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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

Text

Fucktoy

Commission long overdue for the lovely @ago-fucks featuring Revenant/Reader and a certain sex toy that’s a craze with all the cool kids out there.

Fleshlights, I’m talking fleshlights.

Summary: Revenant is best when he's tied up and begging, at least that's what you think. Or. In which you buy a new toy for your murder robot boyfriend and you get to test it out in the best ways involving bondage, begging, and getting to hear him say things no one else would get to hear.

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog the fics you like :D

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked on sight!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Revenant/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, bondage, praise, mild degradation, reader is gender neutral and has a vulva and is specifically written as short and chubby, lots of Rev/Robot headcanons happening in here, wireplay, lingerie (on reader), Revenant has a cock attachment

Words: 3.2k

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A little surprise was needed every now and again, you thought.

Revenant had been doing so well lately getting adjusted to this period in his life. In the arena, he was a menace to be seen, snarling and growling, shedding blood and laughing about it like it was his favorite thing. But, at home, sure he still snarled and growled- it was in his voice box to do so after all, but it was more of a grumble as he accepted your eager hands to drag him down to your much shorter height to press a kiss to his face plate and welcome him home.

Like a feral cat, he’d had to warm up to you. You were one of the Apex Games medical experts when they arrived injured. Specializing in mechanics and secondly in human flesh, you were hired to work mostly on Pathfinder, and then of course when he joined, Revenant. Special repairs were to be had for each model, and oh did Revenant not like anyone touching him. You had made it clear that consent was strict.

You would not touch him, unless he was comfortable with you doing so.

~Rest under the cut~

Perhaps that had made him warm up to you quicker, with giving him the choice so he could have control on the situation. He’d grumbled the first time, but he’d let you patch him up at least, and then the second time had snarled he didn’t need your help before begrudgingly leaning to the side to show where a cord might have torn.

And to present relationship? Now he cuddled up to you like an affection starved feline. Perhaps feline wasn’t a good word for him, maybe an arachnid with how his long, spidery limbs wound around you. Revenant had grumbled the first time that he hadn’t powered down in centuries, quite literally. Because he didn’t really know he could. But after some research on simulacrum, you found he had the ability to and now one of his favorite things was joining you in bed.

So now? Now you were both looking on your laptop for new toys. You’d wanted to find something to accommodate his preferred attachment lately of a cock, since dildos and strap ons wouldn’t work with said attachment. Vibrators did pretty well, but you wanted something more...hands on.

“What about one of these?” You had asked, offering the fleshlight section of the site. You’d been able to watch him hum curiously, his optics spinning as he admired the choices. Before he’d asked to see them in use. Which required looking up videos to give examples and being able to see him eagerly ask you to go back so he could pick one.

With that out of the way, you placed one in the cart and waited for him to power down for the night before you’d snuck your phone and placed another thing in for yourself and ordered it express. Carefully maneuvering yourself back into his eager arms.

Then it had been the desperate waiting game.

The box arrives at your apartment’s doorstep discreetly packaged. You know Revenant is getting ready for a match so you text him eagerly from your holopad to let him know that his gift is here, and asking if he of course wants to try it out tonight. You bite your lip after you hit send, eagerness through your chest as you take to picking up around your home to ignore your own giddy feelings. You had today off, and probably good you did anyhow considering how excited your face must have been.

It would be hours before he replied, but once you finally get that notification for his text, the sun has already started to set. You’d been tuned into the games, watching the cameras pick up on his victory with Bloodhound and Caustic at his side. Curled up on the corner of the couch and able to watch him nail Octane between his goggle’s lenses with a peacekeeper. Gory, perhaps, but you were a medical and mechanical professional, you’d seen worse.

A solid, three burst knock makes you perk up. You’d been comfortable at home in some shorts and a hoodie, nothing special nor nothing you couldn’t answer the door in. You swing off the couch, padding across the floor and open it wide open to smile up at the bot at the door.

“Hi, baby, saw your win! Congratulations on being champion!” You practically coo your praise to him, stepping by to let him in as you shut and lock the door behind you. Revenant lets his optics wander the apartment, cleaned and picked up, before finally looking downwards at you. He was already tall enough, but you were short by nature, meaning your head met about his chest plate. He’d always thought it was cute.

Eagerly, you reach up for him, making a ‘gimme’ motion until he relents and leans down, letting you cup his face plate and peck a kiss on his silicone lower lip. “No scratches on you? I know I wasn’t there today; Theodore should have had you covered.” You murmur the last bit, releasing him so you could circle him like the worried partner you were.

Revenant huffs in return, optics rolling, “Is that his name? I didn’t ask. You know very well no one can fix me as well as you can.” His voice growls in a low grumble, but you definitely take that last part as a compliment. It’s definitely worth it when you beam up at him from his side, lifting his arm briefly to check for the damages done to inner circuiting. The smallest brush of your fingers against the thick wirings of his right hip makes him make a soft noise, causing you to immediately retract and for him to be disappointed. Not that he’d show it.

“You can’t be picky if you’re damaged,” You remind him, moving to in front of him with your arms crossed, watching him mimic your stance as he goes to sass you again but you’re quick on him, “And don’t you say it’s because I know better, he has just as many qualifications as me. You just like me.” Your voice is a tease, a smile on your face he can’t be mad at.

It’s a slow walk to you room as you talk idly amongst yourselves. But as you make it to the bed, you pipe up quietly. “You still want to try, right? You know I’ve never minded if you don’t want to, I’d love you no less.” With a gentle hand to the curve of the metal at his hip and your eyes flicking up to search his optics for tension. Revenant had been...skittish when it came to sex, his biggest fear had been that he’d hurt you. Nowadays it was a way to be intimate, but you still felt the need to triple check just in case he wasn’t feeling up to it.

He lets out a snort, a sort of choked growl in his voice box to mimic the sound. A hand over yours settles your nerves with his voice rumbling, “Yes. I picked the damned thing after all. Besides I,” He pauses there for a moment, seeming to struggle before he lets out in a softer tone, bringing your hand up to his face plate so he could mimic a kiss to your knuckles. “I enjoy our intimate time together. Or whatever frilly way you want me to say ‘fuck’.”

It eases the tension in your body, a laugh choking from you as you move the hand brought to his face to cup his face plate, running your thumb on his silicone lower lip. Revenant’s optics flicker to the bed, clearly curious as to where you HAD said toy. But, your grin must answer his question, “Get comfortable on the bed and I’ll go get ready. Remember your safe words and signals?”

It’s with a soft huff Revenant does as told. Red, yellow, and green were always easy to remember. The hand signals were simple enough, depending on what was hindered. Two slaps to any nearby object or two slams of his foot were silent ways to say stop.

You wait for him patiently, reminding him of what a good boy he is and leaving the room to let him undoubtedly get his attachment on. As well as to sneak into the bathroom to find the freshly cleaned toy, rope you’d had lain out, and your outfit of choice.

Your body was always on the plumper side, but you didn’t have an issue with it- neither did Revenant at that. Your lovely body is dressed in a dark blue, lace baby doll night gown. The night gown part was split right beneath your chest with a lovely little bow, splaying across your sides and ending at the swells of your thighs. Scalloped straps pulled up over your shoulders, letting your plentiful cleavage be shown. The panties were a matching thong, with thigh highs to boot.

Perfect.

When you walk back out into the bedroom, Revenant’s reaction is almost feral. The way the static in his voice box goes lower with the low growl he lets out, his optics seeming to spin in almost a bird-like fashion with how darker orange fills the space and then thins out. It makes you feel...wanted.

“Down boy,” You playfully coo, letting your thumb slide across the rope in one hand to ground yourself and remind yourself who was in charge tonight. Especially when he growls again, his attachment clearly hard with the nodes on the sides lit up a bright red. “Remember who you belong to tonight.” You remind him.

But, God, does his cock look delicious. A black thick silicone with red textured mini spikes lining the sides as well as lit up nodes curling up to the head. Five inches long with a three-inch girth, it was plenty to take, Revenant always liked to watch your face contort trying to take him, but tonight you weren’t going to be taking him. No, no, you were going to make him cry with a toy and make him beg to have you.

The next steps are simple. Tying him up. The rope goes easily across metal, tying carefully between joints and pressing kisses where they meet. You tie him on his back, wrists to ankles and forcing his long legs up and apart with his wrists. Bound and exposed, his legs stay open and high, bent at the knee comfortably without it being too complicated. You praise him all during it, soft kisses on his ankles and wrists as you duck to the side to grab the toy and settle back in front of him.

The wiring on his inner thighs is always a go to so you start there. Caressing the thin wires that connect the joints to a thick metal core. He immediately tenses, mouth falling open to reveal sharp metal teeth and the way his throat echoes like a long hallway when he groans. You smirk a bit, tracing your fingers up closer to his hip where a thicker bundle of wires rest, letting him shake briefly as your nails trace up the inner silicone lining to form a hip bone.

His cock jerks with a gentle grunt in his throat. His cum reserves must have been full, considering a small bead of translucent red cum drips down his cock.

“What a good boy. Already filled without even being asked?” You begin small, letting your hands wander down his hips to the center of your attention. His hips attempt to come up to no avail in his exposed position, allowing you to trace one nail up his cock and watching it jerk again weakly. “You must have been thinking about this all day.”

The response to you is a weakened growl, a reverberating sound as if he was in a cave that trails off into a breathy, high sound. It doesn’t sound human, no surprise there, but it does make you grin.

A few pumps and he’s set on throwing his head back to huff to himself in pleasure. Revenant was always sensitive, had always been, you imagined centuries of no touch would do that to you. But, even now, it seems he’d be flushed all over if he could. He’d probably be fucking your fist at this rate if he could even move them, poor thing.

It’s not much more teasing before you glide the lubed fleshlight up the underside of his cock. Letting the faux lower lips frame him and sliding it up to the head. His hips twitch, his head jerking to the side and exposing the sensitive wirings of his throat with the shift of his cowl.

The wet slide of it on his cock is a tight, tight fit. Something that you can only imagine as your greedy eyes take in the crimson toy swallowing his thick shaft with a wet ‘shlick’ as it tightly envelops him. You can feel the way he jerks in it, watching the tips of his fingers curl against his ankles and his optics flickering a few times before seeming to buzz back to existence.

“Fuck-” He whines out, a shaky sound in his chest that sounds distant with the way his head rolls to the side and causes his wiring to shift for his voice box. “Fuck-- ” He croaks out again with a creak to his throat as you begin to shift the toy upwards to the head and slide it back down.

“That’s a good boy, that’s what I like to hear,” You praise him, feeling yourself affected as well as your breathing as you begin fucking the toy on him. Each wet slide is met with a wet, soft slap of the toy hitting his pelvis. The creak of the metal of his joints and how he whines and growls in soft, panted, breathless little noises. You about take him out when you twist the toy and slam it back down onto him, hearing him yowl much like an animal in heat.

“So pretty for me,” You continue with your own voice breathless, “So easy to make you feel good, my little toy.” You use the name carefully, eyes flickering to his face to gauge his reaction.

It’s positive, to say the least, where his head flings back and you know he’d be fucking into your grip if he could. Instead, he’s made to squirm and jerk in his bonds, panting heavily as you stroke him with the tight, wet little toy again and again.

“You sound beautiful, baby.” You murmur.

Just to watch him cry out and give the telltale signs he’s close. With low whines in his throat fading off to low, breathed out growls. Huffing and huffing until-

You stop.

And Revenant cries out like a wounded beast. Optics flickering until they land on you and he snarls like you’ve deprived him of his treat. You imagine he doesn’t like it when you smile, holding the fleshlight juuuust about the tip of his cock where he’s leaking the translucent fluid, shiny and wet from the toy and oh so wanting.

“Give. It. To. Me.” He snarls out each word like a threat. But kind of hard to be threatening with your dick so hard and you’re an exposed simulacrum tied up in pretty ropes.

“I want to hear you beg,” You grin in turn, tilting your head coyly when he snarls again. “I want to hear you say you’re my cutest fuck toy.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Revenant scoffs before he pauses at your tone, tempting and low. His optics shift away briefly. Embarrassment would be hard to see in someone like him, but you can tell from the silence and the way he’s breathing despite not needing to. He had his safe words, he had his signals, but you have the feeling he’s not even thinking about those. Instead, you can see him trying not to be humiliated. So, you give him a little encouragement with a rub of the toy just to watch him shudder.

That sparks his brattiness. He tries to buck up to no avail, tries to roll and shake and hump, for not.

When that doesn’t work, he tries again, but adds in, “Please let me cum! Let me cum, goddamnit! Goddamn you- let me- let me cum!” He sounds so cute when he does it, desperate and wanting. You give him some slack, one pump of the toy just to get his hopes up and to hear him moan with static tracing the edges only to hold it just above the head again.

“Fuck!” He snarls, desperation dripping in his tone in an almost sob. Almost.

Your hand comes up, gripping his throat and pressing your thumb into the junction of his two thickest wires. A small amount of pressure on the thinner one makes him feel like he’s going to get light headed, a well pressed pressure point as you growl at him and begin jerking him with the toy in a nice, but not enough pace.

“You’re my favorite, cutest fuck toy. Say. It.” You punctuate each word with a harsh slam of the toy twice before holding it at the head. No matter how much he cries out and swears, you don’t move, letting his voice creak and crack until you release the wiring.

“I’m your cute-cutest fuck toy! I’m y-your- AH!” Revenant near about wails it out, only to choke when you begin fucking him with the toy earnestly. Letting his breaths come out in repeated, short snarls until he’s cumming with a long sound fading off into nothing.

The cum drips from the end of the toy into your hand. You give it a few more jerks for good measure, just to watch him jerk and huff in overstimulation before you slowly drag it off with a wet noise. You set it on the nightstand, telling yourself to deal with it later as you work the ropes off of him and set them to the side.

You lie down on your back, letting him come to you like a clingy little spider. One arm wraps around your middle, his head coming to rest on your chest as you cup the back of his neck and stroke the metal forming his spine. You caress him gently, gently nudging him for him to look up at you so you can kiss the flatness of his skeletal nose and smile at him.

“You did a good job, baby.” You murmur adoringly, kissing the corner of his mouth to match. “Thank you for indulging me. You feeling alright?”

“Just peachy.” His voice comes out as a hoarse growl, no doubt overusing his poor voice box. But even then, it makes you laugh, kissing his forehead once again.

“What about you?” He murmurs after a moment, his finger hooking into the thin waistband of your panties and making your cheeks flush. “Would be a damn shame to not put any of this to use...”

“Bold for someone who just said he was my fuck toy.” You cheekily toy back, watching his head snap up and his optics widening and thinning out in a quiet threat.

You’d pay for it later, but for now? For now he just grumbles, shoving his head back onto your chest.

Good boy.

#Revenant #Revenant x Reader #Apex legends #apex lemons #nsft #lemon #commissions #princess writing #WHY DID I HAVE SO MANY OLD BOPS HELLO?? THIS IS SO GOOD??

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haunted-by-catholic-guilt · 3 years

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Bleed Her Out Before I Wake

Hey! This is pretty heavy on drug use and a very temporary character death in form of flatling.

TW FOR SEMI GRAPHIC VOMITING, DRUG USE, LACED DRUGS, IMPLIED SELF HARM, DISORDERED EATING DUE TO STRESS, VOMITING BLOOD

Ft- Jet and Rita QPR, Vespa being soft, and Peter with EDS, its not important to the fic but it is important to me.

title from Heroin by Badflower

“Mista Steel?”

She stood at a cracked doorway in the Carte Blanche, the light was on in the bathroom but other than that it was complete darkness around her.

In the eerily lit bathroom, was her ex-boss and long-time friend, retching into the toilet for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Go ‘way Rita- Don- Don’t wanna see this”

She sighed, it had been a bad day for all of them, involving Sola at a party he was undercover at a party with Peter, the subsequent drug-taking that occurred there so they wouldn't seem suspicious.

As soon as Rita got word on what happened, which unfortunately happened after the heist, all hell broke loose.

Buddy immediately pulled them out of the heist, despite Juno’s protests, saying he felt fine despite the fear in his voice and his shaking body.

Peter absolutely did not agree with his girlfriend, his facade almost cracking as he dragged them out of their, Jet waited in the Ruby 7 outside, his hands were holding the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

By the time they got to the car alone, Juno mumbled something about feeling dizzy, and his breathing was off, hitching at each inhale.

As soon as they got to the ship, Juno pushed away from the others, into his room.

No matter who told him to, he refused to come out of his room.

Rita knew Mista Steel needed his privacy, she remembers the first withdrawal he went through with her, she doesn’t know if it was sola, alcohol, or something else though, he was too out of it to tell her.

In their time together, the lady had spent days in her apartment, vomiting and crying and shaking, at one point even being sent into a seizure because of the withdrawal.

This felt different.

It had been years since he’d taken anything, and he didn’t look like he used to after taking something, what was once something that brought him… joy almost, now made him look scared and tired.

“Mista Steel I’ve seen you worse, but I gotta come in, you’ve been alone for hours and I’m gettin worried.”

He groaned before mumbling a quiet ‘come in’.

The sight she saw was not a pretty one.

He was slumped against the wall, his skin was shining with sweat, and he had taken his top off at some point, revealing many scars, some newer, and his makeup was running off.

“Told you it wasn’t pretty.”

Rita shrugged before sitting next to him on the floor, they would need to talk, about what happened, but Mista Still just looked so… tired.

“Drink some water, boss”

She handed him the cup, or tried to, his hands were shaking too much to grab it, so, she helped steady his hands, holding the glass gently to his lips.

“Sorry about this, know I fucked up.”

He wasn’t wrong but also wasn’t right, she simply sighed and set the glass down.

“Alright, come here”

He looked tired, she was too, but he almost immediately slumped against her, seeking out comfort from the past.

It didn’t take him long to start crying.

She ran her hand through his sweat-soaked curls.

“I didn’t wanna- I didn’t- Rita I-“

He was shaking so hard in her arms, someone else was standing outside the bathroom, Ransom, she suspects.

“I know Mista Steel, I know”

His breathing was rough, he swallowed and a wet click came from his throat, he whimpered, curling into Rita.

“Are you gonna be sick again?”

He shook his head, but Rita gently maneuvered him anyway, leaning over the toilet.

He gagged, harsh and painful, nothing coming up except bile, he had been puking all day, nothing to eat or drink.

“Hurts- it- it hurts so much Rita”

She felt her heart shatter into a million little pieces, holding him up and rubbing his back, he was too weak to hold himself up.

“It’s gonna be okay, boss”

She wasn’t sure anymore.

And she really wasn’t when Juno started to cry out in more pain and the dry heaving stopped.

Because now, she was pretty sure he was puking up blood.

She tried to hide the panic in her voice as she called out.

“Uhhh Mista Ransom I know you’re outside the door and I really need you to grab Miss Vespa ‘cause Mista Steel is puking up blood and I don’t think that’s supposed to happen.

You could hear his heart drop.

Within minutes, Peter was back with the medic, even scarier, she wasn’t complaining and Rita was also distantly aware of Jet standing behind her.

Vespa burst through the door, and knelt down in the open area around Mista Steel.

“Damnit Steel”

She motioned for Jet to grab him, but Juno started to squirm and try to escape the people surrounding him.

“Nno fine- ‘m fine”

Vespa growled, but Jet managed to move her out of the way and kneel in front of Juno himself.

“Juno, I know you do not wish to let us help you, but you are very ill, for reasons that are not your fault, and it would help us all if you would please come with us.”

Jets voice and words calmed him down, and he let himself be picked up by Jet.

Jet walked swiftly to the medbay, careful not to jostle him while they walked, Rita considered distantly the protectiveness Jet had of the boss, wondering where it came from, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

“J-Jet lemme down- gon’ be sick”

Vespa cursed and dove for a trash can they were walking past, and Jet carefully set Mista Steel down, the lady’s body crumbling, unable to hold himself up.

Jet realized this, and propped him up, looking slightly uncomfortable at the factor of comforting the lady, but it didn’t take long for Juno to slump over the trash can and start puking.

“Shit”

Vespa cursed, her low voice full of concern, somewhere next to her Mista Ransom made a concerned noise.

“What’s going on?”

Buddy was behind Vespa, towering protectively over all of them.

“Not sure, pretty sure he managed to tear his stomach lining.”

The worry settled over the crew like a heavy blanket, Rita felt tears in her eyes.

“How did it happen so fast, Vespa? Does it not usually take a few days?”

Peter kept his normal composure, worry seeping through.

“Usually, but he’s been sick with nothing in his stomach, and he’s also probably shot most of his organs with his behavior at a young age, wouldn’t be surprised if this isn’t the first time.”

“Fuck”

Juno was still heaving over the can, clearly in pain, too weak to even hold onto the can.

Peter settled on the floor next to his love, the self-control of respecting the privacy the lady clearly wanted was gone and if everyone was honest, Juno didn’t seem to mind.

The thief opened his arms, and Jet helped maneuver Juno into them, where the ex-detective immediately latched onto Peter.

“Hurts- please it-“

Peter shushed him and ran his hands through sweaty hair, rocking him gently.

At some point, though, Vespa noticed something that caused even her to feel worry.

“We gotta get him to the medbay now”

Peter looked down in fear to where Vespa’s eyes were laying, and was horrified to see a large, ugly, black bruise coloring his lady’s stomach, red splotches inside of it.

His lady was bleeding internally.

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Peter could hardly believe the mess they had gotten into.

He really didn’t want to.

At the party, he… he didn’t know, he wasn’t with Juno, he had to use the bathroom, and when he got back His lady may have offhandedly mentioned it but he didn’t even realize until Rita began to scream over the coms.

The look Rita gave him back on the ship made him want to cry.

Juno pulled away from him, wouldn’t let anyone near him as he locked himself in the bathroom.

Peter was scared.

Rita yelled for him to get Vespa and everything moved so fast for the next ten minutes.

And now, Juno was in surgery, hooked into machines galore as Vespa worked over him, filtering a tube down his throat.

Mallory-Weiss Syndrome was one set of words Peter was able to pick out of Vespas growling, a tear in the stomach lining, usually caused by excess vomiting and coughing.

Juno had been ill since the night before, and probably didn’t eat the day of the heist, meaning it was just acid.

Peter felt sick himself.

His lady was hurt because of his lack of focus on a heist.

But what was making him so sick?

It could have been laced, of course, it would’ve caused some nausea likely, but not this, especially with the low dosage, but it could have been his body reacting to the drug entering his system for the first time in so many years or-

“Peter, darling, are you alright?”

Buddy had her hand on his shoulder, and he inhaled shakily.

“I’m.. I’m fine, Captian, worried about Juno is all.”

She pulled him into a hug, and he started to cry despite himself.

“Peter, it’s not your fault, Juno knew what he was doing, Rita and Jet suspect that he didn’t even feel the need to take it because of the temptation, only the safety of the heist.”

Peter pulled away from Buddy, he didn’t deserve the comfort.

“I just- what’s making him so sick?”

Buddy sat in a chair that was pulled up by the medbay door, looking extravagant as ever.

“We’re not sure, Jet mentioned that the fear of becoming addicted again may have sent him into a panic, but my Vespa will run some tests to make sure it wasn’t laced.”

He nodded, looking out the window.

“Ransom, darling, you know it’s not your fault, right?”

He looked down, pursing his lips together.

“It- Captain I left him, it was.”

She sighed, and Peter felt shame prickle in his back.

“Mista Ransom is wasn’t, Mista Steel knew what he was doin”

He didn’t even know when Rita got there, but soon she was hugging him, hardly reaching his chest.

He let himself feel the comfort for a second, before they all went back to waiting quietly outside the medbay, a worried film over the crew of the Carte Blanche.

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Hours must’ve passed before the door to the medbay opened, and the disgruntled medic stood in the door.

“Vespa? Is Juno alright?”

Vespa looked tired, she had blood on her shirt and Peter didn’t think it should be there.

“He’s gonna be okay”

Relief wiped over the crew but the bitter taste of fear stuck in the air.

“It… was bad. The drug was laced. Another chemical. He flatlined. Five minutes”

Peter felt his heart stop.

His Juno died.

“Ransom, you in there?”

Vespa was looking at him, everyone was.

“Juno he- he died?”

Rita was crying, sitting next to Jet, and Vespa had made her way over to Buddy.

“No, well, yes, kind of but he’s not dead anymore.”

He was still worried shitless, but his love was… going to be okay.

“He had a tear in his stomach, the puking caused it, but I’m gonna guess either the drug managed to weaken his stomach lining or his past drug abuse and it’s side effects weakened it, which caused it to bleed internally more. His heart gave out while I was cauterizing the tear. It was messy, but he will make a full recovery.”

Peter was sobbing and felt rather embarrassed by this.

“Ransom, he’s okay, you can even go see him.”

Vespa was being… oddly tender towards him, which made him more uneasy, but he collected himself.

“I- I think I will, Rita, would you like to join me?”

She nodded vigorously and let go of Jet, who she was holding too tightly.

They walked quietly into the room together and the sight scared them both greatly, Juno laying on the small bed, hooked up to more machines than Peter could count, tubes up his nose and one down his throat, pale and sweaty.

“Juno”

Peter was so scared for his love, he was asleep, tired out from the day.

“He uh- he’s gonna be out for a while, I’ll bring the extra cot in here ina bit so you can stay in here and actually get some sleep, I had to intubate him, he’s hooked up to a lot of antibiotics and uh, feeding tube, he’s not gonna be able to eat but he needs nutrients.”

He pulled a chair next to Juno’s sickbed, holding his hand and running hands through his hair.

“Juno I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry my love”

He was crying and he wanted nothing more than for Juno to wipe his tears and tell him it was gonna be okay.

Hours passed with him and Rita sitting by his side, hardly speaking, Jet brought tea, Vespa brought them food, tried to make Peter eat best she could, it didn’t work.

“Ransom, you gotta eat”

He didn’t.

Rita left at some point, Buddy sat with him for awhile too, trying to convince him to sleep and eat, but he wouldn’t, only sitting with Juno, not letting him go.

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Juno pried open his eye, feeling like glue was holding it together, and was greeted by bright lights and a steady beeping sound.

The memories of the past however long it had been came back to him.

The sola, the sickness that followed it, concerned voices surrounding him, Vespa looking down at him, worried as hell.

He tried to turn his head, but the tube down his throat stopped that.

That wasn’t good.

He tried not to freak out, but that failed.

“Calm down or I’m gonna have to sedate you again Steel”

Vespa was above him again, and her face was stern.

Other voices were around him, Rita and Jet were talking at the end of the bed, and Buddy was on the other side of him trying to keep him calm

He couldn’t hear Nureyev.

“Shit- Steel if you don’t stop moving you’re gonna fuck up your throat and I don’t wanna deal with the complaining.”

He tried to stop moving but everything hurt and he needed to run he needed to make sure Nureyev was safe he needed to-

The world went dark.

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

Buddy was happy she finally got Peter to sleep in his bed for a few hours.

Juno looked… terrified, hurting, and scared beyond any way she could describe.

Everyone looked tired.

Her Vespa was clearly worried even, which scared her more saying her outward hate of the detective.

Vespa motioned for everyone to leave, keeping her head down.

Buddy walked over to her once Rita and Jet had left the small medbay, holding her face in one hand and wrapping the other around her, gently tilting up the medics head so she could see her loves eyes.

“Shit, Bud I-“

There were tears in her medics eyes, and Buddy knew that she wasn’t telling them the whole story or situation.

“He’s strong, Vespa, he will be okay”

He needs to be.

Vespa rested her head for a moment on the other woman’s chest, keeping her close, and for just a moment they stayed like that.

“He’s- he’s really bad off, Bud”

She knew, of course, that her lover didn’t hate Juno, or Peter, for that matter, but the whole situation had taken Vespa’s guard down completely it seemed.

Many nights they talked about it, getting Vespa to try and trust them, and Buddy also spent time pointing out the ways he showed his affection towards people, to point out how the lady would make sure to get Rita’s snacks whenever he was planetside, and how he would help Jet whenever he needed it.

Vespa thought about the times he would sit with her, when her eyes darted back and forth and everything was too much and the screaming wouldn’t stop, how he would engage her in conversation as much as he could, or play music, trying to remind her that she wasn’t alone and that she was real.

After a moment, Vespa pulled back, and walking back over to Juno.

“I uh- gotta take this out. He should be able to breathe now”

Buddy nodded and rested a hand on Juno’s knee, careful not to get in the way and to not look, she wasn’t squeamish by any means, but seeing Juno like this…

“You should sleep, Bud, I’m gonna stay with Steel for a bit.”

She looked at her lover, who was now washing her hands in the sink, she looked tired and scared.

“I think you need it more than I do, my love, why don’t you rest on the cot for a while, and that way I’ll still be here with you?”

Vespa nodded, walking over to Buddy and pushing her face into the captain’s neck, almost purring like a content cat, before laying on the cot, her love close enough to protect.

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

Jet did not want to think about this.

He had dealt with his own struggles of addiction, he even wished to partake in those habits now, Buddy had saved him.

Now, he had more people to help him, and he cared about them each.

Juno Steel, one lady who Jet was very protective of due to the vulnerability he’s seen Juno show, was in danger.

And Rita, his friend whom he held closer than most, was very upset about this.

The short lady had spent the larger part of the past forty-eight hours pacing around the room they had begun to share, mostly for convince and comfort, crying, eventually wearing herself from said crying and sleeping, or trying to keep herself calm enough to calm Jet down after he was hit by a nightmare in the few hours of sleep he got.

This was bringing up less than pleasant memories for him as well.

Seeing Juno in that bed, so small and sick, after one pill, shook Jet to his core.

Seeing Juno so sick from what others gave him made him angry.

The nightmare was about M’Tendere, as many were since their death.

Rita laid on top of him like a blanket, something she had discovered worked to ground him after a few weeks together on the ship.

He wrapped his arms around her, they were both in distress, and the least they could do was be there for each other.

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

Juno did not wake up for four days.

Peter refused to leave his side for all but 8 hours.

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

Juno woke to a weight on his side.

He tried to move his head to look, but unlike last time, there was no tube down his throat, only a plastic oxygen mask on his face.

Trying to move wasn’t working either, one hand was thoroughly trapped under whatever, more so whoever, was using his hip as a pillow, and the other was connected to wires with needles in it.

Ah.

He was in the medbay.

“Steel, you finally up? Not gonna flip out and hurt yourself again?”

Vespa was talking quietly, probably not to wake whoever was sleeping on his side.

He nodded, the mask moving uncomfortably on his face and it was then he realized he had a tube in his nose as well.

Vespa moved quickly, gentle more so than he thought, pulling the mask off his face, checking that he could still breathe, and slowly removing the tube that was in his nose, a very, very, uncomfortable sensation.

Breathing was still hard, so Vespa put some more tubes up his nose, despite his complaints.

“Steel, you’ll be fine, less uncomfortable the other, it’s just gonna sit in your nostrils, calm down, I gotta keep you breathing or your boyfriends gonna be mad, and so will the captain.”

He let her do it.

When she finally was done poking and prodding him, he looked at whoever was laying on him.

Nureyev.

He looked like shit, his black hair was greasy and he was wearing one of Juno’s shirts, and a pair of leggings Rita had bought him.

It made Juno’s heartbreak.

“He’s sat vigil in here for days, so figured we’d let him sleep.”

He looked back at Vespa, hell she looked exhausted too, her eyes were deep and sad, wearing a sweater Juno had knit for her, and jeans that she’d always had.

“Call if you need anything, I’ll let you rest but uh, sure everyone will wanna come see you soon.”

She stalked towards the door, and he felt an odd pang of affection for her.

“Thanks, Vespa”

She smiled and he swore for a second that she looked almost relieved.

“No problem Steel, just… don’t do this again.”

Some time passed, and he was able to wiggle his arm out from under Peter, running his hand through the thief’s hair.

“Mmph-“

Peter was making noises in his sleep, and it took a lot of what Juno had not to laugh, god, he loved this man.

“-uno?”

Peter was looking up, with bleary eyes, and part of Juno felt guilty, his eyes were puffy and red, clearly crying before he fell asleep.

“Hey, sleepyhead”

It took Peter a moment to process, he was clearly overtired, but when he finally processed who was talking to him, his eyes filled with a bright color, with a hint of worry left in them.

“Juno, oh, my love, you’re awake.”

Peter looked like he was about to cry, and he shot up from where he was sitting, likely uncomfortably, and he kissed Juno’s face in any place he could reach, and before long, Juno felt tears that weren’t his own on his face.

“Baby, babe, stop”

Peter looked vaguely like a wounded animal at being told to stop loving his lady, the lady whom he thought would die in his arms.

“Nureyev, baby, I’m okay, I’m okay baby, I’m here”

Juno held his face so gently, wiping the tears that were staining his perfect skin.

“I’m sorry I scared you baby”

Peter pulled away from him, sitting on the bed next to him, slipping on the mask of Ransom.

“My dear I am sorry you were so poorly and I couldn’t do anything I just-“

Juno sat up carefully, and leaned forward, grabbing Nureyevs face.

“Baby, it’s ok to be scared and sad, it’s alright”

Peter fell against Juno’s chest, careful not to jostle him too much and not to hurt him.

Juno wrapped his arms around Peter’s back, holding him close.

“I was- I was so scared, you- you were-“

Juno shushed him, the sound of Peter crying hurt his heart, and he was sure Vespa would explain when she got back.

A knock on the door, probably the others, Peter sat up, quickly donning his mask again, just before the door swung open to reveal the rest of the crew, Rita running towards Juno’s bed.

“Oh Mista steel I was so worried and I-“

Juno opened his arms, and Rita carefully climbed onto the bed, where Ransom had evacuated for just this purpose.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Rita.”

She escaped his hug, carefully wiping her tears and nose on her sweater.

