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capsgrl · 3 years

Text

Personal Angel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 7,903

Summary: Bucky Barnes joins the Avengers and finds himself drawn to the teams healer, but she’s keeping a secret. Will she finally heal him of the pain he experienced at the hands of Hydra.

Warnings: angst, blood, mentions of injury (only light detail), a couple of bad language words, let me know if I should add more.

Authors note: Please find 7k+ words of Bucky needing a hug and being the soft soldier he is. Reader is a healer and younger sibling of the Maximoff twins. Set after the events of Civil War except everyone loves each other and lives in harmony, nobody goes on the run. *breaks indicate change of POV*

Also posted on ao3

Growing up in Sokovia in a time of war was no picnic, but no matter how hard things were at times your parents gave you and your older twin siblings, Wanda and Pietro, the happiest childhood they possibly could. Until they couldn’t. Until tragedy struck and they were taken away from their three young children by a man named Stark.

Being the youngest, you looked up to the twins to guide you. They were your only family now and you’d follow them anywhere. So you did, you followed straight to Hydra and experiments in a science lab. There was never any doubt in your mind, wherever your family were, that’s where you belonged.

You were given the power of healing. With the help of the mind stone you were able to heal wounds and take the pain away from the injured. The first time you demonstrated your new powers to your handlers, the whole lab rejoiced. With your help, they now had an infallible army. The whole thing didn’t sit right with you, but your siblings assured you that it was a means to an end. Stark needed to pay for what he had taken from you.

It took a lot of practice for you to hone your skills. At first you couldn’t control them, and any time you touched someone, even accidentally, you would heal. The trouble with this was in order to heal them you absorbed their pain. It was only for a brief moment, but it was concentrated like a short, sharp burst. It was intense and it drained you, but eventually you learned to control it, and only use it when you chose to.

When Wanda and Pietro took off to begin their revenge plan they took you with them, but kept you hidden, kept you safe. It was only when they realised the true nature of the man, no robot, they were working for and switched to the side of good that they brought you out of the shadows and finally introduced you to the avengers.

You went to Sokovia, helping to evacuate people and heal the injured. It was exhausting but these people were innocent and they deserved your help. You were so busy you didn’t have time for fear, but when Wanda stepped onto the bus, the look on her face scared you more than anything ever had. Something bad had happened it was clear as day. Your fears were confirmed when you looked behind her to Clint, a lifeless Pietro in his arms.

Your world had suddenly got a little smaller, three had become two and it hurt. But you knew that whatever you were feeling was nothing compared to the pain of your sister, losing her twin, a connection that you could never understand now severed, and you did the only thing you could do in that moment. You threw your arms around her and absorbed it all, the pain, the grief, everything. It was the last thing you remembered before collapsing to the floor.

The next time you opened your eyes you were staring at the ceiling of the Avengers compound. Your new home. Wanda had assured you that it was the best place for you both and you couldn’t deny you felt more peaceful here than anywhere you’d been since you lost your parents.

You begged your sister not to reveal how your powers worked. Steve Rogers was a good man and wouldn’t want you to put yourself out for the team, but you wanted to help. She reluctantly agreed, on the condition that you promised not to reveal that you could heal emotional pain too. It always worried her that people would come to depend on you for their emotional needs, and the kind of affect it could have on your mental state. You readily agreed, and became an official Avenger, their resident healer, but your big sister also insisted you join her training with Steve and Natasha so you could learn to defend yourself.

The team continued to grow, until one day Steve introduced you to his latest recruit and best friend, Bucky Barnes. On the outside the man looked just like he did in the old photos you’d seen, just with slightly longer hair and a few more creases around his eyes. It was looking into his eyes that really gave away the changes. You could see a lifetime of pain and suffering in them, so much so that you knew no matter how similar he looked on the outside, he couldn’t be that same man on the inside.

You couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him to carry that pain around with him, and that thought alone spurred you on to do something that you’d not done since the day you comforted your grieving sister in Sokovia. You reached out your hand to shake his, and took just a little bit of that pain away.

B—-B

When Steve had asked him to come and stay with the team at the Avengers compound, Bucky was reluctant. After everything that happened in Berlin and with Tony he felt guilty. The Stark man had assured Steve that he understood that what happened to his parents was an act of The Winter Soldier and not Bucky, but he wasn’t ready to forgive yet. He assured Steve that it was fine for the new team to take residence in the compound, and headed back to the home he shared with Pepper, vowing to return when the time was right.

Bucky was nervous when his pal had taken him to the common room to properly introduce him to the team members he’d fought beside and against at the airport, but they all seemed really understanding. Going round shaking hands with everyone, his eyes finally landed on you. Steve introduced you as Y/N, and as you took his hand and spoke a soft ‘nice to meet you’ he felt overcome with a warm, calm feeling. A feeling he’d not felt since he was a young man before the war. It was almost like peace. Being around you made him feel lighter.

He came to learn that you were a healer, coming down to the med bag whenever Dr Cho needed your help. He found he wasn’t surprised by that at all, there seemed to be an air of calm about you that was soothing, at least to him anyway, not that he would tell anyone that. He’d barely spoken to you since he’d arrived at the compound. That first time he met you, you excused yourself quickly after shaking his hand and scurried off to your room. He couldn’t really blame you, you were probably afraid of him and wouldn’t be the first person to feel that way. There was something about you that made Bucky want to get to know you, but he was still too fragile to try to forge new relationships, relying heavily on Steve when he needed company, but spending the majority of his time alone.

The first time Bucky saw you use your powers, he was mesmerised. Steve always insisted that the team headed straight to med bat after missions for a once over even if they felt fine, which is where he found himself after returning from a trickier than expected mission with Steve and Natasha. The sound of the door behind him opening caught his attention.

“Hey Doc, what have we got today?”, you asked as you entered the room.

“Well, Miss Romanoff here took a bullet to the arm, no major damage has been done, and the bullet has been removed, but we could use some healing here if you don’t mind,” the Doctor said barely looking up from her clipboard.

“Of course. Hold still Nat,” you warned as you gently laid your hands over the injury site causing the Black Widow to wince. When you moved your hand away a moment later, Natasha’s arm looked as good as new. It was like witnessing a miracle.

The man was shaken out of his thoughts by your voice. “Want me to fix up that shiner you got there?”, you asked, pointing to the eye that was currently swollen to the point that it wasn’t fully open.

“Uh, no it’s OK, thank you though,” he uttered quietly “the serum will have this healed up in no time.” It was the truth, the serum healed him quickly just as it did Steve, although the throbbing in his head almost made him reconsider. But someone like him didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of such magic, he felt that he deserved to feel ever ounce of pain, no matter how many times his best friend tried to assure him that he didn’t.

“Well you know where I am if you change your mind.” She offered, reaching out to gently touch his forearm, and once again he felt a feeling of tranquility wash over him. It was like the warmth was spreading from the point that their skin touched, all through his body. He couldn’t stop staring at her hand, that is until she pulled it away and all but sprinted out of the door.

B—-B

You jolted awake, taking a minute to examine your surroundings before realising you were definitely still in your bed, in your room at the compound. It was the middle of the night and the sound of someone screaming had woken you. You strained to listen, and you couldn’t be sure but the screams sounded awfully like they were coming from Bucky. It was probably a nightmare you reasoned, but you decided to go check anyway, just in case. You crept down the hallway towards the sound which was indeed coming from the room belonging to the man in question. Deciding you needed to see with your own eyes that it was just a dream and not something more sinister, you gently pushed the door open and peeked in.

The sight you were met with almost broke your heart. Bucky was thrashing around, tangled in the sheets, and even in the dark you could see the wrinkled set of his brow. The dim light creeping in from the hallway illuminated the sweat covering his face, neck and the part of his chest that was peeking out from the covers. It was amazing that he hadn’t woken himself up yet you mused, but another loud wail shook you out of your thoughts. Spurring into action before you could second guess yourself, you ran lightly to his side and reached out to brush the hair from his damp forehead, and resting your fingers there as gently as you could, you began to absorb the pain.

He visibly started to calm, the sounds stopping almost immediately and limbs slowly relaxing. You were starting to feel weak and knew that you needed to leave soon before you passed out on the floor next to his bed. You weren’t sure how you’d explain that away in the morning. When you felt like you couldn’t take anymore you pulled your hand back and stumbled back to your room, flopping onto your bed and crying yourself to sleep. The relaxed look on his face the next morning only cemented your plan in your mind. You would do everything you could to ease the nightmares for this tortured solider. A brief moment of pain was nothing compared to a whole night of reliving the worst moments of your life.

After the first few nights of creeping into the former assassins room you had managed to detect some sort of a pattern, and adjusted your sleep schedule accordingly. You didn’t dare tell Wanda what you were doing. You knew she didn’t approve of you using your power to emotionally heal people, further supported by the lecture you got when you’d tried to take her grief after Pietro died. The red head would be absolutely furious with you.

You were exhausted from the late night healing sessions and were worried people would start noticing the bags under your eyes. You’d not done this much emotional healing before but it was worth it to see how much more relaxed Bucky was looking, and you weren’t the only one to notice, judging by the conversation you were listening in on in the kitchen that morning.

“Hey bud, you’re looking really well rested lately, have the nightmares finally stopped?”, Steve asked as he grabbed a water from the fridge, cooling off from his morning work out.

“No, I don’t think they ever will to be honest. But they feel different now, duller if that makes sense? I dunno, I can’t explain it, but they don’t seem to wake me up anymore. I’ve not slept this well in decades.” He chuckled in response, following the man out of the kitchen.

You hid your smile behind your coffee cup before taking a sip and turning back to your breakfast but you could feel your sister's eyes on you, staring a hole into the side of your head.

“Can I help you?”, you asked with exaggerated sweetness like only an annoying little sister could. You didn’t dare look at her though.

“I know what you’re doing.” She stated matter of factly.

“Hey, we had a deal, no looking in my mind without my permission”, you hissed at her angrily.

“I didn’t. I’ve seen you go into his room at night. You’re either healing his pain or fucking him,” she said with a raised eyebrow before smirking and adding “although both can have the same relaxing affect”.

“I am not fucking him and please keep your voice down”, you whisper shouted. You thought you were being careful and suddenly panicked that someone else might have seen.

“Why Y/N? You don’t even really know him so why are you risking your own health to fix his?”, your sister asked gently. She didn’t seem angry, just confused.

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t bear the amount of pain I saw in his eyes the first time we met. Everything that happened to him, a lifetime of pain. I wanted to take it away, he doesn’t deserve it. And I know it’s exhausting and it’s not good for me blah blah blah but I can’t help it. I can’t stop myself.” You finished your rant by slumping back in your chair in defeat, your eyes staring at the ceiling.

Of all things you expected Wanda to say, or possibly even yell, the last thing you expected was a quiet “Does he know?”. You shook your head and she sat silent for a moment, contemplating before adding “maybe you should get to know him. You know, make friends. You might find you can help him without using your powers.”

B—-B

Bucky sat on the quinjet waiting to take off for the next mission and couldn’t help feeling nervous. He’d been sleeping so well at the compound lately, but this mission would mean staying away for a few days and he was worried about his nightmares coming back when he was possibly sharing a room with his team mates. The only thing giving him comfort this time was that Y/N was joining the team. Steve had asked you to accompany them as the mission was expected to last a few days, and Bucky couldn't stop himself from smiling when he heard the news. Despite the fact that he’d hardly got to know you yet, your presence relaxed him more than he could explain.

He must have been staring at you this whole time because the sounds of Steve clearing his throat broke him out of his reverie. Bucky turned to look at his friend and was met with a knowing look. “Go talk to her,” he encouraged. But he wasn’t feeling brave enough for that, and he didn’t even know what he’d say, so he just rolled his eyes and got to work sharpening his knives.

The mission had been a hard one, they were going to infiltrate three suspected Hydra bases and take them down, and it affected Bucky much more than he would care to admit. It didn’t help that he'd slept so poorly in the little basic rooms they’d stopped at in between. He thought logically that he’d sleep better sharing a room with his best friend, having the comfort of another person there, not being alone, but he didn’t. The nightmares plagued him again, worse than they’d been in a long time.

He was agitated, he just wanted to get back to the only place he seemed to be able to sleep, and maybe sleep for a week. He sat leaning forward, elbows leaning on his knees, leg bouncing up and down, and was surprised when you sat down next to him.

“Wanna talk about it?”, you whispered. His head whipped around to you so fast he's surprised his neck didn’t break. You must have noticed the stunned look on his face, because you quickly added “sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. I just uh, I figured that this particular mission might have been harder for you than usual. I’m sorry again.” You looked away then, and Bucky was worried you were going to leave. He liked it when you were nearby, so he blurted out the first thing that came into his head “It was”. You looked at him again, this time with sadder eyes. It felt like you were reading his mind, but he was sure you didn’t have that power. “I’m not ready to talk about it, I’m sorry, but thank you. For asking I mean. I appreciate it.”

“I understand. But if you do ever want to talk, about anything, I’m a great listener.” You reached out then, placing your hand in his bouncing knee to stop the movement and he felt it, that familiar warmth spreading from where you touched him, through his whole body, relaxing him. He couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his cheeks, it was like it was involuntary. He turned to look at you then, and you were smiling right back, a soft warm smile. You were so close that he could smell your shampoo and it was intoxicating. Your eyes fluttered slightly and he looked down at your lips. He didn’t even know you but he was suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss you.

Unfortunately, the moment was broken by a voice that never failed to irritate the super soldier. “Quit making eyes with Y/N man. We need you up front.”

“Coming Wilson,” he sighed as he turned and watched you all but run away. You slept the rest of the flight home.

Once the jet landed, Bucky went straight to his room to shower and nap. Feeling much more human now, he ventured to the kitchen for food where he once again saw Sam.

“So you and Y/N huh,” he smirked, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter next to where Bucky was working on a sandwich. “Sorry if I interrupted a moment there. She’s a sweet girl though, I think she’d be good for you.”

Despite his usual irritation with the man, Bucky found that he was actually a really good person to talk to, his experience with social work meaning he often had useful advice. “I like her,” he admitted. “I can’t explain it, I just feel better when she’s around, but I don’t know how to talk to her. One minute I think she wants to talk and then she runs away from me. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Well, you are an intense dude”, Sam laughed. “Seriously though, don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Just talk to her, keep it light, ‘hey how’s it going”, you know that sort of thing.”

Bucky was about to respond when he heard someone call his name. He turned to see Wanda in the doorway, and he could feel his cheeks heat up at being caught talking about her sister. “We need to talk” she stated, in a tone that caused Sam to grab his food and scarper with a quiet good luck on his way out.

“Wanda, I’m not sure how much you heard but…” Bucky started, but was quickly cut off by the red heads raised hand.

“There’s something you don’t know about Y/N. Healing physical injuries isn’t the only power she has, she can also take away emotional pain.”

Bucky was stunned and couldn’t seem to form a more comprehensive response than “wow, I didn’t know”.

“Nobody knows except me, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. When she takes the emotional pain away, she absorbs it, and I don’t want her to become an emotional crutch for anyone, I’m afraid that it will affect her mental state negatively. I know the team would never intentionally hurt her, but I can’t risk it. You understand right?”

“Of course, I won’t tell a soul. But why are you telling me this, aren’t you worried I’ll do just that?” Bucky questioned.

“You already are, you just don’t know it”, Wanda quipped. “She’s been healing you. At night when she hears you having nightmares she comes in and takes the pain away. All it takes is a touch, and I suspect she might be doing it at other times too, although I couldn’t be sure”.

Suddenly everything makes sense now. Why he always felt better in your presence. He thought you were just a tactile person but all those gentle touches that warmed his heart were times you were healing him. You were the reason he was sleeping so soundly at night.

“I swear I had no idea Wanda, you gotta believe me”, he pleaded.

“I do, I think. But I just wanted you to know, because everytime she takes your pain away, she feels it. Only for a moment, but the worse the pain for the person, the more intensely she feels it. It’s really draining her, and I don’t want to begrudge you the comfort but she’s my sister and I’m worried”.

Bucky felt absolutely awful. He’d never want to inflict his pain on anyone else, even for a moment, especially not someone as good as you. Someone who helped him so selflessly. It was his cross to bear, he made his bed and he intended to lie in it. Cold and alone. “I won’t let her do it anymore”, he swore to Wanda before leaving her alone in the kitchen with his sandwich. He’d suddenly lost his appetite.

