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fortune-fool02 · 3 years

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Uncertainty

Loki Laufeyson x TVA female reader

Summary: Loki had said something to Mobius, and he also told [Name]. That something had been floating around in her mind, and she wasn’t sure what to think of it.

Warning: Spoilers for Episode 3 and 4, light angst

I won’t lie, I was part way through episode four when this idea hit me. Please heed the warning above as it does contain a lot of spoilers!

Please enjoy.

If there was one single thing that [Name] had learnt in this little case, it was this:

You can not trust a Loki.

The more she looked back on it now, the more of a fool she felt herself to be. The man was a snake with more venom and hollow words, and half-truths that could sharpen even his silver-tongue. And she was foolish enough to listen, to almost believe him. Foolish enough to trust him. And that trust had caused a ripple effect in the Sacred Timeline, nexus events branching off, growing into their own little worlds of ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybe-ifs’ and the guilt of watching those branches grow weighed down on her shoulders for having him escape with the variant.

It had taken a while for the two Lokis to be brought into the custody of the TVA, as they should have been from the very beginning, and it costed them a good worker. C-20. Driven mad by the enchanting bewitchment forced upon her by the female variant before resulting in her death. Something that could, no, should have been prevented.

The pen left [Name]’s hand with a little more force than necessary, almost slamming it down rather than setting it. Heavy irritation coursing through her veins like blood, seeping into every single muscle of her body and running along every bone in her body; followed by a gnawing sensation, blunt teeth gnashing at her muscle and skin but not breaking it. The time they had spent together, the moments they would share in the library, at her desk, it felt....genuine to her. Perhaps it was nothing but an illusion he casted, toying with her with his words, pulling her strings like a puppet. And he did not even need powers to be able to do so.

Sighing, she dumped the report down and rested her head on folded arms upon the table, attempting to gain a sense of control of these emotions. A warm hand fell upon her shoulder, gentle and concern.

“You alright, kid?” Mobius spoke, his voice equally soft. He always referred to her as kid, his little nickname for her, then again the man was her mentor in a way. He always watched over her. Sitting up, she sighed and nodded.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” The [Hair colour] woman spoke, straightening herself and dusting herself down before finishing the report, trying to regain her focus. Though Mobius saw right through this like he was looking through clear glass on a bright day. All he did was give her a look and she crumbled. “I....I thought....I thought that Loki was different.” She admitted, in her time here, she had never once lied to Mobius. She had no reason to.

He took a seat beside her and nodded as she spoke, a look of sympathy and understanding on his face. “Yeah. I know. I thought that too.” He said, “I guess we were both....fooled.” [Name] leaned back on her seat, letting her head lean back until she could see the glaring light above her, and even then she tried her best not to shy away from its light.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked, turning the light off above her to prevent her from damaging her [Eye colour] eyes. Said eyes thankful that the burning sting was now fading as the blotches of blurring colours faded from her vision. “Something that....Loki told me?” She sat upright and looked at him, waiting.

“He told me that the TVA are lying to us all. Do you have any idea what that means?” He questioned her and she shook her head. Was this just another half-truth? A delusional lie twisted to make him look the victim somehow? Mobius left some time after that but it still lingered around in her mind, like the annoying buzz of a fly in a silent room. An irritating buzzing that continued to persist her until she rose from her chair and went off, slipping through the corridors and avoiding guards to reach the containment cell Loki was sealed in. A time-loop.

Her presence, in a way, paused the time-loop, allowing them to talk without disruption. Loki was hunched over on the ground, clasping his lower region from the repeated kicks he has received.

“Oh, I know I’m pathetic, and I deserve to be alo-” he was cut off as his eyes landed on [Name] instead of Sif for the seventh or eighth time. “[Name]?” She ignored his tone and approached.

“You told Mobius something. T-That the TVA are lying to us, what the Hell did you mean by that?” There was this underlying tone in her voice that Loki had not heard before. Demanding. Ordering. Her tone, her voice, was always so softly spoken, so gentle and warm.

“The TVA, they are lying to you, [Name]. They-” His words were cut off by her,

“Wait, how the Hell can I even trust a damn word out your mouth?” The sharpness of her words sparked, metal scraping against metal. “From the very moment you got here, you did nothing but lie to me. You said that everyone around you were nothing but pawns, how am I any different?” Now she was here, she realised how stupid this was. Why did she think this would even work?

“No, wait, [Name]! I’m not lying, I never once lied to you.” He called out, pushing himself to his feet as he approached. She needed to know. “Just, just hear me out, please. The TVA, the Time-Keepers, all of it is wrong. You, all of you here, you’re all variants.”

The expression that drained her face stole all colour from it also, the way her eyes widened lightly, the look in them, he never wanted to see such a distraught expression on her face again. “The Time-Keepers took you all, and they erased your memories. You came from Midgard, from Earth. Silvia can access those memories through her enchantment.”

[Name] only stared at him, he moved closer, slowly bringing his hands to cup her face. “[Name], please. You have to believe me on this. Please.” He wanted nothing more than for her to believe him, to trust his words. During his time on the run, she was on his mind throughout it all. One of the two TVA members who trusted him, cared for him. And now he was at risk of losing her. He didn’t want that. He did not want to lose another thing. He already lost his timeline, his family, everything.

“I was stolen? But I’ve been here since I was created. I don’t have a-”

“That’s the thing. They kidnapped you, they wiped all your memories, you were not created here, you are human. You have a life on Earth, not here.” He could see the confusion swirling in her eyes, a figure wandering aimlessly through thick fog, attempting to find her way through the mist but to no avail. Trying to discover previous paintings on a canvas wiped clean. She looked so lost. So scared and confused.

He pulled her closer, holding her, and now feeling the light tremble in her form. She simply leant forward, resting her head on his shoulder, her mind still processing all of this. After all this time, after everything she had been told and done, she was a variant. Just like the ones they had captured and reset. The ones they pruned. Killed.

She was one of them.

Her arms moved, holding onto him for fear that she will be swallowed by the ground, feeling weak as if all energy had been stripped from her body. He kept his hold on her, secure and safe, protective almost.

“How can I trust you?” She asked, the tremble in her body also carried in her words.

“You are going to have to.”

#loki #loki x reader #marvel #marvel loki #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #loki spoilers #loki episode three #loki episode four #loki series

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mae-gi-writes · 3 years

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My Heart Beats | Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Synopsis:

You're dying, all because of the love that Seo Changbin has for someone else.

Genre: hanahaki au! Lots of angst, little fluff, Chan is a good wingman. Happy ending!

----

There was a lot of coughing, at first.

You weren't exactly sure why your throat scratched so badly that it burned like it was on fire, only downed a few cough drops with the hope that it'd go away after a few days. You told yourself that maybe if you waited it out long enough, it would go away by itself and you wouldn't spend nights lying in bed, practically curling in on yourself as you tried to keep the coughing to a minimum.

It didn't get better.

Of course, the first few times you'd cough into your sleeve, your close friend and classmate Changbin would ask you if you were sick -- with that disgruntled frown that only you could decipher as concern -- but you had merely shaken your head then before batting away his worries with a brush of your fingers.

It had escaped your notice, how your throat clamped up whenever he was close by, how you would suddenly erupt whenever he would play with your hair or brush some dust off your shoulder.

"Seriously Y/N, go see a doctor or something," he said one day after your Photograohy seminar where you had spent three quarters of it muffling your coughs. That had garnered you numerous dirty looks from your classmates, "maybe you're developing an allergy."

"It doesn't come all the time," you replied breathlessly while plastering a smile on your face.

He wasn't convinced.

And then, when you stumbled upon him in the cafeteria sitting across from a girl you'd seldom met before, that had been the last straw.

You had barely managed to make it to the toilet, hand cupped against your mouth and running like your life depended on it, stumbling into the nearest stall to empty the contents of your stomach.

Only, it wasn't.

You watched, horrified, as blood poured out of your mouth like a gushing waterfall filled with bits and pieces of broken branches, plant stems, petals. You couldn't tear your eyes away from it no matter how much you tried, chest heaving and breaths ragged as you gazed at the mess in the toilet bowl with the slow realization sinking into you.

Hanahaki.

You were dying. You were dying because plants were now growing into your heart, taking over your lungs and your body.

That was when you got a second realization:

That you were in love with Seo Changbin. And he was clearly in love with someone else.

------

"Long time no see.”

You jolted from your seat, head whipping up and partly expecting to see the said raven-haired man that you had been avoiding most week to be standing there with a scowl on his face. Instead, you were genuinely surprised to find one of his closest friends instead.

Chan looked down at you with furrowed brows and from the way his eyes skimmed over your features, you guessed he was seeing the side effects of the hanahaki just as much as you were, “jesus, Y/N. Are you sick or something?”

“Bad cold,” you faked a laugh, quickly scrambling to cover the book title currently spread open for him to see, but Chan hd quick reflexes, arm sneaking underneath yours to yank the said book out of your arms and ignoring your protests.

He read the title once, twice. Flipped a few pages, frown growing so deep on his face that his eyebrows were practically kissing at the centre, and you were about to make a joke out of it -- to make light of the situation -- when his eyes snapped back up to you. And what you saw in them caused all jokes to die upon your tongue.

“What is this, Y/N?”

You tried to ignore the shakiness in his alto, or the emotion blazing through his dark irises. Your chest hurt with that same familiar ache you had grown accustomed to over the days, causing you to look away as you murmured out your reply:

"What it says it is.”

It was useless to lie. Chan was sharp. There’d be no use lying to him.

He sucked in a breath and you quickly scrambled out, “don’t tell Changbin.”

Brown orbs boring into yours for a few seconds too long, you forced yourself to return his gaze with a pleading look of your own, and it seemed like he figured it out for himself for he merely dropped his eyes before looking away.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he murmured, “It’s Changbin.”

Your head bowed. Your silence said everything. His breath hitched, grasping your shoulder so that you turned to face the wetness of his eyes as tears brimmed at the corners, “stop it. You can stop it right? There’s got to be a cure for that now.”

Oh, how it would be wonderful to believe there was even a cure. But the only solution was surgery and even that came with its risks. Plus, extracting the hanahaki from your heart meant to erase Changbin altogether from your life and as much as it killed you literally to be existing in this state every single day, you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving behind all the memories that you and Changbin had built together.

Thankfully, Chan wasn’t forceful in his argument when you pleaded that you felt more comfortable dealing with this alone. He did, however, constantly check up on you on days where you looked especially gaunt, when the pouches under your eyes were so blue he feared that they would swallow up your whole face, or when he noticed how you left your lunch untouched, opting to sip silently on your soy milk instead.

“Who is she?” You had asked once, your soprano barely above a raspy whisper, as your eyes trailed over Changbin’s figure leaning in towards what the girl was saying.

“Her name’s Yoreum,” Chan had mumbled through mouthfuls of his meat sandwich, “apparently she’s a transfer student from Japan, and very interested in Changbin.”

“Good for him, I guess,” you mumbled.

A minute later, you excused yourself to the bathroom, palm halting the trickle of blood from your lips.

You weren’t exactly certain how this disease worked. Was it due to your inner feelings? Or did it depend on Changbin’s? Or both? The books you read had told you endless tales of varying consequences and different situations, which didn’t help the matter in the least. In fact, it left you even more in the dark, if that was possible.

You knew that it would be impossible to avoid Seo Changbin forever for once he set his mind to something, it was a force not to be reckoned with. You had kept up a stream of excuses about being sickly and that it was exams season. But all your efforts were futile after a few weeks when you spotted the said man standing at the front of your apartment complex, tapping his feet to keep the coldness of spring at bay.

You had half a mind to run away, drop everything and just make a dash for it. But Changbin spotted you before you could do anything and he closed the gap between you two in less than three strides, quickly encapsulating you in a hug.

Your breath hitched. The itch was back, your throat tingling like crazy. You paused for a few seconds and allowed his scent to overwhelm you, before pushing him away to cough into your sleeve.

“Damn Y/N. Chan was right. You really are sick.”

"Wha--" you tried to force the itch down your throat, "are you doing--"

Your body jerked as you felt it give way to the pain that twisted your torso in two and you turned away just in time to clamp a hane over your mouth as you coughed like there was no tomorrow.

Warm liquid splattered over your palm. The metallic stench of blood filled your nostrils.

"Y/N," Changbin made a move towards you, "are you--"

Holding up a hand, you felt him halt as another round of coughs ripped through your already-dry throat. You didn't realize that your legs gave out at some point until a pair of hands quickly grasped the back of your elbows, and though you wished to push him away, pain rippled through your body as you all but collapsed to the floor, blood and branches and petals splattering onto the ground.

You didn't have to look at his face to know that his body was tensed in shock, frozen as he took in the sight before him. Scrambling for words, they all died at the back of your throat when you glanced over at his clenched jaw, the slow reality that blooms through his dark pupils.

Silence filled the air.

“What--” he choked up, “is this?”

You opened your mouth to answer, closed it when you couldn’t find anything. Before you, Changbin’s fists curled, clenching at his sides as he surveyed the mess of blood and dried up flowers.

"Tell me this is not what I think it is,” he whispered.

Still, you said nothing.

“Tell me!” He bellowed.

“Changbin, I--” another round of coughs made your body twist on itself as you struggled to answer him, maybe lie through your teeth even though it was too late, “I can explain--”

“Explain what?! That you’re dying?!” he swivelled around with barely restrained anger and that made you flinch back, “you kept this from me?! Why?! Tell me Y/N--”

But his shouts were drowned out by your endless coughing and heaving, leaning forward to choke out a few petals dripping with fresh blood onto the ground. Your mind was swirling with excuses, trying to come up with the stupidest reasons as to why your body was behaving this way and maybe telling him that it was all due to someone else who couldn’t love you back. But the more you tried to fight the urge to throw up, the more you kept on gagging on your own blood.

Arms came around your middle to lift you up, Changbin’s scent surrounding your figure as he managed to haul you to your feet and half-carry you inside your flat. It wasn’t until your body was laid down on the couch that you managed to utter out a soft “thank you”, which sounded more like an apology than anything else.

Changbin grunted, momentarily going out of your peripheral and returning with a sac plastic, in case you had anything more to cough out, which warmed your heart despite the cold harsh truth lingering before your very eyes. A truth that you knew had to be verbalized, sooner or later.

“Who is it?”

His question caught you off-guard. Glancing up, your throat constricted at the way he gazed back at you, eyes dark and glossy with emotion.

Dropping your head to the floor, you mumble out something incoherent. You wished he could drop it.

“Who is it?” he growled.

Your jaw clenched. There was no escaping him, nothing could salvage the situation. So you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, before finally looking up at the raven-haired man sitting opposite you.

“It’s you.”

His anger dissolved into shock. He stared you down, mouth parted, for a few seconds.

When he spoke next, his words were barely above a murmur, “what?”

He was staring at you as if you had just grown out a second head. But as much as you felt like flinching away, you kept your eyes steady, even when they welled up with tears, even when they burned from the way you caught sight of his expression slowly crumbling as the realization sank into his bones.

“You’re joking,” he whispered mostly to himself as he shook his head, “no. It’s not--What? It can’t be me, unless--”

“I love you.”

His eyes snapped back to you and your breath stilled in your throat. The buzzing silence in the air twisted, thick with tension and from the remnants of your words that echoed in the distance between your bodies.

“But--” Changbin opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. His frown deepened and his silence conveyed the inner conflict going on through his brain as you sat there with your world crumbling apart, wishing that he didn’t leave you for the last few days of your existence.

You’d be gone all too soon. And then, and then life would go on. Changbin would go on. After all, he deserved to be loved by someone whom his heart desired.

“I love you,” you repeated, the words breaking against your parted lips and tearing at your heart with every shaky inhale. You squeezed your eyes shut before burying your face into one of the couch pillows in hopes that this moment would just disappear, in hopes that this was all a well-constructed nightmare.

It felt like an eternity before you heard the rough alto of Changbin’s voice. It was choked, like he was having a hard time keeping himself together and though you wished to do something to ease his pain, you also knew that if you took a look at him, you’d crumble in seconds.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The sentence echoed through your ears, pain tugging at your heartstrings with every second that passed.

Without looking at him, you answered in a whisper, “because it’s not your fault.”

"Not my fault?” His voice rose in anger, “not my fault? How is this not my fault? You love me, you’re dying because you love me. How--Fuck Y/N! How the fuck am I supposed to live with that?! I--”

“Please,” your broken soprano flies out between you like a needle that hits him straight in the heart, “please. Not now.”

If there was any reason why you hadn’t wanted to tell the said man straight up about the hanahaki was exactly for that reason; you loathed the idea of having Changbin beat himself up for the feelings that tormented your heart. It wasn’t his fault, but knowing the kind of person that he was, you were certain he’d feel guilty about not returning your feelings.

But that wasn’t what you wanted. Not just some half-hearted love. Not a love that got drawn out from pity. You didn’t want him to love you, if that meant that he lost himself in the process.

All you wanted, prayed for, was his happiness.

And that wasn’t you, as harsh as that was of a pill to swallow.

------

You woke up the next day to find Changbin still on the couch, sleeping where you had left him last evening to hide in your bedroom. When you’d gently lulled him out of sleep, he’d proceeded to make some breakfast while chatting about the most random things and quite frankly, ignoring the elephant in the room. It came to the point where you had snapped and asked what were his true intentions. To which he answered, as though it was the simplest solution:

“I’m spending some time with my best friend,” he’d glanced over at you from his breakfast plate filled with eggs and sausages, “isn’t that obvious?”

“But--”

“Y/N, you’re not the only one who cares about this relationship,” Changbin looked away, before looking back with tears glimmering at the corners of his eyes, “if I can’t change my heart, then I’ll change the way I spend my time.”

You tried again, “I don’t want your pity--”

“Unless you want me to feel guilty for the rest of my life.”

“You’re..." you watched him, unsure of what exactly was going on inside that head of his. Sometimes, his logic didn’t add up.This was one of those times, “now you’re making me feel guilty.”

“Do you not want me around?”

It seemed that your condition might have shaken him up more than you initially thought. His presence had always been a constant and yet up until now, he’d been busier, schedules more packed with activities and socializing with his other course mates whenever he had blocks of free time. He’d lock himself in his studio alone whenever inspiration struck and though you had always respected his personal space, there was no denying that some part of you missed him deeply. But it wasn’t like you could tell him that, knowing that it would merely be selfish of you to do so.

“That’s not what I--”

“Thought so,” and he got up from the table, signalling that the conversation was a case closed and dusted before directing himself towards the sink. You’d only dipped your head back towards your plate, trying hard not to let the heat colour your cheeks the way it always did whenever you found your best friend attractive. It had been getting harder and harder to stop yourself from reacting, and now that your feelings were out in the open, you hoped that Changbin would play along and ignore them altogether.

Now though, now was different. Changbin actively sought you out; in the library he’d bring you cappuccinos with almond milk and an extra coffee shot just as you liked before sitting down to ‘study’ opposite you, he’d call you up at the most random times to chill at your flat even if that meant basking in hours of comfortable silence while you worked side by side. He’d even drag you to the studio with him, adamant on making you listen through his countless tracks with excuses that he needed a second opinion.

"I have questionable taste. You of all people should know that,” you would argue whenever he’d fight to place the headphones over your ears. You let him though, enjoying the warmth of his figure whenever he leaned over yours to fiddle with the headset.

“Exactly why I want you to listen,” Changbin’s voice was muffled and yet, the way his breaths brushed against your ear caused your stomach to tingle.

You wished to believe that his attention was intentional, that it came to him as naturally as breathing. But you knew it wasn’t. Because as soon as he’d walk away from you, you had to rush to the nearest bathroom to cough up more and more flower stems ceremoniously.

And it was okay, really. It was bearable. You were happy enough to have him for a little while, even though you knew it would last up until the day you closed your eyes for the last time.

Once, he’d invited you over to make sushi -- he’d claimed beforehand that he was a good sushi roller and that this was just an excuse to flaunt his skills -- and he’d dragged you out to the supermarket with him, threatening that you wouldn’t be getting any of the salmon if you didn’t. So you’d reluctantly followed, complaining along the way as you trailed after him like a five-year-old child.

It was when you were in the middle of looking at the salmon that you were suddenly overtaken with that familiar burn in your throat. Doubling over and trying to breathe as evenly as possible, you turned away from the food display just in time to cough up blood in your palm.

Changbin was at your side in an instant, hands circling your middle while murmuring his concern in your ears while you tried forcing down the pain slowly brimming over your mouth. At this point, you hadn’t realized that your best friend had slid you into his arm while he’d yelled at everyone to get the fuck out of the way, not until you were met with the outside air and was suddenly slammed by a round of coughing that just wouldn’t stop.

You felt Changbin’s hands against your back, stroking soft circles as you coughed and coughed and coughed. Blood splattered over your clothes, on the ground, dribbled down your chin in a stream filled with flower petals and stems that grated against your lips.

The more you coughed, the more flowers appeared. You noticed tulips, roses, daisies as well now. Those were new, you thought bitterly as you heaved.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since, nor how you found yourself pressed against Changbin’s chest with your head tucked under his chin. He held you softly, tenderly, and you didn’t have the self-restraint to stop the silent tears from dribbling down your chin.

You loved him.

You didn’t want to die.

“That’s a pretty big bouquet you just made,” came his soft murmur in the shell of your ear, causing a faint smile to twitch at your lips. Indeed, the array of flowers littering the ground would’ve been nothing less of beautiful, if not for the large amount of blood that you had just lost.

“Changbin,” you breathed out weakly.

“Hm?”

"I’m...” your head lolled against his neck when you tried to look up at him but failed, “I’m sorry.”

His body stilled. Then, he said, “what for?”

“For taking away your time,” your voice was thick with emotion.

“You’re not. I spend my time however I want,” his hold tightened, “if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

Still. You felt bad. You opened your mouth to apologize once more, only for him to beat you to it by pressing a finger to your lips.

"Don't," he said, "apologize."

Fire had seeped from his finger to litter across your cheeks and you were glad that your face was hidden from view, for you were bound to be the colour of a fire engine, no doubt about that.

Later, when your heart had calmed and your throat had been soothed with hot chocolate, he'd pulled you out into the rooftop and proceeded to sit you down onto his jacket so that you could gaze out at the cityscape.

"Beautiful," you murmured and took a sip of your drink, allowing the warmth to spread through your limbs. Spring weather was ambiguous that way; sometimes cold, sometimes bearable.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

Changbin took a sip of his beer, "is there anything you'd like to do?"

"What do you mea--"

It dawned on you then. Oh.

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

He angled his head towards you, "will you tell me?"

A smile graced your features, though you hoped he didn't notice how it didn't reach your eyes, "sure."

All you wanted though, all your yearned for, was for him.

Not that you'd ever tell him that.

A little later during that same week, you had taken the chance to ask him about the girl he loved. He'd brought you over to the Han River to show you how to skateboard and as you sat in the grass admiring the sun setting over the horizon, you decided to buckle up the courage and blurt out what was haunting your mind for days on end.

"What's her name?"

"Huh?" Changbin had looked at you like you'd really gone crazy then, before you prompted him with, "the girl you like. What's her name?"

He tried not to squirm in embarrassment, and failed as he averted his eyes, "i don't like her," you heard him mumble under his breath, "I just think she's cute."

"Yeah yeah. What's her name?"

"Why should I tell you?" He threw you a scowl, "so that you can make fun of me?"

"It's one of the things on my list."

"What list?"

"List of things I want to do," you propped your chin into your hands and grinned teasingly, "and that's asking you about the girl you like."

He let out an annoyed sigh, "Yoreum."

"Wah, pretty name. What's she like?"

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Why not?" You pouted, "I'll cheer you on even in spirit."

"Don't," he snapped back so suddenly, "talk like that."

Blinking at his sudden change in demeanour, you decided it was wiser to drop the subject altogether, lest it agitated him more. Changbin was known for his moody temperament but he'd been quite generous with you these past few weeks. Maybe because he knew that there was going to be an end. The thought caused another ache to reverberate through your chest and you looked away, not knowing on which foot to dance on for the rest of the night.

As you were walking back home, you felt his eyes constantly glance at the way you kept on blowing air into your hands, "you cold?"

"Huh? Oh no, I--"

Too late, for his hand reached out to engulf yours, bringing it over to stuff it in his jacket. You stared at him for a full minute as your heart skipped a beat. What...was that?

It was cold. That's why. He was just trying to be a gentleman, your brain kept on reasoning with you.

Your heart though, was saying otherwise. Maybe he likes you! Maybe he’s realized that--

You coughed. Once, twice. And then, you were falling to your knees as petals fell onto your shirt and dropped stained your clothes, your lap. Everything. Metallic rust engulfed your nose and you gratefully accepted the tissue that your best friend offered you.

