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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Injury

Characters: Albedo, Childe, Diluc, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,657

Warnings: Blood, injury, slight violence, minor villain death

Premise: Sometimes the pain of others can hurt even more than one’s own. In which the reader is injured.

Author’s Note: Week 3 of keeping up my writing schedule let’s go! This week is a bit angsty, my forte (I think?) As usual part one – with Albedo, Childe, and Diluc – will be posted tonight and part two – Kaeya, Xiao and Zhongli – tomorrow.

At first this was going to be both your injury and your recovery but then the first character hit over 1.5k words so I guess this is going to be a pseudo-series. I really don’t know the definition of concise lol.

In the first part of my last fic I realize I gendered a word. I’m super sorry about that, and I promise to fix it and tag properly next time. Childe gets to go into the stone forest cause I say he can. I’m not sure if waypoints are diegetic or nondiegetic. I decided to make them so. Also the first hospital in China was opened in the early 1800s, and I know hospitals aren’t very “fantasy” but Teyvat has good medical science in my book.

Albedo

Throughout his life the one thing that Albedo never truly understood was peoples’ obsession with modesty, even when it was false.

There was a lot that Albedo was proud of in regards to himself; his intellect for one, his curiosity, his abilities as an alchemist, the fact that he feared little in the world. Above all perhaps was the pride he held in carrying himself without falling into hysteria, his grip on his emotions was impeccable and whenever he was unfortunate enough to see others gripped with a heavy emotion he was always left with a sour feeling in his mouth – a disgust for someone who had so little sense they couldn’t even control themselves.

This was a pride that left him quickly enough upon seeing you injured.

It wasn’t meant to be a dangerous expedition. It’d merely been a check of the vast network of caves and tunnels that could be found in Dragonspine. A route affair, mundane even in how simple it supposedly was. There was nothing to be afraid of. Albedo had told you that back at home and you’d smiled in agreement. Yes, there was nothing to be worried of, a few hilichurls at most and a temperature that could be easily kept in check with the right preparation. You’d be there and back in less than a day, no problem.

Everything, however, had gone horribly wrong. The cave that you two intended to explore turned out to be a vast network, full of tight tunnels and half submerged under freezing water. You two had managed that well enough, although once Albedo had almost slipped and fallen into the underground river, the whole outlook of the expedition was looking drearier and drearier.

Eventually you’d reached what had seemed to be the heart of the cave, floor after floor of ice with a hole in the middle, all lit up by crystal and scarlet quartz. It was an impressive sight to be sure and you’d stood a little ways away from the edge, observing the way the light refracted off the ice coated walls, waiting for Albedo to be finished with his sampling, enjoying the awesome sight in front of you.

Albedo had just finished when you’d let out a yelp. Whirling around he saw what had captured your attention – a wild snowboar who’d managed to wander in. The two of you watched the very confused creature in awe, only staring as it stomped the ground and charged right into the wall.

That was a mistake.

All of the sudden the cavern started shaking violently. Cursing the boar for its terrible – or maybe impeccable – aim the two of you sprinted towards the exit. You’d managed to gain the lead, not bogged down by Albedo’s extensive equipment, and had turned around near the beginning of the tunnel in order to help him. Just as you were heading back one of the many icicles that lined the roof of the cave came undone, landing with a sickening thud right where your collarbone met your spine.

You’d dropped like a rock, and Albedo felt his stomach to turn water and his mind turn to static, as suddenly all logic seemed to leave him, instead replaced by dread so overpowering he seemed to lose track of his surroundings, chained to the ground by something greater than himself.

You groaned and time seemed to unfreeze itself, instead accelerating at a breakneck pace. Leaping into action Albedo immediately dropped all of his equipment, the sound of glass vials shattering muffled by the cases that held them and the panic that was gripping him. Hauling you over his back he ran through the tunnels, wincing every time you made a sound and biting his tongue every time he shimmied through a particularly tight spot and it seemed it might not let the two of you pass as you were.

He could feel the blood seeping through his gloves. Your blood. Only a few minutes ago he wasn’t even sure that icicles could make one bleed. Now he wished he’d never found out, wished that he’d never asked to explore the caves of Dragonspine, wished that you’d never agreed to it. How could he have been so foolish, so blind to the dangers that waited in vast caverns of ice and snow, where the slightest wrong movement could spell your death.

Albedo could’ve cried when he sighted the camp. Indeed he might’ve, realizing that there were frozen tears on his cheeks only after you’d been taking to the medical tent. He hadn’t noticed, hadn’t noticed anything really in those terrifying moments between when you’d gotten hurt and when he’d made it to the camp. It all seemed not to exist in his mind, washed away by the emotions that had wracked his mind and body. Even now he couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the tide of emotions that was crashing into him like a wave, utterly helpless as he was thrown this way and that.

The pride that he’d clung to was in tatters, and Albedo looked upon it now in disgust. He’d been so innocent, so foolish, perhaps mercifully so. But all that was gone, and his certainty had gone with it. There was nothing left of him almost; nothing except fear and anger and worry, and Albedo wondered when he might ever feel sure of everything again.

It was cloudy when you were released, arm in a sling, brace around your shoulders. Albedo wasn’t sure how much time had passed, it had seemed like an eternity. The urge to run up to you and wrap you in the tightest hug imaginable was intense, but the sight of the brace held him back. Instead he brought you hand up to his face, kissing your palm before holding it against his cheek. You smiled at that, but there was fatigue in your eyes and you said nothing. Albedo couldn’t blame you. He moved to let go and turn towards the path, somehow feeling unworthy of holding your hand after being the cause of your predicament, but you quickly grasped his hand once more. He smiled a slightly shocked smile, but made no move to let go.

As you two walked back to Mondstadt Albedo felt himself once more flooded by negative thoughts. Lowering his gaze so he was looking at the ground he paused for a moment.

“I’m sorry.”

Albedo found his voice cracking, tears welling his eyes even as he chastised himself for how stupid he must’ve looked. You were safe, you were going to be alright, the head of the clinic had said so himself. Why then did he still feel like he might crumble any minute? Shaking his head he moved to cover his face with his hand.

“Hey.” There was still fatigue in your voice, but there was also an urgency in it. You squeezed the hand you were holding, moving so you were facing him. “Hey, is it okay if you look at me?”

Albedo moved his head up slowly. He was truly crying by now, having given up all efforts to do so otherwise. You smiled softly as his eyes met yours.

“I’m alright, okay? And you shouldn’t blame yourself for this. I doubt that even the drunkest man in Monstadt could’ve guessed a wild boar would wander in a cavern and start a cave in. You can’t control fate you know.”

“I know.” Albedo forced the words out, although more and more it seemed impossible, his throat was too constricted to be anything more than barely coherent. “Still. I should’ve known. And I should’ve kept it together. I, why am I crying? Why wasn’t I in control? Why, why am I still not in control?”

“Because you’re human Albedo.” You replied, shaking your head slightly. “You’re the most wonderful human alive, but you’re still human. You mustn’t beat yourself up for what you are. I’d rather you cry anyways. There’s nothing noble in hiding your emotions, they must come out one way or another. So please, please cry all you want, long and hard. And tomorrow you can start your penance, alright?”

“Penance?” Albedo mumbled, still crying. You nodded, smile still nothing but fondness and understanding.

“Well someone’s going to have to help me for the next two months. And I know you’re too much a gentleman to make me stumble along myself.”

“Of course.” Albedo’s answer came fast and sure. He paused then, realizing that, by distracting him with the weeks to come, you’d managed to give him a pocket of time to calm himself, to feel himself once more firmly planted on the ground. Love mixed with anger and sadness in his mind, and for a moment he could only marvel at you.

Albedo leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. He’d do whatever he could to help you, this he promised himself. And this too he promised himself; you’d never ever be hurt on his watch again.

Childe

If there was anything that Childe hated it was a lack of control. The feeling of everything slipping through his fingers was something he’d felt often as a child, and that feeling had haunted him. When he’d signed up as a member of the Fatui he’d promised himself that he’d never feel that way again. He’d protect those he loved and he’d keep his life from falling apart. It was a promise he was determined to keep, no matter what.

You two had decided to go hiking. Or rather it was less of a hike and more of a rock climb. Childe had long bragged that the Huaguang Stone Forest was the most beautiful place to watch the sunset, and you’d finally gotten a free weekend. Waypointing your way there initially, your partner had taken an almost childlike joy from choosing which mountain was the highest.

“Childe have you decided yet? The sun is almost at the horizon.” You called out at the Harbinger. Childe was, much to your dismay, the stronger climber, and had taken to scouting ahead of time to see if the spot you were climbing to was any good. Now he glanced down at you, mischief written all over his face, his smirk flashier than usual. He put his hand on his chin and looked outward once more.

“Hmm… I don’t know…”

“Childe!” You exclaimed, your arms slightly killing you. You really wish that you’d convinced Childe to bring a roped and belay. Unfortunately that request had been met with a whine and an accusation of “that’s cheating!” You’d laughed it off at the time, but now you were starting to regret your partner’s recklessness. As much as you were enjoying your time – being alone with Childe always felt intensely special and you cherished every moment of it – you were also impatient to actually watch the sunset, and in your hurry you wondered if it might not be faster to climb back down and watch from the bridge.

“I do believe that we’ve found the tallest one!”

“Thank the Seven.” You groaned, hurrying to get to the top. Childe chuckled, watching you scale up the mountain.

“Oh come now, I had to make sure it was perfect! Besides you looked so comfortable perched there, it almost hurt to disrupt you.”

“When I get up there I’m killing you.” You shot back, reaching towards the ledge. Still laughing Childe stuck out his hand and you moved to grab it, pushing off with your feet as much as possible, determined to make it up the mountain in the next move.

The laughter died from Childe’s lips the moment your hand missed. Instead it was replaced by fear, cold and sharp as a knife, plunging straight through his heart. Time seemed to slow down, but you were falling so fast, falling, falling, falling. Catapulting himself off the top of the mountain Childe reached out for you. In his mind he was screaming. Glide. Oh please, for the love of the Seven glide. Please, don’t fall, it’s so high up. I couldn’t bear it. Please.

Still the words were stuck in his mouth, and his throat only constricted more when you hit the bridge with a sickening thud. Releasing his own wings at the last moment he landed on the bridge too, only a few meters away from where you were now crumpled up. Running over he scooped you up. You’d managed to right yourself at the last moment in the air so that you were landing feet first, but though you’d managed to protect your head your legs dragged limply, and one was bent at an awkward angle. Looking at your mangled form, listening to you as you screamed and whimpered in pain, Child felt overwhelmed by his vast helplessness. There was nothing he could do. Burying his head in your neck he sobbed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

The journey to Liyue was excruciating, both for you and for Childe. Although there was no external bleeding the initial adrenaline of falling had no worn off and you felt every jolt and movement as Childe slung you on his back, wrapping his arms around your thighs and carrying you to the nearest waypoint and then to the Liyue doctor. Even when Childe was standing still you thought you might die from the sheer pain. So intense it was that sometimes you gave up, blacking out only to wake up feeling like you were drowning, the burning air around you almost too hot and too heavy to breathe.

Childe willed himself to numbness throughout the journey, only allowing him to collapse once you’d reached the hospital, practically ramming into the nearest chair in the waiting room, the situation washing over him.

How could he have let this happen? Hadn’t he made a promise? A promise that he’d protect those he’d love, that he’d never lose control of a situation again, that he’d never let those he cared about suffer? Where was that promise now? His whole world seemed to collapse in on itself now. He hadn’t been able to protect you. Despite his training, his reflexes, his vision, his everything. You’d still fallen. And as powerful as Childe liked to think he was, he still couldn’t turn back time and stop your suffering.

Finally the doctor opened the door and Childe was let in to see you. After informing him that you were on painkillers the doctor left you two alone. Faced with you laying on the hospital bed Childe sank into the nearest chair. Lacing his fingers through yours he drew circles on your hand over and over. For a moment you two said nothing, then Childe let his head rest on your hands. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, voice raw.

“I know.” You replied, mind a bit hazy from the painkillers, the magic infused herbs luring you to sleep. Still you pushed forward, needing to say something before Childe let himself be carried away. “I know, but it’s not your fault. And it’s not irreversible. The doctor says in 8 weeks I’ll be fine. Until then, we’ll just have to improvise.”

“But what about your adventuring? Your commissions? How can you do those if you can’t –”

“I’ll figure it out. Adventuring isn’t just monster slaying you know. And there’s no catastrophe in being in a wheelchair or on crutches.” You shook your head. Childe was still crying, and you could feel his tears running down your linked hands.

“Ajax.” Childe’s head shot up, surprised. He loved when you called him by his true name, it always seemed like a song falling from your lips. And now that song was filled with understanding, if not a bit of sadness. “I want you to not blame yourself.” You continued. “I know it’ll be hard, I know that these feelings won’t go away. And I’m not blaming you for them. I’m not happy about this either, of course I’m not, I just went through a world of pain. But I won’t be able to stand watching you beat yourself up for 8 weeks, I won’t be able to stand that look in your eyes every time you look at me. So please, please stop. If not for yourself then for me.”

Childe stared at your for a while. You waited, not wanting to rush his thought process. Eventually though he shook his head, a small smile finally breaking his expression.

“You’re too good for me you know. Alright. I promise to try. It’s the least I could do.”

“Thank you.” You smiled. Childe smiled back. He didn’t know how you managed to do it, how you managed to take his fears and look them in the face. All he knew at that moment was that he loved you. And for now, that was enough.

Diluc

Diluc stared in horror as the Fatui Bracer aimed a Geo projectile right at you, his horror multiplying into rage and terror as the concentrated energy flew through the air and landed right at the base of your ribcage. You crumpled at the impact, wheezing heavily, apparently stunned from the power and speed of the attack.

How could this have happened? Diluc knew that the Fatui were gathering in Mondstadt, something that the winery owner turned Darknight Hero couldn’t stand. But never did he think to see Fatui skirmishers right outside the walls of Monstadt, strolling along the beach of Cider Lake as if it were Snezhnaya. Never did he think he’d have to see another loved one felled by a member of the Fatui, and never did he think that he could bear the emotions coursing through him now.

He made quick work of the Bracer, hacking and swinging without rhyme or reason, barely able to comprehend what was going on. Everything felt oddly separated from him, as if he were watching through someone else’s eyes, watching as he burned through the Bracer’s shields as easily as if it were made of wax, leaving the man groaning and screaming in pain before silencing him altogether.

The feeling of separation only grew more powerful as he ran over to you. You seemed to be conscious, but your breathing was shallow and ragged, and the place where the Fatui’s attack had hit seemed mangled, one of your ribs having seemingly been broken. You were screaming, though it was hoarse and low and tired. Still if you were screaming you were alive, and at least Diluc could hold onto that.

Carrying you in his arms Diluc winced as you let out another shriek of pain. You two weren’t far from the gates of Monstadt, but every step seemed to be a thousand steps and what was surely only a few hundred meters instead felt like tens of thousands of miles.

You were going to be alright. At least the doctor had said you were going to be alright. Surely Diluc could be grateful for that? But he didn’t feel grateful, instead he felt anger and hatred welling up inside of him. He’d told himself it was no good to be an angry or hateful person, that doing so would only push you away, would only destroy the fragile bonds he’d managed to build between you and a selection of others. But still the anger and the hatred lingered, refusing to be quelled or stuffed away.

He wanted revenge. Revenge on the Fatui, on the Tsaritsa, on the uncaring world that let him be so tormented, and that so tormented the ones he loved. How could this have happened to you? You who were made of goodness, more goodness than he’d found in the world beforehand. How was this a fitting reward?

It was decided that you could stay at the Winery during the 6 grueling weeks that was to be your convalescence. Diluc said nothing on the way there. He was afraid what would happened if he opened his mouth. Already he knew his face was betraying the feelings welling within him. He didn’t need to make it worse, not now.

Arriving at the Winery Diluc carried you to his room, the nicest room there was. Up to this point you’d said nothing, and Diluc wondered if you weren’t too groggy to do so. However when you spoke up there was an urgency in your voice, one he simply couldn’t ignore.

“You’re angry. You’re trying to hide it but I know it.”

“I’m not the one in pain right now.” Came a curt reply. Diluc was looking at you with what others might’ve mistaken as a glare. Perhaps it was even that, but there was something beneath it, and you knew it ultimately wasn’t directed at you.

“I am. And I’m upset too. But I’ve accepted it. You need to accept that you’re angry too. Burying it won’t help, it’ll only make it worse you know. You have to acknowledge your emotions. You don’t have to hide them. At least not in front of me.”

The expression on Diluc’s face finally broke. The anger there was raw and palapable, but there was also something else, something he’d also buried.

“I was… terrified.” Diluc finally let out. “I was so terrified it frightened me. I… I thought I was going to lose you.”

“And you shouldn’t have to hide that either.” You prodded softly. “But I’ll be alright, I promise. So please, just be open with me and then we’ll go from there.”

Diluc nodded, finding himself unable to speak. Walking over to where you were laying down he peppered kisses all over your face, light and ethereal as butterflies.

He’d do right by you. That’s what he promised himself, after all the hiding and the pain. He’d do right by you. But he’d also not forgive the Fatui for what they’d done, and tonight when Monstadt was asleep the Darknight would be watching. And for any Snezhnayan roaming the streets and lurking in the shadows, there’d be no forgiveness.

#this is being posted later in the night than wanted so sorry about the typos #I'll reedit tomrrow morning I promise!#okay wow my computer almost crashed right now okay #albedo #childe #diluc #albedo x reader #childe x reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #scenarios #my writing

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

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Damsels, Chapter Ten: Last Day

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read previous chapters here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

Adult Content Immediately after the jump

He sits there stunned, his heart pounding in his cock, which is so hard it actually hurts. He looks to the open curtain Scully just disappeared through, considering the possibility that he just hallucinated all of that. Looking at his lap, he sees that the fly of his jeans is damp, lower than it would be were that his own precum seeping through. A new wave of desire overtakes him realizing that it’s her, her wetness on him. How wet would she have had to be for it to soak through her underwear and get on his pants? He runs his hands over his face, trying to locate reality.

“You about done in there?” the hulking man who’d been keeping watch over them asks. He wonders what Scully had said to him to make that possible. “Excuse me, would you please look the other way so I might dry hump my coworker in private?”

He stands, wondering if it will be more obvious if he tries to hide his erection rather than just pretend it’s not there. He goes with option B and scans the room for her as he makes his way to the main entrance, not surprised that she isn’t working the floor; she may need a minute after that herself. He’s intending to go out to his car, but changes course at the last moment and pushes his way into the men’s room instead. It’s surprisingly clean and unoccupied, so he steps into a stall and latches the door closed. He unzips quickly, freeing his turgid hard-on and beginning to stroke, one hand braced against the wall. It doesn’t take much; ten or twelve pumps and he’s spurting into the toilet, stifling his cries into his upper arm. He flushes and washes his hands, avoiding eye contact with the man who enters the stall he just finished defiling, then exits the club.

He sits in his car in the parking lot, inhaling sunflower seeds as his leg bounces nervously. He’s been watching the rear doors of the club for hours, waiting for her to get off work, but it’s after 3 am and he hasn’t seen her yet. As the last light in the club extinguishes, he slams his hands against the steering wheel in frustration. Against his better judgment, he checks into a motel.

*******************************************************

When she wakes it’s just after 9 am, which feels like a wonderfully normal time to be waking up. If not for her location, she might have been able to forget, for a moment, that she’s on a case. Might have been able to forget that she’s working as a stripper. Might have been able to forget that she kissed Mulder last night. And let him touch her breasts. And lick them. While she straddled him and practically fucked him through his pants. The resulting throb between her legs at the memory doesn’t allow her to forget. She lays there for a long while, wondering what will happen next. Will she return home after the case and act like nothing happened? Will Mulder insist that they talk about it? Maybe she can convince him that it wasn’t her. A Doppelganger. But if she does that, she’ll have to stop hoping that it will happen again. Who knows what they might do with unlimited time and privacy.

Rolling out of bed, she powers up the burner phone while she makes coffee and toast. She even indulges and butters it. Fuck it.

“Agent Wiley.”

“Hello, Agent Wiley, this is Agent Scully.”

“Good morning, Agent Scully, I’m glad you called.”

“Oh? Did you learn something from the files I found?” She sits at the small dining room table with her steaming mug.

“Maybe. Most of the information is so vague, we weren’t able to put names to any of the women who have already left the club, but we did get one possible hit on someone who’s still there. On the file listed as J.H.”

“The woman who’s hiding from her abusive husband? Who works in law enforcement?”

“Yes. There was a missing person’s report filed eight months ago by Officer Jacob Hall in Eerie, PA. His wife Jennifer and three year old daughter Aubrey weren’t home when he returned from his shift one random Wednesday. All of their personal effects were accounted for, including Jennifer’s purse and ID, but no sign of a struggle. It’s like they just vanished.”

“Lexie, the woman I thought may be J.H., said her real name was Leanne.”

“I’m sure it’s an alias. Can’t be too careful.”

“Do you have a description of her, identifying marks?”

“Yeah, one second,” Scully hears the flutter of shuffling papers, “uh, okay, five foot eight, medium build, dark brown hair, brown eyes. She has a tattoo of a phoenix on her chest.”

“That’s Lexie. I’m sure of it.”

“Okay. Well, we’ll have to discuss amongst the team here how to handle that considering the safety risk if we report it. What about Mila? Any sign of her?”

Scully shakes her head, though Agent Wiley can’t see her. “No, nothing. I don’t think she’s here anymore, if she ever was at all.”

“Shit. Well, go ahead and report for work tonight, see if you can dig up anything else. In the meantime, I’m going to report back to A.D. Kersh and see if we can get clearance to pull you out, maybe tomorrow.”

Scully sighs heavily with relief. “Thank you so much, Agent Wiley.”

One more day. She can make it through one more day. And then what?

She spends the afternoon cleaning the apartment, laundering the sheets and re-folding all the clothes in the drawers. She likes to leave places in better shape than when she found them. People too, she realizes. She wants the legacy she leaves to be a good one, whatever the situation. She hopes she leaves a good legacy at Damsels, as absurd as that sounds.

*******************************************************

Over his cup of shitty motel room coffee, he has an epiphany. Well, maybe not an epiphany so much as a realization.

He has to take a chance with Scully. He has to tell her how he feels. If he tells her and she doesn’t feel the same way, he might lose her. But if he doesn’t tell her, she’ll end up with someone else and he’ll lose her anyway. If he does nothing, he’s guaranteed to end up miserable and alone. He’s got nothing to lose.

He’s going to tell her. Tonight.

*******************************************************

Reporting for work that evening, she feels oddly nostalgic. She’s more than ready to go home and resume a job wherein her nipples are typically covered, but she feels a little sad about never seeing these people again. As she gets ready in the dancer’s room, she laughs a little harder at Tibet’s jokes. She smiles a little more warmly at Magenta’s sage advice. She feels greater empathy for Lexie, and desperately hopes that Agent Wiley will keep her and her daughter safe. Angel should be back tonight, but Scully hasn’t seen her. The thought that she may leave this assignment without ever having the chance to speak to Angel again makes her chest feel heavy with regret.

She goes out for her first stage set of the night and has a little more fun with it, knowing it may be one of the last. As she circulates the floor afterward, she’s a little more grateful for Denny’s careful watch and his protectiveness over her. She’s a little kinder to Mr. Keane in the VIP room as he laments never having had children. He seems a little more human to her, now.