B—-B

Things had been weird since your first mission, you could feel it. Bucky had been avoiding you like the plague, and you felt terrible. You’d wanted to get to know him, to try to be friends like Wanda suggested, but you’d gone about it the wrong way and clearly upset him. He’d even taken to locking his bedroom door at night preventing you from soothing his nightmares. You were sure he wasn’t sleeping again, but you’d not seen so much as a glimpse of him in weeks so couldn’t verify that.

Why would he lock his door at night? The bedrooms were in a secure floor so there was no danger of intruders and FRIDAY would alert you all anyway. Then it struck you. Did he know? Had he found out that you’d be coming in his room at night to heal him? There’s no way he could know surely, unless someone had told him. Just then Wanda came into the common room and plopped herself down on the couch next to you, and you remembered how protective your big sister could be.

“I’ve not seen Bucky around recently, have you spoken to him at all?”, you asked nonchalantly. “Nope,” was all the answer you got.

“You sure about that?”, you pressed, giving her your best sister stare down. The look on her face told you everything you needed to know. “Wanda! How could you? Jesus he must be so mad at me, no wonder he’s not speaking to me”, you shouted incredulously.

“I’m sorry, but I was worried about what you were doing to yourself. You're my baby sister and I love you. If you wouldn’t listen to me I thought you might listen to him.”

“We’ll he’s not even speaking to me now so that was a big fail sis, well done,” you seethed. At that moment Steve and Sam walked in.

“Oh I wondered why tin man’s been so mopey lately, lovers quarrel?” Sam questioned teasingly. Steve elbowed him in the side lightly and pointed down the corridor. “He’s in the gym,” the soldier added by way of explanation.

As soon as you reached the gym you could see how tired Bucky looked through the glass door. His eyes were dark and heavy, his eyebrows turned down and his hits weren’t landing on the punch bag with their usual impact.

You stepped in quietly, then thought better of sneaking up on a super soldier and cleared your throat. “Hi Bucky, can we talk a minute?”

The man looked up and then tiredly gestured to the bench at the side of the room where his bag was sat. He sat down and started unwrapping his flesh hand. He was obviously waiting for you to speak first so you took a deep breath to steady yourself and started.

“Firstly, I just wanted to apologise. I know that Wanda told you about me, uh, you know…” you trailed off. God this was embarrassing. “I’m so sorry. I realise that was a total violation of your privacy and also really creepy, but I promise you it was coming from a good place. I was trying to help not, you know, be a peeping Tom or anything.” You blushed at that, remembered the times you’d seen his beautiful chiselled pecs, and those gorgeous biceps and powerful thighs whenever they poked out of the covers. He didn’t need to know about those thoughts.

He chuckled at that and you felt yourself relax slightly. “Trust me, that is one of the least creepy things that’s happened to me in my 100 odd years, doll. Apology accepted”. You couldn’t help but chuckle back.

“Well thank you. I assume that's the reason you’ve been avoiding me?” You questioned nervously. When he shook his head your heart sank. Did you do something else? Then it hit you. “Of course me healing you without your consent is equally as weird, so again I apologise. I just wanted to help but I can see that I probably went about it all wrong.”

Bucky shook his head vehemently then. “God no, you think I’m mad at you? How could I be mad at you, you’ve got a heart of gold and you have helped me so much since Steve brought me here. Honestly, I don’t think I’d have felt so comfortable here if it hadn’t been for you. I could never understand why I always felt so at peace around a near stranger, but as soon as Wanda explained your powers to me it all made sense. But I would never want to hurt you Y/N, and the thought of you taking on just a fraction of this pain made me feel awful. You don’t deserve that and me avoiding you was just me trying to protect you.”

You were relieved at his confession. He wasn’t mad. You sighed and relaxed fully leaning back against the wall. “I promise you it’s not that bad. Most of the time. It only lasts for a moment, and sometimes if it’s only mild pain I barely even feel it. Like when I heeled Steve’s bruised ribs on that overnight because he couldn’t sleep. I hardly even flinched,” you said bumping your shoulder with his. “But if you don’t want me to do it anymore, I promise I won’t.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate what you’ve been doing for me. More than you could know. But I think it’s about time I tried to overcome these demons on my own.” You nodded at that. He had a point, you had become a crutch without him even knowing. You got up to leave when he grabbed your hand to stop you. “If I’m doing this, I think I’m gonna need a friend. What do ya say?” He asked, looking up at you with a hopeful grin.

“I’d love to be your friend”, you replied. If you couldn’t help him with your power, offering moral support would be the next best thing.

B—-B

The months after your talk in the gym had been the best in Bucky’s long life. You’d really started to relax around him, the conversations came easy, both when you were all with the team and if you were hanging out alone.

It was the times that you hung out alone he enjoyed the most. He could really be himself then, without worrying about knowing looks from Steve and Sam, or worrying whether Wanda was going to try and read his mind to find out his intentions with her sister. He wasn’t even sure he was ready to confront those feelings himself. He told himself that he just wanted to get to know you, but deep in his heart he knew that he was falling for you.

You laughed together, he told you stories about life in the 30s and 40s, his family, a young pre-serum Steve, and anything else you wanted to know. In turn you taught him all about modern technology, helped him pick out some more modern day clothes and even took him to get a haircut. He couldn’t help but notice the way you stared for a little too long when he came out with his hair cropped shorter, before nodding that you liked it.

The nightmares were back and almost as aggressive as before, but when he walked out into the kitchen one night to make himself a tea and found Y/N sat there waiting for him with one already made, he found himself opening up to you. He’d never tell you all the gory details that plagued his mind at night, but even revealing just a little bit of those late night visions and the feelings that followed, made him feel better. You never judged, just listened, and not even the thought that Sam was right about how he should talk about his feelings more could diminish that safe feeling he had with you.

You’d even started touching him again, completely innocent touches like leaning your head on his shoulder, linking your hand through his arm when you were walking around town, but still sending a warmth through his body like you were healing him. And maybe you were healing him, he thought, just without using your powers.

Steve and Sam had been bugging him for a while to ask you out properly, but for some reason today when they started their usual post run chorus of ‘when are you going to ask Y/N out’, he was feeling bold and said he’d do it today.

So that’s where he found himself an hour later, after showering, changing and pacing circles in his room to try and gain back some of the quickly waning courage. He knocked on your door and waited nervously. You answered and invited him in, and he mentally chastised himself for not bringing flowers. He was nervous, but decided to just suck it up and power through.

“Hey doll, uh I just wanted to ask, see I’ve enjoyed hanging out with you these last few months, more than I’ve enjoyed anything in a really long time.” He was messing this up he knew it, and you were just stood there staring at him and not speaking. The young Bucky from the 40s who was charming and good with the ladies mentally kicked him to get on with it. He could do this. So he continued. “So I just wanted to know if you wanted to go to dinner with some time.” He finally let out a breath and tried to relax whilst he waited for your response.

“Like a date?”, you asked and you looked shocked and he panicked, thinking he’d got all the signs wrong and wondering how he could back track when you smiled and said “I’d love to go out for dinner with you, definitely as a date. I honestly thought you’d never ask, like ever.”

Bucky finally relaxed at that. You said yes, you wanted to go out with him. He didn’t think he could be any happier right now. “Good. Great! I’m going on a mission with Steve and Sam tomorrow so how’s Friday night?”

“Perfect”, you smiled and he honestly didn’t think he’d ever get over seeing you smile at him like that. He was head over heels.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d agree, so I didn’t actually come up with a plan. I’ll text you OK?” He assured you as he backed out the door, wanting to keep looking at you as long as he could. When he got through the doorway he stopped, still smiling like an idiot. You walked up to the door, stood up on your tip toes and kissed him on the cheek. “I can’t wait Buck”, you whispered as you stepped back and shut the door.

B—-B

The short 2 day mission turned out to be the next big bad, and the three men had ended up having to radio in for back up. It was going to be all hands on deck, which meant that when the second quinjet arrived you were on it. Wanda had asked you to stay behind but you wanted to help, and especially wanted to be there in case a certain someone needed you.

You were out in the field helping get innocent bystanders to safety and healing up the Avengers so they could get back into the fight. You could feel it taking a toll on your body, your steps becoming more slow and sluggish as time went on. After getting a young family to safety you turned to head back to the next victim needing help when you saw what appeared to be an axe flung in your direction. You froze, your brain tired from all the healing you’d done and not thinking fast enough.

What you weren’t prepared for was the shove you felt at your side, sending you toppling to the ground. You scrambled up to see the sight of Bucky, laying on the ground at your feet, the weapon in question lodged firmly in his stomach.

“No no no, Bucky what did you do?!” You screamed as you dropped to your knees to assess the damage. Steve and Wanda were at your side in an instant, the rest of the team continuing the fight around you. You felt panicked, terrified of the sight in front of you as the blood flowed out of the wound and over your hands at a steady rate. You knew exactly what you needed to do, and you needed to do it now before it was too late and the blood loss became too much.

Taking in a big breath you steeled yourself and started giving out orders. “Steve, I need you to remove the axe, and Wanda, you need to put up a shield to protect us from further damage while I heal him. Ok, on three guys, one…” but before you could count any further the man in question croaked out your name. “Doll please, it’s OK, just let me go. I’m old, it’s my time.”

The fact that he would even suggest such a thing made you livid. “Bucky, how could you say that? You saved me, so now I’m going to save you and we don’t have time to argue this,” you shouted as your knees started to become damp with his blood.

“C’mon Buck, let her do it. She does it all the time, no big deal right,” Steve encouraged, clapping you in the shoulder whilst you nodded your head in agreement.

Wanda rested her hand gently on your shoulder then, an action that you were sure was meant to soothe, but only irritated you as you knew exactly what was coming. “You’ve never healed a wound this severe before, you don’t know what it will do to you.”

At Steve’s confused look your sister began a quick explanation on how your powers truly worked but you drowned the conversation out as Bucky weakly reached a hand up to your face. “Please Y/N,” he begged, “I don’t wanna hurt you, I love you. Just let me go.” But hearing those three words, from the man you loved, a man who was fading in front of you, just further cemented your decision in your mind. Looking at the Captain beside you, you whispered “Steve, please” and you knew you had him. He nodded grimly and on the count of three he lifted the axe, and you replaced it with your hands.

As you placed your hands over the oozing wound, you tried to concentrate everything you had into the prone man’s body, every ounce of love and every morsel of strength you had left in you. You sent a silent prayer up to heaven that you’d get to tell this man you loved him too and share your first kiss. You could feel your body weakening, and were vaguely aware that the steady flow over your hands seemed to be slowing, but you couldn’t hold it much longer, and you hoped it would be enough. Suddenly the overwhelming urge to sleep invaded your senses and you collapsed right there on top of Bucky’s chest.

You awoke to the sound of beeping. Your eyelids felt heavy and it took a few moments for you to blink them fully open, but when you finally did you were greeted by the sight of your older sister.

“Oh god, I’m so relieved you’re awake!” She cried brushing your hair off of your forehead in a motherly gesture.

“Bucky,” you managed to croak out through your dry mouth. Wanda handed you a sip of water before answering. “He’s fine. He’s currently receiving blood to replace what he lost but you did it, you healed him. Dr Cho called it a miracle.”

“Oh thank god,” you sighed “and the battle?”

“We won,” your sister informed you “and you young lady are going to be fine. The doc ran extensive tests and seems to think that you just kind of passed out from the pain, and then went into a deep sleep from the shock. But it could have been much worse, you need to be more careful.”

“In this line of work?” You joked, causing her to roll eyes. “When can I get out of here?”

At that moment, your Captain stepped into the room. “The doctor will be in to give you a once over in a moment, then you’re good to go,” he informed you. “I was just wondering if I could have a moment?” He asked tentatively. Your sister excused herself and left the two of you alone.

Steve sat down in the now empty chair. He looked tired, and you guessed he must have been sat by Bucky’s side for a good while. You were glad he had someone there.

“I wanted to thank you Y/N,” he started. “If you hadn’t been there, I would have lost my best friend all over again. The fact that it caused you so much hurt to heal him, well that is something I can never repay. I feel terrible for letting you do it, it was selfish of me.” He looked so guilty that it made you sad.

“I was going to do it anyway Steve, whether you agreed or not. There’s just no way I could have sat there and let him go.” You could feel the tears welling in your eyes at the thought of things ending before they’d even really started.

You knew Steve understood, after everything he’d been through to get his friend back he knew exactly how you felt. “Well I’m extremely grateful for that stubborn streak of yours, but now that Wanda’s filled me in on all the facts surrounding your gift we’re going to have to have a conversation about some new work protocols,” the man scolded, his captain's voice firmly back. Clearly reading the sense of dread in your face he added, “but now we have more pressing matters. There’s someone down the hall that’s desperate to see you.”

B—-B

Bucky was fed up. He hated hospitals, he’d spent far too many years of his life being poked and prodded and he was done with it. He’d laid in this bed for 2 days waiting for you to wake up and he couldn’t help but replay the last time he saw you in his mind.

He was laying on the ground, a pain searing through his stomach, when suddenly he felt a familiar warmth. A warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time, spreading from the wound throughout his whole body. This time though, the feeling was different, it was more somehow. He’d never really believed in god, or any kind of divine being, not after everything that happened to him in the past. But that feeling, he could only imagine it was how it would feel to be touched by an angel. Suddenly the pain was gone but he could still feel a heavy weight on his chest. He looked down to discover the weight he was feeling was you.

Bile had risen in this throat when he realised what had happened. Y/N had healed him, hurting yourself in the process. Wanda was shaking you, trying to wake you. Steve was checking your pulse, assuring the redhead that it was still very much there. He lifted you off Bucky’s chest, and carried you quickly to the quinjet. Wanda helped the injured soldier up and to the jet too, where he sat next to you holding your hand until Steve landed back at the compound, the medics ready to greet you all straight from the ramp.

Bucky hadn’t seen you since they’d whisked you away for testing. They’d taken him to a separate room where he was given blood to make up for what he’d lost on the battlefield. He kept asking if you were OK and if he could see you, but was told to stay put until they knew more.

As he laid there with his eyes closed his thoughts were interrupted by footsteps, followed by Steve’s voice. “You have a visitor,” he announced simply.

Bucky sighed, not feeling up for visitors at the moment. “If it’s bird brain again tell him I’m dead” he grouched. Not hearing the comeback he was expecting from his sharp tongued friend, he opened his eyes, and almost pinched himself to check if he was dreaming.

“You’re awake, oh god doll are you ok?” He asked, trying to get out of bed and go to you, forgetting about his IV and the other wires connected to him.

“Stay put,” you said rushing towards him, gently pushing him back into the bed. “I’m fine, just had a nice long sleep.”

“You scared the shit outta me. I told you to let me go. My life is not worth more than yours.” Suddenly aware that his fear could be mistaken for anger he softened his voice. “But thank you. I owe you everything.”

You just smiled back at him that beautiful smile he worried he’d never see again. “Actually, you just owe me a date.” You reached out your hand to hold his and he couldn’t resist placing a kiss in your knuckles. “As soon as I’m all fixed up and out of here, I’m all yours.” And he was. He knew now that he would only ever be yours for as long as you’d have him.

You stayed and chatted with him a while longer, never letting go of his hand, but after a while he could see your eyes falling. “Go home doll, you need your rest,” he tried to encourage.

“I am tired but I just don’t want to go,” you pouted.

“Well, you could hop up here and take a nap next to me. It’s a small bed though we might have to snuggle real close”, he suggested with his most charming smile.

“Sounds perfect,” you smiled sleepily. You took off your shoes and climbed up in the bed next to him. He lifted the blanket for you to slip under, and you immediately rested your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around to hold you close. He thought you’d fallen asleep, and he laid there watching your steady breaths until you spoke again. “When I was healing you, all I could think about was the fact that I’d never told you I loved you and I’d never kissed you, and I knew that if I never saw you again it would be my biggest regret. So I’m telling you now. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered before leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss that he’d been dying for since he met you. Your lips were so soft, and your body felt so warm and so right pressed against him. The kiss started out slow and loving, Bucky pouring all the love he felt into it, but when you slipped your hand up to gently tug on the hair at the nape of his neck and deepening the kiss, things got a bit more heated. The sound you made when your tongues finally met was almost enough to make him lose control and he slid his hand down from where it was stroking your lower back over your hip and down to your thigh. He was just about to pull your leg up and over his so he could show you just how much you were affecting him when you were interrupted by an alarm. You pulled back, panic on your face and he couldn’t help but laugh. “You just got my heart racing,” he teased, nodding at the heart rate monitor that was slowly calming back down.