“Oh Mista Steel it’s alright I just.. it felt too much like ol times for a bit, but Mista Jet helped a bit but I was still real worried cause Miss Doctor Vespa said-“

Just then, Buddy and Vespa came into view, gently cutting Rita off.

“Why don’t we let my Vespa explain that, dear?”

Rita nodded and slid off the bed, pushing Peter back onto it, while Buddy sat on the opposite side.

“The sola was laced.”

Juno cringed, trying to look away from them, ashamed and embarrassed, but Buddy (and the tubes in his nose) kept him looking at the crew, at his family.

“We- we can talk about that later, though, uh, the point is is that you had a tear in your stomach and you- you flatlined at one point”

Peter looked away from him, and Juno reached and grabbed his hand, it was scary, yeah, but he was asleep, and Peter had to see it.

“I had to intubate and you woke up at one point and I had to sedate you, it was bad, really bad.. heh”

Buddy held her hand, and he looked up to see Jet had a hand on Rita’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to”

Vespa sighed and sat next to Buddy on the bed, closer than he had been to her while conscious.

“I know, but you’re gonna need to be more careful for a while, you’re stomach is healing, you’ll make a full recovery.”

He smiled and thanked her again, and after a short time, it was decided that he could probably go back to his quarters, mostly so that Peter would actually sleep but no one said that, with the proper equipment and supervision.

After everyone else had left, it was just Juno and his love again, and it was even more obvious how tired he was now.

“Nureyev, baby, when’s the last time you slept in an actual bed? I was out for four days, please tell me you actually slept during that time?”

Peter avoided his gaze, fiddling with his fingers, almost moving them as a fidget, something they’d tried to get him to stop doing.

“Babe?”

Juno was worried about Peter, he looked pale and thin, more so than usual, and the way he held himself was one that usually was reserved for when the thief was in pain, hunched over, his perfect posture gone.

“Juno I-“

The lady could tell his love felt guilty, though he couldn’t understand why.

“Baby, I know you were worried but… I’m okay now, and you know that not sleeping, and sitting in that chair for so long makes your pain worse, why didn’t you let someone else sit with me?”

The thief looked exhausted, leaning his head in his hands.

“I couldn’t simply leave you, Juno, I needed to be there-” Juno sighed, truthfully the lady himself was exhausted, the nose tubes had been removed, as were most of the IVs, save the antibiotics Vespa didn’t trust him to take on his own.

“C’mere”

Juno opened his arms, and after a moment of hesitation, his thief shuffled into the open arms, still stiff in his form.

“I’m sorry”

The thief was uncharacteristically quiet, his voice shaky, and you can tell he had wrecked it from crying.

“Baby you didn’t… you didn’t do anything wrong, just, please take care of yourself too, I know I was sick but I don’t like seeing you hurt”

Peter rested his head on the lady’s chest, his chest was still bare, years of scars exposed from many things to Peter, they only made Juno more beautiful, but his heart still ached at his perfect love’s suffering.

He reached his arm across Juno, running slim fingers against the scars, both self-inflicted and those from many syringes that had entered it.

The ones from his years partying were the ones Peter hated the most right now.

Juno sighed, gently moving his love’s hand from the arm, and cradling his face and meeting red-rimmed eyes, glistening with guilt and relief.

He pulled him closer, feeling warm breath on his skin was grounding, he was exhausted and the shame was setting in.

“Let’s just get some sleep, baby, we can talk more tomorrow”

After a few moments of silence and Juno had assumed the thief was asleep, a few more moments and he was almost asleep.

“Juno I- I thought I was going to lose you when I just got you back, you died and I was scared”

Peter was crying, holding him tightly as he could without hurting him.

“I love you, Juno.”

No matter how many nights they spent together or how many times he said it, making love in their room, or simply staring into the eyes of the other it would never stop making the lady’s heart flutter.

“I love you too, Nureyev.”

It didn’t take long for the thief’s breathing to even out, followed shortly by Juno’s own.

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

Buddy checked on them the next morning, knowing they wouldn’t make it to breakfast, and thought of her own love suffering when she found out how ill Buddy was, how hurt Peter was.

She put it away for another time.

#tpp #the penumbra podcast #juno steel #sick juno steel #tpp sickfic #peter nureyev #buddy aurinko #vespa ilkay #jet siquliak #rita penumbra #vomiting tw #drugs tw #addiction tw #implied self harm #whump #sickfic

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pickalilywrites · 4 years

Text

i haven’t uploaded this onto tumblr yet b/c i’m lazy but it’s been on my ao3 for at least a month 😱

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When I Met You

GalliPieck. Canonverse.

6766 words.

Read on AO3!

Pieck stumbles up the dirt path and wonders how she had managed to walk up this same hill every morning back when she was still a Warrior candidate. Back then it had been a struggle for her too - she never had the best stamina and was always one of the last people to arrive, her cheeks flushed and sweat dripping down her back - but now it’s especially challenging as she hobbles forth on her crutches, which don’t seem to be helping her at all. General Magath hovers behind her worriedly, hands stretched out behind Pieck as if to catch her in case she falls. He always does this, worries too much about Pieck despite the Devil blood that runs through her veins. The man has always been strangely kind even back when Pieck and her companions were still students training to be Warriors.

“I won’t fall over, so stop looking at me like the wind will blow me away,” Pieck tells the general with a fake pout. She waves him away with a crutch, laughing at his scandalized expression. She turns back to the path, moving forward even though her arms ache and her feet are numb. “I don’t know why I let you lead me here, General. I feel like I have to walk slower just to stop those worry lines from permanently wrinkling your face. It might have been better to just go on my own.”

“Go on your own?” Magath splutters as if the idea is unthinkable to him. It’s strange how fragile he sees Pieck when just days ago she was on the battlefield killing hundreds of enemy soldiers at the bat of an eyelash. As if she’s not a monster and just an ordinary soldier that needs to rest after a battle. Then again, the man has always been strange that way. Now, his frown deepens, Pieck’s lighthearted words doing nothing to lessen his concern. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t wait for Zeke or Porco to accompany you or wait a week or two until you’ve recovered. It’s not as if the academy is going anywhere.”

Pieck fights the urge to sigh. Sometimes, General Magath acts more like her father than her superior, but she’d never say this out loud. Instead, she rolls her eyes and says, “Zeke is meeting with a few officials and Porco agreed to meet me here later. He’s grabbing snacks for the kids, but it’d take too long if he brought me along-” Here, Pieck leans over to pat her leg, ignoring Magath’s grimace. “-and today is the perfect day to visit, besides. They have their evaluations today.”

“Ah, evaluations,” Magath says with a nod. He should know better than her. He had been an instructor for a good time before returning to the field, the new Warriors in tow. He must have evaluated dozens of children before the final candidates had dwindled down to Pieck, Marcel, Annie, Bertholdt, and Reiner. “Anyone interesting?”

Pieck nods. “Zeke might have mentioned them a few times. Zofia is good at working with others and doesn’t crack under pressure. She’s also quite clever; she does incredibly well with written exams. Udo is also quite good - at least on paper. He’s smart, but he lacks confidence.”

Their last evaluations were quite impressive, if Pieck recalls correctly. Zofia, a slender girl with a thin nose and half-lidded eyes, had bragged to Pieck about her test scores the last time the Cart Titan had come to visit. Pieck recalls the girl making an effort to point out that not only had her test scores improved, but they were much better than the other candidates. Udo was a little more reserved about his accomplishments, but he had shyly offered his evaluation for Pieck to look at and his marksmanship scores and weaponry grades were particularly memorable.

“And Grice’s younger brother?” Magath asks. “I believe his name is Falco. You know Colt’s brother, of course.”

“Of course,” Pieck says, the corner of her lip turning upward into a smile. Of course, Magath would take the time to remember the name of a soldier’s younger brother. He’s the type to remember details like that even though other people in Magath’s position would think such information to be useless. “He’s …. well, he’s very passionate. He works hard.”

Truth be told, Falco fades into the background when thinking about the other candidates. The boy is talented enough to be considered a candidate, but he’s not more impressive than the others in any way. His stamina is decent, his strength is passable, and his written exam scores are acceptable. Falco hadn’t seemed to inherit the strategic mind and perseverance that his older brother Colt possessed, which is a shame. Of course, it’s not necessary for him to become a chosen Warrior when his brother’s future as the Beast Titan is guaranteed, but it’s always an honor for a family to have someone be chosen as a Warrior. It’s even more of an honor to have two. It’s not Falco’s fault. He isn’t even bad, he’s just not outstanding like the rest of his peers.

Still, Magath nods as if this is enough. “Character like that is hard to build. The instructors should continue to keep an eye on that boy.”

Pieck doubts this, but she doesn’t say it out loud. Magath knows a thing or two about Warrior candidates after all, so maybe she should keep an eye on Falco. He might be a late bloomer.

“I find Gabi Braun the most interesting though,” Pieck says.

The general raises an eyebrow at the name. “Reiner’s cousin?” he asks. He hums when Pieck confirms with a nod. “Another Warrior in the Braun family. Perhaps it’s in their genes. They’d be lucky to have the Armored Titan handed down to a relative.”

They’d have to call it luck. Gabi is the clear candidate for the Armored Titan. She excelled in nearly everything with the exception of written and oral exams. The young girl was a model Warrior candidate - something that her cousin Reiner never was. In fact, Pieck still thinks it’s a miracle that the Armored Titan had earned his position because she had never found him a formidable opponent when fighting for her spot as a Warrior Candidate. He lacked in nearly everything and his evaluations were poor aside from writing and oral assignments. Reiner was, in every way, the exact opposite of Gabi. Pieck had thought Porco would inherit the Armored Titan for sure, so she was surprised when it was announced that Reiner would be chosen as the inheritor. Some days she still can’t wrap her head around it.

“Lucky indeed,” Pieck agrees with a murmur.

They near the top of the hill where the academy is located. There are children outside, some running around and playing now that today’s lessons have concluded while others lie in the grass to rest. Most of them don’t notice Pieck and Magath strolling up the hill until they’ve reached the gate. It’s a girl that greets them first, shouting Pieck’s name loud enough to have the other children turn their heads and begin running towards Pieck. Pieck’s popularity must surprise Magath because he’s alarmed at the crowd of kids that rushes at Pieck. The kids throw their arms around her, hugging her with so much affection that they nearly knock her to the ground.

“Ah, did you miss me that much?” Pieck laughs, struggling to stay upright with all these kids piling on her. She pats one affectionately on the head, ruffling their hair. She almost forgets about Magath for a second until she turns her head and sees the man, his forehead wrinkled as he wonders if he should pull the children off her. She grins widely. “No need to worry, General. You’ve left me in good hands with these kids. They’ll take good care of me.”

At the mention of Magath’s title, the children quickly unstick themselves from Pieck’s limbs and turn towards the general, their hands held up in a salute. Their faces, which had been filled with smiles just seconds before, are now solemn as they look up at Magath. Pieck wants to laugh at the contrast.

“I’ll leave her in your capable hands then,” Magath says, giving them a salute of his own. The general has the decency not to laugh, but Pieck sees an amused sparkle in the man’s eye before he turns to leave. He gets along well with children. Pieck thinks it’s a shame that the man stopped being an instructor. Nobody speaks until the man disappears from view.

“That was General Magath, wasn’t it?” a boy says, his voice filled with awe. He turns to Pieck, admiration in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him up close before.”

“Work harder and maybe you will,” a voice Pieck recognizes as Zofia says. The girl is in the back, her face smug. Zofia is a little thinner than Pieck remembers, but the girl still has the same half-lidded eyes and choppy blonde bangs that she had when Pieck first met her. “You have to get better if you want to be chosen for missions. You’ll never meet the generals and commanders otherwise.”

Zofia is referring to the military operations that the candidates are sometimes picked for. Only top candidates are chosen; it’s a way to reward the candidates for their hard work and at the same time offer them experience on the battlefield before they acquire their Titan. It’s no use to have a Titan and not know how the battlefield works. Pieck herself had been on a number of missions when she had been a candidate. Zofia has as well, but not a lot of other children are picked for such missions. Not everyone gets that honor.

“Miss Pieck,” the child whines, clearly offended. He tangles himself around her arm, sulking into her side.

“You’ll get them soon,” Pieck says soothingly, patting the boy’s back.

He looks up, surprised. Maybe even a little bit excited. “I will?”

Pieck nods. “If you work hard,” she says, pressing her finger to his nose.

The boy groans, his arms falling away from Pieck as Zofia snickers behind him. The other children laugh too, poking the boy and teasing him. A few have worried looks on their faces, probably worried about not being chosen for a mission anytime in the near future. Pieck used to worry about such things too when she was younger. She has other things to worry about now.

Udo grabs Pieck’s crutches from her while other kids take her by the hand and lead her to the schoolhouse. They tell her about their day - some long-distance running, lessons on surviving in the wilderness, and history classes before their evaluations were handed out to them - and Pieck nods as she only half-pays attention to their stories. Some even show her their reports, although she only really pays attention to Udo’s and Zofia’s. They have high marks - much higher than their peers - and she makes a mental note to tell General Magath and Zeke when she sees them again. As they get nearer to the classroom, she notices that a familiar head of black is not here with them.

“Where’s Gabi?” Pieck asks, looking around. It’s strange not to see the lively girl hovering around her with the others. Usually, Gabi is the first one to greet her, pushing her classmates out of the way to get Pieck first. She feels a bit guilty about not noticing the girl’s absence earlier.

People look away at the mention of Gabi, their gazes fixed on their feet and the dirt road. Pieck isn’t entirely sure why, but she sometimes has the feeling that Gabi isn’t well-liked among her peers. It might be because of jealousy or perhaps the girl’s accomplishments intimidate the others. Nobody offers her an explanation of Gabi's whereabouts, so Pieck wonders if the girl had gone home early for a moment until Zofia speaks up.

“She’s in the classroom right now. She told us not to bother her,” Zofia explains. Out of everyone, Zofia seems to be the closest to Gabi, although it was more like the two got along alright instead of being actual friends. Even now, Zofia’s voice drops to a whisper as they all approach the schoolhouse. “I think she’s upset about her evaluation.”

That’s strange. Gabi’s incredibly well-rounded. Even with written and oral exams, the girl’s biggest weakness, Pieck can’t imagine Gabi scoring low enough for it to be worth nothing.

“Do you know what her evaluation was?” Pieck asks.

Zofia snorts and looks at the schoolhouse door with a pout. “Of course not. Gabi won’t share that with anyone,” Zofia says, rolling her eyes. It’s not something Zofia would understand, Pieck decides, because her scores were good all-around. Even if the girl had a bad score, she’d probably bounce back quickly. Gabi, on the other hand, takes every ounce of criticism to heart.

They all stand there, Pieck at the door while the kids huddle behind her, wondering if they’ll actually go in. It’s like they’ve approached a dragon’s lair - half of them are too scared to enter while the other half is curious as to what awaits inside. Is Gabi fuming? Is she crying? Is she sitting in silent shock? Whatever it is, Pieck feels like it’s only polite to grant her privacy instead of trying to talk to her about her evaluation in front of a dozen uninvited children.

“I’ll talk to her myself,” Pieck tells them with a smile. The disappointed looks don’t go unnoticed and Pieck almost laughs. Children are so strange when they’re competitive. Then again, she might have been the same way back when she was their age.

The students leave, some a little more reluctantly than the others. Some even straggle behind until Pieck shoos them away, telling them to look out for Porco instead because he should have some treats for them when he arrives. The promise of food - snacks, sweets, and other goodies that they aren’t normally allowed - is enough to get them to leave, any thoughts of eavesdropping on Pieck and her conversation with Gabi forgotten. After the coast is clear, Pieck waits a minute before knocking.

“Gabi?” Pieck calls. “It’s me, Pieck.” There’s no answer, but Pieck spots a lone figure slumped over a desk when she cracks open the door to take a peek. She raps her knuckles against the door frame to make her presence known in case Gabi hadn’t heard the first time, but the girl simply lets out an angry groan. It’s not exactly an invitation, but Pieck takes a seat beside the sulking girl anyway.

Gabi doesn’t lift her head up when Pieck sits down next to her, but she does turn her head, her lower lip sticking out in a pout. “Hi, Miss Pieck,” Gabi says. Her tone lacks the girl’s usual abundance of energy. In her hand, she clutches a crumpled piece of paper. It most definitely is the evaluation that Zofia mentioned earlier.

“What are you doing here by yourself?” Pieck asks. She touches Gabi lightly on the arm, and the girl doesn’t flinch away from Pieck’s hand. That’s a good sign. “Everyone else is playing outside and waiting for Porco to bring snacks. I told him to bring your favorites. You like those chocolate candy cigarettes, don’t you?”

There isn’t even a hint of a smile on the girl’s face at the mention of her favorite snack. She continues to sit there moodily, rubbing the corner of her evaluation between her two fingers. “I don’t feel like eating.”

“Are you sure? It might be a while before we visit again, and you know Reiner can’t afford to keep buying you snacks all the time.” Pieck lays her head down on the table next to Gabi’s. When she smiles, Gabi returns it with a scowl. “All your friends might eat the snacks before you get a chance to have even one.”

Gabi’s frown deepens and she turns away from Pieck, hiding her face in her elbow. “Doesn’t matter. They’re not my friends anyway.” Her voice is muffled by the sleeve of her shirt.

Pieck raises an eyebrow. Gabi’s never been incredibly sociable, but she’s never been this hostile towards her classmates. Curious, Pieck sneaks a peek at Gabi’s evaluations. There aren’t any horrible marks - they’re all in the nineties, a few high eighties, and even a hundred here and there - but there are a few subjects that Gabi’s elbow is covering. She purses her lips, finger tapping on the desk. After a moment, Pieck asks quietly, “Are you upset about your evaluation scores, Gabi?”

Gabi finally sits up, a terrible glare on her face. Her classmates were right to be afraid. Her face is flushed red, although Pieck suspects it’s from anger rather than embarrassment or crying. Gabi isn’t the type to cry about these things. “Did Zofia tell you?” Gabi’s eyes narrow as she glowers at Pieck.

Pieck decides not to tell Gabi that Zofia had told her about the evaluations. If anyone can handle an angry Gabi, it would probably be Zofia, but Pieck doesn’t want her to deal with that if she doesn’t have to. Instead, Pieck rubs soothing circles on Gabi’s back. “Can I take a look at them? It probably isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

The girl continues to glare at Pieck, but the Cart Titan just stares back, expression neutral. After a while, Gabi finally sighs and removes her elbow from the paper, allowing Pieck to look at the paper.

Pieck takes the paper in her hand, her eyes scanning through the subjects and their corresponding scores. As expected, Gabi’s grades are stellar. Her lowest grades are in history and speaking, but even those scores are an improvement from last term. Pieck’s eyes continue to wander downward until she finds an anomaly among the high scores - cooperation. The box beside it is marked with a large 0, somehow angrier and more savage-looking than the other scores despite being written with the same red pen as the other numbers. Gabi’s teamwork skills have never been that high, but a 0 is abysmal. No wonder the girl is miserable.

“...Do you have a problem working in teams, Gabi?” Pieck asks, trying to keep her tone light as she sets the paper down. She looks at Gabi cautiously, gauging the girl’s reaction.

“I don’t,” Gabi says. Her thick brows furrow and she sucks in her cheeks the way she does when she’s angry. “Everyone else just sucks.”

Pieck has to stifle a laugh, coughing behind her hand to hide her smile. She really shouldn’t be encouraging this behavior, but some of the things the kids say are so ridiculous she can’t help laughing. “I’m sure they’re not that bad,” Pieck says. She hopes that her stoic face is convincing. Then again, Gabi is too busy glaring at the 0 on her evaluation form to pay any attention to Warrior’s facial expression.

“I don’t even understand why I have to learn how to work with others,” Gabi mutters. She leans back roughly against her chair, slouching with her legs splayed out. “It’s not as if I’ll be controlling the Armored Titan with others. It’s not like the Cart Titan where you have to work with other people to be fully operational.” She glances at Pieck for a moment and, as if remembering who she was speaking to, tacking on a mumbled, “No offense.”

Pieck shrugs off Gabi’s words, not at all bothered. It’s true that the Cart Titan is the least capable Titan for combat. Its form made it too awkward to fight in combat and it was not anywhere near as agile as the Jaw or Armored Titan. Its strength lay in its ability to transport equipment and carry military weapons, requiring soldiers to work alongside it to operate the machinery. While the other Titans didn’t need extra equipment to be useful on the battlefield, that didn’t mean that cooperation was useless for them.

“Do you think your cousin Reiner got where he was from doing whatever he wanted and not listening to others?” Pieck says with a laugh.

Gabi has stopped glaring now, but her lower lip is still sticking out in a pout. Still, she looks at Pieck curiously, wondering what the Warrior has to say, so Pieck proceeds.

“The only reason why the Warriors work so well together is because we’re able to work as a team. We listen to Zeke, our commander, as well as our military superiors. If we didn’t, we’d be a mess out there on the battlefield. The enemy would massacre us and it wouldn’t matter how powerful our Titan forms are,” Pieck says. She brushes away a stray lock of hair from Gabi’s forehead.

The young girl’s brow is still furrowed and she looks as if she wants to argue with Pieck, but there isn’t anything to argue about. It doesn’t matter what Gabi thinks. Pieck is the one with more military experience and the one with a Titan. She knows better than Gabi. After a moment, Gabi asks, “How am I supposed to work with people if they don’t like me?”

It seems like such an ordinary question to ask - not at all about how to get better in combat or improve stamina or anything about surviving during a battle - that Pieck almost laughs, but the girl is looking at her so earnestly that Pieck swallows her smile. “You guys don’t have to like each other, at least not at first,” Pieck replies. There are still people in the military that she hates working with, but she’s not going to tell Gabi that. That’s something the girl can figure out on her own. “Just try to work well with them - listen to them, take into account their concerns, be open to suggestions - and maybe you’ll like them better.”

“That’s impossible,” Gabi scowls, arms folded over her chest. Her mind has already been made up about her classmates. The girl is incredibly stubborn. It’ll take a while for her mind to change about her classmates. Gabi sneaks a curious glance at Pieck and then, without warning, asks, “Did you get along well with Porco when you first met him?”

“Porco?” Pieck isn’t sure why the name startles her so much. Maybe it’s because she was expecting Gabi to ask about someone else like Zeke, who Pieck has worked with much longer than Porco.

Gabi nods. “My instructor said you two work incredibly well on the field together. ‘Perfectly in sync,’ she said.” As she says this, the girl looks almost envious. She looks at Pieck suspiciously as if the Cart Titan has been hiding some secret from her. “What did you think of him when you first met?”

“When we first met?” Pieck says with a laugh. “That was so long ago though…” Her voice begins to trail off as she recalls meeting Porco.

------

Pieck had, of course, met Porco before. They had been Warrior candidates at the academy and trained side-by-side. She had even had a few conversations with him back then - ordinary conversations about the weather and musings about the lessons they would have - but nothing they discussed was memorable. Of her classmates, Porco had been one of the more memorable of her peers. He was good on the field, skilled at fighting, and had an intellectual acuity for battlefield strategies, especially in large formations. She, along with many others, had thought Porco was the logical choice for the Armored Titan, so it was a surprise when Reiner Braun was announced in his place. The surprise didn’t last, however, and Pieck had been quick to accept it, her memory of Porco and his discontent scowl fading in the back of her mind. It was only five years later that she saw him again, only this time he was no longer Porco Galliard, the candidate that had failed to become the Armored Titan, but Porco Galliard, the one chosen to inherit the Jaw Titan.

“Meet the Jaw Titan,” Zeke says as he introduces (or, really, re-introduced) Porco to Pieck.

“We’ve met before,” Porco says at the same time Pieck is thinking it. Still, he offers a hand for Pieck to take and she shakes it, noting how rough and weathered it is in hers. He has a strong grip though, which she takes as a good sign before she lets go.

“We trained together,” she explains to Zeke.

“And fought together,” he adds. There’s an awkward silence between them - from Pieck because she can’t recall seeing Porco on the field and from Porco because he doesn’t know how to proceed from there. It must be that the silence is getting to him because Porco clears his throat and clarifies, “I was a part of the infantry.”

“Ah,” Pieck says with a nod, pretending like she remembers even though she doesn’t. There are so many people on the field every day. The only people she really knows are the ones that work alongside her, manning the artillery on the Cart Titan’s back.

The commander claps the two on the back. “Well, you two will be fighting side-by-side more often once Porco takes hold of the Jaw Titan,” Zeke says. He looks at Porco. “The ceremony is this weekend, isn’t it?”

“Ah, yes,” Porco says, a bit startled at the attention. He offers up a bag that he’s been holding. Inside are snacks of every kind - sweet things like muffins and cookies and savory snacks like sausages and jerky. They’re the types of things Eldians can’t afford to buy unless their families had a member that inherited a Titan. Zeke and Pieck both stare down at the snacks and Porco clears his throat. “I bought them to celebrate. Er, if you want any.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” Zeke asks, raising his eyebrow. He reaches in and plucks out a bag of jerky. He tears open the wrapping easily, snapping off a piece of the dried beef with his teeth. “Ah, but this is good. Thanks, Porco.” He ruffles the man’s head as if Porco were a child and not a man about to inherit one of Marley’s most powerful weapons.

“No problem,” Porco mumbles, cheeks flushing at the simple words of thanks. He notices that Pieck still hasn’t taken anything so he offers the bag to her, holding it under her nose. “Take some.”

Pieck looks down, observing the wide selection. There are only three of them, so there wasn’t really a need to get so much food. These are all snack foods besides, but maybe Porco enjoys snack foods or maybe he’s hoping to save some for his family later. After a moment she looks at him, frowning as she jokingly tells him, “You don’t have my favorite in here.” Behind her Zeke snorts, but Porco looks at her in alarm like he’s afraid he’s actually offended her.

“Which one’s your favorite?”

“Don’t tease him when he’s nervous enough as it is, Pieck,” Zeke says with a chuckle. He’s already halfway through the packet of jerky already.

“Those little sweet crackers. The ones with the scallop edges and sprinkled with sugar. You know the ones?” she asks Porco. She feels bad immediately afterward because the man’s now frowning down at his bag of food. It almost looks like he’s trying to will one of the snacks to transform to Pieck’s favorite treat. Hastily, Pieck makes a grab for a random pack of food and pulls out a licorice wheel. It’s not ideal, but it could be worse. She makes a show of waving it in Porco’s face, a smile on her face. “Nevermind. These will do. Thanks, Porco!”

He grunts in response but still seems troubled. Even as Zeke continues to talk to them - discussing future plans now that they’ve reacquired the Jaw Titan and the need to prevent neighboring countries from invading - he seems distracted, nibbling at a chocolate wafer nervously and nodding every once in a while. Watching him makes Pieck feel guilty and she almost wants to put down her licorice wheel and apologize, but doing that in the middle of a conversation with Zeke might make the poor man feel even more awkward so she unwinds the licorice wheel and eats it inch by bitter inch. It’s only after Pieck has eaten another licorice wheel - a raspberry-flavored one, which was more bearable than the black licorice wheel before - and Zeke has inhaled nearly all of the jerky and sausage that Porco abruptly gets up to excuse himself, mumbling something about coming back soon.

“Do you think I made him uncomfortable?” Zeke asks before Pieck can.

She snorts, nearly choking on her raspberry candy. “You? Why would you make him uncomfortable?”

“Because,” Zeke says solemnly, “I am his superior, so I might intimidate him. Also, I’ve been told that I’m very handsome.”

Pieck almost rips off a piece of licorice and pelts it at the commander. She doesn’t, of course. That would be a waste of food. She rolls her eyes instead. “I probably shouldn’t have teased him like that when I barely know him, but I didn’t think he’d be so sensitive.” Pieck takes another bite of her licorice, gagging at the strange mixture of artificial raspberry and bitter licorice taste. She probably shouldn’t have taken another licorice wheel, but she decided it would be an apt punishment. “Do you think we’ll get along well?”

Zeke shrugs as if it doesn’t matter. He’s surprisingly unconcerned about all this. “It’ll all work out eventually,” he says before giving Pieck a wicked grin. “And if it doesn’t, we can say it’s your fault.”

“You’re terrible,” Pieck grumbles, sitting back in her chair.

“I’m sure you’re just overthinking it,” Zeke says reassuringly. He leans forward and looks through the bag of snacks, frowning when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. “He’s probably just the shy, quiet type. He’ll warm up to us eventually.”

“Or maybe,” Pieck says, pointing at Zeke, “he’s had enough of us already and ran away.” It seems to be the only logical explanation as to why the man hasn’t returned yet.

“He probably just went to the bathroom.”

“That’s an awfully long bathroom break.”

“It happens,” Zeke says sagely.

Just then the door swings open and in barges Porco, another bag in his hand. It’s not filled to the brim this time and Pieck and Zeke can only see its contents when Porco haphazardly tosses it between them, peering in curiously to find the sweet sugar crackers that Pieck had spoken about before. They look at him, eyebrows raised, but Porco simply slouches down in his chair, his head hanging so that he doesn’t have to look either of them in the eye. Pieck can’t decide if the man’s just shy or awkward. It could be a combination of both.

Gingerly, Pieck takes a packet of crackers, holding it up and inspecting it as if seeing the treat for the first time. “Did you,” she asks slowly, “buy this just because I said it was my favorite?”

“No, of course not,” Porco snaps a little too quickly. He must feel that his response is too harsh because he says, quieter this time, “I just started craving them because you were talking about it earlier. You can have some if you’d like.”

“Thanks,” Pieck says, trying hard not to giggle. He’s both awkward and shy then, she thinks as she rips open the plastic wrap and nibbles on the cracker. And thoughtful. That’s a good trait to have in a teammate.

Porco grunts in response, taking a pack of crackers of his own and chewing them silently across from Pieck. Zeke, however, does not take any. The commander just frowns at the bag a little unhappily and, after a moment, says, “You didn’t buy any more sausages on your way back?”

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll go get some immediately!” Porco says, already getting up to run out of the room.

Pieck grabs onto his shirt and yanks him back down before he can escape. “Relax, he’s just kidding!” She gestures to the unfinished crackers in his hand. “Eat up.”

Confused, Porco looks from Pieck and then to Zeke who’s smiling at him rather apologetically. It’s only then that Porco truly relaxes, sitting back against the chair and eating his crackers a little less carefully now, crumbs spilling onto the front of his shirt.

He’s most definitely awkward, Pieck thinks as she hides her smile behind another bite of cracker, but that’s nothing that she can’t work with. They’ll get along well for sure.

----------

“When I first met him?” Pieck repeats. She looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully, staring up at the boards that she used to stare at as a child. She then turns her gaze back to Gabi, a mischievous smile on her lips. “Cute.”

Gabi’s surprised for a moment, the answer unexpected, and then her nose crinkles in an expression that’s almost like disgust. “Cute?”

“Yes,” Pieck says cheerfully. She wants to giggle at Gabi’s scowl. She probably should have given the girl a more serious answer, but Gabi needs to learn to lighten up a little if she wants to work with others. “Some people think he’s quite handsome, you know.”

“I guess,” Gabi mumbles, although the frown on her face says that she hasn’t really thought about it. Or maybe she just doesn’t think Porco is handsome. Pieck will have to tell Porco about this.

“Well, it’s fine if you don’t get along with them immediately,” Pieck tells Gabi. She reaches out to play with the loose strands of hair that are falling out of Gabi’s bun, smiling fondly as she does so. “Just pick someone that you think you can work with well. Someone you can tolerate. And then maybe you’ll learn how to be a team with them. Who knows, you might even become the best of friends.”

Gabi sulks for a bit and side-eyes Pieck. “Do they have to be ‘handsome’?”

The elder snorts. “No. It doesn’t matter what they look like.”

The girl sits there thinking for a bit, mulling over the possible candidates. Her brown eyes flicker over the empty desks in the classroom as she recalls all her classmates. After a bit, she finally says, “I think I’ll work with Falco first.”

Pieck is only a little surprised. She probably would have picked Zofia - her skillset is more evenly matched to Gabi’s than Falco’s is - but it does make sense that Gabi would choose the boy over Zofia. He isn’t as headstrong as Zofia is and is less likely to clash with the stubborn Braun girl. The two might also make a surprisingly good pair, Pieck thinks. Falco could improve Gabi’s cooperation scores and might also get her used to working with others and Gabi might be able to help the boy improve in all the subjects he’s having trouble with. Pieck definitely approves of the match.

“I think that would be a good idea,” Pieck says with a smile. She rubs the top of Gabi’s head. “Why don’t you go find him right now? Working on the field is good, but team building is easier if you get along well in your downtime too.”

Gabi looks a little aggravated, but she gets up anyway. “Fine,” she huffs. The girl grabs her bag and tosses it over her shoulder, her evaluation crumpled in her hand. She maneuvers around Pieck and heads toward the door. She only turns back when her hand is on the knob. Her expression isn’t exactly happy right now - the girl is probably still focused on improving her scores for next term - but she gives Pieck a quick smile and a wave. “Thanks, Miss Pieck. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“See you later, Gabi,” Pieck says cheerfully.

The young Warrior cadet leaves, the door just about to swing shut before someone’s hand reaches out to stop it. Outside, Gabi speaks to someone, but her voice is too quiet for Pieck to pick up the conversation. The other voice is much lower, much more mature, and Pieck realizes just who it is although she can’t hear a word that the speaker is saying. When the speaker steps in, Pieck greets him with a wide smile.

“Porco.”

“Pieck,” Porco replies. He raises a hand, showing her a bag that’s less than half-filled with treats. Her friend approaches, dropping the bag onto the table. He takes a seat on the desk, ignoring the many empty chairs around them, and folds his arms across his chest. “Those little gremlins nearly ate everything. I gave Gabi a few biscuits and chips before she left. You’re lucky I still have some things leftover for you.”

