously, and although it flickered on occasion, even coming close to burning out, it somehow managed to remain there.

He could do this. There was no one telling him he couldn’t, apart from himself. So why were his feet seemingly rooted to the carpet beneath his feet?

Cyrus thought about his dad. He thought about the way those eyes always crinkled with laughter right after his own jokes, he thought about the way they clouded with concern whenever Cyrus walked through the door with slumped shoulders, exhausted from the drama of that day. He thought about the rare but impossibly warm hugs he would wrap Cyrus up in when he’d had a particularly bad day.

Then, his thoughts shifted to Sharon. The way her laughter became high-pitched shrieks of glee whenever they’d watch trashy TV shows together and a particularly funny moment cropped up. They way she’d given him space at first to become accustomed to the new house, and the way she’d embraced him with nothing but warmth.

They wanted the best for him. Of course they did. But did that extend to this? Would that make them perfectly okay with having a gay son? Even if they were accepting, would Cyrus have to live with their private disappointment about what would’ve been? Would he see it constantly in the way they looked at him, or the way they interacted with him?

Cyrus had always been acutely fearful of being a disappointment, and it seemed nothing he did could wipe away the impression that he was, to his friends, to his family.

To himself.

He swallowed thickly, fingers trailing along the surface of his window sill as he continued to look out at the white sky. The clouds had parted again, revealing the entirety of the bright moon that was briefly hidden away.

Some of his shakiness had eased, but his heart still felt as though it might beat out of his chest with how rapidly it was thudding away. Adrenaline was surging through his veins, and nervousness was rising his throat as he turned to his bedroom door, which stood ajar only slightly.

He decided upon sending a quick text, the light emanating from his phone momentarily illuminating his face, before setting it down on his desk again and squeezing his eyes shut.

Cyrus took one step. Then another. Music was still ringing out in his room, reverberating off the walls with how loud it was, and for a moment he was able to register shock at the fact that his dad hadn’t come up to ask what was going on.

He padded down the stairs, tugging nervously at the sleeves of his shirt as he did so. Step by step, he made his way towards the kitchen. It was hot down there with the heater running, almost too hot, and he felt his face warm slightly as he came to a stop.

The fireplace was crackling away, filled with hunks of fresh wood and stone-grey ashes. Shadows were cast onto his face, which was visibly pale even in the warm light. A speckled marble counter separated him from his dad, who was stood in the light of the kitchen by a chopping board.

Cyrus’ heart was racing.

“Dad?”

His voice was timid, and the sound of it almost made him wince. He didn’t think he’d ever sounded so scared.

“Yeah?” he hummed back distractedly, attention focused on the head of broccoli he was systematically chopping up.

“I need to tell you guys something.”

His dad halted in his movements, gaze turning towards him curiously. Cyrus placed his hands down against the cool marble.

“Is...this something important?”

Cyrus gave a meek nod. His dad placed the knife down immediately, features softened slightly with concern now.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

This was it, he thought to himself, trying desperately to keep his breathes steady. He couldn’t hide behind jokes this time around, although a part of him sincerely wanted to. It was his immediate coping mechanism in situations that were serious, and not being able to lean on it was daunting.

His dad re-emerged almost a minute later, Sharon in tow now. They sat themselves down on the black bar stools opposite Cyrus, who stepped back immediately to put some distance between them. Being close seemed to make things all the more real.

Briefly, he noticed that they’d both assumed their therapist positions, but he tried not to linger on that fact.

Cyrus felt as though he was on a stage, with blinding spotlights beaming down on him, for a performance he hadn’t rehearsed for in the slightest.

Except - he had. He’d spent hours upon hours imagining every detail of this exact conversation, every detail of every possible outcome. He couldn’t depend upon that now, though.

Three words. That’s all it would take. He didn’t have to drag any of this out, but of course, he was Cyrus and his natural response to nervousness was to blurt out whatever crossed his mind.

“Okay, I, um...I just want you to know that I’ve been wanting to do this for ages but I kept holding off because I wasn’t sure about it and yeah, I guess it could kind of come as a shock, but I just...need you to know that the last thing I’d ever want to do is disappoint either of you, and I really hope this doesn’t change how you think about me, and I hope it doesn’t change how our Rabbi thinks of me and I hope this doesn’t have to be a big deal even though oh boy, I’ve made this a big deal in my head! Um...I’m rambling, aren’t I? Yeah, I’m rambling.”

His dad and step-mom had expressions on their faces that resembled shock, although only vaguely. They’d both been trained to conceal emotion and it had always been somewhat of an obstacle at the best of times.

His dad was the first to speak, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Cyrus...you can tell us whatever this is, okay? If it’s causing you this much stress, then...I think it’d be good to get off your chest.”

Sharon nodded along in agreement. The only sounds that filled the room at that moment we’re the crackling of the fire, the low hum of the fridge running, and the muffled pop music blasting from Cyrus’ phone from upstairs.

He took in a deep breath, before letting it out again with an audible whoosh.

“I’m gay.”

Silence.

Cyrus’ eyes darted desperately between their faces, searching for any hint of emotion that would give away what they were feeling. His heart began to sink with disappointment, and he had to take a moment to swallow the lump that had appeared in the back of his throat. His mouth was dry, and his hands were becoming clammy again.

In reality, only a few seconds had passed, but it felt like minutes.

“Cyrus...” his dad trailed off, gesturing towards the stool that was placed opposite them.

Cyrus bit his lip, before timidly stepping forward to sit down. His dad reached across the counter to take his hands, officially closing the distance between them. Sharon reached across too, a kind smile gracing her lips now, and Cyrus felt relief flood his system in one big rush.

“I’m sorry you were scared to tell us, and I’m sorry we haven’t been there for you...the thought of that just...” his dad took a deep breath in, shaking his head.

Sharon chimed in. “Cyrus. We love you no matter what, okay? All four of us. Our Rabbi loves you. This world...it’s harsh sometimes, and unfair, but nothing could possibly change the way we feel. You’ll always have us.”

After trying hard to fight the tears that were pricking at his eyes, Cyrus finally allowed a few stray ones to slip down his cheeks. His friends had been one thing, but his dad and step-mom had been a whole other thing, and those words had somehow managed to alleviate the heavy weight he felt pressing down on his chest. He choked back a small sob, before standing up from his chair and rushing around to them both. His dad was up in an instant, pulling him into a tight hug that Sharon was joining in on soon enough.

“We’re here now,” he heard his dad murmur, followed by the feeling of a soft kiss being planted on his head.

Cyrus grabbed onto his dad’s shirt, smiling despite the lump in his throat. He’d worried so, so much about this, and it had all somehow turned out fine. One of his many talents was getting himself worked up, and now he was finally unwinding again after what seemed like

months. An embarrassing amount of tears were making their way down his face now, being caught by the soft fabric of his dad’s shirt.

“Thanks,” he responded, in a muffled whisper.

It was about forty-five minutes later that his dad called to him from the kitchen, announcing that dinner was ready. Cyrus’ tears had long dried up by now, and despite looking like somewhat of a mess he felt a lot more content than he had just over an hour ago.

After rushing back up to his room to pause his music, he’d settled down on the couch and flicked through a few channels, eventually stopping on a soap opera he’d never heard of before and allowing all of its contrived drama to entertain him for a while.

Cyrus opened his mouth to respond, but shut it almost immediately when a few sharp knocks sounded at their front door. Confusion was written on his face as he got up from the couch, padding over to the darkened hallway and flicking on the light switch. He squinted for a moment, trying to make out who it was through the strip of stained glass beside the door, but eventually, he gave in with a shrug and moved forward to open it. Shadows shrank away from the light as it poured out onto the porch.