You laughed then and gently shoved his shoulder. You were now both lying on your sides facing each other. “Well, that’s one item ticked off the bucket list,” you quipped, before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “To be continued,” you joked as you wiggled your eyebrows, “now let’s sleep.”

As you both snuggled back down in the tiny hospital bed, Bucky kissed the top of your hair and whispered quietly “goodnight angel.” He would never admit it to anyone but he’d missed the feeling of you healing him, the warm feeling that engulfed him when your power flowed through him was like nothing he’d ever felt before, he could understand why Wanda was concerned that people would come to rely on it too much.

But as you laid there asleep in his arms a different kind of warmth enveloped him, and as he slipped off into a restful sleep he realised that he didn’t need your powers to heal him, your love was enough, his personal angel.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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existslikepristin · 3 years

Text

A Two-on-One Match

Part 2 of 3 of the OC Jung Hyunjin's arc. A request from Rex [of the ever-changing name] I recommend starting with A Quick Fix to follow the plot if you haven't read it already.

Tags: TheLounge, Gfriend, Eunha, SinB, male OC Jung Hyunjin, "oh hey I know you", one dom one sub one clueless boxer, some butt stuff, request

~~~~~

The bell rang to announce Yuta’s departure. He turned back as he walked through the door and waved. “Thanks Hyunjin! Good to meet you!”

“You too man! Enjoy!” Hyunjin waved back. It was his second week working at The Lounge and he was getting to know quite the wide range of people, and the first day he was working the morning shift, now that he was fully finished with his evening training.

A familiar voice came from behind, just at the entrance to the kitchen. “Nice catch. How’d you know Yuta would like the cinnamon sprinkle?” It was Hyunjin’s new boss, Kim Soomin.

“Wish I could tell you Ms. Kim. Honestly I just guessed.”

Soomin shrugged. “We’ll chalk it up to intuition then. Anyway, it seems like you’ve got things handled up here. I’m going to start up the oven for some brownies. Sungho is going to be here in half an hour, but I’ll be right there if you get rushed, alright?”

“You got it, Ms. Kim.”

Hyunjin wasn’t especially worried, since he didn’t imagine they’d be getting that many more customers in so early in the morning. When Soomin was gone, he leaned back against the perfectly clean counter and pulled out his phone.

Sowon had told him she was an idol, but he still hadn’t bothered to look up her music. It seemed to him that while he was waiting for customers was as good a time as any. He opened up his default browser and tapped in her name. A second later, his phone was flooded with pictures of Sowon in a variety of outfits, generally much fancier than what he usually saw her in. In the sidebar, her real name appeared, as well as the company she worked for and the group she was part of. “Gfriend,” rung a bell in Hyunjin’s head, at least, though he had no clue if he’d actually heard any of their music before. Maybe at a convenient store while he wasn’t paying attention?

He tapped the link to change the search to Gfriend. The images that showed up were far more zoomed out than before. He could pick out Sowon’s face among the six women in each picture, but immediately scrolled down and saw their names. He nodded his head and kept going down the list. Jung Yerin was next. No clue who she was. Then Jung Eunbi, also known as Eunha. That name sounded somehow familiar to him, but he continued to read. Choi Yuna, also known as Yuju…

He was interrupted by the bell ringing. He bounced away from the counter and popped his phone back into his pocket. Looking up, he saw two women had entered. One of them took off to the side toward the lounge chairs right away, but the other one approached the counter. She walked normally at first, but slowed down when she and Hyunjin’s eyes met.

“H-hyunjin?” she asked.

Hyunjin hesitated to respond. He pulled his phone back out and looked at the images still on the screen. “Do you go by Eunha?”

Eunha nodded slowly. “Yeah… Were you in drama club in middle school?”

“I was.”

There was a long pause.

“Holy shit, Hyunjin! It’s been such a long time! When did you start working here?”

Hyunjin laughed. He knew the name was familiar. “Just a couple of weeks ago. I got referred by Sowon.”

Eunha laughed back. “She and I are in a girl group together!”

“I literally just found that out! I was looking you guys up! See?” Hyunjin held out his phone.

“Woah! Yeah! How are you doing these days?”

The two took some time to reminisce and catch up. Despite the initial moment of not recognizing each other, they quickly remembered their connection. They had grown up in the same neighborhood, and recalled a variety of events they had gone to together as children. Eunha was a year above him in school, but had encouraged him to participate in drama. The Lounge continued to stay effectively empty the whole time. Hyunjin told Eunha about how he and Sowon met and how he ended up there, and about how he was training again to fight. Eunha told him about the rest of Gfriend, and how the other woman she entered with was Umji.

To avoid making Umji wait too much longer, Hyunjin took Eunha’s order and got to work. He was all smiles. When he brought their coffee to them, he included a napkin with his phone number on it and invited Eunha to the fight, but couldn’t continue to chat with the other customers that began to pour in, the bell going wild.

* * *

The bell went wild. It was the end of the last round. Hyunjin wiped at his nose with his arm. His opponent backed off and the two bumped their gloves together. Hyunjin wasn’t especially happy with the turnout. It had been far too long since he’d stepped in a ring, and it showed. That wasn’t going to stop him from being a good sport though. He kept a smile on.

Fortunately, the referee still held his arm up in the end. “... by split decision: Jung Hyunjin!”

The crowd cheered. Whether it was for Hyunjin or not, he couldn’t really tell. The crowd wasn’t exactly huge, and the two fighters nobody had heard of (it was only his opponent’s second official match) in a small venue didn’t exactly have a fanbase yet. Hyunjin couldn’t pick any familiar faces out of the crowd either.

His disappointment was quickly abated by who he saw while making his way to the locker room. Dressed in frumpy, nondescript sweatshirts and hats, Eunha and another girl Hyunjin barely recognized from Gfriend’s group pictures as SinB caught him right at the doorway.

“Hey! We were hiding out in the back row. Congrats!”

Hyunjin ran his fingers through his hair. “Thanks. I was rusty though.”

“Rusty? What do you mean? You were great!”

SinB tapped Eunha on the arm. “No, he’s right. They both looked like amateurs.”

Hyunjin grimaced, but before he could say anything, Eunha grabbed him by the arm. “Hey, let’s go in there, where it’s not so noisy! I can barely hear you two!”

She wasn’t wrong. When the door closed behind them, the lack of noise was a relief.

“So yeah,” SinB started, “what I was saying is that he’s right. They loo--”

Eunha silenced her with a strict look. “SinB...” is all she said, and it was all she needed.

SinB averted her eyes and a blush crossed her cheeks. “It’s um… Nice to meet you, Hyunjin. My name’s SinB.”

Hyunjin smirked. “Hey, good meeting you too. Don’t worry about the fight though. I used to be a lot better. I’m just out of practice. I’ll be starting regular training again next week.”

“You really did do great though,” Eunha said, “I mean, you had to, right? You won.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m just being critical of myself. But anyway, thanks for coming! I really appreciate the support.”

“Of course! Just think of us as your first fans?” Eunha ended with a questioning tone, but followed up quickly. “Actually, let’s not be fans yet. It’s weird for fans to take you out to dinner.”

“Dinner, huh? I’d like that. I need to get washed up first. Pretty sure I’ve still got some blood in my mouth.”

“Totally, yeah! We’ll just, uh, wait here.”

Hyunjin gave a nod and went to the locker room. He could hear Eunha hushedly giving SinB an earful the whole way.

Undressing was a bit painful. Hyunjin had taken a particularly strong hit to one of his left ribs, and now that he could see the site of the impact, he could already tell it would be bruising. He hoped it wasn’t broken.

As he made his way to the open showers, he could hear Eunha and SinB again. They sounded like they were close to the locker room. There wasn’t a door to block the sound though, so he didn’t think much of it, but he knew something was up when he heard footsteps over the sound of the running water. Nobody else should be on this half of the building except his coach, who he hadn’t even informed of the fight. He quickly covered his dick with his hands and turned to the entrance.

And there was SinB, blushing furiously, looking straight up at the ceiling. “H-hey, Hyunjin. I’m sorry.”

“Um. Well, cool. Apology accepted. But is this really the--”

Hyunjin cut himself off as Eunha brushed past SinB. But unlike SinB, she was completely undressed. She walked toward him, small breasts bouncing with each step, getting soaked as she went directly through the spray of the showers. He started to smile, but noticed and quickly got rid of it. “Eunha, you’re…”

“I’m here to help you get cleaned up,” she finished his sentence for him, though it wasn’t what he was intending to say. “We can get to the restaurant sooner this way, right?”

Eunha grabbed a bar of soap from one of the little shelves along the wall and stopped just short of Hyunjin, who had lost all hope of being able to hide his erection. Not that Eunha seemed to mind, or even pay any attention. But it’s what she said next that made her intentions much, much clearer.

“You and Sowon aren’t exclusive, right?”

“No. I suppose we’ve been very clear that we aren’t.” Hyunjin took a hand away from his crotch to rub the back of his neck.

Eunha put a hand on Hyunjin’s arm, pointing at his neck. “Oh no. Are you feeling sore?” She gestured toward a stool. “Let me give you a massage. SinB!”

Hyunjin watched, half afraid and half mesmerized, as SinB quickly undressed and tossed all of her clothes back into the locker room. He let Eunha pull him down to sit on the stool she dragged underneath the stream of the shower. “I don’t really need a massage. It’s okay.”

“That’s good to hear! I’ll just get started on washing you up then. In the meantime, can you do me a favor?”

“Uh… Sure?”

While sitting on the stool, Hyunjin was just barely shorter than Eunha, which let her lean down to whisper in his ear. Her tone made it clear she was asking a question. “Let SinB practice on you?”

Hyunjin’s eyes went wide. “So Eunha, I don’t mean to sound like a perv here, but are you implying something about practicing a blowjob? Because I’ll take that.”

Eunha motioned for SinB to approach. “No, no. Why would you think that?” she asked, clearly twitching at the corner of her mouth as she tried not to smile. She slowly pulled Hyunjin’s other hand away from his full-mast dick.

In no time at all, SinB was standing in front of Hyunjin, hair getting drenched by the shower, hands behind her back, and eyes anywhere but on him. With a little difficulty, she moved to straddle his lap. The width of her legs put her bare pussy dangerously close to his cock.

Sure he knew where the situation was taking them, Hyunjin shifted his legs, pushing SinB’s a little farther apart. The head of his dick speared her. He watched as her chest rose and fell rapidly. She used her hands to brace herself on his shoulders. He wanted to make a snarky comment, but was having difficulty coming up with anything good. He was also distracted by the feeling of something hard against his cock. He reached around SinB and grabbed her butt. As his fingers explored, he was able to verify immediately that she had a butt plug inside of her.

“This is an interesting night,” he said simply.

Just then, Hyunjin felt Eunha pressing her front up against his back. Her skin glided over his, as if it was (and it was) covered in soap. At the same time, SinB lowered herself further onto his dick in a jerking, twitching way.

“I don’t know what you mean. Is something unusual, Hyunjin?” Eunha asked as she rubbed her tits and stomach up and down his back.

Hyunjin’s sarcasm struggled its way out of his throat as SinB started fucking him, bouncing herself and making a beautiful, wet scene of her slim body. “Not at all…” Hyunjin said, “Perfectly normal Wednesday night.”

Eunha couldn’t contain her giggle. She ran her soapy hands over Hyunjin’s shoulders, arms, and whatever parts of his legs she could reach with SinB in the way. He winced a little when she swept over his new bruise, but otherwise did his best not to react.

“How do you like SinB’s pussy?”

Hyunjin groaned. His grip on SinB’s asscheeks tightened subconsciously. He had to unclench his teeth to say, “It’s alright.”

“Hear that, SinB? Just alright. Maybe a bit amateurish.”

SinB’s shoulders tensed up visibly. “I said I was sorry…”

Eunha walked around to the shelves on the wall to pull a bottle of shampoo off. The close up view of Eunha’s plump, naked, wet ass just about set Hyunjin off. She was obviously arching her back just enough to make it noticeable.

“Damn, Eunha. I always admired your butt when you were my senior, but now… fuck…”

She turned to look at Hyunjin over her shoulder. “Oh thank you! Sounds like you’re thinking about cumming?”

Hyunjin nodded. With no hesitation at all, Eunha set the shampoo back down and pulled a visibly shocked SinB off of his cock. He was shocked too, about ready to ask why Eunha would do such a thing, but found his answer right away.

Eunha, facing away from Hyunjin, positioned herself between his legs and spread her ass with one hand, and grabbed his cock with the other. She directed it to an unexpected target, and Hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat as he was hilted completely in Eunha’s asshole.

“Now you can cum,” she said.

Hyunjin didn’t need to be told twice. He barely needed to be told once. His orgasm hit him harder than his opponent did in the ring. He grabbed Eunha’s hips and held her down against him as he pumped a gigantic load into her ass.

He brushed his hair back, suddenly light headed, feeling like his soul had just been pulled out of him through his cock. He saw SinB sitting back against the wall, still blushing bright red, masturbating as she stared between Eunha’s legs at the spot where Hyunjin was impaling her.

“So then,” Eunha said casually, despite having an ass full of Hyunjin’s dick and cum, “Did you want anything special for dinner? I have an idea if you don’t!”

Hyunjin smiled. He was still trying to comprehend what just happened, but he was happy with it, even if the intensity of his climax left him with the sound of a bell ringing in his ears.

#gfriend smut #kpop smut #male oc #eunha #sinb #request

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shreddedparchment · 3 years

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.12

Queen of New Asgard

12/02/2020

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 9,737

Warnings: fluff, cute babies, talks of pregnancy, angst, Avengers shenanigans, talks of sex

A/N: So this one is a bit longer than the rest, I really wanted to make sure that this one was a lengthy treat. I didn’t want to split the chapter into two between getting to the Avengers and then actually meeting them and spending tie with them. I wanted to keep it together. I hope you all like it! I had a lot of fun with it, and mostly, I just really love Thor. I want him for myself. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on other sites or blogs!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

To say you’re a mess would be an understatement.

At least having Thor by your side gives you a small sense of stability, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re about to meet the Avengers.

Earth’s mightiest heroes.

People so famous that everyone knows their name. Even people in remote parts of the world know they exist.

The sensation of being pulled and gliding through the air in Thor’s arms as the Bifrost glow surrounds you both in your transport is nothing compared to the rolling of your stomach at the thought of saying or doing something stupid in front of Thor’s friends and comrades.

You hold him tighter, loving the way he feels in full armor. Only because it really drives home the fact that he could protect you from anything as opposed to being comfortable.

You’re dressed more simply though not at all casual. The outfit you’re wearing was shoved into your bag with two others in case of official events that might crop up during your honeymoon.

Because dinner with Thor’s teammates is supposed to be a relaxed event, you chose the most unimpressive of the three.

The bodice consists of a one-piece made of leather. Armor would be more accurate in describing it. Though bits of it have been dyed a dark yet also soft gray-purple, others, like the right breast piece and the strip that wraps down around your left side are a natural brown. Textured with a ridged design to compliment the thinner more boned design of the gray-purple section.

Around your waist and laced at the back is another a-symmetrical piece of that natural brown leather, but along the base of it is sewn a long flowing skirt made of a cotton voile base in navy and a sheer silk light blue making the effect of it together like shifting water.

The skirt is left open slightly on the right. If anyone pays really close attention, they’ll see the top of your thigh in the sway. Generally, the dress is appropriate and since this will technically be your first public outing with Thor, it was important you look the part.

Neither of you is wearing a crown. Not necessary really, if it isn’t an official ceremony or event, but you are wearing the large golden pin that Thor had made for you to put on the left breast of your sleeveless gown.

It’s the same interlaced arches that are on your swords with a crown that looks just like your wedding crown at the center where the arches connect.

It shines bright, brand new as it is, and is a symbol of your new status in the world.

A human Queen of Asgard.

It’s safe to say that your name is known from one corner of the Earth to the other which you only just realized when you were doing some research on the time it takes for a body to decompose in a demi-damp environment occasionally exposed to heat. You’d stumbled across a tabloid page with the headline How the New Queen of Asgard Bewitched the God of Thunder.

You hadn’t bothered to read the article because it was clear exactly what kind of reporting they were doing from the picture of you, which someone had pulled from the website of your old school, sitting on Thor’s chest with a photoshopped smirk and glowing red eyes.