Pieck purses her lips as she takes a peek inside. There are different flavored licorice wheels - strawberry, raspberry, and the original black licorice - and a few packs of sugar crackers. The Titan Shifter takes the crackers, ripping open the wrapper and biting a cracker. It’s nice and sweet and flaky on her tongue. “How blessed I am to have you as a friend,” Pieck hums.

Her companion rolls his eyes as he takes a licorice wheel and bites into it, not bothering to unravel it and eat it in a strand like most other people would. “Blessed is a word for it,” he mumbles.

Pieck takes another bite, savoring the taste of butter and sugar on her tongue. Truth be told, sugar crackers weren’t really her favorite snack, at least not back then. She had only said that in jest and hadn’t bothered to tell Porco afterward. He had gone through all that trouble to bring the crackers for her that night. It gave her a deeper appreciation for the snack. After she polishes off a pack, she leans forward on the desk, tipping her chin upward so that she can get a better view of Porco. “Porco, what did you think of me when we first met?”

“What did I think?” Porco repeats. He bites off another piece of the licorice wheel, chewing thoughtfully as he remembers their first meeting. He swallows and answers, “I thought you were weird.”

Pieck wrinkles her nose. It’s not exactly the answer she was expecting. “Why weird?”

“You ate, like, three licorice wheels when I first met you,” Porco replies. He finishes his licorice wheel and reaches for a pack of crackers. He pulls one out first and looks at it before licking the sugar crystals on its surface. “Nobody likes licorice that much.”

“Hmm.” She supposes she won’t tell him the real reason she was eating the licorice wheels. Or the fact that eating all that licorice at once has given her a fondness for the snack now.

“Why?” Porco asks. “What about you? What was your first impression of me?”

Awkward. Shy. Endearing. Pieck grins up at him. “I thought you were perfect,” she says.

It’s a comment that might have made him blush in their earlier days together, but now Porco just shoves a cracker in her mouth. “Don’t be weird,” he tells her. He hops off the desk, grabbing the bag of snacks. “Let’s go grab some food now. This stuff is good, but it’s hardly a meal.”

“Get me my crutches? I think Udo left them leaning against the schoolhouse,” Pieck says. She pushes herself out from her seat and grabs the arm Porco offers her, letting him help her up. She smiles when he reaches over to push her chair in as well as the chair Gabi had left out when she left, and leans against his broad shoulder.

“What do you feel like eating tonight?” Porco asks as he leads them to the door.

“Pork?” Pieck says, tilting her head to see how Porco feels about it.

He nods. “Jägerschnitzel?” he asks.

Ah, pork cutlets with a crispy breadcrumb crust and chopped mushrooms, a rich gravy sauce poured all over. It’s perfect with a side of steamed beans and mashed potatoes. Pieck’s hungry just thinking about it. She really can’t think of a better meal right now.

“Perfect,” Pieck says, squeezing Porco’s arm. She looks up at him fondly. “We make a good team.”

“Yeah,” Porco replies. He pushes open the door for Pieck, letting her go out first before he shuts the door behind them. He collects her crutches for her, handing them to her, and waits as she adjusts herself. “I guess we do.”

#gallipieck #pieck finger #porco galliard #snk #pokkopikku #pikupokko #canonverse #why does this ship have like 50 diff names help #requests #asks #answered #anon #anonymous

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 4 years

Text

The Devil’s Daughter Ch. 1

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: The Winter Soldier X Reader (Bucky X Reader)

Summary: Born and bred to be a monster worthy to lead Hydra into a new age you must decide if you will become the beast they always intended or perhaps something greater... Someone worthy even, of love.

Warnings: Literally all of them. 18+ only and please read with caution if you’re triggered by violence of any nature.

A/N: Well. Here we go.

I won’t lie. Writing this was cathartic and I hope that it may be the same reading it. Some serious ANTIFA fuck this up vibes.

Love y’all.

TAGS ARE OPEN

You weren’t sure how long you’d stared at your hands.

They seemed strange things, somehow beyond your comprehension. Attempts to flex the fingers on them had resulted in only an unsettling twitch, you knew that wasn’t the right response, and they were somehow both burning and cold in equal measure.

In fact, your whole body felt like a contradiction. Something known, yet foreign. Too much feeling, too little. Too hot, too cold. Too still, yet constantly something was moving.

Had you always been able to feel the flow of blood through your veins? Did each hair follicle always hum as the air moved around you? Who… who were you?

All the memories of the past 20 years hit you with the force of a train.

Frantically you begin to pace in the small white room, your heartbeat increasing with each lap, your breathing turning into a rapid pant. Your mind steadily piecing things together, for better or worse, pulling who you were back into sharp focus. With that clarity comes something else.

Taking a deep breath your pacing stops.

There wasn’t a word for what you felt. This emotion went farther than rage, conviction, or vengeance. You think you’ve felt it before, in fleeting moments, but now it’s amplified - along with everything else it seemed - now-

A creaking under your hands draws your attention, pulling you away from that line of thought. With confusion, you gape at the metal bed frame beneath your hands. You’d taken hold of it when you’d stopped pacing and now the metal was crumpled and twisted.

It worked, you realize. It actually, bloody, worked. A small chuckle trips over your lips - you’d genuinely thought you’d end up like Pierce’s daughter, dead.

A few weeks ago was the first time you’d seen Eric in almost a year.

He’d been different in a way you couldn’t name since that night with The Soldier. You knew it wasn’t that he actually remembered what happened - if he had you’d no doubt he’d have come close to killing you - but perhaps an impression of something stuck. Regardless, when the time came for you to go to uni a few months later he’d set you up with your own flat and sent you on your way, saying that you needed ‘time to explore yourself.’

It was the one kindness he’d ever done you.

In the last three years, you’d crafted a new version of yourself.

She was normal, relatively speaking. Studied business, partied in SoHo with friends, had a string of short - albeit far from vanilla - affairs with several people, fairly typical stuff.

The only time you saw Eric was for required formal events, someone ascending the ranks within Hydra or the random social event. It totaled to perhaps six or seven in three years. Which was why you were shocked, and a bit unsettled, to see him at your graduation.

You’d been worried his presence would keep you from enjoying the moment with your friends, that he’d pull you into some droll dinner to pretend he was a caring and proud father. Instead, he’d simply given you a cold congratulations and instructed you to meet him at his office the following Monday.

It still put a damper on your entire celebration - all you could think about was what the hell he wanted from you. Not even the distraction of a beautiful woman clad in leather had managed to remove your worry.

There had been a million things you’d thought this meeting would be about. You’d run countless scenarios in your head. None came close to what your father shared with you from across his polished desk.

“We feel it’s time for you to join The Council.” He said as though he was commenting on the weather.

“I-I’m honored.” you stammer a bit grimacing internally. He raises a doubting brow at you before striding over to the stocked bar cart to begin pouring a drink.

“You’ll be taking the third seat.” You almost choke on your tea. “Is that a problem?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Not at all,” you say, willing your voice steady. “What position will Jennifer Pierce be taking in that case?” Alexander Pierce headed the US arm of Hydra and to your knowledge, the third seat had been intended for his daughter.

“Jennifer Pierce is dead.”

“Ah.”

“Of course-” he says, turning back to you and taking a sip of scotch before continuing- “there can be no ascension of this kind without a trial to test your worth.” You knew as much, Hydra always demanded a pound of flesh - at minimum.

“She failed hers.” Jennifer was many years your senior, had done years of fieldwork and been a trusted confidant of her own father if, she failed whatever trial this seat demanded… “You will not.”

“Can you hear us?” A male voice asks over hidden speakers bringing you back to the present.

“Yes.”

“Can you tell us your full name?”

“Catherine Eileen Clayton.”

“What is your date of birth, Catherine?” Ah, cognitive tests.

“The third of January 1983,” you sigh. “I’m twenty years old, a double Capricorn, and very in control of my faculties. Can we move on?”

A buzz sounds by the door. The noise grates against your newly sensitive eardrums, causing you to grimace. When it opens Eric stands in the corridor, a proud, if not smug, smile on his face.

“I knew you were born for this,” he extends a hand. You eye it before looking up to meet his gaze. Rather than take it you remain unmoving, waiting for him to tell you what came next. For a fleeting second his eyes narrow before sweeping his arm to beckon you from the room.

“There is one final step before you’ll be ready to ascend to your seat on The Council,” he begins to stride down the hall, expecting you to follow.

“And that is?” He stops dead in his tracks. Your heart leaps into your throat as you recognize the set of his shoulders, instinctively you brace for a blow. Instead, he turns slowly to you, his expression unreadable as he observes how you haven’t moved.

“You can rot in that room or follow me obediently to find out.” A too familiar chill crawls up your spine and settles in your chest. Without another word, you follow him.

As you make your way through the labyrinthine corridors of Hydra’s London base you remember being dropped down here at 10, and having to find your way out - none of the adults you encountered would even acknowledge you existed. You remember training in one of these many blank rooms - both physical and mental - though, torture may be a better word.

The chasm that opens in your mind almost feels like home, one you haven’t been to in a little while. Quickly you turn your thoughts to how your blood seems to hum through your veins, how loud your steps are, the low tension in your muscles - anything to pull you away from that beckoning void.

Eric stops in front of a nondescript door, pressing his thumb into the handle. An unseen mechanism whirs to life followed by a distinct click. Before he opens the door he turns his eyes on you, studying.

“You’ve done well thus far,” he turns the handle, looking forward. “Don’t disappoint me now, Catherine.” You don’t miss the order in his tone. A voice whispers, Yes Papa, but you refuse to let your tongue form those words.

With bated breath, you follow him. It’s much like a room you remember from long ago, a cell where he showed you exactly the kinds of monsters that Hydra could craft. Behind you the door closes, the locks sliding back into place.

A cell lies on the other side of the room. Through the bars, you see a woman, nude, her back to you. Deep red hair tumbling in thick waves, her ragged breath scraping over your ears.

No, you beg silently, not her. Please not her.

Once you and Eric enter the cell, the woman turns red-rimmed eyes to you both. Relief thunders through you as you release the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. This wasn’t Natalia, they hadn’t brought her here as a sacrifice to whatever future lay before you. Though, now the question rattled in your brain, impossible to ignore.

“What is this?” You ask, lazily gesturing toward the woman.

“What do you think?”

“Can we stop with the riddles? Just fuc-”

You were clearly out of practice. When his backhand cracks across your cheek it leaves you reeling, ears ringing, though you don’t fall. Once you blink your vision clear you look back to him, attempting to keep your face straight.

“I believe I asked you a question,” he sighs out.

You answer, “I assume she’s failed in some way, showed some unforgivable weakness.” You try to stop the words but they come anyway, “But you cannot expect me to kill her?”

“Oh? And why is that?” It’s your turn to sigh.

“Honestly, that is hardly a test. If it gets things moving forward I suppose I will,” the woman shifts her back against the wall at this. “I just don’t know what that will prove.” He smiles, slowly. Clearly you got something right.

“Perceptive. Killing her would be nothing for you, even before,” you swear the sick bastard looks proud. That void threatens once more, something whispering from the darkness. You push it away.

“However, you’re wrong about her crime. She’s not here for being weak or unworthy, rather, she has refused to fall in line. We have no need for an unbroken horse.” He pauses, striding to the other side of the cell.

With his back turned, you look into her eyes. They burn with a fire you recognize - for an instant, you’re 11 again, you can feel the weight of that gun in your hands, hear your Mother’s voice-

“But you won’t be putting her down.” The sound of another lock clicking draws your focus to where Eric stands, hands behind his back.

A panel slides open with a swish. Eric steps aside just enough and you see him, The Soldier.

He’d been gone when you’d woken in the late afternoon years ago, like some macabre guardian angel. Habitually, your fingers stroke the scar on your palm, remembering how gentle he’d been as he sutured the cut.

The woman begins to sob. A broken, “No,” slipping out here and there.

Eric turns back to you, a wicked smile coloring his features. “The Fist of Hydra,” he walks back to stand beside you, The Soldier doesn’t move.

“You remember him don’t you?” Your heart begins to beat a tattoo of alarm against your ribs. “I showed him to you when you were a child.”

“Yes,” you will your heart to quiet, feeling like it’s loud enough for the whole room to hear.

“It’s one thing to take a life and quite another to put the blood on the hands of someone else.” He looks down at you, “You’ll prove you can handle that, and The Soldier, by utilizing him to remove this stain from our ranks.”

He looks over his shoulder at the woman, “Be creative. He hasn’t been let loose in some time.” With that, he strolls casually to the far corner of the cell, leaning back against the wall as though he was about to watch some kids play football.

The Soldier steps forward and the panel behind him slides shut, disappearing as though it never was. You study him, searching those pale eyes for some spark of recognition. Whatever had been there before was long gone, all that stood before you was a weapon, a tool waiting to be put to use. It chilled you.

Behind you, the woman still weeps. It makes something bitter rise in you - pathetic, she was nothing like your mother. Even so, words you hadn’t allowed yourself to remember for so long rise in your mind.

“Always remember that you are more than this.”

“No.” One crisp, clear, syllable. It may as well have been a bomb.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ll be better than all of them as long as you remember.” Your mother’s voice echoes in your mind.

Languidly you slide your eyes to Eric, “I said, no.”

Everything goes quiet as his anger builds, a fire slowly eating all the oxygen in the space. What was coming would likely consume you leaving nothing but a husk behind, you don’t care. It feels good.

Despite the waves of rage rolling off of him, his face remains impassive as he approaches you. A couple of feet away he stops, head tilting to the side as though he was seeing something puzzling.

“She’s done nothing worth a death sentence.” You state matter of factly.

“You’re questioning me?”

“No,” god that word felt so good, intoxicating. Maybe you were mad from the power it seemed to give you. It was the best explanation for your next words. “I’m telling you you’re wrong.”

You read once that wolves show their teeth before they attack. Devils, you know, do the same.

Eric’s smile is broad as he slips his suit jacket off his shoulders. Your eyes track him as he hangs it over the horizontal bar of the cell. Unhurriedly he unbuttons his cuffs, methodically rolling the sleeves up to the elbow. When he speaks again, he’s unbuttoning a single button to allow him room to tuck away his tie.

“Then how would you address the situation, Catherine?”

“I wouldn’t.” He steps toward you, on instinct you move back, not wanting to allow him a close range to strike.

“You’d allow disrespect to stand? Allow this stain to spread?” Another step forward, another retreat from you.

“No.”

“Then what? You’d do nothing to handle this weak-”

“You said yourself she isn’t weak. In fact, it seems to me, the problem is your own weakness if you can’t handle one-”

Stupid. That’s the only word echoing through your skull as it slams into the wall behind you with enough force to knock a lesser person unconscious.

Right now you’re not thinking about the bent metal of the bed frame in your recovery room. You’re not thinking of your sensitive ears or the weeks of preparation, or that you lived through the procedure when others have died.

No.

Right now you’re a little girl again, realizing your father is the Devil for the first time. Right now you’re the same powerless thing you’ve always been in his presence, the fear of a lifetime suffocating you.

“Would you like to finish that statement?” Eric growls. You shake your head, too afraid to speak. “I thought not.” His fingers dig into your neck.

“You’ve grown far too bold. Forgotten where you belong.” He takes a deep breath, eyelids fluttering as though the smell of your terror was intoxicating. “Perhaps you need a reminder.”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” god you hate yourself for those words.

“No,” he reclaims the power you’d felt so briefly. His knee pries your thighs apart, “You will be.”

When his head dips down, the grotesque feel of his tongue against the skin of your neck almost makes you wretch. Before you close your eyes in an attempt to block out everything happening and all you know is to come, you catch The Soldier’s intent stare.

He looked as though he was straining on an invisible leash, his entire body coiled tension begging for release.

He’s waiting on something, you think as teeth sink into your shoulder. The pain brings clarity. He’s waiting on me.

All it takes is one nod to break the invisible tethers binding him. With terrifying speed, The Soldier strikes, pulling Eric from you, pinning his arms and legs, rendering him immobile. To his credit he didn’t struggle, knowing he couldn’t break such a hold.

“Release me, Soldat!” Eric barks in harsh Russian. The Soldier doesn’t even flinch, his eyes remain locked on you, awaiting an order. “Soldat!”

The fear which had paralyzed you seeps away as your senses begin to return and you stare at Eric. He looks angry but still calm, never willing to let his facade fall for long. Under the surface though, you can hear the racing of his heart, it seems to pick up at the same pace your own slows. The vein in his throat pulses, his breath is barely controlled, and you note the small beads of sweat beginning to form on his skin.

Weak, something hisses from that void. This time you don’t silence it - you agree, you welcome it, this darkness he so proudly fostered within you. Now you allow the void to rise. He made you this. Killer. Demon. Weapon. The void whispers. And it is not wrong. You were all these things and now-

You kneel before Eric, gripping his chin in your hand.

“I don’t think he listens to you anymore, Papa,” you say, the final word laced with mockery. You pat his cheek as you stand and pace away, purposely showing your back to him to be sure he knew you were no longer afraid. That you’d never be afraid of him again.

“I do think you had a point earlier though. About putting blood on someone else’s hands being different.” You turn back to him, wanting to look into his eyes as you say, “It would be a shame to waste such a prime opportunity to learn. Don’t you think?” His eyes widen in understanding that now, the void he created would consume him.

“Soldier,” you look to him, those cold blue eyes unwavering. “Break him, but do not let him die.”

You had worried for a moment that you needed to be more specific in your commands. After all, you wanted your father to suffer at least a taste of the horrors he’d done to others throughout his life. It only took a few moments for you to see that you worried in vain. Be it training or retribution, The Soldier methodically broke Eric down in ways that would cause the most pain without the release of death.

For what may have been hours you remain entranced by the scene before you. Every cry of pain was a symphony. The blood on the cold concrete a masterpiece.

This was for your mother. For every person, he’d hurt. For the child, he’d broken and forged into something irredeemable.

This was justice. Or at the very least, the justice you understood, the justice he deserved.

“That’s enough,” you sigh contently. Without hesitation The Soldier stops, stepping away from Eric.

Your father’s face is almost unrecognizable. Blood, tears, snot, and vomit all paint his features into something different, something grotesque. The outside finally reflecting the sickening soul beneath. Slowly you take in the rest of his broken body, stopping at the wet stain on his trousers.

“Piss? Really, Eric, you’re embarrassing yourself.” You press your boot to his throat as he’d done to you when you were a child.

“You once told me, that dangerous miscalculations only served to land one under the boot of those worthy of bravery. Do you remember?” He makes no move of acknowledgment, only stares up at you with one defiant eye - the other swollen shut.

“Oh you must,” you press harder and he gurgles. “It was just before you made me put a bullet in my mother’s head.”

“Tell me, Papa,” you spit the word. “Am I brave enough now?”

You lift him from the floor as though he’s nothing but a rag doll and slam him into the wall where he’d pinned you earlier. Exhilaration didn’t come close to encapsulating this feeling.

“I believe I asked you a question,” you say in an echo of his own cool tone.

“You… little… devil,” he manages to say with a mouth missing several teeth. A laugh, bright and ringing, pours from you.

“I am the devil you made. Aren’t you proud?”

With one hand on Eric’s throat, and the other on his chest, you begin to push your fingers between his ribs, pressure increasing bit by bit.

The tattered fabric of his shirt and his flesh begins to give way beneath your steel fingers. A whimper rises from him that slowly forms into a cry of agony. All you can do is smile as you feel the wet heat around your hand.

A little further and you feel the beat, the pulse of life that had animated this man for all his days.

“Goodbye, Papa,” you whisper as you squeeze and feel that pulse cease.

The silence that follows is absolute.

Everything in you, and around you, quiet.

Eventually, you let him drop to the floor in an undignified heap, stepping back. Only then does the void recede enough for you to feel anything more than triumph. Even then, you feel no regret, only the heavy knowledge of the price your actions would demand.

A trembling breath escapes you as soft shifting sound draws your focus from what you’d done and back to The Soldier. He stands straight, quietly observing you. When you meet his eyes you’d swear there was satisfaction there.

Fuck it. You’d likely die for this and even with him by your side you were not going to get out of this building unless they let you out.

“Care for a drink?” You ask, lips quirking in a smile. He says nothing, just cocks his head a bit to the side. You shrug, “Suit yourself. I’m getting one.” Or several.

To your surprise, the door to the cell opens. You stroll out hearing him just behind you. Good.

“Hey!” A woman calls out. “What about me?” Honestly, you’d forgotten about her entirely.

“What about you?” Is all you toss over your shoulder as the cell slams shut behind you.

There was nothing you could do for her now, hell there wasn’t anything you could truly do for yourself. It would be a miracle if you made it back to Eric’s office without a bullet in your head. The Soldier may even be the one to put it there, he may be biding his time - though something in you doubted this.

You’d spared the woman all you could, the rest would be up to her.

The private elevator slides open, revealing Eric’s office, not a guard, soldier, or assassin in sight - well, save for the one you rode up with. You’re surprised but not relieved. They’d come, and soon.

You raise your hands to rub your face only to be hit with the copper tang of blood - your right arm covered almost to the elbow. Suddenly you’re too hot, burning, your chest tight.

Outside the floor to ceiling window, London glitters like something in a fairytale. You rush to it, pressing your face to the cool glass, forcing your mind to focus on the city around you. Even through the thick glass, you can hear the rush of the wind, the slightest hum of traffic below.

Breathe, Catherine, you try to coach yourself. Breathe. But you can’t.

The blood paired with the city sounds that should have been impossible for you to hear makes you realize something you’d been foolish to miss in the first place. They would not kill you. Not now.

Eric had once said that Hydra didn’t make a habit of wasting good parts, one look at The Soldier was a fair reminder of that. Before, you’d been valuable enough but ultimately replaceable - now you were an investment.

“Someone is coming.” The Soldier’s voice cuts through your panic like a knife. You turn to see him by the door, arms crossed. Whether he was keeping you in or others out you couldn’t know.

Taking a shaky breath you nod, “Thought they’d be faster about it if I’m being honest.” As the doorknob turns his hand moves for the knife in his belt. Interesting.

“No,” you shake your head. He stands at attention instead, looking more like a blood-spattered statue than a man. You lean against the desk as the door swings open to reveal -

“Secretary Pierce?” You don’t try to hide the surprise in your voice, he wasn’t exactly who you’d expect to come for you.

“Miss Clayton,” he smiles brightly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here. It’s been too long,” he holds out a hand.

“Ah,” you hold up your red right palm. “Haven’t had a chance to freshen up. Please, make yourself comfortable,” you gesture to the bar cart. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Freshen up? You lean against the bathroom door judging yourself. Freshen up. As though you’d been out for a light jog rather than literally shoving your hand through your own father’s chest. Freshen up. Christ.

You catch your reflection in the mirror and freeze.

Blood not only covered your arm but had soaked into your shirt, staining your chest, leaving splatters up your neck and on your face. Despite the gore, you looked fresh, skin dewy and bright, your eyes sparkling. It painted an unsettling image.

Even so… you smiled.

He was dead. That bastard you’d once called Papa. Dead. By your hand.

No matter what followed, no matter what they did to you, your Mother had her justice today. They couldn’t take that away.

You wash your hands as best you can and wipe some of the blood off your face. Getting rid of the rest would be impossible right now and there was a part of you that didn’t want it gone. Let them see it.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you say exiting the bathroom.

“No apologies needed. Honestly, I wanted to give you time to process before speaking with you, but the others thought it best we move quickly.”

“I see,” you turn to the bar cart to make a drink.

“So?” You sigh as you take a seat in the wingback across from where Pierce had settled himself. He sips his drink before speaking.

“Of course we want to give you time to transition. It will be an abrupt change to your lifestyle, especially for someone so young - but we feel confident that you’ll manage spectacularly. You’ve always-”

“Excuse me, Secretary-”

“Alex, please.”

“Alex,” it felt strange to call this man who you’d known your whole life by his first name. “I’m not sure I follow. I just committed treason and-”

“I’d view it more like taking out the trash.” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Alex looks like he wants to spit, “Your father was... dedicated, to the cause. However, there are some sins that simply can’t be overlooked.” His intense eyes meet yours.

“We didn’t know for certain until today how far his depravity went. I don’t ask you to forgive us for that, but as a father, I would never have let that…” He shakes his head, taking a deep drink.

“I’m sorry,” he looks to you confused. “About your daughter. About Jennifer.”

His face softens, “Thank you.” He sneers, “Your father-”

“Eric,” you correct him.

“Eric,” he nods, seeming to understand. “He said-”

“Let me guess, ��Blood will out.’”

“Yes, as though it was a personal failing - her death.” You look away, disgusted. “But you are not him.” Your gaze shoots back to him.

“Miss-”

“Catherine,” you say smiling.

“Catherine. You are what we’ve waited so long for. A child of Hydra, fit to lead us into the new age.” Your eyes narrow. “You’ll be taking your - Eric’s seat.”

You can’t help but be shocked. Taking what should have been Jennifer’s seat had been enough of an upset, to take Eric’s… It would mean-

“It will be an honor to have you serve with me in the first seat.” The first seat, the head of The Council that governed Hydra, was always held as a joint position. “And it will be an even greater honor when you ascend even higher.”

“Higher?” There was no higher seat.

“In time.” Alex leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking up at you. “While Hydra has many heads it has always been in need of a strong body, one that will not easily bow to the weight of time or illness, one that has transcended so many of our meer human weaknesses. I believe that you were meant to be this body, Catherine.”

“I… I’m humbled,” you almost choke on the word. It was the right response though, judging by Alex’s smile.

“I will take that as you accepting,” he says it like you have a choice.

“Of course!” You force joy into your tone.

“Fantastic!” He stands, raising his glass. You join him. “To a bright future. Hail Hydra!”

“Hail Hydra,” you echo as your glasses clink together. The whiskey tastes like dust on your tongue.

“As I said, we want to give you some time to transition. However, we will need to move quickly to ensure things continue to run smoothly.”

“I completely understand. I shouldn’t need too much time.” You look around this office, a space you’d spent so much time, a space filled with so many terrible memories. “Mainly, I’ll need to… clean house.”

Alex gives a knowing nod, “Absolutely. You have full power to change and remove,” he holds your gaze for a moment, “whatever and whomever you see fit.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes settle on the soldier. That sense of conviction from earlier floods you again, the slightest rumblings of a very dangerous idea making their way around your mind.

“Also,” you stride to the bar cart and refill your drink, making a gesture to do the same for Alex. He accepts. “While I can no doubt protect myself, I will need some additional security to allow me to more fully focus on the needs of the organization. No doubt, there will be those who will see this ascension as overstepping on my part.”

“Unfortunately,” Alex concedes. “You can, of course, have any security detail Eric employed.” He catches your cocked brow, “Ah, yes. Well, you can have your choice of Hydra for your own detail.”

“I had a thought actually,” you take a sip before continuing. “I’d like The Soldier.” Alex looks from you to The Soldier, still standing in the same place he was when Alex had entered.

“The Soldier…” He says thoughtfully.

“Yes. I’d prefer to not have to doubt the integrity of my security detail, especially given the unique situation I’m finding myself in. Typically someone in this position would have had years to form their inner circle - I haven’t had such a luxury.”

“Of course,” you add, “he’d still be at the full disposal of Hydra should he be needed.”

Alex nods, “I see no problem with it. He’s housed under European jurisdiction as it is and you clearly have a steady command of him - no small feat I’ll have you know.”

“Lovely.”

“Any other immediate needs to make this an easier transition?” Alex asks sincerely.

“Just one,” you walk back to the chairs and sit. “The woman Eric was going to have killed. What was her crime?” Alex shifted, seeming a bit uncomfortable.

“She was a Brown Widow,” he began.

“A what?” You’d never heard of such a thing.

He purses his lips, “Of course, Eric wouldn’t tell you about the Brown Widows.” He sighs, “The Brown Widow program is a sister to the Black Widow program. Brown Widows are trained in much the same way, in fact, they begin in the Black Widow program before being hand-selected to be Brown Widows. They’re chosen for having a more… genteel temperament if you will. More suited to domesticity than your typical Black Widow graduate.”

A memory tingles in the back of your mind, just out of reach.

“Your mother was a Brown Widow.”

You wanted to marry a spider, your mother had spoken those words when she’d garroted Eric the night she died.

“Her death was not sanctioned, Catherine. I tried to push for an investigation-”

You shake your head, “It’s in the past.”

“She was a spectacular woman. Eric always had to have the best-”

“So the woman?” You don’t want to think about your mother anymore. Can’t bear the weight of knowing that she could have killed Eric at any time, could have run, but she didn’t… Because of you.

“Yes,” he clears his throat, “the woman from this evening, was a Brown Widow. She’d been assigned to a lower level associate. He was apparently… unpleasant.” You note that Alex won’t meet your eyes and suspect you know what kind of unpleasantness he means. “She may have removed a specific part of his anatomy in retaliation before fleeing.” You bite your lip to restrain a smile.

“Is she dead?”

“Not at all. We agreed with your decision. Some punishment should likely be metered but not what Eric had in mind.”

“I’d like to have her as my personal assistant.”

“Oh?”

“What better way to foster loyalty than saving someone’s life?”

Alex smiled, “Wise. I’ll have her sent up.”

“Thank you. I feel that puts me in a good position to get moving quickly.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Alex says finishing his drink and standing. He sets his glass on the side table and extends his hand once more.

“This couldn’t have been a better outcome, in my opinion, Catherine. You’re going to do incredible things. This is only the beginning.”

You take his hand, giving it a firm shake. “I couldn’t agree more, Alex. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“We will connect soon.”

“I look forward to it,” you open the door to let him out.

As soon as he is on the elevator you call out to Eric’s former secretary. “Anita, can you join me?” You don’t wait for an answer, instead, you turn back into the office to refill your drink and wait.

She enters a minute later, nervous energy rolling off of her. Her eyes grow wider by the second as she takes in your blood-soaked form leaning casually against Eric’s desk.

“Slackjawed isn’t a good look for you, Anita.” She snaps her jaw shut.

“W-What can I do for you Miss Cathe-”

“Madam Clayton will do.” Her eyes somehow manage to get wider, making her look like one of those popeyed pugs she doted on. “Will this arrangement be a problem for you?” The vile woman had served your father longer than you’d been alive.

“No, Madam Clayton, of course not.”

“Good. I need a change of clothes. One for The Soldier as well, and clothing for the woman being sent up - she should be about a size eight.”

“Yes, Maam.” She turns, her wiry frame trembling.

“Oh. One more thing, Anita.” She freezes, no doubt expecting something awful. “I want every bit of information on The Soldier. I’ll need all of this within the hour.” Nervously she eyes the statue-like man, you can hear her heartbeat rise.

“But, Madame Catherine… I… I don’t.”

“Anita?”

“Y-yes?” You hold her bulging eyes, staring her down until you knew she was about to break.

“My father wouldn’t tolerate excuses. Neither will I. Is that clear?”

“Of course,” she squeaks. “Yes, Maam.” With one last glance at The Soldier, she scurries from the room.

Rounding the desk you finish the rest of the entirely, and annoyingly, ineffective whiskey before plopping down hard in the desk chair. Looking across the room you see that The Soldier had recrossed his arms, eyes studying you with unnerving intensity.

A lifetime of violence had taught you how to scent it. Right now, it was beginning to crackle in the air.

He moved so quickly you almost missed it. Almost.

Your hand moves under the desk, gripping the Glock you knew would be waiting. As he went to vault the desk you push the chair back, rolling you toward the window and aim right between his eyes. He freezes, crouched on the desk, murder in his eyes.

“I am not your enemy,” you say softly, remaining seated.

“Hail Hydra,” he sneers. His hatred feels like a slap.

You release the gun, letting it dangle on your finger, from the trigger before you stand slowly, hands up, and place it on the desk before him. Leaning in so close you can feel his breath you return his hard stare.

“Fuck. Hydra,” you growl.

Never had you been grateful that this room was off the grid, Pierce had confirmed that earlier. Had they eyes or ears here they’d have known the things Eric had done to you. Even so… you didn’t dare say anything more.

It must have been enough because his mood shifts back to a skeptical neutral. Slowly he backs up, standing on the other side of the desk. Neither of you speak, you just stare, assessing if you were friend or foe until a buzz sounds from the phone on the desk.

“Yes?” You ask pressing the intercom button.

“I h-have the clothing you requested. The woman should be up soon.”

“And the information on The Soldier?”

“I’m getting it to-together now.” That tremulous little stammer was beginning to grate your nerves.

“Bring the clothes.”

One bag contained three pairs of black boots, practical though none of you would leave here in them. The other revealed three sets of black hoodies, caps, tees, and bluejeans. They’d do.

“Here,” you hold out the pile of clothes to him. He eyes them. “Look, even if you weren’t covered in blood you can’t go out on the street looking like Edward fucking Scissorhands.” Did they have a point in dressing the man like he was on his way to a cheap dungeon?

Finally, he takes them.

“You can use the bathroom,” you turn to pull your own clothes out. “Oh, and be sure to check them for-” He nods, turning for the bathroom. Clothing could easily conceal trackers and bugs - it was why the boots would remain here unused.

You meticulously check the clothes provided for you and the woman, pleased to find nothing suspicious. In the small closet where Eric kept a few changes of clothes, you find the trainers you were hoping for. They’d be far too large for either you or the woman but at least you knew they’d be clean.

Just as you pull the plain black tee over your head The Soldier walks out. His own tee stretches tight across his chest, the metal arm somehow seeming more alarming when paired with the plain clothes. Still, no one could deny that the man was a specimen.

Drawing your eyes away you pluck the card of hair elastics from the bag, handing one to him. “If you wanted to pull your hair back.” He takes it, his eyes landing on your throat.

“You still have,” he gestures to his own neck.

“Oh, right. If they come with the woman would you mind letting them in?” He says nothing. With a sigh, you duck into the bathroom to remove the lingering traces of blood.

You hear the door to the office open followed by a muffled cry of alarm. When you pop your head out of the bathroom the woman stands, still nude, in fighting form. Much more firey than when she was in the cell.

