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sansaorgana · 2 months

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— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (IX)

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX PART SEVEN || PART EIGHT || PART TEN

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Atreides!OC

SUMMARY — Feyd-Rautha focuses on bringing back the spice production to full efficency while his wife plots against The Baron. The ghosts of her past are haunting her in the Arrakeen Palace where her family lived and died.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is Paul Atreides’ half-sister. This chapter is quite long so I think the next one will be the last...? Of course I am open to write some additional chapters with these characters in the future 👀 Thank you everyone supporting my work 🙏🏻😭 I don't know when I'll post the next / last chapter. Next week I hope but it might take me more time than usual because I have to catch up with uni work finally lol

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), violent behaviour, death

WORD COUNT — 8,170

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THROWN TO THE WOLVES (IX)

Feyd-Rautha was barely able to hide his excitement on that day. Becoming the Governor of Arrakis was a huge deal – not only it proved that he was his uncle’s worthy successor if he was given such responsibility, but also Arrakis remained the most important planet under the Harkonnen rule due to the spice resources. Controlling this planet was like controlling the universe.

Before the official ceremony would begin, he had to deal with the formalities, all dressed up in the accurate black leather attire and pride on his face. Then his wife entered the throne room accompanied by the guards and from that moment he could only focus on her.

Her black leather dress’ design was mimicking his uniform’s one and her face was hidden by the veil made of chains and gemstones. She walked past him and bowed down in front of his uncle. Feyd knew that was the custom but it still made him clench his jaw and blood boil.

She straightened herself and fixed her dress on her abdomen as it was getting too tight in that area. Feyd smirked at the sight of her womb getting visibly swollen with his child. With his heir.

His wife signed the contract about him becoming the new Governor of Arrakis as the Atreides signet ring sparkled on her pinky finger. The truth was, her signature was not required there at all but the Baron loved to humiliate her in this way. However, she managed to do it with such dignity. Feyd wondered if she still felt like an Atreides. That signet ring wasn’t leaving her pinky finger at all ever since it had been adjusted to her size.

He wondered if it was a symbol of power for her or did she keep it for sentimental reasons.

Sentiment. That word was new in Feyd-Rautha’s dictionary. But now, when he watched his wife standing behind him with her hands clasped on her womb, he swore he could feel it.

He couldn’t explain most of the things happening inside his body at the sight of her. It was more than plain desire or sexual attraction. In fact, he had had lovers more adventurous than her and surely more experienced. But he had never met a woman like that.

She made him think of his mother, especially now, when she was expecting his child. He wondered what kind of mother she would be. Would she… love… his son? Or would he be another pawn in her court games…?

His mother was cold and distant but only recently Feyd had realised it was no reason to kill her. Was it possible that some part of him regretted it? His uncle had manipulated him into doing something he couldn’t truly understand back in the day – an act impossible to undo and sealing his murderous fate.

But even his mother had never touched him so gently like his wife. And he knew that it was weak to crave that but he did – he craved more from her and her only. He would kill anyone looking at her the wrong way but she could disrespect him in any way and he’d still be on his knees for her. He had never been as obedient to his uncle. He had feared him as a little boy and then he had hated him, waiting for his turn on the Harkonnen throne. The obedience to his wife was dictated by admiration and… sentiment.

Yes, that was a new word in his dictionary.

And his harpies… Well, he had been attached to them but killing them had felt cold – he hadn't even felt sorry.

The room slowly filled with people who were to witness his nomination for the Governor of Arrakis. Feyd stood proudly and already imagined the day he would be nominated The Baron Harkonnen.

And when his uncle officially named him the Governor, Feyd grabbed his face and brought it down for an angry kiss that was a mockery of gratitude. In that kiss there was a promise of the upcoming succession of the much more important title. In that kiss there was the Harkonnen poison and everyone cheered but the Baron knew.

He knew.

You were laying on your bed on the ship inside your cabin and playing with the Atreides signet ring on your pinky finger. It felt surreal to realise that under different circumstances you would had made the same journey a few months earlier with your family when your father had been gifted Arrakis.

Your stream of thoughts was interrupted abruptly by Feyd walking inside the cabin.

“Apparently, Rabban has no idea we are coming,” he announced with a smirk and sat on the bed next to you, waiting for your approval like a little boy after telling his mother exciting news.

“Why do you hate him so?” You only asked and his smirk dropped in an instant. “Is he not your brother?”

“Do you love yours?” Feyd tilted his head a little as he watched you carefully.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you smiled sadly at him and caressed your bump. “He is dead and so is his older sister. But in that relationship, I was Rabban and Paul was you.”

“I am better than Rabban. He means nothing,” Feyd shrugged his arms, visibly annoyed at the fact that you scolded him and started asking questions instead of sharing his excitement.

“Do you think you will catch a tan on Arrakis?” You changed the subject and chuckled at the confused glance he gave you.

“I’m not going there for vacation,” he moved closer to you on the bed and placed his hand on your womb. You felt its warmth spreading all over your body. “And neither are you,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“The medic says that the Arrakis might do you good. The sun and all,” Feyd explained, a bit awkwardly.

“Yes, I know. But it is also not a very pleasant environment. It is hot and dry,” you sighed. “And full of spice.”

“You will have everything you want and need there, my Baroness,” Feyd leaned in to suck on your neck – his idea of a romantic kiss. You leaned back and sighed at the pleasure.

“How big do you think he is now?” You caressed your husband’s hand gently and he moved away from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. “Our son. Do you think he is still smaller than your hand?” You bit on your lower lip. “I like to imagine him so little that your hand covers him whole when you place it on my womb.”

“Do you think of him often?” Feyd asked and you furrowed your brows at his question.

“Of our son?” You wanted to make sure and he nodded. “All the time,” you answered with all honesty. “And you…?” You asked, carefully.

“All the time,” Feyd nodded and looked down at his hand caressing your bump.

“And what do you think?” You were scared to know the answer but you needed to know it.

“I’m proud to have a son. He will be the Baron one day and I will train his body to become even stronger than mine. And you will train his mind to be sharp like yours,” Feyd looked at you. He was serious but you chuckled at that as you caressed his cheek with your thumb.

“Just promise me that you won’t do to him what has been done to you,” you whispered as the smile disappeared from your face. “Please,” you pleaded.

“It has to be done,” was all he said as his jaw clenched.

“No, it doesn’t,” you shook your head. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes. Thinking of what your husband had gone through was painful enough but imagining your son going through the same thing was even worse.

“How else do you want him to be a great warrior?” Feyd laughed at you. “He will need discipline.”

“Discipline does not have to mean abuse. I want him to follow your steps out of admiration and respect. Do you want your own son to feel the same way towards you that you feel towards your uncle?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want your son to plot how to get rid of you? To wait impatiently for you to finally die and rot?”

“No, I do not,” he admitted after a short while of hesitation.

“Then we will do it my way,” you stated.

“I don’t want my children to be weaklings,” Feyd drawled as his hand squeezed your womb possessively.

“Neither do I,” you assured him. “And it insults me greatly that you think that I would raise them to be weak. I hate weakness,” you gave him a stern look.

“There’s your answer why I hate my brother,” he said and moved down to lay his head on your womb. You carefully caressed his temples in a soothing manner.

You still had to play little games with him sometimes, you assumed it would always be like this one way or another. But you loved him. Yes, you loved him.

Princess Atreides would rather die than admit that. For the Harkonnen na-baroness it was difficult to admit her feelings, too. But you didn’t mind giving up and finally allowing yourself to confess the truth. It was making you feel less lonely in the world. Perhaps it was love dictated by the fact you had no one else around. Perhaps you loved the way he worshipped you. Perhaps you loved him for the way he was making you feel so powerful and important. But at the end of the day, it was love. Not that you planned to say it out loud.

It was true that you hated weakness but Feyd-Rautha was yours. If he was to die, you’d die, too. You had no home to go to, no family member to turn to. All you had was him. Him and the dream of the life you two were supposed to live one day.

You knew that the black colour was a bad choice for the planet like Arrakis. But you couldn’t imagine wearing anything else. As a Harkonnen you had to establish dominance in your House’s way. Your arrival dress had to be black and made of a flowy material with a semi-transparent veil to protect your skin from the hot rays of sunshine and the wind full of harsh sand and spice.

The very first step you took outside the ship nearly made you dizzy. It felt so odd after so many months to feel the sunlight on your skin and to see the colours while not being inside any building – even if the colours of Arrakis were not many.

“My Lady,” Astra and Cara followed you outside, both widening their big, black Harkonnen eyes at the sight of the desert, “are you alright?”

“Yes, my girls, I am,” you held their hands.

“Let’s go inside, na-baroness,” the medic joined you. “At this time of the day it is recommended not to go out,” he explained and you nodded before following him with your girls, guards and all the servants carrying your things. Feyd was already inside the palace with his uncle and dealing with an embarrassed and humiliated Rabban.

You looked up through your veil and examined the sight of the building in front of you. It was not much cosier than the Harkonnen fortress on Giedi Prime. On the inside the design was raw as well, but some part of you was already used to such an environment.

“My Lady,” one of the servants approached you. He had already been living there for quite some time now as he had come to Arrakis with Count Rabban. “Shall we prepare the rooms for you and na-baron or will you take the room that belonged to the previous Duke? Count Rabban did not take it, therefore we left it untouched,” he informed you and you froze for a second.

“My father’s room? It is left untouched?” You gasped.

“Yes, my Lady na-baroness, Duchess Atreides,” the man was bowing down so low you became concerned about his spine.

“Enough of the titles, take me there,” you ordered and then you turned around at your servants. “Wait here. I will let you know what room I am taking.”

“My Lady,” they all nodded as you followed the man alone. You didn’t want even Astra and Cara around you because you couldn’t tell what your reaction to your father’s chambers would be.

“Behind that door, na-baroness,” the servant bowed down and pointed at the doors. You pushed them and let them close behind you as your body trembled at the sight. You lifted the veil off of your face and looked around.

The room was arranged in a similar way as your father’s chamber back on Caladan. Duke Leto hated any form of mess and he had everything always put in its place. You wandered around and touched all the personal belongings – his chair, his desk… You froze at the sight of the pictures he had there. One picture was of him and Lady Jessica, the other one was of you and Paul. There was even a tiny picture from his wedding day with your mother. You remembered that picture very well as you had once asked him about it. He had told you he kept it out of respect for her and for you.

You had no idea he would still keep it even if you weren’t around.

You opened the desk. Someone had been rummaging inside – most likely to take the jewellery and the important documents. But the personal letters stayed. Personal letters and… a small doll.

You had given it to him at the age of four and asked him to take care of it. You didn’t expect he had been keeping it all these years.

“Oh, father…” you whispered and brought the doll close to your heart. “One day, it will be my daughter’s,” you decided and were about to walk away from the desk when you spotted an unfinished letter.

Carefully and curiously, you picked the paper up and read the few sentences that he had written down before taking a break and never being able to go back to it again.

Dear Daughter, I am aware of the anger and all the resentment you must be holding in your heart towards me. I am not asking for much but please, write back to us. If not for me, then do it for Paul. We both miss you dearly and we are worried when you are not answering our letters personally. All we want to know is if you are safe and…

Your eyes widened and your heart skipped a beat. So, they had been writing to you. All this time... And only Baron Harkonnen knew how many letters had been kept away from you. Of course he had lied to you. How could you be so stupid…?

You clenched your fist and then threw the crumpled paper back into the drawer. It didn’t change anything now. It brought you some peace, deep down, but it didn’t mean anything anymore. It wouldn't take back time.

You approached your father’s bed and spotted a robe laying there, discarded. He would wear that over his nightwear when he was leaving the room in the middle of the night due to an emergency. You assumed that the Harkonnen invasion was an emergency so sudden and violent that he had no time to put it on.

The robe was silk and dark green with the Atreides emblem on the chest. You sat on the edge of the bed and put the doll down on your lap before taking the robe in your hands and squeezing it as you brought it to your face. It still faintly smelled like him. It smelled like your father.

You buried your face in the silk and closed your eyes, remembering his embrace. For a short while it was almost as if he was still there, holding you and telling you it would be alright.

But it wasn’t alright. It hadn’t been alright and his daughter had died. You couldn’t tell when it happened exactly. Had Princess Atreides die in that cell on the night before her wedding? Or when she had been locked up after the Baron had told her about going to Arrakis and killing her family? Or maybe she had died somewhere in the meantime. Perhaps when she had seen Feyd taking an innocent life for the first time. It was really hard to tell but she was definitely gone now.

You startled at the sound of someone entering the room without knocking. It was Feyd – no one else would dare to do that.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said and froze at the sight of you holding your father’s robe. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you stood up and threw the robe on the floor as you picked the doll up. “Burn it,” you ordered. “And we’ll take a different room. They can clean up this one,” you approached him and handed him the doll in your hands. He took it, confused.

“What is this?” He asked.

“Our next child will be a daughter and you will give it to her when she is born,” you told him sternly.

He snorted at first but then he realised that you had been dead serious. The doll held lots of significance and meaning to you and he didn’t even have any idea how much you trusted him with it.

Feyd nodded his head after a long while and he looked down at the doll, awkwardly holding her in his pale hands.

“My Lady, what is your decision?” The servant knocked upon the door and joined you.

“I don’t want this room, clean it up,” you told him.

“Do you want a room next to your husband’s, na-baroness?” He asked.

“No, we will share one room,” you told him and he bowed down before leaving you quietly. “Unless you want your own,” you laid your eyes on Feyd.

“I want what you want.”

You were walking through the endless desert. It was like the oceans back on Caladan but instead of the water there was sand. The heat did not bother you and you did not feel tired at all. However, all this walking seemed pointless. You didn’t know where you were or where to go.

And then you spotted someone on the horizon. A tiny figure in a stillsuit and your heart skipped a beat. Was it one of the Fremen? You didn’t want to find out but your legs kept walking anyway as if you had no control over your body.

The figure remained motionless. After a while you spotted it was a man. You wondered why he was not reacting at all, seeing you walking towards him. Perhaps he was waiting for you. But why?

When you were close enough to see his face, you gasped. It was your brother, Paul Atreides, with his eyes blue from the spice, wearing a Fremen armour and he seemed to stare in the distance. Now you realised that he couldn’t see you even though you were facing him.

“Paul?” You asked as your body stopped walking with your face inches away from his. “Brother?”

He startled a little and furrowed his brows. Did he hear you…?

“Paul,” you said again and his eyes found yours.

“Sister,” his voice was different now. It was rough and held no affection. It made your blood run cold.

“What are we doing here?” You asked sadly. “Let’s go back home.”

“What is home now?”

“Caladan,” you explained.

“We cannot.”

You woke up abruptly and sat up, breathing heavily as you felt the sweat running down your spine and forehead. You had never experienced a dream so vivid and realistic as this one.

You assumed it was because of Arrakis. The heat could cause such a vision or perhaps it was all that buried deep down grief after losing your family. Being here now, in that palace where they had lived and died, it was making you feel odd.

Feyd woke up as well and you heard him reaching out for the knife underneath his pillow.

“It’s alright,” you told him. “I’ve just had a bad dream.”

“It’s your first night on Arrakis. Maybe it’s the spice messing with your head,” you felt his hand rubbing your back. “Lay down, come to me,” he whispered and you did.

You laid your head on his chest and hugged him tight like a scared child. Your heart was pounding and you felt dizzy. But you didn’t want to tell your husband what the dream was. He didn’t ask anyway.

On the next day you were gathered in a conference room. Everyone was there, the Baron and Count Rabban, too. You hoped that they would go back to Giedi Prime but it seemed like they wanted to stay and ensure that the spice production would go back to normal. You tried not to make a face at that as you watched the hologram globe of Arrakis in front of you on display.

“Shouldn’t the Fremen delegation greet the new Governor of Arrakis?” You asked.

“The Fremen do not have negotiations with us anymore. We are in the state of war, na-baroness,” one of the engineers answered you with a nod of his head.

“Let it be war, then,” you nodded back.

“What is causing the biggest problems?” Your husband asked as he gave his brother a contemptuous look. “Apart from the bad governing of the resources.”

“The Fremen have a new leader, a mysterious Muad’Dib,” The Baron explained and for some reason a shiver went down your spine at the mention of the name. You didn’t know why because it didn’t sound sinister or dangerous.

“And what about him?” Feyd asked. You could hear he was bored of the meeting and wanted real action as soon as possible.

“They are destroying our machinery and killing our soldiers, slowing down the production. He is unstoppable. Like a shadow,” Rabban explained and Feyd snorted at him.

“My big scary brother failed to deal with one Fremen savage,” he drawled. “Instead of slaughtering them all.”

“And what would our Baroness do?” The Baron interrupted Feyd and stared at you with a smirk. Suddenly, the whole room laid their eyes on you and you blinked a few times, surprised.

“Why would you ask a woman that?” Rabban inquired and Feyd hissed at him for that remark.

“Because I want to know her insight. Our Baroness happens to have interesting ideas,” Baron teased, his squinted eyes never leaving yours.

“I would oppose slaughtering the Fremen,” you stated.

“I’ve told you, she’s just a woman,” Rabban laughed.

“She is the Governess of Arrakis and your na-baroness and you will respect her,” Feyd barked.

“Enough!” You banged the fist on the table and the sound echoed through the chamber full of the Harkonnen servants and engineers widening their eyes at you. “Both of you!” You snapped. “Acting like children,” you scolded. “I am not the Governess of Arrakis, Feyd,” you laid your eyes on him and he looked a bit taken aback by your outburst. “That title does not work that way. You’re the Governor and I am your wife. However,” you looked at the Baron again. He was smirking all that time. “I do not think slaughtering them will bring us profit. They know the desert and the spice more than we do. We need them as obedient allies. But in order to have them as allies, we have to defeat them and their will to fight. We need to hit them with aggression that they have not yet seen nor experienced in their worst nightmares,” you raised your chin up.

“And that aggression is Feyd-Rautha,” Baron nodded at your husband.

“If we have negotiations with the Fremen in the future, I’d like to be there,” you announced and Rabban snorted. You knew that he did not mean these things personally, he was just frustrated that he was being replaced by his brother and seeing that an off-world woman was holding more influence than him had to be rough for his ego.

“What’s so funny, brother?” Feyd asked him and you rolled your eyes. They were at it again. “The only thing I find funny is how my wife has more brains than you.”

“And why is that funny?” You asked him, irritated.

“That is enough indeed,” Baron raised his hand. “We all have better things to do,” he announced and everyone bowed their heads as he left the room.

You watched your husband and his brother leaving right behind him, still having an argument like little children. Then you took a deep breath in and stood up to go back to Astra and Cara.

However, when you left the room, Feyd grabbed his brother’s neck and pushed him down on the floor. He basically threw him at your feet and you were surprised that he had managed it so easily since Rabban was a big and strong man.

“You will kiss her shoe and show your na-baroness respect,” Feyd ordered, “as you beg for her forgiveness.”

You looked down as Rabban looked up, scared. As much as it brought you some satisfaction to have a big, strong Harkonnen count who was called Beast Rabban at your feet, you felt sorry for him, too.

“Feyd, there is no need,” you looked at your husband.

“No, there is, because I say so,” he insisted and kicked his brother’s head. “He will kiss your shoe or die.”

“I said, there is no need,” you repeated, more sternly this time. “Your brother is not my enemy like he is not yours either,” you pointed out. “Stand up, Count Rabban,” you ordered the man.

Carefully and hesitantly he moved up, trying to avoid looking into your eyes.

“You shall remember the kindness I have given you,” you told him and he nodded. “Now, leave.”

You watched him walk away as fast as possible and then you looked at your husband. He wasn’t pleased but he was trying to hide it. You could tell when he was angry very easily from his facial expressions by now.

“Do not torment him. He might be useful,” you told him.

“He will do anything to keep his pathetic head on. He’s got no honour,” Feyd snorted at that. “He would kiss anyone’s shoe if his life depended on it.”

“Then he is more like me than I have expected,” you only said and walked past him, leaving him behind, surprised.

“You are not like him,” Feyd followed you as he grabbed your wrist. “You have honour.”

“Do I?” You chuckled and turned around to face him. “I did everything to survive. It had nothing to do with honour. I became a Harkonnen instead of doing what my Atreides pride was telling me to do and that was to kill myself before letting any of you hurt me or change me.”

“It is different,” he was trying to deny your words. You were confusing him now.

“You also do not have honour, Feyd-Rautha. The way you used to fight drugged warriors in the arena. It has nothing to do with honour,” you reminded him as his jaw clenched. “And you know what? I don’t care,” you shrugged your arms. “My father, he was an honourable man. And look where it has gotten him. We are too cunning for honour.”

“We?” Feyd asked.

“The Harkonnens,” you explained and cupped his face to pull his head down and place a kiss upon his forehead. “Now, go, weren’t you supposed to terrorise the poor Fremen?”

He smirked at you and leaned in to place a hungry kiss upon your lips as his hand caressed your womb.

“Be careful, my darling, come back to me in one piece from the treacherous desert,” you bid him farewell and kissed him one last time before going back to your chambers.

Weeks had passed and the mysterious Muad’Dib remained uncaught, however the spice production came back to full efficiency. It was difficult to celebrate such victory, though, because you weren’t even sure if it was because of Feyd-Rautha being a good Governor or was it because of his uncle who still was present on Arrakis. Both him and Rabban. You wondered how things had been back on Giedi Prime – especially now, when all the important Harkonnens were on Arrakis.

You had your girls and your medic and much less nosy guards following you everywhere. The Arrakeen Palace was giving you lots of freedom and safety but it was also a much more boring place than the fortress on Giedi Prime. It was full of ghosts, too – you couldn’t stop thinking your family had been slayed in that very place.

You kept dreaming of Paul each and every night. It was making you feel weary and frustrated at this point. You didn’t want Feyd to know so you often would leave the bed quietly in the middle of the night and walk outside to sit on the balcony. There was something fascinating about the desert; it was so calm yet dangerous. By day it was too hot to just stare and admire but at night it was peaceful and with no one around to bother you.

Tonight you were standing and admiring the moon in your nightgown, with your hand caressing your swollen womb. It was getting bigger and bigger each day and you could feel the child move now. The medic assured you he was placed properly and growing healthy. You wondered if your son would be born on Arrakis.

“What’s wrong?” Feyd’s voice made you turn around. He was standing by the entrance to the balcony and staring at you.

“I can’t sleep,” you lied. You could but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to dream of Paul.

“Again?” Feyd sighed and approached you. He stood behind you and leaned your body on his chest. It made you sigh out of relief and he placed his hands on your abdomen. “Perhaps the spice is doing you harm.”

“No, the medic would have noticed that,” you shook your head. “Perhaps it’s your son keeping me awake,” you made up a believable excuse and Feyd chuckled.

“And what are you doing here? Staring at the sand?”

“I don’t expect you to understand the beauty of the desert,” you teased. “But yes, the sand, the moon, everything.”

“When I will become the Baron, we will have a little tour and visit every planet under Harkonnen rule,” he whispered into your ear. “You will see many beautiful things, my darling pet.”

“And when will that be?” You snapped, frustrated. “In ten years? A hundred?” You snorted.

“What are you talking about?” Feyd took a step back and leaned on the railing to take a better look at your face but you remained staring in the distance.

“What is he still doing here? I thought Arrakis was ours. Yet, he is here and it feels as if we are being supervised. Meanwhile, Giedi Prime remains without protection,” you drawled through gritted teeth.

“If you were him, would you leave us two to each other?” Feyd asked.

“Are you by his side again?” You finally looked at him, angrily. “He gave you the planet to govern and you’re defending him again?”

“I am not defending him,” Feyd got angry, too, at your words. “But it is obvious why he stayed here. He knows we might be plotting. He needs to keep an eye on things.”

“I have already plotted,” you lowered your voice and went back to staring at the moon.

Feyd kept looking at you in silence for a while before he finally spoke up again.

“And what is that?”

“He shall be slayed by night alongside most of the guards and servants. We will say it was a nighttime assassination attack by Muad’Dib and his people. They targeted the Harkonnen nobility and you were too busy saving your pregnant wife to help your uncle,” you whispered.

“Everyone will know the truth, it's too obvious,” Feyd told you. “It's only giving us an alibi for those who want to believe in it.”

“Of course they will suspect what really happened but they will not care. You showed them your worth in the arena and you brought back the full efficiency of the spice production. The Harkonnen lords will give you a chance. I am sure they’ve already grown tired and weary of the Baron,” you kept convincing him.

“What if Muad’Dib suddenly decides to show up and deny?”

You sighed and looked at him again, furiously.

“Just admit that you don’t want him dead, because in some way I cannot understand… you love him,” you hissed at him.

“Love?” It was the first time you heard him use that word and it brought a chill down your spine. It sounded so off and scary when your husband said it out loud. “I don’t know what that pathetic feeling is,” he assured you.

“I can see that,” you raised an eyebrow at him and walked away to leave the balcony and go back to your bedroom.

You were hurt, angry and frustrated and it was starting to bring tears to your eyes but you didn’t want him to see that.

Your husband followed you to the bedroom. In the way his footsteps were even heavier than usual, you spotted his annoyance as well.

“What do you expect of me? You’re so impatient, woman,” he started once the doors closed behind him. “You want everything and you want it now. I said I’d do it, I swore I’d do it but you admitted yourself we have to wait longer. If he dies here at night, do you think the noble lords of Giedi Prime will accept that so easily?”

“Then slay the ones who refuse to accept you as the successor!” You turned around with the rage making your blood boil. “Slay everyone standing in our way, as you promised. Do you want our son to be born in a world that he is manipulating for his own gain? Do you want to be his dog following the orders for the next few years? I am tired of playing the games with him on his own chess board. I want to make my own game, my own rules, my own board!” You tried to keep your voice down in case someone would spy on you but it was difficult with all that anger pouring out of you.

In one swift move, Feyd grabbed your chin and squeezed your cheeks as he brought your face so close to his that your noses were rubbing each other. There was so much anger in his eyes that the old you would start trembling out of fear for her life but the new you didn’t even flinch.

“Keep your voice down, we will do it,” he spat out.

“No,” you mumbled. “You will do it. You’re the hand that slays,” you reminded him and he kissed you so hungrily that you became breathless.

“I still want to kill you sometimes,” he confessed between one kiss and another as he led you back to your bed and laid you down on the mattress. “Choke you, slit your pretty little throat, watch you squirm under me as you bleed to death.”

“Whatever turns you on, my darling,” you chuckled at him as he looked at you sternly.

“If I hurt you, I’d kill myself right after. I’m bound to you forever,” he confessed and you smiled gently.

You didn’t want to tease him that after all, he did know what love was. After all, he did feel it. But you knew that he’d hate being confronted with the truth.

“If something happened to you, I would want to die alongside you, too,” you told him. “You’re the only one I have and none of my ambitions matter without you by my side.”

It was true. You didn't want to rule alone. In fact, you didn't want to ever feel lonely in your life again.

You were sitting next to Paul and watching the sunset in silence. In your dreams you would always meet him in the desert. Nothing else seemed to exist on Arrakis in the dreamworld – except for you and him.

“Why do you haunt me?” You asked and laid your eyes on his angry face. He was always so angry these days.

You hated Paul from your dreams. He was different. There was no kindness and gentleness about him anymore. If you were supposed to be haunted by his ghost, you’d rather be haunted by the brother you had remembered instead.

“I am not here for you,” Paul snorted and you furrowed your brows. Then he looked down at your swollen womb and you instinctively protected it with your hands.

“What do you mean?” You gasped.

“The spawn inside you shares my blood on both sides,” he answered mysteriously, which confused you greatly but you decided not to give it a second thought. After all, it was just a dream. “No, it is not,” Paul smirked viciously at you, as if he was able to read your thoughts.

“Get up,” you heard Feyd’s rough voice as his hand shook your arm. You woke up abruptly and sat up, trying to calm yourself after the dream.

“What’s going on?” You asked and looked around the dark room.

“Come with me,” your husband looked very pleased with himself as he pulled you out of the bed.

“What are you–”

“Shh,” he put his finger over his mouth as he led you outside.

You gasped at the sight of the bodies scattered all over the corridor of the palace. Servants and guards with their throats slit, laying in poodles of their own blood.

“Have you done that?” You asked quietly and Feyd nodded. “My girls…” you gasped.

“I haven’t touched your pets,” he assured you and stopped in front of the doors leading to the Baron’s chambers.

“Have you killed him…?” You were both excited and terrified of the outcome if the answer was yes. But, most importantly, you were in shock.

“Not yet,” Feyd answered as he pushed the doors open in front of you.

Not sure what his words meant, you entered the chamber carefully and spotted the Baron on his bed, letting out loud and raspy breaths. His life support machinery was no longer attached to him; you assumed Feyd had decided to give him a slow death.

You looked at your husband and spotted a sadistic sparkle in his eye as he was visibly enjoying the sounds and the view. He put his arm around you and walked you closer to the Baron’s bed.

That old and sick man looked pathetic at that moment and for a short while you even felt sorry for him. His eyes widened even further at the sight of you as he raised one of his hands towards you but you took a step back.

You didn’t know what to expect of him on his deathbed. Some part of you craved for him to admit his defeat and name you a worthy successor of the Harkonnen throne. Some other part of you expected him to curse you and your whole bloodline, which would be quite justified.

However, you certainly did not expect the sheer desperation and debasement.

“P-please…” He could barely speak. “Please, help me,” he tried to reach out for you.

You didn’t feel sorry for him anymore. You felt disgusted.

“You’re a weakling,” you smirked at him. “You called my father weak but I am sure that he did not beg like a dog on his deathbed. I am sure he died with dignity.”

“Please, help me…” He coughed out. “Help me and I will make your son an Emperor…”

“I do not need you to make my son an Emperor,” you laughed with contempt. “I am to become The Baroness Harkonnen; commanding the largest army and possessing the biggest wealth in the galaxy.”

“F-Feyd, I was like a father to you…” He searched for his nephew’s cruel eyes now, giving up on asking for your compassion and pity. “My boy…”

“Like a father, you say,” Feyd drawled. “I couldn’t wait to kill you for so many years now.”

“Please…”

“Oh, shut him up, how long will it take for him to die?” You sighed with an eye-roll as Feyd nodded his head at you and grabbed the short knife attached to his hip.

“Farewell, dear uncle,” he smiled smugly as he slit the Baron’s throat.

You watched mesmerised, without even blinking. It felt like a dream more than reality.

“The Arrakeen Palace will be considered cursed for all the Barons and Dukes from now on,” you only said.

Without a word, Feyd dropped the blade and fell on his knees in front of you, pulling you close by your hips and burying his face in the fabric of your nightgown right where your womb was. You knew what he wanted. A praise, an approval, a blessing.

“My Baroness,” he breathed out.

“Stand tall, my Baron,” you caressed his head and he looked up. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight and you cupped his chin to caress his full lips with your thumb. “You’ve made me proud and happy, my darling,” you assured him.

He nodded at you and collected the discarded blade from the floor. It was important not to leave any trace. You both went back to your chambers and laid down in bed, pretending to be asleep – too excited to actually be able to drift off. This time you didn’t feel guilty even a little bit like after the death of the harpies. This time it didn’t even feel like murder or taking another human being’s life. This time it felt like nothing but relief.

You watched the sunrise through the window with your head on your husband’s chest and his hand rubbing your back, waiting for the remaining servants’ screams to signal the beginning of the new era.

There were screams indeed. People were running, yelling, banging on your door. Both Feyd and you acted surprised and startled at the news but Astra and Cara had to be the only people in the palace who actually believed your story. The medic inspected the Baron’s body and started to wonder if it really had been Muad’Dib’s work since the cuts did not remind of the Fremen weapons. Feyd only hissed at him so the medic stopped any further insinuations.

Count Rabban’s behaviour surprised you the most as he was following his brother around and seeming to act like the most loyal and obedient subject. He had quickly realised it was the best chance of survival for him. He hadn’t questioned anything so far and simply followed every word leaving his younger brother’s mouth.

Everything was a mess and chaos on that day but it was mostly Feyd dealing with it, basking in his new title and glory, as you were sitting on your bed with terrified Astra and Cara, holding them both and assuring them of their safety.

“How can you not be worried, na-baroness? I mean, Baroness?” Astra widened her eyes. “If Muad’Dib was here last night… Oh, I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if he went inside your chambers instead…”

“My husband would defend me,” you kissed her forehead and then you kissed Cara’s.

“What if he comes back?” Cara was shaking out of fear and you felt bad for making them feel like this but you couldn’t tell them the truth. “Now, when they know that we have fewer guards around?”

“We will be prepared this time,” you squeezed their hands. “My girls, I am sorry for being insensitive but I shall get dressed in mourning attire now and finally join my husband to help him with the officialties.”

Every lady travelled with a mourning dress just in case. Yours was a combination of black silk and black armour pieces with chains, connected to the matching headpiece. It looked dignified and intimidating – exactly how you wanted it to look like. You had already dreamt of The Baron’s death while planning your trip. Therefore the mourning dress you had chosen was accurate to your new role of The Baroness.

It sounded so good. For the upcoming days you would get drunk on the way people would address you. And then, when you'd finally be back on Giedi Prime, there would be a lavish celebration and official event for you two becoming the new Baron and Baroness. You couldn't wait for that day.

You smiled to yourself in the mirror and fixed the headpiece for one last time as you adjusted the Atreides signet ring on your pinky finger. On your pointing finger there was a huge ring with the Harkonnen emblem. And hidden between the folds of your dress and attached to the armour piece on your hip was the blade your husband had given you on the day of his birthday. No one could see it but you could reach for it swiftly in the case of emergency.

You joined Feyd in the conference room and everyone straightened at the sight of you. They always would but this time it felt different. You were the one holding the power – and they respected you for you, not for the fact that you were under protection of The Baron.

“Baroness,” they bowed down and went back to work, avoiding your gaze.

“How are things going?” You approached Feyd as he looked you up and down with a smirk. You put your hand on his chest.

“I sent Rabban back on Giedi Prime with our uncle’s body,” he told you and held your hand to lay a kiss upon it. “He will take care of the affairs there until we finish our business on Arrakis. I want to take care of that Muad’Dib rat before returning home and finding someone worthy to replace me as the Governor here. Rabban will also send us more Harkonnen troops since we have lost many guards last night,” he informed you in an official manner.

“We must avenge our late Lord Baron,” you clenched your jaw as you nodded. His eyes sparkled with mockery as he pretended to look worried.

You were sure that most people in that room had known the truth but they kept their poker faces on and allowed you to play out this little scene.

“My Lord,” one of the engineers raised his voice, concerned. Feyd turned around and you both stared at the hologram of the Arrakis globe. Red dots started to appear on the orbit. “We have guests,” the engineer explained. “The ships are definitely not ours.”

“Who is it?” Feyd barked at him. “Find that out, we are not expecting anyone,” he looked at you, a little concerned.

You were not pleased with the idea of guests now, out of all times, either.

“Who dares to interrupt our peace unannounced on the day after our late Lord Baron’s tragic death?” You asked out loud, playing your mourning role the best you could.

What a mockery it was that you had to be hiding all the grief after your actual family but had to display fake tears for the man you had hated with every fibre of your being.

“M-my Lord, my Lady…” the engineer turned around with his eyes widened, “it’s the Emperor himself… The whole imperial delegation.”

You and Feyd looked at each other.

“It took them days to get here. There is no way they are here because of last night’s incident,” Feyd pointed out. “Still, I do not understand. I have brought the spice production back to full efficiency. What could be the reason for his visit?”

You moved uncomfortably as your son kicked your rib. As if he too knew of the importance of this sudden imperial audience. It would be the first time you’d greet someone of such importance as The Harkonnen Baroness and it would be the first time you’d see the Emperor face to face. He had visited your father a few times on Caladan but children had not been allowed near their meetings.

“We have to greet him and find out,” you took a deep breath in, preparing yourself mentally for the first challenge in your new role.

You shot Feyd a glance and he nodded at you, reassuringly. With him by your side, it couldn’t go that bad, you tried to convince yourself. His presence was equipping you with courage and determination you had not known before.

Everything you were doing now, you were doing for the two of you and your future. Nothing else mattered.

MASTERLIST

#dune x reader #dune fanfic #dune imagine #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen fanfic #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction #tttw

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jen-with-a-pen · 7 months

Text

⊹-୨୧-⊹𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓⊹-୨୧-⊹

⊹–SUMMARY–⊹ Inexperienced and still freshly-traumatized by his first heartbreak, Steve Rogers decides to finally move away for college after taking two gap years to work, save, and help his Ma around the house. It’ll be good for him. Away from his ex. Away from his hometown. He's excited to finally chase his dreams and begin again as a promising fine arts student at Richards College. Well, almost. Thanks to a generous scholarship spanning the next four years of his life, Steve is required to participate in on-campus Greek life. It’s simple: join a frat. They shouldn't be too intimidating. At least they're not as bad as they are in the movies, right? Right..?

⊹–PAIRINGS–⊹ Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!F!Reader

⊹–WARNINGS–⊹ more to be added as series progresses frat bros being frat bros, sorority sisters being sorority sisters, manipulation, coercion, blackmail, fluff, angst, whump, explicit forced s3xual acts, slow burn, dissociation, nud1ty, dubcon (bordering noncon), forced drvgging, mentions of kidnapping, emotional damage, Steve's just trying his best, Bucky and Sam are major frat bros, Tony and Clint are somewhere I swear The warnings listed here are not exhaustive but generally encapsulate the series as a whole and do not represent every single chapter. Please be mindful and read the chapter warnings!

Read this fic on AO3!

The Richards College Playlist

Steve's Playlist

any art featured in the series title header and story-specific dividers was found on pinterest and is used in good faith. all credit goes to the original artists, as i could not find accurate credit for any. collage done by me

Spam liking my works will result in an automatic block!

ALL TIED UP: STEVE'S WEEK

–⊹– One: Saturday, currently.

–⊹– Two: Last Monday.

–⊹– Three: Last Tuesday.

–⊹– Four: Last Wednesday.

–⊹– Five: Last Thursday.

–⊹– Six: Saturday, still.

–⊹– Seven: Last Friday.

–⊹– Eight: Saturday, again.

–⊹– Nine: Saturday, again.

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asimplearchivist · 9 months

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‘ 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓶𝔂 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓮 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ steven, unbeknownst to him, meets the love of his life at one of its lowest points. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader word count ☾ 15.7k a/n ☽ [gif credit] ⤏ aka my personal love letter to one steven grant (and myself, because I want to be loved like I love just once). ⤏ i am going to be completely honest on this one, guys: this is a borderline self-insert fic that is 100% self-indulgent on my part bc i have felt like shit the last two months and want to treat myself. ⤏ i kept it as a reader-insert because a) some people (including myself) enjoy experiencing different ‘pov’s of reader-inserts, per se; b) it’s easier to be kinder to and romanticize myself when it’s ‘not me’; and c) i feel that it’s still vague/inclusive enough to be counted as a general reader-insert versus labeling it strictly as a self-insert/original character. i really only describe personality traits and the reader being petite, really (bc nothing comforts my 5’0” ass more than knowing i would actually be able to kiss the boys without craning my neck all the way back tbh). i use a few southern colloquialisms, too, just fyi. :) ⤏ typical moon knight fanfic disclaimer: I don’t claim to know very much about did beyond what I’ve gleaned from both the show, the various meta posts I’ve read on tumblr, and from other fanfics themselves, so please forgive and correct me on any glaring discrepancies/issues I may have presented here (or link me any posts that discuss more accurate representations of did, perhaps—that’d be greatly appreciated). some of the terminology/technicalities escape me. I tried my best to get their voices and characterizations just right, and I sincerely hope I succeeded bc they’re very special to me. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

The first time Steven met you, it was strictly by happenstance.

He had always considered himself a man with many friends. Although his routine was relatively simple compared to other Londoners who thrived in social settings and spent all of their free time anywhere but home to mingle and chase tail, he had familiar faces he saw frequently. He committed their names to memory when they’d give them off-handedly, he made a point to speak to them in passing even if he or they were otherwise occupied, and he kept a mental list composed of all the details he was able to glean strictly from observation when they didn’t readily volunteer the information.

Perhaps it was a little silly. All lot of them had trouble remembering him, sure, but he couldn’t hold it against them—tons of people had trouble keeping track of faces and people. Sure, JB never quite got his name right even after Steven had worked at the museum for a couple of months by now, but he was a busy man monitoring the security cameras all day long and stayed distracted (with his infatuation with otters, no less—as endearing of a trait as any for someone with a secret soft side). Donna stayed in a tizzy, always worked up over something beyond her control (Steven couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be dealing with the higher-ups trying to meet goals and attempting to exceed them). He didn’t really dislike them for it, even if it had grown rather grating as of late. (Even if it would only take them both a moment to look at his conveniently given and placed nametag.)

Crowley didn’t talk much, all part of the gig, so Steven didn’t hold their one-sided conversations against him, either. The gentleman with the broom cart (whose name Steven never had managed to catch, as gruff as he was) seemed only to ever respond with grunts. The security guards, the tour guides, the usual suspects on the morning and night bus rides…Steven interacted with them all, and they had enough good graces to acknowledge it most of the time.