Heading back to the dancer’s room for her break between sets, she thinks about how much she’s changed, and wonders if some of Desiree might make the journey home with her. Scully might like to keep her sense of playfulness, and her confidence. She might like to learn from Desi how to let go and just be in the moment. How to be with Mulder. She changes into a lavender bandeau top and matching bikini cut panties for her next, and maybe last, set, and is freshening her makeup when a familiar voice calls out from behind her.

“Hey, bitches!”

She smiles at herself in the mirror, feeling relieved, and spins around in her chair. As she turns to face the voice, her smile quickly fades and her mouth hangs open in shock.

Mila Chamberlain is standing in front of her.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #case file #case fic

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dreamieofu · 3 years

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not so lonely christmas

Written for the Taste of Winter Collab hosted by @dearyongs and @pastelsicheng. ♡

pairing: mark x gender neutral!reader word count: 2.04k genre: bestfriends!au, christmas!au, fluff x2 summary: these days you’re mostly by yourself and with mark being so far and so busy, you have no choice but to spend christmas alone. or so you think. warning(s): none - lower case intended. also, i guess i kinda left it open ended.

a/n: merry christmas everyone!! i hope you will enjoy this christmas present.♡ it’s finally coming to the end of 2020, i hope your end of year is filled with much love and happiness. i hope you’re not alone, and if so, don’t be scared to msg me. you’re never alone bc i’m here!! c: taglist: @puppywritings @neonun-au @dearyongs @yutacrush @notnctu @neo-shitty @luvlala@ahgase55g7 [i can’t seem to tag u angel :(((! ]

days during the holiday season had its perks. the warm feeling of christmas tickling at your nose, the bajillion lights that were strung across the city, the warmth of family and friends. it never failed to make you feel somewhat home, at least you’d think. having spent years with twinkling excitement at the idea of ending the long year wrapped up with a christmas bow. this year’s christmas seemed to be different though, maybe it was the way the night welcomed you, with an extra lightness in your steps. maybe it was the way the cool air swept harshly against your face as you walk your way home. this christmas you would be spending, alone.

you miss times with your younger self. holding merry traditions with your best friend, mark. each christmas you’d make each other stockings filled with your favourite things. you’d pick a movie; usually ‘the grinch’ and decorate a festive gingerbread house together. it’s been a few weeks since you’ve properly been in contact with mark and you’ve accepted by now, maybe he’s too busy with his schedules. so naturally you’ve learnt to let it go. all of your other friends were busy, so that left you only wishing on christmas stars, that maybe this christmas you wouldn’t feel so lonely.

hugging yourself closer, with the winter air nipping at the tip of your nose, you realise you’ve arrived home. your trembling hands inserting the key into the lock of your door, with a jingle, opening the front door. finally being welcomed home to darkness and the warmth of your small cozy apartment. but as your eyes adjusted to the low lights, you don’t fail noticing a pair of worn out converse placed on the side, near the rest of your shoes. your index finger hooks behind the ankle of your shoe to flick it off, panic and confusion settling between your eyebrows. after locking the door, you take cautious steps, silently tiptoeing towards your open living room. your grip tightening around the end of your shirt as you peep past the entry of your living room. the sound of cackling fire wood, and sparkling lights from a small christmas tree reflect on the ground as you see the back of someone’s head. warmth spreading across your face as you bite back a smile.

“mark?” you whisper in disbelief. a quick wave of realisation also settles in the corners of your mind, when you remember: mark, is the only other person who has the key to your place. mark’s head swings to the sound of your voice, a smirk already plastering on his face. he’s fast on his feet, reaching you in a beat, arms out embracing you. as much as he didn’t want to admit, waiting around for you was agony.

you sink your weight further into his broad chest, the feeling of his body warmth wrapping you whole; his scent familiar and his natural musk glazes your eyes. with small tears, you fist the material of his shirt, tightening your hold on him. “what are you doing here? why are you in the dark?” your voice is muffled against his chest as he chuckles. you feel the gentle weight of his hand stroke the back of your head, rocking you both side to side momentarily. you guess santa must have judged you nice, as your wish portrays as granted. mark being the best gift of all.

“i know i’m always busy with schedules. but i made sure to be here for you, on our favourite day,” mark’s voice holds heavy with sadness and you feel it. understanding he’s stressed and busy, you offer him a reassuring smile. the darkness that drags below his under eyes don’t lessen the glint of sparkle found in his eyes as he listens to you. “you didn’t have to.” confessing with a tinge of falsehood, instantly grateful he’s really here. this made you hold onto him tighter, rubbing a big ‘no’ against the width of his chest. “i mean... how are you? how’d you get here? when?” you speed through questions, mumbling against his shirt. mark just chuckles at your words.

“dude, why do you sound so sad?” he escapes away from your embrace, laughing, pulling at your ears gently. his fingers are warm, heating up the tips of your frost kissed ears. he takes time to look at you, taking your appearance whole and imprinting it in his tiny box of memories he holds for you. a small smile mirrors between you both as you sigh, rubbing your forehead against his chest, holding him close once again. “okay dude stop pouting! look what i got~” excitement tickling his toes as he guides you both, walking backwards blindly. you shadow his figure, your body draping along the wooden floor as you follow his steps. once he bends down backwards, you’re released; watching him open his luggage. he must have just arrived from korea today. much to your curiosity and amusement (due to his bent figure) your eyes linger at the object he beholds in front of you. it’s a stocking. your name still barely stitched onto the heel at the foot of the stocking. you bite back the biggest grin, almost letting out a squeal, looking at his large toothy grin, and your heart swells.

you finally absorb your surroundings. mark has put up a small christmas tree and he’s hung up lights. you close your eyes in disbelief, why did he have to go above and beyond with such little things. it made you almost feel guilty for not doing anything to the same degree for him. near the bottom of the tree was a small cardboard box filled with ornaments. he was so thoughtful.

you gasp, remembering and rapid with your feet as you head towards your bedroom. leaving mark bewildered, alone in the living room. your eyes quickly scan under your bed. even though mark is busy promoting and working in korea, without fail, both of you always fill up a stocking for each other. either to send overseas or to give when you visit each other after christmas. finally grabbing hold of it, you tighten your grip onto the stocking. you bolt down the hallway with the same lightness in your steps as you float back to mark.

you find him there standing with his back facing towards you as he holds the box of ornaments, in waiting. he’s already placed your stocking below the faux christmas tree.

“i have yours.” you giggle, placing mark’s stocking rightfully by the stocking he’s given you under the tree. he laughs at your panting self, handing you the box of ornaments, to pat your head rather endearingly.

you can’t help the way you wistfully watch the way mark carefully hangs some of the ornaments. he looks tired, but altogether happy. he radiates a soft glow, and it’s not just because the lights of the christmas tree that make him appear so. you look down at the box in hand and sigh, “you didn’t have to come all the way here you know?” it’s barely a whisper above the low christmas playlist he’s put on while you left him. mark stops what he does to look at your sunken figure. the side of his body nudges your shoulder out of trance. “don’t be silly.” he reassures you with one of the most happiest smiles you’ve seen all winter. you smile at his playful self, deciding not to push him further about it, and just be grateful he’s even there to begin with.

you spent the rest of the night with ‘the grinch’ playing in the background as you laugh together. you caught up with each other, asking him stories about his promotions and work. he reciprocates the questions. when you exchange your stockings and open the small presents, you can’t help being reminded of why you love christmas as much as you do. seeing mark’s smiling face only shows how much he feels the same way. and by the end you’re both breathless and light headed from all the laughing and giddy feelings you were getting. he’s home. you even decorated a store bought gingerbread house together. finishing the movie, you sit back against the couch, still in disbelief mark’s made this journey all the way to you.

“thank you for coming,” you finally confess, and he sits up at your words. mark strokes your ear in between his middle and index figure with a swift movement, a smile on his lips. the ambiance is light, and your feel like everything about christmas makes sense when you’re celebrating it with mark.

“i’ve missed you.”

mark’s words are frosted with truth and you fall into a daze as he continues to watch your bashful self.

“and i’ve missed you.”

“i know.”

there’s silence as the movie dies out. the only sound filling the room was the small crackle of firewood heating the room and your heartbeat hammering in your chest. the atmosphere suddenly feels heavier. he knits his eyebrows together at your empty words which fail to pass through your parted lips. you’re lost for words as he shuffles closer to you. “i-“

he stops his movements, softening his expressions as you find words. somehow, from your earlier endless ramblings, you’re finally all out of words. mark raises his eyebrows. “i have one more surprise.” you finally manage to say.

mark’s eyes widen at your statement, feeling excited at the mystery surprise.

“what is it?”

“follow me.” you bait, jogging slightly towards your bedroom. he follows you with an airy laugh as you reach the doorway of your bedroom.

you show him a teasing finger, pointing up towards the mistletoe that hung at the top of your bedroom door. he shares a laugh with you, being reminded of the teenage years where you’d pretend to be so love-struck and mocking of the ‘mistletoe kiss’. you’re leaning towards his cheek, about to give him your traditional version of the mistletoe kiss.

but mark thought he was going to give you the kiss.

his lips press against the outer corner of your lips. the curves of your lips just barely touch one another before you step back in shock.

his skin was warm, and you both stare at each other with wide eyes because of the sudden contact. mark’s cheeks turn rosy because of your reaction. the butterflies finding purpose in your tummy making you feel shy. you both try your hardest to fight back a laugh, feeling childish. mark loved the way you’d always find ways to make him feel happy, effortlessly giving him reasons to laugh. he’s really glad he decided to come home to you for christmas. he really missed you, despite his busy world. the fact that you’re really there in front of him after so long, gave him a push.

with a surge of confidence, the pads of his fingertips linger at the base of your neck. effortlessly you feel magnetic to him, your body lures into his aura as a faint smile graces his cupids bow. without spoken words, you know what’s coming. the ghost of his top lip gently pulls in your bottom lip as mark’s mind screams. he just had to. he had to kiss you, there wasn’t anything else in that moment, only a kiss came to mind; finding himself able to show you how he’s been feeling. he connects your lips together like tape meeting the wrapping paper. stuck together and enclosed for a fleeting moment, before it rips open with the way you kiss back, opening his heart. he feels like he’s falling and your kiss is bringing him back to gravity to land in a deep pillow of snow. your hands cold, holding the frame of his face lightly as he brushes his lips against yours again.

mark pulls back, like the feeling of pulling on the ribbon to unwrap your christmas present. he whispers, nose brushing against yours, a sweet “merry christmas.”

#mark lee scenarios #nctnetwrite #mark lee fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream scenarios #mark lee imagines #nct127 fluff #mark lee x reader #mark lee oneshot

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mxrekai · 4 years

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You see this tweet? This tweet right here?

It’s gross and I’ll tell you why, and I’ll break down the article as well because it makes me as angry as a bull.

You simply CAN NOT break these characters down to these (biased!) individual traits. And in Jason’s case, it’s not even a trait, it’s just damn slander with a photo of him dead attached to it, because DC still likes to push the narrative that it’s his fault he died. When in reality, he was a CHILD who was tricked and betrayed by his mother, and in the end still tried to save his mother who was responsible for his death. Joker and Sheila are responsible for this child’s death, NOT HIM.

These are all incredibly complex characters, with incredibly biased descriptions.

For Dick (the only one with his hero name for some reason), the oversexualized Robin by the fandom is more like it rather than ‘the cute Robin’. Which is kinda sad because he has a lot of depth that can be explored and stories that have been told that are really great (not Ric, screw that guy). Like his relationship with Bruce, his relationship with Damian, his relationship with his teams, his life outside of heroism, police life, dealing with his mental health, etc.

From what we’ve seen if I had to pick a single descriptor for him, I’d pick “The protective Robin” or “The first Robin”

Because he’s always willing to throw himself into harm's way to save others. Especially when it comes to his found family. Or the first Robin works well because he was the first. He started the whole Robin line.

For Tim, I’m sorry but I can’t really comment on Tim because I haven’t read his run yet, it’s on my to do list. But from what I have seen from other comics that include him, ‘the smart robin’ doesn’t fit very well because to be Robin they ALL had to be smart. And they all were smart Robins.

If I had to describe Tim, it would be “the detective Robin” because out of all of them, he is the best detective and is the most proficient at it.

For Damian... oh boy, I’m so sorry but he’s not my favorite Robin at all. But I know he’s complex and has depth. If anyone who reads this is a Damian stan, feel free to add onto this and tag me.

And last but definitely not least... Jason Todd.

This whole tweet and the article attached is Jason Todd slander (not what I pay for the DC Universe app for!) and a misrepresentation of his character.

“The Robin we’d like to smack some sense into.”

He👏was👏not👏a👏bad👏robin👏

He was a CHILD who just wanted to help and make a difference! He wanted to help the people in crime alley because he knew what it was like to be in that situation and he wanted to save people! When he first put on his Robin suit it gave him MAGIC. He had Robin magic but that Robin magic wasn’t enough to save him from getting beat to death by the joker.

Yes, sometimes he did not listen but that goes for EVERY robin, my girl Carrie Kelly included.

He had sense, he was also a child who made mistakes! Like all the other Robins!

Then he was brought back under the WORST possible circumstances, to come back and find out his death had little to no impact (unbeknownst to him of Bruce’s grief). Then go under some intense training, deal with pit madness, have his mind tainted with, then grow some problems with the man he loved who took care of him. His father.

If I had to pick a label for Jason? It’d be the discarded Robin. He was this boy who was thrown away by the fandom at the time by murder. Then like a broken toy, the writers proceeded to get a new Robin.

Or the redeemed Robin. When Jason was reborn as Red Hood, overtime he became a fan favorite in the DC community. Even won DC’s sexiest man. He was hated at first but is now loved by many.

Heck, maybe even that label because he’s grown from his first resurrection so much. Instead of being angry at the world, he’s now chosen to accept what happened to him and even reconcile his relationship with his family.

Or even the

Now onto the article...

Holy moly, this article sucked all the life out of me until I was left DCeased (get it?). It is way too obvious an angry stan wrote this.

Oh. My. God.

How is this in any way Jason’s fault? I don’t recall him having the ability to write his own comic book? This is the writers fault, not Jason’s.

Onto the second one.

Okay, sure it was rude to interrupt them, I’ll give them that one. But I’m also pretty sure Jason’s insert was for comedic effect. Tons of comic books have these moments.

I had to laugh at the “SO NATURALLY JASON TODD DID SOMETHING ANNOYING TO INTERRUPT IT” it’s just, damn. This article just reeks of bitterness.

This one confused me, so I went to go read the comic book that they were talking about. This, once again, was intended to be a comedic moment. Jason was simply expressing his excitement for going to go to the Gotham library so he blurts our “Holy Gutenberg!”. Bruce spins him around and tells him to never do that again. Even Jason’s confused on why he doesn’t like the reference. I think this is simply comedy, such as when he threatens to fire Carrie if she moved the batplane in the animated movie.

If a crowbar was right there Bruce NEVER would have grabbed it to hurt Jason over a REFERENCE. No sane person would.

Let’s look at the keywords here,

“Nightwing took a heavy dose of Scarecrow’s fear gas and had an extended nightmare about an alternate life.”

Once again, YOU WANT TO BEAT JASON UP FOR SOMETHING OUT OF HIS CONROL, AND NOT HIS FAULT? TO TOP IT OFF, NOT REAL?

Want someone to blame? Blame Scarecrow and the fear toxins for making Dick see all that. This was an alternate dream reality, no characters were in control or even there.

Yknow what, valid. Honestly, I’m pretty sure the heroes there have memorials elsewhere as well and Jason only got that robin suit on display (which was honestly more so to remind Bruce of his failure and make himself feel guilty), but fair.

CONCLUSION

In conclusion, this better have been some abstract marketing (which I hope it was) for the new Death in the Family movie coming out.

All in all, the Jason slander from DC was infuriating and frankly unnecessary. He deserves so much better because once again, he is a complex character who deserves a deep dive.

Please remember that this is just my two cents/opinion, and it is totally okay if you disagree with anything I said here.

Have a good day :)

#Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Red Hood #Red Robin #Carrie Kelly #I saw this tweet and got to WORK #this was longer than expected #that dive on the article was improvised #We don't stand for Jason Todd slander in this household #Or Dick or Tim slander

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

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Of All the Places

Chapter 9

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: A morning with you and a talk with John make it clear to Loki what he has to do. And, perhaps letting the right people in on his secret wouldn’t be so bad, after all. Chapter Warnings: some very fluffy bits and tons of pining A/N: From here on out, it’s going to get pretty plot heavy, so be prepared. Feel free to let me know what you think :) Updates every Friday.

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @marvelousdaydreams @parkastoria @lokistan

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki regained control of consciousness slowly, each sense returning to him one at a time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so soundly without having been injured. The last thing to register in his brain was your weight on his chest. You were on top of him even more than you had been last night, but he did not mind in the slightest. Instead, he smiled softly at your sleeping form, listening to the sound of your deep breathing. His eyes fell to your lips, parted ever so slightly, and he was overcome with desire to kiss you awake. He shook his head a little at the ridiculous idea.

He intended to sneak away and leave you to rest, but you foiled his plans by snuggling closer to him in your sleep, pinning him where he was. Looking down at your peaceful form, he caught a whiff your scent. It made him feel safe, a sensation he’d not been familiar with in a long time.

“Loki,” you whispered in your sleep.

“Yes?” he prompted, his heart beating a wild rhythm.

“Cold.”

“Ah, I see.”

It was silly to be disappointed. He shouldn’t have expected much else, after all, but it was not so uncommon for someone to make a confession in their sleep. He pulled the blankets tighter around you. For good measure, he said an enchantment to warm you up and ward off the cold radiating from his body. You released a sigh of joy and cuddled closer still.

Loki supposed he could go back to sleep, he very much would have liked to in fact, but now that he was up, his mind was racing. Now that he was sure of what he wanted, he’d need a plan to get it. To get you. The only problem existed in the form of his incompetence toward mortal courting procedures. He was vaguely aware that it was usually referred to as dating nowadays, but that didn’t exist on Asgard, so the word held very little meaning to him. A twinge of sadness shot through his heart as he realized Thor would probably know, considering his infatuation with that mortal woman, Jane Foster. Someone that he had been kept away from because of Loki. Now that he had you, his own mortal to love and cherish, he felt it an indescribable evil that he’d done such a thing.

“G’morning,” you mumbled in a groggy voice, too recently out of sleep to be embarrassed by your position just yet. You looked up at Loki and rubbed your eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than I have in a long, long time.”

“Yeah, hard work will do that to a person.”

“Perhaps,” he said, trailing one hand gently down your arm as the other came to rest on the small of your back. “Or perhaps it was something else.”

“Oh! Well, um, you know,” you fumbled for a coherent sentence, his words suddenly brining you to your senses. “It was probably the work thing. Building a barn, all that dancing. It takes a lot of a guy.”

You nervously laughed and made like you were going to roll off of him, but his arm didn’t budge, holding you in place.

“Well, for whatever reason, I am still rather tired. I would not mind a lazy morning.”

His beautiful grin convinced you to stay, and he couldn’t resist humming a little Asgardian tune as you absentmindedly played with his hair. It was a song Frigga had sung to him when he was just a child, before the malice had rooted itself in his heart. It always reminded him of a simpler, more innocent time. Here, with you, he felt that same feeling he did then.

“That’s really pretty,” you said once he was finished. “What song is it?”

“Something from deep in my memory. I am afraid that is all I can say.”

“Oh, well that’s good that things are coming to you in bits and pieces. Your brother, that book, this song—you’ll remember everything before you know it.”

“And yet, nothing could compare to this.”

“Yeah, this town is pretty charming.”

“I suppose you do not remember the last conversation we had about this,” he tsked. “It is not the town that I am referring to.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him. No matter how many times he said something like that, you wouldn’t get over it. Often, he couldn’t believe he said them, either, for a whole slew of reasons. For one, falling in love with a mortal was the last thing he’d ever imagined for his life. Though, now that he knew more about humans, he found it far more believable. And for another, he just didn’t have all that much confidence that anyone could love him like that. Why say such things if the feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated? That was the thing, though. With you, he dared hope they might be.

You opened your mouth to say something, but were cut off by the creaking of the barn doors. A loud meow came from Taffy as she made her way up to where you were, but you knew the cat wouldn’t have been able to open the doors. You and Loki looked at each for a brief second, both mortified and nervous to be found in such an intimate, vulnerable way. As a voice sounded from down below, you hastily broke apart, and Loki immediately missed your warmth.

“Are you out here?” Mama shouted, calling your name.

“Up here,” you said, leaning over the edge. “Loki’s here, too, in case you were worried.”

“Well, of course I was worried, but not ’bout him. Do you know how close I came to a heart attack when you weren’t in your bed this morning?”

“You are aware I’m not five anymore, right Mama?”

“Yeah, well, with your judgement,” she said, eyeing up Loki as he appeared beside you, “you sure seem like you are sometimes. Now hurry along before you miss breakfast.”

Well, the truce was nice while it lasted, but Loki guessed that whatever points he’d won with her from saving Matt were canceled out by his evening with you. Apparently she wasn’t too keen on the idea of you two cozying up with each other. Not that he meant that in a weird way or anything, but last night had been pretty intimate. And that wasn’t even mentioning this morning.

Shooting Loki an apologetic smile for Mama’s comment, you scurried down the ladder as not to upset the woman more. The raven haired god sighed and followed you, casting one last longing glance at the pile of blankets and pillows where you were snuggled together just moments ago.

“Listen here, boy,” Mama menaced in a low tone, putting up a hand to stop him. She checked over her shoulder to make sure you were already out of the barn before continuing. “I won’t be losing another one of my babies to an untrustworthy stranger.”

“I believe I already told you, I would never hurt them, never hurt any of you,” he almost pleaded. “That is not my intention.”

“Just because you don’t mean to hurt someone, doesn’t mean you won’t.”

She stalked out before Loki could get another word in, not that he really knew what to say. She was right, after all, especially when it came to him. How many people, how many families, had he destroyed in his path of life? He’d certainly ruined his own.

The God of Mischief sat down on a hay bale, burying his head in his hands. He felt distraught beyond words, torn between his head and his heart. His mind was screaming to let you be, but his heart—oh, his poor crippled heart!—was begging to never be away from you. And, in the end, wouldn’t leaving lead to pain for you, too? Whether you loved him back or not, he knew you cared in some way.

“Loki, you alright out here?” John called from the barn doors. “Mama said you were coming along, but you-know-who was starting to panic that you’d fainted or something.”

The trickster god smiled at your concern for his well being. It only strengthened his conviction that you wouldn’t totally scorn him if he were to tell you how he truly feels. Still, the thought of actually doing that was so daunting that he hid his face again.

“I am fine,” he said, taking in a deep breath. “Just fine, thank you.”

“You’re not,” John replied as he sat next to Loki. “We’re friends, right man? You can talk to me, too, you know.”

“It would be quite a lot to unpack, I am afraid,” he admitted with a wry laugh.

“I’ve got time.”

“I...” he began, unsure of how much he could say without revealing the truth. “The whole time I have been here, I have felt that I should leave. But now I do not know how I could do that without hurting those I care about. I also cannot fathom staying here forever without telling my true feelings to...” he trailed off, not quite ready to admit it out loud just yet, but when John said your name, Loki confirmed it with a nod. “For the first time in a while, I do not know what my next move should be.”

“Well, for starters, be completely honest with me, God of Mischief and Lies.”

“Pardon?” Loki deadpanned, his mouth dry.

“I know, Loki. But before you run off, I haven’t told anyone.”

“When? Why?” Loki questioned, at a loss for words.

“Remember when I went into the city the other day to get supplies after the tornado?” Loki nodded. He would have gone, too, but there was still too much damage around the farm from the twister for both of them to take off. “I found out then. Some small newspaper ran a story on it, and I put the pieces together.”