“Don’t fucking come near me,” she growls in an American accent. The Soldier stands several feet away, hands tucked into the pocket of his jeans, hair up in a low ponytail.

“He isn’t going to harm you,” you say stepping out. Though, you didn’t entirely know if that was true. He’d been ready to eviscerate you not a half-hour ago. The woman throws you a wild glare.

“I’m Catherine Clayton,” you grab the hoodie intended for The Soldier from the pile and toss it to her. Christ, they couldn’t even be bothered to give the woman a towel to cover herself with. It’s just long enough to cover her.

“I know what you are,” she spits. What. Not who.

“I highly doubt that.” The woman didn’t know the half of it. “Drink?” You ask nodding to the bar cart.

“So now I’m invited to drinks?” You can’t help but smile.

“In defense of my rudeness earlier, I truly thought I’d be dead or worse by now. Seeing as that’s not the case,” you shrug.

“Whiskey,” the woman says, stepping closer but still keeping a wary eye on The Soldier.

You pour her a glass and look to The Soldier, “And you?” He simply glares and turns to resume a vigil by the door.

Surprisingly she sniffs the glass only once and downs it all in one go before you take a drink. You raise a brow and reach for the glass to refill it.

She shrugs, “If I’m going to go out there are worse ways than poisoned whiskey.”

“I’ll drink to that.” You gesture for her to have a seat. She eyes eye chair and simply leans against it, you don’t miss the slight spark of defiance in her chestnut eyes.

Rather than sit in a chair yourself you hop onto the desktop, facing her, and wait for her to ask the question.

“What do you want from me?”

“I’d like to offer you a job.” She looks at you disbelieving.

“A job.” You nod. “I’m not sure if you’ve seen my resume lately, but I didn’t exactly leave my last position on amicable terms.”

“I’m well aware. In fact, it’s what made you a prime candidate for the position.” She studies you as you continue. “I’m not looking for someone loyal to the cause. I need someone loyal to me.” You can see the flames of curiosity begin to rise.

“And what does loyalty to you look like?” She asks before taking a sip of her whiskey.

“Details will come in time. But, from what I hear of you, I feel our intentions may align nicely.”

Finally, she pushes away from the chair and steps closer, “Fuck it. I’m in.” You hadn’t expected it to be so easy. Your skepticism must show.

“Look, I’d rather answer to a woman than another mouth breathing wanna be Mussolini. And,” her stare intensifies, “anyone with the spine to put down that monster like you did today is pretty good in my book.”

She extends her right hand. Smiling you hop off the desk and take it.

“I’m Mara.”

“Pleasure.”

“So,” you release your shake and she finishes her drink, “what do ya need from me boss?”

“On paper, you’ll be my personal assistant.”

“And off the books?”

“We’ll get to that.” You nod to the clothes, “For now go ahead and get changed. That hoodie is his.” Tension visibly rolls over her.

Without another word, she grabs the clothes and disappears into the bathroom. A moment later the intercom buzzes. You press the button but say nothing.

“Ma-Madam Clayton, I have the f-files on The Soldier you requested.”

“Good. Before you bring them, how much cash do we have on hand?”

“Oh, I can provide you with the ca-”

“I asked a clear question, Anita.” You’d all need a place to stay until you could get your private finances sorted. With Eric gone it should be easier to do so, especially since you’d spent the last three years building a stockpile even Hydra couldn’t trace. Still, for the next few nights you all needed a safe - or at least safe enough - place and using a card would let Hydra know exactly where you were.

“Yes, so-sorry Madam. We have over one hundred thousand-”

“Bring me forty of it along with the files.” You shut the intercom off and wait for the tentative knock.

It comes as Mara steps out of the bathroom. She eyes The Soldier as he opens the door and warily drapes his hoodie over the wingback before standing beside you.

Anita, carrying two banker boxes stacked beneath her chin stumbles in. The Soldier catches her by the shoulder before she topples, causing her to freeze until she catches sight of Mara. Her expression shifts from shock to indignation.

She pulls away from The Soldier’s grip, blustering to the small table sitting between the wingback chairs. Straightening her dowdy blouse she plucks a thick envelope from the top.

“The files and money, Madam Catherine.” She shoots Mara a filthy glare. Mara responds with a fox-like grin that further flusters the older woman.

“Madam,” she clips out in a nasal tone as you pull the money out.

“That will be all, Anita,” you don’t even look up at her as you ensure the bills are all there and authentic.

“Madam,” she says again. Slowly you raise your eyes to meet her pathetic attempt at a confident glare. “This-this, woman,” she spits. “She’s to be disposed of! Your father wanted-” The rest of her words are lost in a garbled scream, your grip on her throat trapping the sound.

For a split second, you’re a bit disoriented by the speed at which you moved, so much so that you almost squeeze too tight. With effort, you relax your grip. This was not her time to die.

“Anita,” you purr, “who’s blood do you suppose that was earlier?”

“Mr-Mr. Clayton,” she manages to eke out.

“That’s right!” You say in a tone one may take with a child. “And knowing that, do you suppose I give one holy fuck about anything that beast wanted?” You stare into her bulging eyes, watch her pasty skin burn red with fear and shame - both tasted so sweet. How many times had she turned a blind eye…

She shakes her head.

“Good,” you toss her to the ground. She rolls onto all fours, gasping for air as she crawls away to put distance between you.

“Oh, and Anita,” her whole body goes rigid. “If you ever bring him up again, I’ll do things to you that would make the Devil himself cringe. Do we have an understanding?”

She nods.

“Excellent. That is all, Anita.” She manages to rise to her feet, though her body remained deeply bowed as she scuttled out the door.

You could feel the eyes of the others on you.

“Does anyone here have a problem with how that was handled?” You ask. The Soldier simply looks at you with narrow eyes.

“Not me.” Mara hops onto the desk. One out of two was good enough.

“Here,” you tuck a wad of bills into your pocket and hand her the envelope. “That’s thirty thousand pounds. It should be more than enough to get us ensconced in a good hotel. I’d prefer a penthouse, two bedrooms, with clear sightlines to the roofs of the surrounding buildings. But mainly something as private as possible.” She nods. “Book a room for yourself as well.”

You cross to one of the bookshelves, giving the bottom a swift kick. The old mechanism groaned as it slid open to reveal a small closet filled with an arsenal.

“Help yourselves.”

“Nice,” Mara comments with sparkling eyes. The Soldier doesn’t make a move.

“There’s another elevator in there,” you tell her. “It will take you to the street.”

“Where should we rendezvous?”

“French House,” it would be easy enough for you and The Soldier to disappear into the ever-crowded pub.

“Got it,” she slips a gun into her waistband. “Shoes?”

“Oh!” You kick off your blood-spattered black trainers. “Take these. I found another clean pair.”

“See you soon!” Mara tosses over her shoulder as the elevator closes.

Within two hours you’re walking into the Dome penthouse over The Hotel Cafe Royal. The terrace overlooked the London skyline and provided an easy escape should it be necessary.

“I have to admit, Mara. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” she kicks off your old trainers, slipping into a new pair. “Money talks, so it wasn’t exactly difficult.” You look out one of the curved windows to the terrace.

“What now?” She asks from behind you.

“Now,” you sigh, “rest.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Order food to your room, have a soak, get drunk. Whatever you need.” You don’t mistake the relief that floods her face. “I’ll ring you tomorrow,” you hold up the burner phone that matched her own.

“Ok,” she sighs.

“Thank you, Mara.”

“For what?”

“For trusting me this far.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” she says with a wink. The Soldier reenters the living room and she studies him. “Be careful.”

You nod, “Goodnight.” With that, she leaves.

“I’m taking a bath,” you say to him. “I assume you chose your room?” His brows knit, a bit confused.

“There are two additional bedrooms, what did you think I was going to have you do? Stand at attention all night?” His cold glare is enough of an answer. “Pick a room. Order food. Do whatever you want.” You turn on your heel and stalk toward the bathroom.

You sink under the scalding water, hoping it will help clear your mind, allow the fragments of a plan that had been ricocheting around in your skull become something solid and tangible. Instead... it reminds you of the hot slick feeling of Eric’s blood.

Gasping for air, you fling yourself from the tub, sending the small table of neatly stacked towels flying into the wall. With no small effort, you force your eyes open, half expecting to see your whole body coated in the thick red substance.

There’s nothing. Of course, there was nothing. Nothing besides The Soldier, standing in the entrance, concern coloring his features.

“I’m fine,” you huff, cheeks burning a bit from embarrassment. “A little privacy?” He seems to flush a bit himself and heads wordlessly from the room.

A shower was clearly the best option.

You wrap yourself in a plush robe before stepping from the bathroom, expecting to see the soldier in the living room. But he wasn’t there.

No matter. You head onto the terrace, taking in the spectacular view and relishing the cold night air on your damp skin.

Now clarity comes.

You hear the rustle of someone behind you, the slightest hum of gears indicating that it was The Soldier.

“I’m going to burn it all down.” The words feel electric on your tongue. “All of Hydra.”

Your mother was wrong. You were not more than this, more than them.

She was also wrong about evil. Sometimes the only thing strong enough to defeat it was an equal…

Your father had made you such an equal. Honed you into a weapon, something as dark and deadly as Hydra itself. Being bred in the belly of that beast you knew its anatomy, its every weak spot, every flaw.

They wanted to make you the body. Instead, you’d be a cancer, consuming the beast from the inside out.

You turn to him, “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

His intense eyes seem to sparkle and a slight smile curls his lips.

“Not at all.”

Relief surges through your body. You knew what you wanted to accomplish was an olympian task and without the strength and fear The Soldier afforded you - well it would have become a near-impossible one.

A knock draws both your attention.

“I ordered food,” he says beginning to turn away. “For both of us.”

The gesture catches you so off guard that it renders you immobile for a moment. When you finally make it inside he’s moving the boxes filled with information on him to the ground to clear the table for food.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I ordered several things.” The cart was stacked to bursting and the smells rising from it made your mouth water. But there on the bottom, a familiar package catches your eye.

Chocolate digestive biscuits. The same kind you shared with him on that night so long ago. Silently you bend to retrieve them, looking from the biscuits to him a couple of times before speaking.

“You do remember.” He nods. Confusion roils, “Then why did you charge me earlier if-”

“People change.” He pulls the cover off of a trey revealing a cheeseburger and fries and moves it to the table. You think he’ll say more but, instead, he starts eating. The growling of your stomach convinces you to not press the subject and instead locate the curry you can scent hiding under one of those covered trays.

Honestly, you’d never felt this hungry. You tear through the red curry and move on to another tray, this one housing a second burger and fries. It’s not until you’re done with that and are nibbling on a poor excuse for pizza that you actually slow.

“I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”

He smiles a bit, taking a slice of the pizza, “I think it’s the serum. I’m always hungry.”

You study him for a moment, “Any other insights on that front?”

He shrugs, “Things can be overwhelming,” he clears his throat, “sensations. Even your own body can seem too loud. You feel… more. Everything’s dialed up so you may be stronger, harder to kill, but it doesn’t mean shit hurts less.” That was actually very good information. “I’m sure there’s plenty of information in those boxes.” You don’t miss the bitter edge in his voice.

Silence hangs thick for a bit until he asks, “Did you choose this?”

“Choose what?” You meet his intense gaze.

“The serum. Did you let them do this to you?”

“Do you think my bastard father would have let me choose something like this?” You scoff. Anger flares in your chest, “No.” You push away from the table and begin to pace.

“I was simply informed that whatever life I thought I could build for myself was over. That I had to, yet again, prove myself worthy of something I never wanted and never asked for. That I had better not, disappoint.” You feel your body start to shake, “Because even my death, death at their hands, would have been a disgrace.”

“I got milk too,” he says behind you.

“What?” The statement seemed absurd until you turned to see him pouring two glasses, the biscuits on the table. Somehow the sight tamps down the flame of your rage.

“Oh,” you collapse on the couch, hiding your face in your hands. Maybe emotions, like sensations, were dialed up because you couldn’t seem to get a hold of yours.

“I’m sorry,” his voice comes from closer than you expect. Looking up you see him kneeling before you, worry etched across his face, a lock of hair falling from his ponytail.

“I didn’t… I should have…” He seems to struggle to find the words suddenly. “I don’t have space to speak freely… ever. And I-”

“You’re free. Or as free as I can make you.” You couldn’t truly grant him freedom that you yourself didn’t possess, but you hoped it was something. The emotion that shows in his eyes is beyond words but it makes your chest constrict all the same.

“Thank you,” his voice cracks a bit at the end and he quickly stands.

For the next hour, you both burn through the biscuits in comfortable silence. Once they’re gone you slump back into the deep cushions of the couch, exhaustion crashing over you.

“I could sleep for three days.” You wished. Sleep and you had a tense relationship at best.

“You should rest.” He says.

Sighing you nod and stand, turning toward the master suite attached to the living room.

“Actually,” he begins. You look back.

“Yes?”

“You should probably take one of the back rooms. Less direct access from the terrace.” He had a point, there were no actual doors to the master bed or bathroom, just an open space cut up with walls that didn’t quite reach the high ceiling and the terrace wrapped around almost the entire suite.

“I’ll take whichever. Lead the way.” You hadn’t really inspected the other rooms.

He guides you to the one furthest from the entry assuring you that he’ll hear anyone who comes.

“You’ll be safe,” he says, reminding you of the vigil he kept for you years ago - protecting you from the monster in your own home. You nod, in acceptance and open the door.

“One thing,” you turn to him. “What you did back there, to Eric. Was that because I-“

“I did it for both of us.” You don’t think you imagine the slight spark of satisfaction in his expression.

“Goodnight, Catherine.”

“Goodnight.” You realize suddenly that you don’t know his name, he never offered it, and knowing what little you did about him you wondered if he even knew…

That would be the first thing you’d find in those files tomorrow. You couldn’t give him true freedom, not yet, but you could damn well give him his name back.

---

TAGS: @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2 @wildmoonflower @cutie1365 @this-kitten-is-smitten @nighttwingg @handplucked @jewelofwinter @whiskeywinter89 @damnaged-princess @the7intheimpala @saaamsayshi @7minutes-tomidnight @amorluzymelodia @auroraluna777 @leniaana @awkwardlyhot @ilovespideyyy @jaxthebookworm @docharleythegeekqueen @olympos-92

NOTE: Why does The Soldier remember her? Given what we know about him I feel like that may be one of the biggest (most frustrating) questions at the end of this so I just want to share that you’ll get the answer in the next chapter.

#the winter solider x reader #bucky x reader #winter solider x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark fic #the winter soldier

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imagine-lcorp · 4 years

Text

Mustang Ride (Part XII)

A/N: Okay okay, i know, i know, it’s been a while but my life rigth now is kinda crazy, good news we’re still here!!!! Also here is to all of you who have been waiting for the continuation of this series, you’re great, love ya guys!!!!

Lena Luthor x Shapeshifter!R//Word Count: 1,348

#Mustang Ride Series: Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part X - Part XI - Part XII - Part XIII (WIP) -------------------------------------------------------

"How?" You whispered as Jeffrey walked around your bed. He smiled with a hint of pride and malice in her eyes and you felt a cold shiver down your spine.

"It took me a while, you know, finding you." He took a seat on a chair that stood in the corner of the room and made himself comfortable.

For a moment, the panic you started to feel around Jeffrey was replaced with anger. You remembered him from your younger years and the way he used to be didn't seem to have changed at all. He had always been annoying, believing himself the king of the playground, finding some sort of delight preying on other kids he had considered weaker than him. This time, however, the anger came from something more, the suspicion that he had been the reason you were there, trapped and chained.

"How?" You repeated.

"You remember that day in the woods, don't you? I had never seen someone do what you did that day and, I admit, you left quite an impression on me. It was the first time I ever felt truly...terrified." He placed his elbows on his knees and leaned his head towards you.

That last day of school before winter break came again to your mind. The late afternoon when Jeffrey and his friends had put their hands on you and dragged you into the forest. The useless screams that came from your mouth, the pointless fight you had tried to put against them, the monster they had forced you to become.

"But no one believed a word of what I had seen. You had disappeared after that day and I had no further evidence to proof what monster you were." His eyes reflected nothing but resentment as he looked at you. "I was the fucking boy who cried wolf."

"If that's all you wanted, hunting me, why am I here?"

"Well, things are a bit more complicated than that now, considering this is the second time I had to go after you." The corner of his lips lifted in a devilish smirk as your eyes opened in shock.

"Y-you..."

"Oh, yes. You may not know this but back in the day my family was in the hunting business. They were bounty hunters, to be more accurate. So when I took over the business, I made you my first mission."

According to Jeffrey, he had spent a good couple of years trying to track you down. All his searches had been useless until he met Roulette and she had offered a deal he couldn't really say no to. He would hunt aliens for her and in exchange he would receive a considerable amount of money, with an extra if the aliens he brought her were also good fighters. It keep going for a couple of years until Roulette asked him to go after an specific person.

She had talked to him about this alien species capable of changing its form to whatever it wanted. The problem was that she had never found one until she heard the rumors about you. So she sent him on a quest to find you and, even with the little information she had about you, he did it.

"I would have loved to just shoot you the moment I saw you but the idea of watching you get beaten by a bunch of aliens was much more compelling."

You tried to move once again, pulling yourself up with your arms, but it was useless and painful as the ache in your back and the dizziness of the sedatives hit you again. You fell back in the bed with a couple of sweat drops forming in your forehead from the effort and noticing your restrains were also doing its job at keeping you there.

"Oh, you're not getting out of here so easily. The doctors are not done yet toying with you."

"What are they doing with me?" You growled.

"I can't believe you haven't figured that yet. I guess your brain doesn't work like it used to after all the shit they have been injecting you." He smiled once again.

The door of the room opened a second later, Lillian entered with Henshaw following behind and pushing a medical cart full with medical instruments, ampules and test tubes, all shapes, sizes and colors.

"Well, I see you already came to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hex." She said and turned to look at the medical instruments. "Unfortunately, your time with our guest here is over. I must ask you to leave so we can continue with our work."

Jeffrey stepped out of the chair with an annoyed expression and walked to the other side of your bed, facing Lillian and Henshaw.

"I would like to see it, if you don't mind. I wanna be prepared to what you gonna be doing with me too." He said.

"There's no need, Mr. Hex, and I assure you we're going to be more gentle with you, if that's what you're worried about." Lillian directed him a death stare and you were confused as to why they would be doing the same to him. You were not against it if it meant making him suffer for a while but you couldn't think of a reason why they would be doing this to him. "Now, I wouldn't want to ask my partner here to escort you out of the room."

Henshaw left the cart near Lillian and stood like a sentinel, looking at Jeffrey with a death stare. "You should go."

"Have fun without me then." He said and started to walk to the door as Lillian followed his stride.

You watched the scene unfold with a frown, still confused and shocked about what Jeffrey had said. It wasn't enough that you were trapped like a lab rat in an unknown place at the mercy of Lillian Luthor and her cyborg guard dog but now Jeffrey was part of the equation.

Everyone there had a reason to keep you where you were and it wasn't easy to imagine why. Everyone seemed to have their own agenda about you. If Roulette wanted you back on the ring then, why was Lilian keeping you? If Lillian only wanted you as her test subject, why keep Roulette and Jeffrey around? And if Jeffrey wanted to mess up with you, why did he need any of them?

"Do you know the story of Periclymenus?"

"Who?"

"He was a Greek prince. His grandfather Poseidon gave him the ability to transform himself into various animals. A lion, a snake, a swarm of bees." She pulled away, back to the medical cart. "Unfortunately, he was murdered by Heracles when he invaded his kingdom. They fought but, of course, Heracles was stronger. Periclymenus couldn't escape him and he inevitably died at the hands of the invader."

Lillian returned her attention to you and then at the medical cart. She took a syringe from it and walked towards you, to inject its content in your IV bag.

"What do you think was the cause of his defeat?" She said pulling the syringe away and not expecting a real answer from you. "If you think about it, Heracles only had his strength against Periclymenus' gift. So, how did Heracles manage what he did?"

You started to feel numb.

"Because it was still the strength of one man against the force of one that felt like a thousand." She declared. "I like to think, if Periclymenus had possessed the same strength as Heracles, he would have succeeded instead."

"I guess we will never know." It was becoming difficult to stay awake with your body feeling broken and your mind spinning.

"Oh, but we will and you're helping us it."

"What are you doing with me?" You asked once again.

"Our kingdom is at war, (Y/N), and we need a new champion. One bred from the blood of the gods, old and new." She smiled at you. "This time, I'm going to make sure we conquer." She said and all the light faded out.

#mustang ride #mustang ride series #lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor imagines #shapeshifter #shapeshifter reader #Shapeshifter!Reader #series #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x you #lena x reader #lena x you

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ghost-ghost-baby · 5 years

Text

//Immortal// Todobakudeku x reader

a/n: i hate this but it aint gettin any better and i have other stuff i wanna write ya know,,, this was meant to just be hcs but uh,,, now it more i guess

requests: open

You’d been born with two quirks, a pretty standard blood quirk, controlling people by ingesting their blood, it was the one that got you into the hero course, actually. But there was another one, you’d discovered much, much later. You’d discovered it when you were fourteen, you were home alone, and the spider that bit you? The one you knew killed people? Well, it hadn’t killed you. You didn’t tell anyone, testing it out first with fire and knives and whatever you could think of, or get your hands on. It was solved, you couldn’t die, you could get injured, of course, but you couldn’t die.

You’d told Denk, he was your best friend, after all, but other than that? Well why would you? It could be a great advantage against villains! You and Denki were legends around UA by third year, seeing as you couldn’t die, you could act on all the impulsive, stupid thoughts either of you had. So of course you made an impression on people, but it went a tad further with.... certain students. Izuku had noticed you in first year, he’d been walking to class when he’d seen you and Denki on top of the roof, you were sitting in a shopping cart, and Denki was about to push you off. You’d been laughing, head thrown back and sunlight making your hair glow. He’d fallen in love right then and there. Shoto was the next to notice you, it was second year and you were in the sports festival, you hadn’t won, but you’d fought hard, hard enough to catch everyone's attention. Katsuki noticed you last, he was always so caught up being the best, he hadn’t noticed you until you were rising up the ranks, soon top of your class. He insisted he only wanted to beat you, but it turned into a lot… lot more.

You were rather oblivious to this, focused on Denki and Shinso and whatever dumb thing you’d come up with next. They ran into each other in third year, Izuku had been spying on you since first year, when Shoto and Katsuki started as well they were bound to expose themselves and each other. After a lot of yelling, and Katsuki trying to strangle Shoto they finally decided to put aside their differences, in order to get you.

Izuku was the most approachable, and out of all of them he was the one you talked to most, so the plan revolved around him gaining your trust. It was almost too easy, if he was being honest. All he had to do was talk to Denki a couple times, then he was in your little friendship bubble.

After that he started hanging out with you more, something you didn’t mind seeing as he was kinda cute, and it meant you didn’t have to third wheel Denki and Shinso anymore. Izuku introduced you to Shoto, and then Katsuki. You didn’t hit it off right away, but they always seemed to be there, and they grew on you. By third year you were close with the three of them, but not close enough to tell them about your second quirk, even if the four of you had a… romantic… thing going. Then they got… annoying, Katsuki in particular, who you’d almost constantly annoy by joining Izuku and calling him ‘Kacchan.’

You were with Denki again, you’d come up with an idea and you needed him there to film it, of course. It was your greatest idea yet, you were going to roller skate down the roof, jump off, over Shinso, and then land inside a circle of thumbtacks. You were quite proud of yourself for coming up with it, truth be told. It’d been awhile since you did anything, you’d been caught up with… you didn't know what to call them? Boyfriends???

Everything was set up, you were sitting on the roof, tying your skates when Katsuki blasted up, screaming some nonsense about how you were stupid, and it was dangerous. You ignored him, something you’d gotten good at, but that was much, much harder once Izuku and Shoto appeared. It would have been scarier if Izuku wasn’t carrying Shoto bridal style, and if Shoto hadn’t looked so deadpan. Honestly you didn’t take it seriously, standing up when you were ready and only acknowledging them then.

“Hey guys, whats up?” You said, acting as if the four of you weren’t standing on a roof in the middle of the day.

“What’s up, Y/n? Why the fuck are you standing out on the roof?” Katsuki grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from the edge and closer to him.

“Y-Yeah, it’s dangerous! You could fall! And get hurt!” Izuku had finally put Shoto down, who dusted himself off before taking their side.

“Yes, and we don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Aw, c’mon Izuku, I thought you’d at least be down for it!” You did your best puppy dog eyes, knowing damn well Izuku was the one who gave in easiest.

“Oi, cut that shit out Y/n, how the fuck did you even get up here?” Katsuki ruined your plan, shooting a glare at Izuku, who only frowned as Shoto wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“I don’t know I just kinda… climbed?” You smiled at the blonde, the action doing nothing to get rid of his scowl.

“Well, we need to get you back down, where it’s safe.” Shoto reached out to take your hand, ignoring the huff from Katsuki as you stepped away.

“It’s fine guys, look!” You grinned, somehow managing to dodge around them and skate down the roof, whooping and doing a flip before you landed, on your feet.

“See, perfectly safe!” You turned and bowed, standing up with a grin that only lasted a second before Izuku was barreling into you. It was a miracle the two of you didn’t fall, you had no idea how he managed to keep you both upright with how much he was crying and babbling.

“How could you do that, Y/n! You-You could have been hurt! You could have died! What if you’d landed wrong and-and broken your neck? I wouldn’t be able to live without you!”

“Uuuh…”

“Y/n! What the fuck were you thinking?”

“That was incredibly dangerous, Y/n, you’re lucky you didn’t get hurt.”

Honestly, they acted like you jumped into a pit of knives or something, but Izuku crying always made you feel guilty.

“Hey, Izuku, baby, I’m good, okay? You don’t need to worry.”

“P-promise that- that you won’t- wont do anything like that- that again?” Your boyfriend was still sobbing, clinging on to you like his life depended on it, and you didn’t even think as your hand brushed through his curls.

“Yeah baby, I promise.”

#yandere izuku x reader #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere shoto x reader #yandere bnha x reader #yandere izuku #yandere x reader #yandere bnha #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha yandere #polyamory #izuku x reader #bakugo x reader #shoto x reader #yandere imagines

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twinkleomorashi · 4 years

Text

Hey so I thought I’d post one of my old fics to test the waters!! Camp omo anyone?

The second Kylie finishes explaining the rules of counselor hint to the campers I run as fast as I can to the trails to hide. I’ve been planning this spot since I was a kid and finally being able to do it was sending all sorts of adrenaline racing through my body, far past the normal levels one should have during hide and seek.

I scamper just a small ways past the trail entrance and climb the tallest oak tree I can find. The branch is broad and relatively comfortable, but hidden just out of sight of the path to the point where I was still in bounds, but barely noticeable even if you were looking pretty hard. I tuck the popsicle sticks that we’re gonna use for points in my bra strap as I cling to the trunk for extra support, smirking to myself. I check my watch and notice that the game is set to start in three, two, one.

Twenty minutes out of the hour go by and no one has found me yet. I’m pretty proud of myself. Definitely should’ve gone pee first though, but I guess it’s better than dehydration. I adjust myself on the branch a bit. I check my watch, still 39 minutes to go.

I honestly thought at least one group would’ve found my by now. I’m not even in stealth mode anymore. I keep having to move and adjust myself just to keep my steadily growing need to pee at bay. Ugh, I’m such an idiot. I wrap my legs around the branch and press into it as a substitute for using my hands to do so, since they’re what’s keeping me from falling out of the tree. It helps enough and I can’t help but laugh to myself because this whole situation is kind of funny. I’m gonna have to tell June first thing tomorrow. I know she won’t think it’s that funny and I’ll be laughing too hard to even tell it right, but that’s just the sort of thing that we do anyway.

As time slowly passes, it becomes less funny and more nerve wracking. My shirt is soaked in sweat as I keep shifting against the tree. I wipe the sweat from my hands onto my t-shirt before they shakily grab the trunk again. My brain is sending out about a million warning signals. I check my watch again.

“August!” a voice calls. I turn around and see a group, Lisa is leading them. I grit my teeth as I motion for her to come get the popsicle stick since I’m way too high up for any of her campers to reach.

“You okay?”, she asks, “You’re super pale.”

I laugh through my pain and hand her the popsicle stick.

“Yeah, fine. Just chose the worst possible time to have to pee.” I joke.

She laughs as I reassume position and let a small groan escape my lips. I contemplate just calling it quits and coming out of hiding, but now that a group found me it’d be unfair to the others. Besides, I can wait another ten minutes. Ugh, god, I’m shaking. I cling to the tree even tighter, more scared of falling than anything else. A wave of sheer desperation passes over me and I double over as I hold onto the tree as tight as I can.

“This is bad…” I mutter.

I shift more rapidly and check my watch again. The bark of the tree catches on my shin and scapes it as a squirm. I grit my teeth in pain and glance down to see a small trickle of blood running down my shin. I attempt to wipe it away using my other one, but the branch is too thick and I’m just scraping it up more. The stinging isn’t helping with my other predicament at all. I don’t know which pain to focus on more and my body is saying “leg” causing my brain to think it can stop worrying about the other thing. I try to override it by pressing against the tree again, but just the movement from getting into that position is enough to make me accidentally… a little.

“Fuck!” I hiss, immediately clasping my hand over my mouth as I realize what I just said and checked to see if any campers who could’ve heard me were around.

I tentatively glance down at my khaki shorts which now have a small, but existent wet spot on them. I check my watch. Five minutes. Come on, August, just five minutes. Five minutes and then you can run into the nature center and use the bathroom and it’s gonna be fine.

The mere thought causes another leak to prematurely escape.

“No..!” I whimper.

Okay, okay, don’t panic, it’s fine. I can hold it. Of course I can, I haven’t had an accident since I was in second grade! Besides, the more miserable I am now the funnier the story becomes anyway right? Tears start to line my eyes as I squeeze my legs around the branch even tighter. I have to go so bad that my vision is blurring.

“Come on! Come on!” I whisper as I squeeze my eyes shut to stop myself from crying. I feel a spurt run down my leg, it stings my cut causing my to wince and pain and causing another leak to escape.

“Please no!” I plead though the massive lump in my throat.

In a panic I check my watch for the millionth time. Two minutes. My begin to hyperventilate as I try to myself that I’m gonna be fine while knowing that that was getting less and less likely by the second.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! It’s okay! I can- I can-” I stutter as my bladder suddenly lurches.

“Agh-! I- I-”

I break down. Hard. I collapse against the tree trunk and shakily groan as my legs spastically quiver and my body gives in. I can hear it pattering onto the dead leaves below as my legs and shorts become soaked with piss. My breathing is all over the place, quick and shallow as I try not to cry like a wimp but also taking in deep breaths of sheer relief as even my socks get soaked through. As I finally finish up and reluctantly peek down at my shorts. Shit. There’s no hiding what just happened. It’s bad. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do now. I can’t just go back to my group like this.

I decide that I’ll stay in tree as long as I can manage and then sneak back in my cabin and shower once all my campers and my co counselor ere asleep.

I can hear groups walking back to their cabins. The trails are right outside of the we’re the cabins are and I wait until I year all three camps living there go by before I let down my guard and relax. Well, as much as one can relax while hiding in an oak tree in piss-soaked pants. I hear the rumbling of Addie’s golf cart in the distance and think nothing of it until it starts to sound less and less distant. It suddenly stops and I hear footsteps walking down the trail. This isn’t happening. No way can I let her see me like this. I duck back into my hiding spot.

“August m!” she calls, not like she’s looking for me, but like she sees me and is asking me what the hell I’m doing.

“You need to get back to your cabin.” she says, a bit more sternly this time. God, she's terrifying when she's stern. Sweat’s pouring down my back. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

“August?”,she calls, “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” I weakly respond.

“Why are you in a tree?”

“Counselor hunt.”

“You know that ended nearly half an hour ago, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay follow up question, why are you still in a tree?”

“Because I can’t go back to my cabin.”

“And why is that?”

“Why do you care?” I huff in embarrassment.

Addie sighs and leans against the tree.

“August, I’ve been here long enough that I was your counselor. You’re one of my kids whether you like it or not and knowing how much you love this place I know there’s a good reason why you’re hiding in a goddamn tree and not with your group. I mean, no offense to her but your co has no idea what the hell she’s doing.”

I take a deep breath as I blink back my tears and hop off the branch. I can hear Addie not-so-subtly force back a snicker as she sees me.

“I’m sorry!” she corrects herself, still smirking.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. But I can’t go back to my cabin, especially now that my kids are showering.” I blush.

“God, you really are still one of my kids, Pennington.”

“I was sixteen when you had me, stop acting like your some big shot who raised me or something.” I roll my eyes.

“Excuse you, I totally raised you. And stop acting so pissed off, pun intended, I still haven’t forgotten, y’know.”

I blush.

“You’re eighteen and not a camper so I can joke about it with you now. The massive crush you had on me, I mean.”

“I-I-I- What are you talking about?!” I say as I feel my face turning red.

“Hey I could've said have. Don’t play dumb, piss-pants, did you actually think I wouldn’t notice? You're loud as hell, I could hear you talking to Elle about how you wanted me ‘to take you away on my lesbian bike’. Which for the record, I do have a motorcycle and I’ve been calling it my lesbian bike ever since.”

“Jesus Christ.” I mutter in embarrassment.

“Anyway, I can’t take you away on my lesbian bike, but you can settle for my gay golf cart on a joyride to the nurses office for now.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious, I can’t just leave you here like that.

“Th-thanks, but I think I'll just wait it out. I don't wanna ruin your seats or anything.”

My face is practically burning from pure embarrassment.

“Whatever, I'm not the one who has to deal with it.”

“Then who is?”

“You, dumbass, it's your piss isn't it?”

“You haven't changed a bit.” I say as I crack a smile.