“You good?” his breath brushed against your cheek, concerned orbs ablaze.

You wished you could get over him. You wished you could steer your heart away.

You nodded weakly, wiping away the remnants of blood and wishing that you could die right then and there from the embarrassment of being so openly weak and disgusting when he was around.

But he merely grabbed the tissue from your hold and proceeded to wipe away at the corner of your lips. Your heart tugged in your chest, relishing in his gentle touches as you allowed yourself to bask in his attention. Even for a little while.

There was no way you could forget Seo Changbin. Even if you tried.

-----

"How are you really?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile dancing across your lips as you exited the library with Chan in tow, “you’re such a worry-wuss.”

“Hey, I’m asking out of concern,” Chan chides in that fatherly manner of his that always made you feel safe somehow, “I never see you around anymore because Changbin steals you away.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous,” you reached out to ruffle his hair before he had the chance to duck away, “you’re still my secret favourite. But don’t tell Changbin that. Otherwise he’ll just sulk for days.”

“You make it sound so tempting,” Chan wriggles his brows in a teasing manner while you strode towards the parking lot. It was a late Friday evening and you had planned to meet up at the nearest Burger joint with Changbin and some of the other boys whom you hadn’t seen in a while and it was no surprise that you had decided to take advantage of Chan a your driver for the night.

“Who else is coming with us?”

“Changbin said he’d come but you know how he is,” Chan re-adjusted his backpack over his shoulder, “maybe we should call him if he doesn’t show up by the time we get to the car.”

Evidently, there was no sign of the said raven-haired man as you walked up to Chan’s red Mazda. That prompted you to call him, only to turn and spot his figure by the main flight of stairs with the girl you now knew as Yoreum.

You waited for that ache. For that burning sensation like alcohol was slipping down your throat, hands clenching around your phone.

The pain was there, you could feel it under your tongue.

But you didn’t cough. Nothing pushed at the back of your trachea.

You blinked, perplexed for a moment. Maybe this wasn’t Yoreum after all?

Or maybe Changbin was forcing himself to suppress his feelings. For your sake?

That wouldn’t make sense. Changbin had said so himself. He wasn’t the kind of person to be forcing himself into situations. That’s what you loved the most about him, after all.

You tried not to ponder over it too much during dinner, hand unconsciously going to your chest and feeling your heart slowly beating under your clothed chest. Weird, you couldn’t help thinking. Why?

Maybe you were dying. Maybe you were going to die.

Or maybe...just maybe, you were slowly moving on.

Impossible.

"So are you dating her or not?”

It was one of your friends-- Felix-- who brought you back to reality, blinking before realizing that the question was aimed at none other than the man whom had preoccupied your thoughts over the last hour.

Changbin leaned over, placing his elbows on the table as he sipped his beer, “we’re not dating.”

“I thought you liked her,” Minho pointed out.

“Can we not talk about this now?” you would’ve missed the way Changbin’s dark orbs flickered over to you if you hadn’t been paying attention. But you did, and that hurt a little bit more than you liked to admit. You loved him, but that didn’t mean that you wanted to know nothing of his personal life either.

Nevertheless, you decided that keeping your mouth shut would not hurt either, knowing that it might trigger some more coughing on your part. Nobody knew after all, that you were slowly being eaten away by plants growing in-between your lungs.

More oftentimes than not, Chan would urge you to go see a doctor, “just to see what the condition’s like,” he’d press you constantly, “you never know. Maybe it's getting better. Maybe you're getting better."

"There's only one explanation for that, Chan. And that would be that Changbin doesn't love Yoreum anymore," you smiled faintly, "and we both know that's not true."

Still, you couldn't help hoping that your condition was a sign that maybe you still had a chance at life. Part of you was curious as to whether there had been a change in Changbin's heart -- maybe even in yours -- but there was no denying the fact that it would be misplaced, especially in the context.

As you found yourself spending more and more time in Changbin's presence, you couldn't help but wonder whether he was pushing Yoreum aside just to accomodate you, and that thought was enough to make you feel guilty.

"Why don't you invite her?" You asked aloud once, when Changbin dragged you along for some bubble tea in the late hours of the evening.

He’d stared at you silently for a solid minute.

"Why would I do that?"

His question threw you off. You shot him a look as the said shop came into view, "isn't it obvious?"

"No."

You stopped in mid-walk, scowled at him, "I don't want you compromising your time."

"I'm not."

"But don't you want to spend time with her?"

At this point, his expression had morphed from confusion to infuriation and if you didn't know better, you'd say he was getting agitated.

He looked away, "I want to spend time with you."

Your heart stuttered, breath suddenly catching in your throat at his blunt statement. You hadn't expected him to be so forward about it, albeit the fact that he was merely speaking in terms of friendship. So you decided to drop the subject for now and kept on pondering it over in your head as you laid to rest that night. Knowing him, those set of words probably didn’t mean much. To you though? It meant everything.

You tried not to let your heart get ahead of yourself.

When it got warm enough, it was Changbin’s idea to drive you up to the coast when you had mentioned that you enjoyed listening to the sound of the ocean waves after a long, hard week. Especially after a long, hard week. It was no surprise that you were touched at his gesture, yet finding it bittersweet how he wasn’t exactly yours to lose even when he was right here, by your side.

There was something nostalgic about knowing that your days were counted, and while you had been feeling a little bit better these past few days, your questions had been answered by the internet; that this was just the calm before the storm.

In other words, there was more chance of you dying than living through that rare disease.

“Say Changbin,” you spoke aloud when you descended from the car, a pack of beer tucked under your arm and a bag of snacks in his while making your way towards the golden beach glimmering in the afternoon sun.

“Hm?” you felt his dark orbs on your face.

You kept looking forward, feeling the sand slip through toes in bliss, “thank you,” you murmured, “for doing this.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. Then, replied, “don’t thank me. You make yourself sound like a charity case.”

Isn’t that what I am? You couldn’t help but think to yourself with bitterness. Settling over a comfortable spot and curling your knees up to your chest, you gratefully accepted the cold beer that Changbin handed to you -- after he’d cracked it open like the gentleman that he was -- and let out a soft breath, eyes finding solace in the waves lapping up the shore.

“How’s your coughing?” he broke the comfortable silence.

“It’s actually not bad,” you started tracing circles with the tip of your index finger in the sand, the roughness of particles slightly stinging your skin, “I haven’t had a bad spell since that supermarket incident.”

He hummed in response, took a sip of his beer, but didn’t say anything in response. The comfortable silence washed over you and you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of the sun prickling at your skin, at the scent of salt in the air with every wave that brushed forward with the current.

This was the place to be. For a quiet, waking moment, you could imagine that your life was endless. That you’d live till the very end, die old and wrinkly and with a full stomach.

Your fingers unconsciously clenched around your beer bottle. If only.

If only.

“I know why,” Changbin suddenly blurted out.

Your head swivelled towards him, eyebrow raised, “huh?”

“I know why,” he hesitated, “why you’re not coughing as much anymore.”

Something stirred in your chest as you stared him down, cogs already turning in your brain. What was he getting at?

“I--” was it your imagination or were his cheeks redder than they had been a few minutes ago? You kept on staring him down as he struggled to find the right words, stumbled over them with the clumsiness of a five year old, “I--I realized something. Ever since.”

“Ever since?”

“Ever since you told me you loved me.”

If he was blushing, then you had flushed the colour of a fire engine. God, why did he have to put it so bluntly?

“What--”You swallowed thickly while turning away to gulp down some beer, if not to cool yourself down, “what did you realize?”

And that was when you felt the warmth of his fingers ghost over your chin. He cupped it in his hold, turning your face over so that you had no choice but to clash eyes as he slowly traced over your features with a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. That only caused your confusion to grow by tenfold.

“What?” You spluttered out, not really used to the closeness of his mouth that was hovering dangerously close. You hadn’t realized that his other hand had trailed down to your side until you felt him pull you a little closer, making your breath hitch slightly.

“Cha--Changbin? What--What are you doing?” You all but squeaked out. This was unknown territory. This was Changbin, and he...

He loved someone else.

So why was he cradling you in his hold as though you were the finest piece of silk that he feared would tear apart with the slightest brusque gesture?

And why, oh why was his orbs swimming with that unidentifiable emotion that made your stomach churn and butterflies to erupt through your middle and tickle at your abdomen? Why was he looking at you like that? Why?

Your questions were soon interrupted by the sensation of his mouth on yours.

It was warm, and soft, and tentative, and no sooner did you blink that it was over, leaving you to gape at him like a stupid fish out of the water. Changbin, meanwhile, kept on gazing at you, as if gauging your reaction.

The only thing that managed to make it out of your lips was, “What?”

He allowed his lips to respond in his stead. He kissed your next breath away. And the next. And the next. Until your heart almost leaped out of your chest, until your body felt like it was tingling with electricity all over and until you couldn’t help but kiss back slightly, jumping as he let out a soft noise of approval.

When you pulled apart for air, his dark pupils kept on darting back and forth between your eyes and your open mouth and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he was resisting the urge to kiss you once more.

“Changbin?” you whispered, “please tell me...” tears started brimming through your eyes, “please tell me this isn’t...just because--”

“No,” he looked horrified, “no, no Y/N. Of course not--”

“Then why are you doing this?” you were slowly pulling out of his grasp, reality crashing through you like waves, “why are you giving me hope when--when you love someone else--”

“But that’s it, Y/N,” Changbin’s hands scrambled to find yours, “I don’t love anyone else. I--I thought I did. Maybe I did, because you wouldn’t have coughed so much if not. But then--Things changed, I don’t know. When you told me you were dying, it--it scared me. It scared me so fucking much, Y/N,” emotion clogged up his throat, eyes turning just as wet as yours. It wasn’t every day that you got to see Changbin without his walls up, “I didn’t--I don’t want to lose you. I tricked myself into believing I was into someone else. But when that--that happened, I--” he shook his head, eyes squeezing shut as though forcing himself to forget the pain etched into memory, “I realized I was just trying to run away from what I really wanted, all along.”

He brought your hands up slowly to his lips before he pressed a soft, chaste kiss upon your knuckles, “I’m sorry,” he croaked out, “I never wanted to hurt you. Seeing you, so much blood. There was so much blood every time you--”

He couldn’t help but burst into soft, broken sobs and your heart broke to watch him struggle to catch a hold of himself. Arms winding around him to pull him into your embrace, your hands went to stroke the back fo his head as the man in your arms cried like you’d never seen him cry before. It was a scene that literally tore your heart out and wrenched it sideways; to see Changbin in so much pain that he’d had to hold in whenever he was by your side and seeing you hurt. It pained you, it hurt you. So much so that tears silently cascaded down your cheeks, pressing yourself a little closer to him for comfort.

He calmed down after a while, slowly relaxing into your hold so that you were the one holding him close to your chest as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. The day was long gone, replaced by the evening hues of deep blue mixing in with vivid purple where the sun met the darkening sky, and though there was a slight chill in the air, Changbin’s strong arms looped around your waist did the trick to keep you warm.

“Don’t leave.”

He called out your name and you hummed in response, awaiting for his next set of words while playing with his hair. The reality of the situation had slowly sunk onto your shoulders when you’d held him in your arms; that he loved you, loved you enough that you had stopped coughing altogether.

His voice was laced with so much raw pain that your throat clogged up with emotion.

“I won’t,” you murmured back, knowing that deep in your heart, you’d try your best to keep pushing forward, to keep loving him.

“Promise me,” he nuzzled his nose into your neck, the action causing your heart to flutter. Then, lifting himself up so that he was hovering above you once more, you couldn’t help but admire the way the moonlight bathed the planes of his face. He looked softer, more ethereal in that light.

Your fingers went up, cradling his cheek in your palm, “I promise.”

And then he kissed you some more; a silent promise, a reassurance, a way to prove to you that he loved you just as much as you loved him, a way to show you that his heart only beat when you were around.

His heart would beat for you, just like yours did.

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kannra21 · 3 years

Text

Sniperhaul fanfic

ˡᵐᵃᵒ ᶦ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉˡᶦᵉᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶦ'ᵐ ᵈᵒᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᶦˢ

Overhoe finally broke out of Tartarus after a very long time. However, he couldn't have done it without the help of a certain villain mistress. 😏 Who's she and why did she choose to help this terrible (x2) man? Find out bellow.

characters: overhaul (chisaki kai) x sniper lady

word count: 3k

warnings: angst, past memories, handless overhaul, hurt, comfort, gangs, yakuza, just girl taking care of her mans

notes: I'd like to thank the person responsible for proofreading this work bc I'm supposed to keep their identity a secret. 😎 Thank you once again! And of course, the manga and characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi. @meefal you were excited to see the final product so here you go, hope you like it. 🖤

✂-------------------------------------------------------

Overhaul couldn't remember how long he'd been there, he'd lost count weeks ago. The only thing he knew was that he was in "Tartarus", a prison located 5km off the coast of the Mainland. It may function like a conventional prison, but in reality, those who're deemed a severe threat toward the safety of the nation were locked up and monitored closely, regardless of whether their sentence has been decided on yet. The facility was divided into 6 levels, where the potential threat level of criminals was deemed "higher" the further underground you go. It's a prison where, once you enter, there's no chance of leaving.

He sat there in his cell, B10 being the lowest level in solitary confinement. It was too cold for his head to function and too dark for his eyes to see, with the small window above the prison doors being his only source of light. There was also an opening where prisoners received their meals, but considering that he lost his hands, the guards could easily enter without worrying too much for their well-being. They'd leave whatever they offered that day and give him a disgusted look before locking the doors after themselves. He couldn't see his reflection nor touch his face, he probably looked like crap by now. His skin was itching and he felt disoriented from all the germs occupying this space, it's been a while since he's gone out for some fresh air.

He was practically Quirkless and yet they locked him out in the worst, most dreadful place the isolation block had to offer. He couldn't even feed himself properly, he couldn't do anything by himself whatsoever. But there was only one thing left to him; he spent days and days thinking about pops, Chrono, yakuza and everything he could have if it weren't for those stupid heroes-- no, if it weren't for his plan that so grandiosely failed. It made him feel miserable, desperate even, and with grief soon followed acceptance. It was all his fault, and he needed to live with this burden for the rest of his life. Because of him, pops is still handicapped to the bed somewhere, wherever the heroes might have taken him.

He stood up and started beating the cell with his leg, curing his frustrations. He didn't know why he was doing it, it was irrational and he's hurting himself unnecessarily, but for some reason it made him feel lighter. At least he could transfer some of his inner pain to the outside world. Other criminals laughed at his patheticness, especially since they knew why the guards were allowed to enter his cell. They shouted that it was impossible to escape, but he wasn't trying to. He knew that it was useless a long time ago.

Midnight came and all the prisoners mostly fell asleep. Overhaul, however, couldn't sleep a wink. Because of the dark room he spent most of his days in, he lost his sense of time so he was pacing around, deep in thought. He couldn't dream of anything nice anyways.

"Can't fall asleep either?" a feminine voice could be heard from the other side. Wait. They allowed women here? What could she have possibly done to deserve such punishment?

He leaned his back on the doors and slid down to the floor, trying to find the right words.

"Yes." he sighed, enthusiasm lacking in his voice "But it's not like I need you to talk about my problems."

"Hm, whatever. Go beat your head against the bars. Fall unconscious, loser."

The man snorted, which might as well be his first time he ever did that.

"Well, this certainly sounds effective. It's not like I have anything to lose anyways."

"Hey." the tone of her voice was earnest, and it aroused further questions in his jumbled up head.

"What?"

"We're going to get out of here."

Is she being serious now? "Really? Because as far as I know, we're locked out here for good. We don't even know the severity of our sentences. They can do whatever they want with us."

"Not quite. You know that they're being supervised by 'The Hearts and Mind' party offshoots. They can’t do a thing to us as long as they have their heads to the pikes."

This might be true, but he didn't believe in anything the government's been telling them lately. It's only a matter of time before they switch their plans and play by their own rules, because stabbing people in the back was the only thing they've ever been good at.

"How did you end up here?"

Oh the long-awaited question. She wondered when he'd ask.

"It's not like I need you to talk about my problems."

He smiled, he liked this vicious side of hers. But he also realized that she could be nice as well because if that wasn't the case, she wouldn't spread promises of the escape. At least that's what he thought.

"Sorry about that."

"It's okay. We've all been here for a very long time, now weren't we? We lose our cool and act like total assholes."

"Direct and straight to the point I see." his deadpan voice could be heard from the other side of the bars.

"'Been raised this way, for the better or worse." it didn't sound like she was bragging, yet it felt like she was just talking about herself, honest and confident, to cover up what she felt was wrong. The incoming topic which she'd rather avoid.

The villainess didn't want to open up about her past, so she just answered his question.

"I killed people beyond counting, following AFO's orders. He always wished to become the world's greatest demon lord and thus promised us enormous change in the hero society. So in order to achieve that, he needed his underlings. And that's how I ended up here."

"You were loyal till the end."

"You know what they say; there can be no progress nor achievement without certain sacrifice."

Wise beyond her years and just as sad. He wondered how her face looked like, how the world's been treating her.

"I had my own sacrifices as well."

"Do you regret them?"

...

"I do."

Now it was her turn to snort "Really? And I thought that people situated this low couldn't have regrets. You remember what they said about us. 'Beasts in human clothing', 'Simply dreadful beings'."

He felt insulted, maybe the things she said were true but it's not like he was anything similar to these pigs he shared the same air with, unfortunately.

"I regret hurting the person important to me. The old man who once took me in when I was very young. He was the infamous boss of Shie Hassaikai."

Something clicked in her, it's such a small world they're living in, "Yakuza? I know you guys. We used to trade with you back in the days."

"Todou Gang?"

"You said it."

"But... you were a force to be reckoned with. One day you just collapsed and not a single trace could be found. According to certain sources, there was no way anyone could determine the exact cause of your downfall. So what happened?"

"I killed them all."

...

"AFO told me to kill them to prove my loyalty to him and, of course, to make sure that there was no one I could turn to other than himself."

For some questionable reasons, and he didn't dare to admit that it was empathy he felt towards a random stranger and a former gang member he shared some history with, Overhaul wanted to fill the silence that lingered between them. Perhaps, because he felt guilty for making her reveal more than what she initially intended.

"I used pops' niece, a 6-year-old girl who had an extraordinary Quirk; it allowed her to rewind a person's body back to a certain state. That means she could put a body back to before it was injured or before the person even developed a Quirk. With that, I wanted to create a Quirk-erasing drug to get rid of the Quirk society altogether and to make sure that yakuza could rise once again. I cut her skin every day to take blood samples and to test her regenerative abilities. However, pops didn't approve of it, so I handicapped him to the bed and planned on waking him up the moment I realized my plan, to make him proud of the achievement. Unfortunately, it didn't play out as I wanted and I never reached him."

The silence followed and the woman wore a disheartening smile on her face. It's not the answer she expected, she didn't ask for another sad story from another messed up person she's met in her life. But the intentions were pure and for her, it was good enough.

"We both fought for something only to lose it all, huh?" she laughed, but it was prominent in her tone that it was bittersweet.

"At least you're brought here in one piece."

"At least you can still revive your parent."

Were they comforting each other? Were they jealous of each other? Were they wallowing in self-pity? They couldn't tell. The only thing they certainly could was the embarrassment they felt from the moment they realized that some of the prisoners were eavesdropping and making fun of their vulnerabilities. See? That's what they hated the most about opening up about themselves; they were worried about their feelings being perceived as a joke. The only way to protect themselves was to rise up the walls and never let anyone get closer, except they didn't regret exchanging a word or two, as long as it was the two of them.

The next day, 8:34PM Mainland-side entrance, the guardians of 'The Bronze Gate' announced a code red security lockdown. Panic and shouting could be heard from across the hall and the security alarm announced the potential danger.

"Close any and all passageways on each floor. All workers are to enforce strict measures to maintain order."

"The surveillance system is down! It seems like we've been hit by some sort of EMP attack!"

Static waves were spreading around the metal frames and the prison doors of the isolation block unlocked. Overhaul could hear the commotion outside and the villains leaving their cells in a hurry, but as much as he tried, he couldn't push the heavy doors open.

"3 seconds until we're back online- wait... What the... With the system down we can't monitor the inside!"

"Nice, 3 seconds be damned." he beat the door with his legs, pushed the surface with his shoulders, leaned all of his weight on the godforsaken thing just so it could finally open. Nothing. It seems like he lost a couple of pounds during his stay here. He couldn't believe his eyes, this couldn't be happening to him. After all this time of patient waiting and hoping to meet pops once again, it turns out he'd be the only one still trapped and all because he didn't have any hands. He panicked, he really couldn't decide on what to do next. But then he remembered-

"Go beat your head against the bars, loser."

That's it! This might be his only chance to escape! He didn't have much time left though, he could hear the shooting nearby so he definitely needed to hurry.

"The system won't come back on!! The ones in solitary confinement are breaking out!! Inside!"

"Control unit's on site!! Execute lockdown in the isolation block!"

"Follow procedure! If even one of them steps a foot outside their cell-"

"Fire!! Open fire!!"

Muscular threw whatever he could find in this messed up place back at them, excitement prominent in his big smile "You ain't gonna kill me with those puny toys! So how about you show me the exit already?!"

Other villains were joining him, still overwhelmed by the sudden freedom they've been given "Dammit... After all that time..."

"Meat..." Moonfish mumbled as he cut his opponents with his blade-like teeth.

The villain lady joined them in the run, still carefully examining her surroundings in case they were tricked into something, "The system isn't responding to my Quirk. 'Guess Tartarus really is falling."

As she was running down the corridor, she could hear beating noises coming from one of the doors. It sounded dull so the person must have been using their head.

"Eh, don't tell me the idiot actually listened to my advice. He must be desperate."

She came to the doors and turned the circular lock in a hurry. She really didn't want to stay in this place any longer, but she couldn't leave him behind either. It's not like she could use him for anything since he was basically handless and Quirkless so why was she doing it? She didn't have an answer. Maybe it was their talk from the other day, maybe because they were both gang members with a history, maybe because of her regrets and her wish to do something right for once. Or maybe because she was just this kind. Nah, this couldn't be it, she never did anything in her life that didn't require a certain purpose. She cast her heart aside a long time ago and did what was necessary for the accomplishment of the mission. It would be weird if she suddenly started using her heart again, now wouldn't it? She was AFO's personal assassin, there was simply no way.

He came out of the room with eyes wide in puzzlement. He was finally free and ready to find pops so he could possibly revive him and try to fix things as much as he could.

They looked at each other for the first time. They never said it aloud, godforbid, but they liked the other's eyes. And perhaps the eyes were a window to a person's soul, their broken souls, tormented by the life's temptations. They were still so young, probably in their twenties, and yet they looked older at the same time. Maybe because of the seriousness in their faces, their stronger stance, the way they defied their fate. They were destined to fall apart, no one would argue with it, but circumstances drove them to take action and rise from the bottomless chasm. And now they had each other.

"We need to get out of here," she stated and pulled him by the sleeve that hung loosely from his shoulder. They escaped Tartarus and raided a small shop near the coast to change clothes and to mingle into the public unnoticed. She quickly picked out a dress and threw herself at work while Overhaul was still standing by the shop display, looking out for the potential intruders.

He couldn't erase the thought of this being some sort of a really weird first date; the girl coming out of the stall and the guy examining her looks. He shook his head, he never had this kind of thoughts in his entire life. He needed to pull himself together.

The bob-hair came out and adjusted the ammo on her utility belt. He looked at her from the corner and she was stunning; intimidating with a tad bit of femininity in design. He stood there and watched how good it fit her curvy form. The thoughts wandering in his head sounded so wrong, terribly wrong. He needed to bring himself to stop.

"Oh right, I almost forgot." she took a shirt off the shelf and came to him, showing him the garment in her hands "You need a little help, right?"

"Sure.'' his voice was small and he stood still while she undid his buttons. Maybe from the outside he looked completely calm, but from the inside he was a complete mess. He looked at her face and wondered if she knew, the kind of effect she's having on him. She raised her head and he looked to the side, there's no way he could look her in the eyes at this point. He hoped she didn't notice.

"You like this one, don't you?" she asked, filling the awkward silence.

"Looks don't matter, the most important thing is to change and avoid getting caught." She looked annoyed. Great. He wanted to shove his head though the wall. Wait… Why was he thinking that?

"I choose the clothes I like. It makes me feel better in my skin."

"You look good in it."

She looked at him surprised and he quickly corrected himself "the dress looks good."

"Sure." she trailed off and put the new shirt over his shoulders. She could feel his muscles tensing. This was probably because of the cool air, she assured herself.