There were a few others you read, most of them nice and from official news sources. All of them detailing your tragic childhood and your ascension to wealth. Then your birth ancestry was exposed making you a top candidate for Queen of the Asgardians and in one article for the New York Times, you recognized the pictures of your wedding as you and Thor stared at each other in all of your enamored glory.

Anyone with eyes can see that you love him and in those pictures, you can admit that it helps you feel a bit more secure in Thor’s love to see that he’s looking at you the exact same way. How can he look at you like that and not love you? Or at least be really fond of you?

As the air gets colder, mushy gray snow lining the streets below you, Thor’s body pulls up, preparing to stand as his speed slows.

You feel him step onto the pavement before you do, then slowly he lowers you, large hands so careful with you that you can’t help but look for his eye to see what he might be feeling.

His eyes are not on you though. They’re on the crowd that’s slowly begun to gather.

They’re giving you a wide berth, but they’re stopping to look, and some have pulled out their cell phones to take photos or record video.

You can hear whispers shift through the cold New York winter air, people leaning over to each other in excitement and curiosity. Much like the crowd back in New Asgard had when you’d driven by them to get to your dress fitting and the wedding parade.

You can’t really make out what they’re saying but Thor can, and he wraps his arm around your waist, turns you to face those that are nearest, and waves.

You follow his example and give them as kind a smile as you can, despite the sudden nerves eating at you.

Shit, do you have to say something? Are you expected to?

“Hello everyone. I know most of you have seen her in the papers and on the interwebs already, but this is my beautiful and lovely Queen. My wife, Y/N.” Thor declares, but even your name he caresses with the soft shift in his tone.

“Hello?” You don’t mean it to come out as a question, but it does.

Still, there are a few people that giggle at your reaction.

A sense of calm overcomes those watching, as if finally hearing you speak seems to have burst a bubble.

“Aw yew a pwincess?” A small hand tugs at your skirts and you turn to look down at an adorable little girl with smooth deep brown skin. Her hair is gathered in two small buns, tight braids keep it neat.

All you can really see are her big brown eyes, so wide and full of wonder.

You pull from Thor’s grasp and squat down to be on the toddler’s level. She can’t be more than three.

“She’s my Queen, little one.” Thor explains, squatting down beside you. “Queen of New Asgard. Isn’t she pretty?”

The little girl giggles and nods, then reaches up to touch your own hair which has also been braided, one long in the middle giving it a mohawk look, and several other small braids along the sides to keep it neat while flying.

At least that’s the bit that you remember from this morning.

Thor had pulled you out of bed at four o’clock, led you to a chair in the bathroom and then started messing with your hair. Of course, that sent you right back off to sleep but you remember asking him sleepily at some point why he was braiding your hair and he’d explained that it was to keep it from getting all messy while flying.

That’s the last thing you remember before he was suddenly kissing you awake and then your mind was busy with the delicious way he carried you back to bed and then heartbroken when he said you had only ten minutes more to sleep while he showered.

You’re so tired.

Smiling at the little girl, watching her own joy grow in her eyes gives you new energy and you take her hand and hold it in your two.

“It’s so lovely to meet you…?”

A woman hurries over from the crowd, voice frantic as she seems to have finally spotted her little escapee.

“RUBY!” The poor mother cries, hurrying to her daughter’s side.

“Ruby,” You repeat.

The little girl turns to look at her mother while you keep hold of her hand.

“Wook mama! A Ka-ween!” She giggles and her mother slows, hesitating now that she notices you and Thor.

“Holy shi-” Her mother says, “I’m so sorry.”

Hurrying forward, she takes hold of Ruby’s shoulders and pulls her close, not because she’s threatened by you two or anything. She must be shocked.

You let her hand go as it’s pulled gently, and Thor helps you stand back up. Once you’re standing, he reaches down to take hold of your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“It’s okay.” You shake your head, smiling at the woman as Ruby turns to hug her leg excitedly. “She’s very sweet.”

“She’s a troublemaker. That’s what she is.” The woman counters. “D-Do I have to curtsy or somethin’?”

“Not this time.” Thor tells her, “For having such an adorable child, we’ll give you the curtsy pass.”

He’s joking. Teasing the woman.

“Thor…” You nudge him and he chuckles, amused by you more than his joke. “What he means to say is, yes. Normally you would have to, but he knows I’m already nervous out of my mind so it’s okay.”

The woman looks around behind her, aware of the flashing camera phones and the videos they must be taking. So, she turns back to you and clumsily makes a curtsy.

Little Ruby sees her do it and then turns to you and does an even clumsier version of the same bow.

“Thank you.” You manage to say, voice almost completely deprived of volume from how nervous her attention makes you.

“Yes,” Thor agrees, suddenly serious. “Thank you. Both of you, for the warm New York welcome.”

“It was nothing.” The woman says, dipping down to pick up Ruby. “Say buh-bye, Ruby.”

As they walk away, Ruby twists in her mother’s arms to look over her shoulder at you and Thor and waves.

“Buh-bye!”

“Bye, Ruby.” You wave at her, smiling at her cuteness before you look up to meet Thor’s gaze.

“See, that wasn’t so terrible.” Thor gives you a squeeze. “Just our luck that it was an adorable child to greet you first.”

“She was so cute!” You gush, wishing you could take her home.

Maybe Thor sees the deep want in your own face because he leans in and presses his lips to your temple before resting them softly against your ear.

“Don’t worry, cherub. Soon we’ll have our own little one running around the palace.” He promises.

Even though he means it in an innocent way, the deep tone and intent in his voice is also very clear and if there weren’t a lot of people watching, you’d pull him down for a kiss.

He smirks down at you, almost like he knows that you picked up on that lusty vibe despite his words being sweet.

“You’re not playing fair.” You complain.

Thor chuckles then gives the crowd, which has grown quite a bit, another wave.

“Something to look forward to when we go home.” He reasons.

“Will we get to do everything you want with this crowd around us?” You give them a look and tuck yourself into Thor’s side a little more but wave all the same.

All these eyes on you. Watching you. Listening to every little thing you say?

“I’ll make it possible, cherub.” Thor assures you.

He twirls his hammer, a near replica of the one his sister destroyed before they arrived on Earth and takes a step towards the crowd with the look of someone about to make a speech.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you look at yourself, you still look like you. Still wearing the dress you’d pulled on in the morning. Braids still in place.

Thor is still in full uniform. Still holding his hammer. But as the two of you walk through the city, no one stops to look.

After you and Thor had ducked into that first shop—a bakery that had lured him in by the nose because apparently the breakfast you’d cooked him hadn’t been enough—and emerged freshly fed, none of the people who had stopped to watch you when you'd landed were looking at you as you passed them.

Some of them even looked right at you then away as if they didn’t recognize you.

“It’s magic.” Thor whispers in your ear.

He straightens up, watching you with an amused grin as understanding overcomes your face.

“A trick my mother taught me that Loki has helped me perfect. Would you like us to see what they do? Our clothes, I mean? We’ll still see each other.”

“Sure.” You nod, excited by the proximity of magic to yourself.

Thor gives you a nod. He twirls his hammer, held loose in his right hand and it turns into an umbrella.

His clothes are neat and somewhat formal. More of a business casual with dark pressed trousers, a thick black t-shirt made of a heavy and soft cotton blend. His jacket is coal gray, with just the slightest hint of brown.

You gasp lightly, stunned by the sight of him with two electric blue eyes. No sleek black and gold eyepatch. Just two pretty orbs that blink at the shock on your face.

“What, love?” He worries, reaching down to place his hand on your lower back as the two of you continue down the sidewalk.

“Your eyes.” You shake your head, speechless.

“Oh, yes. Well, it helps me blend in.”

His blonde hair is styled too, a smooth wave of the longer hair along the top of his head. Why is he so pretty?

Thor chuckles.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He teases, still looking forward.

“I’m staring,” You huff a laugh. “I’m sorry.”

But you give yourself a look and find yourself wearing a chic black pantsuit. More heavy cotton blend fabric from head to toe. It has that waterproof sheen though. Like if you spill something it’ll just roll off. Black long sleeve shirt with a higher than normal collar. It’s just a few inches short of being a turtleneck.

Over that you’re wearing a sleeveless wool trench coat with big black buttons and large pockets. The cut is feminine and left open since it’s cold but not too cold during the day with the sun streaming down.

It’ll be different tonight.

“We have these actual clothes waiting for us at the compound. I had them sent over when Stark told me that I’d be able to bring you for introductions. We can change in my room once we’re there, so we won’t be as constricted.” Thor takes your hand to his lips and gives it a kiss.

“You have a room at the compound? Isn’t it like a military base or something?” You wonder.

“Parts of it. There is a shooting range and a hangar with plenty of planes and jets. A pretty large garage with quite the selection of cars. Maybe we can go for a drive after dinner for some alone time?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, but you’re still trying to wrap your mind around bedrooms at the compound.

“Do some of the Avengers live on the compound?”

“Yes.” Thor nods, his attention pulled away from his suggestive expression. “Several of them do. Wanda lives there. Captain Rogers, Natasha, Vision, Samuel and Barnes live there now too. Stark has moved out to be with Pepper on some cabin they purchased together a year ago.

“Barton lives with his family, so he doesn’t stay at the compound. And of course, for me it has been a home away from home. The only other person that stays there but doesn’t live there permanently is Banner.

“After we arrived from our journey in space, he took to his lab and slept at the compound for nearly six months before he finally went home. He hasn’t come back to the compound since. Says he’s working on something, but he’s promised to be here for our dinner.” Thor assure you.

Sad to say that you can’t exactly be as excited as he is as the list of names, he just went through looms over you like a test you didn’t study for.

Suddenly he stops, and he waves over at another tall blonde man with storm blue eyes and what looks to be a full beard. His slightly outgrown blonde hair is pushed back, the tresses smooth and silky as he hurries towards you both, brown leather bomber jacket zipped shut over a pair of jeans.

“Oh, you’re dressed up.” He says, but you recognize him and as Thor stops, you find yourself gaping at Captain America. “Maybe I should have picked something nicer.”

“Not necessary. You and the rest of the team are friends.” He takes Captain America’s hand and shakes it before they both meet in a quick hug.

“It’s been too long.” Thor admits.

“Well, you’re a busy man now. King and all that.”

“H-How did you recognize us?” You stutter, focusing on the mystery before you instead of the fact that Captain America is standing right fucking there!

“I let him see us.” Thor explains. “The veil holds only for those I want to shield us from.”

“Oh.” You whisper, not intending to but you have no air in your lungs again.

Thor seems to read your frayed nerves because he reaches around to wrap his arm around your waist and offer you some support.

“Captain Rogers, this is my lovely and very nervous wife, Y/N Y/L/N. Queen of Asgard and if I’m honest, the love of my life.” Thor’s honest gushing, the way he sounds honest and so freaking sincere brings you back to yourself a little and with a squeeze from him, you relax.

“Steve, Thor. Please. I’m not Captain America anymore.” He says, almost as if it’s a reminder.

This confuses you because as far as you know, Steve Rogers is still Captain America.

“I read the e-mail.” Thor says, shaking his head. “I thought perhaps it was a joke.”

“Since when have I ever joked about something this serious?”

“I don’t know, I thought perhaps you might have-”

Steve Rogers turns to you, ignoring Thor for the moment as he holds his hand out and slowly you take it.

“I know I should probably bow, but we don’t want everyone knowing who I’m talking to so, is a handshake okay?”

“Of course!” You say breathlessly as he shakes your hand softly. His grip is firm, but you can tell he’s very aware of not hurting you.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” He begins, then leans in towards you and whispers, “Your Majesty.”

Both of you are left smiling while Thor’s eyes are narrowed at the two of you.

“How do you find married life? Has Thor gotten on your nerves yet?”

You can tell he’s joking because while he’s talking to you, he steals a quick side-eye at Thor to gauge his reaction.

“Not yet. But he does like to eat all of the bacon.” You whisper.

Steve makes a pained look, directing it at Thor, still holding your hand in that gentle handshake.

“That’s a big no-no.” Steve agrees.

“Right?” You press, enjoying the pout on Thor’s lips.

“Alright, Rogers, release my wife’s hand.” He reaches and takes your hand out of Steve’s forcefully, but you and Steve only chuckle.

Thor pulls your hand up against his chest and with his other arm still around your waist, he’s basically got you wrapped up in his arms.

“Come on, everyone’s waiting.” Steve laughs, moving towards a black luxury sedan.

Thor makes to move forward but you pull back, resisting because meeting Steve Rogers was already stressful enough.

Now you have to go meet the rest of them? Can’t you just call it quits now?

“Cherub?” Thor looks at you, the concern pouring from him so overwhelmingly sweet that you give in.

He wants this so badly. It’s so important to him. You’ll also have to do many things from here on out that will make you anxious and stressed.

Suck it up.

“I’m just nervous.” You tell him, as if he can’t already see it himself.

“Thor?” Steve calls from the driver’s side of the car. He’s got the door open, both arms resting against the top of the vehicle.

“A moment, Steve.” Thor says, and for some reason it gives Steve a curious look on his face.

It’s almost as if he’s not used to Thor calling him by his first name.

“You have nothing to be nervous about, my love. You’ve already met Rogers and he’s like one of those dogs with the long ears and the funny long howl when it comes to sensing when anything’s amiss. Clearly, he likes you. You’re perfection, Y/N. You have nothing to worry about.”

Thor’s gushing should make you feel better, and it does a little. But you’re about to meet so many people. All of them important to Thor. What if you say something that makes one of them angry? What if you and one of them—or all of them—just don’t mesh well?

“I just-I-I don’t want to, I don’t know, disappoint you?”

Thor’s face falls into complete adoration. His smile is soft but wide and so pleased. He takes a step towards you, reaching up with both hands to place them on the back of your head, just behind your ears.

“You’ve already made me so proud, cherub. You’re here, standing with your head held high, greeting the people of a foreign country with grace and kindness. You’ve made jokes with one of my closest comrades already. I have every faith that you will continue to outshine me.” He chuckles as you relax a little more. “Do you need a few minutes?”

You shake your head, reaching up to take hold of his wrists. “No.”

“Ready?”

“Yes,” you nod.

Thor slips his hands down, flicking them gently so that he can take hold of both your hands.

He pulls them to his lips and kisses them, never breaking eye contact.

He must lose concentration for his magic because as he kisses your knuckles, his two eyes turn into one as the eyepatch takes its place again.

His regular clothes turn back into his armor and your own dress shifts back into the more Asgardian appropriate attire.

“Uh, Thor?” Steve Rogers insists.

Thor looks at him and with a nod towards his body, Steve Rogers communicates the problem.

You look around and people are stopping their shopping and walking and going about their days to turn and look at the two Asgardian monarchs suddenly standing on the sidewalk in a sweet and affectionate embrace.

“Oops.” Thor smiles at them and gives them a wave while simultaneously taking hold of your hand.

You follow his lead and give them a regal wave and polite smile as he pulls you towards the car. Steve Rogers is already there, holding the back door open for you.

You get in and he shuts the door as Thor moves around to the other side and gets in too.

“You distracted me.” He accuses you, reaching around you to pinch your side.

You give a small scream of laughter then look at the watching crowd with a startled and embarrassed smile, but they’re pleased by the exchange. Some of them taking video and photos. Others just giggling and laughing along with you.

There are a few young women and men who even look envious. And honestly? Who wouldn’t?

You look and Thor and as he chuckles at your reaction to his teasing and the reaction of those watching as Steve Rogers pulls the car away from curb, you can understand their envy because Thor is beautiful and anyone, even if in the end they decide they don’t want to be with him, would be lucky to share in his love.

~~~~~~~~~~

You made Thor promise to keep his hands to himself and you’re already regretting it.

You feel like you’re going to pass out. It’s all wobbly on your legs.

Knees are buckling and you might go down any second.

Thor takes an inch in your direction, but you give him a frown and he clears his throat before going right back to the spot he’d been in.

Both of you stand in a long common room. There are two modern armchairs in a gray almost beige cotton fabric. Two long sofas in an orange sandstone color sit completely occupied.

On the sofa to the right sit two beautiful red heads. One has short shoulder-length hair with pale blonde tips. The other’s long locks in a deeper less vibrant red fall to the base of her shoulder blades.

The brighter red headed woman has a sharp face, with large bright green eyes and eyebrows that start somewhat full on the inner corners and slowly fade into much thinner lines.