“And as for the why?”

“Because you’d literally just saved my son not forty-eight hours before. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. So I don’t care what they say, I don’t think you’re all that bad. Or bad at all, really. Don’t worry, you’re secret’s safe with me.”

Loki nodded slowly, comprehending the information he’d just been given. John really was a friend to Loki, but he was something more, too. He was almost what a brother should be, in Loki’s mind at least. He was like how Thor used to be when they were children. There was one time, before he’d received any kind of training, when Loki’s spell had backfired on him. It had hurt, both emotionally and physically, but he was too fearful of being reprimanded to tell his parents. Thor had sat with him then, much like John was doing now.

“I cannot even begin to thank you,” he finally said. “And I truly promise that I will do everything in my power to protect this family, not hurt it.”

“I believe you, but you have to promise one thing.”

“And that would be?”

“Tell them how you truly feel.”

It was a fairly reasonable request, all things considered. And John had insisted multiple times that you felt the same way about him. So perhaps this story wouldn’t have such a tragic finish after all. Then again, did villains get happy endings? Or maybe Loki wasn’t the villain. It’d been a bit since he hadn’t thought himself one, but in light of everything that had happened over the last month or so, he was starting to see things in a more favorable way.

“Alright,” he agreed. “I will do it, but you must give me time to plan.”

“Deal. And I hope you know, you’re going to have to tell them the truth sooner rather than later. About all this.”

“I do know. And it will be sooner. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt them.”

“It’s like I said before, Loki, I believe you.”

After thanking him again, they headed to the house, those three words ringing in Loki’s ears. I believe you. It had been a long time since anyone had believed Loki. Maybe he could believe John and accept that you liked him too. Maybe. But he wouldn’t have to guess for long; he knew he’d be finding out very, very soon.

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angelinasway · 3 years

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Regaining Hope Chapter Seven

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Sexual Assault Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: Thank you all for your amazing and wonderful reviews. I do need to address something though, when it comes to reviews, I honestly don't mind anyone critiquing me when comes to grammar, characterization, or even if its kind of a heavy subject and someone feels like they need to debate me on it. That is absolutely fine, for instance I knew I would get a few blocks and even someone asking about the religious views of this story. I do not mind that. I do however mind, if you think I'm a decent writer, but then proceed to belittle the content of my story. I'm going to try to say this as absolutely nicely as I can...If you don't like the content of this story, if the talk of soulmates, soulbounds, or claiming is not for you, if the romance of this story is not for you, kindly back out of this story now and please just don't leave a review. I will say that anyone who's been in the BTVS fandom long enough already knows what a Claim is pretty much a fanon canon, since its been around our fanfiction community since like 2002 at least. Wesley mentioned Angel and Buffy being soulmates in season one of ATS, so that is actually canon. I say this in the nicest way possible, because sometimes I think reviewers who don't write, do not realize how much a review about content can actually screw with our muse and inspiration and I believe there will be at least a handful of people that do write who will agree with me. That being said, this chapter took as long as it did for me to write because of a bad review, so I'm sorry for the long winded exposition everyone. I know this chapter is a bit choppy and if it wasn't for my beautiful Beta Hipkarma, I'm pretty sure it would have been illegible. This chapter deals with some pretty heavy subjects and I added a warning tag just in case. I do not expect anyone to feel the way Buffy does on this subject, and if you feel the need I will gladly talk to you through pm about it. Thank you guys so much again, and please review, unless you know its an above subject and you hate it. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Seven

The plane arrived right on time as Clark anxiously awaited Buffy’s arrival outside the terminal. He’d felt this way since he awoke this morning and he didn’t know why. It was almost like that feeling you get when you know you’ve forgotten something.

He’d dreamt of her last night and it was so vivid and real that when he opened his eyes, he expected her to be there. The feeling had washed over him after that, like a sudden cold draft in a stifling room. He’d also been as hard as nails and had to relieve himself twice in the shower. His dream Buffy whispering filthy words into his ear as he imagined pinning her to the shower wall and driving into her hard and fast. It only seemed to make the feeling worse though. There was a pounding, an almost driving force that told him he needed to see her and that coupled with the lust, he couldn’t seem to shake was a dangerous combination that he did not enjoy feeling at all.

It was so strange, yesterday he’d been fine, more than fine really. He’d walked into his house humming and smiling. His mom had noticed his exuberant mood in an instant and raised her eyebrows in surprise, a curious yet knowing quirk in her lips. She had immediately started bombarding him with questions about his evening and Clark had been unable to deny her even a single detail. Well, there were definitely a few things he left out, but he told her everything from meeting Buffy at the school to him having to sing at Lorne’s. This was a first for both of them, Clark making friends and being able to tell his mom all about it. She listened intently, a happy smile on her lips as if this was something she had always wanted for her son. The ability to just be treated normally by people, even if they knew what he was. The more he spoke about how great Buffy was the more his mom’s knowing smile grew. He told her he promised Buffy that he would pick her up at the airport, and his mom had agreed to let him use the truck as long as he promised to take her to work before he left. She had a full shift at the diner tomorrow, so he was pretty sure he could make it back in time to pick her up and take her home.

Later that night, after getting off the phone with Buffy so she could go patrol, Clark had spent the evening on the internet looking up several theories and ideas on the concept of soulmates. All in all, it was pretty simple stuff, a soulmate could be a romantic or platonic relationship with a mirroring of the souls. Where, both their values and ideals deemed them a perfect match. He had even gone to a few sites on the mystical aspects of soulmates that seemed to be pretty legit, and they believed that when it came to soulmates not only were the souls similar, but both souls usually challenge each other to perceive themselves and the world differently. In essence, your soulmate could help you transcend into a higher state of consciousness. All of that seemed to match very much with what he had been feeling since the moment he met her. None of that however, explained how he felt now.

Buffy had been right the other day when she said it wasn’t just the soulmates thing. He was almost positive the out-of-control lust and the uncontrollable desire to be near her had very little to do with the fact that they were soulmates and everything to do with the prophecy. Something wanted them to consummate their relationship, and he was pretty sure that something had a reason. He wondered if he was in danger of meeting the other woman and somehow changing his mind about her. He definitely couldn’t imagine ever doing that though, not when he felt what he felt, not when she had consumed his thoughts so thoroughly since the day they met.

He felt physically ill at the idea of ever having to fight Buffy as an enemy, Lorne’s words about killing her making him nauseous and dizzy. The demon said it most likely wouldn’t happen now, but God, what if it did? What if he wasn’t capable of fighting off this mystery enemy of the future. He shuddered at the thought, his anxiety level spiking in worry. He had to get himself under control.

As the passengers began to exit the terminal Clark looked on, his eyes searching for golden hair and green eyes. When he finally spotted her the tension that had been growing in his limbs immediately eased. It happened so fast he almost felt boneless by the sudden release. Her eyes met his and a similar look of relief washed over her face, but there was something else there. She was scared, which just made the tension begin to build again. Clark frowned in confusion, but didn’t deny her as she ran to him wrapping her arms around his waist tightly as she laid her head on his chest.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

She shook her head and closed her eyes. “There’s something wrong,” She whispered. “I shouldn’t be feeling this–”

“I know,” he whispered. “I feel it too.” Clark shuddered, so it wasn’t only him who was feeling it. “I think it’s time we learn more about this prophecy.”

He felt her nod. “I’ll call Wes once we get to the safe house.”

****<S>**<S>****

The drive there had been mostly quiet. The only real sound was Buffy’s smartphone giving directions to their destination. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching out and entwining their fingers however, and she smiled at him gratefully before closing her eyes and sighing. They finally arrived at what looked to be an unassuming house just outside of town that rested on a few acres of property. Buffy untangled their fingers and reached into her carryon bag that was between them and pulled out a large multicolored crystal.

“Here,” she said quietly. “Hold this.”

Clark, frowned but did as she asked. Watching her as she muttered the word, “Agnoscis.” The stone suddenly warming in his palm as he caught the house in front of him shimmer for a moment out of the corner of his eye.

“Latin?” He guessed.

Buffy nodded. “It means recognize. It’s so you can get through the wards.” She bit her lip, “We can also bring your mom here, in case you ever need to hide her you’ll have a place to take her that’s pretty impenetrable.”

Clark nodded gratefully, his eyes studying the sad expression on her face. He reached out and gently brushing the back of his knuckles down her cheek. Her whole body shivered at the contact, a small gasp escaping her lips.

“Are you…are you okay,” He asked.

She shook her head, “I think it’s affecting me more than you.”

Clark was quiet for a moment, and then he shook his head. “It’s not, I think I’m just a lot better at controlling my impulses.”

Buffy chuckled humorlessly, “Maybe, that’s something you can teach me sometime.” She met his eyes and Clark lost his breath at the want he saw shining there.

God, she was beautiful like that. Her eyes almost swirling with color and heat. His temperature immediately skyrocketed, his pants becoming tight. He wanted to ask her if there was anything he could do, but didn’t dare for fear of what her answer might be. She had already told him she wasn’t ready, and if he was being honest with himself, neither was he.

He swallowed, his heart beating in his chest. “Come on,” he whispered, opening his door and stepping out. “Let’s go make that phone call.”

He walked around her side of the truck as she fumbled with her seatbelt, opening the passenger door for her and holding out his hand. She took it gratefully as she slid out of the passenger’s side, hoisting her bag over her shoulder after her feet hit the pavement. Clark reached in the truck bed and grabbed the only other bag she’d brought with her. He wondered where her weapons bag was, but remembered she’d just went through an airport and realized she probably couldn’t bring them with her.

As if she was reading his mind, she said. “Willow was here last night; I had her ward the training equipment so that we can use it without destroying it.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as they walked up the driveway. Her hand fumbling with her keys as they made their way to the door. “I also had her fill the fridge and bring my weapons bag over.”

He didn’t say anything as he watched her slide the key in the lock and open the door. He followed her through a spacious living room that was tastefully decorated, through another door and into a modern kitchen. She slid her bag off, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. She pulled out her phone next, scrolling through her contacts and hitting send before putting it on speaker. She set the phone on the island between them and walked to the fridge, leaning her back against it as she closed her eyes.

Clark wanted to go over and comfort her, but something in his gut told him that would be a very bad idea. She was putting distance between them for a reason and he completely respected that. Her sudden change however, worried him and he was beginning to think maybe she really was suffering more than him.

"Buffy?" A cultured British male voice answered after the first few rings.

"Yeah, it’s me." She said quietly.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, his tone worried.

"No, not really." She answered. "I think it’s time you told us about this prophecy."

"Buffy, I've already explained–"

“No,” She cut him off. “No Wes, you don’t get to do this. Not now. Something is wrong with me, I feel…” Her face went red, as she looked at Clark, “I feel like I’m on fire, I…” Her eyes moved to her phone and glared, a growl tearing from her throat in frustration. Her teeth clenched as she ground out. “I feel incredibly sexually frustrated, okay? Like a cat in fucking heat.” Her face went scarlet and she avoided looking directly at Clark. “Want to explain?”

There was a sudden choking sound on the other line, as a coughing fit proceeded it. “Good Lord, it’s happening already?”

The outrage in Buffy’s eyes, did something to Clark in that moment and he stepped forward his anger simmering under the surface. “What’s happening?” He demanded.

“Mr. Kent,” Wesley said in surprise, “I didn’t…I didn’t realize you were on the line as well.” Clark heard the British man sigh, “I’m sorry we were finally introduced this way, I had hoped to meet you in person. I’m sure you already know that I am Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and that I am head of the Watchers Council.” There was a pause, before he continued. “I do apologize for not telling you both sooner, but I had hoped we would have a few more days before the bond started to require a need to be fulfilled.”

“Bond…what?” Buffy’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“I don’t really understand it myself,” Wesley admitted. “But it’s written that once the Immortal Slayer and, I believe the correct term is Star God meet, a…I think the term is soulbond will start to form and a compulsion to fulfill it will start to take hold. Now, both Willow and I think we’ve found a way to counteract the compulsion, but I didn’t expect it would start to take hold so quickly. I do apologize Buffy; I had planned to have Willow bring me there tomorrow so I could explain.”

“What’s a soulbond, exactly?” Clark asked, “And how is it any different than being soulmates?”

“I honestly don’t know, there are very few references to what it is exactly. I imagine that much like soulmates there must be a similarity or mirroring of souls if you will, but unlike soulmates there is a need…a compulsion for a confluence between the souls. As far as I can tell, once that happens it would act very similarly to a claim.”

Buffy gasped and looked at Clark, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Clark swallowed, “What’s a claim?”

“It’s a…a type of marriage between demons, vampires in particular.” Buffy shifted uncomfortably and looked down. “It’s barely ever used now because its unbreakable, not even magic can undo it. It’s ancient and powerful and requires total trust and consent between both parties.” She met his eyes then, an apology shining through but Clark didn’t feel like he needed one, in fact he just felt very confused.

“That doesn’t make any sense, not after what Lorne told me.” Clark said with a frown. “If this bond is as powerful as you say then…” It was his turn to look at Buffy apologetically, “Then even if I met this other person first, wouldn’t the bond take hold when I met Buffy regardless?”

“I don’t quite understand what you’re referring to.” Wesley said in confusion.

Clark looked up at Buffy and saw suspicion in her eyes. “Lorne didn’t tell you?”

“Lorne doesn’t give me the details of readings Mr. Kent; he treats all his clients very much like a therapist treats a patient.” Wesley said, adding. “The only thing he told me was that you were the one the prophecy spoke of and that you were on the right path in regards to your destiny. What exactly did he tell you?”

Clark shifted uncomfortably, feeling Buffy’s eyes on him but unable to meet hers. “He said I had two very different futures, that Buffy was my soulmate but I have another as well and in this other future this woman dies and something makes me go bad.” He finally got the courage and looked at Buffy, her eyes were wide and burning with hurt and maybe a bit of jealousy. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, thinking he had ruined everything.

Buffy shook her head and swallowed, “Did he… did he say what would happen if you met her now?”

Clark nodded, "He said I'm a one-woman man, that it wouldn't matter."

She seemed to relax a bit at his words, her eyes softening and darting back to her phone as Wesley began speaking, "Then you are very correct Mr. Kent, if you met Buffy in this other future, it should have activated the soulbond whether you had feelings for this other woman or not. A soulmate is not always a love interest after all." He paused for a moment, "There are only two things that could have stopped it. One would be that you don't meet Buffy until this mystery foe had your mind or if you did meet her, she was already claimed."

Buffy gasped, and looked at Clark guiltily, “I almost asked him to claim me.”

A potent wave of jealousy and possession swept through him at her words. If she was referring to Angel, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer. Not when the very idea of her being tied like that with someone else made his blood boil.

"What?" Wesley said, shocked.

"Spike, Wes. Not Angel." She clarified. "It was...it was right after we found Alicia. I knew it could make us stronger and I... I thought it might give us an advantage against Angelus. I never had the courage to ask him though."

“And thank every deity in the universe for that!” Wesley said sharply, “I don’t think you quite understand the repercussions that could have had on not just Clark’s future but your own.” There was a long silence, the only sound was heavy breathing before a much calmer Wesley finally said, “That kind of bond Buffy…think about what you did to Angelus and multiply it by a million. I was there that day you came through the portal after Spike died. You were almost feral; your Slayer was in complete control and she wanted to kill Willow for making her immortal. There was a part of her that already thought of Spike as her mate, and she wanted blood from whoever had wronged her. If you had been claimed and Spike died…” They heard him take a shuddering breath, “You would have burnt the world and then marched into Hell without a second thought in search of him. There would have been no stopping you.”

Clark watched Buffy shiver at Wes’s words, her eyes getting lost and faraway. His possessiveness grew at her words, but a small part of him couldn’t help but be curious as to what happened between the two of them and why she so rarely spoke about him. The book had only said that the vampire had killed two Slayers, and had tried to kill Buffy on numerous occasions. He had been hampered by some form of neurotechnology by the US Government and began working with her reluctantly. Somewhere along the way he had fallen for Buffy and regained his soul, sacrificing himself for the world once, where he was resurrected by a mystical amulet he was wearing when he died. The author of the book believed he’d been brought back by mistake and the amulet was meant to be worn by Angel, but there was also some speculation that Spike may have been the actual bearer of the Shanshu prophecy. The author however, was highly skeptical about this because Spike didn’t do what he did out of heroics, even with a soul he relished in the violence of his nature. The author believed that becoming mortal would feel more like a punishment than a reward for the vampire. It spoke some about his time at Wolfram and Hart, about his part in the fight against Angelus, and how he died saving Buffy a second time.

“I don’t…I don’t remember any of that.” She said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. “Even what I did to Angelus, I only remember parts of it. I felt like I was outside my body looking at someone who wasn’t actually me, except I could feel what I was doing.” She shivered, and it took every bit of self-control he had not to go to her, especially when her voice cracked. “When I came to, I-I was covered in blood and…God, Wes there was nothing left but a torso and head. I…” She choked. “I even took his face.”

When a single tear tracked itself down her cheek, Clark couldn’t take it anymore and he rounded the island and pulled her into his arms, hoping she was too upset to be affected by the embrace, but not really caring if she was, not when he could feel her trembling in his arms. He understood now why she’d been so adamant the other day about her being wrong in the way she killed Angelus and about Slayers not actually being creatures of light but warriors for the light. He could never picture her being capable of such carnage even after hearing it from her own mouth. Then again, he could never picture himself killing her either or anyone else for that matter, not on purpose at least.

They heard a muffled sniffle over the line, before a choked sounding Wesley finally said, “Oh, Buffy, I never…I never knew it was that bad. We found the warehouse and the blood, so I did realize…but…not to what extent, and then you just disappeared and Willow couldn’t ever get a read on you. It was like you were blocking her somehow. Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

Clark felt her shake her head, “I was ashamed.” She answered honestly. “Lorne’s the only one who knows everything, even the stuff I can’t remember.”

“Do you remember anything that happened before you captured Angelus?” Wesley asked cautiously. “I’ve always wondered how you did it, but was always too afraid to ask after the way we…the way we found you.”

Buffy sighed against Clark’s chest, her shivering increasing. “I think I let myself be caught,” she said quietly. “The only thing I really remember is being bound magically by Amy and then Warren tearing open my shirt.” Clark stiffened at her words, his whole body going rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut, her grip on him tightening. “Angelus threw him out of the way, and said everyone would have a turn, but he got to have me first.” Clark’s anger flared at her words, his fist tightening behind her back, he had to squeeze his eyes shut at the sudden heat he felt building. “I-I don’t know how, but somehow I was able to break through the magic that was binding me. Everything’s kind of a blur after that, but I think…” She frowned, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “I think none of the spells were working on me. I think…I think I killed everyone.”

Clark found himself sighing in relief at her words. God, just the image of someone trying to do that to her made him see red. Literally, in fact. He really hoped that something like that has never happened before, because he could already tell he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from tearing whomever did it to shreds. As horrendous of a way she killed Angelus, he couldn’t judge her for how she did it, not after hearing that. God, if she hadn’t been able to break the magic… He felt himself shudder.

Wesley was quiet for a long time, “I’ve always known that Willow brought you back stronger, but being able to break a binding spell with sheer force of will is extraordinary Buffy. We should have started testing this advantage years ago.”

“I try not to think about that day, Wes.” She huffed. “I don’t think the magic going wonky even occurred to me until this moment.” She was quiet for a few moments, before she finally said, "So what happens if I bond with Clark and I lose him too?"

Wesley sighed, "Well, I'm hoping since it’s your souls that are bonding and not your Slayer, that it will make quite a difference."

"You're hoping? That’s really not a guarantee, Wes." She said in annoyance, stepping out of Clark's embrace and leaning on the island. "And what’s to stop my Slayer from trying to initiate a claim? What if this soulbond thing isn't good enough for her? Lorne already said she's been looking for her mate since I was called. He said that's why I was so drawn to both Spike and Angel." She shook her head, "Well, according to this prophecy he's my mate, right? Or the closest she'll ever get to one. So, what's to stop her from doing what she's been wanting to do for years? I mean I looked up claiming in high school, Wes. As soon as I read the word, I was fascinated."

Clark stepped around the table so he could look at her. She seemed worried and deep in thought before her eyes met his and they softened immediately, a small smile forming on her lips as she studied him.

Then they heard Wesley sigh, "I honestly don't know. We've still not even translated the whole thing and we've been working on it for over a year."

Clark watched Buffy frown in confusion. "Is there a reason you haven't gotten Dawn in on this?"

"I'll give you three guesses as to why." He said sarcastically.

Buffy snorted, saying mockingly, "Aww Wes, you're not afraid of my baby sister, are you?"

There was silence on the other end of the line and then a grumbled, "I would rather face all the demons in hell than deal with Dawn on a tirade about you."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Well tough, because I want her in on this."

"But Buffy–” He started to whine.

“No Wes,” she said cutting him off. “I love both you and Willow, you know that. But, if there’s anyone in this world who will have our best interests at heart and give it to us straight, it’s her. I want her in on this.”

“Fine,” He groaned.

Then a smile broke across her lips and an evil look of mischief Clark was slowly becoming familiar with sparked in her eyes. “Plus, she already knows I spent time with Clark the other day and she knows he’s something other.”

“How on Earth did she find out about that?” Wesley said in surprise.

Clark smirked as Buffy’s smile grew. “I may have pissed Faith off by waking her and Gunn up with a cold shower. She ratted us out.”

There was silence on the other line, but she swore she could hear him shaking his head. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.” She said chuckling and then sighed. “I’m feeling a little better now, I mean as far as the compulsion stuff goes.”

“Hmm,” Wesley hummed. “Perhaps it gets worse when you’re apart. I knew that you would feel a need to be around each other, but perhaps being away from one another has an even greater affect than I imagined. How about you Mr. Kent, how do you feel?”

Clark blinked in surprise. Now that Buffy mentioned it, he was feeling less uncomfortable than he had all morning. “Better, actually. It’s still there, but not as potent.”

“Then perhaps the theory is a sound one,” Wesley said. “However, to be on the safe side I’ll have Willow drop off the pendants she’s making this evening. They should be able to subdue most of the compulsion until you both feel ready to move forward with the bond. I would also recommend spending as little time apart as possible. I believe that the pendants are powerful enough to ward off the worst of it, however if this bond is as powerful as I think it is you very well might override the magics if the compulsion becomes too powerful.” He sighed, “I suggest staying there with Buffy for the time being Mr. Kent.”

Clark shook his head “That not going to work Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I need to help out on the farm. While I was away my mom got behind on the payments and if we don’t bring in a decent crop this year my mom could lose it.” He looked at Buffy nervously. “You could stay with us though; we have a guest bedroom.”

Buffy nodded, “Yeah, yeah, that might be a good idea. I can help you with anything you need, and we can start your training in the afternoons.”

Wesley cleared his throat, getting both their attention. “I think you’re forgetting the contract, Buffy. He may very well not need to worry about that any longer.”

Buffy’s eyes widened, “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. I’ll be right back.”

Clark watched her run out of the room as Wesley said, “Are you still there Mr. Kent?”

Clark looked at the phone, “Yes.”

“Good, I thought I’d go over the numbers for you and see if they’re satisfactory.” Wesley said. “I had thought of paying you as we would a hired mercenary or demon hunter, however since your role in the future will be pivotal to keeping this world intact, I decided you deserved what we would pay any Slayer, it’s only fair after all.”

“What aren’t you telling us about this prophecy?” Clark said, Wesley’s words telling him the man knew more than was saying.

He heard the man sigh, “I would prefer not to say at this moment. I already know how Buffy will feel about it, and I believe you both have enough on your plate with the bonding. I’ll tell you both, but she’s not ready to hear it yet.”