Over time, however, as his dreams (or perhaps more aptly named nightmares) grew more vivid and more bizarre, as he seemed to lose track of time more and more (how exactly does one manage to miss an entire weekend when one isn’t a blackout drunk?), and as Steven’s anxiety led him into taking more and more precautions to make sure his self-diagnosed sleepwalking disorder didn’t strand him on the other side of London (again), it became more readily apparent that those people with whom he took such care to converse did not seem particularly inclined to return the favor. Sure, he’d accidentally nodded off a few times leaning on the other passengers in the morning bus, ran a little late at times getting to the museum (much to Donna’s ever-increasing ire), and maybe got a little carried away with his nattering when he got invested in something he was excited to share information about, but…would it really kill someone just to respond long enough to reassure him that he wasn’t virtually invisible?

It was one such morning after he overslept, convinced he was late, and worked himself into a right and proper state trying to get to the museum on time that he realized that it was, in fact, Sunday, not Saturday. Much to his bewilderment but proven by his phone, the museum stood barren and closed, doors locked and lights off. He stood at the entrance staring at his dumbfounded expression in the glass for a good five minutes, thoughts racing as he tried to recall anything about the previous day. There was no way he slept an entire day, right? He hadn’t been staying up too late trying to manage his disorder, even if he had been running a little tired lately.

His distress was punctuated by a fat, chilly droplet landing right on his nose. The early spring weather was unseasonably cold this year, leading to an abnormally wet season (as if rain could ever be abnormal in London, but the meteorologists remained convinced), and within seconds of Steven turning and trotting down the steps the skies parted and released their torrential downpour as if just to spite him specifically. Everyone else in the immediate vicinity, if they weren’t holed up in their cars or the myriad establishments bordering the museum district, already had their umbrellas up to shield themselves from the frigid onslaught, ambling along and circumnavigating the puddles lingering from the storm the night before..

Steven shrank into his coat, tugging the collar up and over his head as best he could as he crossed the street and aimed for the first building he saw with its neon, ivory OPEN sign glowing against the gloom—on the corner directly across from the museum entrance. The door was heavy, the handle cold enough he was surprised his palm didn’t stick to it, but he managed to pry it open and tumble inside.

A few people glanced up from their tables to give him a range of skeptical to humored looks before going about their business. Steven hedged to the side of the door in case someone else came in, dripping onto the old hardwood with no small amount of regret.

It was a coffee shop. Comfortingly warm against his numb face, he basked in the scents of espresso and sweets permeating the place. His attention was caught by the bookshelves on the wall to his right, and he was entranced—all until a barista slipped out from the kitchen and addressed him with a croon. “Oh, goodness, look like the weather caught you!”

Steven almost accidentally ignored you thinking that you were talking to someone else (for so rarely did someone speak to him in a tone that wasn’t irritated or dismissive). After his cursory glance in your direction, he did a double-take, realizing you were looking right at him.

“Yeah, I—looked at the forecast wrong, methinks!” he responded sheepishly (and he had—he’d been expecting Saturday’s overcast mist, not Sunday’s shower). “I’m makin’ a right mess, aren’t I? I should probably go before I warp the stain—”

“No! No, just wait a second.” You raised a placating palm before dipping below sight behind the counter. You emerged and rounded the corner next to the display case holding a towel, walking right up to him and offering it to him with a sympathetic smile. “I can’t count the number of times I thought I could beat Mother Nature,” you joked. “It sucks that it’s been so cold on top of it. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten sick.”

Steven accepted it graciously, muttering his earnest thanks as he went about mopping up his sopping curls. Once he’d wiped all the rain he could off of him, he handed it back to you. “Hope I don’t get one, neither,” he responded. “It just wouldn’t do to catch cold in the middle of all this, would it? No.”

You chuckled a bit, eyes glittering with mirth. “Maybe it’ll help if I get you something hot to drink?”

Steven glanced at the menu hanging on the wall behind the counter, eyes rounding a little at the prices. He’d overspent on books again after payday, so he was having to be a bit more frugal this week than usual. “Oh, no, don’t go to the trouble, I’ll just call a cab and get a ride home before it gets too bad.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assured him, wringing the towel between your hands. You hesitated only a heartbeat before you leaned in a little closer, smile turning a bit bashful. “I’ll make it on the house, how’s that sound?”

Steven normally considered himself one to give where charity was concerned, but he had to admit that the sound of something warm on his urgently empty stomach was divine at the moment. He cleared his throat, glancing towards the other customers still wrapped up in their own little worlds. “No, I couldn’t—wouldn’t want anyone jealous that they’re not gettin’ the special treatment, you know.”

“It can be our little secret,” you offered quietly, winking conspiratorially at him.

He blinked, heat creeping up into his face. “Oh, well. If you insist, then…just this once?”

“All right.” Your smile lit up your entire face, and you headed back behind the counter to deposit the towel in an unseen hamper.

Steven followed, training his eyes on the menu—the standard fare was reasonable, with alternative options for dietary restrictions. A lot of the custom concoctions did seem lovely, and he was a tad surprised to discover that they served breakfast and lunch, also—with vegan options, most notably. “Wow, I never even knew this place existed. I must’ve been walkin’ right by it this whole time.”

“Do you work at the museum?” you inquired, folding your arms over the counter and propping your chin up in your palm.

“I do, actually,” he beamed, though it was dashed a tad with his next confession. “I want to be a tour guide one day—you know, I’ve been studyin’ up for it and all—but they’ve got me in the gift shop. For now! They said they’d move me up with a new position becomes available.” They said that they would consider him for the role, but Steven clung to his hope that they’d soon realize how bloody good he’d be at it, as hard as he’d been working for it for so long.

“You always have to start somewhere,” you replied warmly. You gestured to the shop around you. “This is just to hold me over ‘til I’m finished up.”

“Are you a transfer student?” Steven asked.

Your brow rose slightly, but your smile didn’t waver. “How observant. Most people ask me how I got lost on this side of the pond.”

“It isn’t often I see Americans anywhere but in the more touristy spots,” he agreed, “but the university is quite prestigious. You must be very academically successful if you landed a transfer scholarship like that.”

“It took a lot of work,” you admitted, “but it’s been worth it. I never thought I’d do anything like this, and I would’ve laughed at you a couple of years ago if you’d told me I’d move this far away from home. I’ve never really been the traveling type, but I’m so grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to do so.”

“What are you studyin’?” Steven inquired. An English major, perhaps—you struck him as the literary type with your articulation, despite your soft, southern drawl.

“Oh.” Your face darkened and you fiddled with the hem of your sweatshirt—dark gray, warm flannel, with a silver astronomical design embroidered into the front. “Well. I went to a university back home and got a degree in writing—” Nailed it! “—but I was notified at graduation that I qualified for this so I thought why not? It’s a bit self-indulgent, really, as I’ve always been a history nut, but I’m, um…” You reached up and scratched the nape of your neck, glancing away as though embarrassed. “...focusing on Egyptology?”

Steven’s brows shot halfway up his forehead. “No kiddin’!”

“Nope,” you confessed, a bit sheepish. “I picked up a book with pictures of King Tutankhamun’s treasures when I was three and I’ve been in love with it since. Maybe it’s a little niche, but it makes me happy—I’m taking other history classes, too, so I’ll end up with an Ancient History major with a minor in Egyptology—that’s just my main focus since I always wanted to be an Egyptologist when I was little. I don’t know that I could ever stand the heat, though, so I’m happy with writing in the comfort of my own home.”

“No, that’s great!” he raved, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m a bit of a history buff meself! The museum has a huge Egyptology exhibit coming up next month, so I’ve been brushin’ up on it all. You know, in case I get to audition.”

“Oh, yeah?” you tried, emerging from your shell just a bit. “Do you have a favorite period?”

“New Kingdom, definitely,” he said immediately. His heart was thrumming, and he was trying (in vain) to contain at least the majority of his enthusiasm. “There’s just so much material to go through. All the texts recovered from Deir el-Medina fascinate me to no end!”

“Yeah, Paneb was a right bastard,” you joked. “He had the whole town stirred up all the time. But we’re not going to talk about Ea-Nasir.”

“Oh, yeah—imagine keepin’ all your hate mail for posterity,” he returned, strumming his fingers against the inside of his sleeves. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m an Old Kingdom gal,” you said with a chuckle. “Pepi II’s letter about the pygmy won me over. Not to mention all the drama with Teti’s assassination. The workmen’s village at Giza? Oh, how could I pick one thing?”

Finally! Finally, it felt like Steven was talking to someone that spoke his language!

“It’s really hard to, isn’t it?” His stomach was starting to grumble. He cleared his throat, tamping down his anticipation just enough to concentrate on the matter at hand. He glanced up at the menu again, a little remiss with some of the unfamiliar choices—most of those displayed were coffee, but he’d been trying to curb himself off of it in favor of cutting out caffeine altogether for a better sleep schedule. “I, um…sorry, got a little sidetracked there. What would you recommend that’s decaf?”

“Oh, I love chai,” you told him. “Most of the teas we carry are decaf, though we do have decaf coffee, too. We’ve got all the usuals like chamomile, mint, Earl Grey…” You tilted your head slightly. “I’ve been avoiding caffeine since I was a teenager—it makes me antsy.”

“How do you normally take your chai?” he queried, curious.

“As an iced latte,” you said. “Cold foam, cinnamon, whole milk. I like it warm, too, especially this time of year, but there’s something about it iced that I can’t seem to part from—maybe that’s the southern upbringing in me.” You gestured to the equipment behind you. “Would you like to try it?”

“Yeah, sure! But with oat milk, please?”

“You’ve got it, darlin’,” you beamed, and set to work immediately. “I usually drink a small since it’s a bit sweet, that okay?”

“Certainly.”

Never would Steven have thought that he’d find such a deeply kindred soul a stone’s throw away from his workplace he’d never even noticed before today. He had to confess that he was charmed by you almost instantly. It had been a while since he’d met someone so engaging and open—not to mention generous and drop-dead gorgeous to boot! Ironic, really, that the foreigner was treating him more kindly than his native kinsmen. What did the Americans say about southern hospitality?

“Thank you so much,” he said when you returned with the cup and set it in front of him. “It looks great!”

“Go ahead and try it,” you suggested, “and if you don’t like it, I’ll replace it for you with something else.”

Steven had absolutely no intention of telling you to your face that he disliked your favorite beverage, even if he did decide it wasn’t to his taste—much less make you go out of your way to make him another free drink. But as he sipped the heady, sweet mixture the spices melted over his tongue. Despite being served cold, the flavors warmed his mouth and settled cozily into his belly.

“Oh,” he suspired, licking the foam from his lips, “that’s lovely. You’ve won a convert.”

Your smile was nearly blinding with delight. “I’m glad! It’s not for everyone, certainly, but those who do like it always seem to love it. No in between, I guess.”

Steven resisted the urge to suck the entire thing down, folding it between his hands instead as he committed more details of your appearance to memory. Your black apron was a bit big for your frame, dwarfing you a bit, but your sweatshirt did, too—your jeans were well-fitted but not snug. You were wearing very little makeup, just a touch around the eyes, but it emphasized your lashes like a fawn’s. While comfortable, if a bit plain, your ensemble made you seem like the epitome of homey.

“How long have you lived in London?” he asked after another delightful sip.

“Since the start of spring semester,” you said. “It was a big adjustment to show up at the tail end of winter, but I think I’ve gotten the hang of it now for the most part. I still get lost occasionally, but that’s why Google Maps was invented. I’d be up a creek without a paddle without it.” You leaned against the counter again, bracing yourself on the stained surface and gazing up at him as if there existed no other person in the world. “I live right next to the campus, but I work here to get away even though my scholarships carry most of my bills and fees. Ironic, though, ‘cause I don’t exactly consider myself a socialite.”

“You’ve fooled me,” he said with a chuckle. “Bit odd bein’ an ambivert, yeah?”

“I really only talk a lot when I get excited or when I’m with people I’m comfortable being around,” you confessed shyly. “I’ve been told I talk too much about stuff nobody really cares about, so I try not to bother anyone.”

“Now who on earth would have gone and told you that?” he pressed, heart aching all the while. How many times had he been told the very same thing, sometimes with less polite wording?

“Oh, not exactly like that,” you rectified in a hurry, “it’s just…you can tell, you know? When someone isn’t really paying attention to anything you’re saying. I usually get interrupted anyway, so sometimes I find it easier just to keep quiet.” Your skin darkened again, and cleared your throat as you dipped your face to conceal it with a hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I went into all that. See? Rambling too much—words got away from me.”

It was like looking into a mirror—so much so that Steven almost felt a bit of deja-vu.

“No, don’t be sorry,” he said softly. “I understand completely—really, I do. Better than you might think.”

You raised your gaze back up to him, and he understood at once why the philosophers and poets both waxed so romantic on the concept of windows to the soul. He could see your tenderness, your diffidence, your sincerity all there in your jewel-like eyes.

“People talkin’ over you all the time,” he continued with a low murmur, looking down at the cup when the intensity of your stare grew too much—just like looking directly into the sun, “actin’ like you’re invisible or somethin’. Gets frustratin’, yeah? Couldn’t even bother to act like you’re there, could they? No. Seems like too much to ask.”

“Yeah,” you said somberly, but when Steven dared a glance up at you, your expression was one of complete understanding. Never before had he felt so seen. “It doesn’t help when you’re really not a people person to begin with.”

And now that Steven considered it more deeply, he realized that you were right—why did he prefer to stay home rather than go out? Keeping company with a goldfish certainly wasn’t an extrovert’s definition of a good time. Hell, the only reason he really went out of his way to engage with those on the fringes of his daily routine was because he felt it was rude not to because of constant exposure, not because he was itching to have the conversations themselves. He worried constantly that he’d overshare or annoy people, when most wouldn’t even think of it.

He let out a soft laugh, pressing a palm across his forehead.

You quirked a brow, your expression perking up just a bit at the sound. “What?”

“I just realized I’m not really a people person, either,” he said, shaking his head. “Thought all this time everyone else was just awkward at social interaction.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, and there was that ephemeral sparkle of mirth back in your eyes. “Well. Better late than never, right?”

“Right.” He paused, then set the drink on the counter to fish around in his pocket for his wallet. “Here, since you’ve been an absolute angel—”

“Oh, no, please,” you said, waving your palms at him in an attempt to dissuade him, “it was my pleasure. Finding someone else as big of a nerd about Ancient Egypt was tip enough, thank you. You’ve made my whole day.”

And even though his morning thus far had been an utter disaster, Steven believed that you had made his entire day, too.

“Well, all right.” He pointed a finger at you with a wry, toothy grin. “But next time you won’t be able to talk me out of it.”

“Next time?” you echoed, and the unadulterated hope in your eyes made his heart clench.

“Yeah,” he said, “where else will I be able to order the ambrosia of the gods? And nerd out about ancient civilizations? Not all baristas carry a double-edged sword like you do.”

You bit your lip, rolled the hem of your sleeve between your fingertips, and looked down and away. “Oh, stop it. It’s really just a hobby.” You gave him another cheeky smile. “But, if it would make a difference to you, since you seem the type…” You leaned in across the counter, and Steven found himself copying the action as though you had magnetized him. “...there’s a bookstore upstairs, too.”

Oh, bloody Nora, as if you weren’t already perfect enough.

Read the rest of the chapter here! :)

#fisara's codices #fanfiction #moon knight #steven grant #reader insert #steven grant/reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant fanfiction

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lephamquynhnhu · 10 months

Text

Millennial Aegis

Chapter 2

Jing Yuan x Fem! reader

WARNINGS/ TAGS: Arranged marriage, the reader has a default name, smut, unprotected sex, OOC, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word count: ~2000

Summary: He is so stubborn to give up on you, and you are too hard-headed to reciprocate his affection. When do you both stop torturing each other?

Note: To be honest, I did not expect somebody to read this fic. However, there were still a (very) small number of readers who supported me. From the bottom of my heart, I sincerely appreciate your interaction.

Two knocking sounds resonate across the room driving you to jump a little. You hurry back to the designed spot and put on the veil again.

The next thing you hear is the main door open as the general gets himself in and closes it gently. You sit tight with your hands gripping the fabric on your lap. "I swear I can hear the heartbeats on my ear drum now.''

He saunters over to you, tenderly lifts the veil out of your face, and a soft smile appears on his lips. There is a sliver of sadness in your beautiful almond-shaped eyes, and he did not miss it.

"My consort looks so stunning today."

You froze on the spot, and your eyes widened a little at the intimated proximity. Admittedly, at this closeness, he is charming at this marked event, and you even can sense the alcohol through his breaths. Although Lord Jing Yuan smells like cedar blended with grape wine, he is not drunk and completely conscious. After a blank of silence, you open your words lamely.

"Greetings, Lord Jing Yuan."

His golden orbs waver shortly at the title with a rigid demeanor, yet he quickly recovers and holds out his arm.

"May I have a dance with milady?"

The general never fails to surprise you, and you start wondering what the meaning behind this uncommon activity is. However, you accept the invitation by holding his hand and saying no word. Things happened as Jing Yuan secretly forecasted because your spirit and body gradually relax when dancing the waltz. The romantic atmosphere and the low hum of classical music soothe your anxiety efficiently. Now, you understand why he became the prominent general of Xianzhou since this mastermind can handle any circumstance fluidly. After a moment, Jing Yuan slowly pulls you into his embrace and envelopes your figure completely.

"Please stay with me." - His hot breath breezes your hair.

You were petrified at his words and stayed still in his arms, completely dumbfounded. His heartbeat sounds like a peaceful song in your ear while giving him a silent treatment. The general slowly takes your chin in his hand and leans down to kiss your lips which you quickly melt into him.

Your heart starts racing again, and blushes are present on your cheeks. Many people say that the first kiss tastes like lemon, but to your sense, it is as sweet as maple syrup with a fermenting scent.

Lord Jing Yuan detaches himself after a while, skims over your face as if asking for further advance, and gives you a break. When receiving your implied permission, he immediately crashes his lips to yours again. This time, the general does not hold down and kisses you passionately. His arm moves to support your neck as he deepens into your mouth, and the other wraps around your waist possessively as if afraid of you changing your mind and running away from him. There was a psychological noise yelling at you to push the general away, but his affection penetrated and neutralized it, so you started feeling him.

Hectic yet gentle are the accurate adjective that describes his kiss right now as you close your eyes and reciprocate his kiss. You circle your arms around his neck, dive your hands into his head, and start swirling his long lock. They always remind you of cotton candy. You accidentally free the crimson tie causing his hair to run down like a silver stream covering your mind-eyes. When satisfied, Jing Yuan breaks the kiss and looks straight at you, his eyes full of lust, and abruptly carries you to the bed.

He continues to savor your lips while stripping your wedding dress and discarding the jewelry. The chaste kiss drags down to your jawline, then your neck, and stops at your collarbone to leave a hickey. You also trace your hand at the hem of the general's attire to help him undress, and he moans softly as he feels your cool fingertips grazing his warm skin. Your sanity yells that you will regret this, but the circumstance is unstoppable, and you both are married now.

After a moment, your eyes flush open to see the general hovering above you, his long lock trails aside and cascades to your right like a curtain.

Lord Jing Yuan's muscles look like steel, and his fair skin seems radiant under the dim light. He smiles at you warmly and gently strokes your cheekbone with his thumb while the other hand caresses your thigh. His touch ignites your delicate skin. It feels like your body completely melts, and the heat burns you into ashes.

You never nake in front of anybody before, so under the general's stare, the blush blooms over your cheeks again. When you raise your hands to cover your red face, Jing Yuan pulls them out. The Autumn hue in his irises is devoid as his gaze is intense and focused.

"Don't hide your cute face from me, darling."

The general leans over and kisses you enthusiastically again, his tongue exploring your mouth deeply while his hand moves up and grabs your breast firmly, squeezing it gently. You start feeling the arousal between your legs with his interlude.

"Ah~ it feels so good. I will hate myself when dawn breaks, but it does not matter now. Not anymore."

You continue to writhe under him with your chest heaving. The general's grip tightens around your breast, and he squeezes them roughly.

"Lord Jing Yuan"

Finally, you could not hold back your ecstasy and mewled out his name.

He also moans softly as he continues kissing you passionately. His free hand travels down your body to cup your crotch firmly, and you can tell his manhood presses against your thigh.

As the juice starts leaking out where he cups your sex, your fingertips dig into his broadened shoulders as an erotic euphoria washes over like a high tide. The last remnant of sanity leaves your brain eventually, and you whisper in the general's ear.

"Ah-please, I want you."

"How shameful... 2 months ago, I firmly stated that I did not need him, but now I am begging him.

Oh, why? Why does this world loathe me that much?"

The general chuckles softly and pecks your cheek while moving his hands along your waist and then up your shoulders. He pushes himself away from you and sits up, and a sly grin spreads across his face as he looks down at you with amusement and says in a low voice.

"What are you saying?"

"You bastard! He is taking advantage of my vulnerable state to hear my begging!" You grasp a pillow and throw it at his face, but the general evades it easily.

"I am saying that I hate you so much!"

Jing Yuan laughs loudly and seems unbothered at your emotional outburst. He hooks your legs around his torso and aligns your manhood with your entrance.

"Do you trust me?"

You pretty ascertain that your cheeks now redden as tomatoes. "That thing" is erected at the owner's body, and its sheer size is enough to scare you dead.

"Yes, but can you hold my hand?"

The general grins widely when he interwinds your hand tightly and whispers into your ear. The guilty paradise unfolds opposite his eyes. The heaven is tainted with helluva color.

"Of course, I won't hurt you."

He closes his eyes and leans forward, slowly beginning to trespass the forbidden dreamland, each inch stretching your walls wider than the one before. Once the entire length is inside, he stops and lets out a loud moan. You know he was gentle, but it's still painful. As if Lord Jing Yuan tore you in two parts, your eyes tear up uncontrollably.

"It hurts, it hurts."

The general sighs deeply and sweeps away your tears, then pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. His chest presses against yours resting his head on your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. A small smile appears on his lips as he murmurs to you.

"Shhh.. It'll be okay..."

You hesitantly nod in response, and Jing Yuan pulls out slightly, then thrusts deep inside you once more. After several minutes of being filled with his thick member, the pain subsides. He hugs you close to him, and a soft smile appears on his lips as he grabs your hips and begins moving slowly within you. His groans grow louder with every thrust until they become screams of pleasure.

You start feeling lightheaded and breathing heavier than. You hate to admit that the general is skilled at making love with you. It feels like you are on the ninth cloud right now, and do not bother to suppress pleasure.

You wrapped your legs around his waist tight and chanted his name incoherently like a mantra. In a clouded mind, you saw the general's smile turning dark and wolfish. Guess that you were playing with fire. The general looks at you with an evil grin and stares back at you with his own animalistic stare. His grip tightens around your waist as he starts moving faster. With each thrust, he pounds harder and deeper into you. Your breathing becomes erratic and heavy as you feel yourself nearing climax.

Since your bodies are well compatible, you cling to his shoulder to seek support and claw at Jing Yuan's back violently. Something unknown starts forming inside you as if your mind is going to explode.

"Lord...Lord Jing Yuan, I...am..."

A low chuckle escapes from his throat as he thrusts hard into you. The general wraps his arm around your waist tightly and holds you firmly while continuing to pound away at you. His other hand reaches down between your legs and strokes your clit gently.

"You devil!" - You internally curse him. However, the word falls back to your throat, and your voice is hoarse now. The general's face contorts into a sinister smirk as if he hears your thoughts. Lord Jing Yuan bites down hard on your shoulder blade and continues pounding into you. His fingers dig into your soft flesh as he reaches his peak. His hand moves from the waist to grab one of your hands to hold it tightly.

"Shhhh.. It will be alright, my dear. You're safe here..."

He says softly but clearly, his voice dripping with lust and desire. His eyes are full of passion and excitement. His hot breath tickles your ear as he whispers to you how much he wants you.

"I...can't hold any...longer. Please! I'm so close right now!"

Your tears streaming down tremendously as you cry.

He hears your plea and leans forward slightly. The general grips tighter onto your body and begins speeding up to fuck you even more vigorously. His cock throbs inside you as you both reach your peaks together.

"Lord...lord Jing Yuannn...I beg you!!"

You nearly scream with pleasure and despair when his thick member brushes your G-spot in every thrust. As soon as you start begging him, he feels himself reaching his limit as well. His hips buck wildly against yours, and he moans loudly as he releases his seed deep inside you. A warm sensation spreads through Jing Yuan's entire body as he shoots load after load deep inside your womb.

You try to catch your breath when the general fills you up and stops completely. The hot breeze fans over your face, red tint dust over his cheeks as he hovers above you, and you whine internally. "This is unfair!"

While you are trying to breathe in and out, Lord Jing Yuan is barely out of breath. After staying still awhile, he stands up to take a handkerchief to clean up the mixed liquid between your legs and lies beside you. The general pulls you into his arms and places your head on his fit chest, where you can hear his heart beating loud and clear. He gently strokes your bare back. You lazily wrap an arm around his waist, and hearing Lord Jing Yuan's heartbeat lulls you to sleep. He kisses your forehead sweetly and closes his eyes. His breathing slowly becomes steady and calm while he nuzzles you.

"Goodnight, my dear. Sleep well..."

#jing yuan x fem! reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr mut #hsr fanfic #Honkai Star Rail fanfic #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x reader

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

Text

Decadent: A Miguel O'Hara Story

next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

De-ca-dent* (de-kə-dənt) 1. characterized by or appealing to self-indulgence a rich and decadent dessert 2. marked by decay or decline an increasingly decadent society

Summary: You are new to the city, starting a job at a the research facility of your dreams. Speaking of dreams, your dreamy boss, Miguel O'Hara leaves an impression on you you'll not soon forget. But this brilliant scientist hides a dark secret - will his darkness drag you under? Or is love strong enough to overcome anything?

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: We're just kicking things off so -1k

Warnings/notables: AU story. 18+, please note the warnings for each part/section of this story. Some things are canon accurate and some are not. The secret Miguel hides requires him to do dark deeds to sustain his own life. Therefore there are non-con "vampiric" elements, but all sexual activities are consensual. Also cursing. Blood. References to sex but no sex in this chapter. References to killing. Let me know if I missed something. not beta'd we die like everyon'es uncle ben...

"Hi, Aunt Jess, I'm settled in my apartment. Movers just left," you spoke aloud, using your wireless headphones to make a call. Your Aunt had insisted you let her know you were all moved in, but failed to answer.

"It's small, like I told you, but I really wanted to start out on my own. Only child thing," you laughed. "Uhmm...I know you wanted me to have a roommate, to be safe, but...I promise I'll think about it more. Once I get to know some people here in the city."

Flopping down on your favorite green chair, you let out an exhausted sigh. "Anyway, you can text me back if you want. I'm taking a shower - if I can find my towels - and going to sleep. Early start tomorrow. Love you, bye."

Removing your headphones, you placed them carefully back in their charging case and turned on some relaxing music. It took you a few minutes, but you did find the box labeled 'towels' so you could freshen up. You had packed a bag with all your essentials - including some cozy pajamas for your first night in the city, and a smart suit for your first day as a research assistant tomorrow.

You were starting a new life in a new city. Orphaned when you were twelve-years-old, you were raised throughout your teenage years by your dad's much younger sister, Jessina. You were much closer in age - so much so that you occasionally fought like sisters, but she made good on her promise to take care of you, supporting you all the way through your master's degree.

Now you were in the city to finish up your doctorate, while working as an assistant to one of the most brilliant geneticists in the world - Miguel O'Hara.

You had only met him over a video call - he was inexplicably unavailable on your only in-person interview. He had a reputation for being tough, no-nonsense, devastatingly brilliant and dangerously handsome. You didn't know him yet, but the handsome part, you could attest to. Seeing him on your computer screen made your body temperature rise and your heart rate double.

Who knew what would happen in person?

But you were a professional, and Miguel's assistant was the perfect entry job for you. So you would have to ignore his gorgeous, thick waves and razor sharp jaw line. You were here to work.

Miguel sat perched on the edge of an abandoned building, head in his hands, fingers digging into his temples.

Everything hurt.

Conveniently, he didn't have to concentrate to keep his talons from piercing his own skin. So thankfully, talons were not the source of his pain. Still...it hurt.

With a huff, he jerked his hands away, banging a fist on the roof's edge...

...which promptly caused the aged brick to crumble beneath his super strength.

"Shit," he mumbled, pushing himself up. Sighing loudly, he decided he better call it a night. Even with above-average stamina, he still wanted to be ready to meet his new assistant tomorrow at the lab.

It was just so hard to concentrate when he felt so weak.

"I can't," he uttered, annoyed with himself for thinking of blood when he needed to be thinking about tomorrow - about you.

But it had been so long. Too long since he fed - since he felt the rush of his fangs sinking into a warm, fleshy neck. Since he had sucked the life out of someone despicable. Or fed slowly as he'd fucked a lover. The blood wasn't only a life-sustainer, after all. It was an aphrodisiac. He had the Evarcha culicivora - the vampire spider to thank for his blood appetite.

But something had gone wrong when Miguel was unknowingly afflicted with spider DNA years ago. The vampire spider's appetite for blood - specifically blood-filled females - plagued him. He could and did still eat regular food, but he found himself signficiantly weakened if he didn't feed on occasion.

He couldn't deny how incredible it felt - the warmth on his tongue - the pliant body in his arms. He told himself he kept to the moral high ground, killing on the most deplorable criminals. And even though his fangs emitted a non-toxic venom, which could paralyze, he told himself that each and every pleasurable feeding was consensual.

He was half right. The sex was definitely consensual because Miguel was a brilliant, beautiful and seductive man. The feedings, though? Not always. How could he exactly explain to someone that he was a creature who needed to feed on blood to live?

'Hi, I'm Miguel. I'm really smart and I will make you see God in bed, but, by the way, I want to drink you. But I'm not a vampire, I swear!'

Ludicrous.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook those thoughts from his head. It was next-level annoying to have super powers at his disposal but still feel like shit half the time.

Blood was the key.

But in sustaining his body, he felt he was losing his soul.

Coming up: you meet Miguel. What will your new boss be like? Will he have fed before he sees you? next->

*as defined by Merriam-Webster

#miguel o'hara #decadent fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x afab reader #marvel fanfic #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #sm: atsv #sm: atsv fic #au spiderverse #au fic #tw blood

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captainremmington-13 · 2 months

Text

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova, her father, and Enolio. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Coriolanus spends the night at the Reginelle estate. While Bellova sleeps, he goes through her room and discovers many intriguing items, some of which he would have never expected to find.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: THIS IS A DARK CHAPTER. It contains manipulation, swearing, and mentions of death and weaponry.

A/n: This chapter was so hard to write tbh😭

Bellova awoke on Sunday, two days after she’d fallen unconscious. Coriolanus was at her bedside, reading a book. When he noticed she was awake, he immediately called for the nurse and brushed her hair out of her face gently.

After the nurse checked her vitals and confirmed that she was alright, he went to summon the doctor so she could be cleared to go home.

“I feel so guilty,” Bellova whispered, looking down at her lap sadly.

“Why is that?” Coriolanus asked, checking the time on his watch. It was already six o’clock in the evening, and he wanted to get home in time for dinner with Tigris and Grandma’am.

“My father has probably been worried sick about me,” she said dejectedly. “Do you know where he is right now? I would really like to see him.”

Coriolanus took a deep breath.

“Oh, sweet girl…I hate that I have to break this to you.”

“Huh?” Bellova tilted her head in confusion.

“Your father is dead.”

Coriolanus did not get home in time for dinner.

Instead, he had to escort a distraught Bellova to the car waiting in front of the hospital to take her back to her estate. Between sobs, she begged for Coriolanus to come home with her.

“Please don’t leave me alone,” she said tearfully, clutching his arm like it was a lifeline. “I don’t trust that I won’t hurt myself. I need you by my side, Coryo.”

And Coriolanus, being the loving boyfriend he was, agreed instantly.

He opened the door to the back seat for Bellova before her driver could, and slid in next to her immediately after. He buckled her seatbelt for her, as she was too distracted to do it herself.

The driver started the car without saying a word. Coriolanus could tell by his stiff posture that he was on edge, but was holding his tongue.

The ride was…tense, to say the least. Bellova was trembling, clearly trying not to cry her heart out. Tears streamed down her face, dripping down onto her blood-red dress, the same one that Bellova had worn to his office just two days ago.

‘So much has happened since then,’ Coriolanus thought.

When the car stopped in the Reginelle estate’s driveway, Bellova didn’t move to get out. She just sat there, as if she was paralyzed by grief, which she probably was.

Coriolanus had to say her name twice before she turned her head slightly to look at him. He unbuckled her seatbelt and took her hand, helping her out of the car.

They wordlessly made their way inside the estate. Two Avoxes came to take their coats. The same butler that showed Coriolanus to Mr. Reginelle’s office just days ago, approached them. His eyes widened slightly when he recognized him, but did not express his surprise out loud.

“Miss Reginelle,” the butler said, his voice cracking slightly. It was clear to Coriolanus that he had been immensely stressed. “I am glad to see you awake and well. I…” he paused, looking down at his shoes. “I am so sorry about your father.”

“Thank you, Enolio,” Bellova said quietly. “I know you were fond of him too.”

Coriolanus briefly wondered how much she accurately remembered about her father.

“He was a good man,” Enolio said. “Generous, fair, and passionate. And he loved you so much, more than anything else in this world.”

Bellova’s eyes filled with tears again, which she wiped away quickly. “I know,” she said, sniffling. “He was the best father I could ever ask for.”

Coriolanus, who was growing increasingly impatient and anxious at the discussion of a man he had killed, cleared his throat. “Show us to her quarters,” he told Enolio. “She requested that I stay the night with her.”

Enolio looked like he wanted to protest, but didn’t.

He turned on his heel and lead them up the grand staircase, which was made of black marble and shone in the light of the grandiose chandelier hanging above. Bellova was still shaking, and Coriolanus could tell she was struggling to walk in her heels.

He would have carried her the rest of the way if he’d actually given a damn about her.

Finally, Enolio pushed Bellova’s bedroom doors open. “If you need anything, Miss Reginelle, just yell for me. I’ll be close by.”

Bellova nodded, giving him a hug. “Thank you.”

The butler looked stunned at this sudden affectionate gesture, but embraced her anyway. “You’re most welcome, miss.” Giving her a small smile, he shut the door behind him, leaving her and Coriolanus alone in her incredibly spacious room.

Coriolanus looked around, taking in his surroundings. He had never been in this section of the estate before, let alone Bellova’s quarters.

The aesthetic of the decor fit her perfectly - or at least, the old her, perfectly. The canopy draped over her bed was made of a sheer black material, and matched the black silk covers on her mattress. One of the walls was transformed into a massive set of bookshelves, which was filled with books and other priceless trinkets. A mirror almost twice the height of the doors was placed on the wall opposite to that, the rim inlaid with silver. The floor was made of dark grey marble, and was polished to perfection.

Coriolanus’s gaze traveled back to Bellova when she said his name softly. She had begun to cry again, which annoyed him. He really hated watching people cry, it made him uncomfortable. He was tempted to ignore her, they were alone and there would be consequences for doing so. But he needed to be affectionate enough to gain her unwavering support and devotion.

So instead of leaving the room, Coriolanus stayed with Bellova while she prepared for bed. She stopped crying, to his relief, and instead went completely silent. She retrieved a white nightgown from her walk-in closet and disappeared into her bathroom.

When Bellova returned, her face had been scrubbed clean of makeup. Coriolanus hadn’t seen her without a full face of makeup in at least five years. Her complexion was paler than usual, her grey eyes were puffy and red from crying, and her hair was damp and devoid of its usual curl.

She looked ghostly, which made sense given that the old version of her was dead.

She walked over to her bed without saying a word, laying down on top of the sheets. She still seemed to be in a trance-like state.

Coriolanus reluctantly walked over to her and kneeled down next to the bed. “You should get under the covers, you’ll get cold if you don’t.”

No response.

He sighed. Standing up, he slowly coaxed Bellova off of the bed so he could pull back the covers. She layed down once more, facing away from him.

Coriolanus thought Bellova would fall asleep right away, but was proven wrong when she rolled over to look at him. “Can you hold me while I try to sleep, Coryo?”

He was beginning to regret brainwashing her instead of killing her.

Pushing aside his violent thoughts, he slid off his shoes and climbed into bed with her. She immediately wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. He hesitantly raised his hand to stroke her hair, and he felt her body relax slightly.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

“Mhm,” she murmured, her eyelids drooping slightly. “Thank you for staying with me, Coryo. I don’t know what I’d do without you, especially now that my father is gone…” She trailed off, her voice trembling pitifully. “All I really have is you.”

Coriolanus allowed himself to smile. If Bellova felt he was her only ally, he would never have to worry about her disobeying or abandoning him.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I’m all you need. As long as you have me, you’ll be alright.”

She hummed in agreement, her eyes fluttering shut. And within minutes, she was asleep.

Carefully, Coriolanus lifted her sleeping form off of his chest, letting her body rest against the mattress. He climbed off of the bed, and ran a hand through his already messy hair. What was there to do now that Bellova was sleeping?

He looked around the room once more, his eventually eyes landing on her desk. It was the messiest thing in the room by far. It held miscellaneous books of all sizes, expensive-looking notebooks, various fountain pens, and loose papers in clumsily composed stacks.

Despite knowing her for more than a decade, she kept a solid wall between them that prevented him from seeing her true feelings. Perhaps looking through her personal items would reveal things that he could use to his advantage.

Taking a seat at her desk, he picked up the book at the top of the pile. It was called A Tale of Timeless Truth. It looked like a dark romance novel, judging by the cover that depicted two lovers standing in a cemetery. The one underneath read:

Coriolanus

by William Shakespeare

Coriolanus stifled a laugh, as not to wake the sleeping girl. Either it was a miraculous coincidence, or the old Bellova liked him more than she let on. He was tempted to look through the book, but was more interested in the several sheets of notes lying about.

After shuffling through them, he realized that Bellova had been quite passionate about the concept of the Hunger Games. She had written the outlines of concepts of rules, spanning from having a different arena each year to making the tribute interviews a bigger, more publicized event.

She also had rough sketches of strange animals, with hastily scribbled notes bellow them.

Mutations.

She was designing her own mutts.

Dr. Gaul had likely inspired her to do so. Judging by the lack of development and detail within the notes, she hadn’t presented the designs to the doctor yet.

They were solid ideas, ones that Dr. Gaul would be very impressed with. Coriolanus carefully folded the papers containing the rules and designs into small squares and tucked them into his pant pocket.

The other papers were filled with drawings, mostly of skulls and various flowers. The only one that stood out to him was a sketch of a rose. It was a beautiful picture, but quite macabre, as the petals appeared to be dropping in blood.

He decided he had to destroy that paper. He didn’t want Bellova to remember she had been fascinated by anything violent.

Coriolanus opened the drawers on the left of the desk, rifling through them as quietly as possible. There was nothing of interest in them, just a bunch of school supplies. When he opened the last drawer on the right, he spotted two black leather-bound books, decorated with elaborate patterns and inlaid with gold. One of them looked considerably older than the other.

He picked both of them up, setting them on the desk. He blew the thin layer of dust off of the older book, and opened it. In large but surprisingly neat handwriting, the words “Bellova’s journal” covered the first page. In the bottom right corner was the date she first wrote in it. Coriolanus quickly did the math. She was seven years old at that time.

He flipped the page, which revealed the first entry:

I’m not going to begin this with “dear diary”. That’s stupid. I’ll just write out my thoughts as they appear in my head.

Coriolanus bit back a smile. She had always been blunt, apparently.

I met a boy today. He tried to kick me off of my own tower at the playground. The audacity! He wasn’t willing even to share, so I pushed him. Daddy always says I shouldn’t be mean, but that it’s fine to put people in their place. And that’s what I did, so I don’t see it as a problem.

I think he is in my class at school. I recognize him by his blonde curls. I never payed attention to him before today, he never really caught my eye. But now I need to watch my back. I don’t want him getting in my way again.

Signed,

ℬℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ𝓋𝒶

Coriolanus’s throat went dry. He knew he was the little blonde boy who she’d pushed down the stairs those years ago.

He turned to a random page. This one was written two years after the first entry.

I really hate group projects. I had to work with Clemmie and Coryo. What a nightmare.

Clemmie is alright. We get along for the most part, and sometimes we do each other’s hair. She can be bossy sometimes, which really gets on my nerves. I want to slap her sometimes, but Miss Inola would get really mad at me if I did.

Coryo is the one who gives me trouble. He thinks he’s so special because his last name is Snow.

But he has such pretty blue eyes. They sparkle like the finest diamonds in the light. His smile looks like sunshine itself, and his laugh is so cute.

It’s really a shame that he’s so annoying.

Signed,

ℬℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ𝓋𝒶 ℛ.

At that point, Coriolanus was beyond intrigued. He had no idea Bellova found him attractive when they were children. She hurled insults at him constantly, and was hell-bent on one-upping him in class. Clearly, she was good at hiding her emotions.

At least, she used to be.

Quickly flipping through the pages, he stopped when an entry written in red ink caught his eye. This was written when Bellova was fourteen.

Today was an absolute mess, but it was fun to see the chaos unfold.

Arachne really thought she’d win the Dean’s Award for her perfect score on her algebra test. As fun as she is to gossip with, she can be quite an entitled bitch. She threw a tantrum in front of the entire student body. I just pretended not to know her.