They’re perfectly shaped for her face though it does give her a sterner look.

She’s wearing a plain black dress with capped sleeves and a plunging V neckline. Her shoes are simple black flats though, which she taps against the floor as she waits for you to speak. Black Widow is just as fearsome as she looks in the news.

The other woman is much younger, her youthful face round. Her eyes are a pretty soft brown, more inviting though still a little distrustful. This must be Wanda, the Scarlet Witch.

It’s like she’s analyzing every move you make.

Fuck.

Beside her sits a man with peachy skin, short blondish-reddish hair. He looks older than her, but still handsome.

Despite the appearance of his older age, he has hold of one of Wanda’s hands. Fingers intertwined.

They’re together.

Vision, your mind provides.

On the other sofa sits Steve, his eyes kind as he waits patiently for you to be ready. Beside him sits a handsome black man with an exhausted expression.

You can tell that it isn’t directed at you, but he looks tired. Just home from doing some Avengers work, maybe?

Beside him sits a middle-aged man with small streaks of gray at his temples. His face is kind, but he seems like he’s preoccupied. Like he’s got places to be or things to do.

He keeps wringing his hands slowly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he watches you.

On the far armchair is the man himself, Tony Stark. He looks every bit a king in his domain, just like Thor back home in New Asgard.

He owns the place—literally—and everyone knows it just by watching him sit there. He’s inquisitive about you, his mind clearly racing from the look in his eyes.

He’s the most analytical out of everyone. He keeps looking at you from head to toe, every shift in your stance, the way you hold your hands, or the fact that you’re looking each of them over and making your own conclusions catches his attention.

The last person in the room, and the only other one standing aside from you and Thor, is a tall beefy man with shortly cropped dark brown hair. He also looks tired, and he reaches up to rub his exhausted face with his shining black arm etched with golden veins that run through the sleek indestructible metal.

Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier. Though most people still call him that, from what Thor said in your prep when coming is that he’s been fixed?

No, that’s not the right way to phrase that. He’s not a dog. He’s been deprogrammed.

You don’t quite understand what that means, but you realized as Thor spoke that Hydra had done something to Bucky to make him do the things that he’d done. Like brainwashing, though you know nothing about how one gets brainwashed.

It made you sad, that someone would be that cruel and take from someone their identity and all the things that make them who they are. You heart aches for the former Winter Soldier and he gives you the tinies of smiles. Just a soft and subtle gesture of encouragement.

All eyes in the room are on you, and you’re freezing up so you appreciate the figurative extended hand.

When you speak, your voice trembles at first.

“I-It’s so…I’m s-so…”

They stir, sitting up straighter at the sound of your voice.

Get it together! You’re Queen of an entire fucking kingdom!

You clear your throat, and with a quick shallow breath you try again.

“I’m sorry, I’m a l-little nervous. I know how important you all are to Thor and I-I know this was sudden. We were both really sorry that you couldn’t come to the wedding but I’m so glad to meet you now. My name is Y/N, and I…I think that’s it?”

Turning to Thor, you find him smiling wide, singular eye bright. He’s proud and you can see it in the way he pulls his shoulders back and moves back towards you, slipping his arm around your waist.

Both of you are wearing the real versions of his illusion now minus the coats, formal King and Queen garb abandoned in his room.

Thor’s arm is a welcome warmth.

“That was wonderful, cherub.”

“Cherub?” A snarky voice teases, and both of you turn to look at Tony Stark.

“Leave them alone, Tony. I’ve heard some of the things you call Pepper when you think we aren’t listening.” The Black Widow, Natasha, cuts in.

“Like what?”

“Pudding-pop?”

“That’s a good one.” Thor observes. “Can I borrow it?”

“All y’all being really gross.” The new Captain America, Sam, points out.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have your own pudding-pop.” Bucky sighs, moving to the back of the sofa to lean both hands on the seat and look down at his friend.

“When’s the last time you had someone call you pudding-pop, Barnes?” Sam wonders, a clear attempt at a jab.

“Uh…1943? Just after I enlisted.” He answers, no sarcasm or embarrassment about that fact.

“You both need to get a life.” Natasha points out.

“You first.” Sam retorts.

Natasha fixes him with a look of confusion before getting up and moving towards Bucky. For a moment it looks as if she’s just going to pass right by him and into the kitchen behind him, but instead she slips her arm through his metal one and leans against him gently.

“I’ve got one. Don’t I, pudding-pop?”

The silence that follows is heavy but with building energy.

Then the room explodes with exclamations of, “What?!”

“When did this happen?!”

“How long have you two been a thing?”

“Why?!”

With their attention diverted, you relax, leaning into Thor’s embrace as Natasha catches your eye and gives you a quick subtle wink.

“I thought we were gonna wait?” You hear Bucky ask Natasha over the cacophony of voices demanding information, all of them on their feet again too except for Steve who is smiling and hiding it behind his hand.