There, in all of his adorable glory, stood TJ.

Cyrus almost wanted to laugh. He’d completely forgotten about sending that text.

His cheeks were tinged red from the cold and he appeared to be out of breath, chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared back at the Cyrus. He was wearing a faded blue hoodie, the basketball printed onto it barely recognisable, and Cyrus couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips.

“Hey,” he breathed out.

TJ gave him a bright smile, seeming somewhat bashful as he reached up to rub the nape of his neck.

“Hey. Sorry, I just got out of practice, but I got your message. How’d it go?”

Cyrus tipped his head to the side at that, taking the boy in for a moment longer. His features were softened slightly by the glow of their overhead lamp. His hair was still slightly damp, presumably from showering, and his eyes were soft as they met his.

“Sorry, it’s just - you came,” he murmured, huffing out a laugh, “I didn’t expect you to.”

“Of course I came,” TJ smiled back, “this is big for you.”

The two looked across at one another for a few long seconds, cool evening breeze gusting over them. The sounds of approaching footsteps broke them both out of their seeming trances, and soon enough Cyrus’ dad was stepping out into the hallway.

“TJ! Hello,” he greeted, a pleasant smile on his lips as he walked forward.

His eyes flickered from Cyrus, who was looking down at the ground, to TJ, who was nervously wringing his hands together.

“Hey, Mr. Goodman!”

His dad stared a moment longer, and Cyrus’ stomach flipped at the realisation that swept over his face.

“Such a gentleman,” he mused, huffing out a laugh as he stepped aside, “you can just call me Jack. Would you like to stay over for dinner? We have plenty.”

TJ looked conflicted for a moment, but eventually, he nodded. “If that’s okay, then that sounds great! I’d just have to check with my mom.”

After sending a quick text, TJ was stepping in and toeing off his shoes by the rack, lingering for a moment by the doorway. Cyrus’ dad flashed them both a knowing look, before disappearing into the living room again. Cyrus turned to the boy again, a visible flush reddening his cheeks.

“It went well. I’m really glad I did it,” he told him, face lit up with a beaming smile.

TJ’s looked fond as he held out his arms, allowing Cyrus to step into them.

“I’m proud of you,” TJ mumbled against his neck, and Cyrus felt himself melt right then and there. He could barely keep the smile from his lips as he buried his face in the fabric of the boy’s hoodie. It smelt faintly of soap, and the usual scent of his cologne. Briefly, he considered the thought of just staying like this forever.

Unfortunately, though, they parted after what was maybe a moment too long.

Butterflies were swarming his stomach as he looked up at TJ, leaving him with an almost dizzying feeling of jitteriness. He cleared his throat eventually, turning towards the doorway.

“We should probably, you know...”

“Yeah,” TJ agreed, somewhat breathlessly.

They traipsed out into the dimly light living room, at the edge of which was their dining table had been set up for five people. With a giddy smile, Cyrus made his way over and settled down in the seat opposite his dad. TJ sat down beside him, and the pair shot each other a confused glance as Sharon began looking between them, much like his dad had just done.

Deep red candles were placed carefully in the centre of the table, glowing in the darkness, and it took Cyrus a moment or two to register that candles were definitely not a normal thing for them at the dinner table. He hastily brushed the thought off.

“Thanks again for this,” said TJ.

Cyrus�� dad waved him off. “No problem! It’s always nice having you.”

In typical fashion, their dinner started out with questions about school, which Cyrus and TJ answered as cheerfully as they could.

“Hey, you guys know how TJ is like, a basketball god?” he asked after a few minutes, eager to change the topic.

He heard the boy laugh softly from beside him. “Well, basketball mortal. I haven’t upgraded to god status yet.”

“You have in my eyes,” Cyrus protested, expression softening at the adorable smile on TJ’s face. He stared, for what was likely a moment too long, before snapping himself out of it. “Um, anyways! Today during lunch break TJ got a perfect basket from all the way across the court, literally standing backwards, on the first go! It was amazing. I could practically feel the power radiating from him.”

TJ shook his head at that, face reddened slightly as he waved him off. “I’ve practised it a few times before-“

“Not today though! See what I mean, guys? He’s a modest basketball god.”

Cyrus’ dad looked on in amusement, exchanging a fond look with Sharon before turning back to the pair.

“That sounds impressive,” he agreed, voice heavy with implications Cyrus really didn’t want to unpack, “I can see why you’re captain.”

“Thank you,” TJ huffed out a laugh, reaching over to place a gentle hand on Cyrus’ shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere without this guy, though. He’s the best cheerleader anyone could ask for.”

Cyrus beamed at that, taking a quick sip of his water. “I do pride myself on my signs,” he bragged.

“I’m glad those signs are appreciated,” Sharon chimed in, “I swear I see you working on those day in and day out.”

“I’m very dedicated,” Cyrus agreed with a nod, “three sporty friends mean a sign for each of their games.”

The conversation continued on from there, the fireplace still crackling away in the background as they ate. Cyrus felt himself relaxing more with each second that passed, which was a side effect he’d noticed whenever TJ was around. Lately, seeing the boy with Kira never failed in stressing him out and making his throat close up - nothing at all like how he usually felt around him - but he was grateful to have that same peaceful feeling back.

Eventually, Cyrus’ dad asked a seemingly innocent question that had him very nearly choking on his water.

“So TJ, do you have a girlfriend at all?”

After a few moments of spluttering, he managed to recover, flashing everyone a timid smile.

TJ, who had previously seemed relatively relaxed, shifted nervously in his chair. He put down his cutlery with a slight clatter, opening his mouth to respond before closing it again. His eyes never left Cyrus’ as he responded, and Cyrus could feel the air seeping out of his lungs.

“No, I don’t...I’m uh, not really interested.”

Sharon‘s eyebrows shot up at that, but otherwise she nodded and gave him a polite smile. His dad on the other hand, had a knowing glint in his eye as his gaze met Cyrus’.

He blushed, suddenly finding his plate of food to be the most fascinating thing in the room. Luckily, Sharon reverted to asking TJ about how his parents were doing, and the boy was more than happy to fill her in.

They excused themselves after about twenty more minutes, retreating upstairs towards Cyrus’ room. It was dark when they entered, with the warmth from his night light illuminating one side of the room, while moonlight lit up the other.

He walked over to his window, closing it to prevent any more wind from gusting in, before settling down on his bed. TJ followed suit, smiling gently as he crossed his legs.

“You know what I wanna get?” he asked.

Cyrus, who had been somewhat preoccupied with the way the moonlight was currently falling onto TJ’s face, blinked at him for a moment or two.

“Um,” he paused, clearing his throat, “what do you wanna get?”

“A tattoo,” he answered eagerly, hands clasped together on his lap.

Cyrus gave him a confused smile. “A tattoo? What kind?”

“Like...” TJ trailed off, seeming bashful all of a sudden, “maybe an inside joke between just us. Somersault or something, you know?”

“That’s super sweet...apart from the fact that you’re fourteen and tattoos are permanent,” Cyrus told him, clicking in his tongue in disapproval, “stealing a golf cart is one thing, but illegally getting a tattoo is a whole other thing.”

TJ just grinned. “One day, then.”

Cyrus nodded. TJ’s eyes were gleaming mischievously in the moonlight, and he had what was possibly the most adorable smile on his lips to contrast. It made him feel warm but jittery inside at the same time, which proved to be a pretty odd combination. He shifted slightly, eyes never leaving the boy.