Then Sejanus, the soft-hearted fool he is, stormed out of History. I think it was prompted by Demigloss calling district children “rats”. He’s such a sensitive boy, so I can understand why it got under his skin. But really, he should try to blend in more with the Capitol citizens if he wants to rid himself of the stigma surrounding his family’s past.

And lastly, Coriolanus won the Dean’s Award for academic achievement. The look on High-As-A-Kite Bottom’s face when he had off his name was priceless. I was sure I would win the award, but if anyone else truly deserves it, it’s Coryo. I hate to admit it, but his intellect far surpasses anyone else’s in the our grade. Except for mine, of course.

Coryo changed over the summer. In personality, he’s the same. He’s still competitive, smug, and somewhat reserved. But he looks different. He’s gotten taller, his voice is more mature, and he looks less…boyish. Dad says that he looks more like his father, General Snow. I’m unsure if that’s good or bad.

I really do hate that he’s taller than me now. I suppose I’ll have to get used to wearing heels every day. When he pointed out how he can look right over my head now, giving me that signature smug grin, I wanted to throw up.

It’s almost sickening how much I want to kiss him.

ℬ. ℛ.

Coriolanus was unable to stop himself from grinning.

Bellova really had been a lovesick schoolgirl all this time.

He closed the old journal and opened the new one. Bellova had recorded the date she received it: her sixteenth birthday.

He shuddered. He really didn’t want to remember her sixteenth birthday party.

Skimming through the book quickly, he realized she’d only written in it a handful of times. She probably got busy with the advanced classes she was taking at the Academy. He inferred this because he had been taking all of the same classes, and knew how heavy the workload could be.

The very last entry in the book was a short one.

I want nothing more than to slit Coriolanus Snow’s neck, and watch the blood paint his pretty porcelain skin red.

The fucking audacity of him to insult me in front of our entire class! I would’ve stabbed him with my pen if Sejanus hadn’t intervened. He’s just envious that I got a higher grade than him on our last rhetoric project. He’s fucking pathetic.

I don’t care for him anymore. His has his arrogant ass to blame for that. It’s his loss.

No matter how gorgeous or alluring he is, I will never allow myself to feel anything for him ever again.

I deserve better.

Signed,

𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓪 𝓥𝓸𝓵𝓾𝓶𝓷𝓲𝓪 𝓡𝓮𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓮

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coriolanus spent hours ripping pages out of both journals. He removed anything that depicted her old personality, but left the entries that didn’t contradict Bellova’s new reality alone.

If anyone who didn’t know her read through the journals, they’d assume she was an average Capitol heiress.

He also went through her room and removed anything that could be used as a weapon, just in case Bellova returned to her former state.

He had no idea that Bellova owned so many knives. By the time he had thoroughly searched every crevice of the bedroom, his coat pockets were stuffed full of various small weapons.

He left her bookshelves alone for the most part. The only books he decided to take home with him were ones that included graphic content. He wanted Bellova to think she’d been innocent and pure.

He found a singular photo book hidden amongst lengthy tragedy novels. Inside was many photos of Bellova and her loved ones. Some were of her as an infant, others as a toddler. There were only a few of her around the age where she had formally met Coriolanus. This was unsurprising, given that the war was at its fiercest around that time.

Later on in the book were many pictures of her and Persephone, Lysistrata, and Diana Ring, taken during their fourth-to-last year of the academy. Bellova looked much older than fourteen in them. Perhaps it was the makeup, or the cunning gleam in her eyes.

The last two pages were filled with more recent pictures. One of them was a group photo of the senior class, taken at their very last Academy orientation. Coriolanus spotted himself and Sejanus standing next to each other, grinning ear to ear.

Quickly suppressing his guilt, he searched for Bellova in the picture, who he found quickly. Nobody else in the senior class had jet black hair and a piercingly sharp smile.

The photo that really grabbed his attention was the very last one, because he was in it.

Bellova wore a stunning silver dress, her makeup was more elaborate than usual, and her eyes were half-closed. Five empty glasses of posca sat on the table before her. To her left, Coriolanus had rested his head on her shoulder, and appeared to be asleep.

A vague memory flashed across his mind. A night full of laughter, posca, and luxurious outfits. Bellova giving him a captivating smile. Feeling the alcohol bring down his barriers, momentarily forgetting all of his worries…

Coriolanus shook his head, as if doing so would push the thoughts out of his mind. He removed the photo from the album and placed it so it leaned against the books on the shelf. He hoped that Bellova would see it and assume it was a snapshot of their “loving” relationship before she had “hit her head”.

He scanned the room once more, to ensure nothing incriminating was left. The aura of the old Bellova still remained, due to the gothic decor, but anything that suggested she was a violent person had been taken by him.

Satisfied, Coriolanus walked back towards Bellova’s bed. But he stopped in his tracks when he spotted a small table near one of her windows.

On it sat a framed, pressed black rose.

The very same blossom he had gifted her after the arena bombing.

He would have been stunned that she preserved it if not for what he’d just read in her journals.

Coriolanus picked up the frame. The flower was a perfect representation of the old Bellova: mysterious, macabre, and beautiful.

Opening the back of the frame, Coriolanus retrieved the dried flower. Silently apologizing to Grandma’am, he crushed it in his palm, practically reducing it to dust.

Discarding the remains in a trash bin, Coriolanus walked towards the bedroom door. He needed to go back to his penthouse, Tigris and Grandma’am were probably quite worried about him. Besides, he needed to dispose of the knives and find a place to hide Bellova’s other items.

He also had some work to do concerning the frame that had housed the black rose.

When he returned in the early hours of the following morning, it would contain a freshly-pressed white blossom.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! Things will get pretty intense in the next few chapters, because Bellova isn’t one to go down without fighting first…..

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x oc #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #original character #thg prequel #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the capitol #tbosas

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starrose17 · 4 months

Text

Asunder - A completed Lokius AU explicit fanfic - 109,106 words.

Here on A03.

SUMMARY:

The violent God and the gentle Man, two sides of Loki’s split personality that has him locked in a criminal mental institution. His doctor, Mobius, has him under his care, but there are things Loki doesn’t remember, about his crime, about his past…about who Mobius really is. All Loki knows is that he is afraid of what the God will do next, and that the easy smile of his doctor makes something stir warmly inside him.

THEMES and TAGS:

Top!Mobius/Bottom!Loki.

Happy ending.

Love & romance, Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Angst.

Past child abuse, Mental disorder.

But mostly, it is romantic and painful you will feel all the emotions, many reviewers said they cried frequently. See this review here (click on it to enlarge):

NOTES:

This fic deals with Dissociative Identity Disorder i.e. Split personality. You don't have to know anything about it to read, but for anyone who does have this disorder, my beta reader also has it, so has told me exactly what it feels like to have various personalities and all the medical terminology, so thanks to him the story should be pretty accurate to someone dealing with this in real life. He read every chapter before I posted it and I changed anything that didn't fit right with him. Even so, this is a fic not a published novel and some creative liberties have been taken.

Also this is set in modern times but please note that modern medical information about D.I.D. in this fic is set out as limited, kind of mid 1980’s knowledge.

#lokius #loki series #tva loki #mobius m mobius #loki #starrose fanfic

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revnah1406 · 6 months

Text

Operation Kingslayer: 3/?

OCs:

Hannah "Sparrow" Clayton - @revnah1406

Alyssa "Aly" Martinez - @alypink

Mandy Macfie - @alidravana

Charlotte "Jade" le Jardin - @sleepyconfusedpotato

Captain Arjun Dhingra - @welldonekhushi

Annabelle "Gremlin" Pham - @applbottmjeens

Damien Whitlock - @kaitaiga

Captain Lachlan Jones - @kaitaiga

(so many OCs! 👀 I would thank specially to all my mutuals and people who participate in this fic to help me with the writing and their ocs! thank you so much guys. I love you so much <3)

Spotify playlist!

Warning!: This chapter contains specific violence, and a detailed description of torture methods. Non-accurate medical procedures.

(All locations and places that appear in this Fic are fictitious and based on the Ghost Recon Wildlands video game)

NOTE!: The events of Op Kingslayer take place before MW3, so there are no Spoilers. This chapter was written before the Call of Duty MW3 campaign was released. Despite the little relevance it has, you may find differences between the fic and the campaign.

<- previous chapter

The bullets flew like an intense rain of fire. The team could barely hold the position. Arjun was shot in the leg and little by little his vision began to blur due to blood loss.

"Mandy! Where the fuck are you?! We need an emergency evac now!" Aly exclaimed over the comms.

"I'm trying to! But I'm taking heavy fire! I can't get close!" Mandy responded over the radio, from her tone of voice she seemed to have problems too.

"Shit. We have to get away from here as soon as possible"

How had they ended up in a situation like this? Well the story is a bit long, but long story short, the team finally found El Yayo. He seemed to be a reasonable man and someone who could be negotiated with. After all, he was just an old coca grower trying to survive under the feet of an empire. Rodolfo Yana didn’t like the idea that his grandson Gonzalo was on his way to a federal prison in the United States. But in the end he came to his senses knowing that it was the safest place for him, away from El Sueño. He also didn’t overlook the fact that his grandson had been tortured. Jade did a great fucking job, despite the torture, Gonzalo Yana was still alive and even though he was missing some nails there would be no permanent physical damage.

Bowman managed to negotiate with El Yayo, assuring him immunity and protection from the CIA, if he collaborated with them, of course. And this is how they managed to end the first pillar: Production. Now it's the next one's turn: Influence.

El Yayo didn’t seem to have great friendships with the rest of the leaders of the Santa Blanca Cartel. But he managed to give information about the head of the pillar of Influence.

His name was Gustavo Serrano, better known as El Cardenal (The Cardinal) . He was the preacher of the Santa Blanca Cartel, the greatest devotee of La Santa Muerte. He was also one of El Sueño's closest advisors. Gustavo Serrano was in charge of the propaganda and philanthropy strategy of El Sueño, and he is the one who gives the sermons on the radio and in the churches of Santa Blanca. As responsible for its public image, he encouraged El Sueño to participate in charitable events and develop educational and humanitarian activities for NGOs.

And if they managed to catch El Cardenall and make him talk. Maybe they got a direct pass to El Sueño. The interesting thing about El Cardenall is that deep down he was a good guy. He tried to do charity work to help Bolivians, build schools and churches, but neither the church nor the politicians were going to help him. He was aware of the damage caused by the cartel, but he believed that all the good he could do would outweigh the bad...

In summary, El Cardenal wasn’t really a cocaine drug trafficker, just someone who wanted to spread the word of God and La Santa Muerte. And in a way, maybe the team underestimated him a little bit.

How did they find it? Well, that was a masterpiece on Aly's part. Thanks to the information Sparrow got from that cocaine lab. Aly found a large network of trafficking in people and especially children, which extended throughout South America. Aly made this information public on social networks, using fake profiles. Staining the history of the Santa Blanca cartel.

All this scandal forced El Cardenal to come out of hiding and hold a mass in the Church of Santa Blanca in the Malca region. To explain to the people that child trafficking was pure lies and false rumors.

The team thought they had El Cardenal by the balls. That they could capture that bastard before he said mass but everything went wrong too quickly. In the blink of an eye the church and the entire city of Malca had been filled with Narcos armed to the teeth ready to shoot down anyone who looked suspicious. El Cardenl was nowhere to be found and their chances of making it out alive were significantly reduced.

"Shit Aly! Keep your head down!" Sparrow forced Aly to lower her head. Before a burst of gunfire could hit her. Alyssa was too busy looking for possible escape routes and getting to the extraction point without being gunned down.

Sparrow didn’t hesitate to counterattack by shooting in that direction. The entire team was behind a barricade of ruins and debris caused by the explosions and grenades. Jade and Sparrow held the position, shooting any mercenary or narco who got too close or dared to stick their head out for more than two seconds.

Arjun gave orders while putting pressure on the leg. The captain grunted as he tried to get up but fell back to the ground. His leg didn't respond.

"Sir, you should stop moving. You will bleed to death if you continue like this!" Sparrow looked away for a moment to look at his captain.

"Keep your eyes on the firefight, Sergeant." Arjun ordered groaning. He was in a terrible mood at that moment. He had his reasons, he was about to captureEl Cardenal, he was a few meters away, everything seemed to be going perfectly, until a sniper bullet pierced his leg. And that's when the chaos began.

Aly hurriedly approached Arjun to try to make a tourniquet around Arjun's leg.

"Shit! They're surrounding us!" Jade exclaimed when she saw more armed vehicles appearing behind them. "Fuck!"

"Jade! Take care of those vehicles. Sparrow hold position!" Arjun ordered grabbing a grenade from his vest and throwing it right under one of the cars.

"Shit..." Hannah turned away for a moment. All that was chaos. It was practically impossible for them to come out alive. At least all of them.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his pupils dilated taking in everything that was happening. Jade shooting at any enemy that moved, sweat sticking her red locks to her forehead. It was clear that she was exhausted. They had been like this for hours, and since they arrived in Bolivia they didn’t have a single day of rest. Aly seemed to be on the edge. On the verge of collapsing, no matter how much she searched on her mobile device and maps for escape routes, she couldn't find anything. She tried to contact Mandy but there was no response. And if that was enough, she also had to help Arjun with that injury. Damn, Arjun. He was bleeding to death. The blood coming from his leg was beginning to create a worryingly large puddle.

Hannah had to do something. If She didn't do anything…they would all die.

"Fuck..." Sparrow closed her eyes trying to think.

"Hey sergeant." Arjun called her after a few minutes of silence. "Can I ask you something?"

Sparrow opened her eyes. She realized that she was sitting on the edge of a cliff near the safe house. It was night, the full moon was shining in all its splendor high in the sky. Everything was silent except for the crickets and insects around. Sparrow looked down at the abyss that the cliff provided, a drop of several dozen meters, full of rocks, stones and dirt.

They had returned from detonating a cocaine warehouse and now they had to rest, at least a couple of hours. But Sparrow couldn't sleep and decided to go out for some air. Apparently the captain soon noticed her absence and went in search of her. When he found her, they were both sitting there, looking at the moon and having deep conversations, about their dreams, ideals or simply things from the past.

"What is it about sir?" Sparrow asked, confused.

Arjun looked at his sergeant for a few seconds.

"What do you think is the hardest decision you've ever made?" He asked with his eyes fixed on the landscape.

Sparrow thought for a bit and then smiled sadly.

"Cut the rope."

Arjun looked at her without understanding what she was talking about.

"Cut the rope?"

Sparrow nodded. "It's the hardest decision for any climber." She sighed as she swung her boots that were hanging from the cliff. "When you have to climb, it’s better to do it with someone. If something happens to you, your partner can help you and save your life. Normally when climbing, both have to be connected with a rope. If one of them slips and falls, the other will be able to hold it. But…” She paused and looked at the moon. "Imagine that when your partner falls, he hits his head on the ice or rock and is unconscious and very badly injured. His body is hanging from the rope that you are holding and you aren’t able to lift him up. If your partner were conscious and in good shape you could both do it. But being alone? No, impossible. Then you stay there, with your half-dead partner hanging from a rope that you are holding. You won't be able to hold it forever, you will end up getting tired and you will both die, both of you falling. into the void or dead from the cold. So the decision is... Will you cut the rope? Would you cut it to save yourself? You know that if you don't cut it you will both die. But if you cut it you will kill your partner."

Arjun thought for a few moments and nodded. He seemed to understand the situation. Being alone up there, with your friend's life and yours in your hands.

"Did you cut the rope?" Arjun asked.

Hannah pursed her lips and looked at her boots. She unconsciously stroked the scars on her face.

"On K2... Before the avalanche hit me and my brother. I cut the rope. If the avalanche was going to hit me, I didn't want my brother to be swept away too. I didn't think about it much. I cut the rope to sacrifice myself and save my brother. Let's say that... I was the injured companion and my brother was the one holding the rope. And I made the decision for him. I accepted my fate and decided to die alone on that mountain."

"I understand."

There was another long silence.

"Sir," Sparrow looked at her captain this time decisively, "if it’s necessary. For the good of the entire team. Don’t hesitate, and cut the rope."

Arjun didn't know what to answer. He was very capable of giving his life for the team, but… sacrificing one member of the team to save the rest? He didn't know if he was capable of giving an order like that.

Sparrow opened her eyes decisively. She knew what she had to do. She took out her sniper rifle and handed it to Aly, who was clearly very confused.

"Hannah what...?"

"Jade, I need you to do me a favor!"

Just then, the redhead took cover behind the wall while reloading.

"What is it about?!" She asked, shooting again.

"I have to get to that armored truck!" she pointed to a vehicle that had a turret attached to the roof of the truck. "I need you to cover my back. I'll use the turret to divert their attention!"

"Hannah…what are you talking about?!" Jade asked worriedly. What was she up to? Whatever it was, it was suicide.

"Aly. Have you found an escape route?"

Aly checked the maps once again "huh… yes, from the south-east we can reach the forest and lose them off among the trees." She said pointing to a road on the map, not sure if that was the most appropriate route, but there was no time to confirm it.

Arjun sat up leaning his back against the wall.

"Sergeant. What are you up to…?" Arjun didn't like what Sparrow was trying to do.

"I'm going to cause a distraction. I'll use the turret to take out most of the enemies and–"

"No." Arjun interrupted her. He had a dead serious expression. "And leave you behind? Have you gone crazy?!"

"Sir, it's the only way for you to get out of here alive."

"There has to be another one. Hannah, we can't leave you here alone. They'll kill you!" Aly grabbed Sparrow's shoulder as she shook her head repeatedly.

It broke Hannah's heart to see her friend like this. But that wasn't going to make her back down, she was willing to do whatever was necessary to move them forward.

"I can't let you die here Aly…" Sparrow put his hand on Alyssa's.

"Sparrow."

Arjun grabbed Sparrow by one of the straps of her vest and pulled it until Sparrow looked him in the eyes.

"Listen to me soldier, open those fucking ears because I'm not going to repeat it again." The tone of voice Arjun used and his piercing eyes were able to make Sparrow break out in a sweat. Oh, the captain was pissed. "Follow my fucking orders. Hold your position and don't even think about doing anything crazy of yours." Arjun couldn't believe that Sparrow would take such a drastic decision. "Can't you trust your fucking team?! Are you that selfish?!"

"Fuck the orders!" Sparrow couldn't bear to watch his captain bleeding out on that floor for another minute.

Sparrow swallowed and grabbed Arjun's wrist, which was holding her tightly by her vest. She showed determination and hid the nervousness caused by her angry superior. "It's not about selfishness or distrust. I trust this team can get out of here alive without me, I trust you can kill that bald son of a bitch."

She tightened her grip making Arjun divert his attention to Hannah's hand.

"Captain…"

Arjun looked his sergeant in the eyes again.

"You have to cut the rope."

Arjun gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, the mere thought of leaving Sparrow behind made his chest ache. "No. I'm not going to do that."

"You have to do it. We have to sacrifice something to save something even greater."

"Hannah..." Jade interjected. She had a worried and serious expression. What her friend was saying was completely crazy. Jade shook her head.

Sparrow rested his hand on the former MI6 agent's shoulder, "I need you to cover my back so I can reach that vehicle."

Jade frowned and shook her head determinedly, "I'm not going to send you to the gates of hell, Han."

"You have to do it. I'm not going to die, not today. I won't give those sons of bitches that pleasure. I'll just be a little late."

Jade sighed and looked away. She knew Sparrow was a tough nut to crack.

"Don't even think about dying halfway, Sparrow."

"With you covering my back? I doubt it."

Both women shook hands, like two Spartans ready for war. Jade nodded determinedly.

Aly took out a small locator from one of her vest pockets and placed it inside Sparrow's vest. She hit Hannah's chest with her fist and took a deep breath.

"I'm going to find you."

"I know you will, you always do."

Sparrow looked at her captain determinedly.

"I await orders sir."

Arjun looked at his team. Even though he didn't say it out loud, he was proud of that team. He looked at Sparrow, she had that determined look, ready for anything. Arjun understood, he had to cut the rope. But he no longer feared for his sergeant.

"If you die I'm going to go down to hell and drag you here. And I won't be merciful."

Sparrow chuckled and patted Arjun's shoulder.

"You'll have to get out of here alive first, sir."

"Do you think I'm that weak, Sergeant?"

Sparrow laughed and shook her head.

"Negative, sir."

Arjun sighed and nodded.

"Jade, get ready. Aly, help me up. Sparrow, on my signal."

Jade and Sparrow nodded. Aly helped Arjun up while he grabbed his rifle.

Everyone was in position. Ready and waiting for the captain's signal. Arjun threw a flashbang grenade and waited for it to detonate.

"NOW!"

Sparrow jumped over the barricade with agility, Jade hurried to take cover and shoot any enemy that had not been affected by the flashbang.

Hannah ran with all her might, shooting anyone who got in her way. Jade's bullets flew near her, but never hit her. The narcos fell on Sparrow's feet.

The sergeant reached the armored vehicle, jumped on the hood and then onto the roof of the truck. She stood behind the turret.

"In position! Come on, get out of here!"

Sparrow used the turret against the enemies. Shooting at anyone in sight, no one was able to get close to where the team was.

"Let's go!" Jade exclaimed, giving the signal to Aly to help Arjun get up and run away from there.

The plan worked. The Narcos turned their attention to Sparrow. She devastated anyone who got in her way.

The team managed to flee and move away to a safe distance, eventually entering the forest. Between Jade and Aly they managed to carry Arjun.

"I have your visual!" Mandy's voice sounded over the communicator while the noise of a helicopter was heard nearby.

"Macfie! Are you okay?! What's your status?" Aly responded worriedly.

"The helicopter has received some damage but will hold up for extraction. Sparrow may have to take a look at the engine."

A silence fell on the team. Jade and Aly looked at each other, Arjun simply closed his eyes in frustration and tried to bear the pain in his leg.

"There is a clearing about a kilometer to the east of our position." Arjun spoke over the communications, "Wait for us there."

"Roger."

Jade suddenly stopped, causing the rest of the team to do so as well. She looked back, her eyes lost as the wind swayed her red locks.

"What happened?" Aly asked.

"There aren’t more gunshots..."

____________

"Shit." Arjun exclaimed through gritted teeth as Mandy finished removing the bullet from his leg.

"You've been very lucky, sir. You're going to limp for a few days but it won't be a big problem. I'll bring the painkillers from the medicine cabinet." Mandy reported after stitching up the wound.

"It's not the first time I've been shot. I'll be fine." Arjun sat on the side of the helicopter.

The team was trying to recover in the clearing where they had agreed to meet. The helicopter had suffered serious damage but appeared to still be able to fly. Mandy knew how to pilot gracefully through all that hell.

Jade had gone out to explore the surroundings, to make sure they hadn't been followed. While Aly tried to use the computer to locate Sparrow.

"Mierda. There's no signal..." Aly cursed after trying several times. "We need to move places. I can't find Sparrow here."

"She'll be fine. She can handle herself well." Mandy commented.

Arjun was still deep in thought, debating whether they could have found a better solution.

"You guys made quite a mess back there huh?" An unknown voice appeared.

Without thinking twice the team raised their weapons in the direction of that voice.

The unknown man raised his hands.

"If I were you I wouldn't pull the trigger."

Suddenly a bunch of Bolivian guerrillas came out of the bushes. Surrounding the helicopter, aiming their rifles at them.

"If you know how to count... you will know that you are at a clear disadvantage." The man lowered his hands.

Aly frowned.

"Eres Pac Katari ¿verdad?" (You're Pac Katari, right?)

Aly recognized the man Laswell mentioned at the bar and then Bowman at the first briefing. Aly had found little information about him. He knew how to hide his tracks very well.

"Veo que has hecho tu trabajo, chica.." (I see you've done your job, kid) The man began to walk towards them. "Then you'll know we're on the same side."

Suddenly all the guerrillas turned around, upset, looking towards the tree line. Pointing in all directions, shouting orders but not really knowing where to aim.

A red dot appeared on Pac Katari's back. There was a sniper, somewhere hidden in the trees, aiming for the heart of the leader of the rebel forces.

"I decide if we are on the same side." Arjun spoke seriously.

Pac Katari turned to see the red dot that was now pointed at his chest. He laughed lightly.

"If your sniper shoots, my men will kill you all"

"If my sniper shoots. We'll cut off the head of a snake." Arjun corrected him with a stone attitude. He wasn’t going to let himself be trampled on by an amateur guerrilla fighter.

"That snake can be a very good ally if you let it live"

"What can a snake offer but bites and poison?"

"It can offer information. Valuable."

Arjun pondered for a moment. He couldn't trust that man, not even a little bit. But as much as it angered him to admit it, they needed help, the team was at a dead end.

"What is it about?"

"First order your sniper to stop aiming."

"No." Arjun responded quickly and firmly.

Pac Katari sighed in defeat.

"It’s hard for you to trust huh? And I respect that. Bowman already told me about you." He slowly put his hand in his pocket, which upset the entire team who adjusted their grip on their weapons. "It's okay. I'm just going to take out my cell phone." The man reported.

Pac Katari took out a cell phone and showed a photo. Because of the distance they couldn't see very well what it was about. Arjun looked at Aly for a second and nodded.

Aly approached slowly, lowering her gun but still holding it. When she arrived next to the guerrilla, she looked at the photo he showed her. Aly frowned, feeling a whirlwind of emotions rise from the pit of her stomach.

"What is it about Alyssa?" Arjun asked, when he saw how his partner's expression changed drastically.

"It's about Sparrow." Aly didn't look away from the photograph.

"Your Sergeant is alive." Pac Katari informed, looking at Arjun with a serious expression.

The photograph showed Sparrow kneeling, with her hands raised. Surrounded by drug traffickers who pointed their weapons at her. But that wasn’t the most worrying thing.

"She has been captured by El Cardenall and… El Sueño." Aly couldn't believe it. The man they were looking for, the man they had to put a bullet in his head... they had him so close... And now that piece of shit had Sparrow hostage, pointing at her head with a gun. El Cardenal seemed to have a victorious smile on his lips.

"Vishta..." (shit...) Arjun cursed in Marathi.

"I propose a deal, Captain." Pac Katari spoke again "We both have the same goal: End the Santa Blanca cartel. We can help each other."

The captain thought for a moment. Weighing the options, the pros and cons, the risks and benefits.

"You have the strength and the skills. I have the knowledge and the necessary men." Pac Katari continued.

"We have to go after her, sir." Mandy spoke.

"I know."

"What do we do?"

"We need a plan. And more soldiers..." Arjun's mood only worsened. He tried to handle the situation as best he could, take care of his subordinates and achieve the objective. "We have to contact 141."

Arjun sighed and with the help of Mandy got up.

"I'll tell you what we'll do." Arjun spoke in an authoritative tone. Straightening his back and lifting his chin. Showing who was in charge. "You will have our services. We will help you in your fight against the cartel. In exchange we want resources, ammunition, radios, vehicles, information and protection." Arjun approached Pac Katari, imposing his height. "If you show me even the slightest suspicion of treason. I'll have my sniper pull the trigger while you sleep." Arjun threatened in a chilling tone.

"In exchange for El Sueño’s head? I can offer you much more." Paco Katari offered his hand.

Arjun looked at the hand for a few seconds and then looked towards the tree line. But not in the direction where the sniper's red dot came from, but in the direction of one of the guerrillas' flanks.

"That's enough! You can stop aiming."

Noises were heard in the bushes, a dark figure emerged from the trees. The frightened guerrillas turned towards the silhouette.

Jade came out of the trees still carrying the sniper. And with a look that was capable of making any guerrilla who was nearby retreat.

"Do you have more than one sniper?" Pac Katari asked

Arjun looked over his shoulder at him, "no."

That's right, Jade used the laser sight of her weapon as a decoy to make them believe she was hiding behind them. But she was really aiming from one of the flanks. Waiting for Arjun's signal to open fire if the situation got complicated. The guerrillas wouldn’t know where they would be attacked.

The snake had fallen into the jaws of the lion without knowing it.

Jade approached Aly and Mandy. She nodded to both of them in greeting.

"The perimeter is secured too. How are things going around here?"

"It seems they are negotiating the terms of a deal." Aly mentioned.

"Arjun’s angry." Mandy added.

"We all are." Jade sighed.

Arjun spoke for a few more minutes, with the leader of the rebel forces. Until he decided to return to his team.

"And?" Mandy asked.

"We have a deal."

___________

"Be careful with that! Can't you see that the blades are delicate?!" Mandy was trying to keep an eye on the guerrillas who were in charge of fixing the damage to the helicopter. "Jesus Christ... Sparrow would have fixed the helo in half the time..." Mandy murmured, placing both hands on her hips.

She sighed and looked around. The place where they were was incredible. She would never think that a place like that could be the base of operations for the rebel forces.

It was like a small town inside a mountain. A huge cave that had no roof, a huge hole where there were supposed to be huge rocks. It was like a hollow mountain with a huge hole through which sunlight came in, allowing vegetation and trees to grow inside. There were small wooden houses and cabins on the stones, walkways and bridges that connected them to each other. A stream crossed the cave and came out like a waterfall that fell who knows where.

It was the perfect lair.

Mandy still remembered how bad it was to get the helicopter down there. The hole was big but if a helicopter blade hit the rock, it could be fatal. But Mandy was too good to make a mistake like that.

She heard footsteps. She turned and saw Arjun approaching.

"How's your leg?" Mandy asked as she saw him limp towards her.

"It hurts like hell. But I can walk."

"It's an unusual place isn't it?" Mandy commented as the captain reached her side.

"It is. Although it’s a very good place to hide, I have to admit. There are families here, everyone helps each other. They are better organized than I thought." Arjun sighed.

"Mhm..." Mandy nodded. "How are things going there?"

"You don't want to know... Alyssa is angry."

Mandy raised her eyebrows "then I was right to stay out here."

"You're right…"

While inside one of the largest cabins, the one that was used to organize the operations of the rebel forces. Aly walked from one side to the other, nervous, furious.

"Aly, love. I understand your situation but–" Price tried to stay calm.

"But what, John?!" Aly put both her hands on her hips looking at the screen where the video call was running.

Price pursed his lips and shook his head, pacing the briefing room. When his wife got like that it was difficult to reason with her.

"It was her decision. She assumed the consequences, she knew she was going to be alone in this." Price was beginning to lose patience. He had been arguing with his wife for a long time, he wasn’t able to make her understand his situation. Price had water up to his neck, flooded with shit. He already had enough problems, and now Aly added one more.

"Are you really telling me this?!" Aly approached the computer, placing both hands on the table, she was about to tear off a piece of the furniture with just her nails.

"I can't be in two places at once."

"Sparrow is your sergeant. She is part of the 141." Aly emphasized the last word.

Price sighed and looked away. He knew where that speech was going to go.

On the other hand, Jade was behind Aly, with her arms crossed listening to the conversation. She shared a look with Ghost who was in the same situation with Price. Listening and observing.

Jade showed a small smile of compassion towards Ghost. It was an awkward moment for both of them. Jade didn't even know when the atmosphere had gotten so heated. Simon nodded slightly without moving from his spot, also not really knowing what to do. But intervening was the last option. They both knew their difference of opinions. Ghost was in favor of Price, the 141 had too many problems currently. Hannah wasn't an idiot, she knew what she had gotten herself into and what the consequences were. But Jade thought differently, she wasn't going to abandon her friend. They were going to find her, no matter what, with or without Price's help.

"Jonathan Price! Look at me when I talk to you!" Aly caught his attention again.

Price pursed his lips and took a deep breath. Reconnecting his gaze with Aly.

"I know you didn't choose Sparrow personally. She's not as close to you as Soap, Gaz or Ghost. But she's still your sergeant, she's still one of your subordinates." Aly continued talking, trying to control her anger. She still couldn't believe that Price had refused to help. That really made her angry and disappointed. "You were able to do all that for Laswell. When you found out that Kate had been kidnapped you were able to burn the entire world to save her."

"Aly..." Price sighed.

"Don't start John. You know damn well I'm right." Aly struggled to maintain her composure, a lump beginning to form in her throat. Anger had turned into helplessness. For having to crawl like that and ask for help because she felt like she wasn't capable of protecting her team. That she couldn't protect her friend. "You were able to do all that for Laswell and now you're going to stand by while they slowly kill Sparrow in a chair?"

Price listened to Aly's voice gradually break. And that broke his soul. He knew that both women were very close, they had been through a lot of shit together. Hell, Sparrow had helped Aly with the pregnancy, and even when Price was on mission, Sparrow had stayed with Aly to help raise Lily. Even when Hannah was still recovering from injuries from her accident in the mountains and couldn't go with the 141, she was there, helping Alyssa take care of her daughter.

"My hands are tied, Aly…" Price had a tired, even helpless expression. John wanted to do something, if it were up to him they would already be on their way to Bolivia. But the situation was different from when Laswell was kidnapped, very different.

Aly could see it, she knew that what Price was going through was also hard, very hard. But Aly had to try anything to save Hannah. She wouldn't forgive him if he didn't do anything about it. She shared a look with Jade. Charlotte had a look of concern for her friend. Aly looked mentally exhausted. Jade was too, but she had to stay strong. For Aly, for the team.

"If your hands are tied then find someone who has their hands free." Aly looked back at the screen.

Price knew who she was talking about.

"They are a bit far away. It will take them a while to get to Bolivia."

"You're old friends right? He'll listen to you."

He finally sighed.

"I'll make a call." Price nodded, not very convinced. That was a big favor to ask without warning.

"Good. We'll keep in touch, over." Aly hung up the call without even saying goodbye.

The room fell silent. Price sighed. He was cornered, Makarov, Shepherd, Sparrow… Every time he felt like he had less hair on his head. He felt Ghost's silent gaze on his back. He knew Ghost would support him in this, he wasn't so sure about the rest.

"I need a fucking smoke." Price murmured, patting Ghost's shoulder and ready to leave the base.

When the fresh air from outside hit his face he felt like he could breathe again. He hated arguing with Aly, he always had. He would probably have to sleep on the couch for a while.

He took out a cigar and placed it between his lips, lit it and took a long drag. Feeling the nicotine run through his veins. He watched the place, how the world revolved around him, ignoring what was happening.

"I sense that the conversation hasn't gone very well." Laswell's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"You sense well."

"You told her no." Kate stated.

"With the bloody mess we have here… I think it would be worse for them if we go there. We can't risk their mission anymore, we can't bring our shit to them."

"You haven't told her then."

"I didn't want to worry her anymore. She's had enough with Sparrow." Price responded by taking another drag of the cigar.

Laswell sighed, took out a cigarette, and Price offered her the lighter. She nodded in thanks, taking a drag as well.

"I got her into this." Laswell shook the cigarette lightly to knock the ash onto the floor.

"You didn't force her. It was her decision." Price justified. "Sparrow is all grown up."

"Now you defend her? A month ago you flatly refused to give up Sparrow for this operation." Laswell raised an eyebrow.

"Well..." Price smoked a little more "You know how Sparrow is, she would have gone even if I forbade him."

"That's true."

There was silence. Finally Price grunted and threw the cigar to the ground.

"What are you going to do?" Laswell asked.

"Place a call to Australia. You take care of calling Sergeant Pham."

Aly was right. Hannah was his soldier, he had known her since Task Force 141 was formed years ago, and she may not have been one of his chosen ones but they went through hell and back on more than one occasion. So he wasn't going to sit idly by and do nothing. If his hands were tied, he'd find someone with his hands free who could break that bastard of El Sueños' nose. That was personal.

"I don't think Anna is up to it John."

"It's Sparrow who's tied to a damn chair. She'll accept it."

______________

The curtains were drawn. There was almost no sunlight coming in. It was noon and she still hadn't gotten out of bed. So that? She didn't want to face the world, and the world wasn't going to care one bit about what she was going through. The world could go on fucking spinning without her. Fuck the world. She could also roll over in bed. Trying not to let her thoughts flood her with another existential crisis, she spent the day sleeping so she didn't have to think and even then, she found herself terribly tired.

The overwhelming silence of her room was interrupted by the buzzing vibration of her phone. Damn she thought she had turned it off. She lifted her face from the pillow and checked who the hell was calling her.

Her eyes tried to adjust to the brightness of the screen when she could finally read the name that appeared.

"What?" She was confused, why was she calling her? In the end she picked up the call and put the cell phone to her ear. "Yeah?"

"Anna?" Laswell's voice came over the phone's small speaker.

"That's me..." Annabelle sighed and rolled over on the bed, staying in the middle looking at the ceiling.

She didn't seem to want to talk much. Where was her endless energy? That pyromaniac gremlin attitude. Where was it? Probably under all that mountain of dirty and used tissues.

"It's urgent. I need you to get equipped and prepare. I'll send you the plane ticket and the exact coordinates." Laswell began to explain.

"Wait wait. Just a moment" Anna frowned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "What are you talking about?"

A sigh was heard from Laswell. She seemed tired, was it something very serious?

"It's about Sparrow."

"Birdie? But wasn't she on a super secret mission in Bolivia with Jade and the rest?"

There was a pause.

"She has been kidnapped. The team lost contact with her more than 24 hours ago."

"What?!" Anna sat up suddenly. "Are you sure about that?!"

Suddenly a feeling of worry washed over her. One of her closest friends was in danger, and she was there. Rolling around in bed non-stop.

"We have visual evidence. She has been seen as a hostage." Laswell explained.

"Shit, biride..." Anna rubbed her face with her free hand.

"I know. But there's no time to waste. The team needs reinforcements, and the 141 is up to their necks in shit, so you're joining the 2nd Commando Regiment, as soon as possible."

"With the Aussies?" Anna asked, "Has Price called his old friend again?"

"He's in it. You know it's hard for him to ask that man for favors. They're like brothers."

Anna nodded as if Laswell could see her. Then she sighed.

"Alright, I'll do it."

"Great. I'll send you the details and exact coordinates. I'll also keep you informed about the team and reinforcements."

The conversation lasted a little longer. Anna asked about the task force. Especially for Gaz, his brother of another blood. She really missed them but her situation was complicated.

In the end she said goodbye to Laswell and hung up the call, remaining silent in that dark room. Then she looked to the side. Towards one of the corners of the room. The luggage bag, with all her gear and clothes completely disorganized and lying around.

Anna groaned and got out of bed.

"Fuck, Hannah..."

_________

Laughter filled his ears. His two daughters were playing and prancing in the park. Enjoying that weekend with his father. Not every weekend they could spend it with him.

Ava, the eldest daughter, about thirteen years old, was chasing Mia, her eight-year-old little sister. It wasn’t cold that afternoon in Perth, the sun warmed the grass and there were no clouds in the sky.

Even the stoic Captain Lachlan Jones smiled as he watched his daughters play and laugh. Those small moments are what he treasured most, those moments of calm. It was like entering a paradise inside a bubble, to recharge his batteries and return to hell later. But Lachlan didn't want to think about that. He was sitting on a bench enjoying the sun while supervising his girls.

When they were tired of playing he would buy them each an ice cream. And maybe for him too.

"Oi! Come on dad! Come play with us!" Ava called to her father, waving her hand in the air.

Lachlan's smile widened a little more and he raised his hand, signaling that he'd better stay on the bench.

Mia complained when she saw that her father wasn’t paying attention to them.

"Don't be a grumpy old fart! Come on! Come play with us!" Ava insisted even more.

Lachlan sighed and stood up. He couldn't say no to his daughters. Both girls laughed excitedly and happily, but just as Lachlan stood up his phone started ringing.

Ava's smile faded a little as she watched her Father pick up the call and start talking to someone.

"Who's calling Dad?" Mia asked.

"Dunno..." Ava frowned trying to listen to the conversation but her father was too far away to hear.

She saw Lachlan shake his head several times, sigh, pinch the bridge of his nose, and frown. Ava didn't like where this was going.

Lachlan's expression showed discontent. But after a long conversation and arguing he ended up agreeing. He had given in to something and neither Mia nor Ava had any idea what it was. But they wouldn’t like it.

He approached his daughters with a serious expression.

"What's up, dad?" Ava asked worriedly.

Lachlan thought for a moment what to say.

"Dad’s got work." He said it in the softest tone possible.

Suddenly the expression of both girls changed to one of disappointment.

"But how come? you promised we'd spend the weekend together!" Ava complained.

Lachlan pursed his lips and nodded. He knelt in front of his daughters so he could be at their height.

"I know love... and I'm so sorry." Lachlan tucked one of her locks of hair behind Ava's ear. "I promise to make it up to you when I get back."

Both girls were insisting to their father for a long time. But Lachlan could no longer change his mind. He had accepted. He couldn't turn back anymore.

Lachlan ended up taking his two daughters to his ex-wife's house. Both girls complained non-stop about their father's work and the little time he spent with them.

Lachlan sighed as he drove. His head was starting to hurt. His daughters had a lot of perseverance and too much energy.

"If you keep quiet I'll convince your mother to buy you ice cream when you get home."

"Chocolate ice cream?" Ava asked.

"Yes…"

Mia and Ava looked at each other for a few seconds, silently discussing whether it was a good offer.

"Deal."

They ended up arriving at Lachlan's ex-wife's house.

An incredibly beautiful woman answered the door, tall, with long blonde hair. With a lioness gaze on her face.