Obviously he already knew, and it’s also obvious that Natasha revealed her relationship with Bucky for your benefit and to make meeting you the secondary event of this get together and while some women would be pissed that she’s gone and stolen your spotlight, you could not be more grateful.

~~~~~~~~~~

A metallic shoulder rubs against the side of your head and you lean away, gasping because you hadn’t expected the sensation.

You’re greeted with a metallic mask, similar to those of Tony Stark’s Iron Man helmet with slight variations around the mouth. The color is also brushed silver, the body white and red. It shifts to the side a little, away from you but it tips its head down in apology like an old 18th century gentleman.

“I’m sorry. Please, excuse me while I collect your empty plates.” The robot says.

“Sorry about the A.I., Cherub.” Tony says, then gives a quiet whistle. “Hey Bud, why don’t you take the night off?”

Beside you, Thor chuckles at Tony’s new nickname for you. He’s done nothing but call you cherub since Thor did earlier in the night. It’s going to stick, or so Steve had promised.

The A.I. straightens up and puts the plates back down before moving off down the hall and out of sight.

“Bud?” Bruce Banner asks, who insisted you call him Bruce and drop the Doctor and the last name.

You have to keep reminding yourself to do so every time you talk to him. Because you can’t seem to remember, you’ve just chosen not to talk to him until you can.

Tony gets to his feet, moving around the table to lean over you, hand placed on his jacket to keep it from swinging against you.

“B.U.D.” He repeats, each letter on its own. “Buggy and Underdeveloped. I’m working on it. I’ve got their manners down. Jarvis quality though not as reliable. Vision is helping me work out the kinks.”

“I do what I can.” Vision says, Wanda reaching around to massage the back of his shoulders.

“You’ve made all the improvements. Tony had them calling us dickheads that one week before he asked for your help.”

“It was a typo!” Tony moves around to Natasha’s plate and piles it on top of yours, then Bucky’s who mutters a nervous thanks which Tony also mutters back a somewhat stiff approval.

You’re not given much time to notice their exchange before Thor’s hand finds your thigh under the table and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.” You smile at him, reaching down to take his hand. “Just surprised. I’ve never been around artificial intelligence of that caliber.”

“Don’t worry, Cherub. You’ll be used to it soon. You’ll be getting an upgrade at that pretty space cottage of yours pretty soon.” Tony says, grabbing a few glasses one at a time as he moves around the table.

“I’ll help you, Stark.” Thor suddenly says and releases your hand to move around the table and grab the other plates and glasses.

Why does he call him by his last name? Habit maybe?

“Thanks,” Tony nods.

“Space cottage?” You’re not sure what he means.

“Yeah, that big wooden house you all call a palace?” Tony clarifies.

“Oh,” Silly way to look at it. “There’s steel too.”

Tony smirks, “Well, I’ll be sending some people over to get a security system installed and an advanced satellite scanner to catch any movements that might come in from—up there. With this new threat that-”

Thor coughs loudly, dropping a glass that makes a terrible shattering glass sound against the black tabletop. Bucky catches the glass and holds it still then offers it up to him again.

Tony meets Thor’s singular eyed gaze who shakes his head minutely.

“-which I guess you’re not supposed to know? Whoops.” And with that he turns and leaves the room.

You look at Thor and find him watching you, then he quickly turns and follows Tony out of the room.

Whenever you’ve read in the past that someone sees red, you’d always suspected that it was metaphorical. However, you see red as your brain short circuits and all you can feel is a level rage.

The one thing you’d asked of Thor was that he won’t keep secrets from you and here is one, not even a week after your wedding!

“Don’t worry.” Natasha interjects, getting up from her seat. “When it’s worth knowing about, Thor will tell you. He just doesn’t want you to worry.”

Your frown only grows. You can’t seem to get your sudden temper flare under control.

“You’re upset.” Steve notices, getting up when everyone also starts to rise. “Why?”

You follow their example and get to your feet, pushing your chair under the table before following them into a smaller living room space just off the main common room while trying to quell your anger.

The living room is mostly white and gray with a long sectional that is full of red pillows.

“Because I’m Queen of New Asgard.” You point out, speaking a little more firmly than you mean to.

Steve gestures to the seat at the edge of the sectional and you take it, swallowing hard as you shove some of that upset down into your tummy so that you won’t lash out at the very nice people that Thor sees as family.

“You are.” Steve agrees. “No one would argue that you aren’t.”

Does he not get it?

“He might not want me to worry, but I have a responsibility to the people of New Asgard. If something is happening that might affect them, I need to know.” You cross your arms across your chest, huffing lightly and letting that be the peak of your temper.

You don’t want to fight with Thor here in front of everyone.

The reaction isn’t what you expect.

Sam, who is sitting on the floor at the bend in the sofa leaning against it as the weight of his sleepiness begins to take over, whistles.

Long and slow.

Bucky chuckles as Natasha settles beside him, her arms crossed across her chest as she leans back into his arm.

They don’t look together even if they are, just comfortable. Bucky’s arm curves a little more for her and is the only giveaway that there’s more between them than friendship.

She smirks. On the sofa beside you, Wanda leans forward to try and get a look at your pouting face, her red curtain of hair falling over her shoulder. Vision is standing by the TV looking at a collection of records to put on a turntable that sits ready and empty.

Dr. Ban-Bruce isn’t anywhere in sight.

Steve settles in beside Wanda but closer to Sam, leaving enough room for Vision to sit when he’s finished with the music.

“Thor said you had some bite.” Natasha shares, “Said something about you standing up for Loki? What’s that about?”

You feel your cheeks burn, neck too. With a shrug, you drop your arms and clutch at the fabric of your pants by your knees.

“Yeah, dude’s pretty psycho,” Sam adds.

“Sure, yeah, because a bunch of people dressing up in costumes and going around fighting crime and otherworldly forces are completely sane.”

Shit, did you seriously just say that?

There’s a beat of silence, then, “She sounds very sensible. Now that I’ve had some time with it, I think the cape might have been a touch too far.”

Everyone chuckles, and you turn to look at Vision who finally picks an album and slips it in place.

“Sorry,” You offer, hesitating a moment before you decide to explain yourself. “Loki has been nothing but kind to me. And calling him a psycho offends me. I know you all and the rest of the planet, have issues with him and what he did…so did I, but he’s trying. And he’s family now…like you all…so…”

Your words trail off as you turn to look for Thor, but you can still see him across the common room in the kitchen, exchanging hushed words with Tony and it’s starting to rile you up again. What’s coming? What’s so important that Thor has brought in the Avengers too?

“What did Thor call it?” Bucky asks Nat.

“Bite.” Steve tells him, “She’s got bite.”

“I’d say it’s more like a sting. But she’s right. I don’t think any of us here can judge someone by their past. At least I can’t.” Bucky nods.

“Or me,” Nat agrees.

“Or me,” Wanda smiles.

And then the music starts. Vision turns, hands behind his back as he also smiles at the general pleasantries.

“Taylor Swift?” Sam demands, “Really?”

Vision’s smile vanishes and he gives him nice wide eyes of surprise, “I’ve never heard this one before.”

“Excuse me.” You get up and move towards the kitchen, determined to get an explanation while the room behind you continues to argue the merits of Vision exploring different musical avenues.

“Whose album even is that?” Sam demands.

Steve clears his throat, “I think you should both get some sleep. I want a debrief first thing in the morning. I might not be Captain America anymore, but I’m still running this show.”

“Don’t try to change the subject, you’ve never accepted the boss mantle until now. Which other albums do you have in your room that you’re too afraid to share?” Nat adds.

“Hey, I have no shame in my musical taste.” Steve defends.

As you near the kitchen, the open spaces separated only by two large circular pillars and a sleek concrete counter island, you slow as their quiet conversation begins to reach your ears. It wasn’t necessarily that you’re trying to eavesdrop…but they’re not talking about what you expected them to be talking about. So, you freeze.

Too nervous to move, forward because what the hell? Or back, because they’ll no doubt hear your retreat.

Where’s the talk about threats to the kingdom and planet? No, you get a nice dose of fear and jealousy instead.

“You only knew her for a week before you married her?”

“It was arranged. All of you knew this. I explained it the last time we met.”

“I get that, but what-” You can hear the hesitation in Tony’s voice.

Despite the fact that he knows he probably shouldn’t bring it up, he throws his dishtowel on the counter and turns around to lean against it as Thor’s hands continue to sift through the dishes, washing them slowly. “What happened to Foster? Weren’t you two pretty hot and heavy? Last time you brought her here-”

“Jane has other priorities.” Thor cuts him off, clearly still hurt from his breakup with Jane.

You hate the sound in his voice. Why does he have to be so clearly heartbroken?

“That’s all I get?” Tony asks, waiting and leaning in a little closer to Thor.

“What else would you have me say? It was hard to leave her. And if I’m honest, I still find myself thinking about what life might have become if she’d been ready to settle down.”

What?

You take a step back, wanting to get away from this horrible conversation you wish you hadn’t accidentally run into. Retreat being heard be damned!

But then, “Cherub?”

It’s Tony, a smirk in his voice as he turns to help Thor dry the dishes he sets aside.

“She is my angel.” Thor smiles, just a teeny upturn at the corners of his lips as he steals a glance at Tony.

Your heart gives a painful clench at the love that you’ve been seeing in his eye pour through in his voice.

“A celestial creature sent to me by fate. I had no knowledge of the capacities of love. I’ve only ever found love as I found Jane’s. We were met by chance, and the attraction was clear and instant. Intention as well. With my cherub, things though they grew quickly, were harder to find. I had to look past my own melancholia to see that she was there waiting for me.”

“She does look like she’s completely lost it.” Tony nudges Thor aside because he’s taking so long and takes over the washing.

“I hope you mean lost her heart to me?”

“What else? Her mind? Though why anyone would agree to rule an entire country is beyond me.”

“She’s brave.” Thor boasts, body completely relaxed. “I’ve never known anyone with her courage. The first night of our engagement she demanded that I be honest with her, even if I decided to keep Jane as a mistress.”

Tony looks at him, eyebrow quirked as he asks a voiceless question.

“Which of course, is out of the question. I entertained the thought for a bit, I can’t deny it. At the very beginning as I was making my plans to go leave Jane, to end things permanently so that I could do right by Y/N and really try to make our marriage something lasting—I wanted to keep Jane at my side by any means necessary.

“Imagining a life without her was painful and I hate to admit that I had every intention in those last moments before I saw her to ask her to be with me even after I was married.” Thor confesses, sounding torn between guilt and desperation.

You remember seeing that desperation in him before he’d gone to see Jane.

Even after his proposal to you, even after those earth-moving kisses, he’d wanted to keep Jane at his side.

Of course, he did. You shouldn’t be surprised by that. He and Jane had shared so much before you came into the picture. Before you were forced in if you’re honest.

Still, it hurts, and you hate hearing it.

For a second time, you take a step back, wanting to leave.

But then, “What changed your mind?”

Thor sighs heavily, exasperated, exhausted by something.

He crosses his large arms across his chest, black shirt straining against his biceps and pecs. He’s so massive. Standing next to Tony only accentuates that fact.

“It took her two hours to make time to speak with me, and another three before she stopped explaining her work on energy spikes in some far East quadrant of space to let me even bring up the fact I was officially engaged to someone else.

“The only reason I was able to hold off for so long is that she would come and kiss me every twenty minutes to promise that she’d be done soon.”

You hate that.

“It was the waiting around after three months of having seen her last and six months since we’d been together. I just couldn’t stand the thought of that always being my life. As much as I loved her, I didn’t want to spend my marriage waiting for a woman when another had already assured me of her commitment to rule at my side as wife and Queen.”

“Is that the only reason you’re so into your Cherub? Because she obviously likes you?”

“No.” Thor shakes his head, “No, there are many things about Y/N that draw me to her. Most of them I’ve discovered since I made the choice to really let Jane go. When I came home that night, she was there to lure me back from the pit I’d crawled myself into by telling Jane goodbye.”

Tony stops washing to fix Thor with a knowing gaze. He scoffs then turns back to his washing.

“So, the sex is good, is what you’re saying?”

“The sex is very good. Incredibly good. I have no complaints about our physical chemistry. In fact, it’s better than with Jane or anyone else I’ve ever been with. I’m not sure what it is, but we are very well suited in the bedroom. She has such vigor, such desire. I am never in no doubt of her want of me. It’s so good that I almost didn’t want to bring her here because then I’d have to give up an entire day of having her to myself wrapped up in nothing but her bedsheets.”

“Alright, I think I get the picture.” Tony holds up one soapy hand to stop Thor’s bragging. “So, she sleeps with you and makes you feel better. Jane makes you wait, so you end it for good. Did you at least give her a proper goodbye?”

Thor is silent, and this time, you don’t want to know. You’ve already guessed and have been suspecting that this is very much the case, but you don’t want the confirmation.

If that’s what happened when he went to see Jane, you don’t want to know. Even if it happened before you two were married and really together, it happened when you were already in the picture and your heart was already being swayed.

Stepping out from behind the large round pillar, one hand resting against the smooth black curve, you watch Thor think about Tony’s question, tilting his head up to look across the room towards the living room space where the Avengers are now laughing about who the hell knows what.

He sees you and his face loses color.

“Thor?”

“What’s the matter?” He asks, a small bit of panic in his voice.

He moves towards you and you move towards him, meeting halfway.

“Did you hear?” He knows, probably because of whatever is on your face that’s making him panic.

His large hands are already pushing your numerous braids back, throwing them over your shoulders gently so that he can place his hands on your neck.

“Thor,” You repeat, this time getting a hold of yourself and reaching up to grab his wrists and pull his hands down away from your face. “What’s coming?”

This is why you’d come in here, and this is what you’ll insist on knowing. Fuck everything else they were talking about. You don’t want to know, and you don’t care what happened or what Thor felt before both of you exchanged vows.

“What?”

He seems stunned by the shift of topic, despite the agony that you’d momentarily been in. His voice even cracks a little, too shocked by the change.

“The new threat,” You clarify. “This new thing that we need satellites back home for? What is it? What’s happening? I know that you probably don’t want me to worry or want to protect me or maybe you’re still thinking of me as a civilian? But I’m Queen of our kingdom, Thor. If something is coming for us, I deserve to know. I need to know what’s coming if I’m going to help you protect our people. It’s my job and I can’t do it if you don’t let me.”

“Cherub’s got a point.” Tony adds, and claps Thor on the shoulder before gathering up a tray and makes his way out of the kitchen and towards the others with a bottle of beer for each of them.

“You’re right.” Thor nods, reaching to take your hands and he pulls them up to his lips kiss away the pain that he must have seen you feeling.

He seems to know though that you don’t want to focus on that and so he doesn’t bring it up.

You can tell he wants to though. He really wants to talk about what was just said in this kitchen.

“Yes, you’re right, you should know and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want you frightened or worried when you didn’t have to be, but you’re right. As Queen, you have every right to know what might be coming. But can’t we wait to talk about it until later? Tonight perhaps? When we’re alone?”

You don’t want to agree. You want to make demands of him and make him tell you everything right now. However, you also know that you’re a little angry about what you overheard and that’s probably why your pulse is pounding in your throat, heart ramming itself against your ribcage.

“Fine.” You huff then turn to move back into the living room.

“Hey,” He coaxes you back, voice low and deep so that the others won’t hear him.

He catches your wrist and pulls you back gently.

“Did you hear us? Because if you did, when I went to leave Jane I-”

“I don’t wanna know, Thor. If you slept with her, I don’t want to know.” You sigh, stomach clenching painfully. “You did what you have to do. It’s not like you and I fell in love in any kind of traditional way. We were forced together and now we’re married. I’m not stupid.”

“Of course you aren’t, and as true as all of that is, I don’t like the way you’re talking about it.” Thor agonizes, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer and further into the kitchen out of view of the others. “You’re acting as if I don’t love you, or as if it’s a farce. I love you, cherub. It happened quickly, but it is real.”

“I know that, Thor,” It’s nice to hear though, because you’re seriously feeling weak in the confidence you’d spent every night since your wedding building.

For a bit there, you’d believed wholeheartedly that Thor loves you. You still do…but the realities of Jane and how quickly he’d had to end that relationship with her because he had to marry you to give his people a Queen have been brought to light and ruptured the bubble of your new marital bliss.

It’s also suddenly very clear to you that he must still love Jane very much. Even if he loves you too. There’s no way he can move on this quickly.

“You don’t look like you do. You look sad and it’s putting knots in my stomach, love. Please don’t doubt me now.”

Fuck!

You lean forward, shoving your forehead against his wide chest. You wrap your arms around his waist and fist the back of his shirt as he brings his hands up to the sides of your head. You can feel his lips against your scalp, kissing against the large middle braid that goes down along the back of your head.

“This is so hard.” You admit, hating your jealousy.

“I wish I could take all of your strife.” He kisses your head again, an audible smack. “I’m sorry I’m the one making it for you.”

Both of you knew that this would be tricky.

“I swear to you, cherub, it’s only you. You are the only woman I want and the only being in the universe that I want to bear my children.” His words are full of truth and you look up at him to find that same honesty in his gaze.

It’s pained and sorrowful and you hate it.

“I shouldn’t have listened.” You pull yourself up against his body and push yourself up with puckered lips.

Eagerly he leans down to meet your lips with his own but he shifts his head to the side to deepen the peck you’d wanted to leave you in no doubt as to his devotion, or at the very least, his passion.

He leans down to wrap his arms around you and press you up against the side of the pillar.

“Thor…” You whisper when he pulls back to tilt his head the other way. “We’re guests here.”

The reminder cools him down and he places his hands on your hips instead while you tickle the hairs on the back of his neck.

“We should get back to your friends.”

Thor sighs heavily, hating this idea, but he knows you’re right.

He reaches up to take hold of the back of your neck, squeezing it possessively before he leans down to give you one more quick kiss.

“Tonight, I will leave you in no doubt as to my devotion and love. I promise.”

His declaration takes your breath away, and apparently Bruce’s too as he sputters a cough around his own beer as he freezes on the other side of the kitchen by the fridge where another large round pillar lines a different entrance opposite the side you’re both standing on.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Bruce says, reaching up to wipe at the beer dribble around his mouth.

Thor takes his hands back and you slip out from between him and the pillar then make your way back towards the living room feeling flushed.

As you walk back in, observing the room, Steve and Vision are currently playing an apparently rousing game of Connect Four on the floor while Nat and Bucky sit cuddled up on the far corner of the sectional, talking quietly but also giving the two battling on the floor the occasional glance.

Wanda is on her phone, typing away quickly with a beer held between her thighs. Sam is standing by the records, despite his previous griping, nodding his head as Taylor Swift’s 22 fills the space.

Tony is on his own phone, standing in the far corner of the room with a sappy smile on his own face which tells you he’s probably talking to his own wife, Pepper Potts, who couldn’t make it tonight due to a work engagement.

All of them have a beer around them or in hand, and as you make your way towards the bend in the sectional feeling a little like you’re intruding, just as your back hits the sofa a cold bottle meets your cheek.

You jump a little but turn to look and Tony holds out a sealed bottle for you.

“You okay with import? Or do you want domestic?” He asks, holding his phone to his shoulder, brows drawn together as he waits for your answer.

“This is fine, thanks.” You take the bottle and then give him a quick smile.

“Good, because then I’d have sent you down to get your own.” He assures you, but a voice from his phone calls his name and he hurries away again, phone pressed to his ear.

You look at the bottle of beer in your hands, wondering if the top is a twist but when you go to turn it the ridges hurt your hand and you stop instantly.

Just as you’re about to lean over and ask Bucky to open the bottle for you, the sectional dips beside you and heat envelops your shoulder and side as Thor sits right beside you.

“It sounds like excuses to me.” He says, looking at Bruce who sits down beside him with a bit more space allowed between them.

“It’s not an excuse,” Bruce insists. “I’m working on something that needs all of my concentration. I’ll come visit soon, I promise. I’m going to be coming with Tony for the security system installation so, I’ll get to see the palace then.”

“Thor?” You hold the bottle up for him and he takes it from you, kissing the side of your head before he simply flicks the top with his thumb and it flies off and falls right on Steve’s head.

“Hey,” He complains, but then gets distracted as Vision connects his four red chips.

“I win.” Vision declares.

“Damn,” Steve concedes. “You got me. Go again?”

Vision dumps the chips, and they start splitting them up.

“Here you are, cherub.” Thor hands you back your beer, and you take a quick drink before settling in against Thor’s side a bit more comfortably as he gives you a squeeze but continues to chat with Bruce.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #a wife for thor #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor xyou #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #thor odinson x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #a wife for thor pt12