"Why did you break me out of Tartarus? It's not like I could be of any use to you."

She buttoned up his shirt and fixed the wrinkled parts on the garment, hand accidentally brushing over the left side of his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

Well... that was a surprise.

"I thought that maybe you could be of some use to the demon lord. Not Quirk-wise, but you may offer a valuable set of information. Something that the demon lord would appreciate greatly." she could feel it slowing down and her heart dropped just as much.

"But also because I... liked you."

He looked at her incredulously and she smiled. She pinched him to bring him out of the trance and he complained. "Don't be awkward, say something."

"I like you too... I, this is my first time I ever said this to anyone. It's weird."

She slapped him gently on the shoulder and he reached to take it but, yea, no hands.

"What the hell?"

"You're the one who's weird. But I guess that I like you this way." she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek "Ew, you should definitely shave though. No doubt about it."

The former yakuza boss swore; he'll never understand women. But for some reason he couldn't deny that he was particularly drawn to this one. He wondered if pops would approve of her.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #overhaul #chisaki kai #sniperhaul #shie hassaikai #ch 311 #bnha spoilers #bnha fic #crack ship #parody

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the-obelisk · 3 years

Text

Grief - Fae Collection

Loki x Reader

Summary: A mission gone wrong. The one where he had watched you fall at the hands of a mad man. And also, watched as you crumple in grief at the twist of fate.

“Unhand her or I will kill you myself, mortal.” Loki stepped forward in a protective stance, anger etched into his expression.

The older man looked at him, clutching you even tighter than before, taunting the trickster. “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t play fake hero with me, you—”

“What do you want from her?” Sam asked with urgency in his tone. He was unsure why he had taken you, with no attempt to engage with anyone else.

The man pressed his nose against your head, inhaling deeply. He smiled through the strands of your hair and stared at the two men before him sadistically, “She is my safety ticket out.”

He smirked. “And by the looks of it, his weakness.” He gestured to Loki.

Sam looked at him with determination, “You know you won’t make it out of here alive. Let her go.”

“But you won’t shoot me if she is my living shield, now would you?” He taunted Sam.

The raven-haired 50-year old scientist looked at you as you felt something sharp press against your back, “Now tell me, agent, what is that little light trick of yours?”

And in that moment all three of you had realized, the mission now posed a real problem.

And you were at the center of it.

The mission was simple: Full team onboard. Part of the team moved to search and secure the civilians, the others were tasked to take out the target.

And there you all were.

One hundred miles from the Avengers compound, it was suspected that Dr. William Endo was kidnapping recent runaways and outcasts from nearby small towns to experiment on.

Tony was sure it would be a day long mission. In and out, until it wasn’t.

Sick of the world over run by super-powered individuals, Endo wanted to harness and transfer those powers into what he deemed his own subservient human army that were effectively trained to combat any threat through one of Hydra’s old brainwashing techniques.

This time all super-powered.

And his end goal: To sell the individuals to highly volatile regimes and dealers on the black market.

Endo had seemed to have his contingency plan all in place. One wrong move and the shout of a code word, the entire compound could be effectively blown up from the bottom up.

Wanda, Natasha, Rhodey, Bucky, and Clint were moving in to secure those in the compound— the issue was that they were underground and the people held against their will were scattered, most likely still being experimented on.

Steve spoke over the comms, “Team Two, heat signatures in the left wing, second level. Thor, back up is needed in the courtyard.”

The team quickly moved. Meanwhile, you, Loki, and Sam had cornered the mastermind in the courtyard.

“Diversion.”

Sam projected his thought to you, and in that instant, you made a fast move to turn around and face Endo. You had planned to blast him with your light, but on the defense, he moved in retaliation.

Taking the blade he held against your back, the man pushed it through your upper abdomen as you conjured your light.

Sam took the shot and Loki ran to catch you before you fell.

Rushing beside you, Sam noticed the pained, hurried look on Loki’s face as he pulled the blade out. His eyes had widened at the sight of the blade itself.

“Brother.” Thor called as he landed on his feet opposite to the two men.

Loki looked up at him in fear, an expression Sam had never seen. “What’s happening? Why aren’t you healing her?”

Moving his eyes to the blade in Loki’s hand, Thor spoke “He cannot heal her.”

“What? He’s healed the others before!” Sam looked at him with confusion and anger.

You were already falling limp and there wasn’t a way to get you to a medic soon enough.

“It is bronze. Deadly to the Fae. No magic can heal the wound.”

Sam shook his head calling all to the courtyard. “Man down in the courtyard!”

Confirmations swarmed in at the other members running towards the location.

Loki held your form, tears forming as he called for you to stay awake. “Stay with me, little one. Do not leave me so soon.”

You looked up at him noting his quivering voice. He wasn’t angry or hurt, but defeated. The idea of you soon slipping from him before he could ever experience all the joys you could possibly bring to him had broken him.

He was reminded of Frigga and her death. Two women that had always seen past the monster and into the soul of a tortured man, now leaving him.

Thor stared in fear. He was her protector, how could he had let this happen. The blonde-man stared helplessly. He couldn’t help you or heal you.

All he could do was simply watch as you began to fade and Loki’s heart breaking in front of him.

“I am not her.” You spoke softly. The three looked at you as your form slowly changed to into a man that would stand a foot taller than you.

Thor’s eyes widened at the sight of the 30-year old mocha skinned man, and kneeled down. “Lord Ambrose.”

Loki looked at Thor in shock. This was the man that had swore Thor in as Y/N protector. “She is safe.”

Sam stared in utter shock. Completely unaware that the man had used a glamour to mirror a version that looked exactly like you.

And then you had entered the courtyard alongside Natasha and Wanda in hurry.

“What can I do?” You said out of breath from running across the lot.

Only you and Loki had the power to heal, however, yours were more helpful with deeper wounds while Loki had limitations to his healing properties.

It had taken practice, but Loki offered some of Frigga’s old journals. It was a natural talent you had seemed to possess.

Loki looked up at you with tears, “Y/N?”

He was sure he had lost you and yet, you stood with your gloves off and ready to heal whoever needed it.

“Holy shit.” Sam mumbled as he stood up to look at you in utter shock. But you were confused at his reaction to you.

Noting the bottom half of a man with Loki blocking the first half from view, you inhaled.

You move to come closer but Thor stopped you, “It was Ambrose.”

The mention of your guardian shocked you. You were now truly confused at why Ambrose would be there, in the compound, especially in this moment. However, you felt the instinctual connection between you two dwindling. And then it had struck you— he was fading.

“He glamoured himself as you to protect you.” Thor offered a further explanation. You looked at him with an expression he couldn’t interpret entirely. He then moved aside revealing Ambrose’s barely breathing form. Loki kneeled next his form with an haunted look on his face. Once again, Thor spoke— this time in a quiet voice. “You must say your goodbyes, Y/N.”

You dashed over in a hurry looking to Loki who only shook his head. He offered only one word confirming why Ambrose could not be saved, “Bronze.”

Looking back down at your guardian, you placed your hand over his gash, “It is okay, father. Accept my life force.”

Life force. It was the one thing that could save any soul. Transferring your life into the body of another was no light feat. The giver would perish, and the recipient would live.

Loki looked at you with fear in his eyes. You were unharmed and yet here you were ready to die for the second time— but this time, it would be real.

Rarely had others of your kind offered theirs unless it was moments of pure desperation as it signed their death warrant, but this was Ambrose. And to you, his life had much more meaning than your own.

It was the ultimate sacrifice.

He was the leader of your realm, your guardian, your father, brother, friend, and closest companion. You now understood why he feared allowing you to make a life on Midgard instead of remaining on your plane.

“N-no... you are destined for much more. It is time for me to join the others in the Summerland.” He spoke quietly.

His skin began to desecrate, leaving you to shake your head. “Please, don’t leave me. I never should have left your side. I was wrong— I was selfish. Our people will have no one to turn to.”

“But they will. Anders has been prepped to lead one day. It is his time.” You cried at the sound of your brother stepping up to the plate, it was a role he never truly wanted. “Send him my wishes. Tell him, he has come of age.”

“Oh, Ambrose.” You barely choked out.

This was the man who had taken you and your brother in after fleeing from war on your realm. Anders held you in his arms at age seven, scared with his newborn sister in his hands when he appeared on the plane you would call home for hundreds of years. Your brother, still young, never knew of your origins and with his memory erased, he would never know. But Ambrose— as elusive as he was— was all knowing and had taken you both in.

He spoke even softer, “You protect this world as Anders protects our realm. Your mother would be very proud.”

“My mother?”

“I see her. She is quite beautiful...”

Closing his eyes, he smiled softly. “Aelsa, take me home.” Loki looked at Ambrose in surprise of the name he mentioned. He knew exactly who he had referred to. He looked at Thor, who had his eyebrows furrowed. Both drawing the connection of your origin.

For you, he name rang of familiarity but you were too consumed by the soft shimmer that surrounded Ambrose’s form. He was leaving and you could do nothing to stop him.

And within mere seconds all you held was the dust of his now death. Fairy dust, often claimed by folklore. The magical finality of all deceased Fae.

The world had seemed to go quiet around you. And all you could think of was all the loss you had faced, even before your arrival to the place you would call home above Midgard.

And your guardian, your only true parent in your life, vanished.

“Dove?”

You looked to Loki who seemed to be filled with utter concerned as he pulled you in noting the tears in your eyes. You clutched to him tightly, while a vicious sob erupted from your lips.

“I- I can’t. It’s my fault—”

His hand rested on the back of your head while you cried. Loki was thankful that you were unharmed. The thought of losing you was a reality he could not bare to imagine, but the sight of your heartbreak pained him so.

He could feel the deep sorrow and pain roll off of you. And in your mind, you were consumed with a plethora of thoughts. Ones of grief, of guilt, failure, anger, and confusion.

Loki only held you tighter as your hands gripped his shirt. He sent you emotions of love and comfort but your walls propelled them away.

“I did this.” You cried out. He held you tighter and kissed your head, “My little dove,” he cooed to you.

He had no way of knowing what to say. In truth, no one knew what to do. What can one say to someone who had watched their loved one die so instantly, so unexpectedly?

Thor ushered Natasha, Wanda, and Sam away instructing them to proceed with the rest of the mission of bringing the victims home.

Sam followed the two women out of the courtyard, informing Steve and Tony what had occurred. Thor would most likely fill them in when he returned.

Turning back to Loki, he nodded and walked away. He knew the last thing you would want were minds buzzing all around you, and so he parted.

Leaving you and Loki to the silence around you.

#loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x fairy!reader #loki fanfic #mcu loki #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #loki imagine #loki series #loki of asgard #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki avengers

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rakistangadik-ships · 2 years

Text

Wrath and Desolation

Chapter Three: Behold the Nephilims

Author: rinzeki

Word Count: 1,842

Genre: nephilim!au

Summary: Park Jimin finally agreed to join the New World. It's time to meet the other Nephilims.

Masterlist: Here

Character Description: Here

[Chapter One]

[Chapter Two]

His hands were flying all over Jimin's body. Hoseok was palpating the sore, sweaty cheeks of his patient, making sure he didn't acquire any secondary injuries prior to the retrieval of Jimin's memories.

He held his chin and swung it side to side.

"Just a bursted capillary on your right eye. Goodness gracious."

Hoseok stood up from the floor and left Jimin there panting and catching his own breath. He quickly paced to the drawers not far from his desk. Sounds of clinking bottles and vials of various medicines dominated the room as he tried to find the jasmine oil he kept.

Jimin held his right eye and felt a stinging pain radiating from his back to his chest. His sternum was burning and he was reminded of the scene where his supposed mother was brutally killed by an unknown entity. Her chest was pryed open, her heart was missing.

"W-what are you?!" He exclaimed under his breath, pertaining to Hoseok whom performed the ritual.

Hoseok stopped moving. He grabbed the glass, amber bottle which has a label "jasmine oil" and turned to Jimin sporting his innocent smile.

"Jasmine oil. I purifed this. Good for the eyes."

He approached and kneeled on the floor where Jimin was and put one drop of oil on his right eye. He flinched but felt relieved when the discomfort from his affected eye slowly diminished.

"Do you remember who you are now?" Hoseok suddenly became serious. "The symptoms will fade hour by hour. The pain you are experiencing is from your mother."

"Wait, you know what I saw? But how?"

Hoseok extended his hand, offering Jimin some help to stand. "Yes..."

"This is... fucking weird." Jimin hesistated. I can stand on my own."

"That... that was my ability. I apologize if I haven't warned you about the side effects of the procedure. If I have told you, you would not agree to do it."

"Well, now what? I couldn't even feel my legs." Jimin tried to stand with his wobbly legs. He used his elbow to support his own weight as he tried to stand. "You people are weird fucks." Grunting, he managed to sit down, still out of breath.

"I warned Namjoon. He hesitated because of your deal. I would not want anybody to experience that. It makes me feel guilty."

Hoseok returned to his desk. "Namjoon told me to bring you to the library as soon as the ritual is over."

"If all of those memories are true. Then what happened to you all? Did your parents die the same way as mine did?" Curious Jimin stood up but miserably failed and sat on the floor again "Fucking dammit."

"My mom is an angel. Yes, she died the same as your mom did. In fact, all of our angel mothers' heart were eaten-"

"Eaten?!? What? By what?

"Not what. By who. Their hearts were eaten by the demon king. I guess Namjoon told you who the demon king is. I wouldn't want to know what was the motive of the demon king why he did that." Hoseok wore his eyeglasses and looked at Jimin. "All of our mothers are angels. Except for Yoongi-hyung. His father was an angel. He died protecting his demon wife and they both were banished in hell."

Jimin looked up and tilted his head. "Is that the reason why that emo guy has the weakest demon aura here?"

"You sensed that? Amazing. That's your ability. His mother is the sister of the former president... who was also a demon."

"The man... the man that I saw. Was that my father?" Jimin was trying to remember the happenings prior to the ritual. "You said I am the son of Al'gar. I don't have any memories of him."

"The demon fathers made sure they erased their existence in our memories. I couldn't remember the face of my father, too. One thing's for sure. They left their names. I read that your father is a demon hunter. Pretty ironic because he was a demon himself. Maybe it was for the protection of you and your mother."

"That was unfortunate." Jimin slowly stood up. "I can move my legs now."

"So, are you going to agree to Namjoon?"

"About what?"

"About joining us."

"I don't want any acquaintances and I despise all of you." Jimin gritted his teeth. "But they killed my mother. No son can tolerate that."

Hoseok knocked on the wooden door of the library where Namjoon was. It took a while when Taehyung finally opened it.

"Well, about time buddy." Jimin told Taehyung who rolled his eyes as he opened the door.

Hoseok smiled to Taehyung. "Ah, I knew you two would not get along." He tapped Taehyung's shoulder and whispered to him. "He isn't as bad as we thought."

Taehyung squinted. "Why would I care? He's just a pip-squeak."

Jimin turned to Taehyung, visibly annoyed. "Now, who are you calling pip- squeak? You want this pip- squeak to juggle your kidneys?"

"I want you two to settle down, please. Jin - hyung will be here any minute by now." Namjoon's voice echoed around the room prompting Jimin to sit on the chair near him and Taehyung to cross his arms around his chest.

Namjoon and Yoongi were both busy studying the data that were scattered around the table. They were planning their next move.

"Taehyung, tell Jungkook to come here. We'll introduce Jimin to him." Yoongi was still reading files with his right hand. He was holding a coffee mug using his left. He sipped from the mug. "I don't like the way this coffee taste like. Who made this?"

Taehyung widened his eyes. "I-I did. Well, I don't know what you wanted and just grabbed the one I know. I don't know how to brew properly."

Yoongi looked at him. "It tastes like feet." He took another sip. "Tolerable."

Jimin laughed. "What a loser."

Taehyung whispered to himself "Chibi."

"What did you say!?" Jimin stood up. "You wanna fight, buddy?"

"Taehyung just-" Namjoon signaled him to leave the room. "Go look for Jungkook."

With that, Taehyung nodded and left the room.

Hoseok held Jimin's shoulder and forced him to sit down again. "Relax. I know Taehyung is aloof and you two can't get along now. But I assure you he's reliable."

"Reliable my ass." Jimin was pissed but managed to cool down. “He’s getting on my nerves. I don’t know why.”

Hoseok rested his curled right index finger on his chin. “Hmm. Interesting. The animosity between you two is the same with your fathers. I wonder if that could be inherited, too.” He reached the inside of his pocket and withdrew a pen and a tiny notebook. “I gotta write that down.”

Suddenly a loud knock made the whole room shake. Jimin’s nape shivered with what he could sense just right now. A strong, nauseating aura; a pure intent to kill; a foul familiar stench.

A very muscular man entered the room wearing a dark, blood red suit and trousers filled with little gold classical prints on it. Out of all of them, he was the most modest looking. Almost looking like a prince. As he passed walk to Jimin, he looked at him and widened his eyes.

“Namjoon. It’s the rat.” He exclaimed to the young genius who was busy discussing with Yoongi.

Jimin squinted his eyes, trying to remember the man’s name. “I know you.” He pointed at him. “Blood dragon’s leader, Jin.”

Jin smirked. “Of course, you know me. You killed my men.”

“Yeah? They were chasing-“

“Chasing you because Namjoon here and the whole organization wanted to get a hold of you. I was assigned to take you here for years but you’re such a tough ballsack.” Jin interrupted Jimin. “It was a misunderstanding... a miscommunication.”

Jimin only clicked his tongue as a reply. He couldn’t even look at Jin’s eyes for too long. He was rather intimidating.

Taehyung suddenly bursted inside the room. “Hyung! Jungkook is not in his room. He’s not here.”

“Dios mio.” Jin pinched his nosebridge. “Where could that troublemaker be? I hope he’s not out on his own again.”

“Did he say something to you, Hoseok?” Yoongi looked at Hoseok who was just as confused as everybody were.

“Me? I was at the lab the whole day. We didn’t meet today.”

“That bastard.” Yoongi stood up and forcefully put down the files he was previously holding.

Yoongi was about to walk away but Namjoon took a hold of his left arm.

“Nevermind. I just wanted him to meet Jimin. He can’t participate in our next move, anyways. Let him be.”

With that, Yoongi sat again. He was the only one whom Jungkook really trusted. It’s a miracle he didn’t tell anybody where he was. Suspicious? Troublesome as what has Jin thought.

“Now that everybody met each other, let’s discuss…”

After a while, Namjoon told them what he and Yoongi was planning.

“We’ll go in pairs. Hoseok and Yoongi will stay here and will guard the fort. It would be an advantage in case anybody gets injured. Jin-hyung and me will infiltrate the national museum since Jin-hyung here knows the whereabouts of the museum director, and Jimin and Taehyung-“

“Wait what?! You’re pairing me with this guy?” he purposely pointed Taehyung who was peacefully sitting across him.

“Well, both of you knew all about guns and stuff. You’ll raid the Bellfront bank. But don’t kill the bank administrator. We’ll just scare them.” Namjoon defended himself.

“It’s fine with me. If you will just shut your pip-squeak mouth.”

Jimin shot a dirty look at Taehyung who made that remark. "I swear if you call me pip-squeak one more time, I will rip off your mouth."

"Enough. Can you see we're serious here?!" Yoongi snarled at both of them.

Hoseok stood up and pacified ther situation by holding both of Taehyung's shoulder since he was just sitting behind him. "If it's okay with Taehyung, I'm sure it's fine with Jimin. Riiiiight, Jimin?" He purposely stretched the word "right" as he looked at Jimin innocently.

As sudden rush of bad flashbacks kept pouring in Jimin's mind about Hoseok. His demon voice echoed through the hollows of his skull and it made him gulp a large ball of this-could-be-a-future-regret down his throat.

"F-fine! Whatever pleases you all." Jimin crossed his arms in front of his chest. "But I will quit if he keeps his princess attitude."

The leader shrugged his shoulders "I guess that would work. Taehyung could do that since you two would be roommates. We ran out of rooms, unfortunately."

The cat and the dog exclaimed in unison "ROOMMATES?"

"Naw, it keeps getting worse." The new recruit managed to scratched his head violently when he heard the sudden news.

"Hyung. Please." In his monotone voice, Taehyung was hopeful that they might reconsider.

"Uhm." Yoongi puts his index finger vertically on his lips, telling them to stop talking. "No buts or ifs. We thought this thoroughly. At least you can plan the infiltration better if you two are roommates."

#bts #bts au fanfic #nephilim #kim taehyung #park jimin #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #wrath and desolation #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #park jimin fanfic #fanfic #bulletproof boy scouts

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drwcn · 4 years

Text

The Shadow Beneath the Light

Concept: Sect Master Wen Qing & her harem of Jiang heirs demonic cultivators. CQL!Verse.

[Part 1] Part 2

(long post, tw: scars)

The remnant heirs of Yunmeng Jiang all had scars, Wen Qing knew.

She discovered Jiang Yanli’s first.

“Do you want me to help you remove them,” she had asked the oldest Jiang when her brothers brought her to Nevernight for Wen Qing to ease the ravage of demonic cultivation on their sister’s constitution. Wen Qing was good at that, erasing scars. She had helped herself along these many years; Wen Ruohan didn’t like weakness, and scars were much too telling.

“No.” Jiang Yanli replied, and Wen Qing found her steel like resolve magnetic.

“What they did to me cannot be undone, Wen-zongzhu.” Jiang Yanli raised a pale hand from the dark medicinal bath Wen Qng had put her in, water dripping from her wrist down to her elbow, rolling across the countless white lines that marred her once untouched skin. With a twist of her wrist, tendrils of back smoke danced between her bony fingers and gathered in her palm.

She closed her eyes. “But they’ve paid for it.”

There was no point in asking her how these fine scars made by thin blades came to be, or what others scars she carried that could not be seen with the eye. Nevernight received reports from Wen Chao himself when he had captured the three Jiang children. Having been raised beside him, Wen Qing knew her cousin’s nature well, and she knew even better the pettiness of his mistress Wang Lingjiao.

...the Jiangs have fallen under our might, stripped of their powers and dignity alike...

Even Wen Ruohan had scoffed at his son’s letter in distaste and muttered “that idiot boy” before sinking back into deep meditation. In his later days, he had little energy for anything else but controlling the Yin Iron.

It made him easy to kill.

After she’d slain him, Wen Qing had preserved his body in her laboratory, and ordered him to be studied in detail by her healers. The physiological effects of demonic cultivation on the body: such uncharted water, so much untapped knowledge, a realm of unexplored potential. She wasn’t going to get another subject that was as readily available and un-missed as her predecessor.

And if this just so happened to allow the three Jiangs to bear witness to his systematic disassembling while his de-brained head floated in a glass tub above her workbench... well, that was a convenient bonus.

Wen Qing was not a nice woman.

Fortunately, the Jiangs weren’t looking for nice.

She married Jiang Yanli on an auspicious summer day.

With the memories of Yunmeng’s vengence still so fresh in their minds and Qishan Wen’s new political foundation so precarious, it seemed wise to keep to a serious, private agenda. Yet, this was Sect Master Wen’s da’hun, an official affair if nothing else, so no corners were cut when it came to matters of ceremony and sanctity. Though it was not the lavish event that Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian had dreamed of giving their sister in their youth, Wen Qing made sure that Jiang Yanli was afforded every measure of respect and dignity.

They rose early in the morning, bathed, and meditated to clear their minds. At noon, they climbed Nevernight’s tall stairs together to bow and pay homage to the heavens and gods. There was no song, no music, just the high altitude winds in their ears as they bond themselves to each other, witnessed in full by their brothers, their parents’ spirits and their disciples.

Then later, inside the sanctuary of their wedding suite - the only place where Wen Qing gave in to her impulse to make it as decorated and luxurious as she knew Jiang Yanli deserved and desired - the young Sect Master of Qishan Wen allowed herself to be unwrapped by her new fu’ren and to unwrap her in return.

“It’s all yours,” Wen Qing promised within the cocoon of their canopy, the air dense with the heat of their coupling. Her body tingled in pleasure where Jiang Yanli’s hands had mapped out its planes and claimed them for herself.

“Hm?” Her new wife laid propped on her elbow by her side, the curtain of her hair falling around her pale shoulders, lips dark, kiss-swollen, and smiling. She was the very definition of beauty, the epitome of divine, and living proof in Wen Qing’s mind that mere mortals could not taint perfection. “What’s mine?”

Her heart, they both knew, would have to be shared. In fact, Wen Qing suspected Yanli rather preferred it this way: all of them in Wen Qing’s bed and in her life, so that none would have to be without the other. To the outside world it may seem like a harem, but Wen Qing understood without a doubt that there could be no others, nor did she want there to be.