“You know...tattoos are permanent, but markers aren’t.”

TJ bit his lip at that, clearly fighting back a smile. “Are you asking me if you can draw a tattoo on my arm?”

“A design, not a tattoo,” Cyrus corrected, getting up from the bed and moving over to his desk. He rummaged through his drawers for a moment, before pulling letting out a triumphant ‘aha!’ as he pulled out a black marker.

His phone, which was still sitting on his desk, lit up with a notification. Cyrus glanced down at it for a moment, before disregarding it and resuming the pop music he’d been blasting earlier, at a reasonable volume this time.

TJ flashed him a smirk as he made his way back over to the bed, sitting across from the boy.

“I’m ready for my tattoo.”

With an eye-roll, Cyrus gave his shoulder a playful shove.

“What design would you like, Sir Kippen?”

TJ hummed thoughtfully at that, looking out at the night sky for a moment as he did so.

“A heart with an arrow going through it, with ‘somersault’ written inside of it.”

Cyrus felt his face grow warm, and he prayed it wouldn’t be noticeable given the low amount of light. He shuffled closer to the boy with a faint smile, chancing a glance up.

TJ’s eyes were warm, and his lips were parted slightly, and now that his hair had dried it looked so ridiculously fluffy. Cyrus had to close his eyes for a moment to redirect his focus.

“Okay,” he murmured, gently taking the boy’s arm and resting it on his leg, “I’m not a professional by any means, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Sparks danced in the air around them, particularly with each point of contact, and suddenly that swarm of butterflies was making a reappearance in Cyrus’ stomach. He took in a shaky breath, hoping to god TJ wouldn’t notice how nervous he was, before taking the lid off of his marker.

He glanced up once more to find TJ watching his every move, and a small smile came to his lips as he set to work.

“Okay, so...I’ll do the word first,” he whispered, voice competing slightly with the upbeat music that filled his room.

Cyrus shuffled impossibly closer, before carefully writing the word ‘somersault’ in cursive on the inner part of TJ’s wrist. He wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard the boy take in a sharp breath, or if that was just his guileless mind imagining things. Either way, he had to bite back a smile.

“Okay, I think that’s good. Now the heart,” he said, in a murmur this time.

He glanced up again to find that TJ was clinging onto every word that left his mouth. Letting out a breath, he returned to work.

It ended up looking decent in the end, and a strange sense of disappointment filled his chest as he shuffled back to his previous position.

TJ gave him a roguish smile. “I think I just illegally got a tattoo. A very nice one too, might I add.”

“Shut up!” Cyrus giggled, and TJ only narrowly managed to dodge the pillow he aimed at him.

The glow of a street lamp was the only thing to illuminate TJ’s features as the boy gazed back at him. His smile was soft, and his eyes were alight with something Cyrus couldn’t quite pinpoint.

They were stood where Cyrus’ lawn met the pavement, silence filling the air apart from the cars that occasionally passed by.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, bashfully directing his gaze towards the concrete. There were unspoken words there, he knew there were, but neither of them seemed to be ready to acknowledge them just yet.

Instead, they settled in the air, covering them like a blanket with the promise of something more later on. In that moment, it was more than enough for Cyrus.

He stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and reached out to place his hands on TJ’s shoulders. His heart was racing all over again.

TJ smiled gently. “Thanks for having me.”

“No problem,” Cyrus returned, acutely aware of the fact that he was currently in the boy’s space. “Get home safe, you rebel.”

TJ laughed softly. “I’ll consider it.”

“You better! We still have that detention, and I’m not suffering through it alone.”

The boy’s expression softened. A pitch black sky stretched above their heads, speckled with burning stars, and Cyrus didn’t think he’d felt so peaceful in a long time.

“I’ll be there,” he promised.

“Good,” Cyrus whispered back.

They lingered there for a moment longer. Cyrus let out a shaky exhale, which he could briefly see in the air.

“I’ll message you later tonight,” he added.

TJ took a step back then, still smiling. “I’ll be waiting. Bye, Cy.”

He turned around and walked away, looking back when he reached the next street light to give Cyrus a wave. The boy smiled and returned it.

At the streetlamp after that, TJ jumped up, tapping his shoes together, and Cyrus let out a giggle that cut through the silence.

He pretended not to notice the knowing looks he received when he went back inside.

#tyrus #tyrus fanfic #andi mack #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #my fics

147 notes · View notes

thefifthclown · 5 years

Text

Part 2, Chapter 2-Reunion and Confrontation, and the Demon of Wrath; Scene 2

Fifth, Pierrot, pages 223-231

January 30th, 2AM.

It was about three hours after Lemy’s revival.

Guided by the demon that dwelled inside the red wineglass, the “Glass of Conchita”, Lemy arrived at the northernmost point of Merrigod Plateau, the Apocalypse Cliffs.

It was an enormous chasm. He could faintly hear water flowing below. It seemed there was a river there.

But it wasn’t a height that he would be able to get away unscathed if he fell. Even if he was able to withstand the impact, Lemy couldn’t swim in the first place.

In the pitch darkness, Lemy cautiously pressed forward, careful not to misstep.

Just a bit further. Julia should be by the ‘grave of Pale Noel’ up ahead. Ney said to Lemy.

She was not the “Demon of Gluttony”. There was someone else, a different being, residing inside the Glass. Like Ney, he couldn’t see that being either. Only the voice spoke to him.

Lemy had no memory of having contracted with a demon. It was done without him knowing. So he had no real obligation to obey it. Even if it was thanks to them that he didn’t die before.

But if they told him that his mother was ahead, then he had to keep going. According to Ney, Magician and Sniper were heading that way too.

They would try to bring his mother to harm.

And he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d gotten appropriate payback against the two of them.

After moving a little ways forward, he arrived at a place that had several large rocks piled up like a mountain. When he moved behind it, he found a cave entrance that went through the rocks.

Go in there. Your destination should be right through.

“But I don’t have a lantern with me.”

Don’t worry. It should be bright inside.

Ney knew a lot. But how did she come to be so well-versed in so many things? He’d asked her several times, but she would never tell him, dodging the question.

After timidly making his way inside, he immediately learned what Ney had meant.

The rocks gave off a faint light. Strictly speaking, the moss that was clinging to the rocks was the thing that was glowing. Thanks to that Lemy still could see inside the cave.

The cave took on a gradual incline that led downward. He advanced, taking care not to lose his footing. The air was pleasant, and a little chilly.

But when he’d made it all the way inside, the coolness gradually lessened. It was as if the temperature was rising.

At the other end, it looked as though the rocks were burning. They were giving off a different light than regular fire. It was blue. Blue flames were burning the moss on the rocks.

If he drew any closer, it might set his clothes on fire. Lemy continued walking while avoiding the reach of the flames.

As he did so—

“Wha--!?”

A ball of blue fire shot at him from inside. Lemy swiftly dodged it. The ball of fire impacted against the rock, and then gave rise to new blue flames.

--That’s the fire magic that the “Red Cat Sorceress” specializes in. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it. Take care, Lemy. You might not die, but if your body gets burned to ashes it might take some time to resurrect you.

He didn’t need to be told that. Even Lemy had put up with heat. He’d once gotten a burn on his hand when trying to help Phoebe with the cooking. He’d had to endure the awful, stinging pain for a few days until it had healed.

“Ney. Who is the ‘Red Cat Sorceress’—”

That’s your mother, Julia.

“--!? Mom’s a…sorceress?”

What’s surprising about that at this point? Did you think a woman that’s able to lead Pere Noel was an ordinary human being? And you yourself saw her magical tools in the treasure room before.