Clark frowned, “I don’t think you give her enough credit.”

“You may be correct,” Wesley conceded, “But I know she will not be happy about this, even if it’s a good thing. I, at the very least need to prepare myself for Dawn finding out, and she may very well tell Buffy even if I ask her not too. I do not believe either of you have long to wait.”

“Alright,” Clark said, “I’m going to hold you to that though.”

“Now,” Wesley said, just as Buffy walked back in the room. “How does two hundred-thousand a year sound?

Clark blinked in surprise, the blood rushing to his head. He couldn’t have possibly heard that right, could he? “I’m sorry did you…did you just say two hundred-thousand?”

“Clark are you okay?” Buffy asked, running to his side. “You look a little pale.”

He shook his head, “It’s…that’s too much.”

“No,” Buffy disagreed, shaking her head. “It really isn’t. Entering this world Clark… you’ll be putting not only your home but your mom at risk and no amount of money will ever make up for that.” She bit her lip and nodded, “Trust me on this, most demons aren’t stupid enough to mess with the good guy’s families, but the real big-bads, the uber-powerful demons, who’s only goal is destruction and world domination? Those demons won’t care, they’ll do everything in their power to try and hurt you, even if that means trying to break you.” She sighed, “It’s why I want your mom to have access to this place too. It will make me feel better knowing you can get her to safety if you needed to.”

Clark sighed, reaching out and sliding the small stack of paper out of her hand. “And what happens if I sign these and change my mind?”

Wesley spoke up, “You are not beholden to anything Mr. Kent, if you sign those and decide that helping the Watchers Council is not in your best interest, it would simply be like you quitting a job. You wouldn’t be paid anymore of course, but you would not be obligated to continue helping us either. However, with the bond beginning to form I’m not sure how you would be able to distance yourself from the Council or Buffy, but if you made that decision no one would stand in your way.”

Clark pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes quickly reading it through. It was pretty standard stuff, nothing in it that had some sort of hidden agenda. He flipped the page and read through the rest before getting to the signature line.

“Do you have a pen?” He asked, looking at Buffy.

She went to a small drawer and pulled it open, grabbing one from inside and handing it over. Clark took the pen signing his name on the dotted line. “Okay Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, I signed it.”

“Very good.” Wesley said, “Now, I don’t suppose you’re up for giving him a tour of the underground facilities?”

“Of course.” Buffy said.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll call you before Willow leaves, in the meantime try and keep your wits about you.”

The line disconnected and Clark raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Underground facility?”

****<S>**<S>****

Buffy slid open the hidden panel in the wall of the master bedroom. She entered a number into the keypad and then looked up into a camera where it scanned her face, and slid her keycard into the slot.

The computer’s AI came online and a female voice said, "Good afternoon Miss Summers, what can I do for you this afternoon?"

"I need to give a new recruit security clearance."

"Name?" The computer asked, as Buffy removed her keycard and slid in the blank one Willow had left for them.

Buffy nodded at Clark and stepped away from the panel so he could stand in front of it.

"Clark Joseph Kent," he answered, stepping into the space Buffy had just vacated.

"Facial recognition." The computer said, and Buffy pointed up to the camera, indicating he needed to look into it.

Once that was done the computer said, "Four-digit pin."

Buffy looked at Clark and nodded, "Now choose four numbers you'll remember easily."

She watched as he thought about it a second before he put in his code. Once that was finished the computer said, "Thank you Mr. Kent, you now have full access to the Watcher Archives as well as all facilities. Ms. Summers would you like access into the rest of the building?"

"Yes," Buffy answered before the hidden wall shifted, sliding away and revealing the steel doors of an elevator that would take them down into the heart of the house. The doors slid open and Buffy removed the new keycard handing it to Clark as they stepped into the elevator, Buffy pressing the simple down-arrow button.

“We had these built in all the safehouses after what happened with Angelus.” Buffy said as way of explanation. “Or I should say, Wes and Willow did. I wasn’t really around for that.”

It didn’t take long for the elevator to reach its destination and the doors slid open. She could feel Clark’s eyes on her as she stepped out of the elevator and into the large steel control room. There were several monitors on the walls with keyboards on a stainless steel counter top that bolted into the walls along half the room.

“This is the control room.” Buffy said, “For safety reasons, if we’re ever in any code-red type situation, this room is always occupied in case someone manages to get past the outer wards. We can house up to thirty bodies here at a time and since most of us are a little something-other, we can at least hold off whoever’s broken in to give the rest of us a fighting chance to escape by sounding the alarm.”

She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t look at him right then. It was just occurring to her all that she admitted to Wesley and what she’d said in front of Clark. He was going to ask about Spike, she could almost feel it. Of all the things Wesley could have brought up, it had to be claiming. She felt Clark move closer, and wasn’t surprised when she felt him place his hand on her shoulder as she rambled on about where the exits were located.

“Buffy?” He whispered.

She sighed and looked down, “Yeah?”

“Why…why don’t you ever talk about him?” Clark asked.

Her shoulders slumped at his words, but she still couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look at him. “It’s…it’s complicated.”

“Well then, I think you should try to uncomplicate it for me, because this thing sounds pretty permanent between us and I need to know if I’m going to be living in another man’s shadow.” He said honestly.

She spun around, her eyes meeting his in surprise. “God, no. It’s not like that at all. We were…” She sighed. “Maybe we should go into another room that’s more comfortable. This is a long story.”

Clark nodded at her and she turned, leading him through the heavy metal door to their left and down a hallway the AI illuminating the rooms as it monitored their approach. Buffy led him into a large rec room, a massive tv mounted to one wall with a standard sized couch in front. There was a card table in a corner and a pool table in another. A few pinball machines lined one wall of the room and a dartboard hung near a foosball table. She led him over to the couch, gesturing for him to sit before she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She waited for him to sit down first, and sat at the other end biting her lip in thought, staring straight ahead into the black void of the blank tv screen, not sure exactly where to start. She figured the beginning was probably best, so she started there.

“When I met Spike,” she said slowly. “He was just about as evil as they come, or at least that’s what my sixteen-year-old-self thought. Though, I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Angelus yet, so I was a bit naive in that department. Anyway, his girlfriend-slash-sire had been weakened in Prague at some point and he came to Sunnydale to try and restore her and bag himself another Slayer.” She shrugged, “So, we pretty much started out as mortal enemies. We fought each other a lot that first half of the year, and he was a hell of a fighter. He almost got me on that first one, but incredibly enough my mom was the one who saved the day.” Buffy smiled in amusement. “Clocked him on the back of the head with an axe.”

Clark snorted in amusement. “Sounds like something my mom would do.”

Buffy smiled, “Yeah my mom could be pretty tough.” She shrugged, “Anyway, I ended up putting him in a wheelchair after dropping an organ on him during a spell that actually did end up restoring Drucilla. On my birthday I found out they were both still alive and Dru was reassembling an ancient demon called the Judge who couldn’t be killed by any man-made weapon. Me and Angel tried to stop it from happening, but we were both too late. That night I made the colossal decision of losing my virginity to Angel.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and sighed, “And just like that his soul was gone. Maybe that’s why I clung on to the notion that we were somehow destined for so long. I mean, the breaking of Angel’s curse literally states that only a moment of perfect happiness could release the soul. I guess I thought that if our love was enough to drive his soul away, it must be special.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “Honestly, knowing Angel it had more to do with him somehow feeling redeemed in me or it very well could have been that he hadn’t dipped his wick in over a hundred years. Whatever the cause, so began several horrible months of mental torment from a demon wearing my lover’s face.”

“And Spike?” Clark asked.

Buffy sighed, “Spike went through his own torment at the hands of Angelus and Drusilla. Spike really did love her, but her love compared to his was fleeting at best. He told me once how they would mock him for being wheelchair bound and Angelus would…well, he would fuck Dru right in front of Spike because he knew how much it hurt him. I think that’s when whatever destiny Spike had must have started. He came to me and made a truce in the hopes of getting Angelus away from Dru and also according to him, he actually liked the world and didn’t want to see it destroyed like they were planning.” She sighed again, “Anyway, that’s probably the first instance where I started to see Spike in a somewhat different light. Less of a danger and more of a nuisance if that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Clark nodded. “I guess I could see that.”

“Okay, so skip ahead a few years, when I’m in my first year of college. I’ve seen Spike once in that time when he kidnapped Willow and Xander, trying to make Willow preform a love spell to get Dru back. Apparently, our little truce didn’t sit well with her and she dumped him.” Buffy shrugged, “We had one more real fight where we were actually trying to kill each other that year, and then a few months later the Initiative planted the chip in his head and then once again he came to us for asylum.” A small smile tugged at her lips, “We fought like cats and dogs that whole year. I think our bickering is partly what drove Giles to drinking so much. Then sometime during the next year when Dawn arrived and my mom got sick, he realized he was in love with me.” Buffy sighed. “It wasn’t a healthy love though, not even a little bit. He was obsessed with me. He had a weird shrine to me and he had, the super nerd Warren make a lifelike robot of me for reasons I’m sure you can guess.”

Clark grimaced before saying, “Is that the same Warren that–”

“The one and the same.” She interrupted. “I’ve dealt with some pretty gross demons before, but as far as Warren goes, he’s probably the worst human I’ve ever had to deal with.” Buffy sighed, “Anyway, as weird as Spike’s obsession with me was, he did some things that year that really surprised me. Things that normal vampires wouldn’t do, though I still to this day haven’t decided if Spike was the unique one or if Angelus was, because I know for a fact Spike isn’t the first vampire to keep a portion of his humanity after being turned.” She shook her head getting back on topic, “Anyway, he protected my sister’s secret when Glory tortured him for information and he promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world. When I came back the next year, I didn’t really acknowledge it at the time, but he was still there. Still looking out for my baby sister. It’s strange how you don’t see those things when they happen, but Spike loved Dawn like a little sister and he loved my mom too. For some reason he was drawn to us Summers women.” She sighed and looked at Clark. “I already told you when I came back, I went to a dark place.”

Clark nodded, his eyes studying her face. “You have.”

“I went to that dark place with Spike, I didn’t… when I came back, I was numb and I didn’t know it at the time, but my Slayer had gotten stronger. Part of me hated my friends, I was furious with them for bringing me back and expecting me to be happy about it.” She swallowed, “Spike became my confidant at first, he became my quiet solace. I could sit with him and just be… he didn’t…he didn’t expect me to just be okay like everyone else. I was the one who made the first move…we were under a spell at the time but that didn’t stop me from making a second move after it was broken. One night not long after our second make out session, after my Watcher decided I needed to learn to do things on my own and left, we got into an argument about the kiss and I hit him,” she frowned bitterly, rolling her eyes. “He retaliated and must have realized his chip didn’t fire. The next day, well he started a real fight with me. The first one we had since…well since our brawl before the chip.” Buffy could feel her cheeks heat up at the memory, “It was the first time I felt alive since my resurrection and one thing led to another and we…well we weren’t fighting anymore. At least not with fists. It was the first time I didn’t have to hold back and it was exhilarating.” She looked at her hands, “And the next day I told him how disgusting we were, and I was cruel and awful to him.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying that he didn’t give as good as he got, but I was always the one saying the cruel stuff first. I was awful to him Clark; I beat him once and left him for the sunrise. He was trying to help me…well, I thought I accidentally killed someone.” She pursed her lips, even the memory of Warren now days could send her into a rage. “I hadn’t, Warren once again was trying to fuck with my life, but both of us thought I did. He didn’t understand why I had to turn myself in, how much even thought of hurting someone innocent was killing me. I…I just snapped. I honestly don’t know how he managed to make it to safety on time.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Clark’s arms come around her. “He still had bruises a week later and vampires, they heal fast.” She sniffled. “Shortly after that my ex-Riley came to town and somewhat reminded me why being with a soulless vampire was a bad thing. I realized that what we were doing…we had to stop. I was using him and it wasn’t fair to either of us, so I broke things off.” Buffy shook her head, “It was hard, because I really did still want him, but I resisted. Some things happened, over the next month or two, my friends ended up finding out about us and one night, he showed up at my house. I was pretty banged up from a fight earlier that evening and he tried to…I’m not even sure he knew what he was doing…but he tried to rape me.” Buffy said quietly, she felt Clark’s arms stiffen around her, this was the judgment she’d been waiting for. “I kicked him off, and he was shocked at himself and then I said, ask me again how I could ever love you?”

She looked at Clark then, and she could see the anger swirling in his blue eyes. “That’s why Spike got his soul. He thought it was the only way he could be sure never to hurt me again. He wanted to be the man I deserved. He did it for selfish reasons of course, but the outcome of those reasons? It was worth it in the end, because he’s the reason we don’t still have a Hellmouth in Sunnydale California.”

Clark shook his head, “I don’t…how can you have feelings for someone after they…even if he didn’t, how could you have not wanted to kill him?”

Buffy shook her head. “Because love isn’t rational, because it can be beautiful or a nightmare, and unfortunately feelings can’t just be flipped on and off. I think if he hadn’t gotten his soul, I would have felt differently, and maybe I eventually would have stopped caring about him. You have to understand though…what he did, it’s never been done before. He fought against his nature and became something incredible for it. I think I would be kinda a hypocrite if I could forgive and still love Angel for what he did to me without a soul, but couldn’t forgive and still have feelings for Spike.”

“Your ability to forgive, Buffy…I think you might have me beat in that department.” Clark said.

She shook her head, “I don’t necessarily think that’s true. I don’t think I can ever truly forgive Willow for bringing me back, and you now know what I did to Angelus.” She sighed. “I really do think it depends on the transgression. Willow tore me out of Heaven, she made me immortal, denying me the peace and reward that all Slayers crave. Angelus went after people I love and he tormented and killed my sister Slayers, all of which were young girls, newly called. I know what Wes said, and part of its true, but Spike was just the catalyst, he was not necessarily the cause. It was my hate, my emotions guiding my Slayer, and it wasn’t the first time that part of me wanted to kill Willow nor was it only her that wanted to destroy Angelus for what he had done.”

“And the claim?” Clark asked.

Buffy sighed, “It was something that was swirling around my head for a while, and at first it was absolutely a hundred percent my Slayer. But by the time I started seriously considering it, that was definitely all me.”

Clark looked away, “You wanted to bind yourself to him for eternity.”

She was silent at his words; she knew what he was thinking and he was wrong. She remembered very clearly why she wanted to do it. “It…I really did want to win, Clark. I know you’re thinking I must have been head over heels in love, but… I loved Spike, I did and I still do, but not…It was the type of love you hold for your best friend, for the person who gets you more than anyone else. I’m not saying it wasn’t romantic in nature either, but it was a love that formed over time. There was no cupid moment. I knew we were compatible sexually; I knew he would never leave me, and I knew it would make us stronger. Claims, they don’t even require love to be fulfilled, just a mutual respect for one another and I knew we could make it work.”

Clark sighed, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Why didn’t you then?”

“Fear,” Buffy said simply. “Fear of the unknown, fear that he would say no, and fear that he would say yes.”

She watched Clark swallow. “And you want to do the same to me?”

Buffy blushed. “I-I don’t know. Yes, I think so…” She was silent for a moment. Did she want to claim Clark? Her Slayer seemed to think so, but was that the prophecy or an actual want. She certainly didn’t want to lead him on, so she said “But I think it’s something that could happen in the heat of the moment.” She could literally feel her face heating up even more. “Just, if…if I ever bite you when we…and say ‘Mine’, don’t answer unless you’re willing to do the same.”

“I’m assuming when you say bite, you mean breaking skin.” He said raising an eyebrow.

“I do.” She admitted. “That’s basically what a claim is, it’s a symbolic ritual of sharing one’s life force, blood, saliva, semen. The mixing of your essence with another to create two halves of a whole.”

A slow amused smile broke across his lips. “That actually sounds kind of beautiful, if not a little messy.”

Buffy snorted, her own amusement growing at his analogy. “Anything else you want to know, before we continue our tour?”

His eyes slowly gave her a once over, before he shook his head. “No, I think that was more than enough for today.” He looked down, “It’s hard for me to picture you like that, being cruel I mean. Not when…not when you’ve been so nice to me. I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand anything you told me about him and you, and…and if I’m being honest, I can’t help feeling…” He looked at her seriously, his mouth set in a firm line. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t come back from the dead again, because I can’t promise I will be very nice.”

She found herself giggling at the visual. Dear God, that would be funny, especially with how quiet and reserved Clark was. Spike would drive him up the wall. “Oh, trust me neither will he, even with the soul he had the ability to drive just about anyone mad with rage.”

“Well, then it’s probably a good thing he’s not around anymore. I don’t think I’d like to be responsible for killing someone you cared about.” Clark said seriously.

Buffy rolled her eyes; he might be from another planet but he was definitely a hundred percent male. “Yes, Clark, lucky for you, you only have one of my ex’s left to contend with and he’s married.” She pushed herself away from him, grabbing his hand as she did and pulling him to his feet as she stood. “Now, come on, I’ll show you the training room.”

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ayanna-wild · 4 years

Text

When Forever Ends

Word Count: 1550

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, not gonna lie this is intended to rip your heart out, I apologize ahead of time. It's sad and the only fluff is sad, sad fluff. I tried to negotiate for a slighter happier ending but the requester said and I quote 'Nope, rip my heart out and make me cry.' And the song they asked for doesn't help lol. So here it is.

A/N: Request from anonymous

Summary: Your voice echoed in his mind, he saw your smile every time he closed his eyes. It'd been years, but lately everything triggered his memories of you. He couldn't give you forever, but he promised he'd love you forever, even long after you were gone.

............................................................................

He knew, from the moment his eyes opened, he knew today would be hard.

This day always was.

It didn't matter how much time had passed, or how things had changed, this day would always provoke memories that squeezed his heart. Memories he never wished to forget, but hurt nonetheless.

He took longer to get ready then he normally did, his mind elsewhere as he poured himself a drink. It was early, to early to be drinking, but he needed the comforting burn the amber liquid offered him, needed the momentary distraction.

"Don't take too long Lucifer, a bad morning doesn't mean the day is ruined, we'll just have to make it a good day, won't we?"

He lowered the crystal glass away from his lips, a sad smile on his face. He couldn't almost hear your voice, as if you were right there. The almost joyful way you'd playfully scold him for taking to long. He sat the now empty cup on the glass bar, drifting towards his bedroom.

"Not today love." He muttered.

He wanted nothing more then to spend this dreary day locked away in his penthouse. Left alone with his memories of you, but his friends would be expecting him, and he had no excuse to give. So he got himself dressed and he put on a smile that never really reached his eyes, and he went on with his day.

"Must I? It's a rather tedious task, isn't it?"

You raised an eyebrow, smiling a bit as you fixed his tie.

"You don't have to do anything Lucifer. If you don't want to do something, don't. If you don't like something, change it."

You patted his chest lightly as you finished adjusting his tie.

"After all the devil is all about free will, isn't he?"

"Lucifer!"

He blinked at the sound of Chloe's voice, he hadn't realized he was so lost in the memory. Both Ella and the detective were watching him with almost concerned expressions.

"Well don't stand there gawking, don't we have a case to solve?" Lucifer huffed, turning his gaze away from them.

"We've been saying your name for almost five minutes." Chloe said slowly.

Her expression was sympathetic, and she placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"You seem really distracted today, is everything okay?"

Lucifer looked at her from the corner of his eyes, taking a step away from her reach.

"I'll be just fine detective, don't we have more pressing matters to focus on?" Lucifer said dismissively.

Ella frowned as her and Chloe shared a skeptical look.

"But Lucifer... you're crying..."

He frowned a little, slowly raising a hand to touch his cheek. A small smile graced his lips and he let out a quiet laugh as he started at his hand.

"So I am..."

Chloe took a step forward, trying to offer him comfort but Lucifer raised a hand, taking a step back.

"Perhaps it'd be best if I sat this case out, I'm afraid my mind is elsewhere today, I wouldn't be of much help."

He left in a hurry, their sympathy only making the pit in his stomach grow. They watched him go and Chloe pulled her phone from her pocket.

"We should call Linda."

Lucifer heaved a heavy sigh as he sat at the red light, impatiently waiting for it to change. He tapped his ring on the steering wheel, wondering just how much longer until the red turned green.

"You'd think the devil would be more patient with all the deals and favors you make."

He smiled at the memory of you saying that. He'd been rushing you, eagerly hoping to get to the party on time. You, however, seemed content to take things slow.

"If you're always rushing, you'll miss out on the things around you." You'd told him.

He'd begun to slow down a little after that, enjoying every moment a little more.

A honk from the car behind him pulled him from the memory, and he quickly sped away. Driving faster then he should have down the busy streets of LA. The sun was beginning to set when he finally reached his destination. He parked the corvette, shutting off the engine. He didn't move, not for a while.

The rows of tombstones seemed to stretch on for miles, and he took a small breath as he exited his car. It was memory now, finding the black marble stone, with the golden writing on it. He'd come to it so often, he could have found it blindfolded.

Lucifer stared at your name, engraved in elegant cursive, an old black and white photo of you, set in glass just under your name. You looked so beautiful, smiling as you proudly showed off the ring he'd given you. His heart dropped and he placed a hand on the smooth marble of your stone.

"Don't cry Luci, we always knew I couldn't be with you forever, we just didn't know it'd be this soon."

The first sad memory he'd had of you today and it made his vision blur. You had looked so pale laying in that hospital bed, so young to be so sick. He grasped your hamd tightly your own grip so weak.

"I don't know where I'm going, but I will always love you Lucifer."

He reached into his jacket, pulling a chain from his pocket, where your ring hung.

"Lucifer?"

He heard the voice, but didn't turn around, holding that ring tightly.

"I suppose the Detective called you?"

His voice was quiet, and Linda catiously approached him.

"She was worried, we all are."

He gave her a small smile before turning back to your grave.

"I'll be just fine my dear doctor. This is just a rather hard day for me."

Linda turned her attention to the tombstone, reading the name and looking at the photo. The date however surprised her a bit, she wasn't expecting it to be so long ago.

'1920-1945'

"You must have been very close."

Lucifer smiled a little, opening his hand to delicately trace the diamond on the silver band.

"Very much so..."

Linda looked at the ring, her heart breaking a little as she realized what it was.

"It's been seventy-five years, and this day never gets any easier."

He tucked the ring back into his pocket, kneeling down to brush a few blades of grass from the grave.

"She was so young to die so soon, although I suppose it was a cruel sort of mercy, I couldn't have bared to watch her grow old without me." Lucifer muttered.

"I can't give you forever, but darling I will love you forever, for all of time."

You had smiled when he said that, your hand growing colder in his.

"Heaven or hell, no matter where it is I go, l'll always be thinking of you Lucifer, and you'll always have my heart."

Lucifer softly skimmed his fingers over your photo before standing up again. Linda placed a comforting hand on his back.

"Forever and always darling."

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#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #luciferonfox #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar oneshot #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer morningstar x you #luciferonnetflix #lucifer netflix

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ohnopoe · 4 years

Text

If we get caught I’m blaming you | Inspector Sullivan

Ship: Inspector Sullivan x Reader Prompt: If we get caught I’m blaming you Word Count: 1.1k+ Warnings: sexual references Tagging: @23orso (requester), @hawkerz12

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you,” the words escaped his lips in something akin to a huff that could have been easily mistaken for irritation to any onlooker. But you were too close to misread his emotions, with his arms pinning you against the drawers in his office, practically hovering over your waist, desperate to touch you, yet not quite willing to cross that final line. He was so close, the feel of his heated breath could be felt against your lips and you desperately wanted to move forwards once more, to feel his kiss once more. But that slight mischief in his gaze was too tempting to ignore; a far too rare sight that you intended to take full advantage of.