She reached for Jiang Yanli’s free hand, laced their fingers together and pressed a tender kiss to her palm. “Everything. All that I am - my titles, my powers, my lands - they’re yours. Fu’ren, you are my fu’ren, my legally wedded spouse, my only wife. I entrust myself, my life to you.”

“Yanli,” she whispered, caressing her wife’s - her wife, what miracle! - face with the back of her knuckles, her thumb brushing her lips open and then down under her chin, along her neck, across her clavicle and over the mount of her left breast, a motion which earned her a soft moan from Yanli’s parted lips. “I can’t turn back time, can’t undo the past, but henceforth I will do everything in my power to ensure the happiness of you future. Qishan Wen Sect lies at your feet.”

Jiang Yanli’s eyes darkened incrementally with her every word, darkened in a way that had nothing to do with the yin energy that flowed through her veins.

“I like it when you call me fu’ren,” Jiang Yanli leaned closer, her gaze falling to Wen Qing’s lips. “Say it again.”

“Fu- mhm!”

Her words were lost somewhere in between them. Jiang Yanli shoved Wen Qing onto her back and caught her lips in a kiss that was truly too filthy to have come from any good gentry girl, and proceeded to show her just exactly how much she liked it.

A-Ning once asked her once why the Jiang siblings would agree to marry her, despite the Wens being the reason for all their tragedy. Wen Qing told him that there could be no greater karmatic justice than if the clan from whom Wen Ruohan and his sons took everything became the bloodline to inherit Qishan Wen’s future.

Jiang Cheng’s scars are ragged and angry, overturned flesh, long and deep.

They hurt him on the days when the weather turned and the temperature dropped. His temper was terrible on those nights, and with the dark powers aggravating his spirit, that made him dangerous.

Wen Qing didn’t mind. She was a Wen, and Wens practiced ways of the fire, and for Jiang Cheng she would set her mountains alight to keep him warm for a moment.

Two days after Jiang Yanli became the new lady of Nevernight, Wen Qing welcomed Jiang Wanyin into her harem with a small private ceremony of their own. He looked odd in proper red; it wasn’t his colour, but his smile was sweet and shy and Wen Qing lost herself a little in those eyes.

He was her consort, what a strange notion to think about. Even now she still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. Dukes and emperors had concubines and consorts, cultivators rarely did. She wasn’t the first but certainly one of the few. Not to mention, she was the first female head of family in Qishan Wen’s history. A female Sect Master with a harem of demonic cultivators, what a colourful tableau they must seem to the world.

She asked Jiang Wanyin before he committed himself to her if there was any part of him that minded that he couldn’t be her legal husband, that she couldn’t give him the same prestige she gave his sister. He shook his head. After everything, he and Wei Wuxian both agreed that Yanli came first and that they would honour her before all others. Wen Qing thought this was perhaps their way of atoning for a mistake that was never theirs to begin with, but as much as she didn’t agree, she understood why the boys couldn’t let go of the guilt of not being able to protect their sister.

(Sometimes, they would tell her stories of what they endured at the hands of Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao, and how the three of them survived the months they spent together in the Burial Mount. It gave her nightmares, those stories, she who didn’t lose a wink of sleep after cutting off a man’s head.)

Jiang Cheng couldn’t be her husband in name, but she made sure to arrange for him all the sweet and homely customs that normal couples would enjoy on their wedding night. A veil for him to lift from her face, and wine for them to drink with their arms entwined. He looked confused when the merry old wives, who were her wedding attendants, led by Grandma came to her with a bowl of half cooked dumplings.

She took a bite. The merry wives chuckled and asked, “sheng bu sheng a?”

Jiang Cheng blushed. He understood. Wen Qing bit back a laugh and nodded, “sheng.”

Then they were left alone. Jiang Cheng was still blushing, even though what was supposed to happen next would hardly be their first.

Hm, on second thought, perhaps it would.

Their times spent together prior to this had always been accompanied by special assists that Wen Qing was quite good at using and that Jiang Cheng was quite delighted at receiving. She didn’t bring them tonight. She figured that tonight of all nights he would want her a different way, just as she wanted him.

Jiang Cheng shuffled back onto the bed and glanced in further confusion at all the dried dates, peanuts, longan and sunflower seeds spread across the silk. “What? Did we run out of plates?”

Wen Qing climbed leisurely onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Use that big boy brain of yours and think.”

It only took a couple more seconds before it clicked. “Oh”. His blush darkened. “Wow they’re really serious about this stuff.”

“What?” Wen Qing teased, purposely gyrating her hips to grind down against him. “You don’t want to?” She could feel him, and he definitely wanted to.

His hands spanned her waist, pulling her closer. “I never said that.”

Unlike Yanli, Jiang Cheng needed a firm but gentler hand. Something consistent, unwavering, safe. Wen Qing cradled him between her thighs and within her arms. The heat from her golden core flowed out from her fingertips, crawling up his spine and along his scars to warm him from within.

Jiang Cheng panted against her neck, clung to her tightly and pressed desperate kisses where he could.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered against his ear, as their shared pleasure dizzied her usually sharp perception of the world. “I’ve got you. A-Cheng, Wanyin, I’m with you, you’re safe, you’re good, you’re so good, so good, you can let go, let go. Let go.”

In the back of her mind even as their world exploded into blissful white lights, a single thought lingered. You’re not allowed to die.

Afterwards, when he curled up quietly at her side, pillowed against her soft breasts, she found herself running her fingers through his hair and lulling him to sleep with her visions of their future. Yunmeng would be free, she would tell him. Lotus Pier would be cleaned and rebuilt just as the three of them remembered. She would send her most trusted subordinates to the Jiang library, to preserve their books and scrolls. She would dispatch her most agile trackers to find remnants of their disciples and Jiang elders travelling the lands so that they may help to pass down Yunmeng Jiang's wisdom and guide the steps to train their young folks...

“Young folks,” she mused. She could still feel his spent between her legs, a bit sticky where it was starting to pool under her thighs, and a daring part of her wondered if it would happen tonight. “Hm.”

“Someday,” Jiang Cheng mumbled, half asleep. “’hm many d’you want?”

“The better question is how many your sister wants. Fu’ren is calling the shots on this front - ha ha - stop!” Wen Qing shrieked a little as his sneaky fingers danced across her sensitive ribs. The bastard knew just where to tickle her!

“What?” Jiang Cheng grinned, pulling her closer and apparently no longer interested in sleeping. “A-jie has high expectations, we can’t disappoint her.”

“Hm yes,” Wen Qing smiled, melting into his kiss. “That would be unacceptable.”

The stories about them, the stories that the Jins were spreading, painted a wretched affair.

Wen Qing didn’t have to hear it to know that it must be bad. The cold blooded assassin betraying the man who raised her, decapitating his head and usurping his rule, overthrowing him to steal Qishan Wen Sect from under him. She claimed zero tolerance for his tyranny and yet, not months later, she had taken in not one, not two, but three of middle kingdom’s grandmasters of demonic cultivation. Within a year, she’d married all of them. A harem. She was the only master of a major sect to have one. Word on the street was that the Jiangs were her puppets, her slaves, that she owned them.

What people didn’t know is that although she usurped Wen Ruohan and assumed his power, in doing so, she had also assumed his debts, the debt that Qishan Wen owed Yunmeng Jiang. Yes she owed Gusu Lan as well, so she sent her resources, and yes she owed Qinghe Nie, so she sent her healers. But the Jiangs...what could she do for them?

So no, the Jiang remnants were not her puppets, her soldiers, nor - heaven forbid - her slaves. They were her debt, a debt she could never repay, and would owe for the rest of her life.

Wei Wuxian’s scars were the worst. They were the only kind she couldn’t do anything about because they were inflicted with the spiritual fire brands of her own clan.

Wen Mao, their founder, had them forged when he established their sect. It was intended for their own disciples who’d committed the gravest of crimes. Once inflicted, the evidence of it could never be removed through any healing methods known to man. It was never meant to be used for torture.

Wen Chao clearly didn’t care, or more likely he didn’t know, since he barely bothered to read his own ancestor’s teachings.

The first time Wen Qing saw Wei Wuxian’s scars, it was when she had finally wrangled him into her clinic to have him examined for damages from demonic cultivation. She had examined his sister, and she had examined his brother. They both got better under the care of her and her team of healers. Only Wei Wuxian resisted, even though he was the most aggressive practitioner of the them three.

When he finally shed his upper robes, Wen Qing understood why. He was covered in them. Her assistant healer actually swore aloud and flinched, though Wen Qing’s withering glare had him quickly lowering his eyes to apologize. “I’m sorry, that was unprofessional.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged.

He drank a lot and was indiscriminate about his liquor, but once in a drunken stupor he confessed that he missed Gusu’s Emperor’s Smile. So when Wen Qing proposed to him like his siblings wanted, she expected him to refuse. Wei Wuxian wasn’t the type to be forced to do anything no matter how much his brother and his sister wanted him to.

Except he didn’t.

“You understand what I’ve saying right?”

“Yeah. Being the concubine of the most attractive young Sect Master in the land - no offence Zewu-jun and Chifeng-zun - uhm some would call me a lucky bastard.”

Wen Qing was baffled. “If you’re sure. You know I wouldn’t let the Jins do anything to you or Yanli or A-Cheng, marriage or no marriage.”

“Pff, I’m not afraid of the Jins, and why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Because....Lan Wangji?” No need to beat around the bush about these things. She was there when the two of them fell out of the cave together, wrists bound with Gusu Lan’s head ribbon.

Hm.

Wei Wuxian glowered. “Well, more reason to get married isn’t it? If I’m part of your inner court, your harem, the venerated and righteous Hanguang-jun can’t reasonably come and force me to go back to Gusu with him so he can exorcise the evil out of me.”

“He said that?” Somehow the dots just didn’t connect.

“Not in so many words.”

Right.

Well, in her defense, Wen Qing didn’t really know Lan Wangji all that well, so she couldn’t be blamed for what she did next.

Two days after her ceremony with Jiang Cheng, and four days after her da’hun with Jiang Yanli, Wei Wuxian dressed himself in red and Wen Qing came to him with a giant vat of Qishan’s finest alcohol.

There was none of the grandeur she afforded Yanli (he wouldn’t have preferred that even if she could arrange it), nor any of the sweetness she shared with A-Cheng (“He’s the sentimentalist in the family not me”, waved Wei Wuxian dismissively). Wei Wuxian just wanted a good time, and Wen Qing obliged.

In short, they got drunk. Blindingly drunk. Over many, many rounds of drinking games which started with betting and ended with stripping, both of them worked themselves up enough to get their hands on each other.

Probably.

She was not entirely sure. When she woke up the next morning, she was on the floor with a pounding headache, completely naked, sore all over and wrapped in a red silk drape that somehow came down from the wall. The bed behind her was still made, which meant they never made it there.

A groan came from the table. Crammed under there, Wei Wuxian was also completely naked. He shuffled out, rolling over onto his stomach, blew the errant strands of hair from his face and whined, “Ow! I’m so sore. Did we fuck?”

“Uh...” What time was it? Surely way too early for any decent person to ask her to do a medical exam on herself. Wen Qing squinted against the light streaming in from the windows. “Uh, I’m not sure.”

Wei Wuxian padded down his body and winced when he reached his backside. “Yeah we did.” He gave a triumphant pump of his fist. “Alright! Mission accomplished.”

Wen Qing laughed. Wei Wuxian sat up and laughed with her. She laughed harder when she was sure that his mirth was genuine.

She felt lucky. She had a household: a brother who was safe, respected and maturing into a fine young man every day, a wife who was the pillar of her life, a consort who she loved very much, and a man who kept things interesting. A family.

Wen Qing laughed, but she laughed too soon.

“Gusu Lan Sect is sending an envoy next month to Nevernight for the trade negotiations.” Wen Qing paced the length of her wife’s private study.

Jiang Yanli raised her eye brows. “Yes...we’ve spoken about this. Everything is in order, is it not? Lan Xichen was very reasonable in his letters. Certainly more agreeable than Jin Guangshan.”

Wen Qing smacked the newest letter down on Yanli’s desk. “This was delivered to me personally this morning, addressed to the both of us. I can’t believe I’m receiving something of this nature from Zewu-jun of all people.”

Jiang Yanli picked up the slip, glanced it over, and fell silent. “Oh.”

“Yanli, ‘Oh’ is an understatement, this is an outrage!”

The intention of the letter was very clear; Lan Xichen wrote on behalf of his brother Lan Wangji for Wei Wuxian’s hand in marriage.

The ladies stared at each other, in utter, shocked silence. No matter how close the Twin Jades were, there was no version of reality in which Jiang Yanli would believe that Sect Master Lan would ever stoop to asking a fellow Sect Master for her concubine, like Wei Wuxian was some kind of giftable property. This has to be a mistake.

“Listen to this language. ‘My brother, though he may often find it difficult to express his affections, feels deeply for Wei-gongzi.’ Gongzi, he wrote, not xiansheng. ‘As there are regrettably no elders present for either the Jiang or Wei family, I must then seek blessing and permission from you Wen-zongzhu and Wen fu’ren, the current head of the clan with whom Wei-gongzi resides and his adopted elder sister’.” Jiang Yanli read aloud, pausing to exclaim, “I - I don’t think he knows!”

“How could he possibly not know? Jin Guangshan is fabricating nasty stories about us in every tea house, tavern, and inn. How could Lan Xichen not know?!” Wen Qing dug the heels of her hands into her eye socket in frustration. “Wen zongzhu and Wen fu’ren - he knows we married.”

“Yes, you and I. The vernacular used on the streets is the Jiang heirs, so maybe he thought it didn’t include A-Xian. In any case, you haven’t gone out in public with him yet.” Yanli tried to rationalize. People knew about Jiang Cheng because Wen Qing had taken him on an inspection of Qishan Wen’s cities and citadels three weeks ago. Everyone saw: subsidiary clans, townsfolk, peasants, travelling merchants.

“That’s true.” Then Wen Qing suddenly had a thought. “At the risk of sounding like a warlord trying to curry favour with an ally by gifting away her concubine, you think we can just ...lie about the marriage....? No, no that’s insane. And immoral.”

Yanli sighed. “We could try all we want, but A-Xian would never buy into it, even if you and I both know there’s still something there.”

“Not that he’ll ever admit it.” Wen Qing grumbled.

“A-Xian can be...difficult. Once upon a time, I had harboured some kind of hope that he and Lan-er-gongzi could...” Another sigh. “And then everything happened. I can no more speak for him than I can speak for myself, and without a family to back him, given his method of cultivation and his record during the war...well.” Jiang Yanli’s eyes took on a far away look.

Wen Qing cocked her head. She was starting to see why Jiang Yanli wanted her to marry Wei Wuxian. Jiang Yanli understood as his sister just as well as Wen Qing understood as his once-physician, that Wei Wuxian was more fragile than he let on, and she wanted someone there to take care of him. More than that, Jiang Yanli wanted herself to be around to ensure that he was taken cared of. That person wasn’t going to be Lan Wangji. She had given up on Gusu Lan Sect.

Perhaps she should’ve waited. Perhaps they both should’ve.

Wen Qing rounded the table and came behind Yanli, kneading her thumb into the tense muscles of her trapeziums. Jiang Yanli hummed. “He still loves him, you know.”

“I know.”

Over the months, Wen Qing had discovered that she and Wei Wuxian were quite compatible. She shared his bed - occasionally - because they were friends and it was fun and he needed the connection, but it wasn’t like that between them, and they were both well aware of it. Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing saw each other only as family, in the best sense of the word.

Things were good. Really. It was warm and comfortable. Wei Wuxian spent his days with his siblings and Wen Ning and found joy in the duties he took up within her sect. If Wei Wuxian liked to stare at the orchids on his window sill, the white orchids Nie Huaisang brought as a gift when he visited lasted month and which Wei Wuxian tended to himself and didn't let anyone touch, Wen Qing pretended she didn’t see.

“The envoy next month is clearly a ruse. Our trade agreements are all but finalized. Lan Xichen clearly wants to talk about this marriage in person, but why the smoke and mirrors?” Wen Qing knelt down and wrapped her arms around her wife.

“His Uncle probably doesn’t agree. Or his Elders.” Jiang Yanli leaned back into the embrace and closed her eyes. She was tired. They both were. “I don’t imagine Lan Xichen is coming here himself.”

“Naturally not.”

“Who is he sending?”

Wen Qing pulled back just enough to tilt Jiang Yanli's chin towards her for a kiss. "Guess? Who does the kind and magnanimous Zewu-jun have at his disposal that is good with words, has his trust, and knows the ins and outs of Nevernight."

"Ah." Yanli understood.

Sunshot Campaign’s most prolific little spy.

“Meng Yao.”

[Next]

Notes:

da’hun 大婚 - the official marriage of a person to their legal spouse.

sheng 生 = raw, but also “birth”. It’s an homonym for “is it raw?” and “are you going to give birth?” It’s for good luck.

date (zao), peanut (sheng), longan (gui), sunflower seeds (zi) - zao sheng gui zi 早生贵子 another homonym for having babies quickly. Lol yes traditional families are obsessed with babies.

#cql #the untamed #chengqqing #wangxian #yanqing #yunmeng trio #jiang yanli #wen qing #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #tw: scar #corie fics #tsbl #cql ficlet

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missymallow · 4 years

Text

Drarry: The Demon King's Cupid

---

Draco took a sip of his drink, eyes locked onto its current target; a young woman seemingly in her early twenties. She was wearing a tight short red dress that complimented her body magnificently as well as her long red wavy hair where she currently tossed the strands of those beautiful locks behind her shoulder gracefully. The action managed to capture hungry eyes that had been eyeing her in interest, but she delightfully took no notice of their attention.

Instead, she put her attention to her companions, clearly having the time of her life.

Draco couldn't help but smirked approvingly. He has been keeping his eyes on her from the moment she stepped into the place; her personal information has already imprinted behind his eyelids as he has finished reading her profile just before he entered the place half an hour before her and just by watching her, Draco had the feeling that this would be an interesting assignment.

Ginevra Molly Weasley

It had been a rather peculiar day for Draco as he had never been sent two assignments in a week. In fact, it was not even a full two hours of his last assignment when he received another one. Draco, however, was not one to withdraw from a mere challenge and thus, here he was, currently working on his latest assignment.

Draco snapped his eyes to the entrance when his detector chimed, just in time to see his next target of assignment walked through the door confidently, and he appeared to be accompanied by two of his friends.

He observed his next target; a mid twenties young man with a rather obnoxious black hair that seemingly can't be tamed. He was wearing a simple black jeans, white t-shirt and a jean jacket and Draco involuntarily hummed in appreciation when the man turned to give the place a once-over, allowing Draco to see his face. The man was quite a devastatingly handsome young man.

Harry James Potter

Draco blinked when he tapped his wrist for their matching percentage, surprised to see the numbers that popped up onto his skin and he just had to give a small amused laugh.

He understood now why he was given this particular assignment on a short notice, and why it was a compulsory assignment that must be executed as soon as possible; these two were a Perfect Match. It was rare for two individuals to become a Perfect Match considering that they needed to be matched above ninety percent, and these two individuals managed to exceed the expectation with the percentages over ninety-eight.

Apart from that, a successful bond from a Perfect Match could produce enough Enhanced Magic for the entire department for a year and Draco understood now why the entire department had sent him off as if he was about to fight in a battle of the century. Perhaps he was, considering that ironically, a Perfect Match must be done within twenty-four hours or the match would be nullified. Hence why the department decided to give him the assignment; he was the best shooter with the perfect accuracy. He was known to finish his assignment within record time, and he was their best bet to pull up the job.

And he won't let his department down by doing a poor job at it. He has an important image to maintain after all.

He observed as the three men walked towards the bar, pleased to see that they were walking right towards Ginevra and her companions. When Harry was about a step away from Ginevra, Draco instantly waved his hand discreetly, and the effect was almost immediate when Ginevra suddenly stumbled off her seat right into Harry's arms who quickly caught her, hands dropped onto her shoulder and waist as he helped her up to her feet, giving Ginevra an amused smile.

Ginevra appeared to be flustered, as she straightened up and Draco quickly snapped his fingers when their eyes meet, grinning when he saw his magic working right under their nose, making the two human locked their eyes in a dazed way, no doubt they were captivated by each other.

When Draco saw his golden sparks of magic turned pink, he heaved a satisfied sigh. He watched as Ginevra shyly invited Harry to sit together, watched as they started to speak to one another, their companions also decided to merge together and Draco let them be. His magic was working on its own and he only needed them to be interested deeply enough to give each other a kiss because that was when Draco needed to shoot them with the arrow.

He waved another set of magic towards the pair, another detector for Draco to detect their movement as he turned his attention elsewhere, preferring to let the pair work on the magic by themselves without him watching like a creeper.

He spend his time talking to a man for the past few hours, entertained with the way the human outwardly enthralled by his existence and tried to feel him by spreading his fingers to his thigh, getting higher by the seconds when his detector chimed for the second time that night and he subtly turned to see both Harry and Ginevra was already on their feet, already saying their goodbyes to their companions as they headed for the entrance.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Draco excused himself without waiting for the man's reaction, not forgetting to send a quick waved of a finger to erase the man's memories of Draco. Just in case.

He sighed in relief when he saw both Harry and Ginevra were just turning around a corner the moment he stepped outside, and he immediately trailed behind them as he put on an invisible charm on himself, not risking getting caught in the act.

Draco found himself walking into a dark alley, eyes dropped onto the pair in an instant just in time to see them leaning to each other intimately with desire painted on both of their faces. Draco smirked, extending his left hand to his front and silently summoned his golden bow, right hand already holding an arrow.

He positioned the arrow on the bow, taking a good stance to line up his body to his targets for easier yet effective shots. He pointed his first shot towards Ginevra, seeing as she was the one who pinned Harry to the wall and she got Draco’s approval for her action. He released the bow string, launching the arrow into full speed and landed cleanly on her. She pressed her body closer to Harry as a result, and Harry's grip on her waist tightened.

Draco pulled out the second arrow and positioned his aim on Harry. As soon as he releases the arrow, the bond will take place and his job is done. Enhanced Magic for the entire year for his department. He grinned at that, enthusiastically pulling his bow string and launched.

He watched in glee as the arrow made its way straight towards oblivious Harry who had his eyes on Ginevra, giddy to see it landed on the young man.

The arrow was about to hit its target when he caught a devilish smirk upon Harry's face, and it was the only warning he received before Harry effortlessly plucked the arrow mid-air, inches away from his face and turned to lock his eyes with Draco.

Draco gasped at that, flabbergasted by the sudden change of event causing him to lose his balance and stumbled on his feet. He fell backwards, about to land on the dirty ground before an arm took a place around his waist and straightened him up. He was then pressed onto another body, the grip on his waist was strong and secure.

"Careful, love."

Shivers ran through Draco’s spine as a deep voice whispered down to his ear, hot breath tickling his skin. He carefully gazed up; eyes widened to see it was Harry who had his arm around him, and his body involuntarily gave a startled jolt at that.

Harry gave an amused chuckle, a contrast to Draco who felt himself shaking. There's- There was no way- He dropped his gaze to where he had his hands rested on Harry's chest, frowning to see that his invisible charm was still in place. There was no way a mere human managed to see him, let alone-

He caught a movement on his right and gasped when he saw that Harry had the golden arrow between his fingers. Heavens, no other creatures can see the arrow except for Draco’s own kind. Harry however, did not only saw the golden arrow, he even managed to catch it effortlessly, and now he was playfully twirling it around as if it was a toy.

"Y-you can't play arou-around w-with that."

"Oh, this little arrow?" asked Harry innocently, and made a show of giving it a thought before he snapped the arrow into two with a smirk, successfully managed to plant a seed of fear inside Draco. The arrow was a sacred, unbreakable tool and Harry just destroyed it with his bare hand.

Draco felt his knees weaken.

"Who- what- what are you?" asked Draco timidly, he suddenly felt so small. There was no way Harry was a human, not with the power he had just displayed. He darted his eyes to where both Ginevra and Harry were before only to see that Ginevra was nowhere to be found. Heavens' luck, was he tricked?

He immediately brought his eyes back to Harry and shook like a leaf when he saw Harry smirked wickedly. A flash of red appeared in his green eyes for a moment, easily breaching through Draco’s magic as he revoked his invisible charm. Draco hitched a breath when he saw his body turned visible, fingers apparently clutching onto Harry's shirt.

"There you are." said Harry.

Panicked and scared, he shut his eyes tightly and couldn't help the words that stumbled out of his mouth, "Please don't kill me, please don't kill me!"

Oh Heavens, if his colleagues saw the way he pathetically begged for his life, he would drop his reputation much quicker than getting demoted to a lower rank.