Thanks to the flames and light of the moss, the inside of the cave grew as bright as if it were midday.

Finally, he came out into a wide space. It seemed it was the deepest part of the cave. He could see some kind of pattern tightly carved into the surrounding rock.

There were three people there.

One was Julia. She had her arms spread, and both of her hands were wreathed in blue flames. There was an old grave marker behind her back, and on it was written the name “Pale Noel.”

There were two people who looked to be facing off against her. He couldn’t see them well from behind, but Lemy immediately knew who they were. Magician and Sniper.

“Mom!”

When Lemy called to her, all three people turned to face him at once. And all of them at once looked surprised.

“Lemy!? Why are you here…?”

His mother looked confused. Maybe she hadn’t wanted Lemy to come there. To keep him from getting involved any more than he was--

But it was too late for such sentiment. Lemy had already killed several people, taking his mother’s directions as his own will. He figured now that he’d come this far, he would see it through to the end.

And it wouldn’t be the “lowest end” that Magician had said it would be. He would kill Magician and Sniper, and then revive Pere Noel too. He was confident his mother would do well, even if she wasn’t president anymore. This story would close on Lemy and Julia’s victory.

Magician looked to be even more shaken than his mother. That was understandable, the foe she’d thought they’d killed appearing before them again in this way.

“Impossible…Gumillia surely dealt him the finishing blow. How…”

Looking upon them, Julia sighed as though somewhat put off.

“Hah…Have you learned nothing these past six hundred years? You must have realized that Lemy made a contract with the ‘Demon of Gluttony’. –A ‘contractor’ won’t die. You can’t kill them through normal means.”

“…What!? But, Venomania and Conchita—“

“You at least remember who it was that killed Venomania, don’t you? Yes, Karchess Crim…He had received a ‘certain something’ from his mistress.”

“--’A Vessel of Deadly Sin’.”

“Exactly. The only one who can kill a ‘contractor’ is someone else who’s similarly made a contract with a demon. The one who killed Conchita was the very ‘contractor’ herself. No matter how powerful your magic is, you are powerless before a ‘contractor’. As long as you aren’t borrowing the power of a higher-grade being than yourself.”

“That can’t be true. I’ve defeated a ‘contractor’ once before.”

“Are you talking about Presi?”

“Yes. The Minister of Internal Affairs of the kingdom of Lucifenia, and the man who tried to secure political power using Riliane when she was six years old. I killed him with my own hands, and he was possessed by a demon.”

On hearing that, Julia laughed scornfully.

“He was just using the power of the demon that had possessed Riliane. He wasn’t a ‘contractor’. So even you could finish him off.”

“That can’t…Then everything I’ve…done until now…”

“You could say that you’ve been very lucky. You must be, to survive this long, hardly ever having to face off against a ‘contractor’ directly. And you’ve had a god acquaintance who stepped in to save you when you needed it. But Held is no longer in this world. And what can the likes of Michaela do, having only just been promoted from a spirit? --There’s no one left to save you now!”

Right as she finished speaking, Julia released a ball of fire from her right hand.

It was headed straight for Magician, but it dispersed as though striking against an invisible wall.

“…I don’t need help from any god. Right now I—Elluka Clockworker—can defeat you all by myself.”

“—Don’t you dare go by that name!”

Elluka continued, ignoring Julia’s angry cry. “Julia—no, ‘Irina’. You aren’t a ‘contractor’ yourself, are you? So I shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Heh heh…Then strike at me with your favored magic. Even if you do, all you’ll injure is ‘Germaine Avadonia’’s body. You can’t finish me off.”

“—I’ll have to destroy the red cat that’s your real body. It looks as though you’ve hidden it somewhere…. I’ll have to take my time looking for it after I defeat you.”

Elluka started to gather lightning in her hand. Sniper followed suit, aiming her gun at Julia.

“Like hell you will!”

Lemy took out his knife and ran towards Elluka.

But Sniper quickly moved to cut Lemy off, and wordlessly fired her gun.

The gunshot reverberated through the cave. The bullet directly pierced Lemy’s heart.

“Guh…”

Lemy fell to his knees, clutching his chest. Blood gushed from the wound.

But he soon stopped feeling any pain. The wound steadily closed up, and the blood stopped.

“My recovery’s much faster than it was earlier…?”

That’s because you’re directly holding the glass. Our Lady’s protection is strong.

“Thanks for the explanation, Ney. …I got it, that’s pretty handy.”

Lemy stood once more.

“…Like a dead soldier. No—those monsters didn’t have such a quick recovery power.”

Sniper was expressionless, but there was a faint bit of sweat on her forehead. That wasn’t from the heat inside the cave.

Give up, Gumillia. Those who’ve contracted with the “Demon of Gluttony” have an especially strong healing power. Your precious gun is useless against Lemy!

Could Ney’s voice reach Gumillia? He didn’t know, but with a practiced motion she ejected all the bullets from her gun, and then loaded it up with different ones.

“If lead bullets are no good—then what about this?”

A beam of light fired from the gun, and enfolded Lemy’s body.

“Ghuh!?”

Assailed by an extreme pain, Lemy was blown backward.

“…”

--But after a few seconds, he once more stood up again. His clothes were in tatters, but there wasn’t a scratch on him.

“Even magic bullets, won’t work…” Gumillia murmured.

Blue fire shot towards her from behind.

“Could you not bully my child?”

Julia had released that fire. Gumillia had been focused on Lemy; when she noticed them and turned around, the waves of flame were already upon her.

Immediately afterward, there was a flash of green light and a thunderous roar. A much louder and more earsplitting noise than the one Gumillia’s gun gave off. In the span of a second, all of the flames had been extinguished.

“—Gumillia’s not your foe. I am, Irina.”

Elluka had her hand thrust out in front of her. She had dispelled the fire by releasing the lightning that she held there.

“…What a pain you are.” Julia once more summoned her flames to hand.

“You’re certainly persistent.” Elluka too began preparing to fire lightning again.

“…” Gumillia wordlessly pointed her gun at Lemy.

“That’s not going to work. You’re clueless, you know that?” Lemy gripped his silver knife.

And so—

Santa Claus.

Pierrot.

Magician.

And Sniper.

The curtain opened on a four-way duel.

<<prev------directory------next>>

32 notes · View notes

axe-trio-commanders · 4 years

Text

Saving Face

Secretly, Taimi was the true cool kid all along. The coolest of kids. Spoilers for lws2, lws1, and a violent, if non-permanent, death. Because this is how we do introductions.

Wow, that was... anticlimactic. Zori looked down at the sylvari, dead at the bottom of the canyon- having slumped off of his little pillar when she’d shot the last arrow. She was sure he’d thought he was clever, jumping around like that, but... had Aerin... really not expected a ranger to use a ranged weapon? Though, granted, she’d... never seen a sylvari... act like that. Yes, some of them were a little off-putting, and there was the nightmare court, but he didn’t seem entirely...

“Commander? Wanna come down here and take a look?”

Zori stiffened, giving the group a nod, her voice... artificially gruff as she responded. “Right. Yes, of course.”