“We could always stop if you’d prefer,” you suggested softly, eyes wide with a playful innocence as you tilted your head just right, knowing the thought would only rile him up further.

With a growl of disapproval, and more than a hint of longing, the restraints were broken. Hands grasped your waist, hoisting you onto his desk with an almighty clattering as you desperately tried to move as many items out of your way as possible. Laughter was ready to spill from your lips as the usually so proper inspector ignored the mess you had both created, but before you could even make a sound, his lips were back on yours.

It was hot and heavy, with a rushed gasp for air before you were both back for more. His kiss was addictive, destroying any form of restraint you probably ought to have felt. But moments like this were too rare, and it had been so many months since he had moved to Kembleford, so many months since you had been forced to separate due to your jobs. But it was over now, you were finally there, with him, surprising him in his office of all things, in the middle of the work day, and oh, how the surprise was worth it.

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, but you had truly doubted that as time went on, keeping you apart, letters and phone calls replacing all those nights you had spent curled up in one another’s arms. But there was a passion that was shown so clearly in the way his lips moved against yours, a longing in his gentle touches that gingerly moved against your sides, almost uncertain and shy as he had been so long ago. Perhaps it wasn’t that distance made the heart fonder, perhaps it simply reminded you just how much you needed one another.

Desperation and desire fuelled your actions, as he finally gave in to the longing he felt, pushing you back until your hand reached out against the desk to help your stance. You barely heard the clattering of the tea cup crashing to the floor, distracted by the feel of his thumb running over your hip, drawing light patterns against the thin fabric of your dress. With your own hand coming up to clench at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, it was easy to lose yourself to the feeling of him pressed against you.

A knock on the door should have caught your attention, but it wasn’t until you heard the Sergeant’s voice calling through the locked door that you finally pulled apart, albeit reluctantly.

“Sir?” Goodfellow called out uncertainly, wary to interrupt whatever private ‘conversation’ it was the inspector was supposedly having with a so-called old friend. “Is everything alright?”

Your breath was coming out in short huffs as you caught the irritated look in his gaze. Interruptions were not welcome at the best of times, but after so long apart, it was practically excruciating. With a glance about the room, taking in the mess of papers that had landed on the floor along with the shards of fine china from the now destroyed teacup, you couldn’t help but laugh, especially when Sullivan hung his head in an attempt to calm himself before he dared to reply.

“It’s fine,” he responded gruffly, jaw clenching as he stared at the locked door, willing the sergeant to leave. But he had no such luck.

“It’s just-” Goodfellow spoke once more, reluctant to finish the sentence. Clearing his throat he tried again. “It’s just, Father Brown is here to see you, says he has information about the case.”

The sigh that came from Sullivan was clearly audible, even through the locked door, and had you laughing once more; his quick glance of irritation at your reaction only adding to your amusement.

“You might want to give it a minute,” you suggested quietly, gesturing to the mess that surrounded you with a nod of your head. Another sigh, softer this time, resigned and tired, and he called out to Goodfellow, saying he’d be out in a moment.

With a sympathetic smile, equally annoyed to have been interrupted, you hopped down from your spot on the desk, righting your dress as you did so. “Come on,” you spoke softly, running the tips of your fingers gently over his clenched fist, distracting him ever so slightly from his anger. “We better clean this up, I don’t really need everyone thinking I’m corrupting their dear inspector, now, do I?”

A small chortle of laughter was all the response he offered, but with a small smile remaining on his lips, you counted it as something of a win as you began to pick up the scattered papers with his help. It hardly took a moment to right the room, although you were certain your sorting of the file was anything but accurate, and suddenly your moment was over. Reality called from the other side of the doorway, he’d be back at work and you’d be left to settle in to the small bed and breakfast you were planning on staying in for the near future, and your short escape would be only a memory.

“I should go,” you sighed, checking your appearance in the mirror to make sure nothing would give away your less than proper activities with the inspector. With a final nod of approval, both confirming you looked acceptable and mentally willing yourself forwards, you moved towards the door.

Your hand hovered over the doorknob, ready but not willing to unlock it for the priest to enter in your place. With a soft smile back at Sullivan who was watching you with a tinge of sadness in his own smile, you noticed something that seemed to cut through that melancholic feeling that had settled in the pit of your stomach.

Unlocking the door behind you, you offered him a true smile, barely holding back a chuckle of laughter as you did so. “Oh, and darling? You’ve got lipstick on you,” you grinned, your free hand pointing to your own lips, mirroring where the smudge of your bright red lipstick sat on his lips, before quickly darting out of the room, closing the door behind you.

#Inspector Sullivan #inspector sullivan x reader #inspector sullivan imagine #father brown #father brown imagine #father brown bbc #father brown fic #my fic

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euphoriahrs · 3 years

Text

bittersweet | jjk [i.may]

» pairing: manhwa artist!jeongguk x oc

» genre: roommate au

» synopsis: it’s easier to act indifferent than to show vulnerability.

» word count: 2.2k

» disclaimer: contains strong language, but very little

» rated pg 13

*lowercase is intended*

[series mlist]

chapters: i. | ii. | iii. | iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | viii. | ix. | x. | xi. | xii.

a/n: this is my first book, so don’t forget to reblog and let me know what you think about it!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 late spring heat welcomed haewon’s skin as she exited the apartment building with a satisfied smirk and made her way to the park.

the town that she lived in was not that far from the city but close enough so she could go anytime she wanted. it was more peaceful in this town whereas, in the city, there was commotion all day and night.

since she was little, she loved being alone with her thoughts in silence. during her school years, she was okay with being a loner. sure she had friends she would hang out with from time to time, but she preferred having time to herself. now that was something that she rarely had the privilege of having since she moved into her apartment and got a job.

the complex that she stayed in was well kept, not the best of the best, but good enough. the rent was manageable since she shared the apartment with a roommate that she had gotten to know during the past couple of months. the roommate in question was a special case, one that she either enjoyed or despised, but mostly despised.

her legs unconsciously strolled past the numerous buildings on the streets, though one, in particular, caught her eye, one that she hadn’t noticed before. letting curiosity take over, she decided to take a detour and have a peek at the building.

when she got closer it turned out to be an ice cream parlor. the building had a cute but simple modern style to it.

a bell rang as she walked in alarming the worker that there was a customer. she looked around, noticing the green and white modern furniture.

“hello! welcome to rocky’s road!” the girl greeted in a bored state.

haewon glanced at the girl, she was quite pretty, she had a cute girl next door appearance. she was average height, maybe shorter, with honey skin, straight black hair, brown doe eyes, and cute round lips.

haewon, who had slightly sharper features and a slightly darker skin tone, with dark hair that was dyed with ash purple highlights that was always kept in a ponytail, gave her a more mature appearance compared to the girl.

“hi,” haewon approached the register with a small smile. enjoying the smell of fresh waffle cones. “what can i get you today?” the girl asked.

haewon glanced at her name tag, yujin, then directed her attention to the menu on the wall. feeling slightly overwhelmed as there were so many different flavors and combinations to choose from, she continued to stare at the possibilities.

yujin noticed her struggle. “i recommend our special the rocky mountains, which is three scoops of our homemade rocky road in a waffle bowl with drizzled chocolate syrup on the bottom two scoops, marshmallow sauce drizzled on all three and chocolate chips sprinkled all over!” she excitedly explained.

haewon rubbed her chin contemplating whether she should get the treat or not.

after a couple of seconds, she grinned, “sure, i’ll take one of those.”

“that’ll be $4.74. you won’t regret it!” yujin chimed. haewon half smiled, “i hope i won’t,” she paused and adds, “has this place always been here?” still wondering why she hasn’t noticed it before.

“no, we just opened a couple of days ago. there used to be another restaurant here, i don’t remember what it was, but I do know that they ran out of business after drunken fights repeatedly happened and it ruined their image, so no one wanted to dine in,” yujin replied preparing the ice cream.

haewon let out a soft ‘oh’ and walked away to one of the chairs close by. she looked around to get more familiar with her surroundings and pulled out her phone to play a game to help pass time.

suddenly it felt like all of the air was pushed out of her lungs when she remembered what the building used to be. this building used to be the pizzeria that she had been wanting to visit since she moved to this area but never had the time to due to the schedule of her job.

she let out a heavy sigh and turned off her phone not being in the mood to play her game anymore. she dropped her head onto the table to cope with the pain. yujin shot her head up to make sure her customer was okay before focusing back on work.

“i was hoping that i’ll get a chance to eat there soon,” haewon internally groaned. that was the only place that seemed to have decent pizza in this town. she groaned again when another wave of sadness and regret washed over her as she grieved.

a few minutes passed and yujin brings out her finished ice cream and smiled cheerfully, “here’s your order,” she paused, “earlier it seemed as if you were upset about that restaurant not being here anymore. i’m sorry for that, but now you have the parlor that you can come to anytime you like,” she smiled cheekily, “so your next order will be on the house,” trying to cheer the girl up.

haewon was about to object the offer but yujin continued to speak, “i’m actually new to this town and haven’t had the chance to meet anyone yet because i’ve been busy working and organizing my apartment… so would you like to possibly hang out sometime?” she perked with puppy eyes.

haewon froze for a second thinking yujin was coming off a little too strong but thought about how she needed new friends as well. she lost contact with her old friends from high school after they all graduated. she was the only one to lose contact with them, they on the other hand, were all still great friends and went to the same college. but due to her habits of not wanting to talk to anyone, she didn’t try to keep in touch with her friends even if she felt that she should’ve.

haewon nodded at yujin’s request not wanting her to be upset if she didn’t give her an answer in a few seconds.

yujin squealed, “i’m sure that you know my name already, but it’s yujin.”

haewon answered, “and i’m haewon.”

the two chatted for a little longer before haewon remembered that she wanted to go to the park, so they said their goodbyes and she was on her way.

she ate her ice cream on the way enjoying the peaceful outdoors around her, the calm before the storm she thought . her smile transformed into a smirk when she thought about what she did earlier that morning.

when the park was in sight, her thoughts quickly went away, excited to finally be able to reach her destination.

she skipped her way to the park, weaving through running kids to get to the abandoned set of swings that she found on a whim when she first moved into the area.

☽ ⋆ ☾

it was a brighter night than usual with the light of the full moon shining down. haewon thought that it was the perfect night to explore the new area, so she grabbed her phone and left the apartment that her residing roommate was currently knocked out in.

she casually strolled through the streets enjoying the quiet night and being in her thoughts when a playground across the street caught her interest. quickening her pace to cross the road, her feet made contact with the sidewalk and continued towards the playground.

she was looking around reminiscing to when she was a kid playing on the slides, chasing and tormenting other kids with bugs and worms when she noticed a silhouette in a wooded area not too far away from where she was. she headed deeper into the area, stepping on sticks and dead leaves on the way to search for what the object was.

carefully, she stepped closer until it was in view. it was a swing set. that had been left to rust and be forgotten, to spend the rest of its time falling apart until it was completely in shambles.

she was walking towards the set when she froze in place. there was a shuffling noise coming out of the bushes close by. her eyes widened and the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up.

“it’s close to midnight, who would be out at- oh yeah, me.” she quivered. trying to calm down, she blindly tried to search the area but wasn’t very effective because the trees blocked most of the moonlight. so she waited a few seconds to see if the noise was going to reoccur before continuing to walk to the swings.

she didn’t even get to take five steps before there was another shuffle coming from the bushes.

she jumped in surprise and failed to land on her feet with a thud, mumbling a stream of explicit words as she got up. then she remembered that she took taekwondo and silently thanked the gods that her dad forced her to take those lessons back in middle school.

“i’ll have to thank dad later,” she pondered. feeling somewhat prepared, she stood up, dusted the back of her pants off, and got in position ready for anything that could come out of that bush.

a figure slowly started to creep out causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up even further than before, if that was possible.

her nervous thoughts rapidly shot through her mind. trying as hard as she could to block them out, she quietly hummed a random melody that she thought of on the spot.

her eyes locked onto where the target currently was. the small amount of moonlight allowed her to at least see the silhouette of the figure.

after a few moments, the figure finally sprinted out. quickly gathering up her courage, haewon dashed right towards the figure but stopped midway letting out the breath that she didn’t know she was holding in.

“a cat?” she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in agitation.

“a cat got me that scared? a fucking cat?!” she exasperated. a few moments passed in silence so she could gather her thoughts. her whole life flashed before her eyes just because of a cat?

“boo!” she quickly spun in the direction of the voice only to find an older man that looked to be in his fifties standing proudly with his coat opened in his hands.

“wha-” she screamed with terror after she realized what she was witnessing while covering her not so virgin eyes.

in a split second, she ran at full speed towards the man. who once had a sly grin, now was shocked in place as she lunged her knee at his exposed balls and scurried her way back to the apartment.

☽ ⋆ ☾

she spotted the woods and ran for the swings.

while eating the rest of her ice cream, she listened to the late morning conversations of the birds along with the trees rustling in the background, shifting the sun’s rays. butterflies, dragonflies, and other little insects flew through the empty spaces filled with the sun’s rays, weaving through trees and other bugs. occasionally, she would see a butterfly or two become a bird’s lunch. the moving sun rays gently radiated off her skin as she looked at the ladybug that was chilling on the seat beside her. she enjoyed the relaxing ambiance before it was to be interrupted.

haewon got off of the swing and headed to the recycling bin for plastic to dump her empty ice cream bowl away. as she walked back to the swings suddenly a song from her favorite band the rose interrupted the conversations that took place around her.

a toothy grin appeared on her face. she looked at the time on her small wristwatch. it was about time that her roommate would decide to wake up since it was the weekend.

she grabbed her phone from her back pocket, her grin turning into the one the cheshire cat possesses and accepted the call. but before she could answer, a husky livid voice boomed through the speaker, “haewon! what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

her smirk not faltering one bit “what’s wrong?” she asked with her voice laced in fake concern and chuckling to herself, “this isn’t funny haewon! you’re as good as dead when you come back,” the voice shouted with irritation. haewon burst into laughter. her boisterous laugh combined with the booming voice coming from her phone occupied the area around her.

“don’t- don’t act like your the innocent one here,” she tried to say in between laughs still imagining how he must look being upset over such a harmless prank.

a few moments later and she’s hunched over with tears stained on her face. she heard her name being said on the other side of the phone. “see ya” she breathed heavily and hung up feeling too tired to talk to them anymore.

after she caught her breath and cleared her mind, she stood back up and wiped her face before making a beeline to the apartment ready to embrace the storm or maybe just a squall that she had awakened.

#bittersweet #bts #bts jungkook #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts series #bts wattpad #bts au #wattpad #jungkook series #jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #euphoriahrs

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toloveawarlord · 4 years

Text

The Best Detective

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Event: Arthur’s Birthday Bash [Closed]

Characters: Arthur & Alara

Requester: @thetwinkims

Tagging: @plumpblueberry

A/N: Nikki! I hope you enjoy a little Arthur and Alara! She is turning into one of my favorite kids to write!

The quiet morning he’d intended to spend writing had dissolved into a most peculiar case. His favorite little human had burst into his room with tear-filled eyes and gave the most pitiful whine of his name. Something incredibly precious to her had to gone missing, but the timing couldn’t be coincidence.

His assumption proved correct when he accompanied her back to her bedroom and found a letter taped to her mirror. Intended for him, as it was well out of the little girl’s reach. “What do we have here?” Plucking up and unfolding the parchment, he scanned the contents.

“Does it say where it is?” Alara stood up on her tiptoes to get a glimpse of the words scribbled on the page. Her reading skills were subpar, something that she worked on daily and only a few of the words were legible for her.

At the very bottom, the signature of James Moriarty had been poorly forged, but the message clear. A challenge to find the missing crown jewel, which so happened to be the metal flower crown that belonged to Alara. “It would seem that we have some sleuthing to do, love.”

Alara pursed her lips in response.

“You can be my assistant, like Watson is to Sherlock.” Arthur offered a comparison that would make sense to her. As much as he detested the bloke, he would shove down those bitter emotions to lift the girl’s spirits.

“I guess I can do that.” Not quite ecstatic, like he’d expected her to be. Her disinterest in being Watson intrigued him. Alara loved to have the writer read stories to her before bed, and she enjoyed his Holmes series, so the almost annoyed expression on her features was unexpected.

The clue quite simple. No effort had actually gone into it, likely in order to let the child be included in the deciphering. “A room of knowledge, find the next location behind the thinned wood with a red rose. Where do you suppose we should check?”

Pale green eyes slid to the side, the girl crouching down to pet Vic’s soft, curly fur. Her silence only proving that something else bothered her besides the missing crown. As she let the dog lick her hand, she gave her reply, “The library. Isaac gets books from there a lot.”

“Brilliant. Shall we go?” Arthur extended his gloved hand to her with a warm smile. Children were always quite easy to read but he couldn’t fathom why the mention of her being his Watson for the day would upset her.

“Can we bring Vic?”

Vic gave a bark of agreement and rubbed his head into her palm for more pets.

“Why, I think that’s a grand idea. Come along, Vic. We have a mystery to solve,” Arthur said. Her small hand held onto his large one, but even as they approached the next destination her mood didn’t lift.

As he’d thought, the next piece of this charade was laid out on the table. This was merely a distraction for the writer. He almost wanted to spill the secret to Alara, as she had been made a pawn, unaware that her missing crown was taken by the other residents, as they knew she’d come straight to him for help.

No. He wouldn’t tell her until after the revelation of her sour mood.

A book rested on the table with a fresh rose on top of it. Sticking from the pages was yet another clue. It led them out to the garden and yet another to the gazebo for the final clue to find the prize. Before he picked up the envelope, Arthur set the girl on the bench, sinking to one knee to be eye level with her. “Alright, love, I can’t handle that sad expression a second longer.”

Alara swung her legs a little, gaze flickering around, not settling on anything in particular.

“Did you want to be sherlock?” Though he hated speaking those words, it must have been that. He detested how much everyone adored Sherlock and of course, kids would choose to be him. He’d even witnessed some of the kids in town argue over who would have the honor being the brilliant detective.

Pale green eyes turned to him, narrowed slightly. “No.”

Arthur waited to hear what she would say next, but he never would have been prepared for it.

“Why can’t you be Arthur and I be Alara? I like you much better than Sherlock.” The genuine confusion mixed with mild anger nearly made him laugh.

“You don’t like Sherlock?”

Alara reached up and placed her palms on his cheeks. “I do like Sherlock in his stories. But I like Arthur in real life. Sherlock wouldn’t have wanted to help me and he doesn’t read me stories or take care of me when I’m sick. I wanted you to help me find the crown.”

That reasoning hadn’t ever crossed his mind. How adorable this little thing could be. The surprise on his features melted into delight. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” It was atypical for her to be so quiet about her thoughts.

“Theo said it’s your birthday, so I have to do whatever you want.”

The writer chuckled, the whole situation becoming more amusing with each second. To have such faith from the little girl warmed his heart. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I much prefer you to Watson as well.” Had anyone ever told him that they liked him more than Sherlock?

The heaviness that had been over her lifted like the clouds moving away from the bright sun. Alara grinned, leaning forward to place a kiss on his nose. “So, we can be us again?”

“Yes, brilliant plan. I’ll wager the culprit to the theft is quite near.”

He much preferred her lively and happy like this, giggling and playful. Arthur was never bored with Alara around, always throwing in child logic and changing the rules he’d become familiar with. He’d bested Sherlock, in a way. And that was an incredible feeling.

#arthur's birthday bash #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #alara bayar #she adores her arthur

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charliesworkshop · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Song of the day: Hurts - Something I Need To Know

Chapter warnings: angst, a lot of angst tbh, cheating if you squint, imma say abusive relationship just so there won't be any surprises

AN: Series of smutty / angsty fics inspired by songs by the band Hurts. Mostly angsty, because I'm a sucker for pain.

Reader is an Avenger with the power to create and control fire, and as they say, opposite attracts, so Loki takes interests in her.

MASTERLIST 🌹

Loki had a lot of patience. He just didn't like to use it, not when it was about things he really wanted. In this case he wanted to know what the fuck was going on between you and him.

You've been on one date so far, if you can call watching a movie and drinking whisky in the Avnegers' Tower a date.

You've shared few kisses, stolen in those rare moment when you've been left alone, hasty and innocent, nothing more than two pairs of uncertain lips brushing against each other.

But it was enough for his heart to quicken its pace whenever he thought of your soft, warm lips on his. The memory of your taste lingering in his mind long after you've left.

He assumed everything was going well, but then you suddenly stopped texting him back, ignored all his calls, and it's been almost a week since the two of you talked.

It would be much easier if you lived in the tower, but you were politely refusing moving in every time someone suggested it, jokingly saying that you didn't pay hell of a price for your own place only to abandon it after two years.

But it wasn't that hard to find out where you lived, it only took few hours of convincing and a promise to his brother that he won't do anything stupid or irresponsible with that information, and Thor asked Stark about it.

Gathering enough courage to actually go and see you was entirely different story. He really wanted to talk, to understand why you acted like this, but on the other hand, he had no rights to violate your privacy like that.

It was eating him alive, though, the fear that he did something wrong, that he somehow offended you, was creeping underneath his skin, present in his every breath, thought, beat of his heart. He was scared he's hurt you in some way, that he made you leave him.

It took him two days to finally snap. Whatever the truth was, he needed to know, for the sake of his sanity. And it was obvious you were hiding something from him.

It was Friday evening when he decided he's ready to talk to you, he was drinking Asgardian mead Thor brought from home, going through everything he said and did around you, and he couldn't find a single reason why would you ignore him.

He was tired of suspicions, tired of wondering why.

So he ordered a cab and went to see you in your flat in Hell's Kitchen, so sure of what he's going to say, so sure...

Until you opened the doors, dressed in an oversized sweater and nothing more, your hair messy, mascara smudged around reddened eyes, eyelashes still clumped with tears that already dried on your cheeks.

And all words escaped him in a split second, his heart dropping to his stomach, heavy, drumming, aching.

"It's really not a good time," you spoked in hoarse voice, barely above whisper, but it cut through air like a whip.

"Is it... Is it because of me?" He would rip his heart out if he was the reason of your misery.

"Why...? No, no," you stammered looking everywhere but his face, "I'll explain everything, just... Tonight isn't a good time," you repeated this like a mantra, hoping that will be enough to make him go away. But the look on his face was telling you it won't work.

"Y/n, I need to know, please..." He was ready to beg you for an explanation, but then his gaze fell upon a bag lying on the floor next to a couch, overflowing with clothes.

Male clothes.

"What's going on?" His firm voice made you shudder, your shoulders slumped even more and you looked like if you wanted the ground to open and swallow you whole.

You knew he noticed, and there was nothing you could say to make things better. So you remained silent, gaze fixed on his shoes, your eyes filling with tears again.

No one was supposed to know about this, about your stupid ex who didn't want to leave your flat for weeks now. Especially not Loki.

You planned on telling him about Derek, but after you're finally free from him, after you fix the mess of this horrible break up.

"Do you... Are you in a relationship with someone else, y/n?" You could hear the hurt in his voice, how he swallowed hard, it's must have been really difficult for him to ask this.

"Not anymore... We broke up two weeks ago for good," you answered honestly, a sigh leaving your trembling lips as you looked up at him.

It was over. You couldn't hide it anymore and Loki deserved better, much better. All of his emotions were written on his pale face, paler than usual, more tired and troubled, you noticed.

You knew what's going to happen next, so his outburst didn't surprise you. But it didn't hurt less just because you were prepered.

"Two weeks...? Two weeks?!" You stepped back, watching him with fear as he stalked you, closing the gap between you two, until you had nowhere else to run, back of your legs hitting the armrest of the couch. "You want to say you were with someone else when I kissed you for the first time?! How could you...?"