"Oh, my little Cupid." chuckled Harry, dragging a single finger across Draco’s cheek with a butterfly touch. "I'm not going to kill you." His words spoke with amusement.

As if he would believe that. What kind of demon who would not kill their victims? He already had a hunch just what kind of creature Harry was, seeing his display of power and when he usually stumbled upon these creatures during his assignment, he would always stay away from trouble and avoid them. Low rank demons won't be able to detect a high rank Cupid like Draco, but having seen the way Harry handled the golden bow and the red flash of Harry's eyes was enough to break Draco’s magic, he knew that this man in front of him was anything but a low rank demon.

He never bothered himself with the underworld, as he didn't think it was important for him to know. He was only a subordinate of the Heavens' Realm after all; he received his assignment and he executed them. He viewed demons as other creatures of another realm, best to ignore.

However, as far as he knew, the Demon Regime was currently ruled by a new Demon King who overthrew its previous King; Voldermort. He was not one for gossip, but the war of the underworld five years ago was quite a huge scandal that even managed to reach his ear. He didn't know much about this new Demon King, but one thing that he was sure of; the Demon King possessed a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. A fact that even the Upper Officials knew. Knowing his luck, this seemingly high rank demon might be the Demon King himself.

With that, he pulled himself together and slowly blinked his eyes open, and subtly dragged his eyes to Harry's forehead. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw it was free from the infamous scar.

He startled when Harry suddenly laughed, tensed when the man dropped his head on his shoulder, burying his face into his neck. He squeaked embarrassingly when he felt hot lips brushing his skin before his eyes met with a pair of green eyes full with mirth.

He blinked when Harry grinned at him. Fucking hell, what an attractive demon.

"I can practically know what you're thinking," said Harry, chuckling.

"Let," tried Draco, and he took a deep breath before he put on a determined face. "Let go of me."

Harry merely hummed, not even bothered by Draco’s heated glare as he tightened his grip on Draco, pulling him even closer than before, closing all the spaces between them. Their bodies pressed tightly onto one another, and Draco felt his face hot all of a sudden, spreading down to his neck.

"I'm not going to let you go," said Harry, smiling when Draco frowned at him. "Not when I have you in my arms now."

Draco’s heart started to beat into a mad rhythmic. He wasn't sure if it was because he was scared of this creature or because of his words. He decided to pull himself together, despite trying his best not to drop his knees.

"What do you want from me?"

Harry's smile widened, eyes appeared mischievous as he answered, "You."

"I want you."

And a lightning bolt scar appeared on the man's forehead before he was pulled into a heated kiss.

---

TDKL

#drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry #drarry ship #drarry love #powerful harry #draco x harry #harry x draco #harry potter #draco malfoy #gay fanfiction #demon au #heaven au #demon king #cupid #hp fanfic #hp characters

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nieladasdenani · 3 years

Note

supercorp promt lena going over all the times kara/supergirl saved her life and how many ways shed be dead without her and realizing all the times kara/supergirl stood up for her/defended her in public and private and how she would have been treated like a luthor and put in jail without her help and just coming to the realization that kara didnt use her like she said she did because kara would not do all that if she had been using her and just all around having a big impact realization about it

Hello and thank you, Anon! This will be a challenge because I have seen very little of the show since season 3 and none of the last season whatsoever. All my knowledge comes from Tumblr posts. And because I have strong opinions of how the reveal was handled by both canon and part of fandom. So I hope it still meets your expectations.

You can read it in AO3 if you rather.

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

Lena’s hand trembles as she reaches for the bottle, so she clenches it in a tight fist and tries to take a deep breath to calm her mounting anxiety, though it doesn’t seem to have any effect. A sense of paranoia has her focusing her attention on the office door, expecting to hear the thunderous sound of trained boots rushing to get her, but nothing meets her ears. She sighs and tries to breathe deeper again. Then chances a look over her left shoulder at the balcony door, wide open, like a dare... or an invitation. If she turns completely, she’d be facing her desk, and on top of it lays Myriad, inactive. She knows she should have gone to Lex’s lair, where Hope in Eve’s body awaits to complete the mission. Would she be worried Lena hasn’t arrived? Confused?

“But, Miss Luthor, I am not your friend.” Lena scoffs at the memory and snatches the bottle and a glass.

“Neither was the person whose face you’re wearing, so I guess the integration was flawless.”

She drains the first glass of whiskey entirely in the first gulp and sits heavily on her pristine white couch. Mistake. There, on the floor, is the framed, cracked picture showing her smiling face, impossibly close to Kara’s own radiant expression. A stark difference to the one she was wearing when Lena left her in an iced kryptonite cell, inside her piece of home away from home: terrified, devastated. Some call it karma... Others call it revenge.

“Lena, please.”

Lena sighs again and closes her eyes after pouring a second glass, that she holds loosely in her right hand. Both her elbows rest on her knees, and her head hangs low. Was Kara scared for National City, the world? Or was she afraid Lena’s trap would kill her?

“Are you going to kill me now?”

Was she scared of Lena or for Lena? No doubt the DEO has a dark, hidden dungeon waiting just for her, where they can lock her in isolation, like her demented brother was before he escaped and wrecked havoc. Before she killed him... Of course Kara would be fine. Lena made sure the trap was safe. That the kryptonite was non-lethal. She made sure of it. It’s still an alien radioactive substance, though. No, no, she made sure. She studied Lex’s journals exhaustively. She’s working for good.

“I’m not a villain. You shouldn’t have treated me like one.”

So why does it feel like she’s doing something wrong? Non Nocere was conceived to remove one of humanity’s biggest flaws, to remove one of the primary reasons for suffering. She’s doing it for the greater good. She’s doing a good thing. So, why is she here and not finishing it up? Maybe because deep down she knows that, no matter how good her intentions, this is not the way, deceiving everyone to achieve her goal.-Using Kara. -Like she used me! -Did she? -Yes! She lied for years! -Do you realize you’re trying to convince yourself of this?

Lena’s whole head hurts from how hard she’s clenching her jaw. Kara lied for years. A Super and a Luthor. She must have been using her, why else would she have lied for so long? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and all that. The Luthor way. Making sure Lena walked the line. Saving your life, protecting you. Enough! Lena shakes her head again, harder, to silence the voice inside. It works, so she closes her eyes and sighs.

Then images start flashing: A helicopter spinning out of control towards the ground. The pilot unconscious, limp next to her. Bracing for a certain death that never comes.

“You’re safe now.”

Feeling suddenly sick. Knowing too late that something’s wrong with the coffee. Someone has posioned her and succeded at it. She clinging to consciousness, barely, dreaming of Kara saving her. Taking her in her arms and flying her up to safety.

“You were flying, and you were carrying me.”

Lena determined to protect Kara as they both face Mercy inside L Corp. They somehow managed to avoid the rain of bullets from the intruders and are now trapped in the labs with the armed enemy. But Lena’s armed too. She’l protect Kara, who seems eager to leave, which confuses Lena, she’s seen Kara square up to people before, especially to stand up for Lena. But she let’s her leave, she’ll be safer anyway. And then Supergirl is there, neutralizing Mercy in the blink of an eye.

“The Luthor name doesn’t deserve Lena.”

A half machine half man monstrosity trying to storm her newly rebranded company. She, braving an attempt at defense. An enormous metallic representation of said rebranding flying towards her, promising a sure, painful and fast death. She, bracing for the impact that never comes. Looking through her hands to see the Girl of Steel stumbling from the force of protecting Lena from it.

“Get out of here.”

She confronting Edge, who poisoned children in an attempt at getting back to Lena. She almost going through with killing him. Instead getting knocked out and strapped onto a doomed plane. Not only is she going to die, all her work to be good would be erased, her reputation. But, once more, it doesn’t come.

“No, I’m not going to drop you!”

Kara, sweet and dorky, suddenly stony facing Detective Sawyer, who’s come to take Lena into custody. Conviction in her blue eyes, sure of Lena’s innocence. Willing to face off with her sister’s girlfriend over it. Lena shocked at the protective display.

“Hold on, Maggie. Slow down. Just, let her explain.”

Supergirl trying to warn her of her mother’s terrorist endeavors. Not as in warning Lena to stir clear of it. Not as in warning her that she’s being watched. But as if to telling her to be careful, that she may be in danger. As if telling her Supergirl herself will protect her, if she’d let her.

“Be your own hero.”

She deliberatedly jumping off a cliff, after facing off with a terrorist organization. Pushing the buttom on the watch Kara gave her, to protect her, alway. With not a trace of doubt in her system that Kara would come to her rescue. Feeling the power of the lasers coming out of Kara’s eyes.

“What was that?”

Lena falling from her office balcony, thinking of her fear of heights, her fear of flying. Thinking of Kara listening to her falling to her death after a couple of her mother’s goons accidentally toppled her. Clutching to Kara’s voice as the last thing she hears. Until arms of steel catch her and making it feel like falling onto a cloud. Freezing breath rushing past her face, and still feeling warm.

“Dropped something?”

“I was having coffee with Kara Danvers.”

Lena, flanked by the Danvers Sisters coming into a dream realm to confront Sam’s demons. A monster wearing Sam’s face attacking them, lifting Lena by the neck, threateing to break it.

“Let her go! Take me, take me instead, please!”

Being kidnapped onto an alien ship. And invader alien ship. Almost forced to get married, to Kara’s boyfriend, no less. Getting rescued by Supergirl. Joining forces with her mom, who had previously joined forces with Supergirl, both putting their difference aside to save Lena. Creating a device that would eradicate the invading threat, but that included Kara’s love. Kara, devastated, but reassuring Lena that it was not her fault, that she did what she had to.

“Lena, you helped Supergirl save the world.”

Kidnapped by her mother, after being framed. Used to get to Lex’s arsenal of anti-alien weaponry. Supergirl crashing the site, knowingly risking her safety with Lilian, Metallo and Cyborg Superman surrounded by weapons designed to defeat a Kryptonian. Supergirl on her knees, in pain. Warning them of the risk of Metallo’s unstable kryptonite’s core. A potential explosion that could kill her. And still staying to carry Lena out of there, just in the nick of time.

“Kara Danvers believes in you.”

“You’re good, Lena.”

“So, my office is overflown with flowers.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

“I’ve never had friends like you.”

“I trust you.”

“Supergirl might have saved me. But you, Kara Danvers, you are my hero.”

Lena’s gasping, just now realizes she’s crying. What have I done? But there’s no time to think about it further. A crash coming from her balcony captures her attention, and she stands, drink still in hand, tears still rolling down her face. Supergirl struggles to keep upright: she’s pale, panting. Her eyes, as wild as her hair, searching her surroundings, until they find Lena. And it’s palpable how the relief fills Kara. Her shoulders sag and her eyes close.

“Lena.”

But Lena has not gotten over Supergirl, Kara’s state. And then she sees her hands. There’s blood and bruises there. There’s blood on Kara’s hands. Lena can’t take her eyes of the damaged limbs. She takes a couple of steps towards the hero.

“You’re bleeding.”

Kara seems to not have heard her. She looks at Myriad and lingers there. As if she’s trying to see through it. But can’t. She’s helping herself stay standing by bracing one shoulder on the balcony door. Turns to Lena again.

“Please, Lena. Don’t do this. Please.”

“Kara, you’re bleeding.”

“If you do this, Lena, if you do this there’s no going back.”

“Why are you bleeding?”

“Not like, for humanity. We’d be able to fix that. We’ve done it before. With Myriad. But for you, Lena. You’ll be devastated when your anger subsides.”

“Kara.”

“Please, Lena, you’ve worked so hard to leave your family’s bad name behind. It’ll be so much harder to come back if you do this.”

“Kara, stop.”

“No, no. You gotta listen. You can’t do this! It will hurt you!”

“Kara. You are bleeding!”

“What?” And finally, she looks down. At her hands. “Oh.”

Lena closes the distance between them. Takes Kara’s hands in hers. Inspects the damage. Her mind racing to understand what she’s seeing. Kara is Supergirl, she should not be bleeding. Now Lena can see that Kara is also shivering. From exertion or cold, Lena isn’t sure. Both, maybe. She’s still catching her breath.

“You punched your way out.” She says this and looks up at Kara’s face, she knows her eyes are wide with shock and her mouth is, too. A little. Lilian would be appalled. “Kara, why? The trap would have turned off in a couple of hours. I would never...”

“I know. I know but... it was so tight in there.”

“Tight?”

“The space was so small.”

“Oh. Oh! You’re... Are you claustrophobic?” Oh, no. No.

Kara shrugs, looks sideways at the desk. At Myriad. But she’s not trying to contain Lena, to restrain her. She’s not rushing to take Myriad, either. She’s trusting Lena to do listen, to do what’s right.

“Why? Kara why didn’t you... I didn’t know. I didn’t know if I would have. I would’ve not put you in there,”

“We both did things. Lena, I promise. I’ve only lied about my secret identity. And I know there’s no excuse, but I have plenty. And I’ll tell you all of them when you’re ready to hear them. But, please, you have to believe me: I never lied about us. I swear I was not using you. You must believe me, Lena, please!”

“I think I do, now. I’m... I’m still hurt and angry. But, I know. I realize you didn’t need to work so hard on protecting me. From experience, I know that masks fall faster than that. I was just... Hearing i from Lex, while I killed him was overpowering.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I gave him the chance to take that away from us. I’m sorry that yet again I was robbed of the opportunity to tell someone I love. And that it gave him such a way to hurt you. I’m sorry that it made you feel used and unloved. I love you Lena. I love you.”

Lena’s vision is blurry with tears. And it gets worse when Kara’s words paint a smile on Lena’s face. At some point she has dragged Kara to the couch, have them both sat down, and she’s yet to let go of the hero’s bruised hands.

“You do?”

“I do. Of course I do. I love you. I’d say it as much as you’d need.”

“Hold on.”

Lena stands despite Kara’s throughly confused expression. She raches for the first aid kit in the bathroom and sits back next to Kara. Starts tending to the wonds, a little worried that hey don’t seem to be healing by themselves. But not wanting to draw attention to it. Kara watches her work in silence, with the occasional flinch or hiss of pain.

“You may want to reconsider your offer. I don’t think I’ll ever tired of you saying it.”

Kara looks lost for a second, until her face clears of all confusion. She smiles.

“I don’t have a problem with that.”

“I’m going to have to work on myself and my issues, though. Before we can really start to explore our relationship. In whichever form you’re willing to have it.”

“I’ll have to work on my issues, too. And we’ll work together on our relationship. I’ll have whatever you’rewilling to give me.”

And Lena almost says I’ll give you everything out loud. She finishes up tending to Kara’s wounds. And sighs.

“When should I expect the DEO to come and get me?” Kara frowns at her.

“Why would they come and get you?”

“I imagine Alex wants my head after wha I did?”

“Ales doesn’t know.” But Lena’s is too shocked to respond. “We’ll go and stop everything about the Non Nocere project. You’ll get Hope out of Eve, and we’ll deliver her to the authorities. Then we’ll all work together to stop Leviathan. Then, maybe after we worked through our stuff anough, we can tell the story as a funny story.”

“There’s not one funny thing about what’s happened.” Lena deadpans, because...

“I’m sure I can make it funny. I’m charming like that.” And Lena loves her cocky side. Lena loves all of her sides, she’s come to realize.

“Yes, you’re hilarious.”

Kara’s phone goes off before she can sass back and Lena can hear Alex voice through the speaker.

“Kara, finally. I was getting worried I couldn’t reach you or Lena.”

“We’re ok.” She says while holding her eyes to Lena’s. “I told her.” There’s a sigh on the other end of the call. Not dissapointed, nor angry. Just a sigh.

“Ok. I know you’ve wanted to tell her for a while. And I know you feel like your secret affects more than just you, Kara. But it’s ultimately yours to share. We’ve all have done it for you enough times. I also know you’re worried about the DEO trapping Lena with the excuse of confidentiality. But I promise you I won’t let that happen. How did she take it?”

“Well... I mean, she’s hurt. And I think we’re goin to have to work that out. But...” She let’s the sentence hang for a second, looking at Lena, who nods. “But, we’ll be all right.”

“I know you guys will. Now, enough sentimentality. What about the plan?”

“We found Eve, we’re about to intercept her and bringing her into cosudy. Then we can start working on the rest of the bad guys.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you guys soon. Would you need back-up?”

“No, we’ve got it.” She ends the call and stands, walking towards the balcony. Lena stays put, an eyebrow lifting in amussement.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get Eve? Hope? Both?”

“We’re not flying, Kara. You can barely walk.” She can see Kara about to argue, so she activates the portal and gestures to it, expectantly. “Shall we?”

“Show-off.” Kara grumbles as she walks through it and Lena and her laugh follow her. Yes, they’ll be all right.

#Supercorp #Supercorp prompt #Supercorp fic #Anonymous

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theonetheycallhannah · 3 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 19: Debridement

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane begins to process life after her trauma, and Sy delivers the news of her safety to the people that matter most to her…but there is pushback on a few aspects of his report.

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Mostly fluff, but with mention of Shane’s trauma in the cellar. Not graphic.

Author’s Note: My darling readers! Thank you so much for your patience as I deal with seasonal stress, fatigue, anxiety, and some depression. It was my goal to have all chapters of this story done by the end of this year. I don’t think I’ll accomplish it, but I’ll do my very best to get at least one more chapter up by the 31st. 2020 has been a totally shit year, but I will forever owe it some remarkable things. This story, which has been an amazing escape from real life, the friends I’ve made from all over my country and the world, many of them because of this story, and a long overdue shift in my work hours starting next week. I’ll be glad to see the back of it, but the year has really opened me up to new ideas and some major soul-searching. I think, mentally, I’m actually more myself than I’ve ever been, despite some blue times. You can all take some credit for that improvement, because many of my moments of clarity have arisen from brilliant and profound posts here.

The title of this chapter seemed appropriate for a few reasons. Wounds are cleaned and cleared of damaged tissue during debridement. This is one of the steps usually required for a large and/or traumatic wound to heal. We see Shane beginning this process here in this chapter, and in a sense, Sy, as well. The cleansing of Shane in both the literal and figurative sense was so interesting and satisfying to write. And Sy’s bit at the end was a fun puzzle in which I had to figure out how to have Sy give the same news to four different recipients without sounding repetitive. I hope that landed, and if anyone has any suggestions, please let me know.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

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@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira@oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka @thisismysecretthirstblog @speakerforthedead0 @tumblnewby @suavechops @radkesgirl83 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @heartfelt-pen @auds24 @geekycanuck @lunarstarknight @wilma-g @coldmuffinbanditshoe @feralrunaway @sugarpenchant @bichibibi @mzchievous-blog @shesakillerkween @madbadidc7ed @foodieforthoughts @toomanyfandomsshreya

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Shane still felt as if her head was floating above her body, like a balloon on a long string. The combination of meds in her system had helped many of her symptoms. The pain she felt, the physical pain, had been alleviated. Her troubled mind had been put at ease, more or less. But that was a long time ago. And unfortunately, the side effects weren't wearing off at the rapid rate of the intended ones.

As she sat in the SUV--the escape vehicle-- parked outside a large building the size of a small airplane hangar, she tried not to think about what Sy and his pals were discussing just outside the vehicle. She tried not to reflect on the past few days that she had convinced herself would be her last. She tried not to think about what -- or, really, who -- was inside that building.

She thought about seeing Elliott again. The man who had planned to kill her, and almost succeeded. A part of her wished he had, because she wasn't sure she knew who she was anymore. She was a stranger to herself. And living like this seemed so much more difficult than a quick painless death. She couldn't bear the thought of being in view of him.

But another part of her wanted to go in there and end his life herself. That part of her could pull the trigger on a gun aimed at his head. That part of her could bury a knife in his kidney, or sever an artery. Her anatomy and physiology courses could serve her well here. She had dangerous knowledge. Maybe that's why doctors often seem so full of themselves. They possess the knowledge to end life, and yet they choose to save it. It sort of puts things into perspective. Maybe they're justified in their hubris.

Still one more part simply wanted to go home, clean up, and lay naked in her soft sheets with Sy wrapped around her. Warmer and more comforting than any blanket had ever been. She had remembered missing him so much. She thought now about his gentle, loving hands on her, his mouth tasting her so delicately, his…

But then her mind was ripped from the sensual thoughts of Sy and back to her horrific memories from that cellar. The hands of strangers, rough and hateful, their mouths full of words like bile or the grunts of their own violent fulfillment.

Her nightmare of a daydream was abruptly interrupted by the opening of the back passenger door. She jumped, and looked at the source of the noise with wide-eyed terror. It was only Sy, but she couldn't school her face into a softer expression, even after realizing she was safe.

"Oh, Sunshine, I'm so sorry I startled ya! You okay?"

She said nothing, just let out her held breath woefully.

"Let's head home. I'll get your purse and bag of clothes here."

"I don't want those clothes. Throw them away. And these shoes are going in the trash as soon as possible, too."

"Okay. I'll toss it. You sure?"

"I never want to see that bag again. I'm positive."

He nodded, grabbed her purse, and went around to help her out of the vehicle.

One of Sy's friends approached them from the building.

"You guys okay? You'll make it home alright?"

"Yeah, Matt, we'll be okay. I'll be in touch soon about next steps."

"You got it, Captain. Anything you need, let us know."

"Will do. Thanks for everything you've already done. I owe ya."

"You don't owe me a thing, brother. You don't owe any of us. Not after everything you've done for all of us…for everyone."

Sy just nodded at Matt, and turned toward his truck, steadying Shane all the way to the passenger door.

The drive to Shane's house was quiet. Sy kept one hand on the wheel, holding hers in the other. She felt safe, but she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling inside her. Like the other shoe would soon drop, and her love would be taken away again.

When they were safely parked in her driveway, Sy took her keys out of his pocket, apparently having gotten them from his friend who'd drove her car from Elliott's to the airplane hangar place. He walked around to get her, and helped her to her door. She kicked off her shoes immediately when she stepped inside her shadowy living room. She had left the same lamp on that she always did, but it was dimmer now, having been on almost a whole week.

"Bath?" Sy asked. Shane nodded slowly. She would need a long soak to erase this feeling.

Sy got the bath water ready while she found some clothes to put on after. She laid her comfiest lounge pants and her favorite sweat shirt on the bed and walked toward the bathroom. She was soon hit with the comforting aroma of lavender, chamomile, and vanilla as soon as she stepped through the doorway. He had used her favorite bubble bath and salts.

"Check that water temp. I think it's about right." he requested. It was perfect. She started to peel off the stiff paper scrubs she was still wearing, but he insisted on helping her. As she stood before him, even though he'd seen every inch of her body before, she felt more naked and exposed than ever. She looked at him, noticed tears welling in his eyes, and dropped her gaze to the bath mat under her feet. Her skin, typically immaculately clear, olive perfection, was now peppered with dozens of bruises. She felt like a dalmatian, covered in spots. She chuckled inside herself at the thought of one of her favorite Disney films featuring the breed most heavily.

Sy's strong, but gentle hands landed softly on her upper arms. His lips lit tenderly on her forehead. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded and stepped into the large, garden tub full of steaming water. It stung her feet, ankles, and calves, but she still bent to sit, wincing as her tender petals and behind met the medicinal broth. Sy held her hand as she stepped in and guided her down. She closed her eyes at the soothing pain of the hot water and did not open them until she felt the water level rise. Sy had stepped in with her, wearing just his boxer-briefs, and was sitting on the side of the tub. He reached for the hand shower, and turned the water back on, slightly less warm, but still soothing and soaked her hair, directing the water away from her face. He had thought to grab her shampoo from the shower, as well, and was lathering some up in his hands to apply to her wet strands. It felt like heaven to have his fingers in her hair like this. Relaxing and soporific. He kept at it until she was certain he must be getting pruney, not to mention tired.

After carefully rinsing her hair of the coconut-scented lather, he grabbed the lavender foam bath she loved, and worked it up in one of the wash cloths he'd brought from the linen caddy between the sink and shower. He massaged the suds into her tired and injured skin over her back, then requested each leg in turn, kneading her calves and feet as she took another of the cloths and washed her face with the rich cleanser she kept by the bath, typically using it only on her "spa days" but feeling that it would nourish her battered cheeks and nose better than anything else. Sy's ministrations filled her with a kind of blissful contentment. She couldn't help but wonder if she deserved him. She always had thought she deserved the best things in life, even though her romantic past didn't tend to pan out that way. She'd worked very hard and often allowed herself to invest in quality. But now…she felt broken, in spite of herself. She'd have to tell Sy all that happened to her one day, and when that day came, he'd probably realize how damaged she really was, and he'd leave. Just like everyone else always did. She knew the conversation needed to come sooner rather than later, but couldn't bring herself to break the spell yet.