...She’d look at the body, see if it was hiding anything- llama hair, straw, that... incredibly, incredibly ominous note that she had to try very hard to fake confidence despite, her thoughts rather immediately going towards concern for Trahearne... She’d hurry back towards Prosperity before the rest, anxious to get to the bottom of this- that, and... maybe get a little alone time by herself. If she was entirely honest... joining up with the group that had killed Scarlet, by themselves- as far as she’d been told- while she was gone...? She knew they called her ‘boss’ because she was the commander, was supposed to know what she was doing, but... she saw the looks Ev was giving her. A human she’d met... relatively recently- Gixx had assigned her as Zori’s exploration partner after the defeat of Zhaitan, despite her initial protests- and... despite being a) human, b) a revenant from the mists, and c) from both several decades ago and Cantha... they’d gotten along pretty well so far. Unfortunately, this meant that Ev was very distinctly aware, unlike the rest of the group, that Zori... really didn’t live up to the reputation she’d been given- and, currently, was trying to portray to them. Confident, ready to fight entire dragons, having... any idea how to militarily strategize... a rather long shot from the ash-legion cub who happened to get involved in a revolutionary military campaign with a brilliant scholar and strategist. Neither of which were herself. She was, currently, thankful for the Ash Legion training that made her just good enough at faking confidence for the rest of the group to... seem to buy it, but... honestly, she was just grateful to Ev for going along with it for now. Maybe she’d have to attempt to make some time alone to talk to her about it. But- more importantly, Prosperity!

The town was... small. It would probably be more homely without the vines everywhere- and, admittedly, Zori still wasn’t used to fighting the plants... but, soon enough, she’d find. Well, nothing about Aerin, but... something about Scarlet, instead. Scarlet Briar... Zori’d heard plenty about her- how she’d wreaked havoc upon the entirety of Tyria in the span of months, all while the commander was mysteriously missing. She knew Trahearne and Albas weren’t angry, at least- and Gixx knew why she’d been gone, though she suspected Ev was his response to her taking so long to get back. The rest of them, though- the rest of them knew Scarlet, connected her to Aerin before Zori’d even begun to think about it- and, with Aerin as a point of reference... she only respected them more, now. She... owed them the Commander-

“You, uh... on the trail of that other one?”

Zori blinked, turning back to the innkeeper charr. “...You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“The other sylvari. Figured you’d be together, since she was askin’ about the same thing.” Martinus raised a paw to mark a... rather short height. “Small little thing, sorta...weirdly peppy, given the destruction. Helped clear a few of the new... ‘wildlife’, though, so I figured I may as well give her the info. Not like she could make it worse.”

Zori... paused, for a long while. So not Aerin, but... no, it wouldn’t be Scarlet, either. Scarlet was dead. Unless it was a-? No, the innkeeper wouldn’t have distinguished them otherwise... She nodded. “Right. And- where did you say the first sylvari bought property...?”

------

“...That can’t be it.”

They stood in front of the door to Scarlet’s former room, everyone but Zori seeming to be on edge after she’d simply... opened the door. It’d been unlocked, nothing had exploded... almost like it was any other, no longer occupied room. Zori stepped aside to let Taimi into the room, protected by Scruffy, sure that she’d know better than anyone how dangerous this could be- she’d studied Scarlet, after all, right? Right- though she wouldn’t stop the rest of them from chasing her in, only following after everyone had rushed inside. Opportune time for a trap, but... still, nothing sprung.

“I... don’t understand. This stuff should’ve been stolen ages ago without a defense system, this is a goldmine,” Came Taimi’s voice- now uncorrupted by Scruffy as she sat atop the golem, looking around the room for clues.

“...I... think it’s been tampered with,” Zori began, slowly, straightening herself a bit more, abruptly, as everyone’s gazes turned to her. “According to the innkeeper, someone got here before any of us.”

“Another sylvari,” Marjory added- and Zori saw nearly everyone else in the room stiffen, knowing the inevitable connection- like Scarlet, and now...

“Like Aerin?” Rox finished the unspoken question, Zori forcing her fur to lie flat. As tempting as it was... she refused to believe this was relegated solely to sylvari. Not yet. She... couldn’t believe every one of them was capable of this.

“We can’t assume that. I saw Aerin too, but that’s still only two cases- it could still easily be coincidence. And, besides that, I doubt Taimi is the only one interested in Scarlet,” she argued, not quite managing to ease out the defensiveness in her tone, avoiding that... look Ev was giving her again. She... knew she couldn’t keep this up forever, but- not now. She turned to the door, raising a paw, noting the runes scrawled around it- eyes narrowing at a small little deformity. “And, clearly, whoever this was, they were... far more coherent than Aerin. These are explosive runes.” She’d triggered them often enough to recognize them by now- not... not that anyone but Ev had to know that. “And, without opening the door, they managed to disarm them with just a tiny scratch. Meanwhile, Aerin apparently forgot how longbows work.”

“Being smarter than Aerin doesn’t absolve them,” Marjory countered.

“Yeah, just makes ‘em more like Scarlet. Actually smart,” Taimi added, indignantly.

They... weren’t wrong, but... “Well, these runes can’t be the only thing they tampered with. We figure out what’s different, we might find out what they were looking for,” Zori concluded, the tip of her tail twitching as she watched the others discuss among themselves- Taimi quickly offering to stay behind and do the research, the rest of them discussing how safe it would be... as much as Zori admired them for taking down Scarlet, how quick they were to distrust sylvari was... worrying, as understandable as it was by now. Though... granted, whoever this was, they were acting... incredibly suspicious.

---

“Taimi! Taimi, are you alright?”

Zori followed in after Braham, noting his immediate concern for the young asura with a keen admiration- before abruptly noting the... pile of dead mordrem in the doorway that the young norn had just barreled over.

“Y- yeah! Yeah, I got into Scruffy just in time, I’m fine,” came the reply- Zori noticed a small falter in her voice, but... otherwise, she seemed to be doing... fantastic, for having, apparently, barely survived a recent mordrem attack.

“...Did you... give Scruffy some weapons while I wasn’t looking?” Came a question from Rox, having apparently just taken in the mordrem-pile.

“Well, ahah- funny story, that! Not only have I discovered far more things about Scarlet, buuuuut, I’ve also found our mystery burglar!”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it that- just visiting... ‘family’,” Chirped a voice from behind the golem, a small, perfectly pleasant sylvari face peeking out as she introduced herself.

Zori stiffened, guard down for just a moment, eyes wide in honest surprise. “Seremnis?”

------

The ground had started trembling. Rude, quite honestly, to interrupt her in the middle of her study, but Taimi knew better than to see the tremors as anything but an imminent threat, having immediately taken the initiative to climb into Scruffy- she’s be safe there, she was sure. But... still, she watched the door to the small room in anticipation. She could hear the telltale sounds of vines bursting from outside, the... more telltale signs of various people screaming... huh. That was a new voice, wasn’t it? Er... was it? She had to strain to pick it out among everything else, but- she stiffened as something heavy hit the door, the wood already cracking in the single hit. Whatever it was must be...

A little nose poked out of the bookshelf. A... sort of rat-like thing, but clearly not something meant to still be alive- a necromancer’s minion? Taimi watched as it made it’s way to the door, apparently ignoring the sounds on the other side entirely, climbing up the walls, right next to that little scratch before suddenly hacking up a piece of chalk- rubbing it’s little hands over it, then, in a single motion, swiping a chalky, bloody paw across the scratch, completing the rune- just in time, too, as a big, planty form bigger than any Mordrem Taimi had yet seen burst it’s way through the door- only for the entire wooden structure to, rather immediately, explode in its- and, from the looks of what remained- several other mordrem’s faces, sap splattered across the room. Well, that was... dramatic. Seemed the mouse thing exploded with them. But then who-?