He knew he was probably overreacting, and that it was the alcohol speaking, but he was angry at you. He couldn't wrap his finger around what was going on in your head at that time when he kissed you for the first time, and then the second, and then another... And you were always kissing him back, despite having a boyfriend.

"I'm sorry, Loki... I didn't want to hurt you... I just didn't know how to tell you..."

"I wanted to know the truth, it's my fault," he laughed darkly, almost histerically, clenching and unclenching his fists over and over again, trying to calm down, to build a wall between you and him, his hurt feelings, and sarcasm was his way to do it. "I can't believe I actually thought I did something wrong."

"I know you're angry, but let me explain, please..." You wanted to make him understand, but it'd be very hard without telling him all the details of your previous relationship, without admitting how fucked up it was, how much you wanted to escape it. To the point that when Loki made a move... you didn't fight it.

"What, y/n? What do you want to explain? I already know everything," he half snarled, half laughed at you, and you could feel hot tears stinging your eyes.

"I'm sorry, okay? I fucked up, I know..." your throat was tight as you fought the tears, the clearly audible crack in your voice threatening to break your ability to speak. But you swallowed the lump in your throat, bravely looked up at his face, and continued, "You have all rights to be angry, but just listen..."

"You cheated on your boyfriend with me, y/n," he interrupted you once again, and suddenly, you got angry as well, "Prove me wrong."

You knew he was right, that he was hurt by your actions, by you ignoring him for a week, you really knew and understood... But something about him not listening made you so, so angry in that moment, because he knew the feeling of being misunderstood, he knew how it it feels when no one listens, no one lets you explain.

"I didn't cheat," you snapped at him, all those bottled for weeks feelings finally finding their outlet, and you felt good and bad at the same time, but it was too late to stop, so you continued, "I can't cheat on someone who's never here when I need them. I can't cheat on someone who's just using me as a stress relief and never listens to what I want! You think you know everything..." you smiled with sorrow, your brows knitted, folding arms on your chest, "But the truth is you know nothing about me. And you definitely know nothing about him," you finished with an angry huff, unfolding your arms and walking around Loki to your doors to open them wider. "You should go."

"Y/n, I had no idea," he muttered, turning around to face you, but you've had enough, you've made your mind.

"Yeah, but you decided to judge me anyway, so go. I already told you it's not a good time," your voice was cold, firm, he never heard it before, he didn't even know you were able to sound so aggressively. "He'll be here soon to pick up his shit. I have enough problems without him knowing about you."

You were no longer looking at him, and the entire anger clouding his mind faded away when he noticed how your shoulders trembled under the weight of anger, guilt, and sadness.

"Y/n... I'm sorry... You should've told me..."

"I want you out of my house, I won't repeat myself," you threatened, glancing at him, your eyes flashing red for a second, but you managed to control the fire spreading through your veins, only your fingertips were burning, foreboding flames that were soon to burst out of your clenched fist. "Don't come here again."

He wasn't going to challenge his luck, knowing that with your powers you can easily hurt him very badly, even kill him if you really wanted. So he walked passed you, his lips pursed, as he took in the sight of your broken face.

"I'm sorry," he only said again, and then left you alone, the sound of slamming of your front doors echoing long in his ears.

So after all, he was the one who fucked things up. And only because he didn't listen.

Tag list: @someonekeepstakingmyusernames

So... first of all, sorry it took so long, I'm struggling with a writer's block, but I really wanted to finally finish and post this. It turned out more angsty than I intended, and I promise the next parts are gonna be better. I have no one to check for mistakes and grammar errors, and I typed it on my phone, so I'm sorry if there are any. Dunno when I'll write the next part, hopefully sooner than later. I hope you enjoyed it anyway! <3

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #reader insert #angst #loki angst #loki x reader angst #the road #something I need to know #hurts #fanfic #fanfiction #charliesworkshop

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naitiaclo960writings · 5 years

Text

Day 18 - Food

- "I’m gonna die." Dean sighed dramatically, weak voice and misty gaze.

Castiel rolled his eyes to the sky and watched the formless shape that was actually Dean through the table.

- "Dean, it’s just a bad flu." He said pouting.

- "No. That, Cas, is the beginning of my end. My nails will fall and my brain will flow through my ears because of the fever and I will die. I saw it on TV." Dean continued while tightening the blanket around his shoulders, weakly staring at an invisible spot in the middle of the table before coughing horribly. He winced.

- "You were watching a horror movie when you saw that, Dean.

- So what? It’s still a terrible way to die."

Castiel could not prevent a small smile from appearing on his lips and his gaze became compassionate when the hunter sneezed again.

Dean growled, feeling a dizziness assailing his heavy head after almost knocking himself on the table while sneezing. If he hadn’t had the damn flu, he’d already be hunting werewolves with Sam in Montana. But Sam had, of course, categorically refused to take him while saying that a hunter had to be in good shape and alert to hunt such a creature without risking getting killed. So he condemned Dean to stay in the bunker while he went hunting with Claire and Jody. Fortunately for Dean, Castiel had offered to stay with him to keep him company, but the only distraction they had had so far was the half-hour blackout last night. Since then, Castiel had undertaken to read at least one entire shelf of the library while Dean crashed up in every available corner of the bunker. It sucked to be sick.

Dean finally stretched out a feverish hand to the box of paper handkerchiefs not far from him, still under Castiel’s gaze, before blowing his nose with all the grace that such an action could offer. He then rolled the used tissue in his hand and let his head fall between his arms on the table, letting out a complaint only a little exaggerated.

From the other end of the table, Castiel tilted his head, a strange feeling of tenderness and protection taking hold of him when he saw the hunter so weak and vulnerable. Dean was buried under at least two big blankets and yet he still saw his shoulders shaking on either side of his head. Castiel had witnessed the creation of just about every disease on Earth, and although the flu was no longer the deadliest in this world, he did not wish it on anyone. He knew the symptoms and even how to treat them, but at this stage of the disease, he could do nothing but wait for Dean’s immune system to take over.

The angel lower a sad look on his hands on the table. He bitterly regretted that time when it would have been enough to touch Dean’s forehead to simply put him back on his feet, perhaps even he would have taken the opportunity to treat this painful knee that he had when it rained or this twisted finger that he had obtained during a fight against a poltergeist. But Metatron had still not told him where his grace was, and even the mere fact of staying awake for more than seventy-two hours was difficult for him. In the end, he’s been more human than angel lately. Of course, if Dean had asked him, he wouldn’t have hesitated to burn his last supply to save him a few days of illness, but they both knew the hunter would never do that.

Castiel finally drove away his dark thoughts — what was the point of complaining about it now anyway? — and worked hard to find a way to help his friend without his powers. After several minutes, he finally rose from his chair without a sound and disappeared into the lobby.

Dean barely raised his head when he heard him leave, but he could not prevent a certain sense of disappointment from seizing him. Being sick was not fun, but being sick and alone was even less. Doesn’t matter in the end that Castiel spent most of his free time with him immersed in books, the simple fact of knowing that he was not far away and that he was looking out for him helped him to grin and bear it.

Maybe Cas got tired of him? If he did, he could get it. Staying all day with the kind of mess that he had become for three days should hardly be restful. Maybe he was just looking for a place where no one sniffed every 30 seconds? Probably.

Dean remained for a long time in the same position, only emerging to blow his nose or sneeze without risking hitting the table. Maybe he could wind up in the Dean cave later and watch a good movie? Maybe Cas would agree to do that with him? In any case, that sounded good. Dean had no idea how long he remained there, wallowing in self-pity, before he heard the significant footsteps of Castiel returning to the library.

As he raised his head to lean on his chin, Castiel laid a large bowl of hot soup before him without saying much. Dean raised an eyebrow and straightened up slightly to observe the contents of the bowl, intrigued. Inside slowly smoked a solid mixture of a deep orange, some bubbles bursting imperiously on the edges of the bowl.

- "What is this?" Asked Dean while standing up completely on his chair, sniffing the bowl as if he could smell the subtle odor of food.

Castiel raised one hand to the back of his neck and lowered his eyes, obviously uncomfortable. He took the time to sit in the chair next to Dean’s before answering.

- "Tomato rice soup." He simply said. "I know your mother used to make it when you were sick. That’s what you said once."

Dean lifted up his eyes as Castiel resolutely stared at the bowl of soup, as if he had not just turned Dean’s universe inside down with one mere action. How did Cas always remember everything? Hell, how could he be so nice and considerate to the people around him?

- "I used a recipe on the Internet, so I don’t think it will be as good as what Mary used to prepare for you… But I thought it might help with your cough and-

- Cas?" Dean cut him off, because he felt that the angel intended to continue babbling.

Castiel raised his head and nervously moistened his lips by crossing his eyes. Dean simply rolled up the corner of his lips into a soft, touched smile. Knowing that Castiel had made the effort to think of something that could bring him comfort just because he was a little sick moved him in the best possible way. The people who had already done this for him in his life were counting on the fingers of one hand and he was strangely satisfied to know that Cas was one of them. He quietly bitted the inside of his cheek.

- "I think I really want to kiss you, like, right now?" And maybe if he had had a little less fever, he would never have dared say that, or maybe he was just really grateful to be sick to finally stop his brain from filtering out everything he wanted to say to Cas.

Castiel opened his eyes wide surprised, his eyebrows rising very high before his face softened and he gave the impression of being about to burst into laughter.

- "I think that would be acceptable." He replied with the same tone, leaning slightly towards the hunter with a small smile on his lips.

- "Good." Dean said as he fills the distance between the two of them before fondly seizing on his lips, breaking eye contact with the angel only to close his eyes and appreciate the sensation.

It was by far the most disorderly kiss that Dean shared, Castiel visibly hesitating as to what he had to do and letting Dean lead him as he struggled to breathe with his blocked nose. But it was also by far the most perfect and they only part a few centimeters once the moment passed. Dean smiles frankly.

- "You’re going to be sick." Dean hummed.

- “Angels don’t get sick Dean.”

- “How convenient…"

He kissed him again and swallowed Castiel’s smile.

* * *

@winchester-reload More fluff for this one! Hope you liked it ^^. Please feel free to come and say hi if you want to talk about the prompts of the Suptober or anything else, really. Until next time!

You can check my masterlist for the Suptober 2019 here

Tagging peoples cause why not :

@aliceollormusic @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @styggtroll @thanks-tacos @petrichoravellichor @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @ladywaywarddsc@hellfire37 @didnt-survive-twist-and-shout @destiel-221b-sabriel @aloha-cowgirl @alexia-kline-winchester @destielhoneybee @mylifeisbrulette@dysfunctional-destiel @ozonecologne @doofcas @castielrisingabove@zoerayne2426 @tibbinswrites @naomishamiga @vicmc624 @thegirlofstarlight@berrieseveryday @staycejo1 @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

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whumpqhs · 4 years

Text

Shrouded Shield, 1

Because I totally needed another story to work on...

If you sent an ask or tag, I do have a list for responding! I’ve been swamped lately with work and such. Sorry!

Yes, I still plan to continue my other writing, promise! I just wanted to get this down first.

Credit to @redwingedwhump for the setting this is in. Thanks!

TW: I’m not exactly sure how to tag this, because it’s not exactly dubcon or noncon, but this story contains parts where someone has to act like they’re okay with being touched when the writing is clear about how uncomfortable it makes them. So take that as you will, and please be safe.

“Gana?”

“Hm?”

“How’d you get that?”

Riva was pointing at the binding mark on the inside of her forearm. After today, she’d always remember to wrap both arms--for warmth, if you asked her. Right now, all she could do was silently curse herself for not thinking to cover it.

“You know what it is?”

“Yeah. It’s from the… the thing you bound yourself to.” This was, they’d established earlier that evening, Riva’s first encounter with a warlock. She was still talking to Marigana, and she’d been trying to act like nothing had changed, but her expressions were tight and her body was tense. Like she was afraid of being sacrificed on some altar somewhere.

“Yeah. Um… it’s a long story.” Marigana rubbed her fingertips over the mark, flat to her skin like a tattoo, or a birthmark. She wanted to give her (former?) friend one last chance to decide that, actually, she was better off not knowing.

“That’s okay.” Although it clearly made her nervous, Riva scooted closer. “I mean… If you’re okay with telling me.”

“...yeah. I’m okay. Do you… know whose mark it is?”

Riva shook her head. Her short dark hair flew back and forth with each twist. Marigana, against her better judgement, shifted over and stretched out her arm. Now both of them were tense.

“Alxaka. She’s… a demoness… according to some people. To others she’s an evil goddess. Some say she’s neither; instead, they think she's a powerful fae, strong enough to grant powers just like if she were a god.”

"...oh."

She looked up briefly at Riva’s fearful, fascinated eyes, then said quietly, “You, um, can touch it if you want, it won’t hurt you.” She didn’t want anyone touching her, anywhere, much less her mark. It was the offering that was important; the willingness. She had to look safe. Nonthreatening. “And it won't make you turn evil, or anything.”

She’d been expecting a refusal, a murmur of Oh no, that’s alright, so she could feel justified in putting her arm back. Instead, Riva stretched out a careful, quivering hand. She brushed over the mark with her own fingertips, and Marigana kept her face and body perfectly still.

“It doesn’t feel any different than the rest of your skin.”

“Nope. It’s just like a birthmark.”

“Your skin, it’s really hot. Are you too close to the fire, do you want to move?”

“Oh, um, no. I just… am like that, heh.” She gave Riva a sheepish grin as if to say, Sorry for my body temperature! And drew her arm back.

“...Alsaka?”

“Al-tsa-ka.”

“What do you think she is?”

“Me? I think she’s fae. Legend says she walked the fires of Hell itself to rescue one of her faithful, to take back what was hers. I don’t think a goddess would upset the rest of the pantheon that way. But a fae wouldn’t care.”

Riva nodded, solemnly. Marigana hoped she was satisfied, but she piped up again, “So--how did you get… how…”

“How did I bind myself to her?”

Silent nodding, at first, and then she added, “If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” She smiled, making the expression relaxed. “It’s alright.” She couldn’t have secrets. Secrets made them afraid of you. Everything had to be offered, and okay to investigate. She had to make sure they felt safe. “Um, I was… I’d just turned eighteen. I had a really bad fight, with my parents.” Not completely untrue. And Riva started nodding, even relaxing a bit. This, she understood.

“Ohh. Over a boy?”

“Uh--yes. Mhm.” She nodded back, managing a sheepish little laugh. Now, that part was an outright lie. There had been no boy, no boy in her village wanted aught to do with her. There had been men, certainly, strange men with heavy chains who showed up at the door. Who’d heard from a reliable informant that there was a changeling lurking about. Who intended, as all good Iron Priests intended, to cleanse the land of evil… which, in this case, meant her.

Her father, the reliable informant, had opened the door to let them in. By now the panic of the memory had faded, but the hurt and betrayal still twisted in her chest when she thought about it.

“So--you left home?”

“Huh? Oh. Uh, yes.”

“That must have been hard.”

Riva was looking at her, but she didn’t seem quite so afraid. Her eyes were soft, and her body wasn’t so tense.

“It… it was. Yes.” She absently chewed at her lip as she remembered the crowded house full of running feet, the shouting, the chaos. And, before that, the thick frozen shock that was almost worse. How her father’s mouth formed a hard line when he looked at her. How it was one of the priests who broke the spell, turning to him, confused.

“You said there was a changeling. I don’t see one.”

“It’s her--I told you, she looks human. With that sigil. Mari, show him.”

She remembered the desperation, how she’d thought maybe if she complied things would go better. It felt dangerous to let go of her control, but she did it, cutting the power to the sigil that made her look human like everyone else. Letting them see her claws, and deep violet skin, and glowing eyes. Her long ears and the broken bits of tissue that had once been horns.

“That’s not a changeling--” one of the priests started.

Another cut in, “But we’ll take her.”

“No!”

The voice came from behind her, she remembered hearing it and knowing it was her mother but being unable to understand why. She thought of them as her father and mother, but that wasn’t true, was it? She’d taken the place of their real daughter. Her mother had told her so. Many times. They would never see their real daughter ever again, thanks to her; all they had was this… cheap imitation. This misplaced bit of fae.

“No? Why not?” Another one of the priests. He lifted those heavy chains and they clanked together, discordant, harsh. “Surely you want rid of that thing--”

“You can’t take my daughter!” Her mother’s voice had been thick with emotion. It had barely registered over the shock that rushed through her, stinging like icy water. She’d never been called anyone’s daughter before. Her mother had always been very clear that she was not their child.

“You can't have her! I won’t let you!”

“...your daughter? I thought she was a changeling?”

"She is. It's…" Her father shook his head. “She’s--um, my wife, you know, she’s easily upset. She gets confused.” But his expression hadn't matched. She remembered later how it was testy, tense. As if he was discovering something he didn’t like one bit. “It’s alright, I’ll help you get her into custody. Come here, Mari. Now.”

“--listening to me?”

“Huh?”

Riva patted her shoulder. Lots of practice kept her still and relaxed, as if she didn’t mind being touched.

“You were lost for a minute there. I said… what happened after you left?”

“Oh. Um… well, it was winter. I ran into the woods… didn’t really have a plan, I was just so upset.” Panicked was more like it. Terrified. Upset would come later.

Riva nodded as if wanting her to go on. She couldn’t explain to the girl--her friend, still?--that she was tired, that remembering this made her ache. That it drove her sleep into a fractured mess, reliving that night, that she’d be dreaming about it… because she couldn’t say no. Everything had to be offered up. Including her most painful memories.

“Um, it was cold. I come from up north, it was freezing… snowy…” And oh how she hated the cold. She just wasn’t built for it. She remembered how it felt, running out of the house without her coat or scarf; like jumping into a frozen lake. The cold had stabbed into her like thousands of needles. “It was… I didn’t have time to get anything warm for myself, I just left. It was so cold it hurt, the air hurt… it was painful to breathe. I ran for as long as I could.”

“You poor thing.”

Marigana blinked and looked up at her, watching her face. She seemed sincere enough. Of course, Riva thought she was talking to another human like herself, not a changeling with a convenient illusion spell. Most assuredly, that would have changed her reaction.

“I… I’m okay. Um…” she tried to focus, to get through the telling so she could be done. “...they didn't come looking for me…”

“Oh,” said Riva, as if this were another tragedy. She remembered the wash of relief she’d felt, staring out into the shadows and seeing no spark of firelight, no torches coming after her in the cold. But if you’d had loving parents, them not caring if you froze to death would be sad, of course. She just shrugged.

“It’s, it’s okay. Um, so--it was cold, I… didn’t have anything warm on.” This part of the memory was different. It didn’t hurt all that much, but it was heavy. Raw. “...I was freezing to death… um, I heard a voice. A woman. She said… it looked like I was one of hers. Said she could save me, so I could serve her cause.”

“And you said yes?”

“Mhm.” She nodded, looking at the mark again. Alxaka’s symbol was a shield, wrapped in a cloak. It made sense for the deliverer of undeserved luck and mercy. Protection, but not for anyone righteous or good. “I said yes. Suddenly I wasn’t cold anymore.” It wasn’t just physical warmth, though, that flooded into her when she accepted the offer. It was soothing, calming, a sense that she’d come home. That someone would protect her. Her eyes almost closed, remembering, trying to call that feeling up again. Lately it was so difficult. She tried… focused…

But Riva was still watching her.

“...um, she led me to this little cave. More of an overhang, I guess. It went far enough back that it was warm, and she gave me a spark for a fire. The next morning, I was able to make it to another village… then from there, I worked my way to this company.” It had been a lot more complicated than that, of course, but Riva hadn’t asked, and she was already so tired. She’d have to find somewhere lonesome to sleep tonight, in case her control over the sigil wavered or failed. If she looked anything less than human, she’d have a lot more problems than a nosy friend.

“That’s so sad…” Riva nodded to her, and patted her shoulder again. Still intent on setting her at ease, and making her feel safe, Marigana kept still, smiling as if she enjoyed the gesture, the contact. As if it didn’t make her want to flinch away. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Oh, uh, of course. You know me, I’m an open book.” She smiled. “No secrets.”

“That’s good. Friends shouldn’t have secrets from each other.” Riva stood and stretched. “Ahh, well, it’s time for my watch. Get some sleep, hm?”

“Yeah. Sure.” She nodded back, waiting until Riva had wandered off to her post before she stood and walked off in the opposite direction, finding somewhere out of the way to tuck herself into the shadows.

To all appearances, she was a perfectly normal human girl, twenty-or-so summers, sleeping under a thin woolen cloak. As her exhausted mind began descending into a nightmare about the Iron Priests, her last thought was the hope that she’d keep up those appearances until morning.

#whump #emotional whump #past trauma #general tw #cold weather whump #uncomfortable contact #nonhuman whumpee #but we're not gonna tell you what KIND of nonhuman yet #it is #a SURPRISE

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hoopdiddies · 5 years

Text

I'm Not Over You // Ben Hardy x Reader (Part 5)

A/N: Oh gosh, my stomach hurts. Question: Was it unlawful of me to pour the milk in before the cereal?

Anyway, enjoy part 5, I'll get to writing 6 by the time the bacteria in my digestive tract stop roughhousing uwu

Summary: You had always loved Ben ever since you two met in university and became the best of friends. That feeling went out like a candle flame when the two of you parted ways until he re-entered your life...but this time with someone who has already occupied his heart.

Warnings: Mentions of drinking and alcohol, angst, fluff and (jealousy?)

Word count: 3177 (oops?)

Tags: @mickmoon @ziggyspurplehaze I honestly need more people to permanently tag in this series, please let me know 😁

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

"What the hell, Y/N? Did you lose your way into the place?" One of your colleagues snigger at your delay in finding them. Eager to get this night done, you brush off his comment and pull out a seat next to him, finding yourself looking over where Ben is seated. Not a text or a call from him that would have 'warned' you that he'd be out for a drink in the exact same place you thought would help you eradicate 'that' problem. In hopes he wouldn't catch you or take heed of your presence, you turn away and participate in ordering your drinks, suppressing the urge to glance over your shoulder and blow your cover.

The waiter arrives with your orders and the rest holler in satisfaction as he distributes your drinks. You've ordered a martini but just because you decided to start with something light doesn't mean you'll stick with it in the following hours. It's just one night anyway, what have you got to lose?

Later on, Joe arrives at the pub alone, scrutinizing the place from top to bottom before marching in, straightening the collar of his button up shirt as his eyes rove every occupied table just to find you. To your demise, a large hand rests upon Joe's shoulder and spins him around, the hand belonging to an astonished Ben with a glass of whiskey in hand. "Mate! You're here!"

Joe's nonchalant expression flits into a surprised one at that, a little concerned on the inside since he knows you're here as well and he hasn't found you yet. "Ben, buddy! Great to see you again. " He throws an arm around Ben and pats his chest.

"You're back in London, what brings you here?" Ben asks, raising a thick, disheveled brow at him. Joe trails his bottom lip subtly with his finger as he debates on telling the truth or not, taking in account that you're here with your colleagues and nowhere did you mention anything about being with Ben.

But he just doesn't feel like lying to him, and so with a sincere apology reserved for you, he replies, "Y/N invited me over."

The crinkles under Ben's eyes fade out and he allows a stiffened sigh to slip past his lips with almost nothing more to add. "She's here?"

Joe nods as a matter of fact

"You two on a date?" The question sounds forced coming from Ben and Joe did not see that coming. He had forgotten that you had projected a fake relationship with him during Ben's birthday and now it came back hitting him like a mallet. He scratches the bridge of his nose awkwardly, avoiding Ben's scouring gaze. "Y-yeah, I gotta go find her, bud. We'll catch you later." In utter haste, Joe firmly pats Ben's shoulder before whisking past him to continue his search for you, leaving Ben standing a feet away from his own table, chewing over his thoughts. He snaps out and returns to his own circle, prompted to turn his head around the place to find you.