The woman looked at the girls and then at Lachlan.

"Has something happened?" She asked, confused.

Both girls went inside the house.

"Ask dad!"

The woman looked at her daughters and then at Lachlan. She tried to understand what was happening but soon discovered it in her ex-husband's eyes. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"You’ve been called in, yeah?"

Lachlan nodded slightly.

"Sorry. It's an emergency that—"

The blonde woman raised a hand stopping the captain's excuses.

"You don't have to tell me anything. It's not my heart you’re breaking, it’s theirs." The woman had a stoic attitude like her ex-partner.

Lachlan glanced at his daughters who were already sitting on the living room couch with long faces. He snorted a little sadly, but didn't show it.

"I know…" Lachlan replied. "Breaks mine too."

They both looked at each other for a few long seconds. Without saying anything. Expressions that said nothing but that hid deeply buried feelings, and that for the good of both of them, should remain that way.

Damn, that was the most beautiful woman Lachlan had ever seen. No matter how hard he tried, that look always managed to awaken his stone heart. He still loved her, that was clear. But he didn't want to complicate things more for her.

So he put on his cap and cleared his throat a little.

"I'd better go."

"Yes. You have work to do. As always."

Lachlan pursed his lips and hid his gaze behind his cap. He turned to leave, but his ex-wife's voice stopped him.

"Just…" she hesitated for a moment whether to say it or not, "be careful. And… come back in one piece."

Lachlan didn't know what to say. He was mesmerized by her eyes.

"Our daughters need a father. I can't do all the work alone." The woman looked away.

Lachlan gave a small smile and nodded.

"Yeah, ‘course."

The woman nodded, and also smiled slightly. Almost imperceptible, but Lachlan knew it was there.

In the end Lachlan left. Leaving his family behind once again, so he could do his duty. For a few seconds his heart sank, it always hurt him to leave everything, to stop being a father and become the captain from B Company of the 2nd Commando Regiment again.

But as soon as he got into his car, his stoic personality returned. He grabbed his phone and called someone.

A phone rang on the other side of Australia.

A young man was fixing the engine of one of the farm's tractors. It seemed to make strange noises. He had his hands inside the engine when he heard his phone ringing somewhere in the garage.

"Fuuuck me, the fuck is it?" Damien growled morosely. The tractor was giving him problems.

He got out of the tractor and walked to the work table, where his cell phone was. He kicked some tools that were laying on the floor while he wiped the motor oil from his hands with a dirty rag. He slung the rag over his shoulder and answered the phone.

"Yeah? What?"

"Whitlock." His captain's voice was heard on the other end of the line.

"Boss?" Damien asked, confused. Lachlan didn't usually call unless it was extremely important.

"Listen, I know we just got back from a mission but…" Lachlan began to tell his sergeant the situation.

Damien walked out of the garage listening to what Lachlan had to say, breathing in fresh air, looking out over the farm and the fields. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon. A chicken that had probably escaped from the coop was pacing and pecking around Damien's boots.

Then Damien frowned.

"Hey? Didya just say that Hannah has been kidnapped? Sparrow? The Sparrow we know? Our bird? From 141?"

"Deadset."

"Fuck me dead…." Damien massaged his forehead. "She always ends up gettin’ into trouble like this, her and her reckless decisions."

"Well, reminds me of a certain someone, ay..?" Lachlan responded wryly. Knowing perfectly well that Damien was just like Sparrow or even worse.

Damien chuckled. "Bugger off! You're exaggeratin’, sir."

Then he sighed and his expression became serious again. He looked at the ground, at the chicken that was walking around without a care in the world. Damien and Sparrow were close friends, damn, almost like siblings. Since what happened to his best friend Daniel, Sparrow has been the closest thing to a best friend that he had, Alyssa was too, but Sparrow was the one who followed him in all his craziness. Aly was there to scold them every time.

He touched his shoulder where he had the gunshot wound. An old scar from a couple of years ago. That afternoon in Afghanistan, the ambush, the sniper. Daniel died in front of him, trying to heal Damien's wound. And he could do nothing but be dragged away from him. It was incredible how quickly your life slipped through your fingers. One second you're alive and the next you have a bullet inside your brain.

Damien remembered how much the death of his best friend hurt. Damn he still hadn't even recovered yet, despite the years. And to think that the same thing could happen with Sparrow made him sick to his stomach. Hell, maybe he wouldn't be able to get back up from a second hit.

Damien clicked his tongue. He had returned home just less than a week ago. And now he had to return to the battlefield. But for Sparrow he would go to hell and back. She would do the same for him.

"When we headin’ off?" Damien asked.

"Now. Grab your shit, we're goin’ ‘gainst the clock."

"Rog.".

_______________

"Anna." Lachlan called her. "Your turn."

The woman nodded and stood in front of the armored door. She placed the explosive charge and activated it.

"We're going to blow up this fucking building." Anna murmured with a smile on her face.

"Oi, this is gonna upset all the fucking drug dealers in the building and for miles around." Damien whispered, looking down the dark hallway they had come down.

"I didn't think you were a coward Damo." Anna raised an eyebrow and smiled as she finished preparing the explosive charge.

"I’d like to get back to the HQ in one piece." Damien counterattacked, narrowing his eyes.

"And you will! You just have to trust me. And this beauty right here." Anna finished off the explosive.

"They’re gonna catch us with our pants down and they’re gonna leave us like strainers if you lot don't shut up." Lachlan scolded them both. Damien and Anna had been arguing like siblings since they started the mission. And both the sergeants were starting to get on Lachlan's nerves.

Arjun sighed, trying to stay calm. This whole situation tenses his muscles and stresses him out too much. Arjun could swear he was starting to lose his hair because of the stress. He just wanted to get Sparrow out of there alive. Hell, he didn't even know if Sparrow was still alive. But he would soon find out.

The team had infiltrated what appeared to be a military base of operations for the Santa Blanca Cartel. A huge base located in a valley between mountains. It was literally the devil’s cave.

After the call with Price, Aly managed to find Sparrow's locator. The coordinates indicated a fixed location. It seemed like they had Sparrow held somewhere. Thanks to the help of the Bolivian rebel forces, they found the place. It looked like a damn impregnable fortress. Only someone with suicidal instincts would want to go in there. But luckily, reinforcements arrived a few days later. Lachlan, along with Damien and Anna, joined the team.

They managed to enter with the help of the guerrillas. They created a distraction by causing an explosion close enough to the base for the narcos to direct their gaze there. Giving the team the perfect opportunity to sneak inside the base. Arjun, Lachlan and Damien were in charge of eliminating the Narcos and guards inside the base in a stealthy manner. Checking all the floors, room by room, looking for Sparrow. Anna had the same job as the rest, but she was also in charge of placing explosive charges at key points in the building's structure, so that when the time came for extraction they could demolish the building and hit the Santa Blanca cartel right in the balls. Show those bastards what happens when you mess with the wrong team.

Finally they reached the underground levels. Aly reported that there was a shielded room without cameras. The team wasted no more time, suspecting that they might be holding Sparrow there.

"Alright. Everything is ready." Anna announced, proud of her work.

"Right. Sort yourselves out!" Lachlan announced, placing himself with his back to the wall next to the door. "Damien, you make first entrance."

"Bet your fucking arse I will."

The team stood on both sides, with their backs against the wall.

"On my signal, Pham." Lachlan ordered. There were a few seconds of tension. Lachlan assured that everyone was ready. He glanced at Arjun who nodded. "Now!'

Anna pressed the detonator. A strong wave of heat hit everyone but not enough to hurt them. Damien wasted no time, with his rifle raised he entered, pointing in all directions. Arjun followed him and then Anna and Lachlan.

They checked the entire room and realized that no one was there. The room looked like a dark warehouse lit by a single, sad light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

"Clear." Damien muttered.

"Where are you Han…?" Anna murmured.

"Well… She's definitely been here." Lachlan kicked a corpse, turning it over. He had severe bruises, a broken nose and a broken glass stuck in his neck.

"There are three more," Anna announced, looking around the room.

Arjun turned over another dead body of a narco. He had a broken arm and neck.

"It was Sparrow's job." Arjun recognized his sergeant's fighting pattern.

"Damn... did our bird do that?" Damien looked at the other bodies.

"We call her Sparrow but she charges like a fucking bull..." Anna muttered.

Arjun was starting to get impatient, finding those corpses was a good sign. Sparrow was alive and had the strength to fight, but it also meant that she was moving, and they had to get to her before someone more dangerous did it first.

"Arjun." Lachlan called him.

The captain approached the other captain.

"What is it?" Arjun asked.

"Have a gander at that." Lachlan pointed his chin at a work table full of torture tools, some of which were bloody. There was a battery with cables and clips and a cattle prod.

"Fuckin’ hell…" Damien approached the table.

"Mh?" Arjun turned to Damien with a raised eyebrow.

"That's a cattle prod. It's an electric wand. Some farmers use it to push cattle and make cows move forward. Not me of course. If that thing is used on a person you can cause significant damage." Damien muttered with a frown. He touched the object carefully. "It's still hot..."

"They used it recently. Sons of bitches..." Lachlan growled.

Arjun tightened his grip on the rifle. The knuckles turned pale and the veins on his arms began to stand out more than usual.

"She has been tortured here. There is no doubt about that." Arjun muttered.

"I don't see the chair." Anna asked, looking around.

"They didn't use a chair." Arjun pointed to some chains hanging from the ceiling. Blood was dripping from them. "They hung her like a fucking animal ready to be skinned."

Lachlan looked around.

"Look at the size of those chains. How did she get free of those?" Anna approached, amazed.

"Those corpses are still bleeding. She shouldn’t be far." Lachlan reported.

Arjun was still immersed in his own thoughts when suddenly something lying in a corner caught his attention. He approached and crouched in front.

"What is that?" Anna approached curiously.

Arjun was holding Sparrow's bulletproof vest, now bloody and with empty pockets. It had the locator still attached. Arjun took a deep breath trying to stay calm. He tore off the patch and stared at it. That patch with the skull of a king and a sword piercing the skull, the word "Kingslayer" was embroidered at the bottom. The patch was stained with blood of course. That sight of his sergeant's patch covered in blood only altered his calm and professionalism. At that moment Arjun was like a ticking bomb. If he found El Sueño right now...

Arjun grabbed the radio button and contacted Aly and Jade.

While the rest of the team had checked the entire building, Aly and Jade went up to the upper floors, looking for the control room. Where Aly could have full access to the cameras and electrical systems. Jade escorted Aly there, stealthily finishing off whoever crossed their path.

"Alyssa. We have news." Arjun's voice was heard over the Comms.

"Go ahead captain." Aly replied. It was difficult for her to hide her nervousness. She just wanted to find Sparrow and get out there.

"We have found the torture room but there is no sign of Sparrow. The guards are dead, and judging by the wounds Sparrow has recently escaped."

Aly sighed. Sparrow was alive, that was a huge relief.

"We will notify the rebels to establish a search perimeter."

Jade spread a map on the table. They both looked at it for a few moments. And they agreed where the perimeter should be established. Jade nodded.

Aly looked at the map, Sparrow could be anywhere. She sighed in defeat, it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Suddenly a hand landed on her shoulder. Aly looked up to see Jade giving her a comforting smile.

"We'll find Hannah. Don't worry."

Aly tried to smile and nodded.

"Thank you Jade."

The redhead nodded.

"I will inform the rebel forces." Jade announced, and quickly contacted Pac Katari.

Aly nodded, and looked back at the cameras.

"¿Dónde chingados estás Han?" (Where the fuck are you Han) Aly murmured worriedly.

After chatting with Pac Katari, Jade returned to Aly.

"The rebels report that the Narcos have heard the explosion and are on high alert. They are clearing the entire building."

"Understood. We will meet you as soon as possible." Arjun announced. "Alyssa, it's time to turn off the lights again. We'll take care of those bastards."

"I'm working on it" Aly was in charge of turning off all the electrical systems, thus the alarms and communication antennas of the drug traffickers were completely unusable. They couldn't call in reinforcements. "All systems disabled."

"Roger that Aly." Arjun replied. "Keep us informed of your situation at all times. Understood?"

Suddenly she heard something. It was almost imperceptible, it came from outside, on the other side of the door. It was as if…

"Alyssa?" Arjun asked Aly again after not receiving a response. Aly seemed to ignore him.

Aly frowned and looked at Jade.

"Have you heard that?"

Jade looked at her confused.

"Hear what?"

They both remained silent, listening. It was heard again, it was a sharp, fast, melodic sound.

"I think it comes from outside, from the forest." Jade tried to guess.

"No, no..." Aly paid more attention. Closing her eyes and listening as much as she could.

She waited a little and then heard it again for the third time.

"It's like…" Jade frowned.

"Like a..." then Aly's eyes widened. "a whistle."

As soon as Aly discovered it, she didn't hesitate to run to the door and throw it open.

"ah?! H-hey! Aly wait!" Jade tried to stop her.

It was too dangerous to start running through the hallways! The building was full of guards! What was happening to her now?!

Jade followed her trying to catch up.

"Aly!" Jade tried to follow her, making sure no one was following them.

Oh my God. Had she perhaps gone crazy?

A group of three drug traffickers appeared from another hallway. Jade growled and pointed her gun. She shot all three between the eyes.

Screw discretion.

Aly stopped at an intersection of hallways, listened again.

"Come on, come on..." she murmured, panting.

"Aly, my god, what's going on?!" Jade finally caught up to her.

"It has to be around here." Aly looked in all directions.

Jade heard the voices of the drug traffickers who began to get closer and closer. Judging by the sound of the boots, there were many of them.

"¡Vamos cabrones! ¡Tienen que estar por aquí cerca!"

"We have to get out of here. We can't hold them off for long. I'm low on ammunition too." Jade stood in front of Aly, with an expression of complete concern for her friend. "Aly, what are you looking for?"

"I just need a little more time, I just..."

"We have the narcos breathing down our necks. We have to get out of here and return with the rest of the team."

Another whistle was heard.

Aly turned her head towards the sound as if she was an owl. And without saying anything else she started running again.

"Aly!" Jade followed her again.

They both walked through the hallways. Shots could be heard coming from the lower floors. The team had come into contact with the enemy. Over the radio, Arjun and Lachlan could be heard shouting orders between gunshots. But shots could also be heard coming from further ahead, right where they were heading and that worried Jade.

Aly opened an emergency door that led to a narrower, darker hallway. It was illuminated by red emergency lights. Jade reached her.

"We have to lock the door, now." Jade grabbed the ax and emergency fire hose on a nearby wall and managed to bar the door. "We have an army of Narcos on the other side. And if we don't hurry they're going to—..." Jade's words were interrupted by pained moans coming from the dark hallway.

Aly and Jade stared into the complete darkness, dimly illuminated by the red emergency bulb. Listening to someone dying of pain. That situation seemed like it had become a horror movie. Jade pulled out the gun slowly, Aly did the same, loading the gun trying not to make too much noise.

Suddenly they saw something moving on the ground. Something was crawling in the distance. It didn't have a specific shape. Until he got close enough to the red light and they realized he was a drug trafficker who was crawling because his legs didn't work. He was bleeding to death, but still he was fighting with all his might to run away from something.

"Perra asquerosa, maldita zorra…¡El Sueño te encontrará y va a hacerse un abrigo de piel contigo!" (You filthy bitch, you fucking slut...El Sueño will find you and make a fur coat out of you!) The drug trafficker cursed whoever he was fleeing from.

Suddenly a whistle was heard, which sounded much darker thanks to the echo generated by the narrow hallway.

The drug dealer raised his head and looked back. That was his fatal mistake, as a deafening gunshot was heard and a bullet flew down the hallway until it pierced the man's skull. The corpse remained motionless, staining the floor.

Jade and Aly's breathing was heavy. They didn't expect something like that. Footsteps were heard, a pair of heavy boots approaching them.

"Do you think..." Jade finally understood, but she still remained alert, holding the gun.

"She's here." Aly smiled. Her hands were shaking, from the adrenaline, from the tension, from fatigue. Everything had accumulated at that moment.

She put her fingers to her lips, took a breath, and whistled too. She whistled, creating a short little melody, just two notes, but it was enough to make the footsteps stop for a second.

Aly stood expectantly, waiting, waiting for an answer.

The silence became endless until finally, from the depths of that dark hallway, the song of a sparrow was heard. Incredibly sharp and fast.

Aly covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes filling with tears. Her lower lip was trembling and her heart was pumping rapidly.

At last.

A dark silhouette appeared, tall and large. That person had one hand supported, they seemed to be limping. The silhouette whistled again, another sparrow.

Aly couldn't stand it anymore, and started running towards that silhouette. She ran and ran until her body collided with the other, she didn't care. She hugged them tightly, hiding her face in the other person's chest. Aly ended up collapsing, tears streaming down her cheeks as a pair of arms wrapped around them lovingly. A heavy hand rested on her hair and stroked it lightly.

"I told you I would find you." Aly murmured, resting her forehead on her chest.

The chest vibrated with a light laugh. Aly looked up, seeing a smiling Sparrow.

"And I never doubted you" Hannah widened her smile.

Aly smiled too and wiped away her tears.

"You are an idiot." Aly joked between sobs.

"Well someone has to be." Sparrow responded with a chuckle.

They hugged for a few more seconds until it was time to separate. Sparrow watched Jade slowly approach.

"Hannah…"

Sparrow smiled.

"I'm glad to see you well Jade."

"Oh, shut up." Jade hugged her too, tightly. "You made us very worried. We thought we had lost you."

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting." Sparrow reciprocated the hug.

"Don't say that."

They both separated.

"Jesus, Sparrow, you don't look good." Jade commented worriedly. "My God, you're bleeding."

Despite Sparrow's tired smile, her body was covered in bruises and she limped on one leg.

Aly lifted Hannah's shirt and opened her eyes in horror.

"You have been shot."

"Yeah, one of the guards managed to catch me when I tried to run away."

She had a gunshot wound to her lower abdomen, and it was spitting out dark blood, slowly but constantly. On the sides of her torso there were burns, small and surrounded by reddened skin. Surely from when the torturers used the cattle prod.

Jade took one of Sparrow's hands. The wrists were mangled, covered in bruises, marks and dried blood.

"How many nails have they pulled out?" Jade asked, looking at Sparrow's hands in terror.

"Four... It wasn't enough to make me talk." Sparrow looked exhausted, swaying from side to side, it was as if she would collapse at any moment.

"We have to get out of here. Now." Jade ordered.

Aly had Sparrow put one of her arms over her shoulders.

"Let's get you out of here Han."

"I'll inform the rest." Jade pressed the button on her radio. "Captain. We have found Sparrow. I repeat, we have found Sparrow."

"What?! Are you serious?" Lachlan replied. Although his voice sounded distorted by the gunshots. They seemed to be in quite a bind. "Take her out of the building and we will meet at the extraction point."

"And leave you alone with that army of Narcos?!" Jade exclaimed.

"It's an order. Getting Sparrow to safety is a priority. Dami—..." Interference cut off Lachlan's words.

Jade was going to answer but suddenly knocks and gunshots were heard on the other side of the door. Someone was trying to open it.

"Get ready." Jade ordered, taking out her karambit and gun. "That door isn't going to hold up much longer. Aly." Jade called to her partner.

"I know." Aly pulled out her gun with one hand and held Sparrow with the other.

"Let me help." Sparrow took a step forward but Aly stopped her.

"Are you crazy? Have you even seen yourself?! You've been tortured for days Hannah, you're bleeding to death and you can barely stand."

"I can still fight, I didn't get here by pure luck. Let me do it."

"Aly is right." Jade answered, she had returned to her serious attitude, ready to murder whoever came her way. "You're in no condition to engage in combat. Besides... We already trusted you once, now it's your turn to trust us."

Sparrow tried to reproach again but Jade's look was enough to silence her. Sparrow sighed.

"Then kick those sons of bitches' arses for me."

Jade smiled and nodded.

"Aly?"

"ready.."

Jade leaned her back against the wall of the door. She adjusted her grip on the gun and knife. Aly did the same and pointed towards the door.

They waited, the gunshots and screams continued until suddenly everything was silent. The three looked at each other. The atmosphere was tense again. A heavy silence that squeezed everyone's lungs. Suddenly there were loud, heavy knocks on the door. Someone was trying to knock the door down.

Everyone was on alert until the door finally gave way and burst open. Jade didn’t hesitate to stick the barrel of her gun into the temple of the person who had just burst in. She was about to pull the trigger when she suddenly recognized the blonde mullet.

"Whitlock?!" Jade asked, confused.

"Fuckin' hell, Jade!" Damien exclaimed.

"Damien!" Aly sighed in relief and lowered the gun. "Shouldn't you be with the rest of the team?"

"Yeah, well, the captains sent me to look for you as soon as you didn't respond to Arjun."

"Damien fucking Whitlock… What in the bloody hell are you doing here?!" Sparrow exclaimed with a frown. Then she looked at Aly. "Seriously?!"

"We couldn't rescue you alone. We needed reinforcements." Aly shrugged.

"And of all people... it had to be him?!" Sparrow pointed at Damien.

"Oi! Drop that shitty attitude and show some appreciation that I even bothered to show up!" Damien took a step forward, clearly pissed.

Sparrow removed her arm from Aly's shoulders and straightened her back so that she was level with Damien. Holding her abdomen because of the wound.

"Appreciation? I don't owe you anything! I didn't ask you to come! I could get out of here all by myself!" Sparrow took another step forward.

They were like two dogs ready to fight and tear each other's throats out.

“Guys please…” Aly sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Clearly tired of both of their attitudes.

Jade simply watched the two of them as if she were watching a tennis match. What was happening here?

"You know, I was so comfortable back home, enjoying my days off when suddenly I get a fucking call that a certain little bird needs to be rescued on the other fucking side of the world."

"And they really thought you were the best one? You're always getting in the way of people with your huge butt!"

"And you can barely even walk with those huge duck feet!"

They spent a few tense seconds looking into each other's eyes, being only a few centimeters away. But in the end they both couldn't help it and a smile escaped their lips.

"C’mon, come ‘ere..."

They hugged each other tightly and patted each other on the back. The two chuckled.

"Don't scare me like that again..." Damien murmured, patting Hannah's head.

Sparrow snorted, trying to hold back a smile. She was really happy to have Damien there, she was able to trust him with her life without even thinking about it. She just liked to annoy him, and he liked to do that too.

"Sorry Damo." She rested her forehead on her friend's shoulder.

Aly sighed in relief and smiled. They always behave like this. Like two siblings who hate and love each other at the same time.

"What has happened?" Jade asked.

"Eventually you get used to it." Aly shrugged.

Damien and Sparrow chuckled. But suddenly Hannah's expression changed completely, she had turned completely pale and seemed dizzy again.

"Oh bloody hell…"

"Hannah!" Aly tried to reach her before she collapsed but Damien was faster and reached her first.

"Sparrow, what's wrong with you?!" Damien held Sparrow as best he could.

Hannah was slowly losing consciousness.

"She's losing too much blood. We need to get her out of here and have Mandy take a look at her." Jade ordered.

Suddenly interference was heard on the radio again.

"We have a visual of El Cardenal!" Lachlan's voice came over the radio amidst the gunshots and noises of the gunfight. "He's running away! Third floor! Right next to the east windows! We can't reach him with the mess here. You're going to have to take care of it!"

"Third floor? That's two floors down, we won't reach it. Much less carrying Sparrow."

"You go... I'll stay..." Sparrow muttered barely.

"I would rather die than leave you here." Damien answered with a completely serious look.

Jade was thoughtful the whole time.

"Take care of Hannah. I'll take care of El Cardenal." She put the gun back in its holster.

"You won't have time, there are too many stairs." Damien shook his head.

"I'm not going down the stairs." Jade answered determinedly, checking the harness that surrounded her thighs and hips. She took down a rappel rope from across her chest and tied one end to the harness and the other to a pair of carabiners.

Hannah looked up and chuckled weakly as she understood.

"Sometimes I think you're crazier than me..." Sparrow replied. "Just make sure the knots are tight."

Jade smiled and rested her hand on Sparrow's shoulder.

"You worry about staying alive, Han."

"I'll try not to disappoint you." Hannah laughed weakly.

Jade snorted, trying not to laugh in a situation like that, and looked at Alyssa and Damien.

"I leave her in your charge."

"Good luck, Jade." Aly nodded.

Jade nodded back and left. She started running down the hallways they had come through before. In one hand she held the gun and in the other the rappelling rope. She encountered several enemies who didn’t even have time to raise their weapons. Jade didn’t hesitate to shoot them in the head the moment they appeared in her field of vision. A very big guy stood in her way, trying to stop her. But with a quick pirouette she managed to throw him to the ground, rested her knee on his neck and shot him point-blank in the temple. Evidently the shooting had attracted more drug traffickers, so Jade hurried and ran.

She ended up reaching the end of the hallway, which opened onto some huge windows. Jade listened to the Narcos hot on her heels. She slid nimbly along the floor until she reached one of the concrete columns that supported the ceiling. She had arrived at the right place. She wrapped the rope around the column and secured it with the carabiner. As best she could, she measured the rope and did the calculations in her head. Was it a suicide? Yes. But there was no time to think about it. If she thought twice, El Cardenal would escape from under her nose.

The drug traffickers arrived, the bullets began to fly near her, threatening to pierce her body at any moment. Jade didn't waste any more time, she got up and ran towards the windows, without stopping for a second. She covered her face with her forearms and hit the glass. It went through the window, breaking the entire glass. The small pieces flew through the air, they remained suspended in the air, like Jade, for a few milliseconds, as if everything were in slow motion. But gravity soon did its work, the weight of the world hitting the pit of her stomach as she began to fall. She descended until the rope was completely taut, and like a pendulum the rope made Jade go from falling in the air to about to hit the windows two floors below.

Jade frowned as soon as she saw El Cardeanl near the windows. With her boots first, she burst into the building again, breaking the windows and taking El Cardenal with her. The sole of her boot impacted his cheek.

They both rolled on the ground. Jade got up as best she could, shook her head trying to get rid of the dizziness. From the corner of her eye she saw Gustavo Serrano, El Cardenal himself, who had already managed to recover from the kick that Charlotte had given him in the face. Jade pulled out the gun as soon as she realized it. But El Cardenal pulled out another gun and also pointed it at Jade.

"Mr. Serrano. Drop the weapon." Jade ordered firmly. "If you don't I will be forced to pull the trigger."

The man didn't say anything, he lowered the gun but instead of letting it go, he raised it higher.

"Sir." Jade threatened again.

Now the barrel of his gun rested on his own temple.

"Santa Muerte will come for all of us sooner or later." El Cardenal spoke in a sinister tone. "We are all sinners. Responsible for our actions. Only La Santa Muerte can bring us before the Lord."

"Drop the gun. You don't want to do this." Jade shifted her weight from one leg to the other nervously. They needed El Cardinal alive. And that son of a bitch was willing to take his own life without even blinking.

Where did she have to aim? To the leg? No, even if she fired, that wouldn't stop him from pulling the trigger. To the hand? It was too close to the head.

Shit…!

"Sacrifices must be made for the common good. To preserve what is good and what is pure."

The Cardinal closed his eyes and looked at the ceiling. And he pulled the trigger.

"¡NO!"

But the bullet never went through Gustavo Serrano's head. In fact, a punch hit El Cardenal directly on the cheek, causing the bullet to deflect and hit a wall. Gustavo Serrano rolled on the ground from the impact.

Jade looked at the newcomer. Arjun shook his hand trying to relax his fingers.

"Captain…"

Jade realized that Arjun's eyes radiated anger, contempt and even madness.

Arjun had had enough of that fucking game. Could that man really take his own life after what he did to his sergeant? No, he did not deserve such a merciful fate. He deserved to suffer, just as he had made Sparrow suffer.

El Cardenal rubbed his sore jaw from the blow. He grunted and tried to get to his feet. But Arjun didn't let him. He kicked him in the mouth with his boot, causing him to fall to the ground again.

"Santa Muerte is not interested in you yet.Motherfucker." Arjun growled. "Do you think you can torture one of my soldiers for days and not suffer the consequences?"

"Sacrifices are necessary to—..."

Arjun hit him again.

"Sacrifices?! You are fucking genocidal. You bring hell to the innocent. You cheat, steal and kill for your own benefit without giving a shit. And you want to talk to me about sacrifice?!"

Arjun hit him again and again. Leaving the gloves soaked in blood. He didn't care about anything anymore. The chains, the torture tools, the cattle prod, Sparrow's Operation Kingslayer patch so stained with blood that the colors could no longer be distinguished. Just imagining that they had used all this on his sergeant made his blood boil. Arjun only saw red. Blood was splashing on his face, he didn't hear anything, his ears were ringing.

"Arjun!" Jade untied the rope still tied to her harness. "It's enough!"

Jade tried to grab Arjun by the shoulders but she didn't have enough strength to push him away.

"We need him alive!" Jade tried again. "Come on!" Jade's blood ran cold as she saw El Cardenal's disfigured face, all swollen and full of blood. He had to hurry or Arjun would beat him to death.

Suddenly another pair of larger, stronger arms appeared and between the two of them they pushed Arjun away from Gustavo Serrano.

"Arjun! Calm down, mate!" Lachlan pulled Arjun along while Jade went to inspect El Cardenal's condition.

"Let me go Jones! This bastard has to pay!" Arjun exclaimed terribly angrily.

Lachlan placed his body between Gustavo Serrano and the other captain, and put his hand on Arjun's chest.

"I understand your pain, Dhingra. But right now we need him alive. He is the right hand of El Sueño. We cannot waste this opportunity." Lachlan spoke calmly while still looking Arjun in the eyes.

"You've seen the torture room. What he's done to Sparrow…" Arjun closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No… he already lost a very close friend, and he still blamed himself for it. He had to be a better leader, he had to protect his people. It had to be better.

"I would have done the same in your situation. I am capable of burning the entire world for my own people. But you know perfectly well that this is not what Sparrow wants."

Arjun sighed and shook his head. He should have been the one to sacrifice himself for the team. Unconsciously he held his leg with that bullet wound, it hurt like hell but he could walk. He just had to ignore it. A punishment for his actions.

"What is the status of Serrano?" Arjun asked.

Jade checked El Cardenal’s pulse and pupils.

"He's unconscious. He's barely breathing but he's still alive."

"Okay, I'll deal with him later." Arjun came closer. "And Sparrow?"

Jade looked at Arjun with a worried expression.

"She is alive but needs immediate medical attention. She has been shot in the stomach and some of the wounds appear serious." Jade reported standing up and holstering her gun. "Damien and Aly are with her."

"Good. They have to go immediately to the extraction point."

The burden on his shoulders eased a little. Still, Arjun couldn't relax until the entire team was safe and sound at the base.

Hurried footsteps were heard and Anna appeared.

"The explosive charges are already placed and activated." Anna reported. "Fuck me! That's El Cardinal?! What the hell happened to him?!"

"Divine justice." Arjun replied seriously without looking at her.

"Alright guys. Time to go" Lachlan informed. "I’ll carry Gustavo Serrano."

Jade nodded.

"Aly. Sparrow needs to be moved to the extraction point as soon as possible. The charges are already placed and active." Jade reported over the radio.

"Understood. We're on our way. Damien is holding Sparrow. She doesn't seem very happy." Aly answered.

Anna laughed.

"Typical Sparrow."

"Come on guys, time moves on. We have to move." Lachlan ordered, carrying Gustavo Serrano's unconscious body on his shoulders.

The team made their way through the different floors of the base. Shooting all the guards and drug traffickers who stood in his way. And finally they managed to leave the building.

"To the truck! I'm driving!" Arjun ordered, after killing the drug dealer who was driving the said vehicle.

They all went up. They left El Cardenal lying in the back seats of the truck next to Lachlan. Jade took over as co-pilot and Anna jumped into the bed truck that had a turret attached.

"Oh fuck...!" Anna cursed as she saw more Santa Blanca Cartel vehicles approaching along the roads. "More reinforcements are coming!"

"Shit!" Lachlan stuck his head out of the truck window. "We have to hurry! The explosive charges will soon explode! Pham! How much time do we have left?!"

"A minute at most!" Anna responded.

El Cardenal raised his head in confusion. It seemed that he was beginning to come to his senses. Lachlan noticed and with the butt of his rifle hit him in the back of the head again.

"Sweet dreams you piece of shit." Lachlan groaned "Where the fuck is the rest?!"

"I think I see them! Shit they have a fucking army behind them..."

"Use the turret!" Arjun ordered, starting the car.

"A pleasure!" Anna grabbed the turret with both hands and began shooting at any Narco that threatened those who were just arriving.

Damien ran out of the building carrying an unconscious Sparrow fireman's lift style, Aly ran next to him, protecting Damien as best she could.

Anna motioned for them to run in that direction.

They both jumped into the bed truck. Damien left Sparrow on the floor of the truck and joined in the firefight. Aly put pressure on Sparrow's wound. Hannah complained weakly but barely had the strength to speak.

Anna made sure everyone was in the truck. She hit the rear windshield of the truck to warn Arjun.

Arjun didn’t hesitate to step on the accelerator and speed away from there. Just then there was a series of explosions inside the building, the entire area had been filled with dust and dirt. And shortly after in one last explosion the building collapsed, like a titan that had been defeated.

Mesmerized, Anna watched the building fall. That always left a strange feeling.

"Anna, help me with this!" Aly asked, breaking Anna out of her thoughts.

Anna knelt down along with Aly.

"Sparrow doesn't look very good." Anna mentioned, worried, seeing her friend's state.

"The wound must be packed. We have to reduce the bleeding as soon as possible."

Sparrow opened her eyes and realized that Anna was there.

"I've been calling you for several days…" Hannah murmured weakly. "You didn't answer."

Anna smiled sadly, and cupped Sparrow's cheek.

"I didn't want to bore you with my dramas, birdie."

"Looks like I'll have to do this more often so I can talk to you." Sparrow smiled and closed her eyes.

Anna chuckled and shook her head.

"Don't even think about doing this again, idiot."

Aly smiled listening to the conversation between both women, but then returned her gaze to the wound.

"Anna keep Sparrow awake, don't let her fall asleep for a second." Aly ordered, ripping off a sleeve of her shirt and then tore it into strips.

"Hey hey. Hannah! wake up!" Anna lightly patted Sparrow's face. But she didn't respond. "Shit she’s not opening her eyes."

"Hit her harder."

"What? Really?"

"You heard me. Slap her like some asshole grabbed your ass without permission. Hannah's a big girl. She can take it.”

Anna smirked.

"Very well. You asked for it."

Anna raised her hand and slapped Hannah's cheek with all her might.

"Fucking hell!" Hannah's eyes snapped open.

"That's my girl! Now keep your eyes open Sparrow!" Anna exclaimed, patting Hannah's chest.

Aly began to insert the pieces of cloth into the bullet wound as a plug to reduce the bleeding. Hannah complained again.

"Guys…" Damien interrupted them. He grabbed the switch on his radio. "We got visitors. Enemy vehicles approaching. There’s heaps of ‘em."

Several armed cars appeared behind the truck, chasing them at full speed.

"Roger. Let's try to throw them off." Arjun responded over the radio.

He turned the wheel and drove down a road that wound through a very narrow valley. A dangerous road that was on the edge of a cliff between two mountains that looked like giants that wanted to pounce on them.

"Okay guys. Get ready to engage!" Lachlan ordered as he pulled his body out the car window and pointed his gun.

Jade did the same.

"Pham to the turret. Now." The Australian captain indicated.

"Rog!" She looked at Aly. "Can I leave her in your care?"

"I'll keep her awake as long as I can. Go." Aly nodded at the turret.

Anna nodded and moved right behind the turret.

"Let's teach those pieces of shit when to fucking give up!"

"Fuck yeah!" Damien responded, placing one knee on the floor of the truck and aiming his rifle.

The first enemy trucks appeared on the road. Chasing the truck at full speed.

"Contact!" Jade screamed as the drug traffickers began shooting from their vehicles.

The team soon responded with fire and heavy artillery. Making sure to keep the narcos at bay and that they won't get too close. The road was already dangerous enough without now adding a shootout.

One of the trucks from the Santa Blanca cartel came too close, becoming parallel to the team's vehicle. Arjun looked towards the window realizing that a narco was pointing a gun at him.

"Back off Captain!" Jade exclaimed.

Arjun obeyed and leaned his body back giving Jade room to shoot the driver and co-driver of the truck. Arjun swerved to the side and pushed the other truck over the cliff, causing it to fall into the void.

"They're called traffic laws for a reason, idiots!" Arjun groaned as he watched the truck crash into the bottom of the valley.

Suddenly his attention shifted to his ears. The engine of a helicopter could be heard approaching from a distance.

"Is it Mandy?!" Jade asked, trying to make her voice heard over the gunshots.

A second helicopter was heard approaching and suddenly a rocket hit the road a few meters ahead. Arjun had to make an effort to prevent the truck from overturning.

"I do not think so!" Arjun replied.

"Shit...! Anna! Grab the RPG!" Jade screamed, sticking her head out of the window.

One of the armed helicopters launched another rocket that hit the mountain wall, causing huge rocks to start falling onto the road. Arjun could dodge them with difficulty.

"Hurry up Gremlin! We have to shoot down those helicopters." Jade exclaimed watching the rocks fall dangerously close to the vehicle. Some rocks crushed the drug traffickers' trucks that were still chasing them.

Anna grabbed the RPG, dug her knee into the ground.

And she placed the rocket launcher on her shoulder.

"I only have one shot!" Anna grunted in annoyance.

"Then make sure you don't miss. And take one of those helicopters to fucking hell." Damien said as he shot at one last enemy truck.

"Fuck it." Anna pulled the trigger and the rocket was launched at full speed, hitting the tail of one of the helicopters, causing it to lose control and crash into the mountain wall in a large explosion.

"Way to go Grem!" Damien shook Anna's shoulder euphorically.

"I wouldn't celebrate victory this early, Damien. There's another helicopter to shoot down." Lachlan spoke on the radio.

"We'll use the turret." Damien grabbed the weapon with both hands and pointed it at the cockpit of the remaining helicopter. "If we hit the pilot—..."

But a rocket appeared out of nowhere, flying through the sky at high speed that collided with the remaining helicopter.

"What the fuck?!"

Some interference was heard over the Comms.

"Sorry I'm late guys." Mandy's voice appeared.

A third helicopter appeared flying between the valley walls. This one had the Operation Kingslayer symbol painted on the front.

"Mandy! You don't know how happy I am to hear your voice!" Jade exclaimed in relief over the radio.

"I'm sorry for the delay, these bastards haven't left me alone for a single moment." Mandy answered.

"How's your new toy treating you?" Arjun asked.

The helicopter that Mandy previously used had received too much damage in the last few missions. And now with the new additions to the team they needed something bigger and more armed. Luckily Pac Katari got a new helicopter for Mandy.

"Wonderful, sir. I think I'm growing fond of it." Mandy joked.

For the first time in days Arjun chuckled lightly.

"Good to know Macfie" then returned to his serious demeanor. "Proceed to extraction point B. Sparrow needs immediate medical attention."

"Roger that captain."

Finally the team managed to escape from the cartel and those facilities. As soon as they reached the extraction point, Arjun and Damien took Sparrow to the helicopter while the rest boarded.

"Aly I need you here with me. We have to find a safe route to return to the base." Mandy asked as she sat back down in the pilot's seat.

"Hannah needs help." Aly informed.

"I know."

"You're the team medic Mandy." Aly responded worriedly.

"I have to pilot the helicopter too, I will give instructions so that you can treat Sparrow's injuries or at least hold on until we get to the base." Mandy justified, understanding her friend's anxiety and concern.

"Alyssa." Arjun called her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Sparrow is going to be fine. We will do everything in our power to save her."

Aly looked at Sparrow, who was lying on the floor of the helicopter while the rest of the team tried to tend to her. She then returned her gaze to Arjun.

"Take care of finding a safe route so we can all get home." Arjun spoke softly and understandingly. "Clayton will be fine."

Aly sighed and nodded. She sat next to Mandy and with the help of the maps and her laptop she began to search for routes in the satellite images.

"I have a route."

"Good. Let's take off." Mandy answered using the controls to lift the helicopter into the air again and fly in the direction Aly was pointing.

While in the back of the Helicopter they tried to make sure Sparrow was still alive.

"Jade, I need you to put pressure here." Lachlan was giving orders. "Damien, get the first aid kit."

Both attended and obeyed orders.

Arjun knelt next to Lachlan.

"Macfie. We need instructions on how to remove the bullet." Arjun said.

"The bullet is quite close to the liver. You have to be very careful. The blood is red at the moment. That's a good sign, it means it hasn't damaged the liver yet." Mandy explained. "But if the blood comes out black. Sparrow's countdown will have slowed down significantly."

"Why?" Damien asked worriedly.

Mandy was silent for a while, thinking about how to explain it.

"The liver is in a way responsible for purifying the blood, as are the kidneys. But the liver extracts toxins and residual substances from the blood. If the liver is affected, these toxins may go into the bloodstream again in high quantities and poison her own blood." Mandy explained. "We don't know how close the bullet is to the liver, but what we do know for sure is that if Sparrow keeps moving and the wound gets bigger, it will eventually hit the organ."

"We have to remove the bullet as soon as possible." Arjun summarized.