She watched as, then, from... apparently nowhere, small slashed cuts made themselves apparent on the fallen mordrem- those that were still moving slightly falling limp, small, green orbs of light rising from their fallen forms, towards another figure that soon made itself apparent as it approached the doorway. Too small to be human, certainly- and, once she was close enough and the dust settled enough, decidedly too planty, too, small spots on the mess of leaves on her head and small lines on her face glowing violet in the sandstorm-dimmed light as she put away... an axe and dagger, it looked like. And, rather abruptly, the sylvari seemed to notice Taimi, too, stiffening where she stood- on top of mordrem corpses- in the doorway, seeming to be in shock for only a moment before an apologetic smile came to her face. “...Ah. Hello, there- and sorry about the doo-hn!”

Taimi huddled further back in Scruffy as she saw another vine burst from the ground, quickly wrapping itself around the small sylvari and constricting. No, no no! That had to be the right sylvari, she couldn’t die now! But- she couldn’t reach her weapons with the vines wrapped around her limbs, quickly reaching for the throat, as Taimi had... soon learned the vines were want to do- and though there evidently weren’t more than... maybe three mordrem left, they seemed to see the signs of a struggle, and leapt for the kill themselves, and- oh, alchemy, the sylvari almost seemed to accept it- not like there was much of a choice, with... that much sap spilling from puncture wounds, tearing wounds from the mordrem hounds...

And, then, there wasn’t quite a sylvari there anymore- the vine twisting up on itself, passing through the dark, smoky form that only faintly resembled something bipedal- that green light rising in streams from the mordrem around it, towards the... thing, an unearthly growl issuing from it as the green light was concentrated and shot towards the now-unsteady mordrem hounds, the vine falling to the ground, limp, in the onslaught- and when the orb hit the hounds, they found themselves rather quickly on fire, turning tail and running- only for the smoky form to send and even smokier, clawed hand after them- disappearing from the growing pile of downed mordrem to appear in front of the fleeing hounds, unleashing a final volley to finish them off- and then, slowly, deliberately, the... thing made it’s way back to the doorway, stopping there, and... then, the smoke... solidated- and, once more, before Taimi stood a sylvari- placing a hand on the doorway to steady herself, breathing hard, using her free hand to rub at her neck. “That is... never going to be pleasant...”

“What. Was. That?!” Taimi’s voice squeaked as she leaned closer to the console, studying the sylvari in front of her. So many secrets, so many questions to ask!

The sylvari looked back- relief holding her expression for a moment as she looked at the golem, then around at the... mostly unharmed room- then, a simple content, if... tired smile regained control as she straightened herself. “I believe it’s termed a ‘shade’, in most circles,” she chirped, watching the asura within the golem- a keen interest of her own hidden carefully behind friendly eyes. “But I really do think a more accurate description would be... carefully controlled, pure, life force. Necromancers tend to have a little extra, after all.”

“Alright! One question only incredibly vaguely answered. Question two- why are you here?”

The sylvari’s smile widened. “Just looking around.” She let a pause hang in the air before continuing. “I know, just as vague- but questions like these are an exchange, aren’t they? You clearly know plenty yourself, smart as you are. Does that sound fair?”

------

“You know her, commander?”

Zori looked to Taimi, immediately stiffening. This was going to be... hard to explain- just. Take a moment to calm down, compose yourself... she could do this, it’d be fine... she glanced back towards Seremnis, catching, just for a moment, a... very knowing look. She was doing this on purpose, wasn’t she. “...Sort of. She’s part of the pact, and I saw her... pretty often around Orr...? But we don’t... talk. Much.”

“I don’t think that means we can trust this,” muttered Braham.

“...But Trahearne does know her, and he trusts her,” Zori continued- catching the momentary look of surprise on Seremnis’ face. Did she... not know that...? “...And I’d trust his judgement more than anyone’s,” she concluded firmly. The rest still looked... worried, but... she hoped that if she made her decision sound final enough, it’d mean something. As off-putting as Seremnis was, Zori didn’t doubt that she’d done her best to support the pact- and, from what she’d heard from Trahearne about her wyld hunt... joining the team doing research into the new dragon made sense. She just... wasn’t sure how to tell that to the rest of them...

“Plus, she showed me the super-secret cave behind the bookshelf, with the condition that we shared info- and I convinced her to wait until the rest of you showed up to do anything.”

Sounded more like the conditions of joining the team than anything to Zori. Terming it as an exchange... she recognized negotiation tactics when she heard them. Why couldn’t she just... ask, normally? Did she think this was some sort of exclusive... Zori remembered that knowing glance, and swallowed. She was... doing the same thing Zori was, wasn’t she? Putting on a face for the rest of the team. It... really was that simple, wasn’t it. Zori took a breath, moving forwards. “Well- I’ll... we should probably sweep through the cave first, make sure it isn’t trapped, since she’s a apparently good at disarming these things,” She decided, moving through the room towards the bookshelf- already moved aside to reveal a small, steep staircase.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind,” Seremnis chirped in agreement, stepping back to allow Zori through- the both of them heading through to the cave without much further argument, beyond an impatient Taimi telling them to hurry up and vague murmurs of further discussion quickly disappearing behind them.

Zori let her posture relax a little as they entered the cave, letting out a breath. Flames, that was... tense.

“Sorry for the abrupt introduction, but I... figured you’d all be better off without having to worry about another Scarlet,” Seremnis apologized quietly. “You seemed like you already had a lot on your mind.”

Zori winced. “Yeah... I- I really, really should have been there to help with Scarlet, but-”

“That wasn’t something you could help.”

“Maybe, but... I need to make it up to them somehow. It was a mess. A... traumatizing mess, probably.” Zori let out a long breath. “...The sort of thing I hoped would die with Zhaitan.”

“...And if this all is any indication, Mordremoth will only be worse.”

Zori let out a snort. “No pressure, right?”

Seremnis stopped, giving the commander a small smile. “...If it makes you feel any better, I did bring snacks.”

Zori blinked, then gave her a smile back, relaxing with another long breath. “Oh, thank flames, some good news.”

#gw2commanderweek #opposite day #zori sunblade #seremnis #charr #sylvari #rox #taimi #braham #marjory #aerin #lws2 #death by strangulation #death #don't worry she got better it's fine #also wow this turned out a whole lot longer than I thought it would #whoops #but yeah that's when seremnis first enters the group for realsies #by dying in front of a child #please do not try this at home #at least snacks make everything better #the perks of becoming a chef in your 'spare' time are many #just a little slightly late don't mind meeeeeee #also i went a little abstract with the prompt #but yeah at this time neither seremnis nor zori were really acting like themselves #because to both of them this whole group really was the cool kids club #and neither of them have any idea how to interact with the cool kids club #also sorry for not including ev as much as i probably should #but she's not actually. my character #and i have nnnno idea how to write her

3 notes · View notes

seouledbysisi · 5 years

Text

Ambitious Dreams

Chapter Five

Nova sat at the desk continuously tapping her pen on it. Not gonna be here long? I’ll show her! I’m just getting started! She thought. She couldn’t understand why this Lee chick was being such a bitch to her. What had she ever done to her?

Suddenly an energetic force slammed into the chair next to her. It nearly gave her an heart attack. “What the f-“

The force held her hand out. “Hi! I’m Elle. We haven’t officially met yet but I’m the other intern. . .well i used to be before you got here. Now I’m a junior style consultant! It’s really nice to meet you!” The girl blabbed and talked like rapid fire. Nova could barely keep up.

Nova caught her breath. “Do you always pop up like this?”

“Ah, sort of. I’m really sorry if I startled you. I just saw your work and I really wanted to congratulate you! I was not that good when I first got here. You have natural talent and that’s hard to find in this industry. I mean anyone can go to school to learn fashion but that doesn’t mean that they have that IT factor, ya know?”