"Yes, I need another one of this!" You demand bluntly, slamming the seventh shot glass you've drunk from on the table but not hard enough to shatter it. You really stuck to your thoughts about intending to subject yourself to intoxication. Although it's not the best way to let go of everything that's bugging you, it was tempting. And besides, a little fun wouldn't harm you entirely, right?

Three out of six of you have indeed succumb to the influence of alcohol, and the sober half is trying to get you momentary drunkards upright, one of which is you who is getting real squirmy. "Y/N, I think you've had enough." Debbie, one of your sober colleagues, stop you from getting another shot.

"I think nooot." Your speech is becoming slurred as you prop your elbows on the table, grinning mindlessly.

"Please, this isn't becoming-"

"Let me handle her." A certain redhead volunteers from behind you, making Debbie's brows perk up as she suddenly recognizes Joe.

"Hey. Um, sure. She's had too much already and it's concerning."

Joe nods with a crooked smile and peeks at you over your shoulder with his hands positioned on either side of your arms. "Y/N, hey. You alright? "

You whip your head at Joe too quickly and end up headbutting him by accident. The both of you yelp at the impact but you recover easily, your droopy eyes widening a little as you recognize Joe, who's rubbing and squinching from the bump. "Heyyy, you're late." You giggle and pinch his pale cheek, leaving a faint mark.

Joe chuckles softly yet briefly and he sweeps your ends of your hair off your shoulder. "I'm sorry, got stuck in traffic."

"That's not nice."

"Look, Y/N, you're drunk. I think I may have to skip joining your 'party' and take you out of here." He says, worry filling his eyes but you whine childishly and slump on your seat, a pout on your lips. "I just want one more shot, just one more, no more no less."

"Y/N, come on," he looks down at you in all seriousness and is not taking any of that drunken stubbornness tonight. You angle your head to one side, eyes heavy and skin flushed from the heat produced by all the drinking, staring plainly at Joe whose expression could serve as a plea to you.

You sigh inwardly. "Nope."

To your inconvenience, your adamancy would now lead to something unwanted, something Joe reluctantly just thought of. "Okay, I might not get you to budge. Your boyfriend can't make you, right?" Joe presses his lips together and his brows arch teasingly. You shoot a rather lazy yet baffled smirk at him and he shrugs apologetically. "But your best friend might." He turns around and marches to get Ben but of course, being drunk, it takes a good minute for Joe's plan to sink in to your brain.

Not a minute later, he returns true to his word with Ben looking uneasy from worrying. He had to willingly excuse himself from Rosy and his friends to come to Joe's 'rescue'. Ben asks politely if the chair next to you is taken and Debbie shakes her head, gesturing for Ben to sit down. He does yet despite with him and Joe flanking you, you remain hard-headed, snapping your squint at Ben who's got his arm positioned on your shoulder. "Oh. What are you doing here?" You put a mean emphasis on your words.

"I didn't know you were here as well, but regardless, you're sozzled."

"So? That's my problem." The drunk sass could never be any clearer.

Ben sighs and glances shortly at Joe who responds with a clueless shrug.

"I don't want to comment on that but please, you need to rest. You've had too much. " Squeezing the side of your arm gently, Ben tries to reason out with you. You roll your eyes at him deliberately, sniffling as you flick a finger at him. "This is just one night. Don't act like you-" you trail off for split second, feeling your stomach boil as nauseatic feeling hits you like an omen. Joe takes notice of the abrupt discomfort on your face and asks. "Y/N, is everything alright-" Restricting him from finishing his question, you push Joe and Ben aside and sprint to the lavatory, miraculously pinpointing it in spite of your current incapability to make a beeline. Fortunately, the stalls are flat-out empty and you shove one open, flipping the toilet seat up and vomiting into it.

Joe and Ben excuse themselves from your table and scurry to the women's room, considering to look away in advance in case the room is jam packed with girls which is not the case as of now.

"Anyone here?" With his head turned away, Joe asks indecisively to which he doesn't get a reply, affirming the bathroom's lack of users, except for you. He and Ben saunter in and call out for you. You've slumped up against the door after regurgitating, overcome with fatigue and sweat. You hear their murmurs but you don't bother to fish for their attention, however your heavy breathing would give you away, which it has.

Ben knocks on the door you're against, cooing your name before falling quiet and hearing your uncontrolled breathing pattern. He nods at Joe and slowly swings it open, your tired body following the movement of the door as it creaks ajar to reveal you. Joe scoops you up on your feet as Ben drapes your other arm around his neck, allowing your weight to be equally distributed. "That's it, we're really taking you home." Peering down at you, Ben softly reprimands. In his eyes, you were never one to have this kind of excess overwhelm you. He always knew you for occasionally turning down invitations to drinks and now you've got him wondering what goaded you to drink heavily.

"I think I should take it from here, buddy." Joe suggests, shifting your body closer to his.

"Mate, she's really limp. I need to-"

"Temporarily. You need to get back to your table and your girl. She must be wondering why you've taken so long."

Ben mulls over it and the redemption he would have had for not finding the time to hang out with you. He's conflicted between leaving to accompany his fiancee and staying to take care of you. But Joe's the 'boyfriend' and to him it would be unfair. And so with a sad sigh, he removes your arm from his shoulder and tips your head back to clear your flushed face of hair, nearly planting a kiss on your mouth by mistake– however agonizingly tempting for a moment– and wincing as he draws back to kiss your forehead, hoping Joe didn't notice which of course he did, and he's trying his best to prevent a smile from twitching on his lips.

"Take care of her, mate. I just wish she'd tell me what's wrong." He frowns, smoothing his hair back with his fingers.

"She'll tell you on her own terms."

"I suppose."

Joe displaces you from your weak stance and you let out an incoherent mumble as he lifts you up bridal style in his arms. He hands Ben a small smile before exiting the bathroom and briefly approaching your colleagues to tell them he's going to be taking you home. Debbie nods and wishes him luck, allowing Joe to leave.

He sets you down in the passenger seat of his car and buckles you in, at the same time making sure you're comfortable. Meanwhile, Ben makes it out just in time for Rosy to interrogate him. "Where have you been? And whatever you did, what took you so long?"

He closes his eyes for a mere fraction of a second and shakes his head, the jerking motion loosening the strands of hair he had combed back. He tugs his seat out, wishing to not feel obligated to answer for once. "I was just helping Joe with Y/N."

"She's here?" Rosy asks snappishly.

"For a supposed date with Joe." He exhales disappointingly, nodding at one of his mates as he takes his glass up to his lips to drink away.

Rosy rolls her eyes at Ben's sudden change of demeanor, oblivious to the reason he's discouraged.

With you curled up in his arms, Joe struggles to grab a hold onto the knob of your door. He teeters aimlessly in a desperate attempt to clip onto his balance, you being quite fidgety in his arms making it uneasy for him. "Okay Y/N, we're here. Let me just get the d-door." He finally lays his hands on the knob and twists the door open, nudging it wider with his shoulder and stumbling in with you. You're pretty much still conscious albeit it's not your own, self-controlled state of mind. You're just getting there.

Joe pauses in his tracks as he feels you yank on his collar. "What?" He asks, voiceless.

"Where's...Ben?"

"Probably still at the pub. Let's get you on the couch. I'm gonna get you a cup of...something." Between each suppressed grunt, Joe lays you down carefully on the fabric, adjusting his waistband and excusing himself to get you something to drink. You drop dead on your side and curl into a fetal position, your eyes bleary and fluttering shut at the beckon of sleep. Shortly after whipping up a glass of lukewarm water and some Aspirin to relieve you of a headache to come, Joe comes back with the items on a tray, finding you on your side, dozing off.

A mildly satisfied smile lingers upon his lips and he lays the tray on the coffee table before you, going back to the kitchen to prepare a towel to dry your face of sweat. He returns once again with a basin and just in time for a knock on the door to catch his ear. Placing the basin next to the tray, he dusts his hands together and slides them downwards his shirt in the act of drying them, answering the door and finding Ben with arms crossed impatiently behind it.

"What are you doing here?" Joe leans against the frame, making out his visit to be utterly unexpected.

"I just...is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fallen asleep."

Ben hangs his head low for a brief pause before shifting on his footing. "Mind if I get in?" Half expecting Joe to decline, he does otherwise, stepping aside for Ben to enter. He thanks Joe quietly and proceeds to find you knocked out real good on the couch. Softened by how angelic you look in your drunken slumber, Ben gets down on his knees before you, laying the back of his hand on your forehead to check whether you've caught the flu or something. Joe approaches his side with arms crossed. "She's alright, Ben. Might get a hangover tomorrow but really, she's okay."

Ben falls silent for a while as he continues to observe you, your delicate features causing a smile to pull on his plump lips. "It's crazy. I had to leave ahead of Rosy and the guys just to check on her."

"You're making it sound like a bad thing, bud."

"No," Ben heaves out an audible exhale, taking the free space at the end of the couch, "well, maybe. But my point is that I've been too busy for a week that I haven't been completely in touch with Y/N. I want to make it up to her. You wouldn't mind that, would you?"

Joe descends on the chair opposite of Ben, throwing his right leg over his left. "What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't mind me hanging out with her, for possibly a whole day, right? "

And with that, Joe gets the point. Once again, for the second time tonight, he forgets about the charade you both are still up to and it just really dawns on him oftentimes that you're in this pretend relationship with him to compensate for what you mistakenly said to Ben the other night. "Yeah, no. I wouldn't mind. But let me ask you a question. It may be personal but don't take it as an offense from me," Joe shifts on his seat, resting his hands firm on the armrest, "was there ever a time you felt something different towards her?"

As if looking back on something lost, Ben sighs and chuckles to himself, a chuckle enigmatic in feeling. "Mate, chill, okay? I'm just her friend."

"I'm not jealous. Just curious. In the time you've known each other, have you ever felt something for her at one point?"

Uncertain but obliged to answer, Ben interlaces his fingers together and talks just loud enough for Joe to make out. "Homecoming."

"Homecoming?"

"Yeah," he breathes out, stealing a quick glimpse of you and remembering how similar you look during that night, "I had another a girl with me that night but when Y/N entered the room...something just snapped in me. She looked...divine." Chuckling to himself, he blinks rapidly and continues. "I easily wondered why I didn't ask her in the first place."

"Well you should've, you clueless bastard." Joe grumbles inaudibly enough to go unheard and he's got a hand for that skill. Ben shifts on his end and presses his lips together, doing his very best not to stare at you long enough to anger Joe.

"By the way, mate. You're invited to my wedding." With the words coming unanticipated from Ben himself, Joe coughs harshly as a reaction, his eyes growing wider by the minute at the news. "Wedding- you've proposed?" He's trying his hardest not to shriek and wake you up.

"Yeah? I thought you- I thought Y/N had already told you."

"No she did nothing of the sort!" To make it more effective, Joe yells voiclessly, gesticulating at the same time. It stuns Ben for a second that you didn't tell him– Joe being your 'new confidant' and all– but recovers soon enough to make it more clearer. "Well now you know."

In Joe's mind, that's probably the reason why you've gone heavy tonight at the pub, and he's correct. It affected you the most, second being your departure for medical school. He was right for gaining the prospect that Ben was going to go for it the night you two had left his birthday early. Joe regains his composure and rises from his seat, ruffling Ben's golden locks which have been at their floppiest tonight, also finding it hard to utter the words in his head. "That's great, buddy. That's just...amazing." He couldn't even articulate 'amazing' without thinking of your reaction when you had known first.

Ben nods, his mouth twitching a tad, his voice cutting deeper and hoarser. "Thanks, mate."

Remembering that you haven't had dinner yet, Joe decides to have Ben look after you as he goes out to buy you something to eat by the time you wake up. Ben inclines to it, even if it takes Joe the entire night to get you food. Trusting you in his temporary care, Joe rubs Ben's shoulder and leaves him to it for half an hour at max.

By the second Joe closes the door, Ben gets up with the incentive and takes the damp cloth from the basin on the coffee table, tenderly sweeping strands of hair away from your face, his refined touch making you sensitive and shudder lightly on the couch.

He wipes your forehead and the warm contact of the cloth elicits a quick groan from your throat, the pout forming on your lips prompting Ben to grin ridiculously. He swallows and dares to lower his forehead onto yours with the cloth still in his clutch, the warm touch of his skin on yours sending a sensation through your unconscious body, bringing a lone tear to trickle down your cheek. He whispers to you in the frailest tone he hasn't spoken in in a while, squeezing his eyes shut in the process.

"Please, tell me what's hurting you..."

#queen #borhap #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #borhap cast #borhap cast x reader #borhap imagine

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 5 years

Text

Ephemera Chapter Three (Early)

Ephemera: In art, transitory written and printed matter (receipts, notes, tickets, clippings, etc.) not originally intended to be kept or preserved.

Alternatively, things that exist or are used for only a short time.

Description: Nobody knows who Vante really is. Everything about the popular artist is shrouded in secrecy: from his face to his name to everything in between. After years of working for his art gallery, Y/N feels she may just be the closest thing he has to a friend. Between her success at work and her relationship with campus hot-shot Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s life has never been better. But is Jungkook truly who he says he is? And who will Y/N protect now that she knows Vante’s livelihood may be on the line?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 7.2k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Gang!Au, Art History Student!Reader, Film Student!Jungkook, Art Student!Taehyung

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Hey guys! I decided to say screw it and put links in here. I feel like the chapter functions much more cleanly this way, so hopefully the Tumblr gods take pity on me. Anyway, this chapter is early!! As per a request below the last chapter, I’ve gotten this one finished a few days before Sunday, so it’s goin up. I’ll post Chapter Four on Sunday as scheduled! As always, please feel free to send me a message if you’d like! Comments, questions, critiques, theories, send them my way! I’ll respond to all asks received within a day of receiving them.

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

I removed my heels in the stairwell and began jogging barefoot up the steep flights. However harebrained, my scheme was working well. Panting, I carried my shoes in my right hand and used my left to claw my way up the railing, pulling my aching body up the stairs. As I approached the tenth floor landing, I paused and caught my breath, careful not to heave on my inhales and exhales. I pushed open the heavy door and emerged just outside the gallery, Jungkook’s back receding into the shadows of the hallway.

He wasted no time.

Silently, I maneuvered my way into the gallery, guiding the door shut behind me. I set my shoes and purse on the floor beside the front doors, gritting my teeth as I labored to be as silent as possible. My footfalls were gentle as I tiptoed through the shadows, creeping close to the walls in case he suddenly turned around and barreled back onto the floor. I heard the sound of his shoes squeaking against the wood down the hallway, a brisk pace, and found myself rushing as well to keep up.

I slipped into the hall and found his back still turned to me, turning silently into the break room. I straightened a little and crossed my arms. If I hadn’t found anything useful in there, he sure as hell wouldn’t. I walked quickly into a dark alcove beside the break room door, pressing my ear against the wall to hear him. But he was quiet as a mouse as he searched the room. Predictably, he only spent a few moments inside before deeming it fruitless and stepping back into the hallway. Under cover of the shadows, I watched him rake his hands through his hair and shake his head with a huff.

He turned on his heel and I pressed myself back against the wall, deeply shrouded in darkness, as he passed me. Without a second look, he was inside the backroom. I rolled my eyes. If he thought he’d make any headway back there, he was in for a nasty shock. Not only was the backroom an absolute disaster, it took near pinpoint accuracy to find your way around. I suspected the kid might even get lost in the stacks of canvases if I didn’t keep a close eye on him.

Carefully, I followed behind him, slipping through the door and padding it as I led it back to its frame. Once secured, the door released a tiny groan and I exhaled long and slow, my hands frozen on its metal surface. I squeezed my eyes shut. This was it. This had to be it. That metallic clanging had to have alerted Jungkook to the presence of another person in that dark backroom. I was caught. I was certainly caught.

But seconds ticked on in silence. Then minutes. And after several agonizing moments, I straightened my back and turned around, brows furrowed. I scanned the big room for him and saw nothing. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic falling of his footsteps, echoing dimly around the space. The factory lights flickered overhead and I righted myself, composing my breathing with a silent pat to my chest.

I crept behind him, always separated by at least one row of art supplies: haphazardly stacked canvases, broken easel legs, shelves of paintbrushes that I couldn’t name if you paid me. I could see him through the gaps in the shelves, his eyes scanning the supplies like a predator. There was something in his expression that I didn’t like, and in the brief glimpses I got of his face I could sense a desperate sort of hostility. The nameless look burned into the back of my mind as I followed him, watchful over his every movement.

Eventually, he found his way to the back of the room where Vante left the paintings he wanted displayed. Just like earlier today, I watched the yellow light swing in the draft and catch on something in the corner.

Unlike earlier today, Jungkook saw it too.

I heard his breath catch in his throat and, before I could react, he was jogging toward it. Looking now, I could see that the vague outline I’d noticed before was more than that. It was a door, covertly disguised to match the wall. Beside it, a keypad which Jungkook uncovered from behind a rectangular canvas. My eyes went wide and I glanced around quickly, searching for anything to distract Jungkook with. But as I did, I noticed something new. In the top right corner of the room, hanging from the ceiling and trained right on that camouflaged door, was a camera. Surely, I was in view as well, hiding halfway behind a shelf of gauche paints. I looked right into the lens, stared at it long and hard. I had no doubts. On the other end of that camera could be Vante himself. I steeled my gaze and lowered my head, a nearly invisible nod, before I cleared my throat and stepped out from behind the stacks.

Jungkook nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to face me with beet-red cheeks and eyes as wild as his wind-swept hair. There it was again. That gambling look. Like he had a losing hand and I’d called his bluff. I crossed my arms and smiled, staring him up and down.

“Y/N, I-,” he began, then looked around the room frantically, hands poised awkwardly at his sides.

I cut the tension with a laugh and tilted my head to the side. “Baby,” I drawled, laughing again. “I told you to get my keys, not snoop around my workplace.”

Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed a little and he breathed out a shaky laugh. “Sorry. I just got kinda curious being in her after hours,” he said, fishing around in his front pocket and tossing my keys at me. They arced through the air before clattering to the floor beside my bare feet. He furrowed his brow and crossed his arms. “Where are your shoes?”

I picked up the keys and tilted my leg to expose my swollen ankle. “They were hurting me so I left them by the door,” I said with a sigh, fanning my hair out behind me. “Shall we leave?” I asked with a saccharine smile. “Or are there any more secrets you wanna find?” My eyes slid to the door before him.

He stiffened. “I…I mean, are there more?” he asked, blinking at the door. “Secrets, I mean.”

Quietly, I peeked at the camera, crossing my arms and pleading with whatever higher power was out there that Vante was watching. I sighed and approached Jungkook, placing my hands on his shoulders and wheeling him around towards the aisle. I was careful to guide him away from the camera, praying that he wouldn’t notice it.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I said, patting his back before leading the way back out to the floor. With a pang in my stomach, I realized that my note to Vante was gone and my keys remained.

“So he went snooping around?” asked Nara as I sat atop the front counter, my feet swaying. She carefully pried open one of the bunny cages and adjusted the water bottle with a huff. “Kinda suspicious.”

“Kinda?” I asked, shaking my head as I watched my sneakers bump the front of the counter. “It’s all…it’s all adding up to something really unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant is a nice way of putting it,” she said with a snort before turning her attention to the hamster cages, carefully refilling their food. “How can you be so casual about all of this? Isn’t it, like, pretty serious?”

I hummed a little and shrugged. “I mean…didn’t it all seem too good to be true from the start?” I asked, then laughed a little, surprised by how sad it sounded. “Why would a guy like him be interested in me anyway? I think it was only a matter of time anyway.”

Nara turned to me and rested a hand on her hip, brows knit as she scanned me. There was a tangible worry in her body language, and the way she looked at me made me feel like an animal on display. The daylight caught on her skin as it streamed through the pet shop windows, revealing tired bags beneath her eyes.

I sat upright and hopped off the counter, walking toward her with a pout. “Nara, are you sleeping?” I asked.

She scoffed and gave my shoulder a shove. “Your boyfriend might be using you to commit espionage and you’re worried about my sleep?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

I sighed and grabbed the strings of her apron which had come undone at the front. Carefully, I retied it. “You didn’t answer.”

She flitted her hand and shrugged, evading my gaze by pursing her lips and watching the bunnies play. “I might be spread a little thin lately with this class.”

“What class?”

“English lit,” she said with a sigh, stepping away to tend to a cage full of newly vaccinated puppies. She reached down and patted one on the head. “I’m slaving over this essay and my prof won’t give me an extension because of work.”

I furrowed my brow and crossed my arms. “Do you not have any time to finish it? Are you working too many hours?” I asked.

She tossed her head to the side and chuckled. “Y/N, please. I have a mom of my own, I don’t need you on my case too.”

I stiffened, glancing away, and rubbed the back of my head. “I’ll stop nagging.”

She hissed a little and shook her head. “Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have worded it that way,” she said, approaching and scanning my features softly.

I smiled. “It’s fine,” I said with a shrug. “Whatever love I may have missed out on, Dad gave me tenfold.” I laughed, ready to change the subject, when the front door bell dinged and both Nara and I stiffened to greet the customer.

A young guy, maybe mid-twenties, sauntered in. His eyes were sharp, glancing around the pet shop like he might find secrets hidden in the abundant potted plants or the pee pads set up in the corner. His demeanor was rather reserved, lips set in a thin line, dressed in all neutrals with a cap obscuring his face whenever he looked down. He didn’t seem like the type to visit a pet store of his own free will.

But as Nara approached, I realized this wasn’t his first time here. She grinned and stood beside him. “Hello again. It was…Yoongi, right?” she asked with a giggle. The man lifted his head and only met her eyes for a scant second before clearing his throat and glancing toward the tabby cats sitting behind a panel of glass. “What are you looking for today? If I remember correctly, last time you bought a food bowl?” she asked.

The man shook his head, edging away from her. Something about him was suspicious, but I kept my mouth shut and simply watched from afar. “Need food now,” he said curtly, his voice rough and low and distinctive.

Nara spared me a glance and wiggled her eyebrows from across the store. I chuckled as I slowly eased back against the counter, hands pressed behind me. “For that cat you mentioned? What have you been feeding it the past few days?” she asked. “You found it on the street, right?”

The man glanced at her curiously before clearing his throat and nodding. “Um, yeah,” he said, scanning the pets before wandering closer to me where the rows of pet foot were stacked.

We locked eyes for a moment and, after a tense few seconds, I looked away first. “What kind of cat was it again?” asked Nara, walking close behind him with her customer service grin pasted across her face.

He furrowed his brow and glanced at her. “What’s it matter?”

“Well,” she began, still smiling, “different cats need different diets. Some cat breeds require special diets and-,”

Nara began her speech about the importance of a specialized diet and both me and this Yoongi man visibly stopped focusing. The man ran his fingers along the fronts of several bags of cat food before grabbing one and, sliding past me, set it on the counter beside the cash register.

Nara paused her lecture and tilted her head to the side, eyes wide. “Oh! Will this one be okay? Are you sure you don’t want to go with-,”

“This one’s fine,” said the man, finally looking her in the eye. When he did, I realized why he’d been avoiding it this whole time. His pale skin went slightly reddish here and there and, before the blush could spread, he looked back to the food, letting his hat cover his face.

I smiled and stepped away, biting back a laugh. “A-alright then,” said Nara, the same charming dusting of pink on her cheeks as well.