"But if we do, we run the risk of Sparrow bleeding to death." Aly added.

"That's why we need to have a blood transfusion ready in case things get complicated. Jade, Sparrow and you share a blood group. O negative is quite unusual, you're the only one who can give her blood."

"Understood." Jade nodded.

"We have to make two groups. One will be in charge of the blood transfusion and the other will be in charge of removing the bullet and cauterization."

"The sergeants and Jade will handle the transfusion. Me and Captain Jones will handle the extraction. Understood?" Arjun ordered and everyone nodded.

Without wasting any more time, following Mandy's instructions while she piloted. One group was tasked with preparing the intravenous lines and injecting serum into Sparrow's veins. While the other group was in charge of preparing the scalpel and forceps to extract the bullet.

Meanwhile, Sparrow was barely unconscious. Blood stained the floor of the helicopter. Her vision was blurry and sounds sounded like she was underwater. For a moment she locked eyes with Aly, who was unable to look away. She had a terrified and worried expression. Sparrow wanted to raise her hand, tell her that everything was okay, and that she would get through this, like she always had. But she didn't have the strength to do it.

"Starting with the incision." Lachlan reported after lifting Sparrow's shirt enough to show the gunshot wound. It didn't look good...

He brought the scalpel closer and made a cut along the wound. Sparrow grunted and shook hard in pain.

"Hold her!" Arjun exclaimed, grabbing Sparrow by the shoulders and pinning her to the ground.

Damien did the same, pinning her legs.

"I proceed to remove the bullet."

The moment Lachlan pushed the forceps into the wound, Sparrow began to thrash about in pain again, grunting, screaming, and trying to twist her body.

"Fuck Sparrow!" Damien exclaimed, trying to keep the sergeant still.

"The head! Hold her head!" Arjun exclaimed as he saw Sparrow unconsciously hitting her head on the floor of the helicopter.

Anna quickly knelt in front of Hannah and held her head with both hands preventing her from hitting the ground once again.

"Shhh everything's going to be fine Han, it's almost out. Hold on, just a little longer." Anna tried to calm Sparrow by caressing her cheeks with her thumbs even though her hands were shaking and she was having trouble hiding her fear.

Sparrow's life was slipping through her fingers and she could only tell her that everything would be okay.

"Shit, the bullet slips too much." Lachlan was having trouble removing the bullet.

"There is too much blood." Jade murmured worriedly.

"HANNAH!" Aly jumped out of the seat and tried to get closer, she was on the verge of hysteria as she heard Sparrow's screams and grunts of pain.

"Aly no!" Damien quickly stood up and stopped her by grabbing her torso.

"Damo! She—!"

"She's not going to die!" Damien looked Aly in the eyes. He was just as scared as she was. The hands holding Aly were shaking. The thought of losing another friend in front of his eyes terrified him. It made his legs fail and he didn't know how to respond. But he had to stay strong.

Sparrow screamed as Lachlan pushed the forceps deeper into the wound.

Anna closed her eyes tightly fighting not to let the tears fall and rested her forehead against Sparrow's.

"I'm sorry birdie... I'm so sorry"

Aly tried to go to Sparrow but Damien stopped her again. Alyssa could only collapse in the sergeant's arms as she watched her friend suffer.

"The bullet is out!" Lachlan reported as soon as the bullet came out.

"We have to stop the bleeding and cauterize the wound. Now!" Mandy ordered from the pilot's seat.

"Shit she's bleeding to death."

"Hannah, don't fall asleep!"

"Jade the blood transfusion!"

"We're losing her!"

________________

The intermittent but constant beep was the first thing she heard, followed by the light passing through her eyelids. A feeling of dizziness and nausea hit her like a wave. The last thing to wake up were the pain receptors, absolutely her entire body hurt.

For a moment she thought she had returned to K2.

She opened her eyes with an enormous effort. The light bothered her terribly, she had to blink and keep her eyes squinted for a while. The first thing she saw was her body covered in bandages and lying on a medical bed.

She made another effort and looked around. It looked like a field hospital, a huge tent with several medical beds. There were other wounded people, nurses and doctors walking around. People she didn't know.

Where the fuck was she?

She looked to the side. There was a small table, on the furniture there was a glass of water and a couple of pills, there was also a patch. Her patch. It had been washed, no longer completely stained with blood, the colors could now be distinguished, but there were still traces of red in certain areas.

Her ears became accustomed to the noise, she could hear more and more things. It was even starting to get overwhelming. She heard a breathing, deep, calm. She looked the other way and found Jade, she was sleeping, her arms and head resting on Sparrow's lap.

Hannah didn't know how she couldn't notice Jade's weight on her. Maybe her body, despite the pain, was still numb.

As best she could, she stretched out her arm towards Jade, her hand trembling exaggeratedly. It seemed as if Jade had stayed there, for hours, waiting.

"I wouldn't wake her up if I were you." A familiar voice was heard. "More than half a liter of her blood runs through your veins, she’s absolutely buggered."

Hannah finally looked up and realized she had a visitor.

"Damo...?" Sparrow's voice sounded dry. Her throat hurt, she even coughed a little.

"Hey hey." Damien stood up from the chair he was sitting in and carefully brought the glass to her. "Drink up, c’mon."

Hannah obeyed and drank some water as best she could. She felt that her body absorbed that water like a sponge. How long had she gone without drinking water? And without eating?

"That's it. Slowly. It has cost us a lot to keep you alive, we don't want you to die now from choking on some water." Damien joked lightly.

Hannah nodded when she had drunk enough water. Damien put the glass away and sat back down.

"What the hell happened?" Hannah asked, resting her head on the pillow again.

"Well... I asked a mutual friend to have a little chat with the devil and tell him that your time hasn't come yet." Damien smiled.

Hannah tried to smile too.

"Did you tell Daniel to kick me out of hell?"

"I reckon Dan would’ve dragged me into hell if he realized I let you die." Damien answered.

Hannah chuckled but it made her ribs hurt more.

"I have to admit, using the defibrillator was fun but scary at the same time," a female voice said.

"Gremlin." Sparrow stretched out a hand and Anna didn't hesitate to grab it.

"Hey birdie." Anna smiled sadly.

"It's nice to see you again." Hannah replied weakly, "I wish circumstances were different."

"Shut up." Anna rolled her eyes and ended up hugging Sparrow without much force.

They separated and looked each other in the eyes. They knew each other well, they had been through many missions together, Las Almas was no exception. And Hannah could still see in Anna's eyes that what happened there still affected her deeply. There were cracks in those cheerful eyes. And although Hannah couldn't quite figure out what it was, she knew something was broken.

Anna sat in a chair next to Damien.

"You look like shit." Anna joked.

"If you ask me, I reckon she even looks better than before." Damien answered.

They both laughed and bumped fists. Hannah just rolled her eyes.

"How nice it is to have you as friends..." she said ironically.

"The best you will find." Anna smiled.

Sparrow shook his head and looked back at Jade. She was still fast asleep. Sparrow took one of her red locks and tucked it behind Jade's ear. And to think that she had only been saved because she and Jade coincidentally shared a blood type...

Death really liked to play with her.

She would have to treat Jade to breakfast or something as a thank you for saving her life. She would have to ask Ghost what food she likes.

"How long has it been?"

"Since you came back to life? About ten hours." Anna checked her watch.

"You had a good nap." Damien crossed his arms and leaned his back against the back of the chair.

"I think we all need a good nap after this." Anna stretched her arms and yawned. "Or a fucking coma. Sleeping for a few days wouldn't be bad."

"I vote for an alcohol coma." Damien answered.

Anna laughed.

"Amen brother."

Hannah watched them in silence. Happy to see them there. They were able to cross half the world just for her. She had a lot to thank them for.

She noticed that they were both wearing Operation Kingslayer patches on their vests as well.

"So you've joined the crew." Hannah pointed to the patches.

"Well considering the fucking disaster we've encountered we couldn't let you do it yourselves." Anna shrugged.

"Lachlan has spoken to Arjun. The Regiment will stay in Bolivia for a while." Damien rested both hands on the straps of his vest.

"Just you two?"

"That's all ya need." Damien smiled confidently.

"And Arjun?" Hannah asked, looking around. Wondering where her captain was.

"Taking care of El Cardenal." Damien answered. "He hasn't woken up yet."

"Woken up?"

"Oh yes. When Arjun finally saw Gustavo Serrano, he gave him the beating of his life in your honor." Damien explained.

"He looked so hot." Anna bit her lower lip.

"Annabelle Katherine Delgado Pham what in the actual fuck is wrong with you?" Damien raised an eyebrow.

"What? It's true. And you can't deny it." Anna crossed her arms.

Hannah laughed but said nothing. She just watched them talk and argue. She had really missed them.

Footsteps were heard approaching. The three looked up. Mandy and Aly walked over.

"It seems that sleeping beauty has woken up." Mandy joked.

Sparrow smiled.

"How many beers do I owe you for saving my ass again Mandy?" Sparrow asked.

"Well, enough already." Mandy walked over and quickly hugged Sparrow. "I'm glad you woke up. How are you feeling?"

"Like hammered shit."

"You look like one too." Mandy laughed.

"Ha! told ya." Damien added and earned a furtive glance from Sparrow.

Mandy rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Sparrow. "You're going to stay in bed for a few days. You're out of danger but you're still pretty weak. It'll take you a few weeks to recover. But you'll get out of it."

"Under your care I have no doubt that I will recover Doc." Hannah smiled.

Mandy did the same and patted Sparrow's shoulder.

"Rest for now. I'll inform the captains and the 141 that you've woken up."

Hannah nodded and Mandy walked out of the tent.

Sparrow turned his head and saw Aly.

"Hey…o-oh–! Wow! Haha! ouch!" Sparrow was surprised when Aly rushed into her arms. "Aly, you're going to wake Jade up. Hahaha."

Aly ignored her and hugged her tighter. Sparrow sighed smiling and returned the hug as well. Not caring about the pain that the hug caused her.

"If you scare me like this again, I'm going to tie you to a chair." Aly muttered.

Sparrow chuckled.

"Sorry."

Aly pulled away from Hannah, she had a sad smile on her face. Dark circles rested under her red, puffy eyes. Hannah felt bad for scaring her so much.

"It would have been too hard to tell Lily that she would never see her favorite aunt again."

"Hang on!" Damien intervened. "I thought I was her favorite uncle!"

"Know your place Damo." Sparrow gave him the middle finger.

Damien did the same.

Anna just laughed and shook her head. Knowing perfectly well that she was the favorite. Or maybe they all were? Lily would never confess.

Aly laughed. Their expressions seemed more relaxed than before. At least everyone had returned safely, and that eased her heart.

"Can I have a moment alone with Sparrow?"

Everyone turned their heads towards where that deep, masculine voice came from.

Arjun came closer with his hands inside his pockets. He seemed serious and not in a very good mood.

Everyone looked at each other debating what to do. In the end they got up and left except Jade, who was still sleeping peacefully, she had donated more blood to Sparrow than was allowed and that had left her completely exhausted, not to mention everything she had gone through during the mission.

"I'll come back to check on you later." Aly said goodbye, kissing Sparrow's head. "Now I have to go talk to John."

"Is Price in trouble?" Hannah raised an eyebrow.

Aly sighed, she didn't seem very happy with her husband.

"I'll tell you later."

Aly left with the rest, leaving Arjun, Jade and Sparrow alone.

"Hasn't she woken up yet?" Arjun asked, looking at Jade.

"No."

Arjun took a jacket from a chair and placed it on Jade's shoulders.

"She's been up all night with you. She wanted to make sure you were okay and the rest of the team was rested. So she stood guard." Arjun sighed and grabbed a chair and sat next to the medical bed. "She cares too much about the team and not about herself."

Sparrow nodded.

"They told me that you beat up El Cardenal for me." Sparrow tried to joke, trying to relax the atmosphere between the two of them.

"I did what had to be done Sergeant." Arjun replied, "I wasn't going to let someone else die for me. At least… not again."

Sparrow tried to decipher Arjun's eyes, there was something hidden, a story that had never been told. A deep pain that had not yet been released. But Sparrow didn't ask, it wasn't her place, at least not for now.

"I wasn't able..." Arjun had his eyes fixed on some point. "I wasn't able to cut the rope. I couldn't leave you there, pretend everything was fine and continue with the mission."

Sparrow thought for a bit about what to say.

"It was crazy, maybe one of the craziest things that I ever did." Sparrow nodded a few times. "That's why I'm glad you didn't cut the rope."

Arjun looked into her eyes for a few seconds.

"It took us too long to rescue you."

"You did what you had to do sir."

"As captain it is my duty to protect my team."

"And you have done it. We are all here, we are all alive and we have achieved our objective. We have El Cardenal and valuable information."

"I doubt Gustavo Serrano wants to talk." Arjun shook his head.

"No, El Cardenal won’t speak."

"We're still going to try. My way this time." Arjun leaned forward, resting both his elbows on his legs. "You mentioned that we have obtained valuable information. Do you have anything?"

Sparrow was slow to respond but nodded.

"Did you see him? El Sueño?" Arjun raised his head.

Sparrow nodded again.

"He spoke to you?"

"Yes but he didn't say anything important. Just threats and attempts to buy my loyalty."

"He didn't get it."

"Of course not. He can shove his money up his ass. But I learned to listen, to pretend I was unconscious at the right time."

"Did you get another name?"

"That's right."

Arjun thought a little. They hadn’t yet lost track ofEl Sueño. They still had a chance to hunt him down, and now that they had the Bolivian rebel forces they could hit harder. But for now, they had to rest and keep a low profile. At least until things calmed down a bit.

"This war isn’t over yet." Arjun stood up and patted Sparrow's shoulder. "But for now rest. We'll take care of the rest."

Arjun left, he left the tent, once again finding the base of the Bolivian rebel forces. In the distance he saw Lachlan talking to Pac Katari. Lachlan realized that Arjun had left the tent, and raised a hand indicating Paco Katari to wait a moment and walked until he reached Arjun.

"How's your sergeant?"

"She's awake, she'll be fine." Arjun replied. "Do we have any news?

"Gustavo Serrano has woken up."

Arjun sighed and cracked his neck.

"Good. There's work to do."

___________

EXTRA!

drawing made by the beautiful @alypink. I'm crying so much!! I'm in love with this drawing!! T^T <333

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hot-soop · 6 months

Text

don't let me tempt you / ch.1

pairing: angel!seokjin x angel!f.reader ⇢ au: Good Omens universe (none of the characters or the plot are mentioned so this fic can be read without knowing anything of Good Omens) ⇢ genre: forbidden romance, friends 2 lovers, comedy(?), fluff, eventual smut (not in this chapter) ⇢ summary: Seokjin is temporarily banished from Heaven and you're not all that good at paperwork. ⇢ chapter wc: 4.5k ⇢ rating: fic rating is explicit/18+ for eventual smut; chapter rating is 16 & up bc they're the equivalent of ken dolls rn, but minors please DNI anyway. This isn't for you. ⇢ chapter warnings: LOTS of religious imagery bc this is set in the Good Omens universe and there's gonna be a bunch of biblical references, but please remember that this isn't meant to be accurate. Author is an atheist. Author did next to no research on calendars that pre-date the Georgian one bc she is lazy and can't do maths. Swearing. If there's any tags you think I'm missing, please let me know - I'd hate to be the cause of any upset or discomfort <3 ⇢ a/n: thank u to my beloveds @the-boy-meets-evil and @ugh-yoongi for reading this over and thinking my babies are cute. thank u to my angel @effortandmore for your encouragement! Ur all cute too. Ily

1106 BC

Time in 1106 BC follows some kind of construct that the author has not deemed necessary to research, but if the Georgian calendar (or indeed days of the week) had been invented, the day our story begins would be in mid April, on a Tuesday, around 3pm.

The weather in Heaven is, as you would expect, perfect. The company is not.

“Sorry to bring you in here like this,” you say, as the thirteenth angel of the day takes a seat on the other side of your desk.

There’s a spiel to this. Angels have a tendency to lean towards the dramatic, so you’ve learned the ways of ‘softening the blow’, as the humans call it. Doling out God’s punishments wasn’t your preferred assignment, but it’s the role that was dropped in your lap after you quit the last - and you’re not in a position to refuse Her again. Here goes another.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but-”

“Let me guess,” the other angel interjects. “She’s demoting me?”

This is unusual. The angels know God’s wrath, but they’re usually surprised to find out when said wrath is directed toward them specifically. Not this one, he’s sitting there, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently, waiting for you to rip off the bandaid.

“Uhh. A temporary banishment actually.”

He stares at you. “It was only a little miracle.”

“Three very large miracles, I’ll have you know. We’re not supposed to be bringing people back from the dead anymore.”

“Since when?” he asks, rather like a petulant human toddler.

You frown. “Since protocol changed - didn’t you read the memo?” The angel shakes his head. “God’s decided to save those types of miracles for someone really special in-” You pause to check your watch “- a thousand years, give or take a century.”

“Special how?” The angel asks, sitting up a little straighter.

“You know we’re not told details of The Great Plan.” You flip the file shut. “Well, it seems like you know the issue at hand, and there’s little else to discuss-”

There’s a look of unease creeping over his assigned face that gives you pause. His fingertips drum on his knee. Too human for a heavenly body. “Are you alright?”

“She’s not- they’re not going to cut-”

“Oh! Goodness no,” you’re quick to reassure. “Oh no, you’d have to do something really awful for that, like, question her authority like Lucifer did.” His laugh comes out like a bark, and you’re confused because it wasn’t a joke. “No, but I am terribly sorry to say that you’re being sentenced to four-hundred years on Earth.”

He blinks twice. “Excuse me?”

“Four-hundred years - horrid, I know. But God does say the punishment must fit the deed-”

You’re interrupted again, this time by the kind of laughter that starts as disbelief and quickly has his shoulders shaking and tears rolling down his cheeks. Most unusual.

“You’re telling me I get to spend near half a century on Earth?”

“What do you mean ‘get to’?” The thought of even spending ten years in such a place sends shivers right through your wings. “You won’t be able to return to heaven at all during that time. No correspondence with anyone, unless of course we contact you first.” He’s positively glowing and you can’t understand it. “You’ll have to live amongst humans-”

He’s standing now, moving to the screen and zooming in on earth. “Can I pick where?”

You move to stand next to him. He’s zoomed in so far, you can’t quite tell where it’s supposed to be. In truth, you spend very little time looking over God’s preferred planet, choosing instead to focus on the vastness of the universe in all its glory. You prefer the stars and the galaxies and all of their colours.

“May I?”

“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Can I choose where to live? Will I have a role?”

There’s nothing like this in the training manual. No one ever has these questions. They’re too busy crying, wailing for another chance to stay in heaven, let alone look excited as this one does.

“I suppose you could,” you say slowly. “And no - there’s no role.” You wait for the penny to drop, but he doesn’t seem to get it. “Pointlessness is the point of this sentence.”

Wonder breaks out in his expression, and he turns back to the screen and zooms in on a peninsular you’ve never noticed before. “Can you drop me here?”

“Where’s here?”

“Gojoseon.”

“Why?”

“Good people.” His smile spreads wide. “Good food.”

You gasp. “You’ve consumed their provisions? You’ve eaten?”

He looks at you in shock. “You haven’t?”

Of course you flaming haven’t! Even if you could stomach it - how in heaven would you get the opportunity to dine on Earth, what with all the work piling up in your pigeonhole and the lack of angels rights to paid time off, not to mention a union?

Your expression must say it all because he laughs again and says, “Well then visit me sometime, I’ll cook for you.”

“You’re very peculiar.”

“Yes,” he says with a shrug. “I get that a lot.”

You move back over to the desk to complete the rest of the paperwork while he stands there, still looking at the map with a satisfied smile.

After a few moments, he says, “I’ll need a name if I’m to live with humans.”

You find his given name at the top of the page. Soterasiel.

“What’s wrong with the one you’ve got?”

He shrugs again. “Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue for everyone.”

“I hear John is rather popular these days,” you muse, still checking boxes. “And Abraham. Or what about Jos-”

“Seokjin.”

“Bless you.”

“No, I mean- Seokjin.” He moves to sit back down. You don’t quite like it, the way he walks, like he’s got a bravado he hasn’t done anything to earn - rather the opposite in fact, given his grievous error in judgement. “That’s my new name.”

“Oh-” You glance up at him. “It suits you.”

Seokjin beams. He’s quiet for the next few moments, but you can sense his eagerness as he watches your fingertip move down the page. When all the documents are signed, you show him over to the chute, and he peers into it.

“This is the one-way?”

You nod. “We’ll send someone to relieve you once your sentence is up.”

He steps inside without hesitation, and it’s almost too late. You've been itching with curiosity since you opened his file, so you blurt out exactly what you’re not supposed to ask.

“Why did you do it?”

Seokjin tilts his head, confused.

“Why did you bring those humans back from the dead?” you clarify.

His eyes soften. “They’re my favourites.”

There’s a pregnant pause as you regard him. You don’t understand. Favourites? Angels aren’t supposed to have favourites. Angels aren’t supposed to be anything like him. Maybe you haven’t met enough to speak on the matter.

“Come visit me, won’t you? I get the impression you’ll like it down there.”

And before you can scoff at the very idea of visiting a banished (albeit temporarily) angel on earth, the chute opens up below him and he’s gone.

It’s difficult to get back to work after all that. All day there are punishments to give out in God’s name, but thankfully they’re nothing as extreme as that one. You get through a few sanctions, several warnings filed, and a strongly worded letter to the Department of Animals to remind them to stop creating wasps (apparently earth has enough) and then (at what would usually be known as 6pm), like clockwork, Turiel enters your office.

He’s another one you can’t get a read on, but in an entirely different way. He came up the ranks quickly, and became your boss without the necessary qualifications within a single century. He’s kind of course, but he’s a Watcher, so naturally he watches everything. Being watched makes you uncomfortable.

“How is everything?”

“Wonderful, thank you.”

“What happened with the banishment this morning?”

“With Seok- Soterasiel? He took it rather well.” Turiel stares at you, and you clear your throat to fill the awkward quiet. “Seemed quite happy about it, actually.”

Turiel frowns. “That’s odd.”

“Yes, quite.”

“We should watch that one,” he says, already making his way out. “Oh- you remembered to strip his miracles, correct?”

Strip his- why in heaven would you do that? It seems horribly cruel enough just to leave them there, let alone take their ability to do anything worthwhile.

“Sorry?”

Turiel stops on the spot and turns, frown deepening further. “Tell me you saw the memo from Metatron? We’re to strip any and all banishments of their miracles going forward. Too many mishaps and too many angel turned demon that still have their powers.”

If you had any blood in your face it would surely drain. No, you haven’t seen any blasted memo. The pigeonhole is stuffed to burst and it’s something you’ve been meaning to work through, you truly have, but there’s so little time in the day and- and- heavens, he’s still staring at you. Tell him the truth. Tell him you didn’t take Seokjin’s miracles. They’d overlook one error, especially as it’s the first offence. Surely?

“No need to worry,” you hear yourself say, voice unnaturally high. “Of course I did.”

Turiel blinks, smiles with relief, and shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

For the first time in your existence, you’re tempted to curse.

879 BC

6:43pm. Patchy rain showers through til 8.

Seokjin’s home looks like nothing. A shack at best. It’s hardly worthy of the name home but you still need his sodding permission to cross the threshold, so you knock and wait, huddling as close to the door as possible to keep dry. As the rain pelts your back you bitterly wonder why angels have to wait at the threshold for permission to enter. It’s utterly beyond you, surely such a restraint could be reserved for those who are up to no good?

(You pointedly ignore the little voice saying that you are actually up to no good.)

“Oh my God,” Seokjin says when he opens the door (if it weren’t for the threshold force you’d keel over) and your nose wrinkles automatically at the blasphemy. “It’s you.”

“May I come in?” you say, too busy watching for Watchers in your peripherals to take in the sight of the angel in front of you. It would be terrible to be caught now, after the web of lies you weaved in order to get an hour off work.

“Why?” he asks, suspicion lacing his voice. “You’re not bringing me back early are you?”

“Oh heavens no,” you say, starting to feel a little desperate, pushing the wet hair from your eyes. “I forgot something in your documents, a quick signature and I’ll be off in a jiffy.”

“You forgot something?”

“Yes-”

“And you decided two hundred and twenty-seven years later was the right time to fix that?”

“Time slips away when you’re working!”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Your lot really need to unionise.”

“Shh!” you hiss. “Let me in, please?”

“Alright, alright,” he says, stepping aside. “Come on in. Take your shoes off at the door.”

“I don’t have shoes,” you say as you push past him. A little miracle as soon as you’re out of the rain has you dry and warm again. What a pity, you think, that Seokjin will have to live without these little perks for the rest of his banishment. The sympathy you feel for him catches you unawares. “What are shoes?”

Seokjin smiles. “Thought you were a watcher?”

Part Cherubim part Virtue actually, but you won’t be telling Seokjin that. That’s between you and God. You bustle past him inside the shack and you can finally relax. All protocols are being broken right now, but with the teeny tiny miracle that you performed earlier, only you and Seokjin will know about this clandestine meeting.

Seokjin’s home is much nicer on the inside. Rather homely. And clean. And it smells good. What is that smell?

“I just made some tea, would you like a cup?”

Drinking? Apparently you can’t hide your expression because Seokjin's responding smile is mirthful. “Haven’t changed much, have you?”

“I suppose not, no.”

There’s no time to dilly dally like this. If you’re not back in the office soon, there’ll be questions you won’t know how to answer without twisting the truth. An angel can’t be going around telling lies. It’s uncouth.

Seokjin busies himself at the table while you unroll the documents. The scroll is horribly long, but eventually you find the line you missed all those years ago. You cough to get his attention, and he looks up and takes the scroll from your outstretched hand.

But then he starts to read. Oh goodness gracious. You hadn’t expected that. He seemed the sort that wouldn’t get hung up on the details, that would trust an angel (one like yourself in particular) implicitly. It’s offensive, actually, that he doesn’t trust that you’re not trying to pull the wool over his eyes, even though that might be exactly what you were trying to do. Are you not trustworthy? Are you not angelic?

Seokjin frowns. Uh oh.

“You’re taking my miracles?”

“Uh-”

“Why?”

“Well- uh. It’s protocol, you see.”

Seokjin stares. The silence is palpable.

“You fucked up.”

You gasp. “Don’t curse!”

“You did!” he says, eyes wild. “You fucked up when you sent me down here!”

There’s heat creeping up your neck.

“It really doesn’t need to be such a big to-do,” you splutter. “Just sign the form, and I’ll be on my way and then you’ll be back in Heaven in no time at all!”

“But I won’t have my miracles?”

“You’ll get them back on your return!”

“What if I need them?”

“You won’t.”

“I’ve needed them a lot, actually,” Seokjin insists. “You’ve no idea how many sticky situations I’ve been in thanks to all the creatures our Heavenly Mother made!”

“Oh!” you exclaim. “Have you seen a tiger yet? Those are my favourite.”

Seokjin looks like he might slap you.

The door opens.

“Seokjinie-hyung! We’re back!”

We? Who’s we?

We are three men, one short, one tall, and one somewhere in the middle.

The room is very suddenly too small and too quiet as all of you stare at each other.

The small one’s eyes, wide and curious, dart between you and Seokjin.

“Who’s this, Seokjin hyung?”

“Uh-” you say.

“Uhh-” says Seokjin.

You can’t think of a human name. Not a single, blasted one comes to mind. Of course, humans know angels exist, but you can’t go around telling everyone who you are when you’re not exactly here on official business. Their mouths blabber too much. Word on Earth gets around faster than in Heaven.

“This is-”

“Oh my God-” the somewhere-in-the-middle one exclaims, while you grimace. “You’re that angel hyung told us about!”

You turn to glare at Seokjin, who is all of sudden very interested in the wood grain on the table. His ears are strawberry red. Strawberries were one of your ideas, you’d know that colour anywhere.

“You told them?” you say, incredulously. “What were you thinking?”

Seokjin sighs. “They’re not going to say anything.”

“Yeah!” the small one says. “Don’t worry, we’ve kept Seokijn hyung’s secret for two cent-”

He’s cut off by a loud cough from the tall one, but you’re not stupid. Humans aren’t supposed to be alive that long anymore, not since The Great Flood when God finally got sick of Noah and his bothersome family - that was one of the few memos you read.

“Seokjin-” you say slowly. He’s pointedly looking everywhere else but your face. “Are these the same humans you told me about during our first meeting?”

The small one grins. “Oh hyung, I knew you loved us more than you let on.”

Two centuries they’ve been alive - at least. Oh Goodness. You need to report it, but how could you without telling them you didn’t do your job properly.

“You don’t need to say anything to Heaven,” Seokjin says. “What they don’t know doesn’t hurt them.”

“The protocol-” you start, but you’re cut off by a groan.

“Fuck the protocol! Don’t you want to think for yourself for once? Didn’t She give us free will for a reason?”

“She gave them free will, not us!” you reason. “We’re to do as we’re told!”

“Why? What for?”

“The Great Plan!”

“The Great Plan-” he parrots in the most condescending tone. “-is supposed to be ineffable. If we knew what was in it, we wouldn’t have a choice. If I didn’t have free will, I wouldn’t have been able to turn them into vampires.”

You frown, confused. Vampires weren’t in the handbook, but then you never could keep up. “What’s a vampire?”

Seokjin swallows thickly. “Uh. Nevermind that. The point is, if this wasn’t in The Great Plan, if it wasn’t written, would I have even been able to do it?”

The thought gives you pause. He’s got a point, actually. The Archangels talk often of fate and destiny and what She wrote. No one knows the plan, of course, and it can change at Her will, but the whole point of this charade is that you’re all to trust in God’s Plan, regardless of what happens.

There’s a long moment of silence. The three men- or rather, vampires- are still just standing there watching the two of you argue.

The small one finally breaks the tension and introduces himself. “I’m Jimin,” he says.

You nod, and give your name. He repeats it, butchering the pronunciation, but of course you expected that. Humans have never quite managed to get their tongue around it. You muse for a moment if you should give yourself a more human name, like Seokjin, but your thoughts are interrupted by the large one.

“I’m Namjoon,” he says, and points to the last one, who gives a tentative wave. “This is Taehyung.”

You nod again, and start to feel a little ridiculous.

Okay, so the plan needs to be adjusted. You can’t take away Seokjin’s miracles without getting him to undo whatever he did to the human-vampires.

“How long have you all been alive?”

Namjoon glances at Seokjin, who nods. “Around three hundred years.”

“Okay,” you say. “And do you plan on dying any time soon?”

The three of them stare at you. “It’s not something we’d considered, no,” whispers Jimin.

“Right,” you say, and then turn to Seokjin. “You need to fix this, make them human again. I’ve got to go, they’ll be looking for me, but I’ll be back soon to check in on you so you’d better have done it by then.”

Seokjin’s Adam's apple bobs in his throat. It’s… somewhat pleasant to look at.

“Pleasure to meet you everyone,” you say tightly to Seokjin’s friends. “Enjoy the rest of your lives.”

You catch their confused expressions shift into something horrified before you appear back at your desk in Heaven. It leaves you befuddled. That was a perfectly pleasant first interaction with humans that are aware of your celestial-ness - you’re not quite sure what they could be so bothered about.

827 BC

Early Autumn. 8:12am. Current Earthly conditions: foggy

It’s another fifty years or so before you can catch a break long enough to get back down to Earth. The shack has improved drastically - quite the pleasant looking home in fact. There’s flower boxes on the windowsills that are covered in a light morning dew, but the plants seem hardy. Purples and yellows. Dainty looking little things. You wonder what they might be.

The door opens as you bend to smell them, and you look up to find the angel wrapped up in the largest item of clothing you’ve ever seen for something that just seems to be used for a neck. It’s ever so bright. Mismatched colours and patterns that don’t seem to line up. One end of it drags along the floor. Seokjin doesn’t appear too pleased to see you.

“What are you wearing?” you ask, amused.

“Taehyung made me a scarf.”

“It’s very big.”

Seokjin glares.

“Did you really come to ruin my life so early in the morning?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re immortal. I hardly doubt this little blip will destroy you. More like God would if you don’t pull it together.”

“I could say the same about you.”

He’s got you there. But as you hold his gaze something in the air shifts, and he reluctantly lets you in. This time you take his offer of a cup of tea. You take a tentative sip, and it warms your belly in such an unexpected way. The weight of the cup is heavy in your hand, and the warmth of it seeps into your palm. It’s rather nice.

You sit at the same table he had fifty-something years ago. There’s a few more marks in the woodwork by now.

“Shall we get it over with then?” he says. “Where do I need to sign?”

You stop his hastiness with a gentle touch to his arm. He stares at your hand.

“Did you get everything in order first?” you ask.

Seokjin coughs. “Yes, of course.”

His ears are strawberry red again. The colour really is pretty, you’re glad you chose it. You’re glad you see it in other things, even if they are the tips of this angel’s ears.

“They’re dead?”

“Not yet,” he says, lips twisting bitterly around the words. “They’re living out the rest of their lives. You might get a chance to see them, if you stay awhile. They said they’d be popping by later.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “Well, I suppose that’s something. You know, I am really sorry about that. I thought about it after my last visit, and I think I understand now why you’d want to keep your friends around for longer.”

“Feeling lonely up there?” he asks, voice gentler than usual.

“No!” You snort with (only slightly put on) derision. “Of course not. Too busy for such a thing as loneliness.”

He chuckles. “Maybe I wasn’t busy enough then.”

You ignore what feels like a thimbleful of sadness dropping into your stomach.

Seokjin does most of the talking while you drink your tea. He talks about what he does down here - cooking mostly, but also a little pottery. He’s been training under a man called Yoongi. Says he made the cups you’re holding, and you inspect them. They’re quite ugly, thick and uneven- and you’re about to say as such, but Seokjin looks proud, so you smile and tell him he did very well, and that you like the colour of the clay. You wish you could bottle the way he beams.

All too soon the tea is finished, and Seokjin signs the document. It’s done. His eyes still shine, if a little less bright now.

“What now?” he asks.

You suck in a breath. “Your miracles are in trust until your return to Heaven. Until then you can live as a human. More or less.”

His eyes snap up. “I’m still immortal, right?”

“Oh of course,” you say with a laugh. “You think they’d go through all this trouble just to risk you being eaten by a giraffe?”

“Do you know anything about Earth?” Seokjin says it like you’re an idiot. “At all?”

You’re tempted to roll your eyes. “I know plenty-”

“Name one thing,” he interrupts, crossing his arms and looking at you with an almost amused expression.

You draw your shoulders back. You’ll give him three. “It weighs five point nine-seven septillion kilograms.”

Seokjin blinks three times fast. You must’ve caught him off guard with your knowledge. Good.

“It’s made up of thirty-two point one percent iron, fifteen point one percent silic-”

“Alright,” Seokjin says, lips twisting into a small smile. “I get it. You don’t need to prove yourself.”

You grin, ever so pleased with yourself, and Seokjin laughs.

“You’re cute.”

“What?”

“Cute,” he repeats. “It’s a compliment.”

“Oh,” you say, wondering why reciting facts from the Earth’s handbook would warrant a compliment on your character. “Okay…” You look down at your mug and see it’s empty and you’re struck with a surprising pang of disappointment. The tea was really rather good, it’s something of a pity as you realise you won’t be able to make it the same back in Heaven.

“Well, I’d better get going. Paperwork to do. Miracles to take.”

“Of course,” says Seokjin, and stands to see you off. “If you visit again will you let me know in advance?”

“Why?”

“I’ll make dinner.”

You smile without thinking. “I don’t eat, Seokjin.”

“You know,” he says, in a very matter of fact tone. “Despite the fact that every time we meet you’re taking away something of mine, I’m growing quite fond of our meetings.”

You blink.

His eyes are so big and gentle and- “Let me know- okay?” he says with earnest.

“Okay,” you promise, already wondering when you could possibly get away long enough to watch Seokjin eat dinner.

“Would you like to take some flowers with you?” he asks suddenly. “I saw you smelling them.”

“Oh! Ye-” you start, and then you think better of it. So you plaster on a smile and say “No, that’s quite alright, I can whip some of my own up in no time at all.”

Seokjin nods. He looks like he’s going to say something else, but time is getting on and you’re not used to these odd goodbye rituals the humans (and this angel in particular) seem so fond of, so with a flash of a smile you’re back in Heaven. Seokjin and his lovely brown eyes remain on Earth.

Your office looks so bland in comparison to Seokjin's home.

It takes a second to notice that the cup he gave you is still in your hand, remnants of the sweet tea drying on the bottom. You briefly consider going back down, just to hand it over and say goodbye properly, but in walks Turiel to squash any ideas you have about leaving your post again.

“Great, you’re finally back,” he says, dumping a stack of files on your desk. “We’re swamped.”

“What happened?” you exclaim. You’re barely able to see him over the pile.

“Some bright spark in Organisms made a new virus. Let it loose in Greece without proper authorisation, killed half of them,” he says with a frustrated sigh. “The higher ups are fretting because one of the dead ones was supposed to be a prophet.”

Oh dear.

Turiel leaves without display. No time for pleasantries like offerings of tea and flowers up here. You sigh, dejected.

Being around Seokjin makes you wistful for things you didn’t know you wanted. You set the mug on your desk, turning it to and fro so you get a view of the prettier side- and with the smallest of miracles, there grows delicate flowers, in purple and yellow.

#bts fic #bts fanfction #seokjin x you #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts fanfic #bts seokjin #seokjin fluff #jin x you #jin x reader #thank u for reading #fic: don't let me tempt you #ksj x reader #ksj fic #ksj fluff #bee writes

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year

Text

A War of the Heart - Chapter Two | Luke Alvez x Fem! Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - things quickly come to a head between you and Luke when he forces you to talk about the past.

Category - heavy angst | smut | eventual happy ending

A/N - I watched this episode (1202 Sick Day) while I was writing this fic and I still can’t remember if Hotch was actually in it or not. So for the sake of this we will assume he was.

Content Warnings - slight argument?, swearing, build up to smut, shower sex, slightly dominant Luke, making out, mentions of masturbation, some Spencer x Reader, penetrative sex, use of “good girl”.

WC - 3.6k

Chapter Two

Present - Los Angeles, California

Hotch made a rule of not pairing you and Spencer up on cases, for obvious reasons. Most of the time you found yourself paired with Tara as the two of you worked great together. But since you and Luke had history he thought you were the best fit for him to be partnered with on this case, much to your chagrin. Of course you couldn’t make a fuss about it so silently you climbed into the passenger seat of the car while Luke got in the driver's side and the two of you headed for the crime scene.

For the better part of the journey the two of you remained silent but you knew it was only a matter of time before you needed to speak. There had been a lot of things left unsaid between the two of you and the sooner you got it out the less awkward the whole situation would be. But where would you even begin? Your mind was racing over so many things you couldn’t pick a starting point so instead you just stayed silent and stewed on them, much like you’d been doing for the last thirteen years. Eventually, it was Luke who finally broke the silence.

“So you and Reid, huh?” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as he drove.

“What was that?” You frowned at him.

“What was what?”

“The tone.” You pulled a face, turning a little in your chair.

“What tone?” Luke frowned now as he took a left turn.

“So you and Reid, huh?” You deepened your voice, doing your best Luke Alvez impersonation which made him scoff.

“Was that supposed to sound like me?”

“I think it was pretty accurate. There was definitely some judgement in your tone.”

“No judgement.” Luke shook his head.

“But…”

You saw Luke pull a face and roll his eyes, his grip tightening a little on the wheel

“But…he doesn’t seem like your type.” He shrugged.

“You don’t exactly have a well rounded knowledge of my type, Alvez.” It was hard to force yourself not to call him Sarg. You’d barely ever used his name back then.

He’d once told you hearing you call him Sarg was a massive turn on and you used it to your advantage. It drove him wild hearing that from your lips so there was no way you’d slip up and use it now.

“True. But I’m just surprised is all.”

“Admittedly I do usually have a habit of going for pretty but dumb guys.” You shot him a look, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Ouch. That’s cold.” He put one hand to his chest but he laughed all the same. “So you’ve upgraded to pretty and a genius?”

“It would seem so.” You glanced out of the window at the LA traffic that was prolonging this conversation.

You’d give anything for this to be over, to close your eyes and have it be this morning again and being introduced to your new team member and it not be Luke Alvez. Mostly because, and you would never admit this out loud even under torture, it was so unfair that age had caused Luke to grow impossibly more attractive. The occasional grey hair peppering his jet black locks and the small lines around his eyes and mouth made him look distinguished. His muscles seemed somehow more prominent and you’d be willing to bet he worked out just as much, if not more, than when you served together. He’d literally aged like a fine wine. And that was just so, so unfair.

“Pretty, smart and I can only assume jealous?” He gave you a slightly amused look to which you frowned. “Oh come on, you were so quick to say we were friends. What did you think I was going to say by the way? Oh I was her boss but we were also lovers.”

“Gross, don’t use that word.” You scowled, prompting Luke to laugh. “Spencer can be…insecure I guess. I didn’t exactly make things easy on him, I lost count of how many times he asked me out before I finally said yes. I just didn’t think it would help matters for him to know about us.”

“Right, so I have to just pretend that you and I don’t have a history so your boyfriend doesn’t feel insecure?”