Sy let her soak for as long as she was comfortable until the water grew tepid. She looked up to him, sitting on the side of the tub, legs now outside, his gaze like twin seas met hers. He had been watching her, it seemed. As if worried that she would dematerialize if he looked away. Her bath robe was draped across his lap, as was a large bath towel. She moved to stand from the now chilled bath water, and Sy was immediately up to aid her rising. He held her hand as she stepped out of the tub and dried her top half before helping her don the robe, then continued to dry her bottom half.

"Go on in there and get comfortable, Sunshine. I have a few phone calls to make. I wanna let your folks know you're okay and I wanna tell Detective Clarkson you've been found. Anyone else you want me to get in touch with?"

"Umm, do you know if my brother and sister know what's happened to me?"

"They do. They should both be at your parent's house by now from what I gathered when I visited."

"Okay, so mom or dad will let them know. I guess you should call Susan, and let her know that I'm alive but won't be in this week. On my fridge, there's a phone directory for everyone in my department. But first, call Heather. I don't want her to worry any longer. Call her right after mom and dad. And tell them all I'll have them over tomorrow, but I can't tonight. I'm…"

She didn't even know what she was. Tired, sore, depressed, hopeless, and angry. A combination of so many feelings and emotions coursed through her.

"I'll work it out. You get in bed, and I'll be back in when I'm done with these calls, okay?" she nodded. He continued, "I love you, darlin.'" and wrapped his arms around her, making her feel almost whole again.