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kingofkingdom-archive · 3 years

Text

Recovery [Ezra (Prospect) x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Hello all! This is my first Pedro Pascal work and the first to be posted here to this blog. If anyone has any requests, don’t hesitate to send them my way! As always, please read the tags/warnings, you are responsible for the media you choose to consume. Also posted to AO3 under the same username (kingofkingdom). I did not use “y/n” or anything similar in this story.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You were taken from your younger sister, Cee, ten years ago. When you answered a distress call from the Green, you didn’t expect to be reunited with her, and you certainly didn’t expect to meet a man like Ezra.

Warnings: mention of past violence/death, discussion of medical procedure, discussion of disability (amputation/loss of limb), family dynamics, abstract discussion of philosophy, small SW universe cameo :)

Tags: considerable amounts of fluff, size kink, daddy kink, hint of dd/lg, copious use of various pet names, p-in-v sex, some breast play/worship, some dom!ezra & sub!reader

Word count: 9552

You hadn't seen Cee since your mother died.

Her father had taken her and left you in the care of your aunt, a woman you didn't know, a woman who jumped at the chance to send you off to boarding school on the Ephrate the moment you were old enough. Most of your memories consisted of your host family there, with a younger "sister" who reminded you all too much of the one you had lost. In your mind, Cee was still a toddler, all wispy blonde hair and big blue eyes.

Cee's father had never liked you. You were the evidence of his wife's life before him, and you looked too much like your own deceased father for him to have any affection toward you. It didn't surprise you that he left you behind after your mother died, but at ten that didn't make it hurt any less.

Since then, ten years had passed. Now, your aunt was gone, and your studies on the Ephrate completed. You'd taken to a rather nomadic lifestyle, catching rides from planet to station to planet and picking up odd jobs here and there. It wasn't much, but you'd become a strong woman in your time on your own, and thoughts of your half-sister plagued you only some nights now.

Jobs you took ranged from helping the lone-wolf prospector on an excavation to ship repairs at major stations across the system. In one of your darker moments, you'd even carried out a hit against some low-level merc who'd pissed off the wrong people. Those people paid well, enough to fill your stomach for a few days and cover a ride far away from that moon. The right circles knew you could hold your own, and that's what mattered.

This particular station was on the outskirts of the system, a rough-and-tumble place frequented only by prospectors and the people that paid them. You'd taken a shift at the bar here a few weeks ago, and knew the locals pretty well. In a spot like this, people could often get more information at your humble establishment than they could from the officials. You were lying low, and you itched to get moving again, like the nomad you were.

Hence why you kept the radio channels on all the time during your shifts, quiet and unobtrusive where you stood at the bar.

You were thankful, looking back, that it had been a quiet afternoon, and that you'd been so vigilant in keeping track of job openings.

"This is Kilo-Romeo 12, calling from Green sector 608. In need of assistance pronto, rapid extraction A.S.A.P."

The voice is faint, but frantic - a masculine growl laced with an edge of panic. Your radio isn't the best, and you don't recognize the prospector's callsign, but you know he must be in deep shit. A call like this from the Green is a death sentence if someone doesn't act quickly.

As with most of your decisions, you act entirely on impulse. As you hit the button to close up the bar's doors, the radio is already in your hands.

"This is Juno B-390, responding to Kilo-Romeo 12. Do you copy?"

You're down the hall by now, rushing to your quarters to collect your meager belongings. Everything fits in a single pack, and you're just pulling your helmet onto your head when the radio crackles to life again.

"I copy, Juno B-390," the relief is evident in his voice, even through the static. "We need extraction and medical care."

Well, that wasn't in the initial signal. "We? How many are with you? And what kind of medical care are we talkin' here?"

"Just me and one other. Deep trauma to the abdomen, I'm afraid."

You swear under your breath. Nothing you can't handle, but this guy's timer's really running out. You grab the necessary supplies and dash to your small pod racer, which is just big enough with its three seats.

"Hang on, Kilo-Romeo. I'll be there as soon as I'm able. You'll need to direct me to your exact location, is that clear?"

There's a moment of silence before his voice echoes through your racer one last time.

"Clear."

You descend upon the Green as fast as the forces of physics and gravity allow you to. Sector 608, as it says on your map, is a stretch of deep woods and rolling terrain, nearly unexplored save for the last rush. You slow up as you approach, and call out to the prospector over the radio once again.

"Kilo-Romeo 12, this is Juno B-390. I am approaching your location. Do you copy?"

It's quiet. Much too quiet. You slow the racer even more, as your heart begins to race. Just as you begin to worry that you're too late, the radio awakens.

It's not the man, however, whose voice you hear.

"This is Ez-- I mean, this is Kilo-Romeo's... uh... companion. He's gotten worse."

It's a girl. A young teen, from the sound of it. Your heart clenches, thinking of how scared she must be out there.

"Okay, hey there. It's gonna be okay. Can you tell me what landmarks you see? Help me find you."

"Um, yeah. We're in a clearing, there's another ship right nearby. It's not operational, which is wh-- uh, yeah. Clearing, big ship. Also sort of a gulley nearby."

You're about to respond when she speaks again.

"Please, hurry."

"I will, kid. Just keep him alive."

It takes you longer than you would've liked to find this clearing, but once you do you see a scene that brings more questions than answers. Dead bodies litter the field and a half-blown excavation site sits in ruins. Discretion's always been a virtue of yours, though, so you file the information away in your brain and swiftly land your craft. As soon as you exit, you hear the girl's voice not too far away.

"Here! We're over here!"

You grab the field kit and run over to where she stands over a slumped figure. The man you'd spoken to is now unconscious, and not only does he have a nasty looking wound in his chest, he's missing an arm. You look up at the girl. Her brows are furrowed, eyes like steel. You like her already.

"Go to the racer and grab the stretcher that's behind the passenger seat. We'll have to move him onto that and carry him over."

She nods and runs off. Immediately, you turn to the man and take stock of his injuries. The arm has been gone for at least a little while, so that's not of immediate concern. You set to treating the chest wound, making sure to purge it and his suit of dust. Nasty stuff, that which floats around this planet. His filter is as good as gone, so you quickly connect your own.

You drain the wound with the juice the locals here produce, which is generally in stock in the station's field kits. It smells rank, but it works, and the man below you groans. Good, he's still vocal, at least. It doesn't sound like a lung's been punctured. You set up a highly temporary pocket over his wound and torn suit through which you can patch the injury. You take some foaming antiseptic and apply it to the wound before adhering a sticky bio-bandage over the top of it.

It'll do for now. He'll need further treatment at the station, but this should keep him alive, at least.

The girl returns with the stretcher then, and places it next to the man. You glance up at her, and see momentarily a young version of yourself. Eager to help. Eager to make things right.

You shake your head, collecting your thoughts. "Okay, so I'm going to tilt his body towards me, and you slide the stretcher as far as you can under him. Then we'll let him down on top of it and secure him for travel. Can you do that?"

She nods, and you give her a small smile. You hook one arm around the man's waist, the other supporting his neck and shoulder.

"On three, okay? One... two... three!"

Quickly, you roll him up onto his remaining arm as she slides the stretcher under him. As gently as possible, you let him back down, and just like that he's mostly on the stretcher. You set to arranging him properly and tying straps down.

The girl fidgets, and you look up to her.

"Do you know how to stow the back seat in a racer like that?" you ask, and she nods.

"Good, go do it."

She runs off, and is back by the time you've gotten the man secured to the stretcher.

"You take the handles at his feet and I'll take his head. We have to be careful not to tilt him too much, to keep the weight on the stretcher even. Did he suffer any head trauma?"

The girl shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."

You probably should have asked that before moving him onto the stretcher, but then again no one's ever known you for your excellence in trauma care. Your knowledge of first aid comes only from what you've picked up in the field, so sometimes the order of operations gets a bit jumbled.

Whatever. He'll be okay. You can't let yourself think otherwise.

The girl stoops to grab hold of the handles at his feet. You do the same at his head, and again you count backwards from three.

"Up!"

Together you stand, and twin groans echo from both of you. The girl huffs, clearly struggling a bit under the weight.

"Okay, let's go. Slowly, remember."

You walk backwards, feet taking cautious steps so as to keep the same pace as the young girl. Her face is screwed up in focus and concentration, hands in a vice grip on the handles.

"You're doing good, kid. Just a bit further."

Before you know it, you've reached the ship. Carefully, you set the stretcher in the racer, and then the two of you slide it in. There's just barely enough room for it. You quickly secure it, and then close the hatch.

The girl is looking at you, eyes wide and chest heaving. You reach out a gloved hand and set it on her shoulder, giving a firm squeeze.

"He'll be okay. I promise. Now go get in the passenger seat and I'll get us back up to the station."

She nods, and seems to relax a bit at that. You can't help but wonder what she's been through, out here in this rough, unforgiving environment. "Thank you."

You smile, and sincerely hope that this young girl finds a way to leave this life of prospecting behind. You don't know how she got here, but it's no place for someone so young. You know that all too well.

"Let's go, kid."

The trip was pretty quiet save for a single groan from the man in back. The girl glanced back to him when she heard that, and then looked at you, concerned.

"It's okay. He'll be in and out of consciousness until we get to the station. I'll pull up to the emergency med-bay so the doctors can start treating him properly right away."

You look over to her, and she nods.

"Does he have anyone they can contact? Any family?" you ask. "The doctors will need to know."

She shakes her head. "I'm not sure. I don't think so."

You sigh. "Okay. Well, we'll deal with that when we get there."

It's not long after that you arrive at the med-bay. It's a whirlwind of nurses and questions and forms, most of which you have to leave blank, since you don't know the guy and the girl seems not to know much more. She does, however, give you a name.

"His name's Ezra," she offers, when she sees you pause at the line on the top of the screen.

You look over at her. "Ezra? Spelled E-Z-R-A?"

She nods. "Never told me a last name though."

"That's alright. A first name's enough."

She sits next to you and helps where she can as you fill out the form. Once you're done, you go up to hand the tablet back to the receptionist. You then sit back down next to her, crossing your arms over your flight suit. The girl's fiddling with her fingers, bag tucked between her feet.

"Do you think we'll be able to see him when they're done?" she asks, clearly trying not to sound as worried as she is.

You shrug. "Probably. It might be a while, though. Do you want something to eat while we wait?"

She nods, and when you look over at her, she's smiling.

As it turns out, it does take a pretty long time for them to complete the operation. It feels like hours that you two are sitting there. You watch the people come and go from the waiting room while the girl writes in some notebook, headphones secure over her ears, absently eating a chocolate bar.

She can't be more than 13 or 14. You think back to when you were that age - in the middle of your time at the Ephrate, moody and angsty like all young teens. It makes you think of Cee. She'd be about that age by now. You look over to the girl sitting next to you, wondering what ever became of your sister. Maybe she's at the Ephrate by now, or perhaps her father has taken her to some peaceful planet with beaches and a nice home, a few pets running around.

Hopefully a better life than the one you've led. Somewhere far from thrower blasts and gemstones.

This girl seems nice enough, and you're sure she's seen her fair share of shit. It's clear this guy's not only not her father, but that they haven't known each other long at all. You can't help but wonder how they ended up traveling together.

Images of the clearing littered with bodies flashes in your mind. Something went down there, and it clearly got ugly fast. It's amazing that the girl emerged relatively unscathed. You've seen a fair share of shootouts and fights, and never did you escape completely uninjured. It takes cleverness and a strong sense of self-preservation, the latter of which you don't often have.

You're ruminating on the mystery sitting next to you when the doors to the operating rooms swing open. A nurse steps out and looks at both of you. You stand, and she follows suit.

"He's awake, and asking for you," the nurse says. You nudge the girl slightly with your elbow.

"Go on, go see hi--"

The nurse cuts in. "He's asking for both of you."

Oh. You're surprised. He doesn't even know you, so there's no reason he should be asking to see you. Despite your confusion, you follow behind the girl as she follows the nurse to his room.

The hallways are sterile and white, cleaner than anything you've seen in months. The doorway is the last on the right, and inside is a single bed, with a small window looking out to the stars.

The young girl enters first as the nurse stands to the side, and you hover in the doorway to watch, still not quite feeling entirely welcome. You can just see the man's - Ezra's - hair behind the girl, with an unusual shock of blonde in otherwise dark brown curls.

"I was wondering where you went, birdie. One minute I was on the ground and next thing I know I'm sitting here like a babe in a bassinet, right as rain," he says, voice melodic with an accent you can't quite place.

"Do you feel better, Ezra?" the girl asks, voice wavering just slightly.

"I do. Are you faring alright yourself?"

She nods, and crosses her arms. Silence fills the room for a moment, then Ezra speaks again.

"Who was so kind as to bring us here, birdie?" he asks. The girl turns to you and steps aside so Ezra can see you.

"She did," she replies, a soft look on her face.

You step forward and look at Ezra properly for the first time. You hadn't really paid much attention to his facial features back on the Green, so concerned as you were with getting him out of there.

His dark brown eyes are kind, and his lips tease at a smile. He's got stubble growing on his chin and a mustache on his lip. There's a thin white line in the shape of a crescent underneath his left eye, the silvery remnant of a deep cut sustained long ago. He's older than you, maybe 40 or so. For some reason, you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach, but you're quick to snuff those out best you can. Mirroring the girl, you cross your arms, and flip your braid over your shoulder.

"Yeah, that would be me," you say, as nonchalantly as you can manage.

"I recognize that voice from the radio," he notes, looking at you intently. "I can't hardly give you enough thanks for getting the two of us out of that... sticky situation. You really are somethin' else, sugar."

You shrug, unused to such praise, such immediate kindness. You feel your face heat up with a blush, and you clear your throat.

"Well, it sure sounded like you were in need of some help. I'm happy to see you're doing better."

Your voice is softer than you intend. Spending even three minutes with this guy seems to have thrown you off balance. You haven't met anyone that talks like him since you were in school, and it's like a breath of fresh air.

His face turns serious at your words. Ezra's gaze is as intense as it is gentle, burning into your own.

"Oh, much better," he assures you, giving you a look you can't quite decipher. A smile quickly returns to his features. "It's a shame they couldn't get my arm to grow back."

You laugh a little at that, happy to see that he's in good spirits. The nurse steps forward then, tablet in hand. The three of you turn to her.

"Ezra will likely be discharged tomorrow morning, given how much progress he's made just today. He will need somewhere to rest, however, for the next week or so. We can help to make boarding arrangeme--"

"No," you interrupt, surprising even yourself. "No, he can stay with me. I have quarters in the 4th wing." You turn to the girl. "You can stay with me too, if you'd like." You don't know what's come over yourself, but you find yourself drawn to this unlikely pair.

The girl nods once, just as Ezra speaks up. "You're too kind, sugar. Your hospitality and generosity are appreciated beyond measure. Do let us know if there's any way at all we can show our gratitude."

You shake your head immediately, waving a hand as if to wave away the notion.

"No need for that. Consider it a celebratory gift for parting with the Green."

Everyone laughs at that - even the nurse, who hides her grin behind her tablet.

The next morning, you and the girl - whose name you still don't know, and who still does not know yours - visit the med-bay first thing after breakfast. Your quarters are small, enough to fit two comfortably and three at most. The girl has decided to take the sofa, since Ezra will need to rest, and a bed is most ideal for that. It seems you both tend to rise early, so you gave her some oatmeal and a cup of coffee. She took both without hesitation, and it warmed your heart to see her eat after however long she and Ezra had been out there.

When you two arrive, Ezra is waiting in his room, dressed in clean loungewear with a bag on his lap. He is seated in a wheelchair. You and the girl greet him, happy to see that he is rested and ready to leave.

"I told the kind folks that I am more than able to walk unaided," he comments when you begin to push the chair from behind. "They insisted, however, and I am not one to ignore the advice and orders of my physicians."

You see the girl try to hide a smile. It seems as though he's grown on her, and she struggles to admit that to herself. Before you can think better of it, you give Ezra a pat on the right shoulder, a small attempt at reassurance.

"You'll be walking in no time, I'm sure," you reply.

You feel his left hand cover your own, and you nearly stumble as you push him along through the hallway. His palm is rough and callused, a signature trait of most prospectors. It's large, too, covering your own entirely. Its warmth soaks through the back of your hand and into your stomach.

"With kindness as bright as yours to guide me, that will certainly be the case."

You don't know what to say to that, so you give his shoulder a squeeze and retract your hand.

The 4th wing is not too far from the med-bay; the station itself is smaller than most, so the distance is blessedly short. Ezra does most of the talking while the three of you walk.

"It would suit me just perfectly to never see that god-forsaken moon again so long as I live," he comments just as you reach the door to your quarters. You scan your ID card and the panel slides open, revealing a small but comfortable dwelling. "Forget the gems, forget the money. Prospecting is surely the most foolish endeavor of them all."

"The lust for wealth is stronger than the fear of death," you reply, almost without thinking.

Ezra looks up at you, smiling, a curious look on his face. "Asmolea. Ruminations, chapter seven. Color me impressed, sugar."

You look back, equally surprised. "You recognize that quote?"

"Why, yes, in fact, I do," he responds, and you notice the girl watching the two of you out of the corner of your eye. "I was an admirer of the great thinkers, long ago. When I was younger, and more -- well, more curious about such things, I suppose."

You wheel him into the small sitting area, arranged around a holo-screen. The walls are bare, lack of personality belying a short-lived residence here. You engage the wheelchair's brakes and take a seat yourself, across from him on an armchair. The girl sits on the sofa, where she slept last night.

"Philosophy is the sustenance of the mind," he continues, kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. He winces slightly at the motion, but keeps speaking nevertheless. "Without it, we decay. We risk succumbing to trivial errors of man. It is the sharpening stone to the blade of our intellect."

"What about literature?" the girl asks, her eyes firey and brow set. "I think that's much more valuable than what some ancient guy thought about a world we don't even know anymore."

You smile, pleased at this contribution. "I think great literature can convey philosophical ideas in the form of a modern narrative. You just have to keep an eye out for it, and understand its relevance to the story."

Ezra nods along. "I agree. Where did you read Asmolea, sugar?"

"At the Ephrate," you reply, and you see the girl perk up. You smile at her, hoping the two of you will have a chance to discuss that later. She seems entirely intrigued by you now. "I studied there for seven years, until I was eighteen."

"Why did you leave?" the girl asks.

You sigh, and bring your foot up to rest on the chair, so your thigh is pressed against your front. "Life there didn't suit me. I'm much happier on my own, not surrounded by stuffy academics and pretentious businessmen. The only ones I could stand there were the monks."

Ezra laughs at that. "The Neo-Carthusians?"

You nod, grinning. "Yeah. Considered joining, for about a month or so. I admire their lives of solitude and contemplation, but I couldn't imagine staying in one place for so long."

The conversation flows between the three of you so naturally you hardly notice the time flying by. They ask questions about you, and you return the favor by inquiring about their lives. The girl is quiet when it comes to her past, but you find out her father died on the Green. Both she and Ezra are hesitant to talk about it, which tells you all that you need to know.

Night falls quickly, or at least night according to standard time - on the station, there is no night or day, just a constant darkness visible out the windows interrupted by pinpricks of light. Everyone follows the standard clock, which runs according to time on the Ephrate.

You show Ezra to his room after the three of you have eaten dinner. It's a small space, just enough for a bed and a dresser. Carefully, he stands from the wheelchair, tosses his bag on the bed, and turns to look at you.

He's much taller than you are. The butterflies return as you look up at him, and a warm feeling radiates through the area below your stomach.

"Thank you again for the hospitality, sugar," he murmurs, voice low and deep. He moves the wheelchair out from between you, so there's nothing but air separating the two of you. "As I said, don't hesitate to ask if there is anything I can do to repay you. Anything at all."

You nod, at a loss for words. His hand comes up and gently brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear. You positively melt. This man is going to be the death of you.

"I'm just glad to see you safe, Ezra," you reply, and your eyes flutter at the way his fingers linger over the apple of your cheek. His lips look so soft, his eyes full of promises he intends to keep. You can feel yourself falling, as if in a dream.