“Please.”

After that the car grew silent again. You turned your attention out of the window and focused on the buildings you edged past in the slow moving traffic. The GPS display told you that you weren’t far from your destination, but how long you would sit in this jam was anyone’s guess.

It was almost fifteen minutes of silence as Luke plodded the car along and was finally able to put his foot down and drive more than five miles an hour. As the journey picked up, Luke shot you a look out of the corner of his eye, unable to contain his thoughts any longer.

“Why didn’t you call?” He mumbled, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him.

“Huh?” You turned back to him with a frown.

“Last time I saw you, you said you’d call. You never did. And as you’ll recall I gave you my number but you didn’t give me yours.”

“We had fun.” You shrugged, sighing a little. “But that was in Iraq. We weren’t going to make it in the real world. It was just…a deployment thing.”

Luke frowned at you, a hint of hurt in his eyes which you tried to ignore.

“A deployment thing?” He scoffed. “So telling me you loved me, was what? A lie? I don’t think you’re that good of an actress.”

“No offence, Alvez,” you suddenly snapped just as Luke pulled the car to a stop at your destination. “But you knew me for all of nine months. You do not know me as well as you think you do. You were scratching an itch. I was lonely and touch starved and you were…you were…”

“I was what?” He shut off the engine and turned to you, anger pooling behind his eyes.

“You were there.” You shrugged. “Let’s not pretend what happened between us was more than it was. It was just sex Alvez! Thirteen years ago! I’m with Spencer and he’s great. We have a shot at being the real deal. So you don’t get to show up here and rehash the past when that’s all it is. The past.”

You went to turn away and reach for the door handle to get out of this car that had become stifling all of a sudden but before you could, a strong hand was on your shoulder, firmly pulling you back.

Luke’s eyes were wild, looking at you like he’d only ever looked at you a handful of times before. A lump formed in your throat and you swallowed.

“I’m not going to tell your precious boyfriend about us, ok? But don’t you dare sit there and tell me everything we had was a goddamn lie! I know you, Y/N, much better than you think I do. I’m sorry if my presence has thrown you but it’s thrown me too! How was I to know you worked for the BAU? You haven’t spoken to me in eight years! I’m happy for you and Reid, but I can’t just pretend you meant nothing to me and that seeing you again isn’t opening a lot of old wounds. So don’t fucking lie to me and tell me I meant nothing to you and make me feel like it was all in my head. Because it wasn’t. You don’t get to sully my memories.”

You watched as he exited the car, throwing open his door and slamming it shut behind him, causing you to jump a little. You continued to just observe while he headed towards the crime scene tape and flashed his credentials at the beat cop manning the scene, not once turning back to you still sitting in the car.

Maybe you hadn’t been fair to him. Maybe it was excessive for you to make out he’d meant nothing to you when in reality he’d meant everything to you. The term love of my life seemed too cliche but it was probably most apt to describe your feelings towards Luke. And what scared you most, was in seeing him again all of those feelings had come rushing to the surface like they’d been there the whole time.

In truth, Luke Alvez was the only man you’d ever loved. And it was becoming clear he may be the only man you ever would love.

***

2010 - Diyala, Northeast Baghdad

“So what happens when you leave?”

Another copter rattled the walls, this one louder than the last. Had to be a Bluebird, maybe even a Blackhawk. You couldn’t give it much thought though given your current situation.

Luke had talked you into a second shower of the night although it hadn’t been all that difficult. Now as the two of you stood under the flow of water, Luke’s strong body was pressed up behind you, his hands running up and down your hips and his lips peppering kisses over your neck.

“I don’t know.” You replied. You’d done nothing but think about what your reassignment would mean for the two of you but had yet to come up with any answers.

“I love you.” He spoke against your wet skin, arms now snaking around your waist to pull you closer as his hardening cock pressed against your lower back.

“I love you too.” You breathed.

It wasn’t a sentiment the two of you shared often, so you knew he must be really worried about your reassignment to say it now. The first time Luke had confessed his feelings to you had been during sex, right before he’d come he’d mumbled those three words against your lips. Afterwards neither of you mentioned it and you’d carried on as normal.

It wasn’t until almost a month later when the two of you had been alone in the gym on your compound in the middle of a workout when he’d glanced over at you from his treadmill.

“You never said it back.”

You looked over at him with a frown from your own treadmill.

“What?”

Luke huffed out a breath, hitting a button on his machine and waiting for it to slow to a stop. You did the same and came to meet him in front of the machines. You both had sweat rolling down your faces, Luke’s wife beater clung to his solid chest with perspiration. He looked utterly delicious.

“I told you I loved you and you never said it back.” He didn’t make eye contact with you and it was the most unsure you’d ever seen him.

“I’d hoped it was implied.” You shrugged your shoulders and he finally looked up at you.

“Implied in the way you ream me any chance you get?” His lip twitched at the corner.

“I prefer the term “flirty banter” but yes.”

Luke chuckled, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was around before he stepped closer to you and cupped your jaw.

There were a handful of people who knew about your relationship, only those who needed to know. Both Reynolds and Luke’s neighbour Martinez were privy, mostly because you had to kick them out if the two of you wanted any alone time. But if the captain was to find out, it would be the end of you both. Sex between soldiers happened extremely often, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t against the rules. Especially when one of them was in a position of seniority.

“Tell me you love me, cariño.”

“And if I don’t?”

He chuckled again, eyes darkening. His hand moved from your jaw to the back of your neck, gripping it hard and pulling your head back roughly. You gasped, feeling the all too familiar heat spread between your legs and wanting him to take you right here and now.

“Tell me you love me. I won’t ask again, private.”

“Fuck,” you swallowed thickly, his fingers digging into your neck and making your knees quake. “I l-love you, Sarg. Of course I love you.”

It was the first time you’d ever said that to someone before and you’d meant it with your entire being. Since then you’d only ever said it a handful times, as had Luke. Which was why you knew exactly how he must be feeling in that moment.

“I can’t imagine doing this without you.” His breath tickled your flesh and caused you to push back against him, mostly for fear you would collapse. His hold on your waist grew stronger, holding you upright. “I wish we could just leave, go back to the states and have a chance at something real. I’d marry you tomorrow, you know? I’d give it all up and I’d marry you and buy us a nice little house in the suburbs and we’d have kids and dogs and we’d be so fucking happy.”

“But we can’t.” You felt strangely emotional, tears welling in your eyes at his words. “Because we made the decision to fight for our country. And we’re both too stubborn not to see that through.”

He turned you in his arms and you immediately noticed the tears in his own eyes. He moved you backwards until you were flush with the wet tiled wall. He pressed his body up against yours and held your face in his large hands.

“I want more than this.” His nostrils flared slightly. “This isn’t enough for me anymore.”

“Sarg,” you shook your head. “I am going to Afghanistan. I love you but I loved the army first.”

“If you go,” he choked a little as he spoke. “If you go, I don’t see a way we can be together.”

“I know.” You agreed. “But I’m not giving up everything I’ve worked so hard for, for anyone. I’m sorry but my career will always come first.”

Luke surprised you when he chuckled dryly.

“And ironically, that’s one of the things I love most about you. I would never stand in the way of your career Y/L/N, you know that.” One of his hands moved down to toy with the ring hanging around your neck wistfully.

“And that’s one of the things I love the most about you.”

He let go of your necklace, suddenly slamming his hips against yours and thrusting you back hard into the tiles, a complete one eighty from how soft he’d been just moments before. You knew well enough that Sergeant Luke Alvez hated to be vulnerable, even with you, so his change in demeanour didn’t surprise you.

He moved his hand down your body, beneath your right thigh and tugged your leg up, practically throwing it around his waist. Seconds later he roughly thrust inside of you, causing you to gasp loudly at the sensation. Luke was certainly not small and although you’d been expecting it, it didn’t make it hurt less. But god how you loved the pain.

He buried his face into your neck, unable to look at you any longer for fear he may actually cry. Luke had always been more comfortable communicating with his body, letting his thrusts tell you all the things his words couldn’t.

And at the moment, his message was loud and clear. You belonged to him and you always would. No matter what happened, a piece of you would always be owned by Luke Alvez.

***

Present - Los Angeles, California

You and Spencer had a very strict no fraternisation while on cases rule. The two of you only ever hooked up when at home, not wanting your relationship to get in the way of work.

The only problem with that was it had been a month. It had been a month since you and Spencer had been alone together, a month since the two of you had been intimate, the longest in your six month relationship. And maybe if that was the only thing, you could have waited until you were home. But it wasn’t the only factor.

Luke’s reappearance in your life had thrown you through a loop, but not only that, had left you frightfully horny. You couldn’t look at him without thinking of those long, hot Iraqi nights spent between the sheets with him. The way his fingertips felt on your skin, the way his lips felt pressing kisses all over your body.

It wasn’t fair on Spencer for you to use him for sex because you were craving your ex. But if you didn’t find yourself outside of his room that night, knocking on his door, you feared you may have ended up at Luke’s door instead.

You’d tried not to give in. You masturbated three times in a desperate need to banish Luke from your sordid thoughts. But it wasn’t enough. And so you found yourself outside of Spencer’s room, ready to break your one rule.

When he opened the door he was wearing just a pair of boxers and an old CalTech t-shirt. His hair was messy and his eyes a little bloodshot, telling you he’d been sleeping.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You chewed on your bottom lip.

“It’s ok.” He offered you a sleepy smile. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s been a month.” You shrugged, giving him your best sultry smirk. “I’ve missed you.”

You watched the way his Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed a thick lump in his throat. His eyes moved down your body, raking up and down your skimpy shorts and tank top. When they settled back on your own eyes, the tiredness had vanished.

“We’re on a case.” He croaked, his voice cracking a little.

“Exigent circumstances.” You shrugged again. “It’s been a freaking month.”

For a second, Spencer looked as though he may argue with you and send you away empty handed. He swallowed again, looking over your shoulder as if to check no one was around, before he took hold of your wrist and pulled you inside his room.

As soon as the door was closed behind you, he attacked you with his lips, the most ferocious kiss he’d ever bestowed on you. It was so much more like the way Luke always used to kiss you, that desperate and hurried passion, as opposed to the gentle way in which Spencer normally kissed you.

It wasn’t long at all before you were helping each other out of your clothes and dragging him towards the bed. Usually Spencer would spend a long time pleasuring you with his fingers or his tongue before you got to the main event but you had no patience for that tonight.

He tried to kiss down your chest, heading south down your body to eat you out, which usually you would have been all for. But not tonight. You gripped his face as his tongue swirled around your nipple and pulled him back so you could kiss him, parting your legs and hooking them over his thighs. His hard cock nestled between your legs and you grinded against him.

“Please, Spence,” you spoke against his lips. “Please just fuck me.”

“Are you sure?” He mumbled.

“Yes. Yes, it’s been too long.” You arched your back, helping him line himself up.

He pulled back from the kiss and looked down at you, questioning you with his eyes as if to make sure this was what you wanted. But you’d never been surer of anything.

Spencer nodded his head, placing his hands either side of your head on the pillow for leverage as he pressed himself between your legs. He was slow in his movements, inching his way inside of you delicately and you wanted to scream at him to fuck you harder. But you refrained and let Spencer set the pace. At least at first you did.

It was only a matter of minutes before you started thrusting up to meet him, digging your fingernails into his ass cheeks. You moved your lips to his ear and nibbled on the lobe.

“Spencer for the love of god, fuck me like you mean it.” You growled into his ear.

Spencer hissed a little at your words, surprised by your request. But he didn’t deny it, he’d never deny you anything. As if some kind of switch flipped in Spencer, he grabbed your thighs a little roughly and moved them from where they were around his waist to over his shoulders. His eyes were practically black as he looked down at you, taking hold of your hips as he began thrusting hard and fast.

You moaned so loudly the walls practically shook. You didn’t know Spencer had this in him, maybe you should have said something sooner. The way in which he roughly fucked you was so reminiscent of Luke you couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter closed and picture him on top of you. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t, but once you saw his face you couldn’t stop.

“You’re so good for me, Y/L/N. So fucking good for me.” His voice rang out in your ears. “My good fucking girl. Tell me what a good girl you are.”

“I’m your good girl, Sarg.”

You came in record time, only just biting your tongue from calling out Luke’s nickname when you did so. Spencer looked suitably proud of himself when he pulled out and rolled down next to you in the bed.

“Damn, I didn’t know I was that good.” He chuckled, pulling you close so he could kiss your forehead.

The tears pricked at your eyes as you snuggled against his chest to hide your face from him. What the hell were you playing at, thinking of Luke while Spencer fucked you? You were in over your head, Luke’s presence had fucked with your mind. It would get easier, you promised yourself it wouldn’t happen again.

Taglist -

@carolinesbookworld

#luke alvez #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x fem! reader #luke alvez x fanfic #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez smut #luke alvez angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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padfootagain · 1 year

Text

The Last Chance (I)

Chapter 1 : Meeting

Hi! Coming back with a request for my Comeback Event!! Woohoo!!! Today we are answering an anonymous request : ‘Ben Barnes & #23 for the event? 💗’. Prompt 23 was ‘wrong time to right time’.

I was actually super happy to receive this prompt for Ben, because I had already planned to write something of the kind for Ben using his acoustic video for 11:11… you’ll see what I mean when you read the third part of the fic, but it fits my plans perfectly! So, thank you so much for your request!! Although this was meant to be a one-shot, it got completely out of hand, and I had to split the fic into three parts! So, here is part 1, and you’ll get part 2 on April 29 (2023) and part 3 on May 1rst!

I hope you enjoy your fic, anon!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warning: angst… with a happy ending 😉 But for this first part, it’s rather a fluffy beginning and an angsty ending…

Summary: you and Ben have been caught in a game of hide and seek for decades now; always loving each other at the wrong time in your lives. Can this finally be the right moment for the two of you?

Word count: 4693

It’s late. It’s raining. You’re bored out of your mind, actually.

Amazing idea to follow your friends from university as they crash every bar in town… Wonderful plan. Especially when you have to wait for your roommate to go back to the campus, to finally go to bed. You check your watch. It’s almost 1am. You have an exam tomorrow at eleven. Great… So much for your good night of rest and quiet.

There’s only so much space under the porch of this bar. You’re partly soaked already.

Great…

You look inside once more, to see your friend snogging some guy. You don’t know him. He’s cute though, you guess. Black hair. Warm sweater. Lean. He blushes when your friend pulls away, you guess he’s a little shy. Maybe that’s the guy she’s been talking about, the cute one Cassie met in one of your classes… which class is it again? It has something to do with 18th century literature, you reckon, but you can’t put your finger on it.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You give the couple five more minutes before storming inside and pulling her out by the neck yourself…

You go to the bathroom for five minutes, and that’s all the time Cassie needs to meet the guy she’s trying to date and to start snogging him in public… wonderful…

Or well, maybe snogging is a bit much. Kissing is more accurate.

You decide that a cigarette is going to calm you down, so you light one up and take a long drag. The feeling of the intoxicating smoke does help. You feel yourself relaxing, but you don��t give up on your resolution to kick your roommate’s arse, and to do so rather sooner than later.

You’re taking your second drag when the door behind you opens, and you move a little to the side to let the young man walk out. He gives you a shy smile and a nod to silently thank you, and you copy his polite gesture. But instead of walking away in the street, he remains under the shelter of the porch next to you, glancing inside through the glass door. He buries his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Waiting for someone too?” you ask him, trying to be nonchalant.

Actually, you’re a little uncomfortable that a stranger shares your hiding spot. He seems nice enough though. Dark hair. Tall. He gives you a shy smile.

“Yeah, waiting for a friend. Sorry, if I’m bothering you during your cigarette break.”

“No worries. I’m waiting for my roommate to go home.”

“Looks like we both have some lousy friends,” he jokes, and you decide that you like his smile.

He accepts the cigarette that you offer him, and he lights it up with your lighter. He inhales deeply the smoke, holding it in his lungs for a few seconds, before puffing it out in a white cloud. You can’t help but notice that he’s rather handsome doing that…

“Yeah… and I have a test tomorrow morning,” you go on, looking for a distraction as the stranger raises the cigarette back to his lips. “So, I will probably murder her if she doesn’t come out soon.”

He chuckles with you.

“You’re studying at university?” he asks, deciding that doing conversation is better than merely waiting in the cold night. He’s already half-soaked because of how small this porch is and how hard it rains.

“Literature.”

“Really? Kingston too?”

“Yes…”

“I’ve never seen you in class.”

“You’re studying English as well?”

“Yeah, junior year.”

“Oh… you’re one year ahead, that’s why!”

You take the last drag off your cigarette, and rub the incandescent tip against the sole of your shoe, making the blaze die out.

“You like it so far?” he asks.

It’s only November but it’s cold already, and you can see the white puff of air escaping his lungs as he speaks; it dances in the cold air and the golden light coming from the streetlamp a few feet away, along with the one shed by the pub.

“Yeah, it’s alright. You?”

“Sure.”

You don’t really know what to say, and you look for your friend again, who is still snogging her date…

“Which one is your lousy friend?” the stranger asks, looking inside as well.

“The blond one with a tongue in her throat, at the back.”

You don’t understand why he starts laughing. It’s loud and infectious though. You like it.

“Well, looks like we share the same doom. My friend is the one with his tongue in her throat.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

You check your watch, heaving a sigh.

You look cute. It’s the first thought that comes to his mind as he looks at your annoyed expression. You’re crinkling your nose, and it’s adorable. He finds you pretty, even like this: clearly frozen, half-drenched, your hair and clothes dishevelled. Really pretty, actually…

“What a pair of morons,” you mumble under your breath. “I give them two more minutes before committing a murder.”

He can’t help but chuckle. You’re funny.

“I can be your alibi if you’d like,” he offers, making you laugh.

“Works for me.”

He’s about to speak again, ask about your name, yourself, what you like, if you’re free tomorrow night, but you’re faster than him. You blurt out a triumphant shout.

“Hallelujah! They’re standing up! We can go home!”

“A bloody miracle!”

He can’t help it. The way he’s kind of… disappointed. He takes one last drag out of his cigarette, staring at you and the way the golden light of the pub dances over your features.

A minute later and your friend and her date are finally in the street with you.

“Oh, Y/N! You haven’t met my boyfriend yet!” Cassie says, looking excited.

“Nope. Haven’t had the pleasure. But, huh… well, I’m Y/N,” you tell the dark-haired guy who’s still holding your friend’s hand.

He gives you a crooked smile, a little arrogant around the edges. He looks cute, you’ve got to admit. You do find his friend cuter though. You like the way he blushes now that all of you are cramped under the small space of the porch.

“Nice to meet, Y/N. I’m Jonathan. Oh, but… looks like you’ve met my friend already. Hmm, Cassie, this is Ben. We’re in the same year.”

He waves at her, and she greets him too. But Ben’s eyes land quickly on you again.

So… your name’s Y/N. That’s a cute name…

You’re there.

He’s been trying to see you again for the past two weeks, but couldn’t find a way to reach you. You were never around when Jonathan met Cassie, and Ben wanted to talk directly to you, instead of asking to one of your friends. He’s been about to abandon this crazy idea of his, these past couple of days. But now… here you are…

You’re sitting at a table alone in the middle of the library; focused on a large book, he recognizes the cover even from afar. Poetry. He knows, he went through the same book the previous year. He can’t help an amused smile. It’s a rough class, you’ll struggle for sure, just like everyone does.

He takes a deep breath, trying to control his quickening heartbeat and the sudden shakiness in his hands.

Damn, you make him so nervous… and he has barely talked to you at all for now.

He can feel his cheeks reddening, the heat creeping up all the way to the tip of his ears, but he can’t help it, can’t fight it. Just like he can’t fight the way his heart stops when you look up at him.

You must have felt that he was staring, that’s why your eyes lifted from the yellowed pages to settle on him. He can’t look away anymore.

You’re terribly pretty. Damn… you make him so nervous.

He’s not good at this. But he’s got to try, because after a small frown, you seem to recognize him and you’re smiling. You’re smiling, bright and warm and welcoming.

Right… it’s nothing really. Worst case scenario, you’ll simply say you’re not interested in him at all, and your two lives will go on as if this never happened.

He forces a smile on his lips, clenches his fists behind his back to help calm his nerves.

You can see he’s nervous though. He’s shy, you can tell. You read it on his lips despite the smile that takes shape there; the gesture’s small but earnest. You see it painted in red over his nose and cheeks. You find it adorable, to be honest…

“Hi, Y/N,” he speaks in a shy voice, whispering as he doesn’t want to disturb the quiet of the library.

“Hi, Ben! It’s nice to see you again, especially not at 1am under the cold rain.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you too,” he answers with a breathy chuckle, and his smile is bigger now, merrier too. “Would you mind if I sat down with you?”

“No, not at all. Please, sit down.”

You move some of your pens and papers to the side so he can sit opposite you.

“I see you’re struggling in Barrows’s class too,” he teases you, nodding towards the book.

“Yeah… this class is complicated. But then, I feel like everybody is struggling as much as I am, so it must not come from me.”

“No, I struggled a lot with it too. I can help you, if you want.”

“Oh, that would be nice of you, thank you. But I don’t want to bother you...”

“You wouldn’t be bothering me, I’m offering. I’ve got about an hour before I need to leave, gives us plenty of time.”

“Okay, then. Thank you.”

Ben struggles at first to remember precisely what was taught in the class, but it comes back quickly as you ask him questions, and the two of you spend about half an hour studying. But then, the conversation drifts away from poetry; and it’s his fault really, he’s the one who makes a hilarious joke. The words you exchange change from literature to your favourite movie, to this play he’s seen a few weeks ago, to your love for stories, to his love for acting, to your mother and her funny habits, to his brother who’s growing up too fast to his liking. He is more relaxed now, the blushing has subsided, and you find him funny. There’s something gentle and kind in his gaze, you can feel he’s a nice guy.

The more the conversation goes on, the more you notice how handsome he is, and it’s hard to control your heartbeat when he intensely stares at you with these black eyes of his. You’re the one avoiding his gaze now, not as confident as you were when he arrived.

Damn, he makes you so nervous…

He checks his watch as you try to quieten your laughter against the palm of your hand, but you fail miserably to do so, and the student at the table next to yours sends you a glare.

Ben’s eyes grow round, and he suddenly jumps on his feet.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, I’m late.”

“Oh, yes, you said you had something… I’m sorry, I didn’t check the time.”

But he shoots you a reassuring smile, and you find it infectious; the gesture spreads across your lips as well.

“It’s not that bad, don’t worry. But I need to go.”

“I hope you won’t get into too much trouble…”

“No, don’t worry. I’m just meeting up with some friends for rehearsing.”

“Rehearsing? Rehearsing what?”

He smiles, red back to colour his cheeks, and he seems to hesitate before speaking.

“I play the drums.”

You quirk an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Like… you’re any good?”

“Enough to play in the West End.”

“Wow… I have to admit I did not see this one coming.”

Ben’s standing by the table now, his bag haphazardly thrown on his shoulder, but he’s not moving yet, not even if he’s late. He doesn’t want to.

“Why? Not bad-boyish enough?” he chuckles, but you can see he’s only half-joking.

“Well, you’ve got to admit that… basic jeans and a plain blue jumper don’t really strike me as ‘drummer in a rock-band’ type of clothing,” you tease him.

“No, I guess not.”

You can’t believe you’re the one speaking the next words that pass your lips, but they still tumble out of your mouth, in a whisper so low you almost hope he doesn’t hear you.

“Despite the comfy clothes, it’s still quite sexy, though.”

But he’s heard you just fine. As proof, you’re staring at each other in silence for several seconds, both your heartbeats erratic, and your breathing a mess. Slowly, a smile curves up his lips, until he’s properly grinning.

“Well, then… if I use the argument that I’m a drummer… maybe you’ll find me interesting enough to go out with me this Friday?”

You struggle not to smile, but miserably fail. You look away to hide your reaction.

“Depends on what you have in mind, I guess.”

“Well… they’re playing When Harry Met Sally at a little cinema nearby. What do you say? The movie is at nine.”

“If we can grab a pizza before that, then I’m down for it.”

You exchange a grin.

“That could be arranged. Then… let’s say… seven thirty before your dorm?”

“How do you know where my dorm is?”

“Jonathan.”

“Oh… and Cassie?”

“Sadly, yes.”

You chuckle together, and you nod your head.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

When he leaves, you watch him walking out of the library, with his blue jeans and navy jumper too big for him, and you can’t refrain a dreamy smile.

Looks like you’ve got a date…

Your sides are painful, he makes you laugh too much.

He’s making silly voices to comment the TV show you’re watching on your tiny television screen. You’ve forgotten altogether what the show is about, Ben is too distracting. You don’t mind though. It feels good to laugh. Finals are over, summer is upon you. It’s a happy time to be alive. Night quiet, goofy boyfriend and warm clothes, with an empty pizza box discarded somewhere on the floor.

You’re cuddled into his side, with his hand on your waist and your head on his chest. It’s warm and safe in his embrace, you love the sound of his breathing against your ear, the way you shake a little as he laughs.

It’s peaceful and happy and you feel lucky to be with him.

“You’re insufferable, I can’t even watch TV with you,” you tease him; the grin on your lips and the laugh making your voice hoarse are enough to show you’re merely joking.

“What are you talking about? We are watching TV. If not, then what are we doing? Snogging? I wish…”

You playfully swat his shoulder.

“Perv!”

“You weren’t complaining last night.”

You fake outrage.

“Benjamin!”

“Yes, darling?”

You look at each other, before bursting into laughter.

“I’m joking!” he reassures you, before suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. “Unless you’re in the mood…”

You push him away, laughing some more. Actually, you push him so much he almost falls off your bed, and you have to pull him back towards you so he won’t fall.

You both gasp, before losing yourselves in an uncontrollable laughter.

It takes you two a while to finally calm down, both of you crying with laughter and struggling to breathe.

“Darling… you really will be the death of me,” says Ben, still struggling to catch his breath.

“Well, not your death… but your ticket to the hospital, probably…”

Before you can joke some more, you’re back into his arms. You don’t stop him when he pulls you close, you’re used to it. That’s his way of saying he cares.

He’s a little surprised when you kiss him. He thought you’d banter some more, he knows you like it. But instead of your playfulness, he’s met with your soft lips that taste like the sweet soda you’ve been drinking tonight. It’s not hard for him to forget about everything while you kiss him. No plans for the summer, no TV, no world outside your lips on his, your tongue teasing him, your hands in his hair, the soft fabric of your t-shirt, and the warmth of your skin as he cradles your cheek.

When you break away, you’re both out of breath.

Ben struggles to clear his throat, nose brushing against yours, eyes still closed.

“So… snogging then, huh?”

You laugh. You should speak about the summer, about what you’re going to do about your relationship in the coming months, but you don’t want to. This evening is too nice, you’re happy. Unbelievably so.

As you stare at him, getting lost in his dark eyes, you reckon that now is not the time for this serious talk. You’d rather bathe in the feeling of his embrace, of his lips upon yours. You’d rather linger for a while in this state, where you feel safe and cared for.

Instead of talking about plans, and obstacles, you choose merrier words, tender ones.

“Maybe I just love you.”

You see he’s surprised. After all, none of you have said it yet. You’re not worried though, he looks at you with too much tenderness for that.

“Well, maybe I love you too.”

You kiss while grinning, it’s messy and affectionate and it tastes of carelessness and a happiness you ought to hold onto while it lasts. It’s ephemeral, yet you wish it could last for a lifetime.

“I can’t come on Saturday.”

“Oh… okay.”

“I’m sorry, darling.”

“That’s alright, love. It’s not your fault.”

“I have an audition for a play in the West End on Monday, I need to work as much as I can.”

“Do you want me to help you with your lines? We could practice.”

“Jonathan is going to help. It’ll be easier, the scene is between two guys. Besides, you haven’t taken any class about acting this year. I don’t mean to offend you but…”

“Jonathan has more experience, I get it. No need to worry. I need a little bit more than that to be offended.”

“I know… still… it makes me feel awful. It’s the third time in a row I’m cancelling a date night…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s alright, really. I get it. You need to get a job. I’m sure it’s going to work out. I’m expecting nothing less but a leading role for you, mister.”

Your voice is teasing, and you pull on the collar of his white shirt to drop a sweet peck on his lips, his stubble tickling your skin, but none of you are fooled.

You’re disappointed. Almost mad.

He feels guilty. Almost sad.

It’s not the first time it happens, you reckon it won’t be the last. You should not take it so seriously, and yet you do. You take this too seriously, because you haven’t had a proper date in over a month. You haven’t spent more than two nights together in three weeks. You’ve barely had a full conversation in the past few days.

You’re drifting apart. You’re drifting apart because he’s got all these things to do to get a job, and you’re still a student, and you don’t live with the same rhythms anymore.

Still, you love him. You’ll make it work.

“If your audition is on Monday, what if we have a pizza and a movie on Tuesday?” you offer, hugging him close, as if you’re scared he’s going to leave too soon.

“But you have classes early in the morning on Wednesdays…”

“It’s okay. I can skip one class, it won’t kill me. Cassie will give me all her notes. It’s just this once. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’d rather spend my evening with you.”

He gives you a tender smile, taking you in his arms to hold you in a tight embrace, dropping sweet kisses on your hair.

You’re drifting apart.

Still, he loves you. He’ll make it work.

“Alright, then. Date night on Tuesday. And if I get this job, I’ll treat you to a nice restaurant. Would you like that?”

You enthusiastically nod, before burying your face in the crook of his neck.

You hold onto each other for a long time.

You’re drifting apart. It’s alright though. You’ll both make it work. You have to.

It’s funny how life works haphazardly sometimes, it would seem.

It’s random, really. The fact that you met, the fact that you crossed path again in this library, the fact that you fell in love with him, the fact that you have to say goodbye now.

Because you know already how this is going to end. You’re having a conversation, but you both already know all the arguments.

You’re flying to Dublin to get a job in a small newspaper, and he’s flying to Australia to play in a huge movie. He wants to focus on acting. You want to figure yourself out. It’s not that you don’t love him anymore, it’s just that you don’t want to sacrifice this opportunity for him. And it’s not that he has stopped loving you, it’s just that he wants to give his career a try. A reel one. And to do that, he needs to travel across the globe.

You’re barely out of college, you could feel it was coming. Ben has been working for a while now, and you know your worlds are not aligning as much anymore. Instead, they feel more like two strangers standing next to each other. They felt like an embrace before.

It’s been here for a while, the acknowledgment that this is not the right time for the two of you. You’re young, you love him but you’re not sure what you want. And he’s young, he loves you but he has dreams in his head he wants to catch before they pass out of reach. You’re lost, and he’s determined. You love him, and he loves you. But everything else in your lives have stopped matching a while ago.

He's got an opportunity, and an amazing one. And you have an opportunity as well. And the two are thousands of miles apart.

“We could give it a try,” he offers, but you can hear it in his voice that even he doesn’t believe in his own words.

“It’s never going to work,” you argue.

“No need to be so pessimistic about it.”

He reaches for your hand across the mattress. The sheets are soft under your palm. You wish you could resist him, but you can’t, and so you entwine your fingers together.

“I’m still in love with you,” Ben lets out in a shaky breath.

“I love you too. I think… I think I always will, in a way.”

You look up at the ceiling to prevent any tear from escaping. You don’t want to be crying. It would be silly. You knew it was coming, it has been there for months.

You’re not parting ways because he cheated, because he’s stopped loving you, because he’s a jerk, because he’s treating you badly...

He’s a sweetheart. He’s a nice guy. Your lives have drifted apart, that’s all. You’ve drifted apart. And it’s killing you, because you love him, but you can’t make it work.

“I don’t want this to be over,” he goes on, “but I don’t see any other way. Cause… cause it’s… we’ll never see each other, how can this work?”

“I know, Ben. I know. That’s why we need to stop this, before it goes sour. Before our love for each other becomes bitter because we’re frustrated with the distance, and your job, and mine, and our different goals… It’s alright. It’s not you. It’s not me. It’s not really our fault. We just… want different things. And no one can have everything they want in life.”

You’re right, and he knows it. Still, as he looks at you like this, on the verge of tears, with your fingers in his, with this sadness painted all over your features… he still loves you. He’s crazy about you, really.

But you’re right, and the two of you don’t want the same things. Still, he’s pretty certain he’s making the wrong choice right now. He knows he’ll regret this as soon as he’ll walk out of your bedroom, as soon as he’ll exit your dorm. He’ll regret this. But then again, he would regret not giving his career a chance too.

Which one is worse? He’s not sure. But he knows you’ve drifted apart. And it’s killing him, because he loves you, but he can’t make it work.

“I want… I want us both to be happy, you know that, right?” he says, his voice shaking. “I want… I want to give my career a try, and you want to take that job in Dublin, and I hope you know that I support you in this. I… You’re… you’ve always been fearless. And I want you to be free to do whatever you want in this life, I want you to find your own path. But above all, I want you to do whatever makes you happy. Do you understand? I support you in this, even if it means that we can’t be together, and I am not blaming you for it. It’s my fault as much as it is yours. Alright? Do you see what I mean?”

You nod, giving him a smile.

“Our lives are just… heading in opposite directions, but I really want you to be happy and brave and to do what you love most,” he repeats himself, as if to make sure you get it, as if he’s afraid you might imagine his feelings for you have changed, when they haven’t faltered at all. “Okay?”

Again, you nod, and silence settles in the room. You’re still holding hands, and you don’t want to let go, even when you speak once more.

“I don’t think we should stay friends, though,” you add, your voice shaking, but nonetheless, he doesn’t fail to recognize determination in your tone. “I mean… We still have feelings for each other. And we need to get on with our lives, get over this. And I don’t think I could get over you if we stayed in touch. So… I think it would be best if we broke up and… never saw each other again.”

He looks up at the ceiling to fight the tears that threaten to escape.

Outside, it’s raining. Late afternoon drenched with raindrops that paint strange patterns on the cold windowpanes. You haven’t turned on the light, despite the dark sky, and the light that comes in is dim, weak, almost trembling. You listen to the rain while Ben tightens his hold on your hand. You don’t want him to let go, but you know he will.

“Alright, as you wish.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. I get it. I think… I think you’re right. In the end, it will be better if we don’t stay in touch.”

He doesn’t tell you that he simply… doesn’t want to get over you. Not yet, at least. But then, when he thinks about it, he reckons it’s normal. It’ll pass. Soon, he’ll want to get over you.

It’ll pass…

He gets up all of a sudden, without warning. He lets go of your hand, like you knew he would. It hurts the same, whether you were prepared for it or not…

He puts on his coat, bends to pick up his black umbrella stranded on the floor. Outside, it’s still raining. You hear someone shouting. Cars in the distance. A whole world you’re aware of.

He walks to the door, and he doesn’t turn around one last time when he speaks again. He knows you’re looking at him, he can feel your stare on his back. He knows he won’t have the strength to look at you like that…

“Goodbye, darling.”

Before you can reply, he’s opened the door, walked out, and disappeared.

#ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x you #ben barnes x y/n #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes fic #ben barnes fanfic #ben barnes series #fanfic #fanfiction #series #writing

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thehollowwriter · 3 months

Text

Summary: A fic starring Silas, Finn's dad, in which he transcribes his life experiences because otherwise he'll probably just overblot.(this is a lore dump disguised as a story and an attempt at a new writing style tbh)

Warnings: I don't know how therapy works don't take this as an accurate depiction

Key: Regular text is for the present, italics is for flashbacks, bold is for journal entries

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤)

Lamentations Pt 0 (Prologue)

"Silas, if I may, have you ever told anyone about your experiences?"

The simple question was suspended in silence for a long moment. It was heavy and looming. Threatening

Silas Clearcove studied the calm face of his therapist for a long time. Trying to detect some sign of a joke or trick. There was none.

"No."

His response was short and sharp. Not entirely unfriendly, not exactly a warning either.

Dr Koi tapped their pen against their lips and straightened their glasses.

"Have you written it down, then? Drawn it? Told it to a seashell? I hear the young ones like doing that these days."

"No," Silas repeated, voice wavering. "No ear nor page nor... seashell apart from your own has been privy to my life. Life happens and I continue on. I try not to dwell."

Dr Koi peered at him with a pair of piercing bright green eyes. Intense. Glaring.

"Silas, it's not healthy to keep everything inside. You may consciously not think of it, but it will rot inside your subconscious and eat away at you until there's nothing left."

They gave him a soft, gentle smile. "As always, you're not obligated to do it, but I would like you to start writing down some of your experiences. It doesn't have to be anything major, just how your day went or something that annoyed you. Even if it isn't negative, it's good to write out your feelings."

Silas didn't answer at first. He continued to stare, amethyst eyes shining with something unrecognizable. His tail, dark purple in hue, coiled underneath him and bunched up tight defensively.

"May I... write about... what I've told you?" He asked, his deep voice coming out in a hoarse whisper.

"Of course you can." Dr Koi said sweetly. "If it brings you too much stress to write down, don't force yourself, okay?"

Silas' long purple hair twisted in the water as he nodded and his clawed hand came up to paw at his thick beard.

"I'll... give it a shot. Thank you, doctor."

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

Guide: Next

A/N: This was a very short introductory, but I hope it was alright nonetheless. I really struggled with the opening. This is originally meant to be one fic so sorry if chapter endings seem... odd.

Tagging: @krenenbaker @distant-velleity @cynthinesia @theleechyskrunkly @kitwasnothere @officialdaydreamer00 @elysia-nsimp @twisted-wonderland-but-gayer @whspermy-name @jaylleoo14 @cyanide-latte @boopshoops @casp1an-sea

@am0nline

@ramshacklerumble

#papa clearcove #silas clearcove #finn clearcove #octavinelle #twisted wonderland #twst oc #writing

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temunitu · 1 year

Note

Do you have any good Mike or Raph fic or anything? Could be any version but I think it would be nice to read about the other half of the turtle boys. That and I just want to read more Mikey fanfic…

here’s my list with a quick rating and summary to help you find exactly what you want! some of these are just on my reading list but i’ve heard good things about them, or they sound interesting.

this list is mostly mikey because that's my boy right there. i haven't seen many raph and mikey fics unfortunately. someday i'll complete mine.

as usual, if any of y'all have read any good fics and want to recommend some, feel free! we love and appreciate raph and mikey on this blog.

fics i have read:

(Rise Mikey) Going Under - 12/10 i was on the edge of my seat. the boys are facing a new villain and mikey gets trapped underwater. made me cry

(Rise Mikey) Sometime I Get Lost Under The Painted Sky - 12/10 post rise movie mikey tries out vent art for the trauma he got from the kraang. love the way the author describes the paintings of kraang and mikey's feelings surrounding it. sent chills up my spine.

(2003 Mikey) A Simple Act of Kindness - 10/10 very cathartic, also made me tear up. an accurate depiction of what the next battle nexus would look like and how mikey would react to losing.

(2003 Mikey) Better Genes - 9/10 i’ve been obsessed with this prompt ever since i found out about it. it’s a simple rewrite of if mikey was infected instead of don during the 2003 good genes arc. has a lot of references to 2003 and a few to 2012. the chapter “journey to the center of mikey’s mind” is beautifully described and really captures the mystic feelings 2003 has.

(2003, all) Dissection - 14/10 much needed talking through what happened after the space arc. very in character. made me chuckle AND tear up.

fics i'm reading:

(Rise F!Mikey) Mystic Hands - so far, the writing is so eloquent and rich. it's about mikey travelling back in time instead of casey jr. iconic peepaw, he travels back in time and immediately takes a nap. couldn't agree more.

(Rise F!Mikey) Too Lucky To Count - another future mikey goes back in time fic! (can you tell i have a niche interest?) so far, the writing is so gripping, talking about how each character died in the apocalypse. f!mike seems to have a dry, dark sense of humor from what i can tell which should prove hilarious.

fics on my to-read:

(Rise Mikey) Stranger Danger - rise mikey and 2012 mikey swap places! sounds like a really interesting concept.

(Rise Mikey) Portal Chaos - an au mikey (inspired by the last ronin) gets transported back in time. the author has a LOT of fun art for this one.

(2003 Mikey) Pretend That I Never Left - alternate fic where mikey is thrust into the world of horizon: zero dawn instead of reality check. i've seen the artwork and i'm excited to read this.

(2003 Raph) From Ruins - takes place in the SAINW timeline. looks exceedingly interesting, and the authors have illustrations to go with the story (can you tell i love art?)

(Rise Sunset Duo) Hold Him Tight (And Never Let Go Again) - "Mikey never realized just how much it hurt that he and Raph drifted away, until he ends up with an unconscious Raphael, trapped in a collapsing building, and unable to reach his brothers." i'm gonna cry so hard when i read this one, aren't i?

(Rise Raph) Elegy of An Older Brother - explores raph's feelings post-movie and how he's coping with no longer being leader.

(Rise Raph) Glass Heart - post movie, the others treat raph with more care after he got infected. i think it's a bunch of oneshots of raph bonding with various family members? sounds cute.