"I love you." she replied. Holding back tears until he had left the room.

~~~~~~

Shane realized she hadn't brushed her teeth in…far too long. She donned her sleeping clothes and went into the bathroom again to complete a comprehensive oral hygiene routine. Sy had been gone for about a half hour, during which time, his absence felt like a noose around her neck. Or an anvil on her chest. It made it feel like hours had passed rather than mere minutes. She was fidgety. When he finally re-entered, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do you need anything, sweet pea?"

"Just you."

Sy crawled under the covers with Shane to spoon her, arm laying over her rib cage. She winced, as the bruises on her torso were disturbed at the contact, but she didn't ask him to adjust. Despite the dull pain, this was what she needed. Sy's protecting arm around her.

"Did you get a hold of everyone?" She asked, sleepily.

"I did. Your family are eager to see you, but they understand your need for rest. Heather says that you better let her come over soon, because she's holding your phone hostage until you pay her in hugs. They all send their love."

"And Susan?"

"Yeah, that woman is a piece of work, I know, but I think she's going to come through for you. She's going to have them hold off on scheduling patients with you until you're better, and put both weeks in as vacation. She said you have plenty of it. But also, if you need more time, she can work out some…family medical leave…thing? She said she'd get the ball rolling on that, and will let you know what you need to do on your end."

"Oh, good. Yeah, she can be an asshole, but sometimes she does right by her employees. What about the detective?"

Sy paused there. "I, uh, I talked to him for quite a while and he said a lot of things. Let's go over the finer points tomorrow at breakfast. Or, rather, today." He said, looking at the blue numbers on the glowing digital clock on Shane's nightstand that indicated the wee hours of the morning were running out. "I'm sure we're both tired enough to grab a few winks, ain't we?" He asked, and she hummed her ascent as she tucked herself closer to his warm, monolithic chest.

As Shane drifted off, she thought she felt a warm kiss, and a whisper at her temple. It sounded like a tearful prayer. She was too far into her sleep to comprehend the words being said.

"Thank you God," Sy whispered. "I know I'm not your most faithful servant, but I am truly grateful that you've kept this treasure of mine alive and brought her back to me. Thank you for reuniting me with the woman I mean to spend the rest of my days with, if she'll agree to it. Thank you."

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

About Thirty Minutes Ago-

Sy left the bedroom and began scrolling through his phone for the Benton's number. He pressed the call button with joy.

"Sy?" John answered frantically, just as he did the first time Sy spoke to him.

"John, is everyone there?"

"Yeah, we're all just watching a movie in the family room. Do you have news?"

"I do. You may want to put me on speaker, because everybody's going to want to hear this."

"Okay." and after a brief struggle with the speaker button and help from two younger people Sy presumed were Ethan and Gabby, John was back with the whole family. "Okay, Sy, we can all hear you. What's the word?"

"Oh, it's a very good word, guys. I found Shane and she is alive, and now safe." Cheering from what sounded like a stadium full of fanatics resounded from the ear piece of his cell phone.

"Sy, this is Gabby, Shane's sister. Can we come see her now?" Gabby's tears were evident in her voice. He wished he could tell them yes. But Shane needed her rest.

"I know she would love to see you, Gabby, she'd love to see all of you, but I think what she needs right now is rest. She's been through…a terrible ordeal. I took her to the Emergency Room to get checked out, and she just had a bath and is about to go to bed. She'll want to see you all tomorrow, though. Maybe around lunch time?"

"That sounds good, Sy. We'll bring some of this food over." John said.

"Are you sure we can't come over tonight? I…I want to see my daughter with my own eyes." Margaret said, weepily.

"I truly wish I could tell you yes, Peg, but she's hardly slept the last week, and just had her first full meal since she was taken this evening at the hospital. I really think it's best for everyone if you guys wait until tomorrow when she's more herself and rested." Sy reiterated.

"What about the people who did this to her?" a male voice he didn't recognize asked, assured to be Ethan. "Any leads on them?" He wanted to tell them that most of the men had been dealt with using lethal or nearly lethal force, and that the perpetrator of Shane's misery was locked up in Matt's shop bathroom until they decided just how to take care of him. But he needed to disclose what he knew to as few people as possible.

"The less y'all know, the better. For your own good. At least right now. Just know that whatever justice has not yet been served, it will be very soon."

"That's good enough for me." John offered, in an apparent attempt to bring Ethan on side.

"Thanks, John. I'll take care of her tonight. I won't leave her side. I promise."

"Thank you, son." John replied. Sy appreciated the tender address, but wondered how Ethan felt about his father referring to someone else as his son. Probably not that great. He couldn't worry about that now.

"It's my sincerest pleasure. I want you to know that. She's my world now. I won't let anything else happen to her."

"We know, dear." Peg added.

"Good night. And we'll see y'all tomorrow."

Four incoherent replies rang out before he ended the call. Next was Heather.

"Hello?" she answered in sleepy confusion.

"Heather?"

"Who'sis?"

"It's Logan Syverson. Sy? From PT. Shane's boyfriend."

"Sy! Oh, it's good to hear from you! Any news?"

"The best news, darlin.' Our girl is alive, and home safe." he smiled ear to ear saying the words, but it quickly turned into a wince when Heather shouted for joy in his ear. It was fine. Not like he didn't already have mild tinnitus.

"Oh my GOD! I'm coming over right now!"

"No, Heather, she's resting. She told me she'll see people tomorrow, but I don't think anyone but you and her family should be allowed in right now. She's…well, she's been through seven levels of Hell, and when I look into her eyes, I can still see the fire."

"Shit. Anything I can do?"

"She'll be thrilled to see ya. But tomorrow."

"She better. I have her phone and the ransom is a thousand hugs."

"That's a steep debt." Sy chuckled.

"She can owe me for a while." Heather laughed. "Is she okay?"

What a loaded question. Physically, she was injured, but would heal. Emotionally, that would be more of a journey.

"Honestly, Heather? Not really. The physical stuff is more or less superficial, but…I'm worried about her mental state."

"Poor thing. Please let me know if I can do anything. Anything at all. She's like a sister to me."

"I will. For now, keep the news and the details quiet. I'm gonna call Susan next, and I don't think she'll like it if you know before she does. Just a hunch."

"An accurate one. She'd be furious. I'll keep mum. Thanks so much for putting my mind at ease, Sy. Take care of her."

"I'll do my best. See ya."

He was dreading talking to Susan the most. More than Clarkson. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but she'd really pissed him off every other time he'd talked to her, and he really didn't think too much of her.

"Hello, this is Susan."

"Hey, Susan, it's Logan Syverson. Shane's boyfriend." He made sure to put the label in there. Remind her that her policy had not been enough to keep them apart.

"Mr. Syverson. Hello. What can I do for you?" her haughty tone was softened a measure with concern for her employee. Even though she didn't ask about her in so many words, he knew that she was wondering.

"Nothing. I just wanted to let ya know, Shane's okay. She's been hurt, and won't be in this coming week, at least. She's in some pain right now, of both a physical and emotional nature."

"What happened?"

"She, uh, hasn't given me a lot of details." Not a lie. "She just escaped from her captor and we found each other." Misleading, but mostly true. "We just got home from the ER." Perhaps a lie by omission of the stop off at Matt's. "They said she'd be okay, but to follow up with her primary for more tests."

"Okay, I'll make sure her schedule is cleared. She has plenty of PTO for these two weeks, but I'll call the FMLA office in charge of family medical leave and short term disability and let them know she'll need some more time off, and see if we can get that going. I'll get with her about the details, and what she'll need to do. I'll text her sometime this week. How's she doing?" Sy thought he heard genuine concern from this dragon woman.

"About as well as someone who's been kidnapped, tortured, and assaulted for a straight week can possibly be, I'd say." Sy's words were civil, but tinged with venom. Even though she was being decent right now, he knew the kind of person she could be.

"Dear God." Susan gasped, shocked at the statement, and Sy wasn't sure whether it was due to the events themselves, or the blunt way he'd told her about them. "Well, I'll do anything I can to help her though this on my end. She's one of my best. I can't…I really don't think I could replace her."

"I'm glad you don't have to try, Susan. Have a nice evenin.'"

"Thanks, Sy, you too."

Sy took a deep breath as he pulled up Clarkson's number and called him. He honestly wasn't completely certain how he was going to explain things, but he'd figure it out. He was good at flyin' by the seat of his pants.

A gruff voice came from the ear piece. "Clarkson."

"Detective, this is Captain Syverson. We spoke about the Benton case a few days ago?"

"I remember you, Sy. What's up?"

"Oh, uh, well, wanted to tell ya you could close the case. I found her." It was the coming conversation in which he would really have to bend the truth or lie altogether.

"Really?! Oh, that's great, man. Where'd ya find 'er."

"I's drivin' 'round, hopin' to come across some lead or sign of her. I was a few miles down highway 100 when I saw a slumped form in one of the ditches. I pulled off at the next drive and went back to check, and it was her. She was hurt, but once she recognized me…I dunno, everything's kind of a blur after that. But I got her checked out at the ER, and brought her home now." Most of that statement was false…but not the recount of them seeing each other for the first time. That was a very real and true fact.

"Highway 100?"

"That's right. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I heard about a terrible, two-vehicle accident on Highway D tonight. No survivors."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." He wasn't. "I hope there weren't any kids involved." He knew there weren't.

"Nope. All adult males, aged 30-40. Couple of SUVs. One ran off the road, and another…well, it's almost like it was blown up on purpose. Happened just a few miles from town."

"That sounds horrible, but what does an accident on Highway E--"

"It was D. Highway D." Sy knew it was, and had said the wrong thing on purpose.

"My mistake. My question though, is what does that…tragedy have to do with my finding Shane on Highway 100?"

"That's what I'm wondering, myself, Syverson. See, there was some…evidence that suggests military involvement in this incident."

"Well, I'm retired."

"Are you though? Is anyone ever really retired from the armed forces. No veteran I've ever talked to can seem to shake off the war shackles."

"Well, I ain't shackeled, detective. I'm proud of my time serving my country, but I got no cause to relive it or hang on to it. Especially now that I have Shane. She's my life now. That part of it’s over."

"I guess I have to take you at your word, captain. Got no evidence so far that ties you to the scene. Just…be careful. If you do anything retaliatory to Miss Benton's captor or captors, I won't be able to protect you, no matter how I feel about your actions. Or how justified they might be."

"Understood. I will keep that in mind should I decide to take matters into my own hands." he tried not to let the smile on his face show in his voice.

"Right, well…is she okay?"

"I, uh…I think she will be…eventually. She hasn't said much to me about what happened, but I know it was torture, or akin to it. "

"Well, I hope she recovers quickly. I'll want a statement from her before I close the case."

"Sure thing. As soon as she's ready to talk."

"Great. Thanks for the call, Sy. I'm glad she's safe now. That's all that matters, really."

"Agree. Have a good night, Clarkson."

He ended the call and rubbed his face as head in frustration with his free hand. They'd have to come up with a story. A good one. Close enough to the truth that Shane could feel comfortable telling it, but far enough of a departure that they weren't incriminated in any kidnapping, murder, or manslaughter charges.

But for tonight, they’d rest. And just be glad to be together again.

Up Next: Chapter 20-Second Assist

#Sand Castle #netflix sand castle #captain syverson #Captain Syverson x OFC #sigh for sy #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Eight | Dating Start! (Part 3 of 3)

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Thankful he seems to be taking this just as seriously as you are, you begin with, "Back at that restaurant, you mentioned you could've most likely hurt anyone who passed beyond the Ruins, regardless of who they were, right?" He nods, so you add, "Why did you choose not to hurt Frisk, if that's the case? What…. What stopped you this time around?

"It used to be like that, yeah," he says, blunt. "But I made a promise not to do that not long after I was assigned to the job. Not that I even, well, favour killing innocent people to begin with, but that was the job assigned to me back then."

"And couldn't you have searched for another solution?" You're left in disbelief and think on how closely his words match with the rumours beginning to rise about monsterkind, most of it leaked by people like the man on the bus after your hospitalization -- through clips and videos of your incident at the bus, all of these posted on social media. "Just how many lives did you take before you made that promise?"

Your initial, more tolerant view of Sans diminishes the longer you give thought to that interrogative.

Monsters were said to be merciful and kind, yet the first rumour you unmasked as true since that day at the restaurant was that of Asgore having ordered to kill seven humans for their souls?

"You-" you stutter, ire clouding both coherent thinking and structure alike. "You're just another hypocrite, aren't you?"

You peer down at him, his shorter height helping you maintain authority from within.

"Frisk talks all about how kind, nice, and friendly you monsters supposedly are, but in the end, you- you've spilled just as much as blood as any other human being." Your voice breaks, the thought of Frisk passing away in the hands of a monster sending further ire down your body. "Frisk could've died in the hands of people like you, so I have no right to listen to how you deserve seeing them again, let alone a goat lady who claims she sees them as her child instead of mine." The thought of Sans being more guilty of a person than you once thought crumbles whatever kind view you had since meeting him. "I… I refuse to let Frisk see any of your kind again!"

A near foreign expression reaches his face just then -- almost hurt weren't you so used to him being all chill and unbothered a solid ninety-nine point nine percent of the times you've been around him. You refuse to believe he's been hurt by your words, though that changes when you see him recover from that expression once you don't show any signs of backing away from what you said. His irises turn dim, though he tries to recover with a soft breath out.

"And then... That's it?" he asks, masking whatever emotion he was feeling just a second ago. "So even those who haven't done anything bad get repercussions for it?" The patience in his tone snaps, though his expression remains the same, mellow and waiting for you to regain some calm yourself. "Humans have done more harm than we ever have. Asgore did that just so we could be set free."

"And you think that makes you guys doing it justifiable? Maybe six deaths seems trifling over your freedom, but did you consider those people before ending their lives?" You're quite frankly pissed now, incapable over -- and unwilling of -- hearing him speak without wanting to snap at him with every response he gives you. "Did they willingly sacrifice themselves for your kinds' freedom, or did Frisk have to fall down here and make you understand none of this was ever okay?"

The monster tries to reach a hand out for you, yet you avoid him, only realizing why he does that when you trip, hitting the edge of the river. He grabs your arm to make up for it, though you prove to be too heavy for him, sending you both to the water. A loud splash accompanies your fall, yet the strangeness of not feeling wet prompts you to open your eyes then, these having instinctively closed the second you tripped. Limbs left uncovered sting with the strength of the fall rather than over water splashing you, and that observation finally makes you look around to witness a thin veil of blue magic keeping you from falling into the water.

"I get that, as a parent, you're overreacting right now, but I'll stand by what Frisk's said about you and what I've learned about you since we've met." A beat of silence passes as he waits for you to calm down. "I know you're still a patient person underneath all that you're pullin' off on me."

"All that what, exactly?" you ask, a glare returning to your face. "And you think I'm overreacting? Didn't you hear what I said?"

"I heard you, and I know my kind's gonna pay for the damage they caused to other people." You try not to wiggle away and stay under him with how fragile his magic seems, so you're forced to look up at him as he stays hoisted over you. His hands are kept suspending the faint, magic veil, preventing the two of you from falling into the water. "If it makes ya feel any better, I'll let you in on a weakness I've got."

He sits up on the veil and takes your arm again, trying to sit you down with him. You resist, waiting until he stands up and walks back to firm land for you to do the same.

"My magic relies on Karma, meaning I couldn't possibly do you nor your kid any damage, if I even tried."

With him sounding so tired now, you can't decipher much over his change in tone. He has his back turned to you all the while, though his magic remains underneath you, still keeping you from falling into the water. His hands slip into his pockets and his veil disappears only after you climb out of it and make it back to stable ground.

"If nobody does any damage, then nobody gets hurt. Simple as that. Your kid didn't hurt a fly goin' through the Underground, so even if I would've attempted to hurt them in any way, it wouldn't've had any effect."

You find it hard to believe him, yet follow along for the moment, eager to see where this would lead on to. "...So that means it doesn't work the same for all monsters?" You pause, considering his words and the abilities his younger brother had shown when play-fighting with Frisk the last time you picked them up at Toriel's home -- the day Frisk managed to convince you over continuing to be tutored by both Toriel and Sans alike. Thinking back on that day also brings back the memory of the gift Sans had given you, though you brush it off as quick as it comes to avoid being influenced by any of it.

Clearly, Papyrus was capable of attacking no matter what the circumstances were if he could use his magic to simply play around with Frisk, but then what about him?

What made Sans the exception?

"What are you supposed to be, then?"

"That's a bit of a rude question, don't ya think?" He turns back to you, an amused glint present in his gaze and grin. "No offense, pal, but I'm tryna be patient with ya here. And you're makin' it hard by being so stubborn." He chuckles, winking at you. "Though I guess that makes sense, considerin' how determined Frisk is. Like parent like child, huh?" His gaze lingers on yours as he says that. "We'll hafta go to Hotland now to make that fiery attitude and hotness of yours match with the climate."

"...Did you just wink at me?" You tense up, the lilt you catch in his words worsening your assumptions over that action.

Of course, you'd seen Sans do that countless times before -- regardless of family, friend, or even yourself at certain times -- but his current tone and the subtle and upward, goofy curve to his grin makes it feel as if he's far from being friendly about it. "Oh, God. Are you hitting on me for real now, Serif?"

Finally, for what once seemed like a skeleton too laid-back for his own good, he shows shock through the tense of a smile and the flicker of his irises. His posture turns awkward and confidence vanishes from it, only masked surprise remaining.

"...What?" That's the only thing he manages to say, gaze landing on your hand, a ring found on it. "Whoa, whoa, whoa there, pal," he blurts out, a chuckle bursting through, more nervous than humoured in comparison to past times. "Don't, uh, jump to conclusions so fast. I know Jerry's not in the picture anymore, and I dunno if you're seeing someone else right now, but..." He falls flat on his words, a hand going to the back of his skull, scratching it as a befuddled look overcomes him. "Are you? 'Cause ya found me out, if ya really did think I was flirtin' for real now."

"I'm not seeing anyone," you reply, letting out a sigh as you bring a hand to your nose, massaging the bridge in search of calm. "But what made you think it was okay to try and flirt with me now of all times, if I'm here barking at you like this? Sucking up to me won't erase my anger." You let go of your nose, forehead creasing as you take a quick breath in and chest tightening when you try to let your pride and grudges go, needing more humility for your next statement. "I'm eternally grateful your kind looked after Frisk while I wasn't there, but I just... I simply can't let things like what Asgore ordered to be done to my kind or even what Alphys supposedly did to her own kind slip by. I know I'm still only just figuring stuff out, but if these rumours have some truth in them, I… I don't think I'll be able to let this go so easily."

"So you acknowledge you're overreactin' a lil'?"

"I'm not. I'm simply calling your kind out on their hypocrisy."

Sans returns his hand back against his neck and stretches it; how restless he looks makes you believe he's close to running out of ways over getting back into good terms with you.

When he lets go and huffs, patience returns, though not nearly at the same level as when he first approached you about the subject. "Even so, I... I'd say you're still overthinkin' some stuff up. Tori didn't even say she wanted to keep Frisk's custody all for herself. She just wants to see the kid every once in a while -- like she's doin' right now."

Notwithstanding, you place your hands on your hips and refuse to let your scowl fall, your display of gratitude from earlier ago seemingly nowhere present anymore. "Say what you want, but I still think it's ridiculous I have to let this matter go just like that."

He rests his back against a nearby, rocky wall, gaze facing down and focusing on a puddle. "Have it your way, then. I still think Frisk should decide if they want to see us or not again. 'Cause at the end of it all, they proved themselves capable enough to free us from the Underground all by themselves, and that's enough for me to give them merit over their capabilities for a lifetime."

You don't say anything back and lay against the rock next to him, eyes landing on the waterfall and the river bubbling with its force.

While you knew it was unreasonable to prevent Frisk from seeing every monster around rather than a few of them, you refuse to give in anymore. Pride over being right in your judgement drowns every other sense of amiability. You had to stand your ground now that you'd gone this far; backing away would only show your weakness.

Silence keeps itself between you for some time, broken by him not long after your mind comes up with the idea of exploring the Underground on your own. Having him show you around didn't seem so fitting anymore. "So... You're really not seeing anyone else? But then why the ring?"

His question takes you off guard, until you think back as far as three whole years ago, back when Frisk was still a toddler. They'd used two quarters to buy you a faux silver ring rather than the bubblegum they mentioned they wanted to try out; they gave it to you with as much pride as they did when telling you about a good grade or deed, and to quote, "It's to replace the one you had before!" -- 'one' referring to the one you stored away for emergency funds not long after ending things with Jerry. To this day, it's still right where you hid it -- and thankfully so. You hoped then and even now you still hope over never having to sell that ring away for funds; not because of any emotional attachment whatsoever, but due to you wanting to strive your best in order for Frisk to live a good life.

It's almost a vital part of you now, and -- hadn't Sans asked you about it -- you wouldn't've acknowledged it to such an extent.

You quirk a brow as you give thought to his question -- sounding genuine despite how blatant it is -- and find it difficult to answer despite how long it's been. Caught on a weak spot, you cross your arms and look away the second you meet with his irises, beyond embarrassed. "Frisk, um... Frisk gave it to me as a gift -- some time after my divorce."

"Ah." It's almost as if you can feel when his posture tenses again, a strain present in that sole sound he lets out. "Sorry 'bout asking."

Again, he sounds earnest, though you're not about to befriend your antagonist. "It's alright. But please don't try to flirt my anger away ever again."

A more brazen look takes him over, and you can only brace yourself for whatever he plans to say next, his intent on pissing you off clearly set on high. You engage in a staring contest as you wait, arms now crossed in a more defiant manner -- firm over your chest. If the monster said you were stubborn, by the Sky above, you would stay true to it. If he was set on teasing you to such an extent, you would do the same, multiplied by ten. An easy fight was in no way an honourable one.

"Enemies to lovers is a thing, though."

"Only in low-quality romcoms."

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#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

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rhabakoli · 4 years

Text

The Silk Thing

smut. 18+. I’m planning to leave you all hot an wanting so beware. This takes place after @dreamwritesimagines‘ last (i think) chapter of Beautiful & Damned, which you can find on her blog, her masterlist, etc.

thanks to @riviawitch3r for proofing and not virtually punching me when my writing was.. meh. thanks, man, appreciate it.

His hands on her were warm, even with the leather gloves on. She could still feel it seep into her skin, could feel how it affected her. Goosebumps broke out shivers wracking through her body obvious even to someone without the heightened senses of a Witcher. She grimaced at her body's reaction, wished she could have hidden it better, but Geralt didn’t comment.

Instead he backed away, cleared his throat.

“You can get up now, Princess.” He stood, packed away the vial. “I’ll ride out tomorrow to find that wretched witch, put an end to this. She’ll have to explain those signs to me.”

She got up, wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to appear less inappropriate. Then, a thought occurred to her, and she turned toward the man. “Geralt, if the mark’s purpose is to protect me from humans, shouldn’t I be able to touch animals?”

He stopped in his tracks, looked up at her. “Perhaps. But I’d rather not have you walk around and test that theory. “

Those words hit her harder than she liked, the implications behind them were a punch to the gut. “Right. Wouldn’t want the monster to kill any more beings.”

As soon as his brain registered the words, he dropped his satchel and briskly walked over. “Shut up.”

She recoiled, but he cupped her face in the most gentle manner, and tilted her face up.

“Look at me.”

Oh, she did. She couldn’t not.

“You are not a monster. I don’t want you to have another death on your hands, because I think it will break your beautiful heart, princess.”

His eyes lingered on her face, taking in the color of her eyes, the shape of her eyebrows, the swoop of her nose and her lips. Fuck, her lips. Plush, inviting, wet from the way she nervously liked them.

He found it impossible to look away. Absolutely impossible.

“Geralt.”

She watched him watch her, took in the way he tensed, how his massive figure hunched over slightly, and how his nostrils flared, before his eyes were set ablaze.

Maybe people could look at others with desire in their eyes. Maybe Fin was right after all. It made her feel naked, bare. Her temperature rose, her heart sped up, she felt powerful; In a weird way. To think that she could have such an effect on a man like the witcher? On a man who was dangerous, hard to manipulate or influence, experienced and – to be wholly honest – downright hot?

He was a tall glass of water on a stifling summer day.

Geralt shifted, one of his hands changing position, fingers sliding along her cheek to the back of her head, into her hair. She could feel his fingers flexing, pressing harder, letting go, as if he was fighting himself.

And he was. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. They both knew he couldn’t touch her. But hell and every monster in it, did he want to. To kiss those lips, feel her skin under his fingers… It was ripping him apart, it was burning him from the inside out, the need an all-consuming fire in his chest. Her scent was pulling him closer, taunting him, making him imagine how much better she’d smell if it was his own that clung to her.

He groaned, ducked his head. “I wish I didn’t need gloves.”

Her eyes went round, her pretty mouth parted in a surprised gasp. “What?”

A smile stretched his lips, but it looked almost animalistic, like a wolf preying on a deer. Never had it felt so good to be prey, she thought. The hair on her arms stood, shivers rolled down her back, her focus solely on his hands on her.

And then his voice, rough and smokey, but gentle, like thunder and honey mixed into a glass.

“I wish I knew the touch of your hands. I wish I knew the feel of your skin. I bet it’s soft.”

He filled all of her view, all muscle and temptation rolled into a delicious package of billowing linen and a dashing, clean cut black and silver brocade doublet. Whoever picked it for him deserved an award.

He filled all her senses, her lungs filled with his scent; leather, herbs, warm earth like the forest on a warm autumn afternoon, and underlying sweat. It was mouth watering and comforting, and it made her want to find out what he tasted like.

“Geralt-“, she swallowed, tried to focus. “Were you serious? About your heart?”

“Yes.”

One hand left her face, arm wrapped around her waist to pull her closer. She was so fragile in his arms, so pure against his bloodied self.

“And I want to heal yours.”

She snorted at that, very unladylike, and reached to grab his hand, mindful of his thin shirt. “No need to, Geralt. It wasn’t broken. It just wasn’t with me anymore.”

She was an open book he wanted to spend the rest of his life reading; studying her every pore, every curve of her body, every thought of her mind. He wanted to caress her, like the soft pages of a well read book, take care of her and keep her safe from wilting and the burn of betrayal. Her face was so open, so vulnerable, it felt like the softest touch of a lover’s hand as she took in every detail of his face, while she waited for his reaction when she added the words that would inevitably lead to their downfall.

“It was with you the whole time.”

And then it was as if a dam had broken. His grip on her tightened immediately, his face fell. He groaned, closed his eyes and tried to stomp down on the urge to just fucking ravish her on the spot. “You can’t just fucking say something like that. Not when I’m not able to touch you like I want, princess. Like you deserve to.”

There was so much fondness and restraint in his voice, her knees grew weak. Geralt pushed back hair that fell into her eyes, tucking it back behind her ear. “I’m not good with being teased, princess.”

How was that little head tilt so adorable? He wasn’t supposed to be adorable, what the hell.

Especially not when he was using that voice like he did. “Even my patience has its limits.”

A thumb traced her lower lip, his eyes burning a path into them.

“Where’s the handkerchief? The silk one?”

She turned her head and nodded towards her vanity. “Over there.”

He let go of her, but his eyes never left her. She was nailed to the spot, unable to move, unable to look away from his stare; didn’t want to.She wanted him to look at her forever, never let go of her, never let her out of his sight, not when it meant to be close to him, so beloved by him, to be safe and protected. He gave her a little nudge, a sharp nod in the vanity’s direction made her move. Who could ever refuse to obey Geralt?

So she did, and almost stumbled over her own feet in her haste. She caught herself though and pretended nothing happened, which made Geralt shake his head with such a soft look in his eyes, it was confusing.

For someone who wasn’t supposed to have feelings, he let her see quite a lot of what he felt. The moment she was within arms reach, he grabbed her and pulled her against him, hand finding her hair again and pulling carefully, gently; getting her head where he wanted it.

The anticipation was so thick, he could taste it. It laid on his taste buds like some of the more potent spices he’d tasted on his journeys, rounded off with the sweet taste of her hopefulness. “Do it again. Let me erase that foul memory, replace it with a new one.”

His face was so close, so. close. “Let me right my wrongs.”

The princess cursed under her breath. So fucking smooth, so obviously adept at sweet-talking the ladies, she couldn’t believe she had fallen for him.

But then she was reminded of his behaviour around her, his kindness, his love for a child that wasn’t even his own. How he loved Jaskier as well, even if he refused to admit it, and she realized she never even had a chance. He was everything she would ever want in a man. He would be the only one she’d ever accept at her side, if she ever got rid of this curse.

She held up the handkerchief, and Geralt didn't waste even a fraction of a second. He seized her around the waist, held her head in place and pressed his lips to hers, the thin fabric the only barrier between life and sure death.

He straightened, lifted his princess off her feet, her front flat against his. She gasped against his lips, and not only because of the sudden change in position, but also because she could feel exactly how much she affected him. It was impossible to miss. It was...sizeable. The Effect.

Hot want flooded her, a sudden wave of sheer, carnal lust. Nothing was more desirable than to have him naked in her bed, have her way with him, make him show her how to handle him, to make him feel good and loved and cherished. The assault of emotions left her breathless.

Geralt grunted against her lips, as the spike in her scent hit him. His body reacted instantly, and his hips bucked against her, just one sharp thrust before he got himself under control. Fuck, was she trying to kill him?

“You know-“ another peck to his lips, kerchief safe between them. “- there’s a silk sheet on my bed.”

Her purposefully innocent tone did nothing to soften this blow.

“Princess-“

His brain was more than eager to deliver visions of what could be, and he grew ever harder, painfully so. He needed to get either out of this situation, or out of these breeches. He’d prefer the later, but there was also a not inconsiderable risk. “Your mother will kill me.”

She loved how pained his voice was, how obvious the struggle with himself was, with his righteousness and the need to protect her. But she wanted this, and if he was willing, nothing would be able to make her regret this. She was done trying to deny herself. And so was Geralt.

“I’d like to see her try.”

She bit her lip, lowered the handkerchief. “If you’re willing to risk it, I won’t regret anything. Not when it involves you.”

Fucking- yes. Fuck yes. He’d make her happy, and if it meant to break his own heart, so be it. Witchers didn’t feel anyway, right?

He shifted, bit at her lip, before rearranging his hands on her, made her wrap her legs around his waist, and walked them over to her bed.

“I am able to walk, you know?”, she chuckled, but didn’t make any attempts to escape his hold.

“Don’t deny me this, princess.” He hitched her a bit higher, pressed a kiss to her covered shoulder. “I have to watch you all day, every day, unable to touch or even talk to you like I want to. Please, don’t deny me this.”

Her heart squeezed, and so did her legs around his waist. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The air left him in a heavy sigh when he sat her down on her mattress. “Undress.”

Her room wasn’t particularly cold, but she was so hot, the air felt cooler than it was. Her nipples pebbled, sensitive to the contrast and the thin nightdress she wore hid nothing at all. His eyes fell to her chest, heaving as she swallowed down any doubts – was he expecting her to be experienced? Did he think she was even worth it? Would he drop her afterwards? –, and he licked his lips. She looked like a present, a sweet surprise wrapped into a fabric so soft and light, it covered her every curve like water, silky and shimmering and hiding nothing.

“You will have to reserve your first night after the curse is lifted for yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

His knees knocked against hers as he bent down, his hands to either side of her and his face close enough to make her fear accidental touch. “Because I will spend all night doing what I can’t right now. I will make you come on my tongue until you have screamed yourself sore, my princess.”

There had to be a wet spot now, good fuck.

Her lungs refused to work, her breathing grew laboured and irregular.

He straightened and started unbuttoning his doublet. When she didn’t move, he nodded at her, his chin stuck out. “I said undress, princess.”

She took a deep breath, the air filling her lungs, providing enough oxygen to clear her head just a bit. “But, Geralt. You wear more layers than me. Don’t you think that’s unfair? Not to mention, what little I am wearing isn’t even closed properly.”

His hands stilled halfway down the line of buttons, his eyes tightened to slits, his nostrils flared and his chest expanded as he took a deep breath. When he let out the previously taken breath, he opened his mouth and licked his lips; then he smiled. “You think? Well, I’ll go first then.”

Doublet about halfway open, his linen underneath not hiding all that much either, he looked like any other noble out there, but with a much better personality. He let his hands fall to his sides, his fingertips skimmed along the waistband of his pants. “I can smell you, princess. I know that you’re practically leaking.”

His hand cupped his groin, a breathy groan and a chuckle fell from his lips. “I know how desperate you are for my touch. How wet you are.”

A forceful stroke up and down, then he went back to the buttons of his doublet. His voice had dropped a couple octaves; it was so heavy in bass, she could feel it vibrate through her chest and down to the apex of her thighs. “And it’s all for me. All mine."

His pupils were blown, the gold of his irises almost gone. He looked like he was about to pounce at her and oh, did she want him to.

The look on his face was a mix of want and awe, desire and adoration; the amount of trust he showed her was breathtaking. It was exhilarating, freeing, terrific. She could be herself with him, and he still wanted her. Wanted her even with her overbearing parents breathing down his back, with her lethal touch, her duties and responsibilities. He still wanted her, still was naked with her. Which- why?

What was in it for him? Why didn’t he just go and fuck someone else in her stead, to get it out of his system, like he had done before?

“Princess.” He had come over, his knees between her legs. He towered over her, bent down to cup her face and get her attention. “Don’t leave me.”

She watched his face, looked for hints of malice or dishonesty, but- all she found was… she couldn’t articulate it. But it made her chest burn, her heart throb and her hips shift, seeking friction, a smidge of relief.

It was all too slow. It took too long. She got up, pulled her legs up onto the bed and knelt, and slapped his hands away. It would be faster if she undid the buttons herself, she was sure. But Geralt didn’t let her. He caught her wrists, quiet chuckle on his lips. “You need gloves.”

Right.

“Your thinnest pair, where is it?”

She nodded towards the small table by the fireplace. Her thinnest pair was next to her stitching work. She used them when Ciri was visiting and wanted her help with her drawings, or when the needle started to hurt her fingers; there was little loss of feeling. She watched him walk over, became aware just how big he was, how out of place he should be - but he wasn’t. He looked right here, in her room, with his clothes in disarray and his hair falling down to his shoulders, with the way he strode through her room, so at ease and comfortable. She swallowed, pushed down the nasty doubts. They had no place here. This was for her and for him, and no one or nothing else.

When he came back, his whole figure radiated confidence, strength, hunger. “Put these on. And then I want you out of that dress.”

He tugged at the thin fabric, eyes hungry on her. “I want to see all of you.”

His voice. Never had she heard any man sound that wrecked talking to her, not for the same reasons anyway. He had her weak in the knees, but she obeyed, eager to please him, and get pleasured herself.

She reached up to open the one button that held her dress together, when her eyes fell on Geralt. He was delicious. The doublet was gone, the shirt’s laces were undone and presented his chest like an artist’s best work. She wanted her hands and lips all over him, she couldn’t wait for this curse to be gone.

He got rid of the rest of his layers, peeled his breeches down those powerful, toned legs. With every inch of skin freed, her mouth grew drier, until she felt short of dehydrated. He was a whole lot of man. Her ogling didn’t seem to bother him one bit.

“You are ridiculous.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve never seen anyone like you, you are a mountain of a man. And I can’t wait to be buried under you.”

He choked at her sudden boldness. She watched his abs contract, his shoulders shake. She grew a bit lightheaded at the thought of being with him. He recovered rather quickly though and decided enough was enough.

“Your turn.”

“But I want to look a bit longer.”

Geralt was watching her like a hawk, eyes boring into her, stripping her of every layer of pretence she’d ever pulled on. He stripped her bare, with just a look. She froze, like a rabbit in front of a snake, her body shaking in anticipation. It only got worse when he closed the distance between them.

“I am stripped bare, and you’re still in your nightgown. Who’s unfair now?”

Geralt growled, and bit her shoulder, only to pull away with her dress caught in his teeth. He tugged, and when it didn’t give anymore, he released it, took a couple steps back and crossed his impressive arms in front of his wide chest.

“Now, princess.”