“You don’t mess with perfection, kid.”

#omocute #omorashi #omo #omofic #pissfic

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solong-and-thanksforallthefish · 4 years

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ESCAPE OF K-10 PROLOGUE: “The Creature’s Escape”  ┍━━━━━━━━━━━✁━━━━━━━━━━━┑ WARNING: 16+ Recommenced. This chapter contains heavy blood, gore, body horror, physiological horror, abuse, torture, medical themes, death, and other disturbing material. Please do not read if any of the subjects above are upsetting or triggering, thank you. ┕━━━━━━━━━━━✃━━━━━━━━━━━┙  Another day has gone by, maybe two, is it night? Evening? No one but the people in white knows the elusive time under all these blinding, unyielding ceiling lights. Within this facility was nothing but despair, people and creatures of all ages were stuck in this man-made hell, wishing for the day where their body would finally give out from too many chemicals, handled too roughly, or to simply never wake up again. That was a dream many subjects yearned for… the only mercy in this god-forsaken maze was through death. This wasn’t a place for science and a greater cause. It was a filthy cesspool of overfilling sins committed by everyone here; despite what side they were on every single soul was guilty of their actions and some eagerly awaited the consequences.  One creature in particular, laid on her side under the concrete bed, curled up tightly in a poor attempt to keep warmth in the frigid temperature. She could hear the soft buzzing of that accursed vent sending out the freezing air in order to keep her calm…..numb…..immobile. Those bastards did that with every cell despite if the subjects inside were naturally obedient and non-conflicting. For the scientists never knew if and when their subject’s mind will snap. The creature’s limbs were contorted, mutated. A leather raven black skin took over the second half of her limbs; her hands were nothing short of monstrous with elongated claws as sharp as knives. Her legs came out to be more of stilts, with bird-like feet locked downward. Nothing but emptiness in her eyes and not a sound came out. She had given up long ago fighting this. After losing too many loved ones.  With a sudden obnoxious buzz, the door slid open. The creature slowly unraveled her limbs from herself and crawled out from underneath her safe area. There was a dead, empty look in her expression. Finally submitted, finally broken. There at the entrance was one of the lab’s security guards. He’s taken her many times before and knew she wouldn’t do anything. She was too hungry, too mindless, too tired. The fire and hope in her were put out years ago after she had killed the last of her loved ones. It was all her fault. All her fault. If it wasn’t for her he’d be alive. All her fault.  She made him didn’t she? All her fault. She deserves this.  All her fault. All her fault. All her fault…  The sudden electrical buzzer pulled her out of her foggy intrusive thoughts and back into reality. She hadn’t realized she was cuffed again and being dragged by the security guard into an… unknown room. It’s been a long time since the creature could feel a chill go up her spine. It was like a rupture throughout her body; her whole numb body shocked into awakening and primal senses coming to fruition, panic and dread flooding her system as she was pushed inside and held tightly by the guard.  The room itself was different from the many within the facility. The lighting was dim, with walls covered with a black wallpaper with an intricate white pattern to it. The area had a neat, glazed over wooden desk. Papers upon files upon notes and so forth all seen in half-decent piles or scattered amongst the area, completely covering the surface! One corner had a filing cabinet that was full of years worth of research, with no dust or decay whatsoever. Against the wall was an old leather cushioned chair, it seemed well taken care of despite the rest of the scenery wanting to say otherwise. The most unsettling feature of this room however, was the right-sided wall… a simple door with a small metal station, and above was nothing but a humongous window, nothing but a void on the other side of the glass. The ominous scenery made the creature’s stomach wretch with the unsettling fear; though the intrusive questions bashing against her head came to a halt. Behind her the creature heard the door heavily creak open, metal squealing against each other with a disgusting voice cutting through the silence.  “Is everything prepared? Good, I’ll send the data and videos as soon as I’m finished. You can come and observe if you wish….. Ah, I see. I thought so…… I do always enjoy these “tests”. The man was speaking into his earpiece as he entered the room, heading straight to his desk and grabbing a file with no concern for the other two in the office. He had a disturbing expression on his face as he spoke, a crooked smile on his pale features. Biting his chapped lips and an excited look in his grey eyes. He took a deep breath, taking a moment and brushing his hand through his black, gelled hair put into a simple ponytail. After straightening the front of his lab coat, he made his way to the others in the room. That smile soon disappeared and his expression hardened into something more serious and mature. Oddly, the moment the creature saw the man in white she instantly backed up as much as she could into the security guard behind her. Though he quickly pushed her off of him and kept her right in between the two of them.  “Ah. K-10, my most prized subject here. Although….. you have been ruining yourself lately, haven’t you?” Dr. Henry leaned in close, his gloved hands grabbing the creature’s face quite roughly. She let out a growling whine in an attempt to scare him…but instead sounded like a pitiful plea. Her eyes shut tightly as Dr.Henry thumbed into the deep creases of her hollowed cheeks, forcing her mouth open as he tightly gripped against the points of her jaw, looking inside and seeing her teeth yellow, gums receded and scrunched up tongue deprived of any pleasure of taste or texture against it. After some observation, he finally let go of her and watched her wincing away from his touch, giving him a deadly glare and low growl. The lanky man gave off a dark chuckle at his toy’s reaction. Watching such hatred and fight in her eyes, the act of bravery, when fear was spilling out of those trembling eyes…. defying him and the useless hope of winning was just… so cute.  He had to restrain himself, he knew he had to show control, absolute control over such a fine specimen, and one that was made so well. Though he had a bad habit of breaking them, and in a way, if it went exceptionally well, he would make a new toy out of the broken pieces. In a way, it would be so much better than before. So much more fun, such excitement for the scientist.  “Well, no matter. We’ll have to fix that… if you survive this next test.” Dr.Henry waved his hand for the two to follow him. The guard shoved the creature to continue walking, stumbling and growling in response. The scientist stopped both of them at the metal door and held out his hand.  “That is enough for now Jermane. You can go out front and watch. There is to be no interruption, even from you. Make sure no one enters. If it’s for me, tell them I’m in the middle of testing and to leave an email for me to handle later.” Dr. Henry stated strictly, not breaking eye contact with the worried man in front of him. The creature could feel the man grip tighter on her, and Dr. Henry’s eyebrow raised expectantly when the guard hesitated to hand her over.  Though with one cold and warning glare from the scientist, Jermane finally let go of the creature. She fell to her knees, staying curled down and still. She didn’t try to scurry or fight, the pitiful display was quickly put to an end by the scientist.  Dr.Henry instantly grabbed the back of the creature’s neck and gripped around her scars, her cords and her airway. The creature’s eyes widened in fear, her whole body going limp and hands gently laid upon Dr.Henry’s. Her silent plea of mercy as her mouth opened wide, revealing the monstrous canines behind it. Jermane flinched back in shock and fear. The scientist’s expression stayed the same as he picked her up with ease.  Although it was slightly difficult to keep that neutral expression. He could feel the panicked pulse pushing against his grip, each dry swallow, the freezing skin against his, it was such a sweet tease. Able to control this creature’s fragile life. No matter how many times, he always loved the feeling of life. The living being, able to be manipulated, killed, changed, all at his doing.  “You may leave.”  Jermane scurried out of the office and stood at the door behind him with second thoughts on who he should be afraid of. Dr.Henry was finally able to, relax. The creature was yanked and forced to scramble to stand up and clumsily walk inside the room. Dr.Henry flicked on the light and revealed the area to her. She was scared of course, but so far it was nothing too out of the ordinary. A concrete room, grey walls and black tiled floor. A black curtain had split the room in half, leaving only a cold medical table with metal restraints, a cart of horrifying surgical utensils all neatly cleaned and placed on each shelf.  The creature avoided eye contact, though barely resisted when being lifted and snapped into the contraption. She closed her eyes with a defeated sigh… ready for the worst. However, Dr.Henry grabbed her cheeks hard and yanked her head to meet his now passionate, and mentally cracked look.  “Open them K-10. Now. You really thought today would be about you? Everyone knows how easily bored I get.” That sadistic smile, and the unnerving tone in his voice made the creature’s breath uneven. Just what were his intentions? This somehow felt different, more dangerous. After a brief inhale she could sense, another creature here. And not only anyone…. No…. it couldn’t be…  Dr.Henry could see the sinking expressions go through her head, processing, and realizing that they weren’t alone. He removed his touch from her and went to the curtains, unveiling an official surgical area of the room.. Buckets, preserve containers, similar operational tools. In the middle of it all was a disastrous creature, as large as the flat table it was strapped too. The beast had lumps, clubbed limbs, scars, oozing wounds and saliva dripping off it’s blood-stained and rotten teeth. Jagged, long, fanged, with a huge underbite. It breathed slowly, turning its head slowly to look at the creature across the room. With a huff from it’s flattened nose, it let out a screechy whine.  “A…! Ah..!!” The creature struggled to call out the beast’s name, with such scarred tissue on her vocal chords and lack of speaking for months on end it was hopeless. She kept making small noises, attempting to try and say something!  “Yeeesss, the two have been through quite the years together. Although, Subject K-09 here does not possess the same genetic mutations as K-10. Thus within the later years slowly K-09 will grow tumors,experience cancerous diseases, or its body will slowly shut down and malfunction in one way or the other. Meanwhile Subject K-10 possess a genetic makeup entirely different from the rest. Thus keeping it alive is essential. Meanwhile…..”  Dr. Henry slowly swayed over to the table, caressing the bare stomach of K-09. Tracing the marked dashes that laid across multiple areas of the body, earning growling and jerking movements from the beast in response. Was the scientist recording? Was there a camera inside this room?  “It has been agreed the most optimal way to continue research on subject K-09….Would be to dissect it. Preserving its organs, eyes, skin… muscles… bone… Slowly strip away everything… before you become spoiled …” Dr. Henry’s professional tone was slowly cracking, sadistic and horrid intentions slipping through the cracks. He slowly grabbed his gloves, relishing the sound of each rubber end snapping back. The beast flinched, looking to the creature with its small, fearful eyes. It was an expression of absolute despair, a final goodbye, knowing well that life will end in this room.  The creature started screeching in protest, jerking her limbs and slamming her body against the table in a poor attempt to stop him. Dr. Henry tsked as he slowly chose his scalpel. “Now now, this must be done…. Unless, you can plead? It will be difficult with your shriveled and scarred vocal cords. But if you can manage to plead your case as I like I will stop the operation.”  Dr.Henry took a syringe, plunging the serum into the beast. It jerked, struggled, screeched as if it was dying… and slowly the movements stopped. He could still see the beast breathing, calmly. Its eyes darting side to side. “You better hurry K-10.”  He dragged out his aim to the upper chest and slowly inched his scalpel deep into the flesh of the beast. It could barely open its mouth, letting out a soundless scream as Dr.Henry sliced right, down, left, flipping open the piece of flesh like a demented doorway to the beast’s very insides. Blood ran down the side of the table, and screeches were let out by the creature herself. She quickly started muttering, moving her lips, squealing and screeching.  “P…..pleeeeeeaaaas…….pleaaaa” she muttered, attempting to sew the sounds together into words to stop this madness.  “You’re the only one who can stop this…. But it won’t happen if I can’t hear you.” Dr.Henry enjoyed every cut, digging his gloved hands into the body, feeling the pulses, the sputtering blood, organs moving and twitching at his touch, it was a guilty, pleasurable sensation for the man. He took his time slowly cutting the flesh into smaller parts, a disturbing grin on his face, his body shuddering as the blood squelched under his grip.  “Please…. please please please please please please please please please…” the creature kept squealing out, shaking her head, her eyes shutting tightly together as she continued to repeat her pleas. The beast let out a gurgled hack, making the creature’s eyes snap open. She watched the beast’s blood slip through the edges of its agaped mouth as Dr. Henry watched the pitiful look on his toy.  “Please what? Even a monster like yourself should be more specific…. Are you asking for more? Please~ speak up K-10, I can’t work without noise.” He cooed, digging his hands back into the beast and cutting away at its internal organs. any sign of control and sanity had left him the moment he entered the room. He was too excited, this was going so well for him. Dr.Henry teased himself, thinking about how this will end, on one end he was impatient wanting to break the creature already to see such a reaction. On the other, he had to savor this moment. Listen to every reaction and noise… watch every expression and detail of the body…. Feel each pulse, feel the life slowly drain from this beast in his hands. This man was no longer a man, but a monster overtaken by bloodlust, intoxicated by the smell of copper filling his lungs…  The creature screeched and banged her head against the metal table attempting to speak more words, tears flowing over her face, making her vision blur and burn with each blink, forcing herself to look at him, to get his attention. “PLEASE, ST- Stooooop!! PLease STop!! pLeAse sToP!!! Please stop, please please stop, stop it stop it stop it please!!” She screeched out, her voice croaked, cracked, and sounded like she was choking, screaming out and begging for mercy like she had so long ago.  Dr.Henry’s sadistic grin only grew wider as the creature begged, and continued to remove each one of the beast’s insides, gently placing them in their bins. The creature continued to bawl, becoming louder and louder with each cut and each rip off from the body. Her body contorted, her limbs and body desperately changing shifting, attempting to go into a stronger form to stop this maddening event.  “Please stop pLeAse StOp Please sToP pLeAse StOp Please sToP PLEASE STOP PLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASE-!”  A final horrid squelch echoed through the room.  The large organ pulsed for a moment in the scientist’s hand, before slowly laying still. The body on the table was still, save for the blood dripping onto the tile. Its chest no longer heaved, the body’s mouth left agap, the body’s eyes left half open, glazed over, empty. The soul encased in them has left. The beast, was gone.  Dr.Henry let out a disturbing chuckle, “Ohhhh, too late. You could have stopped this…. But you …”  He looked over and stopped what he was saying. Something’s wrong. The creature’s body contorted, blood was pouring from her mouth, her body grew, skin peeled, scales formed, bones were cracking everywhere, limbs bent, snapped, flesh could be heard ripping itself apart and forming again. Soon the creature broke free of the metal restraints, immediately falling through the glass screen as it morphed. The creature was no longer recognizable… a long muzzle with a thousand teeth, eyes large and small, of all sorts scattered across its face. Limbs like a lizard’s… claws and flesh meshed together, a huge jagged body with showing ribs,spine, neck. Scales, flesh, feathers, fur, all mingled together in a horrid decoration across this form. This was no longer a creature, but a monster.  Without any hesitance the creature screeched to life, an ear-bleeding scream suddenly running and smashing through the metal door and seeing red below its claws. The monster could barely fit through the hallways as it raged through.  Alarms were set off, guards rushed to the third floor to stop the containment breach. Panic and chaos filled the facility, blood curdling screams filled the air as the beast ripped into everything that got in its way. Gun shots, blaring buzzers, shattering glass, growls, squelches, spilt blood, eaten bodies, papers flying… everything was happening at once, no one was prepared, and everyone suffered this monster’s wrath. This night was the most beautiful mural, a mural of consequence.  Senses were at a buzz, spiked to the edge and yet numb. The monster’s body shrieked for mercy at the insufferable damage, and yet the monster could feel none of it. Adrenaline, fear, and pure feral instinct for survival was all that ran through its broken mind. It looked passed the flooding bodies, to the white void in front of it. Faraway screams of terror and despair start to fade behind it’s chaotic path.  Finally busting through the final door, a freezing chill bit into the many bullets and tranquilizers dug into it’s crawling flesh and wounds. Stretching out it’s large leather and feather wings, the monster ran, faster and faster, as everyone shoved each other and piling up the stairs and out onto the roof, quickly scurrying to contain the monster, one more flap, one more jump, and…..  ‘  ; ‘* . * ; : ……… “Am…. I alive? Am I dead…? Inbetween?….”  “Everything hurts……”  “….Where am i?”  There was a freezing wind against her pale and thin skin. She slowly regained her senses, feeling a soft, dusty, and tangible flooring…no.. it was ground. The scent around her was moist and earthy. The sound of quiet chirping and gentle rush of water filled her ears. After mustering the mental strength, she opened her eyes. Trees stood as tall as her eyes could see, surrounding, and what seemed to be protecting her… Moss, rocks, grass, flowers, they were all here. And above it all was a light orange sky, speckled with twinkling stars… it was so beautiful. She heaved, taking in a large breath, starting to sob softly, riddled with joyous laughter on her bleeding and cracked lips. Tears rolled down her hollow cheeks and onto the dirt below where her knotted black hair laid sprawled out. Her rib encased chest rose with each stuttering breath, and her toes curled and uncurled as her legs attempted to curl up. Her watery light brown eyes happily looked up to the gorgeous scenery around her, it was almost too good to be true…  She shakily reached up to the brightening sky with her boney hand. This was real. She really made it…  Nalani, was free. Writing Tagliiiist: @aliasastrid , @bogbodybitch , @coralblast , @crybb-purrgundy , @dazed-night-lights , @lightrhetoric , @persephonescomplex , @tenacious-scripturient , @theworst-pirate , @screamingbasement , @xxxdreamerp666xxx  (Lemme know if you want to be added or removed! :)

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kelyon · 4 years

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Nephila 2: Unexpected

The long-awaited (and totally unplanned) next chapter of Nephila, aka The One Where Rumple is a Giant Spider

In this chapter, Belle talks to Ruby and figures out what she needs to do

Read on AO3

In a perfect world, Belle French would have never known that you can buy pregnancy tests at the dollar store.

Wandering through the aisles of the Dahllah Hahbah, Belle imagined what that perfect world would be like. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t be alone for this trip--unless she had a plan to surprise the co-parent of her child, but even then she would probably have brought Ruby along with her. In a perfect world, she and her significant other would have gotten the most precise pregnancy test available. It probably would have been expensive, the sort of thing you need a prescription to get. In a perfect world, this would have been an expected baby, a wanted baby. In a perfect world, Belle would have already been trying to conceive, with the help of a committed partner. She would have been charting her cycle and taking her basal temperature and regularly injecting her uterus with human sperm.

In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have to specify human.

Without really thinking about what she was doing, Belle piled junk into the green plastic shopping cart. Halloween candy was half off, and the tiny packs of beef jerky were only a dollar. She had been especially hungry for meat lately. In the clearance section, orange and black spider decorations stared at her. Their googly eyes were equal parts friendly and ominous.

She backed away from the Halloween stuff, back into the comparative comfort of a Christmas display. She grabbed a box of candy canes and made her way to the check out lane.

The middle-aged cashier in a green polo shirt wore the dead-eyed glaze of someone who isn’t getting paid enough to express emotions on the clock. She didn’t talk to Belle as she scanned her purchases over the blinking red light. If she noticed the pregnancy test amidst all the junk food and paper products, she didn’t mention it.

And that was fine by Belle. She didn’t want people to mention it. She didn’t want it to be real. That was part of why she had gone to the next town over to make this surreptitious purchase. She didn’t want to run the risk of anyone recognizing her. Even if no one saw the test, even if they were supportive and encouraging, Belle didn’t want to think about what was happening at all. If not thinking about something could keep it from being real, then Belle would have no troubles in the world.

There was a used book store in this town, with a wider variety of subjects than the university store’s collection of last semester’s textbooks. Belle parked her car on the street and walked in. Maybe the smell of books would help her calm down.

It was the best kind of used book store, with towering shelves and hidden nooks and endless rooms leading into each other. There was even a cat wandering around, pestering patrons to pet her. Belle breathed deeply, content even in the sections that had no appeal to her. She brushed past cookbooks and theology, lingered briefly over a shelf of “Personal Relationship/Self-Help,” and eventually found herself in the most daunting section of all.

There were several copies of The Book. The book she didn’t want to admit she was looking for. After all The Book was the sort of thing the average woman only needed for nine months out of her life. Belle would probably donate her copy once all this was over with. However it would be over. However it could be over. There was so much that she didn’t know. It would be good, at least, to have a baseline of information, to know what was normal for a human woman carrying a human child.

She held The Book in one arm, making a conscious effort not to cradle it. As at the Dahllah Hahbah, she tried to camouflage The Book by surrounding it with decoys. She picked up a romance paperback, a history of lobster fishing, and a handbook for learning American Sign Language. After a moment of hesitation, Belle also pulled out a hardcover copy of Arachnology Through the Ages. When the stack of books was heavier than she could hold, Belle decided she was safe to check out.

Unlike the Dahllah Hahbah, this bookstore was staffed solely by the woman who owned the place--a retiree with her long hair in a loose bun and reading glasses on a chain around her neck. Midmorning on a Wednesday, she was obviously thrilled to chat up each and every customer who walked through the door.

“Looks like you got a good haul!” the woman said brightly.

Belle made herself smile and put the books on the counter. “It’s mostly gifts for people.”

“Early Christmas, that’s a smart move!” The owner began to ring up the books. “Oh, Texas Destiny is such a good read! Wait til you get to the part with the wild horses. Do you like horses?”

Her smile was still fixed in place. “A… little.” Belle didn’t give a shit about horses, but this was not the time to talk about it. Maybe if the shopkeeper was distracted by Texas Destiny, she wouldn’t notice--

“Oh!” The woman’s voice rose to a pitch that could only mean the worst thing in the world for Belle: She had seen The Book.

Belle could only be grateful that there was no one else in the store when the woman held up the copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting.

The shopkeeper looked Belle up and down, her smile even wider than before. “So can I say congratulations?”

Belle bit her lip and looked down. “Maybe? I--I don’t really know yet.”

“Oh sweetie!” the woman said. “If you’re buying this book, then you know. And even if it’s not this time, it’ll be soon, I can tell. You look very fertile.”

Mortified, cheeks blazing red, Belle couldn’t say anything.

The woman just kept talking. “This is the gold standard for moms-to-be. And they say it’s easy to read, doesn’t make anything too science-y.”

At that, Belle found her voice. “I’m actually working on my PhD at the University of Maine. I’ve already completed my masters in Zoology. Science-y stuff doesn’t bother me.”

The shopkeeper took that in stride. “And your... husband? Boyfriend? Partner? What do they do?”

Lives in a cave and spins gold webs, Belle thought but couldn’t say. Instead she pulled out her wallet. “It’s kind of complicated. Where do I swipe my card?”

“Oh, we’re cash only, sweetie.”

“Sure,” Belle barely kept the annoyance out of her voice as she put away her debit card and pulled out the twenty she saved for emergencies. “Of course you are.”

****

When she got back to her crappy apartment, Belle thoroughly read and re-read the instructions on the pregnancy test. She wanted to believe that this was a complicated, mysterious process. Maybe she had been wrong the whole time. Maybe she had misread the signs and miscalculated the dates since her last period. Maybe she would go to the bathroom and find her underwear stained with blood, wouldn’t that be great? Wouldn’t that be so much better than the alternative?

Overthinking was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, the longer Belle dithered and avoided the inevitable, the more worked-up she found herself getting. She would have less anxiety as soon as she had some idea of what was happening.

On the other hand, every second she didn’t know if she was pregnant was another second when she could pretend she definitely wasn’t pregnant. It could be true. She could be just imagining things. But she wouldn’t know until she peed on the goddamned stick.

Before she began, she set the kettle on for a cup of tea. By the time the water boiled, it was done. Belle held her mug of Earl Grey close to her chest and looked down at the little blue plus sign.

It had happened.

She was pregnant.

From a motherfucking spider!

****

“I’m coming over and I’m bringing margarita mix!”

Ruby’s voice was loud, even considering the amplification of being on speakerphone. She had to shout to be heard over the noise of the road and the static of her phone and the pounding of Belle’s blood in her ears.

Belle had managed to keep her composure for five entire minutes before the reality of her situation had come crashing down over her head and left her a sobbing mess. In her distress, she’d called her best friend, and Ruby had answered with her usual love language: girl time and booze.

“But I can’t drink!” Belle wailed. “I’m fucking pregnant and tequila will fucking kill my baby!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll drink your tequila, and you can just have the lime juice. Vitamin C is good for zygotes, right?”

“I don’t know.” Trying to pull herself together, Belle wiped her eyes with the heel of her hands. There were all kinds of vitamins she needed to be taking now--or at least, there would be if she was having a human baby. What would a spider baby need? What kind of thing had taken up residence in her body? “I don’t know anything!”

“Okay, okay,” Ruby tried to soothe her. “Don’t panic. Everything will be worse if you panic. I am so close to your apartment, Belle. Just hang on until I get there. How about you look at the table of contents for your new book?”

Normally, there was nothing that calmed Belle down more than reading the table of contents to a book. There was something so comforting about knowing the progression of a text, to have all the steps and developments laid out in a simple outline, to get little teases as to the meat of the book. It was like reading the menu before sitting down to a feast, anticipating all the good things to come.

But if Belle looked at the table of contents to What to Expect When You’re Expecting, she would be peeking into the progression of the next nine months of her life, and that was not a timetable she could think about right now.

“I’ll be okay,” she told Ruby through wobbling lips. “Are you bringing food, too?”

“What, you think I’m an amature? I’m gonna hang up now so you don’t hear me freak out about parallel parking, but I’ll be up soon, hun. Okay?”

“Okay.” Belle nodded, even though Ruby couldn’t see it. She hung up the phone and took a deep breath.

Ruby’s breezy confidence was exactly what Belle needed right now. It made her feel normal, even in the middle of the most un-normal thing she’d ever heard of. Ruby had been an RA while they were undergrads, a faithful post-breakup bar companion, and the recipient of teary late-night calls from friends going back to her high school days. She knew everything about how to deal with someone who was scared and alone and crying her eyes out. Belle wasn’t the first person to call Ruby up in tears, and she wouldn’t be the last.

It helped to think that her problems were not unique. Every day, women all around the world discovered that they had an unplanned pregnancy. For every one of them, it was the end of one world and the beginning of another. And Belle was just the same. The unorthodox manner of conception didn’t change the fact that Belle was merely one of thousands or millions of women who had been put in this exact same situation since the dawn of time. And, like so many of her countless sisters, Belle found solace in reaching out to other women, to find help and comfort and solidarity.

Laden with grocery bags, Ruby burst through the unlocked door like an inverse Santa Claus. Instead of a fat old man bearing gifts for the nice, Ruby was a skinny young woman offering solace to someone who had been decidedly naughty. Belle was more happy to see her friend than she had been on any Christmas morning of her life.

“Hey,” she tried, with a watery smile.

“Baby!” Ruby dropped the bags on the ground and pulled Belle in for a hug. “Or--no. That was a bad choice of words, wasn’t it? How do you feel? Am I allowed to say the B-word?”

Belle laughed and cried at the same time. “It’s fine,” she shook her head. “Don’t worry about saying the word ‘baby.’ That’s what it is, kinda.”

Ruby let Belle go and started unpacking her bags. “I know,” she said. “But ‘baby’ is an emotionally charged word. We can say ‘embryo,’ if that makes things easier on you. We’re almost doctors, Belle. We can be scientific about this.”

Scientifically, the word we should use is ‘larva,’ Belle thought but didn’t say. Ruby was her best friend and the most supportive person in the world right now. But even she would balk if she knew what Belle had really been up to on her trip to Australia.

Together, they cleared the clutter and books off the coffee table. Then Ruby made Belle sit on the couch and watch while she spread out her feast.

“Okay, so the tequila is just for me, but I did bring Sprite--it’s caffeine free and it’ll work with the margarita mix. Additionally, chips and gauc, cheese puffs, cheesecake bites, chocolate chip cookies--”

“Did you sort your shopping list alphabetically?”

“And--” Ruby went on, “a whole goddamned rotisserie chicken. I figured we could just rip into it with our hands like old-timey kings, like we’re going to throw the bones on the floor for the dogs.”

Belle let out an incredulous giggle. “That’s ridiculous! And perfect. Thank you so much, Ruby.”

“Oh! I also got this fancy salt for our margaritas. It’s made with black ants! Can you believe that?”

“Ants?” Belle whispered as her hand drifted over her stomach. Suddenly nauseous, she leapt off the couch and ran to the bathroom.

When she finished throwing up, Belle stayed on the ground next to the toilet. Ruby had lingered in the doorway but didn’t come in until Belle was done. She offered her a glass of water and Belle took it gratefully. Ruby sat on the edge of the bathtub, her face full of concern.

“Has the morning sickness been bad?”

“I don’t know if this is bad, I’ve never had it before!” Belle took a sip of water and closed her eyes. “Isn’t it supposed to be bad? Isn’t pregnancy supposed to be divine punishment for promiscuity?”

“If it’s punishment for anything, it’s for poor planning. I thought you were on the pill?”

Belle shook her head. “I kept it up for a few months after Will and Ana got back together for the fifth time, but when it looked like they were sticking I didn’t bother to refill my prescription. I don’t have sex with men often enough to justify taking a pill every day.”

“Except for when you do.”

“Yeah,” Belle took another drink. “Except for when I do.”

Ruby took a breath and rubbed her hands over her knees. “Listen, you know I’m here for you no matter what, right?”

Belle was still shaky, but she rested in that certainty. “Right.”

“And I’m not going to pressure you or make you do anything. You don’t even have to make any decisions today, okay?”

“Okay.”

“But I gotta ask: Belle, what do you want to do? Have you thought about your options? Do you want to keep it? Do you want to… not keep it?”

Leaning her head back against the cool tile of her bathroom wall, Belle opened her eyes slowly. It had been such an ordeal to even confirm that she was pregnant, the thought of what came next had been too much to consider until now.

She took a deep breath, eight counts in, eight counts out.

“I think ‘abortion’ is an even more emotionally charged word than ‘baby.’”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ruby said. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I can drive you to Planned Parenthood, I’ll be with you every step of the way. If that’s what you want.”

“I know,” Belle said softly. Ruby’s support was unconditional. She would paint a nursery or hold Belle through a difficult procedure, both with equal willingness and sincerity.

But Belle had an instinctive terror at the thought of going to a doctor’s office in her condition. What would a real urine test reveal about the nature of her child? What kind of image would show up on an ultrasound? Even if she wanted to get rid of this thing, would a regular abortion procedure work? Or would they have to go into her uterus with insecticide?

“I don’t want to go to a doctor,” she said softly.

Ruby’s eyes widened. “But you have to go to an OB! Or even just talk to Victor. I mean, if you’re going to stay pregnant, you have to stay healthy and safe.”

“I know,” Belle closed her eyes again. What could she say? How could she explain any of this? “But… I… I don’t know what will happen.”

“What, like with insurance or something?”

Belle’s eyes shot open. That worked. “Yeah,” she lied. “I don’t want to deal with crazy medical bills.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully. “Does Australia have universal health care?”

Now it was Belle’s turn to nod, slowly, saying words only slightly after the thoughts came into her head. “We… do. I should go back home… because of the healthcare.”

“Yeah, no, you definitely should. Besides, your parents are there!”

At the mention of her parents, Belle’s tenuous hope crumpled. “Oh God!” she let out a wrenching cry. “My parents are gonna kill me!”

“Nooo,” Ruby crooned. She slid off the bathtub edge and joined Belle on the floor, pulling her into her arms and slowly rocking her back and forth. “I know it’s scary, but parents can be okay with things. My mom didn’t want to tell Granny about me until I was almost born, but it all turned out fine!” She gave Belle a chaste kiss on the temple. “Even if your mom and dad freak out at first, they’ll come around soon. Babies are cute. They’re easy to like.”

Belle shook her head and let the tears fall silently. “Not this baby.”

“Don’t say that.” Ruby held Belle by the shoulders, twisting their bodies so they could look into each other’s eyes. “If you’re gonna keep this baby, Belle, you’ve got to own it. It will be a lovable baby because it will be your baby. You’ve got to fight for it! If you’re this thing’s mom, you have to be its biggest fan. Does that make sense?”

Still teary, Belle nodded. “It’s my baby, right or wrong.”

“Unless you want to go to Planned Parenthood. That is entirely up to you. But once you make that choice--” Ruby balled her hand into a fist and shook it in a display of fierce determination “--then it’s yours.”

“Mine,” Belle whispered. Her hand drifted down to her stomach. It was still flat and lifeless. There was nothing about her body that spoke of the life that grew inside her. Nothing that could tell her what manner of creature her child would become. But Ruby was right, it was hers. And not just hers. “I should tell the father too.”

“Yeah, you never mentioned what happened! Who was this guy? What was he like? How was the sex?”

“The sex was amazing,” Belle admitted with the candor of the overly distraught. “But it was just sort of a one-night stand. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”

“Do you want to see him again? Do you think he’ll want to be involved?”

“He’ll have to be involved,” Belle said with a dawning sense of relief.

Of course the creature in the cave would be a part of their offspring’s life. If she was going to give birth to a spider, then it would have to be raised by a spider! And that thing… that thing was intelligent. It could care for its young. Maybe it could even take care of Belle.

She just had to see him again.

Belle felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. As she stood up, she nearly floated off the bathroom floor. She offered her hand down to Ruby and helped her get up.

“Tomorrow morning, I have to call Dean Mills to see if someone can teach my classes for the rest of the semester.”

Ruby cocked her head at Belle. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m going back to Queensland.”

#Nephila #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #sorry there's no smut in this one #not a lot of spiders either #next time baby

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taronfanfic · 4 years

Text

Fast Forward

Chapter 20

It was a short ride on the back of a golf cart from the main country house down to where you’d be staying. The dense woodland created a beautiful, almost secret path; the branches overhead meeting in the middle to create an archway. When you pulled up outside you looked across to Taron in complete disbelief that this was where you’d be spending the night. A gently sloping wooden bridge led up to a grand oak doorway which was positioned in the centre of the wall of your very own treehouse.

“It’s an actual treehouse! What the hell?!” You spun back to face Taron, your face a picture of pure childlike joy as he followed you up the bridge with your bags.

“It’s amazing! Go on, go in first.”