I slouched over my painting, staring abysmally down at it as it stared equally abysmally back at me. Professor Jung patrolled like a shark, staring over our shoulders as we stared at our freshly dried paintings. It wasn’t like the thing was going to change the longer I stewed on it. But each time Professor Jung skulked by I painted myself as the dutiful student, pondering my piece with furrowed brows and quiet, contemplative exhales. Truthfully, it was still the same depressing, grey piece it had been days prior. Only now, there was a horrible dash of yellow glaring up at me. The forms were jumbled, blending into one another. The colors were boring. The technique was tactless to say the least.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “So? What do you guys think now that you’ve has a few days to sleep on your pieces?” asked Professor Jung with a clap of his hands.

I jumped a little and lifted my eyes to meet his at the front of the classroom. “Illuminating,” offered one student with a snicker, to which Professor Jung simply leveled his eyes with the kid and cocked a brow.

“Taking time to rest and think on a piece of art can help you all become better artists. Things tend to come into perspective once we take a step back,” he said, nodding.

I stiffened, eyes wide, and stared at my professor for a long moment. Was that the key after all? “I still think mine looks like an elephant,” mumbled a girl beside me to her friend, to which the friend giggled behind her hand.

Across the room, Taehyung caught my eyes. How long had he been watching me anyway? The two of us locked gazes and neither made a move to smile or wave. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like I’d been caught doing something naughty. I felt my cheeks flush under his intense scrutiny, and even across the room I could feel the intensity of his eyes on me. His brow was set low, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, jaw set staunch and shoulders slumped. Today he didn’t look quite so put together. He looked as if perhaps he hadn’t slept well, and he hadn’t had the time to meticulously craft an interesting ensemble, sitting instead in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans that exposed the muscles of his knees. Like the ones Jungkook liked to wear.

I cleared my throat and glanced away, eyes falling to his painting as it sat on the table. It looked pretty from far away, some delicate landscape of thick trees and a distant cabin, but I couldn’t look for long because as Professor Jung monologued, I noticed something peculiar.

Taehyung’s sweatshirt wasn’t just some Hanes throwaway.

It was Givenchy.

My brows knit as I stared at the logo emblazoned across his chest. He didn’t seem like the type to seek out high-end brands, and being a student I’d naturally assumed he, like me, was broke to the bone. But the longer I looked the more curious it became. Not only was his sweatshirt name brand, but it looked like his shoes were authentic Doc Martens. Even his pants seemed like they were made of high-quality denim.

Before I knew it, class was dismissed and to my surprise, students began gathering their things to leave. Startled, I jumped out of my seat and collected my belongings, struggling to hold my canvas without dropping my backpack or my cold cup of coffee.

I huffed a little with the effort, but I had little time to lament my frustrations because before I could even react, my painting was snatched away from me. “Hey-,” I began, but stopped short when I realized it was Taehyung towering over me, a soft smile on his face that didn’t quite touch his eyes. In his hands were both our paintings. “Taehyung,” I breathed with a grin.

He nudged me gently with the corner of his canvas and jerked his head toward the exit. “Looked like you were struggling.”

I chuckled and ran my fingers through my hair. “You could say that,” I said, sighing.

The two of us set off down the hallway, our arms brushing now and then. “What have you been up to these days?” he asked.

“It hasn’t been that long since we argued about What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim,” I countered with a grin, eyeing him sidelong.

He smiled back at me, but again it was a halfway smile. The kind you give when you’re holding something in. “Long enough for something to have changed,” he said, jerking both our canvases up against his side to avoid accidentally smacking a passerby.

I pursed my lips and thought a moment. Had anything changed? Jungkook was still acting like himself, whoever that really was. After catching him in the act, I figured perhaps I’d have had the courage to confront him about it. But reality was endlessly disappointing. Every time I saw his name light up my phone, I was filled with something cold and restless. Something that demanded to be addressed. But all I could do in the end was read and cherish his every word and respond with a heart.

I was pretty pathetic, wasn’t I?

“Nothing,” I said with a nod, picking at the cuticles on my free hand. I took a sip of coffee, and found it displeasingly chilled. “Nothing’s changed.”

Taehyung glanced down at me and scanned my face. I glanced away down the hallway with a sigh. “You know-,”

“Forget it,” I said, waving my hands. My coffee sloshed coldly against the paper cup and with a sigh I carefully tossed the thing into the closest trash can. I turned to Taehyung with a wide smile. “Let’s do something, hm? I’ve got some things I wanna forget about and you seem like a good distraction.”

His brows lifted and he stared at me with round eyes. “Do something?”

I nodded, snatching my painting from beneath his arm and holding it close. I smiled. “I’ll take you to my happy place,” I said, laughing.

“Hey, Mr. Kim!” I called as I guided Taehyung past a few courtyard benches.

The ground was slightly uneven, and the footpath below us was overgrown with thin plants. Easy to trip on, and I’d know. Past the stone archways, we entered the cafe. Mr. Kim sat with a big smile behind the counter, his head in his hand as we entered. I waved and gently sat my painting beside a stool by the bar, hopping up and sitting down as Taehyung followed suit. I watched Taehyung’s eyes flit over the paper lanterns hanging on strings overhead, touch upon the old brick wall hosting hundreds of polaroids of friends and patrons, the many potted plants, the delicate yellow flowers beside us. The place was warm as ever and cozier than usual. Patrons milled about the large bookcases or sat quietly gazing out at the busy Hongdae street. I shucked off my jacket and slung it over the back of my stool.

Mr. Kim, a weathered man with a big heart, grinned as he began working on my drink, not even sparing a moment to ask what I wanted. “Who’s this?” he asked, eyeing Taehyung over the coffee maker. “Not the boyfriend Nara showed me.”

Taehyung stiffened and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could I laughed and shook my head. “He’s a friend,” I said, resting my cheek in my palm with a smile. “Last time we hung out, we went to that coffee chain on campus.” I stuck out my tongue in mock disgust.

Taehyung’s eyes went wide. “Was the coffee bad?” he asked, real concern in his expression.

I laughed and patted his arm, but retracted my hand as his cheeks went pink. “No, it’s not that,” I said, grinning at Mr. Kim. “Just that this place has the best coffee.”

“What is this place?” asked Taehyung with a wondrous look around.

Mr. Kim slid my coffee in front of me before beginning work on Taehyung’s. “It’s called Nunchi,” I said quietly, watching Mr. Kim as he worked carefully. He’d entered the zone: that perfect space where all his focus was on his task. Nara and I used to take advantage of this zone often as kids. “You know what nunchi is?”

He nodded, entranced by Mr. Kim’s capable movements like I was. “When someone is really good at reading other people’s emotions. Like…being in touch with what other people are feeling without speaking and reacting well to it.”

“At least you know,” teased Mr. Kim with a wink my way. “Miss Y/N is still working on her nunchi.”

I gaped, patting my chest. “Hey! I have excellent nunchi!” I said, wagging my finger at Mr. Kim.

“Your dad has excellent nunchi,” Mr. Kim said with a loud laugh, the one that came from his gut like a shout. “Anyhow, here at the shop we know what you need even when you don’t know it yourself.”

Taehyung jumped a little before glancing at me out the corner of his eye and offering a smile. “So you know each other well?” he asked.

I nodded with a soft chuckle. “Too well,” I joked. “He’s my best friend’s dad.”

“And your dad’s business partner,” said Mr. Kim, raising his brows.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, sighing. “My dad lives out on a ranch. What he harvests, he sends here for their seasonal menus.”

Taehyung stared at me with wide eyes. “I didn’t know you weren’t from Seoul.”

I laughed, patting his shoulder. “How could you? We only just met.”

Taehyung’s expression faltered for half a second before he laughed and nodded, rubbing the back of his neck gently. “You’re right,” he said. Mr. Kim slid him a cup on a white platter and took a step back with crossed arms. “What’s this?” he asked before taking a sip, eyeing Mr. Kim over his glasses. He placed both hands around the coffee cup.

“It’s a latte,” he said, chuckling. “Caramel latte, not too bitter. Outsourced beans so it’s pretty nutty.”

“Nutty?” asked Taehyung, turning to me.

I laughed. “It’s the aroma,” I said, cupping my hands around Taehyung’s and bringing the coffee up to his nose. “Take a whiff.”

His eyes fluttered a little before shutting, brows furrowing as he inhaled through his nostrils. “Mm,” he breathed, nodding once before lowering our hands. I grabbed my own drink and took a sip. “I could smell it.”

I nodded, sighing into my drink. “Of course you could,” I said with a smile at Mr. Kim. “Because our barista is a master.”

Mr. Kim tipped his baseball cap and laughed. “I’ll fix you two a snack,” he said, walking easily into the small adjacent kitchen.

I sipped my drink quietly, watching the coffee swirl around the glass. “So what’s your drink?” asked Taehyung, turning to me with a gentle smile, his chin in his hand.

I slid it to him to sip. “Antoccino,” I said.

He pulled a sour face as he took a drink before politely pushing the saucer back to me. “Bitter,” he said.

I laughed, pensive as I took another drink. “It’s half milk and half espresso. I figured you’d hate it.”

“So that’s why it’s called Nunchi,” he said with a knowing nod. “He knows what we want.”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. I wished I could say the same about myself. Perhaps Mr. Kim was right. Perhaps my nunchi wasn’t quite as good as I thought it was. “Hey, uh…thanks for coming out with me today,” I said, running my fingertip along the rim of my glass.

Taehyung visibly went stiff before coughing a little, passing it off as a laugh. “Um, no. It-it’s fine. Honestly, I’m happy you invited me,” he said.

I peeked up at him and smiled a little. “You seem like a very nice person,” I said, thinking back to that day at the gallery. How suspicious I’d been. Looking at him now, taking quiet little drinks of his latte like a cat, it was hard to believe I’d ever thought he was capable of being underhanded. “I’m sure you have more important things to do,” I said with a nod.

Taehyung jumped slightly and stared at me. “What? No! There’s nothing,” he said.

I chuckled and nodded. “It’s okay,” I said, surprised by the somberness in my voice. “Forget I said anything.”

Taehyung was quiet for a long moment, each of us staring at our coffees without uttering a word. “Are you doing okay?” he asked finally, his voice soft like a whisper.

I swallowed hard and smiled, unable to meet his eyes. “Mhm,” I said. “Sorry. I asked you to come out and forget the bad stuff, and here I am throwing a pity party.” I turned to him with a smile. “I think I’m okay. And…well, if I’m not then I will be soon.”

His eyes were dark and troubled. He kept opening and closing his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Like he couldn’t find the right thing to say, or perhaps there were too many things to say that he couldn’t pick one. He sighed and rubbed his nose bridge before lifting his eyes and offering a barely-there smile.

“There’s always gonna be something to make you sad,” he said with a nod. “That’s life.”

“You’re right,” I said, forcing a smile. I suspected he meant to be comforting, but the words hung in the air like dead weight and settled uneasily on my chest.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not it,” he said, grabbing my arm. I stiffened, turning wide eyes toward Taehyung as he stumbled over his words. “I-I’m not very good at this, but…what I mean is that we can’t control all the bad shit that happens to us, but we can control how we react to it. We don’t always have power over life, but we always have power over ourselves.”

I furrowed my brow and stared at him, puzzled. “But what if it’s something really serious? Something you desperately need to get to the bottom of but can’t?”

He released my arm and turned back to his latte, blinking at it as he took another sip. He peeked at me out the corner of his eyes. “Well then you’ve got a choice to make,” he said carefully, eyes sliding back to his drink. His lashes brushed the apples of his cheeks and, sitting just like that with a quiet thoughtfulness to him, I couldn’t help but notice that he seemed handsomer than usual. “Are you gonna let the fear of the unknown consume you?” he asked, then lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Or are you gonna take back your power?”

My heart raced as our gazes locked. There passed a moment of profound understanding. Like neither of us needed to explain ourselves to know what the other had meant. Like he knew without knowing what I needed to hear. I pressed my lips thin and set my jaw.

Before I could respond, Mr. Kim returned with some cheesecake, two forks, and a big welcoming smile. Taehyung and I both smiled our thanks and wordlessly took a bite.

Jungkook and I sat quietly in his apartment, lounging on his couch as a crime documentary droned on his television. The evening outside was cold and brisk, but inside nestled beneath several layers of blankets, I was toasty warm. Every now and again, Jungkook’s fingers would brush against mine beneath the covers like he was trying to initiate physical touch and, on impulse, I’d jerk away. I only removed my eyes from the screen to check my phone once in a while, sneaking covert glances around the small living room for clues as I did.

I was trying my best, but every second I sat beside him was a second that felt like forgery. Each time his tender eyes would wash over my face, I’d feel a tickle in my stomach that I couldn’t ignore.

If only reclaiming my power was easier.

At around six, relief finally arrived in the form of Kim Seokjin.

“Hello, children. Papa’s home!” he called, slamming the front door open with a big, powerful laugh. He tossed the plastic grocery bags aside on the tiled kitchen counter and throw his arms out wide.

Laughing, I hopped out from beneath the blankets and rushed him like a football player, colliding against his chest with a thud that stole his breath. He sputtered a little as he patted my back, Jungkook chuckling from the couch. I pulled myself away to give the older boy a proper once-over. It had been a few weeks since I’d seen him, but every time he came around he seemed goofier than before. Now he stood above me with a big grin and wiggling eyebrows. There was mischief in his dark irises.

Carefully, I took a step back and crossed my arms, peering at him. “What are you plotting?” I asked, cocking a brow. God, if only it were that easy to interrogate Jungkook.

Seokjin clapped a hand to his chest and gaped, wide-eyed. “I am hurt!” he called, staggering back against the counter with more than a little theatrics. “My roommate’s girlfriend doesn’t even trust me!”

Your roommate’s girlfriend doesn’t trust your roommate either, I thought with a scowl. “What’s in the bag, Jin?” Jungkook asked, suddenly at my side with an arm draped over my shoulders.

I peeked up at him, the skin of my neck warm where his cheek touched it. Seokjin smirked and opened one of the plastic bags, beckoning us to look inside. Underneath the yellow glow of their fluorescent kitchen lights, several six-packs of cheap beer lay atop one another, some half-toppled over on their sides.

I laughed and shook my head. “You two can feel free to get shitfaced on a weekday, but I’ve got class tomorrow morning.”

“It’s a Thursday,” said Seokjin, rolling his eyes. “Barely a weekday.”

“Don’t you two have work or something?” I asked, crossing my arms and bowing out from underneath Jungkook’s embrace.

Jungkook’s back stiffened and he turned to me. “Why do you ask?” he said, something guarded in his eyes, something not quite trusting.

Wait…

Was he suspicious of me now?

I might’ve laughed if it wasn’t so alarming. I furrowed my brow and gestured toward the drinks. “You hate being hungover at work,” I said, recalling what felt like an ancient conversation between the two of us early in our relationship after a night of barbecue and shots.

His expression softened and he puffed out an uneasy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Just…uh, felt like you were scolding me.”

I matched his laugh with one of my own before clearing my throat and grabbing for a can of beer, yanking it from the plastic. It was lukewarm, probably disgusting, and definitely a bad idea. But the evening had yielded no new information, and Jungkook wouldn’t let me out of his sight. No matter how much I scanned the apartment under his watchful eye, I couldn’t find anything that would help me figure out what was going on.

And besides, what if drinking loosened Jungkook up enough to spill something on accident?

I cracked it open and tipped the cool tin can against my lips, guiding the acrid beer down my throat with an unpleasant frown. I hissed as I finished my swig and winced a little. I’d almost forgotten how much I hated beer.

But it had been worth something at least. Because as I gingerly nursed my second sip of beer, Jungkook grabbed for a can of his own. Without thinking, I reached my drink out to touch the rim of his before locking eyes with him. Of course, he was infuriatingly handsome. Dark eyes with an innocently cocked brow, a smirk on his lips revealing perfect teeth, soft hair that bounced a little the two of us took a drink together.

But in that smirk, I knew he held secrets.

And it was time I started revealing them.

“On my life, I would!” called Seokjin from the floor, already plastered from the looks of it and from the volume of his voice.

Jungkook and I sat leaning against one another on the couch, laughing. “You would not pass up a date with Hyolyn just to be on Law of the Jungle!”

“You wouldn’t last!” I exclaimed in tandem.

Seokjin shook his head, eyes shut, stubborn and drunk as a skunk. And from the way Jungkook was leaning against my shoulder, he was pretty far gone himself. “I would do fine,” protested Jin with a nod, eyes still shut.

Jungkook took a moment to wipe beneath his eyes before turning to me with a dopey grin. “Alright, Y/N. Your turn,” he said.

Suddenly, Seokjin’s eyes were open and focused on me. He sat upright and looked at me seriously. “Y/N,” began Jin with a cough. “Would you rather find out who Vante is but lose your job, or never know who he really is but work for the Gallery forever?”

I stiffened, brows furrowed, and crossed my arms. It was a horribly pointed question, and I wasn’t drunk enough to take is innocent. “I’d rather never know,” I said with a decisive nod.

Jungkook went still beside me, but his eyes remained trained on my face. He seemed much soberer now, much more focused. “But doesn’t it make you crazy? Being so close to him but not knowing who he is?” he asked.

I blinked and edged away from Jungkook’s side, watching my lap. “If he’s hiding, there’s a reason,” I said with a nod.

“That’s ridiculous,” said Jungkook, his tone revealing a longtime frustration. As if he was finally scratching the surface of an issue that had bothered him a long time. Out the corner of my eye, I saw him cross his arms.

“What if he’s really creepy?” asked Seokjin, eyeing me carefully from the rug.

I shook my head. “I trust him.”

“You’re naive.” I expected Jin to respond, but the words came from Jungkook who by then was staring into the middle distance as if I’d really upset him.

I scoffed and turned to him. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but something in me was burning. “Vante has been nothing but kind and supportive to me, and he’s been a part of my life longer than you have,” I said with a sigh. I turned back to Seokjin. “Watch what you say,” I said, looking them both in the eye.

Before either of them could speak, my phone began buzzing in my pocket and I jumped. Nara’s name lit up my screen and without a moment’s hesitation, I unlocked it and pressed it to my ear.

“Y/N!” she called, audibly relieved.

I raised my brows. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Ugh, it’s Hyun,” she whined into the receiver.

I sat upright and furrowed my brows. “Your dog?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

“Yeah, he-,”

“Hold on,” I said, shaking my head.

I glanced around the room as Nara audibly shuffled on the other end. The air was no good in here, stagnant and awkward after my outburst. Not to mention the way both boys seemed to hang on my every word like they were hungering for more. I needed to get out of there, get some fresh air, clear my head. Restless, I stood to my feet and turned to Jungkook, gesturing with my hands to the front door. He feigned a smile and nodded as I shuffled out into the outdoor hallway, bracing the cold with a shiver.

Something wasn’t sitting right with me. If Seokjin was the one who asked the question about Vante to begin with, did that mean he was in on this too? And what about the alcohol?

Had it all been planned from the start?

“Sorry, I’m at Jungkook’s,” I said with a sigh, gripping the bridge of my nose as a headache began to take hold.

Nara was quiet for a moment. “How…is that going?”

“Not well.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, somber.

I shrugged, but I felt my posture go rigid. I cleared my throat. “It’s fine. Anyway, what about Hyun?”

She groaned. “Well I agreed to do a group workshop for the paper I’ve been talking about, but I realized I forgot to put food in Hyun’s bowl. I don’t know when I’ll be home and I’m at the library right now and I’m just kinda worried about-,”

“Nara,” I interrupted with a laugh. “Breathe.”

She inhaled and exhaled before coughing a little. Was she getting sick? “Sorry. Um…I know it’s shitty, but if you could just swing by my apartment and fill his bowl I’d owe you my life.”

I thought a moment, watching my knees as the buckled slightly in the chill. Vante wasn’t wrong when he chastised me for being a pushover. And with evidence still possibly lingering in Jungkook’s apartment, and a new accomplice to think about, I wasn’t sure I should be so hasty leaving. But the longer I stayed, the worse things became and I hadn’t found anything useful yet. What made me assume I’d find anything now?

And besides, it was Nara.

I sighed. “Yeah, uh I can be there in fifteen,” I said, glancing out into the blistery night.

“Ugh, you’re a life saver! Seriously,” she said, her voice going distant on the phone.

“Don’t mention it,” I said with a smile.

“Love you!”

“Love you too,” I said as the line disconnected.

I rubbed my arms and slid my phone back into the pocket of my jeans. My face was hot from drinking and my body felt exhausted after a week of work and classes. I wanted to find someplace to collapse and take a nap, but something told me that I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

I stretched my torso a little before walking back inside the apartment. But, to my surprise, there was no bickering between Jungkook and Jin, no witty banter, no pillows being thrown across coffee tables. Instead, there was just the steady drone of the TV and the absence of both boys. I scanned the kitchen, then the living room. Nothing.

Perhaps this was my opportunity…

“Newcomer Ori Technologies is hosting a charity banquet next month to celebrate their first year in operation, and it’s rumored many big names will be in attendance. To name a few-,” said the newscaster on the television as I quickly shut it off. Odd, I was certain we were watching MNet when I left the apartment.

Carefully, I crept around the room in search of something, anything, that might give me answers. But everything was as normal as it had always been: monochromatic paintings on the walls, potted plants sitting half-dead in the corners, pillows sitting slumped against the backs of the couches. There was nothing new to be seen here.

But in the silence, I could hear the dull, muffled back-and-forth of conversation. As silently as I could, I poked my head down the hallway and strained to listen. I could only make out faint words like Gallery and trying, but most of what was said was entirely unintelligible to me. I suspected Jungkook and Seokjin had stolen away down the hall to hide in the computer room. Jungkook took great pains to make that room soundproof so he could play games in peace, so their discussion had to be pretty loud if I could hear it.

An idea came to me that had my nerves jittering. Beside the computer room was a room I seldom entered. I’d only been in once, and it was under Jungkook’s supervision the first time I’d visited the apartment.

Seokjin’s room.

If he was indeed involved in this whole mystery, perhaps it was time to change my focus. Silently, I approached the door and slipped inside the chilly, pitch-black bedroom. I steeled myself with a deep breath, my forehead pressed against the door separating me from being caught. Who knew what would happen if they found me snooping around? Who knew if I had any reason to suspect Seokjin? I was certain that if they found me, I’d be cooked one way or another.

And if Jungkook disappeared, then I’d never know the truth.

Somehow, that unsettled me more than anything.

I nodded and summoned my courage to flick on the light. Suddenly, the darkness gave way to light grey wallpaper and collages of photos on bulletin boards. The room was sleek and clean, and the walls were decorated with sentimental pictures of Seokjin and people I didn’t recognize. A few photos featured Jungkook, but again they were surrounded by unknown faces. I scanned them for a moment before dropping my eyes to Seokjin’s work desk.

Atop the white lacquered wood was an expensive computer and not much else. I sucked in my breath and leaned down before it, running my fingers along the drawer. I couldn’t afford to waste much time, my ears hypersensitive to any noises coming from the hallway. I pried open the drawer and stared into it with wide, eager eyes.

Sitting at the bottom were several notebooks and one manila folder. The conversation from outside seemed to be quieting down, and my nerves were on fire. Without thinking, I yanked the manila folder out from inside and opened it on the floor beside Seokjin’s desk chair.

My heart skipped a beat.

Inside the folder were dozens of legal documents. I shook my head and fingered through them. They all seemed to be public records, transactions, contracts, things relating to business. Perplexed, I flipped to the final page in the thick pile.

And there it was.

Vante’s elegant, distinctive signature at the bottom of a document I didn’t recognize. And, right beside it, a name I could only vaguely place.

Kim Namjoon.

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