Nova nodded and simply stared at her. “What makes you think I have it?”

“It’s written all over those photos and trust me I know how hard it can be to style artists like them.” She giggled a little.

Nova eyed her. “You styled them before?”

“Oh no! I’d give anything to do it though. I mean I probably wouldn’t even make it through the session from passing out!” Elle held her heart.

Nova chuckled a bit. This girl was too cute. “Which one is it?”

Elle cut her smile off. “What do you mean?”

“Which of those guys turns your wheels?”

“Neither-I just get flustered around cute guys.”

“Mhm and which guy in particular do you find cute?” Nova probed.

Elle’s cheeks began to turn a reddish tint. “I mean they’re all really handsome-“

“Which one is it, Elle?! Just tell me!” God she prayed ‘Marz’ nor ‘Ash’ came out of this girl’s mouth.

Elle snickered again. “Changmo.” She said under her breath.

Nova burst out laughing. “Really?!”

“Yeah. What? Do you not think he’s cute?”

“Yeah he’s definitely a looker but if you met him, I don’t think he’d be your type.” Nova revealed.

Elle stared at the carpeted floor. “Or what you mean is I wouldn’t be HIS type. . .”

Nova sighed. She sure had a way of saying the wrongest things. “No I didn’t mean it like that. I mean I did but not in the way you took it. You just don’t seem like the kind of hit it and quit it type of girl. I could be reading you all wrong though.”

“I could be into some hit and quit action!” Elle tried to convince.

“That doesn’t even sound right coming out of your mouth.” Nova simply stared at her.

“I had a one night stand in college thank you very much!”

Nova smirked. “And how many have you had since then?”

Elle looked strangely. “None- but”

Nova tossed her arms up. “But nothing! You’re not a one shot type of girl and that’s totally fine! I’m not either. I catch feelings pretty easily so I don’t drive down that road too often.”

Elle gave her a small smile. “It’s not like I’ll ever meet Changmo or any of them anyway so at least in my dreams he’d be the relationship type.”

Nova nodded. “He can be anything you want him to be, that’s the beauty of dreams. But some dreams do come true.”

Elle stood up to leave. “Well I won’t hold you from your work. It was nice talking to you!” She started to walk away.

“Hey- would you be interested in going to the grand opening of that new amusement park?” Nova asked her.

Elle clapped her hands in excitement. “Sure! Wait, really? You wanna hang out with me?”

Nova nodded. “Sure. I think you’re pretty cool.”

Elle couldn’t resist smiling. Most people at work could take her vibrant personality. It was a force to be reckoned with but she couldn’t help that she had so much bottled up happiness and energy. “I think you’re absolutely cool too. I’ll be there.” She hurried off.

Nori sat in front of her computer, editing some pictures she had taken for the magazine. Her phone began to ring. Harry. She groaned.

“I know I wasn’t there when you probably made it but I couldn’t be late for work! Unlike you I have a 9-5.” She answered with an attitude. “You can come by when I get off to get her.”

“I already have her. That’s why I was calling.” He revealed.

Nori thought for a minute. “How did you get in my apartment?”

“Nori, you never took your key back. So since I needed Holly I figured you wouldn’t mind!”

Nori hurriedly shut her office door. “What the hell, Harry! You can’t just come into my house whenever you feel like it. There’s a line that has been drawn!”

“Well she’s my dog and I needed her. I haven’t seen her in over a month so excuse me for doing the only thing that I could.”

Nori chuckled. “I need my key back! As soon as possible.”

“You act like I’m going to just come in and out of your house all the time. This was a one time thing, calm down!”

“What if I had’ve been in there with another man, what then?!”

The line went quiet.

“Hello?” She all but yelled.

“Yeah I’m here. I’ll get your key back to you.”

“Thank you.” She sighed.

Harry cleared his throat. “I’ll drop it off tonight. I need a favor though. I would ask someone else but I trust your work. I need a photographer for this new album I’m about to drop, when are you available?”

“Umm- I have a opening some time next week. How soon are we talking?” She asked. She was shocked. She kind of figured they wouldn’t work together anymore since they had broken up.

“Next week should be good. This won’t be too weird for you, right?”

Nori giggled. “It’s all money to me, I spend it no matter who I work with to get it. We can do business.”

“See you tonight.” He said dryly and cut the line.

A few days later

The ladies all met up at the amusement park instead of riding together.

Nova

Nori

Nova ran up to Nori at the entrance gate. “Gosh, there’s so many people here!” She looked around at all the bodies.

Nori nodded and squinted as the sun caught her eyes. “Too many people. Good thing we have these fast passes.”

“Do I invited a friend from work. Hope that’s okay with you!”

“Sure. The more the merrier!”

About ten minutes later Elle ran up to them. “Hey y’all! Traffic was horrible, sorry I’m late!”

Elle

Nova shrugged. “You’re fine. We already have our tickets so we’ll just wait right here for you to get yours, okay?”

“Oh no honey I come prepared. I ordered my ticket online so I wouldn’t have to wait!” She snapped her fingers.

Nori held her hand up for a high-five. “That’s what I’m talking about, I like you already!”

“Good! Any friend of Nova’s is a friend of mines too!”

They all walked through the gates.

“So what time does Hyoeun perform?” Nova asked as she checked her watch.

Nori grabbed her phone and dialed him up. The phone rang once and he answered which shocked her. It was a lot of noise in the background. “Hyoeun?! You there?”

“Yeah, sorry they’re being loud. What’s up? You here?” He stepped outside the tent so he could hear better.

“Yeah we’re here! Where are you?” Nori asked.

“Just go to where you see the big tents. There will be security but I’m going to meet you at the entrance so they will let you through!” He said and hung up.

Nori turned to the ladies. “We’re going to the artist tents! Let’s go!” She squealed.

Elle’s nerves began to rise up a bit. “okay guys I guess I should admit this now but I’ve never met a guy that’s famous. Like I always end styling for women and that’s not really as nerve recking as this is. Like I might drop to the floor at first sight, just saying!”

Nori stared at her for a moment. She was thinking this was a joke. “Okay well don’t do that! Even if you’re not cool you gotta make them think you are, that way you have the upper hand. Okay?”

Elle took a deep breath. “How do I do that?”

“I have an alter ego and I use her for moments when I’m not feeling confident. I channel her to help myself through hard situations.”

Elle nodded. “Okay....?”

“Be a Queen! A goddess! Make those men feel like you’re a boss and being around them doesn’t phase you! I mean honestly they’re all just normal guys so it’s nothing to it. Once you get over the initial shock you’ll be fine.” Nori patted her shoulder.

Nova smiled at their interaction. Nori always had a way of making you feel bigger than you actually were. “Take her advice, it’ll get you through I promise. I’m a witness.”

“You rocking with the big dogs now!” Nori told her and walked in front of them to the security. She noticed Hyoeun talking to the man. “Damn, he looks so good!” She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. “Like all I need is for him to talk more and we’ll be so good!” She stared in his direction.

Nova pulled her arm. “Girl come on!”

Hyoeun waved them over and they walked back to the tents with him.

The first guy that Elle saw was Changmo. She immediately cradled Nova’s arm. “Oh my Gosh! You hang out with Changmo?! Like ya’ll hang out with these guys forreal? Like that’s Changmo!!!” She whisper yelled.

Nova giggled. “Calm down. You’re fine just calm down. Remember you’re a boss lady, he doesn’t phase you. . .not one bit!”

Changmo chuckled behind them. “Oh my gosh, y’all hang out with Changmo!” He mocked in a joking way.