A large semi-circle shaped sofa filled the centre of the main room with a glass table in front of it which had been filled with champagne on ice, a huge bouquet of flowers and a cake stand containing all of your favourite sweet treats. It all looked out onto your decked balcony, with a small bistro table and chairs, and beyond that a stunning view through the forest floor; completely secluded, peaceful as anything and with only the sound of the birds in the trees for company. To the right of the sofa was a log burning stove and a door which led through to a small kitchen where a selection of gins were waiting to be tasted, and everything you could possibly need for a cosy hot chocolate before bed. After you’d looked around everything else you followed Taron through into the bedroom where the kingsize bed also had a full view out into the forest. Two large cosy towels had been placed on the end of the bed with a small chalkboard sign that pointed out to the balcony saying: Hot Tub This Way.

“Ahhh you weren’t winding me up!” You grinned as you rushed up to the glass door and peered to the right where the steam was rising up from the inviting looking water. “We’ve actually got our own hot tub, with that view!”

“Now you can see why I’ve been dying to tell you everything, and also wanting to keep it all a surprise!”

“You know what? I’m actually really glad you kept it as a surprise. With everything that’s happened I needed this moment, and I’ve needed you more than I’ve realised. It’s making me see how lucky I am to have you, it’s making me feel so happy, and making me love you so much I just want to squeeze you and never let you go.” You stepped back into Taron’s open arms and did just that, burying you face into his chest and wrapping your arms around his back in the tightest grip.

“If you’re happy, I’m happy.” He replied simply as he held you back. “You’ve not had it easy recently and I wanted to treat you and make you feel special.”

“This is as much about you as it is me.” You pulled back slightly so you could look into Taron’s eyes for a moment before moving in to kiss him tenderly. “It’s our anniversary, and we’ll celebrate it together.”

“Deal.” He kissed you back even more slowly, almost identically to your first ever kiss, and all the heady lust you’d felt that first night came rushing back to your chest. The look on his face as he pulled back let you know that that was entirely deliberate. “Your reaction to those kisses… I’m pretty sure it’s what made me fall for you.” He left you speechless, a final peck falling to your softly open lips before he left the bedroom, no doubt heading straight for the cakes. With a soft shake of your head you snapped yourself back to reality, lingering in the bedroom doorway and watching on as Taron picked up a slice of Victoria sponge cake from the stand and savoured his first bite with a heavenly moan.

“I’m going to give my dad a quick call and check in, I won’t be too long. Maybe crack open the champagne and we can test out the hot tub after? Save me that chocolate brownie too!”

“It’s all yours!” Taron called back as he relaxed against the cushions of the sofa and took in the view.

You climbed up into the centre of the bed and sat against the headboard, hearing your phone ring for a few seconds before your Mum answered.

“Hello, love.” She greeted you quite cheerily.

“How is it going?”

“Not too bad actually, your Dad is having a little nap just now but all the nurses have said he’s taken it well, better than most people, so that’s positive.”

“Brilliant, and have you heard any more from the oncologist?

“Yes, she came in just after lunch and has looked over all the new scans and blood test results and was also happy. Apparently the traces of cancer which are left are very small and haven’t spread so it should be one course of chemo over 6 weeks to kill that off and then fingers crossed it’s all clear from there.”

“That’s such a relief.” You sighed, feeling like the dark cloud that had been following you around was shrinking by the second.

“Yes, we’re both relaxing a bit more now.”

“Good, we’ll come back up at the weekend to see you if that’s alright?”

“We?” Your Mum checked in cautiously.

“I had to tell Taron, Mum. He’s family to me, even if he’s not yet family to you.” She hummed back down the phone to you, clearly not sold on the idea of having him stay the night under her roof again.

“I know things didn’t go brilliantly last time, but please give him a chance?” You practically begged.

“Well I think your father already sees Taron as his son-in-law… so I’d better get used to him, hadn’t I?” She let out a soft laugh.

“You make it sound like so much effort!” You laughed back. “I know you’ll love him, in time. He’s spoiling me rotten today. We’re staying in a cute treehouse near the south coast in the New Forest and our balcony looks out into the woodland. It’s gorgeous!”

“That does sound lovely. Take plenty of photos and tell me all about it at the weekend, I’m going to have to go now though as the nurses have just come back in to wake him.”

“We will. Love you, Mum. Pass my love to Dad too.”

“I will, darling. We love you too, and say hi to Taron from us.”

As your Mum hung up the phone you were left with a look of surprise on your face at her last comment. It was the first sign of interest and inclusion of Taron from her and you’d not expected it to happen so soon after your request to give him a chance. You rushed to your feet and back out into the living area to see Taron looking back at you from the sofa.

“You okay?”

“Yeah… my Mum says Hi.” You smiled. “Specifically to you.”

“She does?” Taron jumped up from the sofa in delighted confusion. “Is she feeling alright?” He joked.

“Better than she has done in weeks. Everything is going really well up there so I don’t need to worry… we don’t need to worry! I said we’ll see them at the weekend and can tell them all about this place and how special it is. Mum wants lots of photos.”

“Are you serious? This is amazing, y/n! I told you everything would be alright, that we’d come here and leave the past behind and fall in love all over again.”

“I never fell out of love with you.” You clarified as you took hold of Taron’s hand.

“Me neither, but you know what I mean.”

“This is mad.”

“Everything feels so right.” He beamed back to you. “Have a sip of champagne, devour that chocolate brownie and I’ll work out how to get the bubbles going in the hot tub!”

“Urgggh heaven.” You moaned happily as you tasted the sweet chocolate and heard Taron’s excited laugh as he put the jets into action and then rushed back inside to grab the towels from the bed. He stripped back down to his swimming shorts in front of you, willing you to eat your brownie quicker than you were.

“Come on! Oh wait, the champagne!” He stepped quickly around you to grab the ice bucket and glasses before dragging the small bistro table over next to the hot tub and setting it up. There was a chill to the November late afternoon air and you could see the goose bumps erupting across Taron’s arms as he leant back through the doorway to see if you were ready yet.

“Get in, I’ll be 2 minutes.” You waved him back out again, giving you time to tie your hair up and grab your phone so you could take some photos of the view, and a cheesy selfie or two as well. The smile that graced Taron’s face when you stepped out onto the balcony to join him said it all. He let you climb in beside him and then handed you a glass of champagne, cheersing his glass against yours and taking a long sip. Neither of you had felt this happy in months and the time spent together, one-on-one, was long overdue. It was all too easy to glide around the edge of the hot tub and in against Taron’s side, locking your lips to his so you could kiss him like you really meant it.

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#taron egerton #taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton fanfic #taron x reader

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twilighteve-writes · 4 years

Text

Feather One Divided -- Chapter 4: The Separation

Fic Summary:

Feather one divided, fate’s ties frayed, Fractured and wedged, scattered and gone.

After sharing an unsettling dream of Felldrake, the Three Caballeros decided to join back together with Xandra to form a stronghold in case the sorcerer returned. But Felldrake’s plans proved to be bigger than they expected, and when he struck so close to home, it was all Donald could do to keep his family – and himself – together.

(Also available in AO3)

(Chapter 1)

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Twined by fate, never apart.

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The hubbub around the manor was different from usual. The common hubbub was chaotic and uncontrolled; children laughing and adults yelling and the occasional explosions. This one was focused chatters and the adults running about, driving metal stakes carved with arcane symbols into the ground, multicolored sparks lighting up the forest.

Panchito drove the last stake into the earth and ran back to the manor. “It’s done,” he announced.

“Alright, then get here and we can get the show going,” Xandra said. As the Three Caballeros stood around a humongous stake by the big golden dollar sign in front of the manor – carved with a collection of even more complex arcane symbols – she stepped back. “Okay, you can start charging the stakes now.”

Huey stared with keen eyes, committing how the three of them flared their magic – Uncle Donald’s underwater thermal vents was bubbling like crazy, heated up above boiling point. Panchito’s heat reminded him of something buzzing underneath his skin, warming up his throat and making him dizzy, exhilarated limbs sore and warm after dancing, while José’s had the same buzzing and dizzying quality though it also reminded him of waning warmth of setting sun. Above the heat, their magic blazed, loud in a way only magic could be; Uncle Donald’s ocean roared and he could almost feel rivers and lakes and rain roaring along with it, and Panchito’s party music and José’s smooth jazz mixed and twined around Uncle Donald’s sea, and the three reached an equilibrium that sang a surprising harmony.

The magic dove into the humongous stake and blitzed; red, blue, and green mixing into brilliant white that simmered inside the stake and shot out to the four cardinal points, where the smaller stakes had been driven into the earth.

Something crackled, an electrifying sensation that reminded Huey of Dewey’s magic – but different. Instead of the thunderous lightning, this was pure, unadulterated magic sparking and humming. Huey looked up and saw the four stakes had sent up a line of white, each crackling with red, blue, and green, and the four light line met at the sky. The light then slammed back to the humongous stake the Caballeros stood around.

The crackling intensified for a moment, then settled. A mirrorlike sheen glinted off the sky, then disappeared.

Xandra let out a breath. “And the ward is complete,” she murmured.

“It’s weak on the eastern side,” José said with a frown. “The one around the cabana is much stronger overall.”

“It can’t be helped. It’s the one farthest away from the central stake.” Xandra shrugged. “Considering it’s either this or ruining the manor to get the stake inside, we’ll just have to pay more attention to the eastern ward.” She looked eastward. “Besides, the ward is different.”

“Different how?” Huey blurted before he could stop himself.

The Caballeros and Xandra turned to him, as if only realizing he was there. Behind him, Webby bounced on her heels, not bothering to cover her curiosity. “Yes, different how?” she asked.

“Well,” Xandra started, “the cabana’s ward has been around for decades, for one. And it’s made differently. It’s stronger because it used some of the old Caballeros’ blood to make.”

“Uh, ow?” Huey winced.

“It didn’t use much. Only three drops each,” Xandra assured. “And there was something about that land that made it easier to raise a ward and keep it up. And it gets stronger the longer it’s up. This hill doesn’t have it, but,” she turned to the stake in satisfaction, “having a goddess carve the base of the spell for the ward certainly helps.”

“Is… that it?” Webby prodded.

Xandra shrugged. “More or less! But this one here isn’t as stable as the regular wards. It’s weaker than regular wards, too, but it should strengthen in time. It’s probably all the energy from the magical objects here interfering with the ward’s power and stability.” She frowned. “I swear, it’s a miracle nothing’s exploding yet.”

“We do have some incidents,” Huey admitted. “A golden statue came to life, one time.”

Xandra whirled on Uncle Donald, and he groaned. “I know, I’ll ask Uncle Scrooge if there’s a better way to store the magical objects later.” He straightened up and looked to the direction of the town. “Should we start searching, then? The ward is done, right?”

“We need to bring our weapons though,” José pointed out. “I don’t know if I want to risk not arming ourselves.”

“Wait, but our weapons are in the cabana,” Panchito gasped, suddenly looking panicked.

“That’s alright, I brought your weapons for you,” Xandra said, and produced a cutlass, a broadsword, and a spear pretty much out of nowhere. She handed the cutlass to José, the sword to Uncle Donald, and the spear to Panchito. “I’ve been carting them around, just in case you need them. But I don’t have your armor, so if you want them we’ll have to go to the cabana.”

“We should be fine without it,” Uncle Donald said as he tested the sword’s weight. “The amulet can protect us.”

“Wait, why would you need armor?” Huey asked, alarmed. “Uncle Donald, how dangerous is this going to be?”

Uncle Donald paused and looked at him for a split second, and Huey felt his alarm grow. He knew that look well. It was the look Uncle Donald wore when he knew something bad was going to happen but didn’t want him or his brothers to get worried, and he was thinking about what he wanted to say instead.

“It’s going to be okay, Huey,” Uncle Donald settled, a reassuring smile on his beak. “We’ve done this before.”

Huey stared uncertainly. “I don’t want you out there if you’re going to get hurt, Uncle Donald,” he said.

“Yeah, and also, if it’s that dangerous maybe you should get the armor?” Webby suggested.

Uncle Donald knelt by them and put a hand on their shoulders. “Kids, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve done this before and we all went home in one piece. But I’ll probably need you two to keep Dewey from going insane from having to spend a long time in manor grounds, so help me on that, okay?”

Huey bit his cheek. He knew Uncle Donald was distracting him, trying to shift the attention to Dewey’s restlessness. He’d gone to run about the grounds, running around the fountain at the back, with Mom floating by his side and Louie following them. Louie said he only wanted to make sure they wouldn’t do anything stupid, but Huey doubted that since Louie was already recording a video on Dewey’s hijinks.

Still, Uncle Donald had a point. Huey sighed and nodded. “Come home safe?” he asked instead.

“Be home for dinner,” Webby added, and Huey could feel the steel in her tone. Come home before curfew, or else.

Uncle Donald smiled and nodded. “Of course! I’ll be home safe for dinner,” he said. He pulled them into a brief hug. “I’m going now. If the others asked, tell them I’m out looking for Felldrake, okay?”

“Okay,” Huey agreed. He watched as Uncle Donald turned away and walked briskly with Panchito, José, and Xandra to the gate, a ripple appearing in the air when they passed through the ward. He could hear snippets of their conversation – something about preferring to go on foot to check the area around the manor instead of using an atlas. There was something hard in Uncle Donald’s gaze that Huey was unfamiliar with. It felt out of place.

Webby nudged him. “Hey. You okay?”

Huey huffed. “I don’t like this,” he admitted.

“Me neither,” Webby said. “Come on, let’s go inside. Uncle Donald made a point when he said Dewey would be stressed out.”

Huey shook his head, ignoring Webby’s words. “I’m worried, Webs. From what I felt last time Louie got across that guy, Felldrake is a really big bad news.”

Webby looked at the gate where Uncle Donald and his group had disappeared past and blew out a breath. She didn’t say anything, but Huey could almost feel her agreement all the same. She silently took him by the wrist and pulled him gently into the manor, and this time, he complied.

She brought him to the yard, where they last saw Dewey, Louie, and Mom. The three of them were still there, and after Huey and Webby told them Uncle Donald had gone already, they fell into worried silence. Eventually, Dewey grew restless again and started sparking, his magic reflecting his mental state.

“I’m sure Donald will be fine,” Mom assured, though there was a slight waver in her voice. “I mean, he did say they sealed this Felldrake fellow before. I’m sure they can do it again.”

“It’s kind of hard to imagine Uncle Donald doing it though,” Louie mused.

“Yeah, he’s kind of a dork,” Dewey agreed.

Mom shook her head in amusement. “Hey, watch that. He may be a dork, but he’s our dork. Show some respect.”

“And also, he’s a great adventurer on his own right,” Webby added. “I’ve read a lot about what he’d done!”

Mom grimaced. “Oh, yeah, he’s definitely saved my life many times. I mean, I’ve saved his life too, but sometimes I wonder if he has a danger alarm built in.”

Huey felt himself relax at that. “Oh, then that’s good. He should be able to keep himself out of danger.”

“Er, right.” For some reason, Mom didn’t look entirely convinced, but Huey decided to shelf that for later.

They fell into silence again, more comfortable this time. Eventually, Dewey grew bored and started sparking magic again, experimenting to see how much he could zap the earth without leaving any sort of mark behind. It drew Huey’s attention, as it did Louie’s and Webby’s, and soon the four of them were debating about how much output Dewey could let out.

The debate stopped when Uncle Scrooge approached, Gyro and Fenton on tow. Huey perked up immediately. A few days had passed since they last visited, and he was curious about the development on the GPS bracelet.

“Hello!” Fenton greeted, ever the friendly scientist. “What’s going on over there?”

“We want to see how much I can zap the ground without leaving marks,” Dewey said. “Like, I want to see how weak or how strong it can be.”

Gyro stopped by Fenton’s side, humming. “Measure the electrical output and write down the results. The only thing separating scientific pursuit and goofing around is putting the results on paper.”

Dewey made a suspiciously interested sound. Huey made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

“Where’s Donald?” Uncle Scrooge asked.

“Out to find Felldrake,” Huey answered. “Are Dr. Gearloose and Fenton here to do more demonstration?”

“Ehh, sort of. We can’t really test the bracelets without someone who can do magic. I thought Donald can help with it like last time, but he’s not here.” Uncle Scrooge said with a shrug. “You two can start now. What have you accomplished with the bracelets?”

“We managed to measure the magical current and predict how it interferes with the bracelet’s system, so we think we found a way to circumvent it,” Gyro began. “It should be fully functional and safe to use now.”

“Here, we can test it now.” Fenton took out a bracelet. “Anyone want to be a volunteer here?”

No one was surprised when Dewey’s hand shot up enthusiastically. Mom frowned, though, and asked, “This is safe, right? It won’t blow up or anything?”

Fenton laughed crisply. “Don’t worry! If it failed it would probably fizzle a bit, but it won’t hurt anyone.”

Mom hummed and nodded. At her express permission, Fenton helped Dewey put on the bracelet. Once it was fastened, Fenton breathed and shifted on his heels. “Okay, now for the hard part. Dewey, can you try using magic?”

Dewey tilted his head, staring at the bracelet, and blue-white sparks wreathed his fingers. His heat spiked, just as it always did whenever he used magic. This time, the bracelet didn’t fizzle.

Fenton cheered. “Yes! It works!” He handed Huey, Louie, and Webby their own bracelets, and he kneeled down to the ground. “Do you have the bracelets fastened? Okay, try using magic – great! We’re all good on that front, so let me show you how to use the bracelets…”

Huey listened to Fenton’s instructions, keeping track of what was happening around him on the meantime. He could see Mom leaning to Gyro on his side, gesturing to her wrist, and Gyro shaking his head and holding up four fingers, and Mom huffing.

Fenton had just started to show them how to track each other using the GPS system, assuring Dewey that more upgrades would be done when he complained it wasn’t color-coded, when a sudden tension in the air grabbed Huey by the neck. He wasn’t the only one feeling it; he could feel Dewey and Louie’s alarm in their heat. Even Webby and Fenton, magicless as they were, looked around with deeply uncomfortable look in their eyes.

Something reverberated and shattered, and Huey felt it more than he heard it. He looked up. The mirrorlike sheen around the manor that had appeared when the ward was first erected appeared again, and it crumbled like a million pieces of broken glass, disappearing into glittering lights as it fell.

“What is that?” Fenton asked, voice soft and breathy.

“The ward,” Webby breathed. “Uncle Donald, Panchito, José, and Xandra built a ward just before you arrived. It just broke.”

Louie turned to the east. “It feels like something broke over there,” he noted.

“José said something about the eastern side being weak,” Huey said. He frowned when he felt wind creeping from the east, chilling. It made something inside him crawl.

Uncle Scrooge broke the tense silence. “Alright, let’s get inside. It should be safer in the manor.”

“But what if something is wrong?” Dewey protested.

“Then I’ll want you to stay inside,” Uncle Scrooge stressed. “I don’t want you running around with Donald out and about having a target on his back. Anyone could think of using you as bait.”

Dewey clenched his fists, electricity sparking off his hands. It died when Louie grasped his shoulder and steered him gently to the manor.

And then Uncle Donald’s magic screamed above the din, water rushing and jumping in a hurricane, and even without the telepathic bond Uncle Donald shared with Mom Huey could feel the undercutting panic in the current of the Uncle Donald’s magic. Mom barely took a second to process it, simply pivoting on her heels and calling her magic, white plumes blooming around her.

“S.O.S,” was all she said before she shot like a loosed arrow to the eastern side of the mansion, where Uncle Donald’s magic was still blaring.

“Mom, wait!” Dewey yelled, twisting off Louie’s hold. He ran after Mom, and Louie yelled in exasperation, running after him. Webby shot after them without saying a word, and Huey groaned, already taking off.

Something flew overheard, too fast to be recognized.

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Trying to find Felldrake was both easy and difficult at the same time.

In the few times Donald came down to the city to get groceries and other daily necessities these few days, Donald had been probing around to find a way to track Sheldgoose and Felldrake in Duckburg. To his immediate unease, Felldrake’s magical residue was all over the town, and it was downright impossible to narrow down where he might be. Furthermore, he could feel it in the woods surrounding Killmotor Hill.

“He knows we’re here,” Panchito noted quietly.

José looked around. “It seems he’s been monitoring the manor.”

Donald hissed. “That’s not creepy at all.”

“Can you pinpoint where he is?” Xandra asked.

The three of them exchanged glances and shook their heads. “The magical residue is all over the place,” José said. “And the magic feels odd.”

“Odd?” Xandra echoed.

Panchito and José both turned to Donald, clearly wanting him to explain. He sighed and rubbed his neck. “Something about him being sealed inside Sheldgoose, probably. It keeps changing. It still feels like space, kind of, but it… uh…”

“Fluctuates,” José filled in. “It morphs constantly.”

“Maybe it depends on who’s dominant,” Panchito theorized. “Like who’s in control at the moment.”

“Maybe,” Xandra murmured, frowning and looking around. “There’s something around here, though.”

“Okay, let’s not be unnecessarily creepy here,” Donald cut in flatly. “Something can be anything. A squirrel, a frog, a bigfoot, Louie screaming because he’s not equipped for outdoor living…”

“It feels like a dormant spell.”

That shut Donald up. He scanned the woods, alert all of a sudden, searching for anything out of place. He’d been walking through the woods of Killmotor Hill basically his whole life, he knew the place inside and out even though he didn’t really like the outdoors the way Della did.

Purple light shot through the leaves, going for José. A sheen appeared around him, the amulet activating its protective magic to protect José from malicious magic, but it broke the moment the purple light hit it. The spell hit José squarely on the shoulder, and he fell with a grunt. The tension broke, and chaos took its place.

“The amulet is supposed to protect us!” Panchito yelled as he dodged a blast.

“Felldrake must have found a way to circumvent the amulet’s protection,” Xandra said through gritted teeth.

Donald gathered his magic, feeling the ocean rise within him and feeling the amulet’s magic feeding into it, strengthening it until he could command any body of water around. Too late, he realized there wasn’t any in Killmotor Hill, and if his opponent hadn’t been spying on him the rising magic would have given his position away. If anything, him calling to his magic had only confirmed that he was there, painting a target upon his back.

True to his suspicions, the next purple blast shot to his head. He shifted aside to dodge it, running away when flurries of purple streaks chased him. A jutting root tripped his steps and he fell face-first into the dirt, already cursing his bad luck and knowing the next spell would hit.

It didn’t hit him. Instead, when he turned over, he felt the woven bracelet Webby made for him spark something warm on his wrist, and a shield appeared to protect him. The spell ricocheted off the shield and shot off to the sky.

Donald stared at the bracelet, finding himself silent. The flurry of spells stopped for a moment, apparently as shocked as Donald was.

And then Panchito whipped his head to a point in the forest, pointing and yelling, “There!” and his eyes blazed ruby red as he let out a loud, piercing whistle that made Donald’s ears ring. He smirked as he stood, knowing that it would be so much worse for whoever was Panchito’s target.

Something wailed in response to the whistle, and they rushed to it, Donald on the lead, to see what it was. Webby’s bracelet formed another shield for Donald when another purple light shot off to them. Donald had expected it to be Sheldgoose, downed from Panchito’s whistle, or maybe Leopold, acting as a way for Felldrake’s spell to go through.

He didn’t expect a straw doll the size of a child, its supposed heart burning a hole in its chest.

“A placeholder,” Xandra said. “Felldrake must have spelled it to attack us, and Panchito broke the spell.”

“But then… where is Felldrake?” José mused, leaning to a tree and clutching his shoulder.

“That aside, is your shoulder okay?” Donald asked. He closed in on their distance and tugged on José’s sleeve. “That was a solid hit you got.”

“Ay, Donal’, aren’t you just the sweetest friend?” José teased with a smile. He shifted his weight so he stood more comfortably. “The shoulder is fine, only a bit stiff. We can check on that later after we find Felldrake.”

“Yeah, finding him is first priority,” Xandra agreed immediately. “I think we should go back to the manor. Felldrake might have put the puppet as a distraction so he could get there undetected.”

“Should we check the eastern side?” Panchito asked. “It’s the weakest point of the ward. Plus, the ward is still weak overall. If he could feel the weakness, he might target it.”

The straw puppet, which had been still the whole time, suddenly jerked up as if someone had shaken it violently. A deep, rumbling chuckle that came from nowhere and everywhere at once thundered through the air, and the puppet burst into deep purple flames that consumed it to ashes in less than three seconds.

Too late, realization struck. “He used the puppet to listen to us. He knows about the eastern side,” Donald breathed.

José pushed himself off the tree he was leaning on and started marching. “Let’s go.”

When they got to the eastern ward boundary, Sheldgoose was already there. He leaned over the stake and was promptly electrified. He hissed, his body glowing purple, and reached down. This time, the electricity passed through him into the soil.

Panchito moved the fastest, holding up his spear and shooting ahead in a streak of red, ready to stop Sheldgoose from pulling the warding stake out of the earth. Leopold landed above him and pinned him down.

“Stupid monkey-bat-donkey-rat,” Panchito grumbled. “Get off me!”

“Don’t bother Daddy,” Leopold said instead, his hand finding Panchito’s neck. José ran ahead and sliced, his cutlass managing to draw blood from Leopold’s arm. He screeched in pain and jerked back.

“He told you to get off,” José said, voice dangerously low. Something emerald green flashed in his eyes, and when he spoke again, his voice echoed oddly. “Stay back, Leopold.”

Leopold froze in place, a panicked look in his eyes. Donald ignored him in favor of going for Sheldgoose, sword gripped tight in his hand and ready to swing. He ran to the goose with a battle cry.

Sheldgoose simply glanced at him, grinned, and pulled the stake free. Immediately, the ward shattered; the glint of the sun its surface reflected intensified before the ward crumbled from the top down, diamond dust raining down and disappearing in midair. “No!” Donald cried as he lurched forward, horror dawning as Sheldgoose threw the stake aside, purple glow diminishing at last.

“Thank you for telling me where to strike,” he said with a smile.

Horror was hard to deal with. Horror – fear – made Donald squawk and searched for a way to keep his family safe, called to the cowardly side of him that he wanted to drown and say goodbye to forever. So, instead, Donald got angry, and he swung the sword carelessly. The rushing push and pull, push and pull at the back of his mind intensified and fused into his being, powering his temper with more than Donald’s usual brand of frustrated yelling.

Sheldgoose smiled. Around him, the wind picked up, his entire being feeling like the grey of cloudy, smoggy night sky reflecting the lights of the city, the stars above screaming to be seen but choked by the smoke. Slowly, the feeling of the stars intensified until all Donald could think of was how it reminded him of a dying star on the brink of winking away.

Sheldgoose let the power built, and then he swung a purple clad hand at Donald’s head. Donald managed to dodge, taking a few steps back to let the distance grow. Around Sheldgoose, the wind kept stirring, swirling around him and blowing outward.

“What do you want?” Donald snapped at him. He lifted the sword to point at Sheldgoose’s beak.

“I want many things,” Sheldgoose said. “Being freed from this body you sealed me in, for one.”

The sword wavered, lowering. “…Felldrake?”

Felldrake smirked. The purple glow that signified his control over the body finally appeared, overtaking Sheldgoose’s eyes until it was nothing but shining purple. It faded away to reveal Sheldgoose’s eyes again after a moment. “You learn a trick or two when you’re trapped like this.”

“And where is Sheldgoose?” Donald asked.

Felldrake tilted his head slowly, keeping it at an angle that was technically possible but was so uncomfortable to see. “Foolish little duck. Why did you think Leopold call me Daddy?”

Cold crept in Donald’s fingers. “Is he not there anymore?” he chased.

“It’s been me,” Felldrake said, letting an unsettling, too-wide grin overtake the stolen body. “It was me who met the little green duckling in that decrepit children’s play area.” He straightened, but the grin stayed. “It’s not like Sheldgoose’s completely gone. I have to admit, he’s good at charming people.”

Donald rushed ahead, sword swinging. “Stay away from my kids!”

Purple field of energy formed in Felldrake’s hands, creating a shield that protected him from Donald’s sword and reminding Donald of how Lena used his amulet to create her own attacks. Except Felldrake didn’t have an amulet. It was all him.

“You stay away from my family,” Donald snarled.

Felldrake didn’t respond to that. Instead, he created a barrier around them, locking them in. Donald whipped his head around to stare at the dome-shaped barrier Felldrake had trapped them in, alarmed.

“Leopold! Go inside and get the mirror!” Felldrake yelled. Leopold flapped his wings and shot to the manor’s direction.

“No!” Donald gasped, worry spiking, momentarily distracted from Felldrake. It was a mistake; Felldrake bowled him over and pinned him down.

“Donald!” José cried from outside of the barrier. Panchito pounded at it, yelling in pain when the barrier reflected the blow back.

“Let go of him!” Xandra demanded, punching the barrier. If she felt the blowback, it didn’t seem to affect her the way it did Panchito.

“I need you to call your family here,” Felldrake told Donald.

“I would never put them in danger,” Donald snarled.

“Then we do this the hard way,” Felldrake said casually. His hand glowed purple, and he reached to Donald’s head. Webby’s bracelet formed a barrier around him, but the magic Felldrake was using was clearly stronger than the potshots back in the woods with the puppet. The shield melted as his hand passed it. Donald struggled against his hold, but it didn’t seem to do anything, and soon Felldrake had his hand gripping Donald’s head, his thumb and pinky pressing hard at his temples.

Donald couldn’t stop the scream that ripped out of his throat. Pain laced up and down his spine, and Felldrake’s magic dug deep into his core. The distant, dying stars spread like poison and reached to the rushing sea, pulling it up and forcing it to react. Donald’s magic felt sullied, dirtied, and it immediately rose to rid Felldrake’s influence from it, screaming; panicked and disoriented from the pain that blinded Donald’s vision.

Felldrake didn’t relent. His decaying space kept digging in, like hooked blades pushing into flesh, catching muscles and keeping its place when pulled back. Donald’s deep-and-waves furiously broke it and washed it away, keeping Donald safe from the corruption Felldrake clearly intended to leave behind. Donald gasped for air in between screams. Through the slits of his eyes, his tunneling vision could still see how Felldrake’s magic left physical marks on him. He could see poisonous purple slivers in his feathers and fought the bile that rose up his stomach.

Rushing wind and sunny sky broke through the dying stars, helping the ocean push it back, and Donald’s eyes snapped open. The brief reprieve Della provided with her magic sent a surge of strength in his limbs and he kicked Felldrake off of him. Around them, the barrier shattered, Xandra’s hand punching through it. At some point the atlas had fallen off her back and it lay abandoned on the ground.

“Donald!” Della’s voice rang, and Donald turned to see her flying to him, plumes of white blooming like feathers around her. To his horror, the kids, Uncle Scrooge, and – he hadn’t even known they were there – Fenton and Gyro followed her.

“Stay back!” Donald yelled. “It’s dangerous!”

“It’s dangerous for you, too!” Della argued, and squawked when purple blast shot at her. She managed to maneuver away, but it was a close call.

“Hey, don’t shoot at my sister!” Donald yelled at Felldrake, and then found himself frantically jumping back when purple crystalline lances shot up from the ground, and he fell to his butt only inches away from the crystals.

Felldrake glanced at Xandra and stretched out his hand. The fallen atlas glowed purple, and it flew to Felldrake’s hand, snapping shut with a thud. Xandra cried out as she disappeared from thin air, locked back inside the atlas.

Donald’s gritted his teeth. He tried to stand, looking around to see Panchito pushed to one side and José to another, all three of them facing Felldrake and staring at the atlas. They needed to take the atlas back.

Donald’s hand gave out when he tried to push himself up, and he glanced at the purple staining his feathers and gulped. He could feel the remnants of Felldrake’s magic coursing through him. His own magic was still trying to slough off the taint, but it was strong, and it made him weak, stealing his strength and lancing phantom pains through his muscles.

He pushed all the same until he stood, no matter how wobbly he felt. He had a sorcerer to defeat and a goddess to steal back.

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Louie didn’t like adventures.

That was obvious. He never really hid that from other people. He didn’t really like adventures, and while he was all for getting riches and seeing all the angles – he did like the planning aspect of the adventures, at least – he knew he could get away from it if he wanted to, by staying home and telling the others to take a break or something.

This time, the adventure came to them, and Louie didn’t want to get involved. But seeing Uncle Donald being pinned down by the goose who grabbed him in Funso’s, seeing Mom being shot at by beams of magic, seeing Xandra disappear when the book she carried on her back was taken away by the goose…

Unacceptable was the only word he could think of. This goose thought he could get here, harm his family, and somehow poof away a goddess? How dare he.

Rare, sudden burst of recklessness pounded at Louie’s head and he ran ahead, closer to the goose, away from his brothers’ and Webby’s reach. They didn’t realize he had ran ahead, too absorbed by the events unfolding by them.

A weird animal thing that might have been the Chupacabra hovered above the goose, holding a bronze mirror with tarnished golden decoration that made Louie’s blood run cold.

“The Mirror of Breaking,” Uncle Donald breathed, recognizing the mirror just as Louie did. The maybe-Chupacabra landed by the goose’s side.

“Good job, Leopold. Keep the mirror safe, okay? Don’t drop it,” the goose said as he petted the maybe-Chupacabra’s head. Louie had to blink at that, because seriously, who named that sort of creature Leopold of all thing?

“Okay, Daddy,” Leopold answered as he let the goose climb onto his back. He flapped his wing and hovered up again.

“Stop!” Panchito yelled. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but a quick blast from the goose stopped him from doing anything, the breath he’d taken wasted when he wheezed in pain. When José attempted the same, the goose only needed to glance his way, and his shoulder stiffened. Even from afar, Louie could see something glowing underneath José’s clothes. And Uncle Donald…

Louie’s stomach lurched. It was a wonder Uncle Donald was still standing at all. With his feathers ruffled and streaked with purple that he would have mistaken for blood had it been red, marring his limbs and the entirety of the left side of his face, Uncle Donald looked like he was ready to keel over at any moment.

Mom floated above, glaring at the goose and the atlas he was holding. She flew closer, and Louie stared at the atlas. He zoomed in on the book, reached into his magic and let it reach out and probed at it.