She reached up to undo the one button at her nape, the one that had kept it from slipping off her shoulders. The fabric pooled around her on the bed, still covering her lap, keeping her from his sight. He raised a single eyebrow, and she quickly bunched the fabric in her hands to pull it over her head.

She hadn’t even let go of it, but his hands were already on her; covering her ribcage, thumbs stroking the underside of her breasts, fingers pressing into her skin.

“So soft. I bet you bruise quickly.”

Oh fuck.

He hummed in the back of his throat and stroked down her sides, hands curled around her hips now. “So perfect for me, look at you.”

She could feel his eyes on her, tracing every inch of skin, every hair standing on edge.

“Lie back.”

She turned, crawled further down the bed to drop onto the sheets, but Geralt behind her was groaning, loudly, and suddenly his hands were on her ass. “Ah, fuck.”

He gave her a good squeeze, watched her cunt flutter and weight press back into his hands. “Mhhm.”

One finger went rogue and dipped between her glistening lips, up and down and up again, and then trailing a circle around her clit. “Is that for me? Are you that wet for me?”

She’d dropped to her elbows, back arched and her forehead buried in the crook of her elbow. She nodded anyway, she knew he’d see.

“Fuck, I want to taste you so bad, princess.”

She was blushing, her cunt clenching at his words, and Geralt had to use all of his strength to not just pounce and take her. “No need to be shy. I’m here for you, and only you.”

His finger came back around, circled around her entrance. “They’d have to kill me, if they ever want me to leave you.”

At that she looked up. “Oh, my mother- fuck, Geralt. She’ll try, you know-” his finger pushed at her entrance, just the slightest bit and she broke off into a low moan, sentence completely forgotten.

“Mhm. Let her.”

His finger left her, and he gently pushed at her hip. “On your back.” She flopped down and over, none of her usual grace evident. She was a mess, and they hadn’t even started. Geralt threw the sheet over her, watched it slowly settle onto her, hiding her body, but also accentuating it. It was similar to her nightgown, but so much better. She drove him wild, absolutely animalistic. He crawled over her, lowered himself between her legs, hip to hip, core against wanting core. She let out a deep, satisfied sigh and pressed up, up, up against him. He loved her responsiveness, loved that she showed what she wanted, no fear, no distrust. He bowed his head, watched where he rubbed against her, only kept from skin by the thin piece of fabric. He was mesmerized by the sight, his dick against the bright silk, her dampness soaking through, giving him a sample of what’s to come, of what he was missing. Her gloved hands reached out to him, cupped his face, thumbs stroked over his cheekbones, a sweet smile on her face. Geralt watched her, catalogued every reaction, every little change on her beautiful face, how she pressed against him, how her hips moved with his, how her hands fluttered as she let them slide down his neck to his shoulders. She was a shining beacon of hope and love and everything he never thought he could have, and it hurt to look at her, but he had to; to remember her, to recall her face when he was alone and cold, without her touch, without her soft words in his ears, without her pulse drumming with abandon. How did he deserve this? He never left more than blood and gore in his wake, never gave more than he had to, never did anything just because. She was so good, so much better than him, so pure. She deserved someone who could love her with all his heart, and give her all she wanted and and could ever wish for. He wasn’t able to do that, he knew it, he- “Hey,” her fingers found his face once again. Her voice was soft, breathy, angelic. “Don’t leave me here like this, Geralt.” His heart clenched in his chest. Of course she knew. He smiled softly, couldn’t believe she let him close enough to even touch her, but this. “Forgive me.” He moved again, let his cock slide along her core, tease her through the sheet. She keened, raised her arms above her head and held onto the pillow, in an effort to reduce the risk of accidental touching. The change in position stretched her body, raised her breasts against the silk, pulling in his attention. “Oh, princess.” It wasn’t more than a low growl, a very soft one, but by the heavens. It made her wetter, her juices gushing out of her like she’d never experienced before. The growl grew louder, deeper, rumbled through his chest. His head lowered, his hands slid along her ribcage, around, under her to meet at her back and raise her torso towards his mouth. The sheet was now pulled taut around her, her nipples presented like fruits on a silver platter, ripe and hard, calling to him like wrapped candy. She sighed his name, when his lips found her right breast, closed around her nipple, rolled it between his teeth, carefully, teasingly. “Ah, shit-” then a soft moan when he flatted his tongue against the bud, gave a broad lick before giving her left breast the same attentions. She was going to ascend to heaven, how could she not with how heavenly this felt? His hips against hers, his cock hot and heavy at the apex of her thighs, the soaked silk a rather nice touch to it, providing another layer of friction; she needed more. Her toes prickled, her stomach tightened, and she bucked up against Geralt, who let out a breathless laugh, surprised by her sudden, well, rebellion. “Shh, princess.” He sat back up, reached for her as he went away. “Come here.” He laid back against her bed’s headboard, in all his naked glory, strong and taunt muscle, sparse hair and those seductive golden eyes locked onto her. It was as if they were connected by a string of yarn, where he went, she followed. He bunched the sheet in his hand, pulled. She watched his bicep bunch, his strong fingers bury into the fabric and she wished to be the one touched like that, with his fingers buried in her, stroking her to completion. But Geralt had other plans. He spread it over his lap, made sure they were safe. “I want you on top.” “What?” She sat there, legs crossed and her hands on her thighs. He’d interrupted her in the process of closing in on him, but his words froze her right where she was. His cock twitched, tented the silk. She looked amazing like that. Disheveled, needy, flushed, her hair a birds nest, falling around her in a fuzzy halo; he never wanted to look away. He wanted this sight to be burned into his retina forever, to never see anything else the moment he closed his eyes, to dream of nothing else than her body and her smile and her laugh and her eyes. He patted his thigh, smirked when she scrambled to close the distance between them, almost falling on her face. “You stole my grace, Geralt.”, she pouted, when she settled upon him, astride his lap. “You stole it all.” He groaned at her weight on his cock, her center pressed right onto it, wonderful friction, wonderful dampness. His hands came up to grip her thighs, smooth up and down her legs, and then curl around her hips. “Ah, fuck.” His mouth fell open, his tongue peeked out when he wetted his lips. He looked amazing like this, she thought. She could worship this man all day long and never get tired of him. “My heart, my grace, my mind. You name it, you have it.” She cupped his jaw with her hand, barely able to span the width. “You, kind sir, are a thief.” He marveled at her words, couldn’t believe them to be true. But here she was. In his lap, naked as the day she was born, giving herself to him and expecting nothing of him. No coin, no stories, not a piece of his fame. “I’ll have and keep whatever you’re willing to give me, princess.” She never failed to be mesmerized by the way he said her title, more like a pet name than a royal title. He said it as if he loved her, tender and fond, and oh- his voice deep and growling; never had anyone talked to her in that way. She trailed a path down his neck, to his chest, ran her fingers through the sparse hair on it, and, in a bout of boldness, flicked one of his nipples, then soothing it with a touch of her thumb. “Ah-” He caught her hand, pulled it up to his face and pressed his lips to her fingers. “Cheeky.” His eyes glinted with humor and mischief. She wondered if this was what he’d be like if his life had taken another path, one where he wasn’t subjected to murder and hate and doubt. She decided to bring this side out of him as often as she could. Maybe, if others saw him like this - softer, open, loving - they’d be less afraid and less disgusted. His hand came around to her behind, squeezed one cheek and gave it a good smack. “Are you dreaming?”, he asked, silent laughter in the lines of his face, in the way he tippy-tapped his fingertips over her skin. She faked offence and bit her lip, aware of his eyes on them. “Indeed I am. I’m dreaming of the end of my curse. I’m dreaming of the days, where this stupid sheet isn’t needed.” “Fuck, princess.” She moved, her hips rolled, slid along his length, drawing groans and curses out of him with every thrust. His fingers surely left bruises on her hips, with how tight he squeezed her when she hit a particularly delicious spot. Their moans and groans mingled, their scents and the smell of sex heavy in the air; anyone who had just half the sense of smell Geralt had, would know of their joining just by walking by. The thought delighted Geralt in a way he wasn’t ready to explore just yet. They didn’t hold on for long after that. She chanted his name when he seized control and held her down to rut against her harsher and faster than humanly possible, and she loved it. Her body locked, her head thrown back and her scream stuck in her throat; she came hard, with her knees locked at his sides, her hips undulating. The spike of her scent and her leaking all over him and onto the sheet had him there soon enough. His nostrils flared as he breathed in their combined spent and he had to buck up once more with his head thudding against the headboard and a deep, animalistic growl echoing through the room. They sat like that for a couple of moments, her perched on his lap, hair falling down onto his thighs. His eyes were falling closed, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this relaxed. Probably never. Her weight shifting brought him back, his eyes flew open, his hands reached for her. “Calm, Geralt. I’m just laying down.” Oh. She straightened the sheet, pulled it further up his chest and ignored the mess they made in favour of laying her head onto his chest. “I’ll need to take a bath.” “Mhhm.” “You wanna watch?” He huffed a laugh, let his fingers tangle with her hair, play with it. “Is that really a question?” “I guess not.”

#Beautiul & damned #b&d #the witcher #netflix: the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x oc #smut #there's some fluff in there i guess #scent kink?#witchers canonically weirdly intense senses #that gif makes me wanna take a bath

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oss-crime · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4-Project “Ma” –Seth–; Scene 4

Original Sin Story: Crime, pages 167-175

Let’s take a little walk down memory lane.

I first met Adam when he had only just been born.

As Miroku’s steward, I had been given the order to take the twins Queen Alice had birthed and discard them in the river.

They were both quite adorable babies.

Though, well, I didn’t get attached to them over that or anything.

But I did wind up having a fairly interesting idea.

I had wanted “friends”.

I had been carrying out several efforts for that purpose.

And my endeavoring to save those twins was also part of that.

I met Ceci Vaju through Miroku, and under his patronage I became head of the Royal Research Institute.

At the same time, I also began to meet with other people I viewed as appropriate “friends” and built up a network.

Venom was an extremely useful drug, and so now and then I would also use it when increasing my number of “friends”.

Only, it’s not like Venom was a cure-all for my problems. It also had several downsides, so I had to hold back from using it too much.

When things had calmed down to a decent degree, I decided to go check on how those twins were doing.

But…around then I ended up having a bit of a problem.

That is, I was in “poor physical health”.

Which meant that I couldn’t just go around places willy nilly.

So I decided to entrust one of the twins to a “friend” of mine. Raiou was a considerably skilled man, and so, though he had founded the organization “Apocalypse”, I gave him the order to leave it and go collect one of the twins.

I went to the beach and found the other one—Adam—and took him up myself.

…Ah yes, and there I wound up reuniting with an old colleague. Well, that didn’t matter to me so much. She’d always been a rather stupid woman.

All that aside, it was my first time ever raising a child, so it was fairly novel for me.

I did my best to raise him to grow into someone with my favored “emptiness”.

It was a busy time. My “friend” network was expanding, and I was kept occupied with my work at the institute as well. I also couldn’t forget to go to the castle and dose Miroku with the drug, too.

And then there was something else I had to do—to solve the source of this “poor physical health” problem.

For that, I needed to conduct research somewhere where I wouldn’t be seen by the public.

The facility called “Lunaca Labora”…That was where I had been born “as a human”.

My body at the time was an inferior product, and aged at a rate much faster than that of a normal human.

I needed to create a new body that would be sturdier, and last longer; prodigy that I was, I overcame this difficulty quite readily.

I was quite keen on my completed work, and so while I was at it I decided to create two more “ghoul children”—that is, clones.

It was also part of a new test to give me more “friends”. If I were to implant a fake personality based off of my own mind in the clones that I created, they would make ideal “friends”!

Or that’s what I thought…Well, even prodigies have failures sometimes.

One of them went flawlessly.

But the other one was a miserable dud.

Still, I could probably still use it as an emergency spare…Thus, I wound up keeping the failure in cold storage for the time being.

I named the “ghoul child” that had been successful “Pale Noel”. And then I entrusted him with the “Apocalypse” that Raiou had fled.

Pale is still doing excellent work even now. He is my clone after all, so I suppose you could say it’s only natural.

…Only, he was doing a little too well, and as such it started to cause problems for my public position.

After all is said and done, Pale, a man who has the same face as me, was causing havoc as the leader of an anti-government organization, so obviously this was putting me under suspicion as well.

It’s not like Miroku could deal with all of it. I had to take care of it somehow before it got too troublesome.

First I ordered Pale to avoid showing himself in public any further, and to just work behind the scenes. Then I had all of the documents on Pale erased from the information bureau, and after that went to “Apocalypse”’s founder, Raiou, and erased his memories pertaining to my physical appearance.

Even then, doubts about the “head of the Royal Research Institute, Horus Solntse” hadn’t completely gone away.

I figured that this inferior body had begun showing its age about then anyway.

I decided to have the man named Horus retire from this world.

I went to “Lunaca Labora” and swapped my consciousness into the new body I had completed.

…Truthfully I did wonder if I should make some adjustments to my flawless features…

But! It would be an unthinkable sin to alter this handsome face!

--And thus changing my mind, I left it the way it was.

Well, I decided that if I ever got pressed on my similarity to Pale I could just tell them we were “twin brothers” or something like that to smooth it over.

It was actually true, in a sense.

The new body was more comfortable than I had thought it would be.

I felt so good that I decided to stop using false names, and went by my true name of “Seth”.

I ended up staying in “Lunaca Labora” until all the excitement surrounding Pale could die down, working hard on making new “ghoul children”.

Though I couldn’t afford to cause another problem like the one I’d had with Pale by making clones that were exactly like me.

So I went on a bit of a venture with my third “ghoul child”.

I would make even the gender different, not just the face…A completely brand new “ghoul child”, that was a clone but also wasn’t!

And this, surely, would be a great enterprise on par with the “god creator of mankind’s bodies, Behemo” himself!

My “old friend”’s face came to mind.

Ha ha…That one would surely be stomping his feet in a rage if he knew about this!

…I’ll say it again.

Even prodigies have failures sometimes!

No! Rather, to be a prodigy is to be made up out of one’s failures!

It probably was a bit of overkill to implant in an “inheritor” power on top of changing the gender.

The moment I put in the pseudo-personality the girl took on a rebellious attitude, and as soon as my back was turned she escaped from “Lunaca Labora”.

I was unable to grasp her whereabouts for a while—but eventually I received word from Pale that he’d found her and was taking care of her.

It seemed that she showed quite the obedient side towards him.

…Why!? Pale is a clone of me!

--Well, whatever the situation, I decided to entrust her care to Pale.

I grew tired of making “ghoul children”, so I decided to go play with Adam again.

He’d seemed very rattled when we reunited at that bar, but the sight had also been quite pleasant.

Yes, at present, Adam was the one I could enjoy myself with the most—that was what I had thought.

I would let slip certain details to get Adam to hate me.

He soundly got on board with the idea, and so started plotting to have me killed.

Gosh, that had been fun…

Though, as you might expect I was a bit upset that my third “ghoul child” had genuinely tried to kill not just the other researchers but also me, in direct opposition to what we had arranged previously.

--Adam.

One of the “Twins of God” that had been abandoned right after he was born.

He had been most enticing as raw material.

I wondered how I might change him into one of my “friends”—that is, “evil”.

It was elegant sport.

He’d been superb at being “evil”.

And yet…or rather, because of that, perhaps.

Adam withdrew from the stage, and left.

For, to cast aside the role you are given, and run away—

That, too, is a type of sinful “evil”.

--And then there’s Eve.

Let me say it quite plainly here…the death of “Cain” and “Abel” was absolutely not my fault.

I wouldn’t have minded at all if those twins had been born properly.

For I had the suspicion that a new, altogether different story would have started there.

Simply put…their blood had been too dense.

The survival rate of children born between blood siblings isn’t all that high to begin with.

And another thing.

There is something Adam was mistaken about regarding Eve.

And something Eve was hiding from Adam.

The explanation I gave to Adam on Venom.

I did tell a few lies in that.

My extracting the genes from an “Inheritor of Levia”—

It wasn’t from a corpse.

It was from a newborn baby.

At present, there is one “Inheritor of Levia” in this world.

And her name—is Eve Zvezda.

Adam’s twin sister.

Venom has some drawbacks.

The drug was created based on the genes taken from an “Inheritor of Levia”.

So, while it might sound obvious—

On one who has the antibodies to it—that is, an “Inheritor of Levia”, it has no effect.

Venom doesn’t work on Eve.

Naturally…I have no obligation to tell any of that to Adam.

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tros-for-dinner · 4 years

Text

Like, okay, I need to talk about trauma a second

I’m reading The Body Keeps the Score right now - it’s a pretty comprehensive book about PTSD and trauma, and treatment of trauma-related mental illnesses and, like, I just keep thinking about Kylo (Ben)

In one sentence: Kylo is a deeply traumatized man and I can’t stop thinking about it.

As a general rule I don’t care about the ancillary materials, but “absentee parents” and “being left with droid caretakers that tried to kill him” is trauma - he didn’t have someone to comfort him and his usual caretakers weren’t safe. He probably started acting out, as what happens to kids that go through that. He was also deeply empathetic (metaphorically represented by being strong in the Force) so every lie that was told to him, every time someone feared him because of his ancestors, every time someone tried to use him because of his family - those are all wounds, too. Then, maybe because he was acting out, maybe because he was a deeply religious kid, he goes to live the ascetic life with his beloved Uncle Luke.

And I know this is my own headcanon, but knowing what I now know about trauma: he was still suffering the emotional effects of trauma. The fear, the mistrust, the anxiety, the anger - his fellow Force-sensitive students (and Luke) could feel those emotions. In the Jedi tradition, you either shut that shit down or you’re assumed to be on the road to the Dark Side.

Here’s the problem: the fear, the anxiety, the anger triggered by the pain of trauma can’t just be meditated away. It’s fight/flight instinct; it’s literally the oldest, most sub-conscious part of the brain reacting to the memory of pain and trying to prevent future pain. You can’t control it. You can’t reason with it. You either heal it or it controls you.

Luke can feel that his methods aren’t working but he hasn’t been trained in psychology so he has no idea how to fix this problem. Luke is deeply afraid of the Dark Side, and he was taught that emotions - a deeply-rooted function of the brain - are inherently ‘evil’ and cause self-destruction for the Jedi. Luke has a “all or nothing” “either I do it all or I’m a failure” mindset so he starts feeling despair at the bitter taste of failure. One night, out of pure fear, he takes an uninhibited look into his nephew’s mind (notably, without his consent) and sees how bad things could be in the future. For an instant, he honestly considers killing Ben to prevent that future from happening.

Here’s a question: what would you do if you woke up to a trusted, beloved family member pointing a loaded, safety-off shotgun at you, and you could feel without a doubt that they were definitely ready to kill you?

You would feel abject terror. Wounds from trusted loved ones can be the most painful, and this was a wound that eclipsed every other in Ben’s life. He escapes, and then falls into the hands of Snoke.

(I hate how the ancillary materials totally erased Ben’s agency by making Snoke influence his mind even before he was born. Grooming from a young age? That would have been fine. But as it is, it’s a supernatural element that oversimplifies and makes unbelievable a story that could have been more powerful.)

In my mind, Snoke doesn’t even have to be Force-sensitive: his gift is that he can tell what people wants, and he controls those people by promising what they want (and getting his victims just close enough to what they want so they keep coming back for more).

So he sees Ben and sees the perfect mark: someone who believes they’re inherently a bad person (drowning in shame, an instinct that is extremely self-isolating), enraged with pain, who has been indoctrinated into black-and-white thinking by the culture/religion he grew up in.

Snoke promises Ben 1. respect (i.e. a form of connection in which you don’t have to be vulnerable) and 2. power (which appeals to Ben’s helplessness).

All of us wear different “hats” depending on the situation we’re in: at work, we wear Customer Service or Manager hats. At home, we wear Caregiver or Partner or Roommate hats. Walking out to our cars in the dark, or taking the bus in a bad neighborhood, we might swagger with a Don’t Fuck With Me attitude. We hide or reveal parts of our personality depending on the tools we need in the situation.

Ben creates a persona to hide his shame, protect himself from vulnerability, and deaden the part of his conscience that objects to being part of an organization that is hurting people like his family was hurt. This persona is named Kylo Ren, and it uses the mask and robes like a magic spell to summon the gravitas and influence of his ancestor. But most importantly, the mask and robes shield him from the outside world as protection, but also to hide his shame and any emotions that aren’t ‘acceptable’ (’acceptable’ being anger, mostly).

The thing about shame is that it separates us from the people around us, preventing us from making meaningful connections. This is devastating to the human mind, because humans survive in groups (and our brain evolved to seek groups out). Bringing shame out into the light in the presence of someone you trust is usually enough to exorcise it.

Kylo doesn’t have anyone he can trust, and he is drowning in shame. He is totally isolated and knows he’s nothing but a weapon in Snoke’s hand. Snoke cultivates his shame and isolation because it makes Kylo easy to control. But then, totally by happenstance, Kylo meets Rey.

I hear people talk about ‘the power of love’ and I used to think it was total bullshit. I realize now that’s because visual media usually simplifies ‘love’ into ‘physical attraction’. In reality, love contains a spectrum of elements that are essential to a healthy, functioning mind. Specifically: a place you feel safe (a place where you feel trust, where you feel genuine connection, where you feel wanted, where you feel heard and seen and understood). The entire spectrum of intimacy (emotional, physical, and sexual) spans this need for a place to feel safe and known.

So Kylo meets this girl and a couple of things happen. 1. he realizes he isn’t actually alone. There is someone in the whole of the galaxy who might be his equal. 2. Totally inadvertently, Rey exposes his deepest shame (that he can’t live up to the legacy, that he is hurting himself for nothing) and brings it out into the light.

And, like, all of that would be disrupting enough, but then something even more important happens. See, Snoke built the expectation in Kylo’s mind that if Kylo cut away everyone who loved him, Kylo would be stronger, would be more powerful. Kylo gets the opportunity to cut away his father in the most final way - to kill him - and he takes the opportunity.

As soon as he kills Han - the very second after he ignites his saber - he realizes that Snoke was lying. It didn’t make him more powerful, it just makes things worse.

So while he’s reeling from that realization, his mind instinctively reaches out for connection, for people who might understand. I once read a meta that the Force Skype scenes in TLJ are initiated when Rey feels lonely, which I totally 100% buy into, but I’d suggest the connection happens when both of them are feeling lonely or hurt.

As far as I’m concerned, they bridged their own minds - Snoke took credit because he knew that would be devastating to Ben. Ben and Rey experience emotional intimacy and through their connection, they both start to heal a little from their individual traumas.

I went on a bit of a tangent there but here’s what I’m trying to get to: trauma doesn’t just go away. You don’t just flip a switch, forget about the past, and move on with your life. If you don’t heal, then that trauma and the damage to your brain persists. It takes time and an enduring safe place to heal. So I’m sitting here, trying to imagine what that healing could look like in-universe. And I’m just thinking about the fact that Episode 9 could have been about healing. They gave Rey the gift of healing. The moviemakers had a love story all wrapped up in a bow that could have been a metaphor for the healing power of love. They had all these traumatized characters that could have experienced healing. We, the audience, could have experienced the healing power of catharsis.

And in conclusion, I’m just thinking about Adam Driver performing this incredibly relatable character and TLJ’s Reylo and Luke&Rey plotlines being what they are - and just feeling deep gratitude.

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 3 years

Text

Small Time Witch (28)

The TVA or Time Variance Authority is an organization who monitors time lines and the multi-verse. Since you created a minor disturbance, Mobius was sent to set the timeline back on track. Their methods were harsh yet effective ranging from working for them for several hundred years to erasing you completely using the Retroactive Cannon. Mobius was not here to bring you in. In fact, you have now screwed things up so badly that he was charging you to correct your mistakes.

“I would love a drink. Thank you Y/N. May I call you Y/N?”

“You can start by telling me who you are.”

“Of course.” He drained his glass and set it down. You poured him another. “Mobius M. Mobius. I’m here representing the TVA. We monitor the multi-verse. You have made a mess of things and we want you to fix it.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

He sighed heavily letting his head fall back onto the chair. “Yes, you do. Wife of Loki, witch from Earth here to save her husband from his certain doom. Am I leaving anything out?”

“Nope. Sounds about right. So are you here to arrest me?”

“Arrest you? Heavens no. We want to recruit you. Contract employee. 1099 you at the end of the month for tax purposes. Listen, we love that you’re going after Thanos. You’ll save so many lives except one. Tony Stark. He has to die.”

The floor fell out from under you. The whole purpose of this was to save your friends. You hadn’t even wanted the Avengers to be involved.

“I can’t do that.”

“Here’s the thing, you have to. He has already created civilization destroying weapons. He was supposed to be snapped. Thanos went rogue from the plan.”

“Wait! You sent Thanos?!”

“No. We merely offered him something to kill Stark. Instead, he thought it would be more poetic to let him suffer for five years. And to top it off, he had a child. She’ll continue with his work creating the worst weapon yet. If you take him out now, there will be no Ultron. Sakovia will be safe.”

“But no Vision.”

“Wanda is young. She’ll meet someone else. Good for her though, her brother will still be alive! Good news for everyone. If you succeed, as a thank you, we will restore your husband’s memory. If you refuse, I’ll erase you from existence.”

You couldn’t hurt your friends. You wanted to say no but Mobius M. Mobius was a smooth talker and knew just how to play to your weaknesses. “Tony Stark didn’t have a problem attempting to kill you when he thought you were a threat. Didn’t he poison you? Am I getting that right?”

Your face heated at the memory. You didn’t answer. You both knew he was right. But Tony was also given incomplete and downright false information. “How can I trust what you’re telling me?”

“Have I been wrong about anything else? You don’t have to trust me. In fact, you shouldn’t be so trusting. Thanos already knows what you’re doing. He has spies everywhere. Even on Vanaheim and Asgard. I wouldn’t trust the man who was under Thanos’ thumb just days ago. He’s already betrayed you once. The chamber maid?”

You were heated. Fact was he was right. Loki wasn’t healed from the affects of the stone yet he already knew your plan. Thanos could have still been listening.

“As a sign of good faith, Princess, I present to you the power stone. The Nova Corps is entrusting you with it. You will save Xandar from certain doom. Fun fact, you can expel any of the stones at any time. That should be helpful when you meet with the Ancient One. Be careful with this stone. It bites.”

You cast a protective bubble around you. When you crushed the stone in your palm the pieces crawled under your skin to your core. Once again the light spilled from you holding you in suspension for several minutes then dropping you. You let down the barrier to Mobius clapping. “Three down, three to go. Here’s your plane ticket to Russia. The Maximoff twins already had their brush with the mind stone. You won’t be robbing them of anything. Oh and remember to bring yourself a buddy on Vormir. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

He left a card in the credenza and vanished. You called down to the desk to have more scotch sent up and to extend your stay. You also called up to Heimdall to let him know you do not wish for the princes to disturb you for the next few days.

——————————————————————

Loki awoke the next morning excited to hear of your experience with the reality stone. When he arrived to breakfast you weren’t there. In fact, no one had seen you since you left the previous morning. He didn’t see Thor either. Maybe you had not yet returned.

When Thor came strolling in alone around dinner time Loki was concerned. “Brother, I trust everything went to plan on Midgard.”

“It did! I was able to spend the night with Jane. I should thank your wife for that. Will she be joining us for dinner?”

Now Loki was panicked. “She didn’t return with you?”

“No. She sent Jane and I off. I left her with Erik Selvig and Darcy. She healed him by the way.”

Loki looked away ashamed. His concern for you outweighed his embarrassment. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Perhaps she’s still angry over the chamber maid.”

Loki’s face blanched. How on earth did you know about that? “Nothing happened really. Just a flirtation. Who told her?”

“Brother the young lady answered your bedroom door when Y/N went to say goodbye. She is not an idiot. She was able to figure it out.”

Loki was mortified. Old habits truly died hard. You could not blame him. He had only known you to be his wife for a week. You couldn’t really expect him to give up everything. He felt like a fool. You were risking life and limb on his behalf, on behalf of his people and this is how he treats you. A cad and a scoundrel indeed.

He had to see you to apologize. He would throw himself at your feet and vow never again to stray. Beg for you to forgive him. Plead for mercy. And if none of that worked he would buy you something pretty. Though, if he knew anything at all, he would bring you snacks.

Thor called for Heimdall. Unless you cloaked yourself he would be able to find you.

“I know why you are here. The Princess has demanded that she not be disturbed, and I quote, ‘by those two fools’. You see you are the fools.”

Loki sighed in exasperation. “I believe I’ve cracked it. Thank you, Heimdall. Do you know where she is?”

“Yes, your grace.”

Loki closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “And where is she?”

“London. At a hotel where she wishes for quiet before she flies to Russia to retrieve another stone.”

“Brother, we should be with her. She already absorbed two stones....”

Heimdall cleared his throat, “Three. She took in the power stone last night.” He stopped speaking for a moment and Loki realized he was listening to you. “Please, Princess. I do not wish to repeat...yes, ma’am. The Princess says, again I quote, ‘I’m stronger than both of you. Leave me alone or it’s over for you bitches when I get back. Also leave Heimdall alone.’ Please forgive, your highnesses.” He twisted the sword and sent Thor and Loki back to Vanaheim.

Loki was furious. Fuck groveling. Loki wanted to march right into your hotel room and demand you apologize. How entirely rude of you to just pop off without a single care for him. And over what? A smack on the bottom of a nameless servant? How actually dare you treat him this way? You won’t see him? He is a prince and your husband. You don’t have the right to refuse his company.

Thor, on the other hand, was terrified. Leave it to Loki to pick a fight with the most powerful witch in the known universe. He thought it best not to antagonize the pissed off witch possessing the power of three infinity stones. He came up with a possible solution. He proposed Valkyrie accompany you to Russia just in case something happened. You were powerful enough to level Midgard. Best have someone who can keep you in check.

At first Valkyrie refused. It wasn’t her job to babysit the princess. When Thor promised she could use Midgardian weapons she was in. Heimdall refused to send her at first. Loki promised you probably wouldn’t kill him. Very reluctantly he complied. Little did Loki know, Hilde was just the girl to make you all better.

——————————————————————

Hilde knocked politely so she would not scare you. You were operating on a hair trigger as of late. She really didn’t want to die. To her surprise, when you saw her in the hall, you began to giggle uncontrollably. “They sent you to bring me back? Idiots.”

“Actually, they asked that I accompany you to Russia. Just in case.”

“Fun! First drinks though.”

After several shots of tequila and one failed margarita attempt, the two of you were pretty sloshed. It had been a really long time since she had this much fun. Equally as long since she allowed anyone to call her Hilde. Only her sisters called her that. You made her laugh with your drunken college stories. When you told her about your emo college boyfriend having a chronic twitch she damn near peed herself.

After polishing off some snacks from room service the two of you collapsed into bed together still giggling. You finally worked up the courage to tell her about your affair.

“You know, in the future, you and I are really close. Like super close.”

“How so?”

“Well I know you have that heart shaped birthmark on your left thigh and when I kiss it it makes you stupid. I also know you like being called daddy in bed.”

She belly laughed at the notion that you two were together. “Does Loki know?!”

“Nope.” You both lost it.

“Norns! Can I be the one who tells him?!”

“Future you asked that I take a picture of his face when he finds out. I’m glad you’ll get to see it in person.”

“Oh hi Prince Loki! In the future I bed your wife.” she mocked.

“Hilde. Would it be weird if I asked you to spoon me? It’s been a while since I shared a bed with someone who actually wants to be around me.” Without hesitation she pulled you close to her body and nuzzled your hair.

The next morning you left for Russia. Normally a whole team would be required to infiltrate a Hydra base. You didn’t really need the back up. Hilde watched your six while you dismantled their security system. You could feel the stone pulling you in its direction. No alarms sounded so you got to the stone and slipped it in your pocket. You heard shuffling from some corner of the room and pulled Hilde closer to you. Wanda’s magic illuminated the darkened room.

“Give back the stone and your friend lives.” Pietro had Hilde by the throat. She had her hand on the hilt of her sword but you singled her to wait.

“Wanda, I know you don’t know me but, in the future, we are great friends. Closer to sisters. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m going to free you. I know a place where you can go.”

“That’s funny. You must not really know my sister.”

“I can prove it, Wanda. Please?”

She was behind you now. When she placed her hands on the side of your temples she showed you your worst fears. All of your friends and family were dead at your feet. Your hands glowed with power. Your skin spattered with their blood. The stones had overpowered you. Where they ended and you began was unclear. You felt yourself sinking but not for long. You regained control and maneuvered to grab her.

You held her with little effort and showed her your friendship. She still didn’t trust you completely but she relaxed some and told Pietro to let Hilde go.

“How did you break free of my magic?”

“Because I’ve practiced with you. Studied your magic. We did it together. I can help you. Please.”

“You can take us out of here?”

“Yes. To a safe place in New York. We don’t have much time. I can take you there right now. No planes. I can open up a portal and we’re all there. What do you say?”

“Pietro? What do you think?”

“Anywhere is better than here.”

“Good. Take my hand.”

You jumped to Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. If there was ever a safe space, it was here. The Professor greeted you all.

“Hello, Y/N. But you are not our Y/N. This much I can tell.”

“Do I look old?”

He laughed, “Nonsense. You look powerful. Come in. All of you. We can have some tea and Wanda and Pietro can show me their talents.”

The twins felt immediately at ease there. Ororo showed them around and helped them get settled. You introduced Hilde to the faculty. She insisted on staying by your side when it was time to take in the next stone.

You went to the medical unit with Jean and the professor. They hooked you up to some electrodes and put you in a padded fire proof space. While you did your thing, they waited far behind a glass.

Just as before the pieces of the jewel cut through your body. Light spills from the open wounds and you fall to the floor writhing in pain. “Don’t let it control you, Y/N. You are stronger than the stone!” The Professor calls out to you. Finally you are calm. All of the monitors attached to you are flashing and ringing. Xavier and Jean come in to examine you. They are extremely concerned. You raise your hand to heal yourself but he stops you.

“Y/N, you understand that every time you take in a stone you are irradiating yourself with gamma rays? You are doing irreversible damage to yourself. There is a reason mortals cannot wield all six of the stones. You have taken in four. I’m not sure you can survive two more.”

“I can. I have to, Professor.”

“Or what, Y/N?” Jean asked.

“Or the time police guys are going to erase me and Tony Stark’s kid will make a weapon capable of destroying planets. Please. I have to finish my mission.”

The Professor and Jean order you to rest for a few days while they figure out how to treat you. You sent Hilde back to Vanaheim to let everyone know you were ok and being cared for. You stayed in the medical ward and the Professor put you into a medically induced coma. He monitored your brain activity to ensure you wouldn’t be a danger to anyone in your unconscious state.

You dreamt in vivid colors. What Wanda put in your head, you couldn’t shake. The stones were possessive of you. They fed off of you draining away all that you were. Eventually you would become the power. Everything seemed to be more alive. Even in suspended animation your muscles ached. They were growing and changing just as every other cell in your body mutated. On the outside you remain unchanged save for your hair color. You kept hearing Mobius’ voice reminding you that you could expel the stones at any time. The stones made you feel bound to them. You would be nothing without them. Wandering around your psyche you fought them for control.

When Hank brought you out of your coma you took a breath and your lungs burned. You coughed and sputtered grabbing at the air for anything to hold. To connect with something. Your vision was too blurry to see who was on the other side of the hand who held yours. Wanda’s soft voice filled your ears, “Open your eyes, Y/N. We’re here.” You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Hanks sharp toothed grin.

“There she is.” Hank said softly.

You pulled Wanda closer to you and embraced her. You were unsure if you could trust what you were seeing to be real. You fought a battle for control of your mind, your body, your energy, your perception. Four down and you didn’t know if you had the strength to take the last two.

Once everyone was satisfied with your recovery you asked for a meeting. You explained your journey and what Thanos planned to do. They would support you. For the next stone, you had to go back to Manhattan to meet with the Ancient One. You purposely saved the soul stone for last. You couldn’t comprehend whom you would even sacrifice. It had to be a sacrifice though. Someone you loved. Someone you cherished. You set it aside for now and headed to 177 A Bleeker.

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #marvel #marvel witches #mcu x reader #loki angst

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