(Rise Raph) Unfavorable Ramifications - post-movie, raph dealing with the loss of his eye and getting comforted by donnie and mikey. skimmed through it and it seems in-character, like a fun read.

i'll add more whenever i come across them

#fic rec #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #sunset duo #rottmnt sunset duo #tmnt 2018 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2003 mikey #tmnt 4kids #fanfic recommendation #future mikey #rottmnt future mikey #post rottmnt movie #rottmnt movie

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cranetreegang · 1 year

Text

The Midnight Quidditch Club - Ominis x FemReader

mhm.... there's not much ominis and reader interactions in this, but there's still some. anyways, had a fun idea about there still being quidditch but it's like an underground street racing type club thing lol. but yeee, just a fun chapter

Recommended Music: Motorball and Quidditch Theme

Summary: The Fifth Year gets invited to a secret Quidditch Match. Sebastian and Ominis are eager to see how it all plays out.

Word Count: ~5,400 words

Read more of my Ominis Fics Here!

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The wooden paddle scrapes the bottom of her cauldron while she watches the color change to a pleasant shade of green. She’s about to write in her journal when the hairs on her neck stand on end.

Again.

She subtly looks around to find the source of her unease. Everyone is focused on their potion, or chatting with one another. She’s about to turn her gaze back on her cauldron when she catches the eyes of someone from across the room. Imelda is staring right back at her. Glaring, is more accurate as Imelda’s lip curls into a sneer. She frowns at Imelda’s hostility before focusing back on her potion.

“Everything alright?” Ominis asks while stirring his brew.

“I don’t know. Imelda’s staring daggers into me right now.” She checks over Ominis’ potion, satisfied with the color and consistency. “Your draught is nearly green. You’ll need to add the Mandrake soon.”

He nods while his hand feels for the Stewed Mandrake on the table, “Any idea why you’ve earned her ire? Contrary to most, she usually doesn’t harbor such hate to just anyone.”

“I have a suspicion it’s because I beat her flying time.” She glances over her shoulder to Imelda, who is still glaring.

Ominis laughs, “Oh, so you’re the one she’s been talking about.”

She whips her head over to Ominis, “She’s been talking about me? What’s she saying?”

He wafts the potion up to his nose then adds the Mandrake, making the potion sizzle, “Just that she’s wanting to get back at the ‘fledgling who thinks they’re better than everyone else’. You should be flattered, she speaks of you often. I’m surprised you haven’t heard.”

She turns her gaze back to Imelda, “No. I haven’t heard.”

She watches Imelda and soon Imelda’s dark eyes are staring right back. Imelda’s eyes narrow then she smirks with amusement dancing across her features.

“Something’s burning.” Ominis states.

The Fifth Year whips back around and she gasps at her potion boiling over. She gets it back under control, but her potion is all but burnt or smoke. She catches Ominis smirking to himself out of the corner of her eye.

“Go ahead. Say it. I know you want to.” She says.

He shrugs, “Whatever do you mean? You are the potion master after all. I can only deduce that burning the draught is the required next step.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” She nudges into his side and he smiles. His fingers graze over hers and he gives her a soft press as they go by.

“You can use some of mine. You practically made it after all.” He whispers.

“Thank you.” She whispers back.

They finish up their Restorative Draught and clean up their station with only a minor lecture from Professor Sharp about the quantity of their potion being ‘lacking’. She ignores Imelda’s stares and she’s thankful when Imelda leaves the classroom almost immediately.

“Hopefully, whatever is upsetting Imelda, will pass.” She says to Ominis as they start to leave.

“Doubtful. Be on your guard.” Ominis warns.

“Can’t get enough of me?” Imelda calls just as Ominis and the Fifth Year walk out of the class. Imelda pushes off the wall she was leaning on by the classroom entrance and saunters over to them.

“You were the one staring. I can assume you have something you wish to say.” She counters.

Imelda smirks, “I would. Alone.”

Ominis frowns, but eases when he feels her pat his arm.

“I’ll meet you and Sebastian at the Astronomy Wing.” She whispers.

“Very well. We’ll save you a spot.” He nods, giving her a parting smile as he leaves.

She crosses her arms as soon as Ominis is out of sight, “Well? What is it, Imelda?”

Imelda motions over to a more secluded corner away from the classroom’s entrance.

Imelda glances around once they’re alone then whispers, “I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” She questions.

Imelda sneers, “Since you’ve gotten so cocky on a broom. Why don’t you really put it to the test?”

The Fifth Year cranes her head, “What did you have in mind? Another race?”

Imelda snorts, “No. This will be far more demanding of actual skill.” She glances around again and speaks in a low voice, “A couple of us like to get together after curfew over at the Quidditch pitch. Keep our skills sharp.”

She frowns, “Are you suggesting a match? But I’ve never played before.”

“Scared you’re gonna lose?” Imelda snickers.

She rolls her eyes with a slight grin, “When is this match?”

“Go to the Pitch at Midnight tonight. Don’t be late.” Imelda saunters away and says over her shoulder, “Bring a friend. Or don’t, if you’re too scared for such public humiliation.”

The Fifth Year hums in thought while she heads towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classrooms. She finds Ominis and Sebastian already in a heated conversation in one of the lounges. Ominis turns his head towards her and smiles as she approaches.

“Ah, so what did Imelda want?”

She sits next to Ominis on the plush couch and his hand wraps around hers.

“She wants to put my skills on the broom to a real test.”

“A real test? What in Merlin’s name does that mean?” Sebastian wonders.

She looks around to ensure no one is listening in, then she says in a low voice, “She wants me to meet her out on the Quidditch field. Tonight at Midnight.”

“The pitch?” Sebastian’s eyes widen, “Wait. You got invited? You seriously got an invite?”

She furrows her brows, “Invite?”

“Yes,” Ominis grins, “There’s been rumors of Imelda and a few others playing Quidditch, but not very many are invited to participate, or spectate. Makes it all the more tantalizing when you do get such an exclusive offer to join.”

“So, you’re going right?” Sebastian questions.

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I’ve never played Quidditch before. And all Imelda wants to do is embarrass me in front of everyone.”

“Oh, come on!” Sebastian whines, “It’ll be fun! And you’ll pick it up fast. I’ll give you the rundown and you’ll be a master by tonight.”

She looks over to Ominis, “What do you think?”

Ominis squeezes her hand, “I believe that’s up to you. But, it could be fun.”

She hums in thought, “I might go. If you both come with me.”

“Deal!” Sebastian grins.

Ominis nods, “Very well. I’ll be looking forward to you knocking Imelda off her broom.”

She giggles, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Sebastian leans forward, pulling out a piece of paper with scrawled notes, and draws out an uneven Quidditch field, “So, Quidditch is easy enough to understand. Each team has seven players. Three Chasers. Two Beaters. One Keeper and a Seeker.”

=======================================

She finds Sebastian and Ominis at the fountain by the time she sneaks out.

“Ready for this?” Sebastian’s hot breath puffs out in a cloud in front of him. His nose and cheeks are already red while Ominis is a notable pink. Snowflakes gently flutter down and she’s thankful for the lack of a wind chill tonight.

She rubs her cold hands together, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“This should be fun.” Ominis places his arm over her shoulder, bringing her into his deceivingly warm body.

They follow the other footfalls through the snow leading to the dark Quidditch stadium. They can hear the quiet whispering and murmurings of several people as they walk onto the snow-covered field.

“So much for this being an exclusive club.” Ominis whispers into her ear while he releases her from his warm protection.

There’s a small crowd all gathered around Imelda. The Fifth Year recognizes some of the faces from Crossed Wands, spotting Lucan in the mix talking animatedly with Leander.

“Indeed.” She whispers back to Ominis.

“Ah, was wondering if you’d actually show your face.” Imelda smirks with her arms crossed.

The Fifth Year approaches Imelda with Sebastian and Ominis on either side of her.

“I thought this was supposed to be a secret match.” She muses.

“Word got around you’d be going against Imelda!” Lucan interjects with a beaming smile. “Why, I couldn’t believe you’d actually go up against her! Everyone’s excited to see how the Undefeated Duelist Champion will fare against Slytherin’s own Quidditch Captain!”

“Are you to be playing with us as well, Lucan?” The Fifth Year grins at the boy.

He shakes his head, his curls bouncing, “No. I’m just here to keep score. And to tell the others what a legend match they missed.”

“Looks like you already have a few fans.” Imelda drawls as she puts her hand on her hip, “We’ll have just enough decent flyers to have two full teams. If Sebastian decides to join us, that is.”

All eyes land on Sebastian who’s wide smile speaks for him.

“And miss a chance to get the team back together? Count me in.”

“Great. It’ll be good to have my Beater at my side again.” Imelda states then moves off to the side towards two crates. “I’ll pick the teams.” She opens one of the crates and inside are several pairs of goggles. Imelda motions towards the goggles, “Enchanted to help you see in the dark. No lights. No loud noises. We don’t need the professors coming out to investigate. Now, everyone grab a pair.”

Sebastian snags the Fifth Year a pair and tosses them her way. She examines the goggles, looking just like regular Quidditch goggles, before she puts them on. The whole field is illuminated and she’s amazed by how well the charm works. Imelda opens the second crate which contains the Quaffle, two Blugers battling to go, and the Golden Snitch.

“How did you get this?” The Fifth Year wonders.

“We snuck into Madam Kogawa’s office. She never remembers to lock the supply closet.” Priscilla chimes as she hands out bright red robes to the Fifth Year and a few others.

“No snitch.” Imelda states while she passes out the beater’s bats to Sebastian, Garreth, Eric, and Charlotte.

“No snitch?! You can’t be serious.” Leander huffs.

“I am serious. We don’t have time to wait around for someone to catch the thing. First team to score ten goals, wins.” Imelda smirks then motions with her head, “My team, over here. Those with the red robes are with our new Fifth Year, over there. Everyone else, off the field and get to the sidelines.”

Priscilla, Violet, Garreth, Andrew, and Lawrence follow after Imelda.

The Fifth Year turns to Ominis, who gives her a reassuring squeeze of her hand.

“Kiss for goodluck?” She whispers to him while she messes with his scarf.

Ominis smiles, “Of course. But, I doubt you’ll need it.”

“Do I get a kiss too?” Sebastian grins as he drapes himself on both Ominis and the Fifth Year.

“Go away, Sebastian.” Ominis scoffs, shoving Sebastian away.

“Fine, fine. Be that way.” Sebastian chuckles and turns to join Imelda and his team. Ominis smirks, aiming his wand towards Sebastian. With the flick of his wrist, Ominis casts a quick spell and Sebastain trips, nearly going head first into the snow.

Sebastian looks back and exclaims, “Hey! Not funny, Ominis.”

Her and Ominis giggle while Sebastian grumbles under his breath.

Ominis places a quick kiss on her cheek and whispers, “Good luck, love.”

She watches him as he joins the other spectators. A decent crowd and she recognizes several faces. Samantha, Everett and Duncan all chatting amongst themselves. It’s surprising to see Grace here since her shivering makes it seem like she’s ready to leave. She even spies Hector in one of the towers on lookout duty.

The remaining six are her fellow teammates as they walk towards her with red cloaks in their hands. Nellie is first to greet her with a beaming smile.

“Good to have you with us.” Nellie pats the Fifth Year on the back.

“Indeed. We’ll need all the help we can get.” Lenora sighs.

They all don their red cloaks and the Fifth Year takes a good look at the people she’s going to be playing with.

“I must admit, I’m surprised to see some of you here.” She comments while glancing at Lenora.

“Well, loads of us love playing. Just some of us aren’t able to officially join the Quidditch team. Not for lack of trying.” Leander grumbles.

The Fifth Year’s brows furrow while she glances across the way to where Imelda is. She notices Imelda has mostly fellow Slytherins and they’re all excitedly chatting with each other. The Fifth Year swears most of them are on the Quidditch team together. At least, according to Sebastian.

“How many haven’t played before?” She wonders.

Lenora, Leander, and Charlotte raise their hands with sheepish smiles.

“With me, that makes four.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Very even teams, Imelda.”

“Cheer up,” Nellie says, “We just need to work together to beat them. Too many captains, not enough chasers on their team, if you catch my meaning.”

The Fifth Year nods, “I agree. So, who wants to go where?”

Charlotte and Eric both are reluctant to give up their beater bats. Lenora elects herself to be a Keeper. Leaving Nellie, Constance, Leander, and the Fifth Year all to be Chasers.

They all get on their brooms and fly up to meet the opposing team. With Sebastian and Garreth as Beaters and Violet a Keeper, it leaves Imelda, Priscilla, Andrew, and Lawrence as Chasers.

Sebastian flies closer to her with a beaming smile, “Excited?”

She nods, “Don’t know how well this will go. I have a feeling this may be a rather quick match.”

“I know. Wish we were on the same team, considering this is your first time.” Sebastian points his bat towards her, “I promise to go easy on ya. Won’t send all the Bludgers your way. Otherwise, Ominis won’t let me hear the end of it.”

“How kind of you.” She smirks, sparing a glance to where Ominis is. Ominis is sat close to Lucan in the Ravenclaw bleachers at the center field. His head is turned towards Lucan while Lucan babbles about the players all lining up to start the match.

Her and Sebastian watch below at Everett and Samantha taking the Quidditch box to the barely outlined circle in the middle of the field. She looks around the pitch and notes how quiet it is. She always imagined this place to be roaring with cheers and jeers alike. Instead, it’s silent save for the few conversations being had.

“Good luck.” Sebastian says while he takes position with his team across from her.

“Good luck.” She calls after him then finds a spot opposite of Imelda.

There’s a fire in Imelda's eyes which rivals any of the other players. She sucks in a sharp, freezing breath while adjusting her grip on her broom. Butterflies flutter in her stomach while Everett opens the chest. He releases the two Bludgers, which shoot off into two separate directions, and he grabs the Quaffle.

“Let the match… begin!” She can see his beaming grin as he launches the Quaffle into the air.

As the Quaffle drops, Imelda doesn’t hesitate to launch forward and snatch the red ball from the air. The Fifth year is frozen in awe as Imelda flies straight for the goal with Priscilla and Lawrence guarding either side of her. In the blink of an eye, Imelda launches the Quaffle right past Lenora into the center goal.

“Ten points to Imelda!” Lucan’s voice reaches the Fifth Year’s ears.

Imelda flies by with a smirk aimed right at the Fifth Year. She watches Imelda’s team get into formation before she turns back to her own scattered team. Charlotte and Eric are doing their best to swat away the Bludgers, but Sebastian is the only one to actually direct the Bludger as it speeds right towards Leander. Lenora chunks the Quaffle and Nellie swoops in to grab it. Nellie takes off and the Fifth Year joins in to help.

“Cover me!” Nellie shouts just before diving below Priscilla’s arm.

The Fifth year swoops after Nellie, craning her head over to find Leander trying to keep up and Andrew hot on Nellie’s tail. Nellie looks up to the Fifth Year as they both fly next to each other.

Nellie throws the ball, but Imelda shoots between them and snatches the Quaffle. Imelda is already at the goal and slamming it past Lenora by the time her and Nellie turn around to chase Imelda. The Fifth Year grimaces as Lucan shouts the score. Lenora throws the Quaffle to Leander, who makes it half way down the pitch before he’s slammed by Pricilla and Andrew after dodging a Bludger aimed at his head.

The Quaffle falls from his grasp and before Nellie or Constance can retrieve it, Lawrence gets to it first. He passes the Quaffle to Imelda and she scores once again.

“Yet another goal for Imelda! They’re unstoppable with the score three to nothing!” Lucan shouts.

The Fifth Year flies over to Lenora, a plan forming in her mind. Lenora tosses her the Quaffle. She stares down the other Chasers already coming towards her. She puts the ball under her arm then takes off. She zips past Imelda’s grab and ducks under Lawrence and Priscilla’s reach. The Fifth Year sees the whites of Andrew’s wide eyes as she heads right for him. He turns out of the way and she keeps going to the goal where the Keeper, Violet, prepares to stop her throw at the center goal. The Fifth Year raises up the Quaffle and before she tosses it through the center post, she turns sharply to the right and slams it through the goal.

“Amazing! They’re back in the game, but they have to catch up to Imelda’s strong lead!” Lucan exclaims.

Ominis grins, clapping along with the rest of the spectators.

The Fifth Year is quick to fly back to her side of the pitch just as Imelda is tossed the Quaffle. Nellie joins the Fifth Year, and without any words exchanged, they take either side of Imelda. Bludgers swoosh by their heads while Nellie and the Fifth Year drive Imelda to veer off her path towards the goal. Andrew flies overhead, calling for Imelda to pass to him. The Fifth Year backs off long enough to leave an opening for Imelda. As soon as the Quaffle is in the air, the Fifth year strikes.

She snatches the Quaffle, shoving past Andrew in the process, and she speeds towards the opposite goal posts. A Bludger is hit right for her and she twists her body in time to feel the air whoosh past from the screaming ball of metal. She hears the curses from Garreth above her followed by the rapidly approaching duo of Priscilla and Imelda. The Fifth Year finds Constance amongst the buzzing players. She catches Constance’s gaze and the Fifth Year motions for Constance to be ready. Constance angles herself and as the Fifth Year flies by, she tosses the Quaffle to Constance.

Constance doesn’t hesitate to make the final dive to the goal and scores a point with a celebratory howl.

“This game is getting interesting now! The gap is closing, at three to two, and we just might have a night of fun!” Lucan cheers.

Imelda glares at the Fifth Year with obvious scorn.

“So, getting you the Quaffle seems our best bet.” Nellie states between heavy breaths.

The Fifth Year nods, “If we keep playing like this, we might stand a chance.”

Ominis listens keenly to Lucan and Everett as they describe the game.

“Another point to Imelda!” Everett claps.

“A great save by Violet with the classic Starfish and Stick!” Lucan cheers.

“Nellie coming through with a spiral and a fast ball straight to Leander, who fumbles! Oh no!” Lucan gasps.

“That’s the third time this match! When will they learn.” Everett mocks.

“Lenora with a brave Double Eight Loop and an even more impressive recovery by our Duelist Champion! She’s speeding down the pitch. Sebastian and Garreth are lining up for a play with Lawrence and Priscilla. Wow! They are not holding back and she is taking their Body Blow! A Bludger is heading straight for her. And… She dodges! With a Sloth Grip Roll and scores! Amazing!”

“With the score eight to eight, we’re coming into a close!” Everett states.

The Fifth Year’s arms and sides feel the pounding they’ve been getting all match, but she can’t deny the way her blood is singing in her veins from the excitement. She prepares herself and chases after Priscilla with the Quaffle. Nellie cuts in front of Priscilla, driving Priscilla straight into the Fifth Year. The Fifth Year slaps the ball from Priscilla’s grasp and the Quaffle falls.

Constance swoops underneath and grabs the Quaffle. A grin forms on the Fifth Year’s face as she goes to cover Constance’s run to the goal. Constance ducks under a Bludger then twirls to the left. She banks from Andrew’s crash course then looks to the Fifth Year for help. The Fifth Year gets Constance’s curveball then finishes the run with a shot right through Violet’s fingers and into the goal.

The Fifth Year can’t stop her smile as she joins her other Chasers. She watches Imelda gather her team together, catching bits and pieces of her yelling. They disperse and start their drive towards the goal. Nellie covers Andrew, Leander tries to keep up with Priscilla, Constance stays near the goal, while the Fifth Year guns straight for Imelda.

The Fifth Year follows Imelda’s gaze as she looks to pass to Priscilla. The Fifth Year can’t help the eagerness creeping in as she gets ready to intercept the pass. Imelda begins to wind up and the Fifth Year starts her dive to be right in the line of Imelda’s pass. Imelda brakes at the last minute and the Fifth Year shoots past. She looks up to Imelda with shock. The whizzing Bludger catches her attention just as it slams into her.

She gasps at the pain shooting up her shoulder, making her lose hold of her broom. She’s careening to the ground and she observes how her body isn’t falling nearly as fast as her other freefall incident. She crashes to the snowy ground with a grunt, her head spinning. She wheezes and writhes on the field. She clutches her arm while trying to sit up. She watches in time to see Imelda slam into Lenora, knocking Lenora through the goal and she falls to the ground, landing in the sand. Imelda tosses the Quaffle through the goal and flies off with a triumphant fist raised in the air.

“And just like that, the score is tied nine to nine. With two players possibly out of the game!” Lucan shakes his head with a grimace.

Ominis clutches onto the railing, willing for her to get back up.

“Are you alright!” Sebastian lands next to the Fifth Year, his brows pinching together as he helps her to stand.

“I’m alright.” She winces when she reaches down to grab her broom. “Well, maybe a bit sore.”

Sebastian grimaces, his mouth parting to speak.

“Time out!” Nellie screams, making Imelda laugh.

“Sure. But, if they can’t come back to play, that’s too bad. And no new Keepers allowed, remember.” Imelda states before flying to convene with her team.

The Fifth Year gets back on her broom and Sebastian does the same. She gives him a parting nod and smile before she flies over to Lenora.

“Lenora! Are you alright?” The Fifth Year kneels beside her fallen teammate just as the rest of the team lands.

Lenora groans in response, slowly rising from her stupor and clutching her head.

“Do you think you’ll be able to still play?” Leander questions.

“We need you, Lenora.” Charlotte whines. “We’re so close to winning.”

Lenora’s eyes are swimming as she looks between all their awaiting faces. She wobbles in place and mumbles out a slurred, ‘yes’.

The Fifth Year frowns, “She can’t even sit straight, let alone fly.”

“And what about you?” Nellie questions, motioning towards the arm she’s holding.

“I can fly. But I doubt I’ll be able to throw a Quaffle.”

The Fifth Year looks over to Imelda’s team. Sebastian catches her eye and she remembers of a play he talked about during one of the World Cups.

“I may have an idea.” She turns back to her team. “It’s risky. But it could work. Especially since we don’t have a Keeper.”

“We don’t have much to lose. I’m surprised we haven’t lost already.” Nellie smirks.

“Agreed. Whatever plan you have is bound to work.” Eric grins while putting his beater’s bat behind his neck.

“The Beaters will need to keep the Bludgers going in the middle of the pitch. Nellie and Constance, you’ll need to back off while I have the Quaffle.”

“But, they’re swarming you. And you said so yourself, you’re not in the best state to be trying to score.” Nellie says.

The Fifth Year nods, “I know. It’s because they’re swarming me, we’ll use that to our advantage. Because I’m going to give the Quaffle to you, Leander.”

“Me?!” Leander squeaks.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Eric grimaces. “No offense, Leander. You just haven’t had much luck with keeping the Quaffle.”

“Which is why he’ll be perfect. You’ll be by our goal. Once I’m making my way to you, you’ll meet underneath me and I’m going to drop you the Quaffle as I pass by. You’ll make the run to the goal while Constance and Nellie have your back and Charlotte and Eric covering you. The goal will be a straight shot.” The Fifth Year can see the doubt lacing Leander’s wide eyes. She places a hand on his shoulder, “You can do this Leander. We’re counting on you.”

Leander gulps, but nods, “I can do this.”

Nellie spares a concerned glance to the Fifth Year then to Leander.

She sighs, “Not the worst plan. But, I guess we’ll see what happens.”

They help Lenora into the stands then take their positions, with the Fifth Year holding the Quaffle. She ignores the jolts of pain shooting up her arm and clutches the Quaffle close to her side. She sucks in a sharp breath while Imelda and her team wait eagerly for her next move. The Fifth Year leans forward on her broom and she takes off.

Blurs of arms and hands reaching out shoot past the Fifth Year as she rockets by. She yanks her broom up and aims for the heavens. Her stomach plummets as she leans back and dives through Imelda and Pricilla’s reach. She banks to the right and dips below the stadium. She zips through the rafters while Andrew flies above her looking for a way in and Lawrence is swiping at the back of her broom. The beams create an oscillating whoosh while her heart skips a beat when she feels her whipping robe brush the pylons as she passes.

The Fifth Year launches out of the rafters and heads right for her own goal. She glances behind her and the field is laid clear. She aims straight for Leander and she’s pleased to find him coming towards her. She twists herself and hangs off her broom with one hand and one leg, then she drops the Quaffle right into his outstretched arms. A force collides into the Fifth Year’s back and she’s tackled fully off her broom.

She sees flashes of brown hair and green robes as they fall, landing on the ground with a gasp. She looks over to find Imelda writhing on the ground with her. She turns her attention over to Leander as he makes his flight to the goal. She watches with bated breath as Bludgers barely miss Leander. Priscilla and Andrew are about to catch up to Leander, but Constance and Nellie intercept to block their attack.

Leander approaches the goal and rears up to throw the Quaffle. Violet dives off her broom towards the lower right goal post where Leander is aiming. Just as Violet reaches for it, Leander clutches the Quaffle to his chest and turns to the center post. He aims then launches the Quaffle.

The whole stadium takes a breath as the Quaffle spins in the air. The Quaffle flies true right through the center goal and the small crowd lets out a loud cheer. The Fifth Year laughs, clapping and hollering as well. Imelda punches the snow with curses muttering under her breath.

Leander is swarmed by Nellie, Constance, Garreth, Eric, Lawrence, and Charlotte, all screaming his name in excitement.

“Unbelievable! The Red Robed Underdogs have won it! Amazing match!” Lucan shouts with glee.

Everett nods in agreement, “Couldn’t have agreed more. I hope there’s a rematch! Imelda is certain to not let this slide.”

The students all rush onto the field while everyone lands to meet them. Everyone gathers around Leander, picking him up and placing him on their shoulders. The Fifth Year grins at the celebration. She stands then offers her hand to Imelda. Imelda sneers at the offer, but rolls her eyes as she takes the Fifth Year’s hand.

“Good game.” The Fifth Year says with a smile. “I had a load of fun.”

Imelda scoffs, “Just cause you got lucky, doesn’t mean you’re actually any good. Best two out of three.”

She laughs while shaking her hand with Imelda’s, “Deal.”

“And don’t think you can pull any more of those sneaky World Cup plays on me again, fledgling.” Imelda has a hint of smile tucked away under her scowl. She turns on her heel to meet with Priscilla and Grace, who are on the outskirts of the rowdy students.

“Are you hurt?” Ominis asks as he rushes up to her. “From what Lucan was saying, you took quite a beating out there.”

“Nothing a bit of Wiggenweld and a mug of warm Butterbeer can’t fix.” She hisses when she tries to lift her arm, making Ominis grimace.

“You’re reckless, you know that?” He sighs while he grabs her hand. Snow dusts his hair and shoulders. She’s surprised he’s still so warm to the touch.

“Just a bit. But you love it.” She teases.

Ominis’ cheeks warm and he shakes his head with a scoff.

“Not bad.” Sebastian says while tossing the beater’s bat into the Quidditch chest. “Sorry about that Bludger business. Was supposed to just miss you, but my aim was a bit off.

“Your aim was off?” She questions with a raised brow.

“Well, I may have gotten too competitive for my own good.” Sebastian admits with a devilish twinkle in his eye.

“You were the one to Bludger her?” Ominis scowls.

“I said I’m sorry! I truly didn’t mean to.” Sebastian’s eyes widen as Ominis looks ready to jinx him.

“It’s alright. I would’ve been disappointed if you didn’t at least try, Sebastian.” She winks, making him chuckle.

“See! All is well.” Sebastian puts his arms around both of their necks. “What say you two on continuing this party at the Three Broomsticks? I believe I heard someone saying they needed a Butterbeer, or two.”

“Losers buy first round?” She grins.

Ominis nods, “I like the sounds of that.”

“You two are despicable. Kicking a poor boy while he’s down.” Sebastian chuckles, making the other two do the same.

“Professors! Professors are coming!” Hector shouts from the tower.

The whole pitch becomes alive with students hopping on their brooms and shooting off into the night. She grabs Ominis’ hand and takes him over to her broom.

“Another exciting flight?” Ominis smirks while wrapping his arms around her waist.

“You would only be so lucky.” She takes off with Sebastian right behind her.

Her and Sebastian can see the lights of three wands as they head towards the pitch. They can make out the shouting from Mister Moon below saying they must all return, or face detention and then expulsion.

“Do you think they’re serious?” She wonders as they turn towards Hogsmead.

“Probably. Which is why we should hide out until morning and wait for this to all blow over.” Sebastian smirks.

“Agreed.” Ominis chimes in. “Although, I believe we do have an exam in the morning.”

A collective groan is shared as they change course back to Hogwarts. They land in the Transfiguration Courtyard and rush to hide in the Undercroft, where they envision warm Butterbeers and a hot meal until morning.

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

AN: brosephs, this was so hard to write a no named fifth year. like 'she' and 'her' are only good when SHE is the only girl in the scene lol. at this point, Fifth might be her first name and Year is her last name.

and i had to make a whole ass spreadsheet to figure out 1) WHO would be at this secret quidditch match and 2) WHO would actually be a player

I was going through the ENTIRE list of hogwarts legacy students to ensure i got the right cast. so silly i know lol

and did i take a line straight outta the first movie... you bet your sweet bippy i did. AND I"LL DO IT AGAIN!

141 notes · View notes

sailoryooons · 2 years

Text

Carved | Three | jjk (m)

→ Summary: Hundreds of years after the Underworld wins the war, Vaesen - demon kind - rule the Realms. The Vanir - creatures of light and the Heavens - are hunted and enslaved by Vaesen. When the demon prince Jungkook is given one of the Carved - angels who have been stripped of their wings - he has no idea what to do with you. You, however, have plans you are determined to see through. Even if it means death in the end.

→ Pairing: demon!Jungkook x angel!female reader

→ Rating: NSFW & 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging with this content. Any minors discovered interacting with adult content will be blocked immediately.

→ Type: Series

→ Genre: dystopian, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, angst

→ Warnings: Graphic depiction of torture in numerous manners (cutting open, gutting, burning, use of a bug creature that goes down the mouth, breaking bones), graphic depictions of blood and gore, mental manipulation, references to past abuse and torture, explicit language, toxic family dynamics, sexual innuendos and implications, mention of scars and old injuries, unsettling descriptions of people used as inanimate objects, Taehyung being Taehyung (yes this is a warning), and non-consented touching (reader does not verbally consent to people touching her like they are at a petting zoo, it's not sexual)

♦ Main Masterlist: here

♦ Series Masterlist: here

♦ faq |taglist request |

A/N: Another fic where Hali has gone absolutely off the rails from the outline and I will now have to adjust wildly. This chapter totally did not go where I originally planned, but I think that's okay. I have to be honest with you: I have really been struggling to write and I apologize how much that shows in a lot of these scenes. It has nothing to do with the story - it's just really bad writers block where I am having trouble writing scenes and imagery and I am absolutely stumbling in my creative flow. I hope it doesn't feel as stilted to readers as it does to me. This chapter finally has some background information on why Jungkook is Mr. Cool and Calm all the time, and it really highlights readers personality aka she is not very nice. This story will not have an update until September, as all of my non-Yoongi works will be on hiatus for Hali's Happy Agust writing event! I hope you like this chapter but I understand if you don't, I'm going to find some windex to drink as soon as I post this :)

Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgement or representation of real life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. BTS is not BTS culturally, intellectually, physically or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

/ PREVIOUS / NEXT CHAPTER /

Jungkook remembers the day he discovered what his mother looked like on the inside.

Sariel had beautiful, black hair and eyes like a burning sun. Jungkook remembers the warm gold of her skin, the dusky rose of her lips. Her eyes were round and soft like her face.

Jungkook has never asked Belial why out of all the angels he slaughtered he kept Sariel. He knows that it wasn’t love, and he knows that it wasn’t anything akin to affection. Jungkook fancies that before Sariel was Carved, she was a vicious angel who fought Belial every step of the way.

He looks at you and thinks that perhaps, history is repeating itself.

You say nothing as you’re pulled into the room by the back of the neck, Namjoon’s grip firm. You look at Jungkook once and there is a flare of violence so raw that Jungkook pushes off the wall, blinking in surprise.

Something ancient and angry slithers into the room and Namjoon pauses for a moment, grip on you loosening. It's just the three of you in the room. Jungkook feels himself hesitate, feels the way the presence presses against him as though Belial himself had entered the room. The Hellhound looks at Jungkook, who ignores him, eyes only for you.

You blink and it’s gone as quickly as the feeling arrived. You’re the listless Carved angel that you’re supposed to be.

"What the fuck was that?" Namjoon asks, looking at Jungkook.

"Never mind that, put her on the table before Belial comes down here and sees us fucking about."

But Jungkook knows – he knows something is wrong about you. You’re not what you’re supposed to be and no matter how much pain it will cause you, Jungkook needs to know. Needs to understand. And while he knows what it feels like to have someone he is connected to tortured, he thinks he can withstand it.

Withstand you.

Namjoon straps you to the table, the chains the only sound in the room. You offer your wrists freely, eyes starting up and the ceiling of the torture chamber.

Jungkook thinks of the way his mom looked on the table, just as defeated and limp, glassy eyes staring into nothing. The Flayer – an unassuming demon by the name of Alastor – had opened her up layer by layer. Jungkook had watched, eye-wide and mouth open as the gold of her skin turned to pink skin. Then muscle and tendons. Then to stick bones.

Her stomach had spilled next. The inside of Sariel was just like everyone else, with organs made to function, though a bit differently from humans. Her blood was red with threads of gold. Jungkook had been hypnotized by the color of the ichor, watching it drip down the drain as the Flayer cracked her ribcage.

Seeing his mother turned inside out had changed Jungkook. Not only in the way one is changed after watching someone they love brutally torn apart and examined but much worse.

You will always be connected to me, Sariel had whispered to Jungkook one night when she found him crying in the wine cellar with nothing but the spiders for comfort. Do you feel that thread? That’s special – it is just for us. No one else can hear us when you call for me on this. It’s our secret.

Later, Jungkook learned that being able to connect to his mother’s mind was not something common. She was not always present – most of the time as a Carved angel, she moved throughout the house like a ghost. But there were moments of clarity when her mind flashed, sharp as a razor and Jungkook would wake up in the middle of the night feeling her rage and fury as Belial fucked her into the mattress.

Alastor enters the room and Jungkook wonders if the demon is going to make you spill just like his mother. Alastor looks human enough at first. He’s shorter than most, with oily black hair and an unremarkable face. It’s his eyes that are different: blood red irises threaded with black.

For as long as Jungkook can remember, Alastor has been the Flayer for Belial and his family. Jungkook watches Alastor move silent through his torture chamber, found in a deep basement beneath the estate.

The room is cold. It has high ceilings despite being a basement. Metal beams run across, and a sprinkler system is hardwired to help wash the blood and gore from the ground. Some beams have pulleys affixed with chains, made for dangling victims.

White floors made of bone mixed with cement spread beneath Jungkook’s boots. It had taken Belial several attempts to find the right texture for the floor. Marble, though elegant, became too slippery and was causing accidents as the Flayer slid on a filmy piece of lung. Concrete was too porous, the blood seeping in and refusing to come out until Belial hired a witch to spell the stain from the ground.

Bone, though? Bone was a good element to mix in, giving the cement a smooth finish that doesn’t create slippage when painted with bodily fluids but isn’t so texture that the blood and bits of flesh cling to the ground.

Metal cabinets reflect the fluorescent light of the room. Jungkook can make out his distorted reflection from where he leans on the wall, arms crossed over his chest and one ankle draped over the other. You’re strapped to a medical table, steel manacles forged with brimstone locked to your wrists and ankles.

You stare at the ceiling. Namjoon comes to lean on the wall against Jungkook, a question in his eyes. Jungkook gives a barely perceptible shake of his head – they will discuss the feeling from a few minutes ago later.

Belial enters the room as Alastor slides black gloves on. Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of demon the Flayer is, he just knows that for whatever reason, some Vanir blood burns him. Jungkook recalls the sizzle of flesh as his mother dripped dripped dripped on the ground and Alastor’s wrist.

“Thank you for coming, Alastor.” Belial’s voice is reserved, but polite. Jungkook feels the weight of his father’s presence like a weighted blanket, pushing on his shoulders, his body, his mind. “I’d like to ask the seraph some questions.”

“Ah,” Alastor speaks. His voice is soft as a whisper, Jungkook’s skin tingling. “So it is one of the seraphim.” He clicks his teeth, linking his hands behind his back and leaning over you. “Exquisite. Quite beautiful, this Carved. It is yours?”

“It’s the boy’s.”

Alastor turns to look at Jungkook, a smile splitting his face. It’s rare to see such a delighted expression on the Flayer’s face. “How wonderful. Where did you get it?”

Jungkook recounts Taehyung buying you for him. He goes over the details from the purchase, having memorized your data and limited history. If you’re bothered about being spoken to like you aren’t there, you don’t show it. Gone is that ancient flickering of anger, replaced by void staring.

“Does the Carved not answer questions, Lord?” Alastor asks, slithering to a rolling medical cart with towels and an array of tools: scissors, knives, scalpels, things that look like corkscrews, pliers, and other torture devices.

“You know as well as I do that once Carved, these creatures become stupid. It will not remember anything of what it is unless we make it.” Belial looks at Alastor. “You’ll remember the answers we received the last time we did this.”

Alastor grunts. “Sariel’s recollection through trauma was most enlightening. Pity.” He leans over you. Jungkook feels a flicker – something like impatience from you. He cocks his head to the side and reaches toward the feeling, but it’s already gone. “Daughter of Michael though,” Alastor notes. “That is something.”

Jungkook cannot wrap his head around that. Daughter of Michael. Perhaps that is where you get the fire to fight the Carving. Jungkook knows you’re fighting it – can feel it in the way you lock him out of your mind, in the way that rage of yours spills over like hot liquid. He knows something is wrong with you and he doesn’t know what.

So he keeps his mouth shut as Alastor takes a small scalpel, brandishing it in the light. Belial stands next to the Flayer, hands behind his back as they look down at you. Jungkook watches with rapt attention as the blade slices through a thin layer of skin, red blood laced with gold rushing to the surface of your forearm where he makes the slice.

You don’t react. Jungkook reaches for that mental tether between the two of you, but it’s stronger than ever. He is unsure how you do that, how you lock him out. His mother was never able to do that, had never taught Jungkook how.

Blood tricks down your arm as Alastor hums. He has peeled the thinnest layer of skin off your arm. He tosses the layer of flesh behind him. Jungkook’s sensitive ears pick up on the wet slap of it on the floor just as Alastor touches the scalpel to your arm again, this time giving a deeper cut.

You still do not react. Jungkook can feel nothing behind your mental wall, no matter how he presses at it. As the Flayer works on testing your pain tolerance, you remain the empty shell you’re supposed to be.

No one speaks. The air conditioning hums and Jungkook watches as the Flayer digs his blade deeper. Your arm becomes redder. He can smell your blood – sweet and citrusy like orange blossom. Blood drips onto the floor, slowly inching toward the drain in the middle of the room. It is not much, but it makes Jungkook shift slightly.

You smell wonderful. It makes his stomach curl, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he takes a deep breath in and then out before he can lose control over something so little. Namjoon casts a glance at Jungkook, but he ignores the Hellhound in favor of watching Alastor put down the scalpel.

“She’s a glaedia,” the Flayer observes. “I believe her pain tolerance is going to be higher than most, and she is Carved. You recall Sariel’s tolerance?” Belial makes an unimpressed hum. “May I skip to more severe limit tests?”

“You may.”

Carefully, Alastor picks up a small torch affixed to a propane tank. Jungkook feels a flicker on the other side of your mental walls. He reaches out but you are still unavailable to him. He senses you there, though, on the other side of your barrier, prowling as your eyes register the blue flame as the Flayer ignites it.

“Hm,” Belial hums, leaning over you slightly. “It recognizes the danger of being burned. Carry on.”

Without hesitation, Alastor holds the flame to the flesh of your bicep. You pull in the restraints, a sound grunting out between clenched teeth. The blue flame melts at your flesh, the smell of charred skin entering the room. It smells like any other cooking meat, intensified by your orange blossom notes.

You whine behind a mouth pressed shut, pulling your arm from the flame. Jungkook can sense the rage rolling behind your mental barriers, white caps slamming against a cliff. He pushes at your thoughts again, hoping that he can find a weakness.

There are no gaps.

Alastor removes the flame from your arm and you shiver. The skin of your arm is ruined – blackened on the edges as though the skin has rotted away. Red blisters bubble immediately and Jungkook can see the fat of your arm, slick and melted. In just a few seconds, Alastor has given you third-degree burns, verging on fourth.

Belial leans over you again, imperious eyes looking down. “Are you a part of Libram?” You shake your head against the table. “Again, Alastor. New flesh, please.”

The Flayer complies. Again, Jungkook can feel your suffering. He pushes on that mental barrier again, desperate to use your pain as a distraction to sift through your thoughts and memories. Jungkook remembers the way he could look through his mother’s mind, unguarded and open for the taking. Her mind had been cluttered and unorganized after her Carving, but every once in a while, Jungkook had stumbled on something interesting. Something new.

You still don’t give. He pushes harder and you snap back at him, an electric barb zapping at Jungkook. He recoils. Namjoon puts an arm on Jungkook, checking to see if he is okay but Jungkook shakes him off, nose flaring.

A Carved should not be able to fight back. Jungkook knows this. He knows you know this. And yet you keep him out, and you manage to keep your mouth shut as Alastor flicks the flame off again and Belial asks you the question once more. Are you a part of Libram?

It’s a risk you’re taking by shutting Jungkook out. Jungkook is sure of it. By not letting him in, you expose the loopholes in your Carving and reveal that something is wrong with you.