The cover was solid gold. He could do it.

Gold covered him from head to toe, shimmering and glinting as he concentrated on taking the atlas back. Like always, the world narrowed to a single focus as his vision tunneled to the object he wanted to pull to him. The book was wrenched out of the goose’s hold and shot straight to his hand.

Something snapped out and coiled around his neck, circling the flesh and holding tight without choking. Something infused into his very being, and he found his hold on the atlas slipping, and it fell to the ground with a thud. His gold sense tried to reach out for something, an object to focus on.

There was something above him, calling, beckoning. It felt like sullied gold, but it was there, and solid, and calling. He found his attention drawn to it, and he let the sullied gold occupy his mind, the call of it grew in his mind until he only had eyes for it. Something tugged and yanked at the collar-like thing around his neck, but he was no longer aware of it.

There were faint cries and calls, and the feeling of campfire warmth and lightning sparks trying to reach him, accompanied by soaring skies and rising waves. Something blocked them all. He wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t know.

Something enveloped his shoulders, and some distant part of wanted to curl in disgust and scream. He wasn’t sure why.

There was a tug, a whisper, a spark of something dark. The collar around his neck tightened, though it wasn’t choking. It was just… there. But it tightened all the same, and he felt rather than saw a hand reaching to his eyes, and he closed them purely on reflex.

The darkness was all consuming.

He knew no more.

#ducktales #ducktales 17 #donald duck #panchito pistoles #josé carioca #xandra #della duck #scrooge mcduck #gyro gearloose #fenton crackshell-cabrera #huey duck #dewey duck #louie duck #webby vanderquack #dt17 magic au #magic au #feather one divided

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luvknow · 5 years

Text

KINGPIN | han jisung

genre: hitman!jisung x fem!reader | light angst ; swearing ; drug cartel ; guns ; blood summary: your dad, kingpin of a secret drug cartel, hires a hitman slash bodyguard named jisung so both yours and his life are well-protected. you find your life is a little more exciting with jisung around, but not always in the best way. wc: 15k

There’s an eerie chill in the company building as you made your way to your Father’s grande office that sat ten floors below the surface - The Office in Hell, as you’d call it. Maybe it was the poor insulation of the windows or the mob of men who encircled you and invaded your space bubble, but them and the chilling air was something you could never get used to. The awkward elevator music going down didn’t ease your nerves, either. Why your Father ever insisted on such measures like an entire escort crew for your ‘protection’, you’ll never understand, but you knew better than to argue. Besides, you practically grew up with these men - it was like you had eight uncles.

Well, some of them watched you grow up. Some had, uh, disappeared and had to be replaced in the process. That’s daddy for ya.

The extravagant but incredibly outdated seemingly infinite corridor had the huge cliche oak doors at the end. The two handles, gilded in bright gold, were shaped like the Rod of Aesculapius in honor of you getting accepted into medical school. Although you didn’t follow your Dad’s footsteps and go to business school, he was still very proud of his little Princess for making a name for yourself and this was his daily reminder of how accomplished you’ve become. Business school was what brought this crazy kind of life upon your father anyways, and he’d worry everyday if you got involved in this lifestyle. So he thanked God you got into med school.

Two of the men opened the door for you as if even the Rod of Aesculapius did not deserve to be touched by your hands. It’s been a while since you’ve visited home that you forgot how much they treated you like royalty, like an actual princess. You supposed they weren’t exactly wrong… Drug Pusher Princess had a certain ring to it, didn’t it?

Your Dad sat in his favorite leather chair staring at some paperwork with his glasses resting on the tip of his tiny nose. If this were anywhere but ten floors below, you might have believed he was doing real paperwork for the Soju company, but the wads of cash next to the wooden cart of cocaine made it less convincing.

You saw your Dad’s eyes light up and sparkle when he realized it was you. “My little girl!”

“Hi, Dad,” you greeted warmly before walking over and giving him a big hug. Kingpin of a massive drug cartel, CEO of an international Soju brand, and Professor at the University, your Dad’s number one job was to be your number one supporter and love you endlessly. Really, you couldn’t hate him for living life on the edge like this after he and your Mother got divorced - he was still the best Dad anyone could ask for, and that was the most important part, right? Being filthy rich helped you oversee the cocaine, too.

“It’s not everyday a Dad gets to see his only child. This calls for a drink. Jisung! Get the good whiskey from the glass case!” he called into the neighboring room.

“Yes, sir,” you heard an unfamiliar voice.

“Dad, it’s like one in the afternoon…”

“A celebration does not wait for five o’ clock, Princess.”

From the room over came a man who you’ve never seen before carrying a tray with ice, two crystal tumblers, and a huge vial of liquid gold whiskey. He must be new, at least in the last couple of years since the last time you’ve visited. He was definitely different than the rest of your Dad’s henchmen. He was on the shorter side, so it probably wasn’t his strength that got him hired. Maybe he was intelligent? A hacker, perhaps?

The man could tell you were staring - no, analyzing him, so he dared to look back. He knew better than to glare at the King’s Princess, but you could tell he didn’t like how you were already judging him after five whole seconds.

After pouring your drinks, handing them off, and exiting the room you dared to ask. “Fresh meat?”

“Hardly,” your Dad chuckled. “I hired him shortly after your last visit a couple of years ago.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s my right hand and my Hitman.”

“Whoa, what!? Dad! You said you would never do that kind of thing!” you whined worriedly.

“You don’t understand how dangerous this business is.”

“Uh, yeah I do! How many times have you called me while I was doing my rotations at the hospital to keep an eye out for your men? I literally see everything.”

“That’s exactly why I hired Jisung, a Grade-A Hitman. I don’t want to involve you anymore than I have to already, so hopefully he’ll lessen my calls to you while you’re on duty. And you don’t want your old man to end up in the hospital either, or worse yet dead, now do you?”

“No…”

“Ok then, end of discussion.”

“No, not the end!” you leaned over his desk to whisper so neither that Jisung guy nor even the wall of men behind you could hear. “Where did you find him, anyways? Off the street? What if he’s working for someone? Or-or worse, trying to overtake your empire?”

“With Jeongin’s help, we did an extremely extensive background and everything. No record of him ever getting involved with another group. And to answer your question, yes, I found him off the street.”

“What the hell, Dad! You’re so careless!”

“I’ll drink to that.” Without your consent, he clinked your two glasses together with a cheeky grin on his dumb, wrinkly face. “Lighten up, Buttercup. There’s no need for your inherent apprehension on such a happy day.”

You didn’t answer before sipping on whiskey with the glass between your pouty lips. Your eyes naturally drifted around the room trying to see how much it changed since the time you cried to your Dad about how you thought about dropping out due to the immense pressure. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place, so nothing had changed other than the unfamiliar man in the next room. While your Dad busied himself with another glass, you dared to get up and peak into the room.

Jisung was wiping down a pistol. Knowing that he was ‘off the streets’, you bet it was unregistered. The sight of a gun and being in its presence really made your skin crawl. You didn’t know Jisung at all, but if he was your Dad’s Hitman, there was no way he’d be reckless with a pistol, right? So at least you knew he was skilled with a weapon. He wore all black and the piece of clothing that stood out to you the most was his leather jacket.

He noticed you peaking in almost immediately and raised his brow. What could the accomplished Princess be looking for? You watched him eye you up and down so slowly that you felt like you might as well have been naked. His gazing and the slight curl on his pretty lips was incredibly intimate and hardly appropriate, especially for a first meeting. Maybe seduction was part of his specialty. Or was he mocking you with it?

“Who are you?” you asked hoping your tone was strong enough to hide your embarrassment.

“Jisung.”

“Where are you from?”

“Off the street,” he teased. “At least that’s what you assume, right?”

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“It’s hard not to when it’s my job.”

“Your job is to protect my Dad, not eavesdrop on uninvited conversations.”

“Spying is just a small fraction of my job, love.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Are you picking a fight with a Hitman already, Sugarplum?”

Your Dad interjected at the perfect time to break up the tension between his precious prodigal Princess and his right-hand unbounded Knight. Jisung was not bothered since he was accustomed to arguing with the enemy, but you on the other hand might as well have steam coming out your ears. You may have gotten the last word, but the smirk on Jisung’s lips let you know that he didn’t care that you won this battle because in the end, he was going to win the war.

“Not a fight,” you corrected before flashing your Dad a fake smile. “Just some bantering.”

“As you always do - it’s what you’re best at, after all. Just like your mother ~”

“Dad!”

Jisung didn’t try very hard to hide his snickering and now you could check off ‘Dad embarrasses you in front of his Hitman’ from The Drug Cartel Bingo sheet.

“Are we going out for lunch, or what?” Your Dad began to push you out of the room before you could object. “Jisung, I trust you can take care of my office while I’m away.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll be sure to order you something.”

“A bit generous for office-sitting, don’t you think - ow!” Dad nudged your arm with his bony elbow, shoving you through the doorway and forcing you out the office in general so you both could finally get going to lunch.

“You were never nice to strangers, you know,” he scolded while you two and eight men stuffed into the elevator. “Every time we went to parties or ran into friends on the street, you were always so suspicious of them.”

“Yeah, because all the girls at school only liked me for our money, so I figured the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.”

“Well, you weren’t wrong. But Jisung’s different, ok? He’s a good kid, he’s just a kid.”

“‘Just a kid’, yeah a kid you found off the street who can wield a pistol? Seriously, he’s a total stranger! What makes him so special!?”

“Ok I lied, he’s not from the streets, or whatever you kids call the bad neighborhoods these days.” Dad made you wait until you both got into his completely blacked-out car limo thing before continuing. “He’s one of my teacher’s assistance.”

“You’re kidding, right? You have a TA as your Hitman? Is this not like… conflict of interest?”

“Not when he’s my best and most loyal student.”

“How did you convince him to join you in this kind of life?”

“He doesn’t look like it, but Jisung’s a total suck up, so it wasn’t very hard. Of course he was surprised at first when I offered the position, but completely willing. Did the whole drug test, psychological test, multiple physicals, hazed him a bit and everything - he’s perfect. I like him a lot, too - might even offer him a permanent job once he graduates and it doesn’t look like he’s leaving anytime soon, so you better play nice and get used to his company. He’s family now.”

“These men are not real family, Dad.”

“Tell that to your eight uncles.”

Lunch was filled with the most extravagant salads, daytime cocktails, and Dad only ordered the finest cuts of meats. Even for his Hitman, he ordered nothing short of a Michelin star special. There were many moments in your life when you thought your Dad was too nice for his own good and your ‘inherent apprehension’ as he worded it was at an all time high towards everyone around him because of those thoughts. It would break your heart if anyone were to get too close and bring down his entire empire he built just so you, him, and even your Mom could live a happily and worry-less. You didn’t care how many Hitmen or guards he considered family - you were his real and only family and you were the only one truly looking out for him, even if that meant you would be put in danger.

Just don’t tell Dad you care too much, otherwise he really might think you’ll take over as the head one day just so he wouldn’t have to do it anymore.

When you both arrived back to his office, Jisung was exactly where you left him - except instead of cleaning a pistol, he was cleaning a silencer. Immediately upon seeing you and Dad, he got up to bow. Ugh, he was a total suck up!

“See, I don’t even make him do that,” your Dad defended. “Most loyal TA, I’m telling you.”

You only rolled your eyes. “I’m heading back to the hospital.”

“Jisung will escort you.”

“No,” you said flatly.

“C’mon, it’ll give you to some bonding time! And the hospital isn’t exactly in the safest part of the city.”

“Oh my God, I’ll be fine -”

“That’s an order,” Dad said in his strictly no funny business tone. “Am I seeing you again soon or through facetime for the next two years?”

“I promise I’ll visit more often. I just hate going up and down the elevator and walking the mile-long hallway.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise. Just ask one of your uncles to carry you next time, or something. Jisung, text me when she’s at the hospital.”

“Yes, sir.”

You didn’t even bother arguing your Dad’s over-protective measures. “Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, sweetie!”

You’re out of the door before Jisung could catch up and he thought how this must be the med student in you. He clearly remembered that was how all the med students walked around his campus like they always had somewhere to be and were more important than all the other ‘smaller’ students. He was never a fan of them and he wondered if he was about to add another person to his list.

Why was Dad’s elevator music always this awkward and cliche?

“So… you TA for my Dad?” you asked, trying to play nice, as your Dad had put it.

He chuckled a bit before responding - or maybe it was a scoff. “So you figured out I’m not from the streets?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that… I’m not as trusting as my Dad.”

“No worries. You’re just smart. I would harass a stranger if they got near my family, too.”

“I didn’t harass you…”

“What would you call it then?”

“Being protective.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Jisung’s car was already outside of the company building. At least you think it’s his car, but could a business grad student really afford an all-black Ferrari? There was no fucking way.

“This is your car?” you asked incredulously.

He thought you’d be used to these types of cars by the way your Dad lived his life, but maybe he was wrong. “Yes and no - more like your Dad gave it to me.”

“He’s just giving out cars now?”

“No ~ Think of it as a business car.”

“Business cars are shitty silver-colored sedans that have to be manually opened with a key, not a shiny black Ferrari with butterfly doors!”

“Would you rather take the subway?”

“No…”

“Well then,” he began before fluttering the car doors open. “Your chariot awaits, Princess.”

“I have a name, you know.”

“Your chariot awaits, _____.”

Damn, so he knew your name. Was that all part of being a Hitman? Knowing their name, their background, their entire life… or did he just have to know what their face looked like before he shot a bullet through it? Did he just know your name, did he know everything about you, or somewhere in between?

The beginning of the car ride was silent until Jisung hit the highway and began weaving in and out of the lanes like those douchey car dudes who revved up their engines any chance they could get to show off how big their dick was. What the hell was wrong with this guy!? He must have been used to this kind of driving from all the chasing or whatever the hell he does, but that didn’t mean he should be driving like this with a good ol’ civilian like yourself in the passenger’s seat!

“Are you trying to take me to the hospital or put me in one!?” you shrieked loudly while gripping on to the handle on the roof like your life depended on it.

“What do you mean? This is normal driving for me.”

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? Is it because I said you’re from the street? I said I was sorry! Is this part of your scare tactic, or something?”

“I could never hurt you. I’d lose my job,” he teased.

“Then please, for the love of God, slow down!”

“I would if we weren’t already here.”

“Huh?” Looking outside the tinted windows, as much as you hated to admit it, Jisung was right. You arrived safely in front of your hospital with your heart beating faster than his driving. “Oh… That was fast…”

“You’re welcome.”

The sarcastic man left the car first, running around to flip your door open like some chivalrous Knight. It was weird labeling him as a Knight - that and Hitman weren’t necessarily synonymous, but both were somehow appropriate. The door flipped open and Jisung held his hand out for you, but you took a pass on that.

“Thank you for driving,” you muttered to him, feeling a bit awkward. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around?”

“Of course you will. Have a nice day, ______.”

“W-Wait!” Jisung turned back around and raised his brow, which you now figured was his curiosity quirk. It was quite cute, but don’t tell him that. “How much do you know about me?”

He pursed his lips tightly together as if he was too embarrassed to answer. “Do you really want to know?”

“Never mind, you already answered it.”

Then he breaks out laughing. Ah, even cuter than his eyebrow quirk… What was with you and simple things that boys do that made your heart leap? You hated it. Well, he was definitely charming like a Knight.

“Have a nice day, _____,” he repeated. “Call me if you ever need a ride anywhere.”

“Thanks, but I don’t have your number.”

“I’ll text you so you’ll have it.”

“Wait, you have my number?”

Jisung only winked before getting in his car and driving off as fast as you arrived.

“Have a nice day, too,” you muttered to no one. “This is why I hate mobsters.”

When you walked into your unit, you saw all of your lady classmates eyeing you teasingly. Oh no, did they see everything? Now the whole department’s going to know about Jisung because for some reason med students do not know how to shut their mouths when it came to juicy gossip. They erupted in a song of oohs and ahhs, but luckily it was only your closest friend Somi who rushed to your side with heart eyes and open ears.

“Is that the famous guy you’ve been seeing?” she teased. “You didn’t tell me he was a whole man.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked innocently.

“Oh, come on, the entire hospital saw you come out of his car! We could hear the engine from a mile away. No one expected little _____ to date a man like that ~! He’s tasty, dude.”

“Somi!”

“A whole ass meal.”

“Ok, that’s enough!” you blushed.

“He’s hot.”

“Look, I’m not seeing him! He just works for my Dad, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe you should pretend you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dr. San didn’t seem too happy seeing you with him ~”

Dr. Choi San, the apple of everyone in the entire hospital’s eyes. Name any person in any of the departments, patient or faculty, and they’ll tell you how much and what they love about Dr. Choi San. You were no exception - you’ve had a major crush on him since your volunteering years as an undergrad student and he was still in med school. If you thought he was hot then, well damn, how would you describe him now? Like McDreamy from Grey’s Anatomy? You’d talk here and there, and at times you’d follow him on rotations, but there wasn’t much interaction beyond that. You simply admired him from afar at this point. But to hear he’s upset about you being with Jisung? A total stranger? Man, if only your ego could fly higher than space.

“Really?” you grinned happily. “Do you think he’s jealous?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Well, in that case then yes, that is the guy I’m seeing.”

“Ugh, you dog… I love this side of you. So what’s his name? Does he have any brothers?”

Let’s see how long you can pull this off.

unknown [13:15]: Hey, Princess. It’s Jisung.

old man [02:45]: Hey, hun. Are you working overnight?

you [02:48]: Yes, why? What did you do this time?

old man [02:49]: Room 430.

“Dammit,” you cursed. A long, tired, heavy sigh escaped your lips as you dragged your feet to the fourth floor. Dad had a pretty good streak of keeping his men away from your hospital, but at 2:45 in the morning was the regression back to day zero.

Room 430 was one of the fancier and completely private rooms, so it was just one of your Dad’s men that was hospitalized. You walked in expecting to only see him unconscious on the bed, but you were welcomed with that and an unscathed Jisung reading next to him. It’s been a couple of weeks since you last saw him, so it was a little awkward, but you were mostly embarrassed because now he’s seen you in your scrubs and white coat with messy hair and droopy eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted casually.

“Hi. You look completely fine, what are you doing here?”

“It was my fault this happened, so I wanted to stay until he wakes up. Plus, I was hoping I’d see you.”

“Did you need something?”

“No. I’ve just missed you since our first meeting. That’s all,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Ha ha… But you’re ok though, right? No bullet or stab wounds or whatever you guys go through nowadays?”

“Completely fine. No need to worry, love.”

“I said to not call me that!” You sighed again for the millionth time that shift. What was the point of arguing with him? “What happened tonight? Why did you say this was your fault?”

“Some guys tried to scam us during a delivery and we got ambushed. They were merely pawns in the enemy’s operation though, it didn’t take long for us to eliminate them, but Mingi here got stabbed from behind and I failed to watch his back.”

“Same old thug shit as usual.”

“Exactly. God, I feel so stupid.” The Hitman ran a hand through his messy hair before rubbing the tired from his eyes. You almost felt bad. His sleep schedule must be as fucked up as yours was, maybe even worse. Who knows what times of the day Dad needed him? But what do you say to a Hitman having a crisis?

“It’s not easy working for my Dad, but you’re doing fine. He likes you.”

“Yeah? How would you know?”

“You’re alive, right?” You saw Jisung’s eyes widen in fear for a split second before you laughed. It was entertaining to see his face express something other than pure cockiness. “I’m kidding! Half kidding… he told me likes you.”

“Wow, look at you. Who knew you could smile,” he teased again. He liked your smile. It was charming in its own way - in a way that was you. He liked the color of your blush after he told you, too.

“Shut up… What did the doctor say about Mingi?”

“He’ll be just fine,” a familiar voice said.

Behind you stood Dr. San with his signature charming smile on his lips and a clipboard with Mingi’s paperwork. You felt your heart leap in your throat, stopping you dead silent and that did not go past Jisung. The way your eyes widened, how your back stiffened - you were a totally different person around this guy. You saw Jisung do the eyebrow thing at you and you glared back, telling him that he better shut up or else.

“How are you, _____?” Dr. San asked gently.

“Good! I mean, I’m well. Tired, but well!” Oh God, were you stuttering?

“Yeah, overnight shifts can do that to you. Do you know these men…?” he hesitated, mostly indicating to Jisung rather than the unconscious patient on the bed.

“Close family friends.” At least you weren’t lying. “How is Mingi?”

“He didn’t lose too much blood. He has his stitches, so once he wakes up he’s ready to leave whenever.”

“And the reason for the IV?”

“He seemed dehydrated, which may be the reason he’s unconscious. Rather than fainting from blood loss, he fainted from the sight of it. The IV should help him recover and get his fluids in check quicker.”

You couldn’t help your face from falling flat. God, what kind of weak men did your Dad employ nowadays that they couldn’t even stop an ambush and fainted from the sight of their own blood!? Really, it was unbelievable, and even Jisung thought the synopsis was ridiculous.

“Thank you for the debrief. I’ll take it from here.”

“Sounds good.” Dr. San headed towards the door, but stopped himself and laid a hand on your shoulder. You instantaneously tensed up and prayed it went unnoticed, though Dr. San was known for paying close attention to the small details. “Call me if you ever need anything,” he said. And then he was gone.

“S-Sounds good!” you called out the door.

“He reminds me of those doctors on all the dramas,” Jisung scoffed. “Totally theatrical with that exit. What’s with that guy? Is he in love with you, or something?”

“More like the other way around… Although rumor has it the day you dropped me off a couple of weeks ago, he was not too happy to see that. Why, are you jealous?”

“You like that guy!? Why!?”

“He’s a smoking hot doctor, what else can I say?”

“He has no personality! Where’s the gall? The entertainment? What a bore… so he’s threatened by me, huh?”

“He… may be jealous because I may or may not have told a few friends that you’re this guy I’ve been seeing…”

“Oh?”

Jisung got up from his seat with the widest smirk on his playful little lips. Even his strut to you was playful, like you boosted his ego out of this atmosphere and into another one. He ended up centimeters in front of you, leaning his face in to see if he could get some sort of reaction out of you the same way Dr. San did, but better because HE was better. He heard your breath hitch in your throat and that was all he needed.

“I don’t remember consenting to this, Princess.”

“I know, I’m sorry! I got a little too excited hearing Dr. San was jealous… And everyone would not shut up about asking if I was seeing anyone.”

“Are you even seeing someone?”

“No, but whenever I said no, all the nurses tried to set me up with their sons so before I trapped myself into a series of bad blind dates, I lied and said yes and now here we are… But by next week, everyone will forget I ever said anything, so there’s no need to be upset, right?”

“Does that mean I win in the end?”

“Win what, against Dr. San?”

“Mhm.”

“I mean, I guess? I didn’t think this situation called for a winner or loser…”

“Silly girl, there’s always a winner and a loser no matter the circumstance. And like hell am I going to lose you to a guy like that. I always win in the end, anyways. So if you must, by all means say I’m your incredibly sexy, irresistible, and delicious boyfriend.”

“Jeez, are you always this competitive? And I’m not a trophy…” you muttered. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest? It seems like you’ve had a long day.”

“I did, but I’m not tired. When does your shift end?”

“At six in the morning.”

“I’ll wait for you. You look like you could use the company and we can get breakfast after.”

You wanted to object, and maybe it’s because you’re a little disoriented due to lack of sleep or because breakfast sounds so good right now, but you didn’t. “I’d like that.”

“See, look at us getting along. Your father will be happy to hear about this.”

“Oh, he’ll be ecstatic.”

“Why the hyperbole?”

“If he hears stuff like I’m getting along with his Hitman or anything remotely related to The Business then he’ll think I’m that much closer to taking over.”

“And that’s the last thing you want, right?”

“Exactly -!”

“_____, get back to work,” Dr. San said uncharacteristically strict while passing the room.

“We can talk more during breakfast,” Jisung reassured. “Have fun with the rest of your shift.”

“Thanks. You have my number for some odd reason, so text me if you need me.”

Jisung’s laugh was the last thing you heard before you left the room with a newfound burst of energy.

Maybe you were wrong to judge him too quickly. He seemed like a totally normal guy, right? But no, that couldn’t be it. He was first and foremost your Dad’s Hitman. There was nothing totally normal about it at all. But at least he acted normal around you. That was all that mattered for now.

The last hours of your shift went as normal other than receiving a lot of compliments of how you’ve adjusted to the overnight shift life quite easily. Even Dr. San was giving you more attention. Could it be because Jisung was here and Dr. San was feeling jealous and territorial? No, _____, you were in over your head… Well, whatever the reason, you’d have to tell Jisung later that he was winning.

“That guy is yummier up close,” Somi giggled brightly just as she was clocking in and you were clocking out. “Good catch. You should bring him to the faculty party as your plus one.” You groaned as a reply and left without saying anything. “Does he have any brothers or not!?”

The rising sun was shining brightly through the floor-to-ceiling high glass windows in the lobby. Your Dad was one of the few commissioners who donated to the hospital so they could redo the lobby and it turned out so beautiful. It was the little things like this that made the overnight shift worth it. Jisung texted you to meet him outside and he already had the car pulled up and ready to go. The sun hit him and his car just at the right angle as if whatever God that was up in the sky was letting you know that hey, this dude isn’t so bad! Give him a chance and be his friend! But again, maybe you were being delusional due to lack of sleep.

Like a gentleman, he opened the door for you once again.

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” you told him.

“Princesses never open their own doors.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? Am I a prissy brat, or something?”

“Before I met you, Mr. _____ kept on referring to you as his Princess. I guess I got attached to the nickname. I kinda like it, don’t you?”

“No!”

“Fine fine, I won’t call you that anymore ~ Whatever the Princess wants.”

You buckled your seat belt extra tight and held onto the overhead handle before Jisung even settled in his seat. He stared blankly at you, unable to believe that you were being this extra and dorky. So he’s a crazy driver, what student wasn’t these days!? He didn’t bother responding - rather, he just drove safely like a nerd.

“See, is that so hard to do all the time?” you scolded.

You had absolutely no idea where Jisung was taking you. He didn’t even ask where you might want to go. He could be kidnapping you, for all you know, and you were letting him! The idea sounded ridiculous, but it was all fine when he pulled up to a local diner.

“I know what you’re thinking - it’s not your typical bottomless mimosa and avocado toast kind of place. But their french toast is to die for.”

“Is that really what you think of me?”

“It’s what I think about all daughters with a terrifyingly powerful father. Besides, I don’t know anything about you.”

“You’re such a liar! You knew my number before I even met you! I bet you know everything about me!”

“Not everything ~ Like I didn’t know you could look so good in scrubs,” he winked. “I only know the basic stuff - like your academic and athletic accomplishments, your allergies, your past pets, favorite color, etcetera etcetera.”

“Yeah, that’s totally basic knowledge… How did you even find all of that out?”

“Mr. _____ gave me your file the day before you came to visit. He thinks we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so might as well get to know you a little bit.”

“Couldn’t we have done that the normal way? You know, like a regular ass conversation? Wait, I have a file?”

“It sounds worse than it is. It’s actually kind of cute. Like his weird mobster version of a scrapbook.”

The diner looked like those old school types you see in American movies. The booths and bar stools were a candy red, the walls were turquoise, everything was accented with tacky chrome, and there was a jukebox busting out the oldies in the corner. Although this place was a bit odd, it was still home-y in its own way. The hostess sat you two at one of the booths by the window that overlooked the busy city.

The menu was ginormous. There was a whole side just for drinks! On normal days when you had class or had rotations in the morning, your go-to drink was anything with three espresso shots in it. You can’t remember the last time you had a tall glass of cold orange juice with your food. Breakfast was always one of the hardest foods to choose from because both sweet and savory options were just too good to pass up. You were probably just shopping with your eyes. You trusted Jisung, for whatever reason, on his french toast suggestion, so you’ll order that.

The man of the hour already knew what he wanted to order and was flipping through his phone while you were looking. You noticed all of the bloody cuts and bruises that dressed both of his hands and your loud gasp made him look up at you.

“What?” he asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Instinctively, as if Jisung was one of your kiddie patients, you tenderly took one of his hands and ran your thumbs over the dried-out scars. He hissed in pain, so they must have been deep cuts.

“They’re just small cuts, it’s not like I could die like Mingi.”

“But they could get infected! Who knows what rusty, dirty stuff you touched last night. We have to go back after breakfast so I can take care of it.”

“You mean so you can take care of me ~?”

“No, you idiot -”

“Are you two lovebirds ready?” the cheery waitress asked.

“Huh? Lovebirds?” You guessed it did kind of look that way because of how you were holding Jisung’s hand, but didn’t the scrubs and his blood (was it even HIS blood?) sort of prompt a stranger’s eyes that you guys weren’t together? … Ok, maybe not. “We’re not -”

“Yes, we’re ready!” Jisung held onto your hand tightly before you could pull away. He didn’t have to look at your face to know you were mortified and that only made him stifle his giggle. “I’ll have the cinnamon french toast special. How about you, baby?”

Hey Google, what’s the cruelest way to kill your Dad’s Hitman? “I… will have the same thing. With orange juice, please.”

“Coming right up!”

She took both menus and the second she walks into the kitchen, Jisung is lying down on the booth laughing it up like a hyena.

“You should see your face!” he giggled.

“You think you’re so funny, huh?”

“I think I’m hilarious.”

“If I don’t like my food, you’re paying.”

A bullet whizzed in between you and Jisung and then there was shattered glass everywhere. Time paused. There wasn’t enough time to cover your face, so bits and pieces stuck to one side of your cheek and you can feel the blood trickle down like they were tears. While the rest of the restaurant ducked under the tables and counters for cover, you were too mortified to move on your own.

From under the table, Jisung took your hands and pulled you down with him before other gunshots were fired.

He picked off as much glass as he could on your cheeks before holding your face in his hands. Your eyes couldn’t focus on one space at a time like you were trying to take in as much detail of what was happening as possible, but the tears were getting in the way. You were terrified.

“Hey, look at me,” he said sternly. You did as you were told, but then the tears started to fall. This couldn’t be real. “Listen to me, ok? Stay here and don’t move.”

“D-Don’t leave me…!”

“I promise I’m not leaving without you. I’ll be right back, ok? Promise me you won’t move.”

You nodded, wondering how could he be so calm under this circumstance? He must be used to it, after all. Before leaving, he pulled out his shiny pistol from his hidden holster and made his way towards the shooter or shooters.

From the broken window, you could hear indistinguishable yelling and multiple gunshots. He was alone out there. And who knew how many shooters he was up against! There was no way he could do this alone. But you were defenseless and had absolutely no way of helping other than doing what you were told and staying put under the table.

Then the shooting stopped. For a solid five minutes, there was complete silence, with the exception of your loud breathing and other innocent people’s soft crying. Everyone’s breath hitched in their throat when the doorbell rang. You heard heavy boots travel towards your direction and that’s when you knew you were the target from this whole thing all along. Daughter of a Kingpin, of course! What else could be the reason? Were they going to kill you? No, that would be stupid. What would they gain out of that? They must be here to kidnap you and force your Dad to pay them in billions so you could come home.

The boots stopped right at your table and you felt like you could die right there. You had no clue what this man even looked like, but he was easily the most terrifying man you’ve had the pleasure of meeting. He didn’t move at all while he was there. It was like he was teasing you, like he was making you wait and then when you least expected it, BAM! He’d drag you from under the table and throw you in their blacked-out van.

Another gunshot was heard from inside the diner and the man in the heavy boots fell to the floor with a big thud that vibrated the whole restaurant.

Jisung was the next face you saw when he crouched down to check on you. Before he could ask if you were ok, you lunged out from under the table and went straight into his arms.

“Are you ok?” he whispered while holding you tightly. You could only nod while your face was buried in his shoulder. “We gotta go, Princess. You can fall in love with me some other time.”

Reluctantly, you pulled away. There were splatters of blood all over the poor Hitman’s face and it was horrifying.

“Blood…” you muttered, trying to wipe it off.

“It’s not mine,” he reassured. “C’mon, I need to take you home.”

He took your hand and the both of you booked it to his car before any of the diner staff or customers could question you. Just outside, the streets were empty of people and cars and sirens could be heard far off in the distance. It was a total mess in the parking lot with five huge ass men laying in their own pool of blood.

“Holy shit,” you said, all wide-eyed.

“Yeah… This job gets a little messy at times,” Jisung sighed.

The car ride to your apartment is silent. Hell, you didn’t even question how he knew where you lived without having to ask you. All of what just happened happened so fast… like in a matter of seven minutes. You’re still completely shaken up about it, but what mattered was that both you and Jisung left as a whole with no major wounds. You had a bloody cheek with glass in it, but did Jisung even get a scratch on him?

He parked the car and did the courtesy of walking you all the way up to your room so he knew you were safe. The air between you two was tense at the moment and now might not be the most appropriate time for Jisung to be thinking this, but holy shit, were you filthy rich or what. The lobby of your apartment complex had a full blown marble fountain smack dab in the middle of it! True, you were in medical school, so your money was hard-earned, but didn’t your Dad own this building, anyways? And of course you lived on the highest floor in the farthest corner of the entire complex. You must have an incredible view.

“Don’t leave home for the rest of the day, ok?” Jisung demanded once you reached your room. “If you have work later today or tonight or any other day, call me. I’ll drive you.”

“Ok, but you have to come inside first.”

“Why?”

“You need to clean up. Your scratched up hands, all the blood, you can’t go out in public like this the whole day.”

“I can do that later -”

“Please?” you begged. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

With your teary puppy dog eyes, how was he supposed to refuse? “Ok, but I can’t stay long.”

Your home isn’t exactly how he imagined it. Rather than huge expensive paintings and fancy golden vases and marble counter tops, your home was quite simple and clean. Minimalist was a good way to describe it, with bits and pieces of what made your home totally you. His personal favorite touches were the scattered coffee mugs, the ginormous fuzzy rug in the living room, and pictures of you and your friends hung up in different places.