Nova rolled her eyes. “Don’t be an asshole today. You’re better than that!”

“Am I though?!” He smirked as he eyes Elle. She was fresh meat in his eyes. He was down for some action.

“Well maybe not but for her sake at least act like it.” Nova punched his arm jokingly.

Changmo laughed. “I like it when you talk rough to me!” He winked.

Ash came up beside Nova and draped his arm over her shoulder. “Watch that eye, Mo!” He directed at Changmo.

“My bad I forgot you already marked her as yours.” He laughed.

Nova rolled her eyes and removed his arm. “What if I don’t want to be marked?” She glanced over at Marz.

“You can’t undo what’s already done and that playing hard to get act is getting boring.” Changmo continued.

Ash elbowed him in his stomach. “Dude! Do you ever stop?” He laughed.

Changmo buckled over in pain. “Damn man, did you have to hit me that hard?” He groaned.

Nova stepped close in Changmo’s face. “Who says I’m playing?” She locked eyes with him.

He blinked a little. He could swear she was flirting but no- she wouldn’t do that would she? Not in front of Ash or Marz for that matter.

“Cat got your tongue now? You’re normally big talk!” She smirked.

Changmo looked away. “You need to back up.” He said calmly. He didn’t know what game she was playing but he liked it.

“Or what?”

“Or you’re gonna get something that you’re not bargaining for!” He replied coolly.

She chuckled at this point. “That’s something that you’ll NEVER give to me.”

He was at a loss for words. He honestly couldn’t think of a comeback. She had won.

“Wow! Changmo. THE Changmo does get flustered. Hm.” She smirked and walked away.

Elle hurriedly followed behind her. “What was that?!” She asked in an irritated tone.

Nova cocked an eyebrow. “What was what?”

“You flirted with him right in my face after I told you that he was my fave. Like I know I don’t have a chance but still.”

Nova shook her head. “I don’t want Changmo. He’s not my type. That was getting my point across. Guys like him have to be knocked down a notch to truly understand the worth of a woman. You can thank me later.”

Elle processed her words.

“Hey, I was rude back there. I shouldn’t have mocked you. My bad!” Changmo directed at Elle.

Elle’s eyes widened. “You don’t have to apologize, I know I sounded like a crazed fan. It’s just I love your music and I never imagined that I’d meet you especially in this type of setting!” She looked around at everyone just chilling and conversing. They really were normal people.

“You listen to my music?”

“Maestro is my favorite song!” She exclaimed with a huge smile on her face.

Changmo smiled. “That’s what’s up! Thank you!”

“No, thank you for creating good music.”

Changmo nodded and rubbed her shoulder and walked away.

Nova tapped her chin while staring at Elle. “See. I knocked him off his high horse for a moment and that allowed you to get an actual conversation with him.”

“The best conversation ever!” She clapped her hands. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. That was really stupid of me.”

“It’s cool. Guys make women crazy!”

Ash appeared. “And you make me crazy! Why you be playing me?”

Nova chuckled. “Are you a Xbox?”

Ash groaned. “Forreal! You must think I am cause I keep catching L’s from you and I don’t get it!”

Nova rolled her eyes. “What are you talking about, Ash?”

“Like am I ugly? Do my breath stink? Like I don’t see a problem with me but obviously you do cause you be dodging me like I’ve got some type contagious virus or something!”

Elle listened intently. “You’re definitely not ugly. And your hygiene seems fine.” She told him. “Nova, what’s the issue? You got this fine ass man wanting to wine and dine you or whatever the case is and you bugging?!” She was absolutely stunned. Maybe guys liked when girls played hard to get but if Changmo was all in her grill like this she wouldn’t be able to resist him.

I- just-I. Honestly, I don’t see why you keep trying. You have girls throwing themselves at you left and right and you’re stuck on me? I’m not a one night type of girl and in this world that you work in, that’s what guys want and I ain’t with it.” Nova shrugged.

Ash chuckled. “Who says I’m with that? I know you and Marz got a situation or whatever-“

“Hold up! No we don’t. I have more of a situation with you then I have with him and I’m really getting sick of people saying stuff about me and him. He has a whole ass girlfriend sitting beside him so no there ain’t no situation and at this rate there won’t ever be. He don’t like me. He stares at me like he wants to make me disappear so quite frankly I’d really appreciate everyone to stop mentioning me and him in the same sentence!” She sighed.

Ash eyes bulged. “Whoa! Sorry. It’s just I feel like something was there and I interfered and that’s why you’re holding back from me.” He shrugged.

Elle took all of this in but she was lost in translation. Evidently a whole lot of crap had happened and no one was saying the specifics.

“No, it’s definitely the age thing. Like I’m a commitment type of girl. I like being in a relationship when I like someone. I don’t like sharing, period. You don’t seem like you’re at that point in life.”

“I mean I’m not saying that I want you to be my girlfriend today or anything but I’m not saying that I don’t want you to be either. I know there’s a lot of weirdness happening right now but I just want to take you out, get to know the real you. See where this rollercoaster takes us. I like you. I think you one of the coolest girls I’ve come across in a long time.” Ash admitted.

Nova sighed. “I don’t know. You got groupies kid. I don’t know if I could handle that.”

“The only girl I’m checking for is you though. I don’t cheat. I haven’t even talked to another girl in the past two weeks since I met you and you ain’t even giving me no shots. That’s loyalty.”

“Give him a chance. Age ain’t nothing but a number plus he mature and he FINE as hell!” Elle added.

Nova looked around. Marz had his earbuds in was watching her every move. “Okay. Set it up!”

Ash paused. “Really? You gonna go on a date with me?”

“Sure.” She shrugged.

He watched her eyes. They were on Marz. “You know what I’m going to pretend like you’re not looking at another guy while talking to me because this might be the only chance I get to take you out.”

She diverted her eyes back to him. “I’m sorry but I hate the way he glares at me. Like what the fuck did I ever do to him?”

Ash wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “Probably cause he can’t take his eyes off of you and it’s causing problems in his relationship. That’s my theory.” He whispered in her ear.

His breath tickled her ear and sent chills down her spine. She kept it cool. She couldn’t let him know that he was affecting her. She couldn’t find the nerve to remove his arms from around her though.

Nori and Hyoeun walked over.

“What? Y’all look comfortable.” Hyoeun spoke.

Nova rolled her eyes. “Well if I fight him off of me he will pout so I may as well give him his time to shine for the moment.” She laughed.

Ash chuckled. “I gotta take what I can get, she’s feisty and stubborn.”

She tried to wiggle out of his grip. “Let go!” She giggled.

“Never!” He whispered.

Nori gave her a knowing look and winked.

Marz walked up. “Hyoeun we have about fifteen minutes and we’re up.”

He nodded.

“Well hi to you too!” Nori said sarcastically.

Marz gave her a half smile. “Hey. I mean I’ve been here and no one has spoken to me the whole time y’all have been in this tent.”

“I figured I shouldn’t.” Nova admitted.

Marz raised his eyebrows as he eyes her and Ash’s interaction. “Why is that?”

“Because the look in your eyes let’s me know that I need to stay far away.” Nova told him.

He laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s like you hate me and plus your girlfriend already cried because of what Changmo said about me....and you or whatever so I don’t want to make things worse for y’all. I don’t disrespect women.”

Marz smirked. “She’s okay.” He said and began walking back over to his girlfriend. He stopped. “And I don’t hate you.”

#ambition #leellamarz #ash island #changmo #hash swan #keem hyoeun #the quiett #k hiphop #fanfic #stories #soft hours #seoul #illionaire

17 notes · View notes