Jungkook considers telling Belial. He looks at his father, who sighs in annoyance when you shake your head to his question again. He weighs the pros and cons of exposing you: It will likely gain favor with his father. Belial is always particularly fond when Jungkook can provide observations. He is also thousands of years old – he must know of some cases of the Carved being broken.

But for Jungkook to tell his father means that Belial will most likely take you from him. It means that you will no longer be his, no matter what Jungkook says. And worst of all, it will expose to Belial that Jungkook can communicate with the seraphim, something he has hidden for years.

For Jungkook to admit his connection to you is to sign off on his death. It doesn’t matter that Belial might find Jungkook a useful tool to hunt down other seraphim or to kill his son altogether for being more angel than he originally believed.

So Jungkook decides against it. Instead, he settles on the wall again, watching Alastor put away the torch.

“Are you a member of Libram?” Belial asks.

“I do not know what Libram is, dominus.”

The Flayer walks to a metal cabinet, pulling open one of the doors. Jungkook can see an array of glasses with things inside of them, but the door is in the way. The Flayer removes a jar and closes the door behind him with a soft click before turning around.

A creature with a thin, black body and many legs writhes in the jar. Jungkook recognizes the burrower demon, with little pinchers for mouths and no eyes to dick into a host’s body and burrow through flesh, eating and churning.

He sets the jar on the table. The burrower demon skitters on the glass, legs tap tap tapping as it waits to be released. Your eyes settle on the jaw and your nose flares, chest rising and falling as you begin to pant. Your eyes flickered up to Belial.

“Do you know what this is, Carved?” You swallow and nod once. “Hm. How old are you?”

“I don’t know, dominus.”

It’s the first time you’ve spoken, voice ragged and laced with pain. Belial scoffs. “What is the name of this creature, Carved?”

Your eyes flicker to the black insect in the jar. “A yomi worm, dominus.”

“The very demons who were created from Izanami’s body and devour the souls in Yomi. The Flayer is going to put this demon in you, Carved, and I’m going to watch it burrow and make a nest in your stomach unless you can remember who and what you are. Do you know where Uriel lies?”

“I do not know the name Uriel.”

“Do it,” Belial orders.

Alastor unscrews the jar carefully. With a pair of tongs, he removes the yomi worm. It thrashes, seeking heat and flesh, its legs undulating. Instead of pulling at the restraints, Jungkook is surprised to see you turn your head toward the ceiling and open your mouth.

It’s a tiny moment of defiance hidden as obedience. Jungkook can see the way you stick out your pink tongue, staring straight again, brows creased as Alastor drops the creature right between your open lips. Jungkook winces as you immediately choke, the creature crawling down your throat.

You sputter on the table. Jungkook sees the bulge as the demon burros down your throat. Spit and blood leaked out the side of your lips and for the first time that day, you reward Belial and Alastor with a scream. It splits the air, deep and guttural, blood spraying as you do it.

Jungkook reaches his mind out to yours and finds that your barriers are up, but weak. He presses on them again, determined to get through. It’s more like finding a hole in the wall now as he pushes up against you. He can feel you fighting him, but you’re busy fighting the demon eating its way through your chest.

The mental wall collapses. A rush of air sweeps into Jungkook’s lungs in victory, his lips curling upward into a smirk.

Pain slams into him. He goes rigid on the wall, fingers digging into his sides to steady himself. His intake of air is sharp enough that Namjoon bends over, murmuring a question. Jungkook can’t hear him, but he pushes Namjoon away, trying to keep a hold on his composure as his father watches you scream on the table, too distracted to realize Jungkook is having a fit.

It feels like he is pulled into a vortex of color and feeling. Jungkook is trapped, trying to find his way out of your head. He sees snatches of red and gold, white wings falling from the sky, blood spraying the field, the hall of champions of a Titan Match. He hears screams and crying, hears the ring swords, hears chanting that he vaguely thinks is the seraphim legion.

Heat licks at him. Jungkook does not remember feeling anything as hot as this. White lights explode across his vision as he grits his teeth and tries to gain control.

“You wanted in,” a voice growls, divine rage behind every word. “So I let you in, Lord Jungkook. Welcome.”

Jungkook is no longer in the present. He’s standing on a killing field turned black. Ash drifts around him and settles on his face. He looks up – the sky is red, as though the sun has cracked open and spilled crimson yolk across the world.

Something else falls from the sky. He reaches out a hand and catches a white feather, singed on the edges. He realizes that the feathers belong to angel wings. He watches as it disintegrates in his hand, dust in the wind.

“What is this place?” Jungkook asks into the dead air.

“It is the after,” your voice answers. It is still a growl, hot and angry. “This is not where I want you.”

The scenery changes. Jungkook stands in the Flayer’s torture chamber. Except it is no longer you on the table – it is his mother. Something twists in his chest as Alastor cracks his mother’s chest cavity open. He feels what she feels, he sees what she sees.

His mother’s mind is broken and frantic. She reaches out to him and latches on, all claws and teeth as she sinks into his thoughts, his soul, his being and holds on for dear life. Jungkook cannot shake her off – bends over at the waist and gasps in pain. He feigns being sick, even though he knows Belial will beat him for it later.

Jungkook skitters into the hall, gasping for air and feverish. His mother’s screams paint the walls of his mind and her pain is in every corner.

“You felt her die.” Jungkook looks up as you stand above him, eyes shadowed. You’re in his mind, in his thoughts. He feels you pressing down on him. “You watched him cut her open and throw her guts on the ground, digging around for secrets.”

“How are you here?” Jungkook thinks – he demands. “What are you?”

“I am Carved.”

He glances up at you. Feels sweat on his face. “You’ve invaded my mind.”

“No,” you disagree. “You have invaded mine. Here is your first lesson on entering the mind of a seraph: the connection goes both ways. Once in, you cannot hide.” Sariel screams in the other room and Jungkook shivers. It feels as though his mother is alive again, as though her blood is slicking his boots and staining the room with her scent. “Why did he torture Sariel?”

He looks up. “How do you know my mother’s name?”

“I was legion. She was legion.”

“You told Belial you were not legion.”

“You told Belial you didn’t know I was.”

He frowns. You state at him, beautiful. Enchanting. Fierce. “You said ‘was’, not ‘is’.”

“Was,” you agree. “If there were enough seraphim to make a legion, you would know. Sariel was second in command to Uriel in the 7th.” Your eyes slide to him as Jungkook pants through searing pain that bleeds deep into him. He feels it in his stomach, his pelvis, his back – it blooms and bleeds and spreads. “Belial was looking for lilins.”

“Why would my mother know where lilin’s are?”

“Lilith kidnapped and raped Uriel for years and whelped the lilins that won you the war.” You tilt your head, eyes studying him. “Your mother led the 7th after Uriel’s capture. You do not know this?”

“No,” he grits out. “Because my mother was Carved she didn’t remember who or what she was for the most part.” A high-pitched scream interrupts him. It does belong to his mother. Jungkook turns and looks at the door that leads to the torture chamber. “Is that you screaming?”

“It is. Realistic, isn’t it?”

“How can you be here and there at once?”

“How can you?”

He grunts in annoyance. “Tell Belial what you are and he’ll stop. He'll probably kill you, but at least your suffering will be over.”

“There is nothing to tell. If you think this is suffering, you know nothing of being Carved.”

“You were Carved wrong.”

“And you are not endarkened.” Jungkook pauses. Your lip curls with satisfaction, knowing you hit a nerve. “I know an enlightened when I see one. When I first saw you, I didn’t see it. You hide it well. You parade around pretending that your demon blood is dominant so he’ll keep you, but it’s not.”

“So you’re blackmailing me?”

“I’m offering you silence for silence.”

“You are my slave.”

You move so fast that Jungkook doesn’t see what happens. All he knows is that he is on the floor, your nails digging into his throat. He can’t feel his limbs to fight you, all he can feel is something burning so hot that he screams and screams and screams.

Jungkook tastes blood. His ears begin to ring. His vision pulses red on the edges and he thinks he’s going to die. He sees his mother’s face. Empty and blank. He sees her body, ribs free of muscle and flesh, painted red and empty as Alastor walks away from her.

“You are beneath me in ways you cannot fathom,” you growl to him. Again, he feels that ancient anger roll through you.

It occurs to Jungkook that you are too calm for the situation. You have too much control. He thinks about the way you let Namjoon lead you to the room and strap you to the table. The way that you cut down the malakim with just summoning concentrated air. How now, you hold him prisoner in his own mind while being tortured?

The heat is so prominent and stifling that Jungkook struggles to string together thoughts. Words and emotions become a tangled mess. The blue flame flickers in your endless eyes and he feels like every second he spends putting the pieces together is another moment he is about to turn to ash.

“You let Belial torture you to appear innocent and you let me in your mind when the pain was enough to trap me,” Jungkook says. The words are like lava in his mouth. It isn’t a question. He can feel the satisfaction hum through you, though his vision is still pulsing. He thinks he might pass out. “What do you want from me?”

“Do we have a deal or not? My silence for yours, seraph.”

“I am not a seraph.”

“You are seraph dominant. Do we have a deal? You will not make it out of this room without me.”

Jungkook thinks about the night on his balcony. The mist on his skin, the ebbing darkness, and the curiosity of stepping off into the shadows and letting the fall swallow him hole. He feels that same pull now, but instead of stepping off a building, Jungkook is drawn to you. Is interested in you.

So much of his life has been boring. So much of his life has been spent alone. Now you exist, a strange angel who is Carved but Not Carved, and who lures even the greatest of demons into traps to do your bidding.

He wonders what would happen if you kill him now. Surely you would make it past Alastor and Namjoon. But would you make it past Belial? The seraphim are not the only creatures who can rival the likes of the Triumvirate, but there aren’t so many of those left.

But maybe – just maybe you can help him figure out this existence of his. So against his judgment, Jungkook relaxes under your fiery grip. Comes to his conclusion.

You hum, as though you have made a decision. Heat flares, and just as Jungkook thinks he will burn to nothing, he concedes. “Deal.”

The connection severs. The searing heat threatening to melt his existence vanishes. The world swims into view and Jungkook blinks a few times to gather his bearings. He is still leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Namjoon gives Jungkook a side eye that Jungkook continues to ignore as he takes a deep breath.

He feels his hands shaking as he stares at you. You’re bloodier than he remembers you being. The yomi worm is back in its jar, slick with red fluid. Belial turns on his heel, walking over to Jungkook, who straightens.

“This Carved is useless,” Belial tells Jungkook gruffly. “Its mind is too broken. Only you could find a Carved seraph that is truly of no use to me. Regardless, bring it to the party tonight. I’m sure the others would love to see your new toy.”

Without another word, Belial leaves the room. Jungkook doesn’t know what they asked you. Doesn’t know how much time is passed. You’re barely breathing on the table, chest rising and falling rapidly. Jungkook strides forward as Alastor begins to peel his gloves off, covered in slick blood. The drain drips as the flow of fluid slowly slides down.

Your eyes are fluttering up at the ceiling. You’re covered in red stains. Some are dry and flaking, others are wet and sticky. There is a massive hole in your chest and Jungkook can see that the bleeding has already stopped. Your tissue is pulling back together as you heal yourself.

Suddenly it’s not you that Jungkook is looking at. It’s his mother. He sees the tears slide down her face as the light fades. He sees that she is not healing. Her insides are empty, scooped out like the pit of a cherry. Not once did he stop them. Not once did he ask them to spare her.

Jungkook had stood and watched the Flayer pick at his mother’s bones and insides for secrets.

Belial was looking for lilins.

Your words come back to him. How could Belial think Sariel, broken and fragile could know anything? How had Jungkook not known that his mother led a legion of heaven in the war? There are so many questions spinning in his mind as he looks down at you.

Carved, but Not Carved. Bound to him, but disobedient.

You’re the answer to questions he has always had and those he has never thought to ask.

With a grimace, Jungkook reaches for that mental tether. There is no wall, but you are wary of him. Your mind isn’t all heat and fire and pain this time – it is watery and dark, like the mist off of Jungkook’s balcony that night of his birthday.

Are you okay? He asks the question to you before he knows what he is doing – the words just appear in his mind.

Life flickers in your eyes. Your pupils shrink as you focus on him, razor-sharp and present.

Pain is inevitable, your mind answers. Your skin is stitching together, drawing Jungkook’s gaze from your eyes to where he watching the crawling fibers of flesh writhe and twist until you are whole.

Pain is constant. You sit up, swaying a bit. Neither Namjoon nor Jungkook reaches out to help as you struggle to sit up. You grimace, but otherwise remain sitting and painting. Your eyes find his again when your mind whispers, Pain is power.

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you on the ride home. You watch the neon city blur by you. As the car stops in traffic, you look up at the purple and pink glow of twisted shapes and holograms. Your face is painted blue through the tinted window as a holographic nymph with lush curves bends over, puckering her lips and blowing a kiss into the rain-slicked streets outside.

The car moves again and the advertisement is gone.

Black and clear umbrellas thrumming with lights pop open and move along the street like beetles. The sidewalk is crushed with Vaesen coming and going. It’s the weekend, you realize, and there are long lines to get into glittery clubs. Vanir stand in the rain loyally next to Vaesen masters.

People and the crush of bodies fade as you’re driven to the nicer part of town. You’re wrapped in a towel to not get blood in the car. You’re thankful that you did not have to walk barefoot out of the manor district to a doctor, but you’re on edge.

Your insides churn as though you could feel the yomi worm still squirming inside of you. It had been unpleasant, feeling a living thing that was not a part of you chew its way through your insides. It had been more horrific to feel it than the pain had been.

Pain is inevitable, and little truly hurt you anymore.

Jungkook had been a good distraction. You wondered each time he pressed up against your mind if he would give up the next time. You want to see how hard he would push. What he knew. Your suspicions that he knew absolutely nothing about his seraph heritage were right.

The moment you weakened your barrier and let him in, you saw. You had no idea that Sariel had been taken by Belial all of those years. You wanted to pick through Jungkook’s memories. To see what he knew about her, to see how she had been. The last time you had seen Sariel was before the war had been decided when she was leading the 7th in Uriel’s stead.

Looking at Jungkook now, you see it. He has her round eyes and soft nose, her tiny beauty marks, and soft lips. But the cheekbones and structure of his face are Belial, and so is the shadow that looms over him. Though Jungkook is angel dominant, you can feel that dark thread of power he gets from his father.

Ari is nowhere to be found when you entire the apartment. Jungkook dismisses Namjoon entirely. The hellhound raises his brow, eyes flickering between you and Jungkook.

“What?” Jungkook snaps, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “Problem, Namjoon?”

“What the fuck happened?” Namjoon’s eyes are narrowed at you. “You kept fidgeting at the beginning of the questioning and then you just… it was like no one was home for the next three hours.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. You stand mutely, looking at the floor and wondering how long you’ll have to wait for Namjoon to leave. You want a shower. You want to think. You want to plan. But you can do none of those things with the keen eyes of the dog looking at you.

“Nothing happened,” Jungkook sighs, looking up at Namjoon. His shirt is open down the middle now, revealing tan, tone skin. Your eyes flicker along the muscle, smooth and flat. He either doesn’t notice you staring at him or doesn’t care. “As Belial said, I have a useless Carved.”

Namjoon grunts. “Yeah.” He jams his finger on the elevator button and steps into it when the doors open. “Useless.”

The doors shut and the elevator whirs as it takes Namjoon down to the ground floor. Without him in the room, you drop your act and look at Jungkook directly in the face. He’s already staring at you, eyes unreadable, brow pinched.

“So can I shower?”

“So you’re not going to even pretend to be submissive now?”

“I asked permission for a shower.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m just a dumb Carved, dominus. I don’t know anything.”

Jungkook growls and you grin. He’s on edge. You can feel the coiled muscles, feel the way his stress is mounting. The cool exterior he kept on the car ride to the estate had frayed after your encounter in your minds, and it was fraying more now that you weren’t pretending.

“You know your demon side is pretty close to frenzying, right?” Surprise flickers briefly in his eyes. Otherwise, he remains silent. “It’s why you were so easy to lure in. You weren’t even thinking about the consequences of invading my mind. You went head first, never considering it could have been a trap.”

“You’ve made your point. You’re smart, I’m not.”

You laugh. It’s sharp and loud, surprising you both as you snap your mouth shut. “Please,” you scoff. “Now is not the time to be humble. You’re not unintelligent. You’ve lived – how long, now? Pretending to be endarkened?”

“A long time.”

You smirk. “Your stupidity is coming from your demonic need to lose control. I suggest finding an outlet and doing just that, dominus.”

Turning on your heel, you head to your assigned room where there is an en suite bathroom. Jungkook growls and appears in front of you, quick and angry. You stop, leveling a stare at him. He glares at you and his fists are clenched. He’s probably never been defied before you. That alone sends a little thrill through you.

“We need to establish some ground rules,” he grits out. “First, you are Vanir. You will not disrespect me in my own house. I should just be fucking rid of you-“

“Then do it.” Jungkook stops short. You shrug. “You have questions. You think I have answers. I could say the same for you. But if it will make you feel better, I will treat you as an equal if you return the favor.”

Jungkook hesitates. You wait. You have all of the time in the world. You’re extending him a courtesy – at least, that’s what you tell yourself. You try to convince yourself that you let him in to use him. Because Jungkook is an asset. You know that to be true, but you also know it’s not the only reason you’re in front of him, dropping the submissive façade.

It’s a risk you calculated after being led down to be torture. Every victory must come at a loss, and though you already miss the shadow that the submissive, Carved slave provided you, something like an instinct is telling you that you need Jungkook.

So you let him in. Just a little. Just enough to know that he can’t push you around the way he thought he can. If he can’t consider you an equal, you need him to consider you a threat. You need him afraid enough of exposing his secret to keep yours.

“That won’t work,” he sighs. “You cannot be my equal.”

“Behind closed doors,” you amend. “In front of your friends and family, I will be the docile Carved you need. But here, when it’s just us, free me from the burned of this bond. Respect earned is respect given.”

“This shouldn’t even be possible.”

“Like you said. I was Carved wrong.”

His brows pinch. “How?”

“Do we have an agreement or not? My silence in exchange for yours. My respect in exchange for yours with limitations.”

“What is it you want? Why let me know that you’re not obedient at all?”

“Freedom,” you murmur. “I want freedom. And because you’re seraphim. It has to mean something.”

There’s a stretch of silence. You’re itchy, the dried blood on your skin flaking off and beginning to peel. You also feel uncomfortable, the nerve endings still healing from having been split open. The phantom feeling of the yomi worm.

“One fuck up from you and I’ll kill you,” Jungkook decides. There’s a storm in his gaze that tells you he means it. He’ll try to kill you, whether he thinks he can win or not. “But you will do what I say in public. And in private, you will answer my questions. I want to know about Sariel.”

You bow your head once. “Of course, dominus.”

Jungkook lets you pass. You strip down in the bathroom, throwing your clothes in the sink. They reek of blood and fear. Because you had been afraid, at one point. Afraid that you would lose your grip on yourself when trying to force Jungkook into submission. Afraid you would mess up the performance while you screamed into the ceiling of the torture room.

What Alastor had done hurt. You ached and as you turned the shower on, the rushing water could not drown out remembering the sound of your snapping bones. As the water burned your skin and turned the tile scarlet, you could not stop thinking about choking the yomi worm down.

It has not been easy. You had not had to split your focus like that in a long time, to be in the present and doing one thing while being in your mind and doing another. It was a skill that all seraphs learned. To retreat into the mind and be able to communicate. It was necessary during the war.

You can feel Jungkook moving around the house. Now that you know the shape of his mind, he is more familiar to you. His mind feels like perfumed smoke, the smell of cedarwood with a hint of fire and brimstone.

Overpowering him had been so easy. Even now as you squeeze the red from your hair, you can sense the edge in him. Though his mother’s blood is dominant, there is a thread of untethered rage in him. You felt it when you connected, felt it when you had pinned him down. You wonder how long he has been keeping the beast at bay, how long he has tried to control himself.

Out of the shower and in front of the fogged mirror, you wipe your hand back and forth to see yourself. Your nakedness doesn’t offend you anymore. Your body doesn’t change much with time, except how fed you appear.

Now, you look at the pink scar on your chest. While you had been struggling to paint pictures and wrestle Jungkook to submission, the yomi worm had done work on you. As an angel, you could recover from most injuries. The only exceptions were weapons made of demon stone or adamas, hellfire or heavenly fire, and occasionally being blown apart by other creatures of the world.

You’ve avoided death thus far. The Flayer hadn’t even been close.

In fresh clothes, you lurk in the kitchen in search of water. Jungkook enters, also freshly washed and looking at you warily. You slide him a glass of water tentatively. He doesn’t thank you.

Damp hair hands into his eyes. His short sleeves allow you to see the winding dragon tattoos that he has on both of his arms, the rest of the artwork vanishing in his sleeve. Jungkook is beautiful. That much is obvious. But you had the way you want to seek out and brush your thoughts against his.

Feeling someone else in the world is an old memory. You remember the last time you felt the presence of the seraphim – it had been before you were Carved. And that seraph was long turned to dust, her name forgotten. But not by you.

“You remember things from before you were Carved.” Jungkook’s voice is soft. It’s not a question. He sips his water and rounds the counter, putting it between you like a buffer. “How?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t remember everything. I am still Carved. If you order me to do something, I feel that command.”

“Set the glass of water down.”

Your hand reacts immediately. You lean to put it on the counter, but you stop the motion. You make the decision. The interaction is overridden, and you bring the glass back to do. “I can decide to not obey, but it will be my first instinct.”

“That’s… confusing. What about when you’re choked?”

“Chokes are about flow of energy and power. Does not seem to be linked.”

“You don’t know why you’re like this?”

“No,” you lie. You are the best liar. Jungkook doesn’t seem to sense it, so you continue, “I don’t know everything from before and it is often confusing. When I was Carved, it was like waking up from a dream. I don’t know what was real and what was not, but I’ve gotten better at being able to tell.”

“You met Sariel?”

“I think so.”

“You think so or you know so?”

You bristle at his tone. “I think so. I remember her face. You have the same eyes, though yours are black like Belials.”

“You’ve never met Belial before?”

“No.” He hums. You finish your water, setting the empty glass on the table. “What was growing up with Sariel like?”

“What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes. “I mean what I said. What was it like having a Carved for a mother.”

Jungkook shrugs. “She wasn’t very present. I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” He looks at his phone. “Get dressed,” he sighs. “We have a party to go to tonight. It’s my brother’s birthday.”

“Why do I have to go?”

Jungkook gives you a grin like the cat who ate the canary. “I get to show you off, Reaper.”

“This dress is ridiculous,” you deadpan, looking at the gauzy, see-through material. You rub the fabric between your fingers. It’s softer than anything you’ve felt in a long time. You think perhaps that it’s fae spider silk, but you’re not sure. “This is what you want me to wear?”

“It was sent by Taehyung as a gift. And as I haven’t purchased a dress for you, it’s the only option I have.”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“I thought we agreed with compliance?”

You give him round eyes. “No one else is around.”

Jungkook does not look amused. Ari has helped you apply a sheen of gold to your skin. When you move, it catches the light, making it look like you are glowing and divine. Ari has also made sure that none of your hair covers the twisted scars on your back, proving that you are Carved.

Dressed head-to-toe in black, Jungkook looks good enough that your stomach had flipped when he walked into the room. Tight, black slacks with polished shoes, a black button-up that is just as sheer as your dress tucked into his pants, showing off his tiny waist, paired with a black suit jacket threaded with glittering gold.

Kohl lines his eyes lightly enough that their roundness is intensified. You see a dusting of glitter on his cheeks, making him look so beautiful that you have refused to look at him since he walked into the room. Letting him in on your scheming was bad enough. Feeling that flippant attraction because he is physically appealing is worse.

“Why is Taehyung sending me gifts?”

He snorts. “I promise it’s not for you.”

“Oh? Are you meant to wear it?”

“Funny.” Jungkook’s tone suggests that he does not, in fact, find your joke funny. “Wear it or go naked. Vanir go naked all the time.”

“I’ll be naked regardless,” you grunt. It’s not the nakedness that bothers you. You’ve been put on display and posed for nudity and shoved to your hands and knees and fucked in public. Fucked any time people wanted. Groped, fondled, tongued. “It’s just a shitty dress.”

Jungkook’s mouth twitches upward but he says nothing, drifting out of the room.

You slide the material over your body. It has no back, but is snug on your frame. It has long sleeves, stoned with tiny gold pieces that make you look like the night sky when you move. The material does nothing to hide your body, breasts visible and held firm by the fabric. You’re glad that at least the skirt is well-blended and doesn’t show the rest of you, though it is short and you suspect that one wrong move will show your ass.

There are two, thin straps that dandle down the back like ornaments. They’re silver, lariat-style chains that hang backward down your spine, flanking either shoulder blade. The two dangling ends are tipped with a little wing. You look in the mirror and grit your teeth, seeing the delicate jeweled wings glint in the night.

Funny.

You slide on heels before you leave the room. The stiletto is razor thin and uncomfortable. It takes you a moment to find your stride as you enter the living room where Jungkook is thanking someone at the elevator door, box in hand. He turns as you enter the room, brows shooting up to his hairline as you stand awkwardly in the living area.

Your eyes drop to the flat, square box in his hand.

“What’s that?”

Jungkook wordlessly walks over to you, shoes clicking on the title. You hold your breath as his scent wraps itself around you. You focus on his fingers as he opens the lid, trying not to think about the way his shadowy mind lingers just on the outside of yours. The thread between you is distant, but there. At a safe distance, where it hums softly, linking you.

A black, velvet collar is nestled in the box. A large, light blue diamond winks in the light of the kitchen. The exquisite squared cut is larger than a grape and looks heavy. “You have to wear it.”

“I know.” You glance up at him. “It is impersonalized, how will people know its for you?”

“Everyone will know what it is,” he affirms. “Turn around.”

You objey on instint, showing him your back. It’s silence between the two of you as Jungkook reaches his arms around you, fingers brushing your skin. His warm where he touches you, a tingle going through your skin. Your eyes flutter shut as he clasps the collar around your throat, snug and perfect.

Heat rolls off of Jungkook. He smells heady and wonderful, making your head swim. His hands leave the choker and his fingers brush near your shoulder blades, stopping before he gets to the scars.

“Nice touch with the wings,” Jungkook grunts. “Taehyung has an interesting sense of humor.”

“I am Vanir. I will always be the butt of the joke.” When Jungkook says nothing, you step away and face him, gesturing vaguely to your throat. “Why will everyone recognize this?”

“It was my mother.”

“That’s… weird.”

Jungkook shrugs. “I haven’t commissioned you one yet. Deal with it or I can find you a spare shoelace to wear instead.”

Namjoon is standing next to the car with the door open when you exit the building. He glares at you but you cast your eyes down to the floor, pulling on the persona that you promise Jungkook you would wear for the evening.

The interior of the car is cool and tense as Namjoon slides in next to Jungkook. You blink lazily, gazing out the window as the driver pulls into the road and rolls up the privacy window after Namjoon rattles off the address.

“Why is it dressed so nicely?”

You fight the urge to give him a sour expression and to tell him that jealousy is a disease. Instead, you continue to stare dully out the window, the world a kaleidoscope of colors. It seems like your torture was days ago and not hours ago.

Losing yourself in your thoughts is easy. You don’t hear Namjoon and Jungkook, although you know that they’re talking. You lose a sense of yourself as you think back to Belial’s venomous voice asking you his questions. Who are you? Are you connected to Libram? What is your association with the legion? What do you remember? Do you know where the last of the lilins are?

A waste of questions. You were not involved with Libram, which was sure to be disappointing. You had no desire to meddle in the little rebellion they were putting on.

There is no association with the legion because there is no legion – your old association is nothing. It’s bone and dust and faded from the world.

Your memories are scattered and a cacophony of noises and images that are often hard to make out, no matter how many times Belial tried to trigger some sort of trauma response from you to remember like he kept asking you.

And as for the lilins? The most worthless question of them all. The lilins were gone. Belial’s obsession with hunting them down and Lilith’s vow to never breed with the seraphim ever again had secured the creature’s fate. You hadn’t heard of someone even mentioning lilins in years.

Though Belial had not gotten what he wanted out of you, he had stirred up memories you didn’t want to remember.

Angels falling from the sky. A blue whip flaying you open. Blood spattered promises. Tears as you let go of Haniel’s hand. The knife of your first carving. Cat-like eyes leering at you in the dark. Driving the knife through your first seraph. Blue fire, hot and blinding.

You flinch when Jungkook puts his hand on you. Namjoon is standing outside of the car. You realize you’re at your destination, and Jungkook is looking at you with pursed lips and a cock to his head. “You all right?” he murmurs.

“Does it matter?”

He shrugs. “No, but I was being polite.”

The demon slides from the limo, leaving you to scramble after him. As expected, the hem of your dress slides up, the curve of your ass sneaking out. Flashing cameras are there to capture the image. You keep your eyes cast down, gritting your teeth.

Unexpectedly, Jungkook reaches down and yanks the hemline of the dress back over your ass. You don’t dare lift your eyes, but you freeze under the movement.

“Try not to flash your ass unless I ask you to.”

Your nose flares. “Yes, dominus.”

Again, you fall silent as you enter the luxurious hotel and take the elevator to the party. You’re still dizzy from the flashes of cameras, but it fades as the elevator doors open and unveils the world beyond.

So we’ll live, and pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh at gilded butterflies….

The quote comes from a memory or a dream. You’re not entirely sure of the origin or the meaning. But the words haunt your mind as you step into the room, taking one sweeping glance at the gilded crowd.

Creatures of all manners cluster together in the gold-ceiling ballroom. High ceilings painted gold with images of the war look down on you. There are ornate cages of Vanir suspended in the room, all winged and painted beautifully. They pose for the crowd who look up at them, pointing at the variety: erelim, valkyrie, pixies, drakon, and other various fae.

Round tables with living centerpieces are scattered in the room. Androgynous figures painted entirely in gold stand straight, hands held up in front of them with a display of asphodel and ghost orchids. A band of vilas plays string instruments in the corner of the room.

Collared Vanir with serving trays bow and offer flutes of champagne to Jungkook and Namjoon. Both Vaesen takes a drink, ignoring you as they step into the room. You’re unsure if it’s you or Jungkook, but as you walk down the steps, careful to keep your eyes down and close behind Jungkook, you sense the turn in the room.

Voices grow quieter. The weight of eyes and shifting magic stirs. Jungkook walks into the party, shoes clicking on the marble floor as though he doesn’t notice. You know he does, but he has that calm exterior on again. The mask that he wears.

Jungkook greets people he knows politely. Namjoon has long since parted, spotting other people he knows. Other Vaesen bow deeply and their Vanir deeper still. The first few Vaesen he greets don’t ask about you, but you feel the weight of their gazes. Jungkook ignores you, not sparing you a second glance or a command as he moves around the room.

You can hear whispers as he walks by. People who mutter insults under their breaths. People sigh in delight as he walks by them. People who are inquisitive about you. Jungkook has to hear them, but he ignores them anyway, shaking hands with a member of some board that works under his family.

“My Lord, you have got quite the collared. Is she Carved?” The oni asks.

“She is. She was a gift from Kim Taehyung.”

The next hour goes like that. Vaesen fawn over you. They ask Jungkook to touch you. He lets them. Most of the touches are shy and innocent. A brush across your cheek. Hovered hands over your arms. A prod to the shoulder. It’s rude to fondle a master’s Vaesen without permission, and no one asks Jungkook for more than that.

Still, it irks you. Every brush of contact leaves a shadow of a print. Every caress chips away at your patience.

Guiding you toward a large table at the head of the room, Jungkook’s persona changes. His shoulders are less tense and you feel a bubble of happiness slide from him at the family you’re approaching.

A woman so beautiful it makes you cease moving is sitting at the table. She isn’t looking at you, but hissing at the child next to her to behave. The woman’s hair is long and black, looking soft like silk. Her round face and almond eyes give her an innocent look, a natural blush to her lips and cheeks. She is slight, but you can feel the malevolence from her, especially as she smacks the hand of the child and says something harshly to the little girl, who cries.

The woman looks up at Jungkook’s arrival, her eyes flickering different shades of blue, silver, and grey. You realize she’s a huli jing, her fox spirit crackling inside of her gaze.

Sweeping around the table and toward the pair, Jungkook greets the little girl warmly. He gives a stiff nod to the woman briefly before he bends down to talk to the little girl, wiping the tears from her eyes. You realize that the little girl looks startling like him – same round eyes and pink pout.

The man who appears on the other side of her must be Jungkook’s brother. They look incredibly similar, though Jungkook’s brother is taller and broader. His hair is also snow white. He has the same round eyes as Jungkook, which are wholly black and fathomless like Belial.

“Don’t spoil her,” he chides. “You always spoil her.”

“She’s my only niece, Jihoon. Let me do what I wish.”

Jihoon’s lip twitches as Jungkook kisses his niece – Kita – on the forehead and stands.

You stand and watch as he interacts with his family. He completely ignores you. None of them turn to look at you either, at first. It’s the little girl, who is sneaking chocolate-covered cherries when her mother isn’t looking that asks about you.

“Is that an angel?” her voice is soft, but carries.

Jihoon looks in your direction for the first time since starting the conversation. His expression is unreadable. “It is,” he says slowly. “Keen eye, Kita. Daiyu, take your daughter to clean the chocolate from her hands.”

The fox shifter – Daiyu – snarls at her daughter. “I told you to stop eating those!”

Daiyu grabs her daughter by the hand, yanking her from the table. They get lost in the crowd, but you can see the little chocolate handprints Kita left on the white linen tablecloths.

“Why do you have a Carved?” Jihoon’s tone is even, but you can swear there is animosity as he regards you from the corner of his eye. “I don’t like Carved.”

“Taehyung bought her for me as a gift.”

“Give her to him, then. You don’t even like owning slaves.”

Jungkook sighs. “I just came to tell you happy birthday.”

Jihoon huffs. “I’m serious. Consider giving it away. Strange things happen to those who own Carved angels.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes but gives his older brother a clap on the shoulder before he steers you to a mostly empty bar in another room of the party. The sweet scent of tobacco cloys the air. Most of the Vaesen in the room sit on leather couches, feet kicked up on their Vanir who kneel for them or who have their hand wrapped in the leash of the Vanir at their side.

“Wait here,” Jungkook orders you. You’re standing next to an empty seat in the corner of the room. You bow your head to let him know you’ve heard him, but you don’t use the honorific, irritated. His jaw flexes and he heads to the bar.

You study the intricate marble of the floor beneath your feet. Little veins of black and gold shoot through the white stone. It looks like a river delta, with offshoot rivers of gold and black threading through the world.

Hair tingles on the nape of your neck and something trickle down your spine. You glance out of the corner of your eye to see Kim Taehyung enter the room with a shorter man at his side. Taehyung is dressed in all white. His white, paneled shirt is tucked into wide-leg pants of the same material. A loose-fitted suit jacket finishes the ensemble. He looks ethereal and otherworldly, a single white feather dangles in one of his ears.

Taehyung spots you, drifting toward you. Though you don’t look at him directly, you can see that something shimmers on his skin. Making him look angelic, bringing out the tawny hues of his complexion.

“I knew that dress would be perfect for you,” Taehyung purrs as a way of greeting. He smells like lavender and something darker than you can’t pinpoint. “Such a pretty little thing. I should have kept you for myself.”

“Thank you for the dress, dominus.” You make your voice robotic.

Taehyung does not introduce the man at his elbow. You can make out his image in your peripheral: dark black hair swept back off of his forehead. Dressed in all black, though his outfit is understated. Earrings glitter in his ears, and there is a glowing aura when he moves.

Kitsune.

You know it without having to look. He feels ancient and powerful, a familiar feeling.

Instead of acknowledging the Vaesen, you’re focused on keeping your breath even as Taehyung invades your space. His breath is warm and heady against your forehead. You stare at his shows as his fingers dance up your arm, brushing goosebumps into your skin until he reaches your throat, tapping on the diamond.

“He gave you his mother’s? Really?” You say nothing. Do nothing. Something greasy and ugly twists in your stomach as Taehyung lowers his voice and his head. He’s so close that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin, smell the faint lavender, and… Japanese blossom, you think. “I’m going to have to ask Jungkookie to borrow you some time. Just need a little taste.”

“I would be honored, dominus?”

“Yeah? My other Carved loves to suck cock. Think you could take me in that cute little mouth of yours? Wanna see you drooling and choking on it.”

“I would be honored, dominus.”

Taehyung grits his teeth and his fingers grip the jewel at your throat. “You are not a fucking robot. I saw you on that killing field. Where is that personality now, hmm?”

“I apologize, dominus.”

He growls and pulls at the diamond. You growl in return, the sound so brief that you hope perhaps he doesn’t hear it. He grips your throat and you know he had. “There you are. Do I have to poke and prod you to come out and play?”

“Hello, Taehyung.” Jungkook’s voice cuts through Taehyung’s timbre. You feel the most surprising emotion at his arrival – relief. Taehyung makes your skin crawl, the oil of his words slipping down into the deepest parts of you. The kitsune is at Jungkook’s back, keen eyes pinning into you. You ignore him, though you realize he had retrieved Jungkook.

“Thank you for sending the dress. I’m incredibly grateful.”

“You should take better care of it,” Taehyung greets, but doesn’t move away. His nimble fingers are wrapped around your throat. You realize that the other Vaesen has left the room. “All my hard-earned money and she doesn’t even look like you’ve used her.”

“I can use her how I want, Tae.”

“Meh,” Taehyung sighs, letting you go with a little shove. “I want to borrow her.”

“Another time.”

“Hmm. I’ll hold you to that. What did your father think of her?”

Just like that, Taehyung’s interest in you fades. You steal a glance at the kitsune, but he isn’t looking at you. He has moved away from the three of you toward the bar, uninterested in the conversation. There is nothing for you to do but stare at your shoes and burn in the growing hatred for Kim Taehyung.

If Jungkook is bothered by Taehyung’s rugged handling of you, he shows no sign. For some reason, it bothers you more. As your master, he is supposed to take more pride in owning a Carved. But so far tonight, he has shown little interest in treating you like a prize or something to be proud of.

You almost think that he’s trying to give you space and shed as little light on you as possible, which won’t do.

“You want her to fight in a Vaesen pit?” Jungkook asks, voice skeptical. That catches your attention. “Why would I send a Carved angel to that cesspool? They won’t even let her in. She’d destroy the creatures that fight there.”

“There’s an elite Vaesen pit now. They fight outside the rules of the Titan Leagues but they’re made of better shit than the Vasen pits. And they allow synth moderated creatures to fight.”

“Sounds illegal.”

“Sounds fun.”

Jungkook hums. “Let me know when you need her.” He checks his watch. “Preferably not this weekend, please.”

Taehyung laughs and claps Jungkook on the back. You go red with rage. You agreed that you served Jungkook in the public, but fighting in the seedy, unregulated rings of Vanir and Vaesen for Taehyung was not a part of that agreement.

Jungkook glances at you. Senses the ill-managed temper. He sighs and turns to Taehyung, perhaps to take back his offer to lend you. You’re unsure, and Jungkook doesn’t get the chance to say anything.

Screams interrupt the conversation. You turn to look in the direction you’re coming from. People are running and the sound of chaos and snarls comes from somewhere in the main room. You smell blood and smoke and then it hits you.

You smell the honey-scent of the seraphim.

D E F I N I T I O N S

Carved – angels who have had their wings surgically removed and sold for ownership. The possession of an angel’s wings gives the owner power over the angel’s grace, thereby giving them power over the angel.

Chokes – electronic cuffs with micro-needles that send signals to the nerves and nervous system to block channeling magic – most often used on glaedia

Collared – a Vanir who is owned as a slave. They are often identifiable by the custom collars their masters put on their necks.

Dominus – term used by a slave to their male identifying master

Erelim - class of angel referenced in the book of Isaiah

Endarkened - the offspring of demons and angel unions with demon-dominant blood; considered Vaesen

Enlightened - the offspring of demons and angel unions with angel-dominant blood; considered Vanir

Huli jing - Chinese fox spirit; similar to the Kitsune

Lares - spiritual guardians in Roman mythology

Lilins - the offspring of the First Demon, Lilith, an the seraphim, most notably with the angels Uriel and Raphael. They are the perfect balance of Vanir and Vaesen and were used as spies during the war.

Malakim – refers to the angels associated with Shamayim (Judaism)

Malaikah – refers to angels associated with Jannah (Islam)

Nephilim – those who are half-angel, half-human

Seraph - a single angel, one of the seraphim

Seraphim - species of angels associated with Christian heaven, soldiers of God

Triumvirate – the three Lords who rule the Realms – figures of the Underworld

Vaesen – creatures associated with Underworld Realms such as demons, daevas, sorcerers, vampires, wraiths, and monster-like creatures

Vanir – creatures associated with Heaven Realms such as angels, faeries, witches, dragons, demigods and any heavenly-like being

Yomi Worm - came from my brain but fashioned from the story of maggots growing out of Izanami's body in the underworld Yomi after she died

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#fic: carved #haliiimede writes #bts fanfic #bts smut #bangtan boys #jeon jun #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bts #jjk #demon!jungkook #dark romance #minors do not interact #minors dni #dead dove do not eat

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