You led him to the kitchen table. “Sit,” you ordered like he was your puppy.

He did as he was told while you ran to the bathroom to get your emergency kit full of all kinds of stuff that only hospital faculty could get their hands on. You came back with a huge plastic case and Jisung’s eyes widened.

“Damn, do you have the whole hospital in that thing!? You’re not gonna give me a shot, are you?”

“No, you idiot.”

“Good, I don’t do well with needles.”

“You don’t do well with needles, but you can shoot a perfect head shot?”

“Yes, and never forget that.”

You started at his face, taking a damp warm towel and wiping off the sticky blood. Jisung could have easily done it himself, but it was nice to be cared for like this once in a while - like he meant something to someone. He watched how your eyes moved bit by bit to make sure you wiped his face clean entirely. You could feel his eyes etching his name into your soul, but somehow you were able to ignore it this time. Maybe because you were too busy worrying.

“Stop worrying,” Jisung scolded.

“How can you tell?”

He then harshly poked your forehead. “Your eyebrows make you look stressed. You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep doing that.”

“Sorry,” was all you could mutter out before you started cleaning his hands.

His hands were surprisingly warm - a striking contrast to your icy ones, like your blood was running cold. But they were soft - much softer than his calloused ones, and they felt nice. First, you wiped away the dirt and dry blood. Then, you took out the sanitizing solution and cotton swabs.

“This is going to sting,” you warned.

“Like… A lot?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Wait wait wait - ah -!” he shrieked loudly while yanking his hands to his chest. “Bro, that shit hurts!”

“Give me your hands back!”

“No!”

“Oh my God, how old are you?”

“Old enough to reject medical care if I want to!”

“You’re such a child. Some bad ass Hitman you are,” you sighed before packing up the emergency kit and putting it back in the bathroom. “If that gets infected, don’t come crawling back to me to fix it.”

You take a moment for yourself in the bathroom to calm down and try to process what happened this morning. You got into Jisung’s car, drove to the diner, ordered food, and then got in the middle of a shoot out. Somewhere in between there had to be some indication the shooting was going to happen, but you couldn’t recall any suspicions. Maybe they were just too good and neither you nor Jisung noticed them. Even though that was all over with, who’s to say that it won’t happen again any time soon? And how was your Dad going to clean up all the blood?

After collecting yourself, you joined Jisung back in the kitchen only to see him talking on the phone.

“I’ll be right there,” he said before hanging up.

“Is that my Dad?” you asked.

“Yeah. He wants me back at the office so I can tell him what happened. I told him you were safe and sound here at home.”

“You’re leaving…?”

Jisung walked up to you and laid his heavy hands on your heavy shoulders. “I have to report back to him now that you’re involved. If I don’t soon, you could be in really great danger, and I don’t want that to happen. Like I said, call me or text me if you need a ride anywhere, need to go to class or work, or just want to talk. Understand?” You nodded, trusting his every word. “Good. Now get some rest, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Can you text me once you get to my Dad’s?”

“Are you worrying about me now? A little backwards, isn’t it?” he teased. “I’ll text you as soon as I get there. I promise.”

Jisung left you to your own devices and you spent the following half hour closing all of the blinds, covering all of the windows, and crawling under your fluffy blankets waiting for Jisung to text you he was safe at your Dad’s. For a Hitman, he was acting more like a bodyguard than anything, but you can’t complain. Without him, you’re sure you would have been kidnapped by whomever was at the diner. You’re thankful for him, and he’s great company, too. Your mundane life was a little more exciting when he was around.

jisung [07:56]: I’m here at your Dad’s.

you [07:57]: good.

jisung [07:57]: Raincheck on breakfast?

you [07:59]: only if you’re paying.

jisung [08:01]: Sure thing. Rest well, _____.

You fell into a deep sleep.

The next time you saw Jisung was the following day when you told him you had an 8:00 am lecture. Jisung’s circadian rhythm may have no reasonable cycle, but even he knew that 8:00 am was way too early for class to start! His business lectures didn’t even start until nine! You felt terrible when he pulled up with messy hair and barely-opened eyes, but you were too terrified to travel without him. Besides, he offered! He’s totally consenting to this.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you teased. You held out one of your coffee thermoses to him and his eyes lit up like the sun. “Figured you needed some of this.”

“God, you have no idea.”

Jisung continued to drive you to and from places for weeks, whether it be to school, the hospital, or even to the grocery store or some general store. You thought he’d act more like a chauffeur than anything, but really he was acting more like your husband.

Grocery shopping often went like this:

“Kale? Really?” he gagged. “Can’t you buy some good food? You know, like meat and beer.”

“Do you live at my apartment and eat my food?”

“I will if it means you’ll eat good food. I should cook for you. I bet Dr. San can’t cook.”

Shopping at the general store went like this:

“Why are you buying such expensive towels? Just get the cheaper ones.”

“These are softer. Stop policing my shopping!”

“Quit throwing your money away!”

And then dropping you off at work went like this:

“Have a nice day at work, honey ~!” he screamed out the window. “Love you! Stay away from Dr. San!”

The rest of the week went about the same way and you were already tired of seeing Jisung’s annoyingly handsome face for that many days straight. On your only day off, just when you thought you were going to have a whole day of relaxing and staying home, a knock came at your door. At first, you’re terrified. Only a handful of people know where you live and nothing ever gets delivered right at your doorstep. You take one of your chef’s knives from the kitchen and approached the door cautiously.

“_____? It’s Jisung, open up.”

“Oh, for the love of -” When you opened the door, you pointed the knife lazily at him.

“Whoa, chill!”

“I didn’t call for your services.”

“‘Services’, what am I, a stripper? I know you didn’t. I’m here because your Dad wants to see you.”

“God, I hate it when he does this! He never gives me a heads up or anything! It’s my only day off, do I really have to go?”

“Yes. He said this is urgent. He also said to change into some work out clothes.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” You groaned in protest and dragged your feet back to your room to change. “Cute jammies, by the way.”

“Shut up.”

After changing into some clothes that you haven’t touched for months, Jisung drove you back to the Office in Hell. You had a feeling this had to do with the diner shooting earlier this week, which made national news. You for sure thought there was going to be some wanted pictures of you and Jisung fleeing the scene, but all the anchors mentioned was that all suspects ended up dying on the spot. Dad must have done something or paid some ungodly amount to the police so that you and Jisung were completely erased from the story, but you weren’t complaining. You didn’t want a bunch of reporters or police asking you questions.

The elevator ride down and the walk down the hallway doesn’t get any shorter the more you travel through it, but you would much rather have Mr. Hitman beside you instead of eight men in suits and sunglasses.

The second you walked through the door, you’re Dad ran to you and hugged you tightly.

“Oh, Sweetie, are you ok?” he cooed, checking the scars on your cheek where the glass hit you. “My poor daughter! Those fuckers are going to pay -”

“Dad, I’m fine.”

“Of course you are, all thanks to Jisung, right? Did I raise your pay yet like I said I would?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent.”

“So what was so important that you called me here unannounced on my day off?”

“Right.” Inside your Dad’s fancy Dior suit jacket, he pulled out a pistol that matched Jisung’s and handed it over to you like it was a tv remote.

“Whoa, what the hell, Dad!?” you flinched, bumping your back into Jisung. “Why are you giving that to me?”

“You need it for self defense.”

“You think I know how to use that?”

“No, and that’s why Jisung is going to teach you. He’ll teach you how to shoot a gun, defend yourself if someone tries to kidnap you, the whole package.”

“Dad, you know I don’t want to be involved in this any more than I already am!” you whined, refusing to take the gun. “I’m digging a deeper hole for myself the more I’m around either of you. I can’t be doing this kind of stuff, I’m about to graduate!”

“I know. You know I fully support the life you chose as a doctor and I did my best to separate this lifestyle from you. But now you’re involved. People know your name, your face, where you work, and it’s my fault and there’s nothing I can do about it other than to give you what you need to protect yourself. I can’t let you walk around defenseless. Can you do this for me?”

You hated that he was right. If you were to walk away, he’d probably have Jisung and a bunch of his other men escort you everywhere you go and that’s the last thing you want. Reluctantly, you took the pistol from your Dad’s hands and he couldn’t look any prouder. You know the doljabi test that babies take when they turn one? The one with a pencil, some money, a sports-related thing, and various other objects that predicted the fate of your future? You’re almost positive your Dad snuck in a gun or a knife in there somewhere and your dumb ass took it so now fate was playing games with you and here you were with a heavy pistol in your hands.

“Jisung’s going to drive you to the shooting range and then to the gym for self defense. Sound good?”

“Do I even have a choice?”

“You know I love you, right? Do this for me if you love me, too.”

“... Ok. Love you, too, Dad.”

He held you tightly one last time before you left with Hitman slash bodyguard slash self-defense trainer Jisung. He was silent for a bit thinking that saying anything would ruin the sentimental moment you were cherishing, but by the way you eyed the new toy in your hands, he figured he had to distract you somehow.

“Some couples have matching clothes, but you and I have matching pistols,” he teased, lifting his shirt to reveal the same one on his holster.

“Tch, couple. As if.”

“What, you don’t think we’d make a cute couple? The waitress at the diner thought so.”

“A Hitman and his boss’s daughter. Sounds like a drama.”

“I’d watch sixteen hours of it.”

The shooting range was indoors, so the drive didn’t take you out of the city. The inside was all black with the targets that you could barely see at the opposite side of the room. For a place colored black and filled with guns, you thought it’d be scarier, but somehow it was familiar. Jisung led you to the one all the way down at the end.

“Ready to play?” he asked while hanging up the target for you.

“No. I’m terrified, actually.”

“You’ve never shot a gun before?”

“Does it look like I have?”

“Right… Show me how you think you should stand.”

You awkwardly did your best to have your back straight, feet facing towards the target, and aimed your gun straight ahead with your arms straight.

“That’s good if you were just shooting here and not moving, but you’ll be moving a lot. Turn your hips like this.”

Jisung had his hands on your hips before you know it and if this was anyone besides him, you might have blushed a deep red. But simply because this was him, you can’t get over how overused this drama-style flirting situation was. He guided your hips to face slightly to the side and kept your torso facing forward.

“You want your hips to face the side so you can quickly turn around and shoot someone from behind if you need to. Does that make sense?”

His fingertips creeped under your shirt on accident and touched your skin. You felt the goosebumps travel through your arms. “Y-Yup!”

“Ok then. Lift up your arms.” His hands made sure your elbows were bent and shoulders steady before returning to ghost the skin of your waist. “Ready, aim, shoot.”

You pulled the trigger and the bullet totally missed.

The breath of Jisung’s hyena laugh tickled your ear and you couldn’t help but laugh, too. You hit him in the chest with your free hand.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“I can’t help it! You were totally off!”

“Ugh, ok let me try again.”

Again and again you readied, aimed, and fired and the closest you got to a good shot was the shoulder. Your playlist the entire time was a grown man’s giggle.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re shooting. Like the personification of ‘pew pew’.”

“If we were to leave this facility and get into a shoot out, I would not survive, so can you please shut up and help me!?”

“Ok ok! Maybe it’ll be easier if you square out your hips like this.” Mr. Professional Hitman applied more pressure to his grip on your hips and evened out the spacing of your feet and the angle of your hips.

“Does that feel better?” he whispered.

Whoa, your heart was beating fast. “U-Uh, I-I guess…”

“Ok. Try one more time and we can try again some other day.”

You would rather die than try again some other day, so you focused all of whatever energy you had left into this one final shot. You pulled the trigger and the bullet whizzed through the target’s chest slightly to its left.

Jisung whistled, impressed that you caught on. “Right through the heart, baby.”

“Fuck yeah, finally.”

“I guess that’ll do for now. Ready for self-defense training?”

“Now? Like, right now?”

“It’s now or never. C’mon, the gym’s close by.”

Actually, the gym was right across the street. Jisung told you to go to the room that was under your Dad’s name and that he’d meet you after he was done changing into his own gym clothes. The room in your name had the floors covered in gross gym mats and all of the walls were mirrors. It reminded you of a boxing gym, but without all of the equipment. It was kind of creepy.

The door opened to reveal Jisung in sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt - completely different than his normal black jeans and leather jacket get-up. This time you could clearly see his biceps and deltoids and you had to force yourself to look away before he caught you. It was too late. You were never going to hear the end if this.

“Like what you see, Princess?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your high-pitched voice gave you away. “I understand the gun training, but do I really need self-defense training? Do you really think I could defend myself against some huge dude?”

“I highly doubt that you can, but that’s why I’m going to show you some basic tips and tricks. Ready?”

“No.”

“That’s the spirit. So tell me this, Princess. If I’m walking up to you with my hands grabbing your arms so you don’t hit back, what will you do?”

Jisung did just as he described and took hold of both of your wrists so tightly that it was hard to believe he was playing with you. “I’d kick you in your nuts,” you said, fake-kneeing him and making him flinch.

“Ah, careful! Good, that was the right answer. What if I have my hands on your neck and try to cut off your circulation?”

His hand found his way to your neck. Rather than thinking of the right answer, you were thinking of something slightly less appropriate. Only slightly… should this be feeling good?

“_____ ~” Jisung teased. “What’s your answer?”

Oh, right. “U-Uh, aim for your eyes.”

“Good girl.”

You couldn’t recall how long you and Jisung were practicing, but you’re sure you had bruises on weird places of your body right now because for questions that you couldn’t answer, Bad Ass Hitman made you the offender and he’d play a little too roughly with you so you knew what to do in that scenario. Somewhere near the end, you’re sweaty, tired, frustrated, and ready to go home.

“Jisung, I’m tired,” you whined.

“I know, but we have to keep going for a little longer. I have to go through everything on the list Mr. _____ gave me.”

“Can’t we do that another time? I need food, I need a shower, and I need sleep before work tomorrow.”

“We can’t fall short on this, _____. You and I got lucky that no one touched you at the diner. But what am I to do if I’m not with you and someone takes you away, hm? Your Dad will be devastated! And I’ll never forgive myself for not taking the time to help you defend yourself.”

“I can defend myself! I’m not totally helpless you know! I answered most of those questions right, didn’t I? I don’t need you to babysit me all the time just because my Dad told you to. You don’t have to act like you care, in fact you didn’t have to do anything involving me ever. Just lie to my Dad and say you did and hell, I’ll even be your alibi, but stop acting like you care about me when really you’re just looking for my Dad’s approval and that approval is gone the second you step away from me, right?”

The air was tense. Then Jisung walked up to you, swept his feet from under you so you’d fall on your ass, and towered over you. His legs were on both sides of your hips so you couldn’t move your legs and his hands were occupied with pinning your arms to the mat. Everything happened in less than a second and it took you a couple more to adjust your eyes and realize what happened. You focused on Jisung’s face. His lips are pursed, brows furrowed, and overall he looked hurt.

“If I’m the enemy trying to take you away from me and I have you in a hold like this, how are you going to escape?”

Take you away from him?

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t because what he thought about you all along was right - you were just the weak, defenseless, stuck up daughter of his boss. You felt like crying, but that would only further confirm his speculations, so you held it in.

But that’s not what he thought about you at all. You may be this little Princess he’s looking out for, but if anything were to happen to you, he wouldn’t know what to do. He’d probably go on some rampage, thinking irrationally and only doing what he could to get to you or find you or whatever these other mobsters wanted with you. He couldn’t let anything happen to you. He wouldn’t. He didn’t know what to do with this effect you had on him, but it was his fault for deciding to roll with it.

It’s been a minute since Jisung asked you the question. Since that time has passed, you noticed his face softened and you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was hurt - you said right to his face that you thought he didn’t genuinely care about it you at all. He couldn’t blame you, because you were right - this all started out because he was protecting you the way your Dad had ordered him to. But wasn’t it more than that by now?

You’re still pinned down and even when both of you realized it, neither of you moved from your positions. Instead, as if from the pull of the Earth’s core, Jisung leaned down almost too slowly. So slowly that you even bothered to strain your neck and meet his lips halfway.

His hands tightened their grip on your wrists like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips were soft, and they were sweet like cherry-flavored candy. You tasted sweet, too, but more like honey. He could kiss you for hours. He should have done this earlier.

Your ringtone echoed through the room.

“Phone!” you yelped in a panic, crawling out from under Jisung. Your fingers were all twitchy and had a hard finding your phone in your bag. “H-Hi, Dr. San?”

Jisung involuntarily chewed on the inside of his cheek when he heard that name coming from your lips.

“Right now? Can you give me an hour? Ok, thank you, I’ll be there soon.” When you turned back to look at Jisung, he was already packing his gym bag. “I got called into work.”

“Ok,” he said briefly. He sounded annoyed.

Again, the car ride was silent and awkward. Jisung had been good about driving safely while you were with him, but today he went back to his old ways, like the very first time he drove you to the hospital. You looked at him and was going to ask what was up, but he looked angry. Did he regret what just happened in the gym…?

No, it wasn’t that. It was that stupid handsome Dr. San who ruined his one and only perfectly imperfect kiss with you and you jumped at the opportunity to answer the phone and get away. What a childish way reason for him to be bad.

“I… didn’t mean what I said earlier,” you began awkwardly. “I don’t think of you as a babysitter or someone who sucks up to my Dad like that… I’m sorry.”

Jisung sighed. “Then what am I to you?”

You couldn’t answer that.

Even though he was annoyed, Jisung still opened the door for you, but avoided eye contact once you arrived at the hospital. You said your quick goodbyes and he watched you walk in just like every other time just so he knew you were one hundred and ten percent safe inside.

Halfway to the door, you turned around.

“Would you want to go with me to a party next weekend?” you asked quickly like a high school girl asking out her crush.

Jisung did his lovable eyebrow raise. “Go with you? As what, your bodyguard?”

“No. As my date.”

“Whoa, as your date?” You couldn’t tell if he was smirking because he was scoffing and couldn’t believe you would ask him such a stupid question or because you sent his ego into space again. You hoped for the latter. “Why don’t you ask your precious Dr. San?”

“I kind of don’t want to go with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I kind of want to go with you more.”

He bit his lip and you couldn’t help but think about kissing him again. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“So…?”

“I’ll go.”

He swore your smile lit up the night sky brighter than the moon. “Pick me up after work?”

“Anything for you, _____.”

You talked about kissing Jisung to Somi your entire shift.

The next time he kissed you was ten hours later after the overnight shift.

“Kiss me,” he demanded when he dropped you home. Your back was pressed against the door as he towered over you.

“Seriously?” you blushed.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“What’s the magic word ~?”

“Kiss me now?”

You were looking for please, but that was close enough, right? From then on, kissing was normal. Almost too normal, like you couldn’t keep your lips away from each other.

From the weekend you kissed him to the weekend of the party, you and Jisung hung out everyday all day. Sometimes it was training as your Dad’s Hitman and his precious Princess, but it was mostly as two people who liked each other. The other stuff was arbitrary. For once, you guys did normal things together, like cooking, shopping, playing games, and your favorite - kissing.

The hospital faculty party was going to be the first ‘date’ together publicly as a couple. Jisung always thought the firsts for anything were awkward, but not this - not with you. He was surprised to find out that everything with you happened naturally.

“Whoa…” was what Jisung said when he picked you up for the party. He knew the attire was formal, but never in his time of knowing you did he think he’s see you in something that made you shine like the stars. You were going to make everyone in the room turn their heads.

“Whoa yourself, even if you are in all black. Again.”

“I’m sexy though, right?”

“Very.”

The party wasn’t some adult house party or at a dinky banquet hall. No, this one was at the most expensive hotel in the city in the biggest ballroom. Decorated with jewel tones and gold accents, this party was the most extravagant party you and Jisung had ever attended. Everyone can thank your Dad for booking it. Anyone who was anyone was at this party and you wondered who was keeping it down at the hospital, but that wasn’t your problem tonight.

You spotted your group of friends over by the bar and where there was most traffic for the hors d'oeuvres. Typical. You took your hot date by the hand and walked over, finally getting the chance to introduce him to them, especially Somi.

“_____! Is this who I think it is!?” she gasped loudly.

“Guys, this is Jisung. Jisung, these are my co-workers.”

“Is that really all I am to you?” Somi and a couple of others fake-cried.

“Shut up.”

While Jisung was distracted with the food, Somi leaned in to whisper to you. “Hey, don’t look now, but Dr. San is staring.”

“Really?”

If Somi told you this months ago, you would have been all over that. But now you were just genuinely curious as to why. When you looked back, it was certainly true that he was staring, but he had his hot date right next to him, so why did it matter? Something was off.

“Jealous?” Jisung teased.

“Only that you have food. Sharing is caring.”

“No way, get your own!”

You disregarded Dr. San’s stares for the rest of the night. Your attention and affection were for Jisung and Jisung only. Whether it was his arm around your waist or your hands playing with his, there was always some sort of skinship shared between you two and you neither of you wanted to separate any time soon. So he took the initiative to pull you to the dance floor.

“Does my Dad’s Hitman know how to dance?”

“Of course! There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, baby.”

“I’ll know all of them eventually.”

“Ok, bet.”

The songs changed from upbeat bops, to goofy bops, then finally ended with the slow and sexy songs allowing Jisung to hold you close like he always wanted to. He’s done so behind closed doors a few times already, but this was different. He got to show you off to the whole world. To your friends, to strangers, and especially to Dr. San.

“Safe to say that I won, right?” Jisung asked, referring to the night that Mingi got stabbed.

“By a landslide.”

“What do I get?”

“Another kiss ~?”

“You know me so well.”

Your man dipped his head down and kissed you with all of the passion he held in every cell of his body. Even during the kiss, you could feel yourself getting light headed and all the blood went to your cheeks.

“Whoa,” you said once he pulled away. “When did you learn how to do THAT?”

“Like I said, there’s a lot of things you don’t know ~”

“I think I need a drink after that.”

His cute laugh rang in your ears. “Ok, I’ll be at our table.”

You got a couple of sodas for you and your date so you could boost your blood sugar back up. While waiting, you overlooked the entire room full of people you worked. Even then, your eyes still found their way to Jisung. He was happily talking to Somi and the rest of the girls probably talking about how you two met. As if knowing you were looking, he returned your gaze and did his cute little wink so he could see you blush again. Well, it worked, because now you were smiling like an idiot and staring at your shoes.

“_____,” Dr. San said, tearing you away from your thoughts.

The handsome man was smiling down at you when you looked up. He was wasn’t with his date at the moment, so it was just you two.

“Dr. San, hi. How are you?” you asked.

“I’m doing well. Yourself?”

“I’m doing very well.”

“Really? I knew there was something different about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re smiling a lot more. Your cheeks are practically glowing. It’s charming.” Cutely, he pinched your cheek.

You didn’t think anything of it, but oh man, did Jisung think otherwise. Now he was angry. It wasn’t your fault, and maybe he shouldn’t even be angry in the first place, but like HELL was he going to let some fucking tacky-ass doctor be friendly with you like that.

“Is someone else making you blush the way I used to?” Dr. San asked.

“I-I guess? You knew about that?”

“Of course. I thought you were cute, too. I could still make you feel that way.”

“Dr. San…?”

He took steps closer to you. “You should be with a real man.”

Just in time, Jisung stepped in between before this creep could touch you again.

“Back off,” Jisung sneered. Uh-oh, this wasn’t going to end well…

“I’m not doing anything,” Dr. San said calmly. “We’re just talking.”

“It doesn’t look that way to me.”

“You’re just a thug. What are you even doing here? She’s too good for you.”

Before Jisung could land a punch on him, you held him by the waist and laid your chin on his shoulder. That stopped him dead in his tracks and he hated how weak he fell when you held him like that.

“Don’t do it,” you whispered. “He’s not worth it. Let’s go home, ok?”

Your Hitman didn’t answer. Rather he took your hand and walked swiftly towards the exit.

“See you Monday, _____ ~” Dr. San sang tauntingly.

“What an asshole… Can’t believe I ever liked that guy.”

When you arrived outside, Jisung let go of your hand and wiped the sweat on his nice dress pants. He walked a few steps ahead of you to take some time to cool off before he talked because he knew if he didn’t, he’d say something wrong and maybe you’d run away. After running a hand through his hair, he turned back around to see you smiling and waiting patiently. It was so hard for him to believe he had you.

“Are you ok?” you asked.

“Yeah… Sorry, I don’t know what got into me. Just seeing him with you like that… It really got under my skin.”

“You must like me, huh?”

“Nah, that can’t be it…”

“Hey!”

“You know I’m kidding,” he said, his hands finding their way back to your waist. “I like you. A lot. Almost too much.”

“There’s no such thing as too much.”

Your annoying ringtone yet again ruined the moment between you and your man. Normally, you had your phone on silent, but you only let it ring when important people like your Dad, Jisung, and Dr. San were texting you. You checked and saw it was a message from Dr. San.

He sent you a picture of your Dad in a room with no windows tied up to a chair and beaten bloody with only “₩10B by 3AM” and an unknown address written.

“J-Ji-Jisung…” you stuttered. “W-What does this mean…?”

“What’s wrong?” His eyes narrowed at the image on your phone. Now he was furious. He knew there was something wrong with that guy from the get-go. “I’ll call for our crew in the car. Let’s go.”

You and Jisung sprinted to his car in the eerie underground parking lot. What if Dr. San was watching you right now? Watching you run away with a man that wasn’t him. Watching your every move so he knew you were following his demands.

Panic flowed through your entire body and you were finding it hard to breathe evenly. Your Dad was your entire world and now someone - Dr. San, of all people - had him. What were you to do without your rock? The only man who ever believed in you?

“What are we going to do?” you asked once you both were in the car. It sounded like you were crying, but no tears were present.

“We’re going to get your Dad, but it’s going to be messy.”

“But what about the money? I have it, won’t that be easiest?”

“First thing’s first about this line of business is to never trust anyone. Even if we have the money, who knows what they’ll do in that time? We’ll get the money, but we need to be quick and we need to be prepared to fight back, is that clear?” From inside his suit coat, he pulled out his pistol and gave it to you. “Are you ready to show me what you’ve learned?”

“What about you?”

“I have mine,” he said, revealing the one on his belt. “I brought yours just in case because I knew some shit was going to go down. This night sounded too perfect to be true.”

“I-I don’t even know the time…! What if it’s past three already!?”

“It’s 10:25. _____, look at me.” Through your panicked and shifty eyes, you tried to focus on Jisung’s calm and handsome face. It was helpful when he held your hand. “We’re going to find him, but I need you to stay calm, ok? I’ll be right next to you the whole time.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I could never. Are you ready?” When you nodded, Jisung wasted no time and started the car. “Let’s fucking go.”

First thing’s first - go to your Dad’s office and find ₩10B lying around. That shouldn’t be too hard, right? You knew the password to the safe that was embedded in the wall and hidden behind one of the bookshelves. That was probably what Dr. San was looking for.

Dr. San… Who was he in all of this? Was he like your Dad, the leader of the pack? Or was he more like Jisung, the guy who did all of the dirty work? And why would an accomplished doctor like him need a side hustle like this? How did he even have the time!?

Entering the long hallway that led to Dad’s office was scarier at night with the possibilities of an ambush. Ahead of you, Jisung pulled out his pistol, indicating that you should do the same. With shaky and unsteady hands, you followed his lead. Despite the circumstance, dressed in your formal wear holding a gun next to your man made you feel kind of invincible - like you could do anything with Jisung by your side and look good doing it.

The office really looked like it came from hell when you entered. Everything was flipped upside down, all of Dad’s papers were everywhere, the books on his shelves were on the floor, and the cocaine corner was completely empty. Dr. San’s men did major work in such a short amount of time.

“The safe is behind the shelf,” Jisung instructed. “I’ll watch your back while you open it.”

“You know about that safe? And know that I know the code?”

“Mr. _____ trusted me almost too much.”

The safe combination was rotated between yours and your Dad’s social security number and you had to get it right in three tries or else you were locked out for twenty-four hours. This time it was yours. You’ve never opened it before or even knew what was in it, so when you opened it both you and Jisung could not believe how much money was stashed.

“So this is where my paycheck comes from.” Jisung handed you one of the many black duffle bags your Dad owned. “Start counting, babe.”

Even with ₩10B in the bag, there’s barely a dent in the safe. You both knew your Dad was filthy rich, but this safe was downright NASTY. When you save Dad from this whole mess, you’ll convince him to never do this drug stuff ever again. He could live luxuriously and then some with just half of what was in the safe.

The next step was to go to the unknown address. Jisung couldn’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. You must have been scared, furious, worried, or all of the above. With one hand on the wheel, he reached over to hold on to yours and there’s a wave of relieve that washed over you. It didn’t last long when the GPS lead you to an empty warehouse under a bridge with only your men’s cars filling up the property. The second they saw Jisung’s car, they all came out. Did Dad really have this many men in his army? You don’t even think you’ve seen some of these men before.

“Miss _____,” the leader of the pack greeted politely. “What’s the move?”

“I-I don’t know… Why are you asking me?”

“You’re next in charge, aren’t you?”

“Uh… Jisung, help?” you nudged.

“We’re going to go in there, give them the money, and demand Mr. _____ back. Be prepared if they disagree or things get heated. There are two number one priorities here - bring back Mr. _____ alive and keep _____ safe. Is that clear?” All the men nodded obediently. “Go!”

A couple of the men broke down the door. Instead of the building being an intricate maze of hallways and arbitrary rooms, it was just one big, empty gray space and your Dad was tied to a chair right in the middle of it, not moving.

“Dad!” you cried out, running past all of the loyal men.

“_____, get back here!”

Jisung couldn’t let you run alone in such an open room with potential shooters hiding God knows where, so he ran after you and kept an eye out for all hidden corners and crevices. The tears you kept hidden these last few hours all flowed freely the closer you ran to him. It felt like you were running a marathon on the longest treadmill. The closer you got, the more you could see the fresh blood oozing out of his body and when you reached him, you knew why he wasn’t moving.

He was already shot dead.

“Dad?” you whimpered, shaking him by his cold, limp shoulders. “Come on, wake up…! I’m here!”

“_____, it’s a trap,” Jisung warned. “We have to go -!”

“No, not without my Dad -!”

“_____, look at me.”

Jisung tore you away from trying to untie your dead Dad and held you by your face. Your crying and sobbing echoed so loudly throughout the room. It broke his heart to see you this way. He hoped to never see you like this ever again.

“We have to go. It’s not safe for you here. My priority is to keep you safe, remember?”

“But Dad -!”

“I know, baby, I know. You know what we’re going to do?” You shook your head. “You’re going to take over your Dad’s spot. You are going to rule this Kingdom and we’re going to get our revenge.”

“Revenge?” Revenge sounded good.

“Yup. You’re going to sit in your Dad’s office and run that shit like nothing happened, right? You’re going to keep this business running. And we’re going to find Dr. San and find all the other men responsible then we’re going to get our revenge. And I’m going to be right beside you the whole time, ok? Do you trust me?”

You could only nod. His plan sounded perfect.

“If you want to do this, we have to get out of here. Now.”

You let Jisung take the lead by helping you up. He dropped the bag of money next to your bleeding Dad, took you by the hand, and ran. There’s no shooting to be heard, no other footsteps, hell you couldn’t even hear any breathing. Was anyone even here? Why the fuck did they even bother if they already killed your father!?

“Grab the body and take it to get prepped for a memorial. Watch out for snipers,” Jisung warned.

The rest of the men stayed back when you and Jisung left to get you safe inside the car.

“Why did you leave the money? Dad was already shot,” you asked.

“Dr. San or whomever he works for only wanted the money. They didn’t care about negotiating. They have that place bugged. If we didn’t leave it, something bad was going to happen to you. I’ll throw away ₩10B any day as long as you’re left untouched.”

“Dr. San… no wonder he tried to get closer to me. Not too obvious, but not too subtle, either. He knew a lot about my relationship with Dad, too.”

“Like what?”

“I told him I chose med school because I didn’t want to take over Dad’s business. He knew if they killed my Dad, the company’s Drug Pushing days would be over. God, I’m such an idiot!”

“Hey, that’s not your fault. You had no idea some tacky doctor could be involved in this life.”

“Yeah, and now I’m going to be. I’ll be doing exactly what I never wanted in the first place. But this is for Dad. I have to do this, right?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“You’re right. Now I want to.”

“_____-”

“It’s ok. This is for Dad - I can do this. I-I think… You said you’d be there with me, right?”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Princess.”

“Good... Where are we going now?”

“To your home. You need rest, you had a long day. Then tomorrow, we’ll clean up your new office, and I’ll show you the ups and downs of this God-forsaken business.”

“I’m both terrified and excited.”

“Maybe you were meant for this job all along.”

“Dad used to say shit like that, too. Maybe you’re both right...”

Your heart was incredibly heavy when you arrived home. You needed your bed to hold all of the weight of your sorrow. Seeing your Dad dead and tied up like a pot roast was one kind heartbreak, but realizing he was gone forever was another. You couldn’t be alone tonight.

“Don’t leave me,” you begged Jisung.

“Do you want me to stay tonight?”

“And tomorrow... Maybe for the whole week... And then some...”

His light chuckle rang in your ear and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Anything for you.”

EPILOGUE

Life is simple. Life is spent calmly after your Dad’s memorial and taking over the Soju business and cocaine side hustle. It took you a while to adjust from med student life to business student life, but you’re thankful for Jisung who helped you with the transition and studying every step of the way. It wasn’t as bad as you thought - then again, business students don’t have overnight shifts.

Being the CEO meant you knew the recipe of the Soju and who to pay in whatever amount. You were more like the overseer. As time passes, you’ll learn the rest of the ins and outs on the go, so you’re not as worried.

Besides, you have your hands full with cocaine, among other things.

“_____?” Jisung opens the door to your office with a triumphant smirk on his lips. “Dr. San’s ready to see you.”

“Thanks, love,” you said. You take your shiny pistol out from your holster. “Can’t wait to see him.”

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