You blink and lean back, away from him. This is a bad idea. For what reason, you can't say, but you dart to your room as soon as you begin to doubt yourself.

You shut the door and lean against it. There's no way, your mind whispers to you. He feels indebted. That's the only reason. You're too young, he just sees you as a kid.

In your haste, you didn't see the look in his eyes as you left so suddenly, or the way he stared at the door long after you shut it.

In the night, you dream of him. Dark eyes above you, heavenly, filthy moans filling the air around you, something thick and perfect filling the empty space inside you. His musical voice murmurs sweet words in your ear, and you hear the sound of your passion just as much as you feel it. Your hands grip his hair as he thrusts, your body trembling underneath him.

Your peak startles you awake, and you find your bedsheets soaked with the evidence of your fantasy.

Your bedside clock tells you it is the early hours of the morning. With a sigh, you toss back the blankets and emerge from your room quietly.

After a quick shower in the refresher, you step out and wrap a towel around yourself. You stare into the mirror, thinking about him.

You've never felt such an instant attraction to anyone before in your life. Sure, his looks contribute quite a bit, but it's much more than that. You and he seem to have a similar intellect, his passion and aptitude for prose matching your own knowledge and understanding of philosophy and the humanities. The girl is also equally respected by him as she is by you, and you both share a common want to see her thrive. You've known them both barely a day and a half, but they already feel more like family than anyone you've ever known.

You wonder if you're imagining his affections toward you. That could just be him, his way of communicating. You desperately hope it's more than that, but you also can't get your hopes up because of a silly dream.

A silly, beautiful dream.

Water drips from your hair, down your chest, and into the towel. As you begin to shiver, you decide to return to bed and try again for some uninterrupted sleep. You'll have to change the sheets, unfortunately, but that shouldn't take more than a few minutes.

You open the door and tiptoe back out into the hallway, quiet as a mouse. Just as you're about to sneak back into your room, towel clutched tightly in your fingers, you're startled by the door opposite your own sliding open.

And there he is. Dressed in little more than a pair of grey shorts, hair tousled and eyes weary with sleep.

He blinks a few times, and then his eyes widen, suddenly much more awake. You see him glance down, and his mouth parts ever so slightly before his gaze returns to your face.

You are frozen in place. Somewhere in your mind, you will your feet to dart away again, but the remnants of your dream still echo in your muscles, preventing you from leaving. Your hands tighten on your towel and despite yourself, you make note of his chest, his abdomen - the wound, which is an angry red line, held together with clear stitching, and which makes your heart clench at the thought of what would've happened had you not arrived - and finally, a rapid glance at his shorts, his thighs, before you find your sense and look back up at his face.

There's that intensity again, with considerably less gentleness. You inhale sharply, and spare a glance towards the sitting area, where the girl sleeps.

"She's quite the light sleeper, I'm afraid. I'd be mightily surprised if she didn't already hear --"

His voice is low, nearly inaudible to your ears as you look back at him. The tone of it causes the insides of your thighs to tremble, and your chest to heave with silent breaths. Ezra cuts himself off, clearly not having meant to say as much as he did.

Maybe it's the early hour that makes the words escape your lips with ease. Maybe it's the dream, the visions of which you can still see in your mind's eye as you look at him. Perhaps there's just something about Ezra that makes you bold, standing there with nothing more than thin terrycloth protecting your modesty.

"Hear what, Ezra?" you whisper, and set your jaw when his eyes widen ever so slightly.

Ezra reaches out, and his hand comes up to grip the back of your neck. His thumb strokes your jawline, behind your ear, and he steps forward. He's so close that you can feel the heat from his body on your own.

His lips press softly against your forehead, a surprisingly intimate gesture that makes you shiver. The hand that isn't clutching your towel moves to rest on his waist, golden skin warm under your cold fingers.

"Hear this, sweet thing," he murmurs against your skin, lips still pressed against you. "How strongly I feel for you. How deeply I know that it was divine providence that brought you to me. The ways I want to repay you for saving my life.”

His words are like molten gold, shimmering and hot as they slip over your skin and into your heart. You shiver, and your fingers curl gently into his side.

”I don’t - I don’t want you to feel obligated to... to do anything. With me. For me,” you whisper back, eyes closed, basking in the feeling of this quiet moment.

Ezra hums in dissent against your worries. “No... no...” he says, as his fingers slowly thread their way into your hair. “It isn't like that —“

He’s interrupted by a shuffling sound from the sitting room. You both freeze, wide-eyed, and look toward the room where the girl sleeps.

A moment passes, and then two. Enough that you know she is still asleep and there isn’t any risk of her finding you two like this.

It‘s like ice water thrown over you, the reminder of where and who you are. You look back up to Ezra, whose eyes are soft and knowing as they stare at you. His hand gently caresses the back of your neck, and then he brings it back to rest at his side.

"Go to bed, sweetheart," he murmurs, and then steps around you. He enters the refresher without another word.

You do as he says, but you find yourself struggling to fall back asleep once you return to clean, cool sheets. You watch the stars inch past outside your window as your mind races at the memory of his lips.

The next morning, you wake to sounds of movement coming from outside your door. For a moment you panic, before you remember your two visitors. And then you remember your encounter with one of those visitors last night, and the hushed words exchanged between you and him.

Beside you, the clock reads barely past 06:00, which is usually the time you wake up anyway. Today you have another shift at the bar, assuming you still have a job there after you ditched it the other day. With a groan, you pull yourself out from under the warm, soft covers and dress yourself.

The noise becomes more decipherable as you make your way down the hallway. Ezra and the girl are making small talk while something sizzles. You turn the corner and see Ezra standing at the stove with the girl sitting at the counter, the pleasing aromatic smell of pork bacon wafting through the air. You lean against the wall and watch the pair with a small smile, happy to see someone making use of a space normally reserved for microwave rations and alcohol snuck from the bar.

No one's ever accused you of being a particularly good bartender, that's for sure.

Ezra turns to look at you when he hears your footsteps, a bright smile lighting up his face.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he teases, and pushes the bacon around with a spatula. "I cannot emphasize enough how divine it was to wake up with a soft cushion beneath me rather than dirt. I could much too easily let myself get used to this, and I think Cee here agrees with me on that account. Don't you, birdie?"

The girl nods, but you don't notice it. The color has drained from your face and you feel a frantic, sinking feeling in your chest.

"What did you say?" you ask, pushing yourself off the wall and looking at Ezra with wide eyes.

He looks back, brow furrowed, confused. "I believe I said that I could get used to this...?"

You turn away from him and look at the girl. She's looking at you too, now, concern evident in her eyes.

"What did he say your name is?"

She blinks. "My name's Cee."

Your hand flies up to your mouth, and you feel tears gather at the corners of your eyes. It can't be. But she's the right age, and her hair's the same, and...

"What was your father's name?"

She looks even more confused now. "Um, it was Damon."

Oh my god. "Oh my god. You're Cee."

The two of them stare at you like you've grown a second head. You laugh, realizing how foolish you look.

And then you give her your name.

Cee's eyes light up like nothing you've ever seen before, and she nearly launches herself off of the counter stool to wrap you in the tightest hug you've ever been given. You laugh again, a loud and boisterous thing, as happy tears spring unbidden and flow onto your cheeks. Her hands grip the back of your shirt as you hold her head to your chest with both hands.

"I never thought I'd see you again," you mutter through the tears, pressing your nose against her hair. It's her. It's really her. Suddenly you think Ezra was right about divine providence, that the three of you were meant to find each other, the event arranged by some mighty cosmic force.

"Dad told me you were dead," she cries, as the two of you collapse to the floor. Propriety suddenly no longer concerns you, not now that you're cradling your long-lost little sister.

"I'm so sorry, Cee. I'm so sorry."

You can't say much more than that. There are simultaneously too many and not enough things to say to the last family you have left in the universe, to this girl who was so much like you even in the first moments of knowing one another.

Above you, Ezra clears his throat.

"While this is clearly an unexpected but happy reunion that I hate to interrupt, I do have to ask how you girls know one another, so that I might not be kept in the dark about your relation?"

You look up at him as you move backwards to rest your shoulders against the wall. His dark eyes look down at you from above, and though you've never felt so small, you've also never felt happier in your life.

"She's my sister," you answer with a smile. "Same mother, different father. We were separated when our mother died. She was hardly more than a baby."

Ezra's eyes grow soft at that, and he nods. You begin to think that maybe now you both have something to thank the other for. You may have saved his life, but his radio transmission brought you Cee.

You tighten your arms around her, and place a kiss on the crown of her head. You aren't sure how long you sit there - long enough to have surely lost your job when you don't show up for your shift, but you can't find it within yourself to care. This is all that matters to you right now.

The day passes with you and Cee doing most of the talking, for once. Ezra seems content to just sit and listen, though you catch him a few times looking at you like he did in the darkened hallway last night.

After lunch, he makes a point to sit next to you on the couch, arm draped across the cushions behind you.

If Cee notices, she doesn't say anything. You still aren't sure where your relationship with Ezra stands, but in the midst of sharing stories with Cee and learning about her life, you don't find time to sort that out.

Dinner comes and goes again, and the topic of the future comes up.

"When do you think you'll be healed enough to travel again, Ezra?" you ask, as the three of you work on cleaning the dishes.

He shrugs. "I'm fit to travel right now," he answers, and you give him a look. No, he isn't. He chuckles. "Alright, sugar. Maybe another day or so. The serum they gave me to apply daily has been working wonders, I must admit."

You nod, and look over at Cee. "Where do you want to go? The Ephrate? I have no doubt you could get into the school there."

She perks up at that. "You think so? Would you bring me?"

"Why not? I'm a traveler anyway, and I think it's high time I got out of this station. Ezra?" You look over to him, but he's already looking at you.

You feel his hand ghost over the small of your back. "I would be most honored to accompany you both to the Ephrate, if you'll have me."

"Yes, of course," you reply, leaning into his touch, and you turn back to the task at hand.

Later on, when Cee is in bed listening to her music, and Ezra's in his room, you sit on your bed thinking about what's to come. In order to apply to the school, Cee will need a guardian contact, and a record of education. You hope she can pass the entrance exam and submit a writing sample, and that that will be enough. Maybe you can talk some of your former professors into considering her.

It’s a pretty long trip from the station to the Ephrate, even with a ship that can travel at hyper speed. You can’t help but wonder what will become of Ezra after you get Cee set up in school.

The man captivates you, to put it plainly. His poetic manner of speaking and the gentle fire of his passion, when directed at you, gives you a feeling unlike any other you’ve experienced before. You’ve met plenty of men in your life. None have ever made you feel such a way.

Before you can think better of it, while the desire to see his sleep-ruffled hair still sits at the forefront of your mind, you get out of bed and leave your room. Quietly, so as to not disturb Cee, you knock on his door.

”Come in!” he calls out from somewhere within.

You slide the door open, slip inside, and close the door behind you. Ezra is sitting up in bed, looking at you.

”To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing such a beautiful woman enter my chamber in the night?” The question is teasing, good-natured, but the compliment still makes your stomach swoop.

You smile, and walk to where he lies in bed, leaning against the dresses. “I wanted to thank you, Ezra. You brought my sister back to me, which is something I’ll never be able to repay you for. Can we call it even?”

He laughs at that. “Sure we can, sweet thing. You know, when I first saw you in that recovery room, I thought I recognized you from somewhere, and that my brain had done me the disservice of erasing all memory of you. I now realize it was because you and Cee are so much alike. I haven’t known her for much longer than I’ve known you, and it remains a miracle that she has given me even a modicum of trust, but I see the relation between you clear as a bell now.”

You have to smile at that. It warms your heart to know you didn’t imagine it, that someone else noticed it too.

Ezra reaches out then, in the dim light, and you step forward. Thinking he's reaching for your hand, you extend yours - but he bypasses it completely and wraps his hand around the back of your upper thigh, thumb brushing against your sleep shorts. A giggle escapes your lips as he pulls you in even closer to him. Ezra leans forward and presses his face against your midsection, nose just next to your belly button.

Confused, but certainly pleasantly surprised, you place your hands on his head and thread your fingers through his dark curls. Gently you massage his scalp, not quite understanding this sudden show of affection. It's different than last night, though you can't exactly express how.

You decide you're really enjoying seeing these different sides of Ezra when the two of you are alone.

When you happen to massage a certain spot right behind his ear, Ezra groans, a low sound that ripples through your bones. His grip tightens, and you feel his next words more than you hear them.

"Come here, little one," he murmurs into your stomach, nosing at the hem of your shirt. The pet name makes you clench, desire flooding through your center.

He pulls you closer, shifting his face away so he can guide you down onto the bed. You swing one leg over his waist just as he slides his hand up to grip your ass, turning you further so you're on your back next to him. He's on his side, propped up by his elbow, leaning over you.

You're breathless, staring up into those infinite brown eyes.

"You have consumed my every waking thought since the moment I first saw you" he says softly, his voice a low purr that awakens some unknown part of yourself. You turn into him, resting a hand on his side, and he presses his nose against your cheek.

"I must have been a saint in a previous life to have earned this sweet embrace," he continues, breath warm against your face. "I want to learn you, to study you with the same vigor the ancients studied and examined the mind. I want to know you, sweet girl, in every way possible.

"But I must be truthful with you, because I could no longer live with myself if I were not. I am not a good man. I have lived a long life of violence and amorality, and death and deceit seem to follow me hand-in-hand. You are so young, little one, full of life and vitality, future bright ahead of you. I do not deserve you, and you certainly deserve better than me."

His words are like needles piercing your heart. You slide your hand up his chest to cup his face, tenderly stroking his cheekbone. You draw him away ever so slightly so you can look him in the eye.

"You and I are not so different, Ezra," you hum, making sure that he keeps the eye contact. "I have been on that same path, of death and violence, for years. I've lived for none but myself."

You slide your thumb across his lower lip, soft and pink and tempting.

"Let me live for you."

You punctuate your whispered plea by drawing him back down and pressing your lips to his. He gasps into the kiss before returning it with passion amplified twofold. His leg slides over your midsection to stabilize himself, knees pushing in between your own so your thighs stretch open around his.

Ezra deepens the kiss almost immediately. You surrender to his lips, one hand gripping his shoulder while the other tangles again in his hair. His mouth is hot, tasting faintly of mint but mostly a sweet flavor you attribute only to him. You let out a soft moan at the feeling building in your cunt, wet and warm and yearning for him, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Ezra licks at your teeth, seemingly in an attempt to map out every part of you that he can.

All you're able to do is moan, melting into him like a candle to a flame.

You feel Ezra shift a little, followed by profanity muttered softly against your lips. He draws away, and you open your eyes to see him clenching his jaw.

"'M still not fully adjusted to not having a kriffing arm," he grumbles, frustration evident in his eyes. You hum, hurting for him, wanting to take his pain away.

"What do you need, Ezra?" you ask. "What can I do?"

He presses his forehead against yours and sighs. "I want to see you, sweet thing. I want to touch you."

You flush, understanding the meaning of his words and feeling your panties grow wetter at the implication.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes." You push at his shoulders, urging him to sit back. He does so, sitting back. You rearrange your legs so that yours rest outside of his, and sit up. Your thighs are tucked against his hips in a position that feels much closer than before - you can just barely feel the heat of his groin against your own. A breath stumbles its way out of your lungs, chest heaving.

Before you can think any further on your insecurities, you grasp the hem of your shirt and draw it up and over your head. Ezra's eyes light up, glance at your face, darken considerably as he looks down again, and then he's on you once more.

His arm wraps around you tightly, hand pressing firmly into your ribs, and it's then that you really take in the size difference between you and him. As his head dips to press his lips against your breasts and nipples, you can't help but shudder at the way his body curls over your own. You feel distinctly small, in a way that would usually frighten you but instead makes you shiver.

This position is clearly more comfortable for Ezra, because he becomes more vocal as he lavishes your tits with attention.

"Gods, little one," he murmurs against the top of one of your breasts, tongue darting out to taste your peaked bud, "your body is divine, the sweetest fruit in the universe." He pauses to suck at your nipple, drawing it into his mouth, and the sight of it forces a whine from your throat. Something about it is so perfect, so perverse, for a man who's always been so sweet, that you can't help but press your clothed cunt down on his cock, the shape of which you can feel burning and hard like an iron through your clothes.

Ezra lets out a choked growl at that, a deep rumbling sound that you immediately commit to memory, in case of the unfortunate event that you're not blessed to ever hear it again. He releases your teat, now spit-soaked and throbbing, and looks at you with eyes so dark you hardly recognize them. His brows are drawn together, teeth bared like a feral animal.

"That's what you do to me," he growls, moving his hand down to cup your ass, squeezing harshly. You gasp, and press into him, bare chest to bare chest. "Feel my dick against your little pussy, baby? Think it can fit?"

You nod frantically, knowing your shorts are soaked through, as his filthy words send your mind reeling. You're not capable of thoughts beyond him and this any longer.

Ezra uses his grip on your ass to press your cunt against him once more, and he rolls his hips up into you in a mimicry of what he'd like to do you. You moan, completely unashamed, and drop your head to tuck your face against his shoulder.

"Please," you whine, nearly unaware of the words coming out of your mouth. It's quiet, hushed, this next utterance, and it's passed through your lips before you can think twice about it.

"Please fuck me, daddy."

Ezra freezes. It takes you a moment too long to realize what you've said.

"What did you say?" Ezra asks, the words rumbling from somewhere in his chest.

You get a frantic feeling in your limbs, panic crawling up your throat. Great, you think, I've messed it all up. He probably thinks I'm some freak, screwed up in the head.

You're broken from your spiraling thoughts by the feeling of his lips on your neck, teeth digging into the space beneath your jawline.

"I asked you a question, sweet girl."

You tremble in his grasp. He's not going to let it go. "Daddy..." you whimper, and he groans.

"You really are a perfect little girl for me," he mutters as his hand slides around from your ass to the front of your shorts. You tighten your grip on the back of his neck and lean forward, thinking he intends to pull your remaining clothes down your legs.

Instead, he clenches his fist and tears them, both your shorts and your panties, from your pussy. You yelp as he does so, and watch as the fabric goes flying somewhere off to the side.

"There you are, sweet thing," he murmurs, leaning back to look at you, hand back in position on your bare ass. "Look at you. Filthy and perfect for daddy, aren't you? A fantasy come to life, placed in my lap by the gods themselves."

You moan once more, pressing your bare cunt against the outline of his cock in his thin sleep pants. He reaches down to pull it free, and as you keep your balance against him, you look down and see perhaps the biggest dick you've ever laid eyes on. Ezra chuckles, watching your reaction.

"You ready, baby? Want me to fill you up, fuck you like you need?"

You nod, and lean in to press your face against the crook of his neck again. "Please," you whine. "I need your big cock in my pussy."

The words are completely unlike you - something about Ezra has awoken a completely submissive, unfiltered side of yourself you didn't know existed before. Sure, you knew you wanted him, and weren't a stranger to sex, but this is an entirely new personality, focused entirely on being his. It's almost like a dream, and for a moment you feel as though you're floating, with how relaxed you are in anticipation for --

Oh.

He's guided the head of his cock to your entrance, and is using his leverage on your ass to guide you slowly, slowly down. You gasp - he's certainly the biggest you've ever had, and the stretch is delicious. Ezra's restraining himself, going slow so he doesn't hurt you, but you have no such qualms.

You drop down in one fell swoop, and the way he fills you makes your eyes roll back in your head. His hand moves from your ass to around your waist, nearly encircling it entirely. He groans, loudly and deeply.

"You'll kill me like this, little one. You're just wrapped around my cock, aren't you? Desperate for it?"

You nod frantically. "Yes, daddy. Yes!"

Ezra moans at that. His hand grips your waist, teeth biting and sucking at your neck, as you push up on your thighs to lift off of him. The drag of his dick against the walls of your cunt is incredible, the head of it catching and pushing on hidden, sensitive ridges within you.

You drop down again, and begin to fuck yourself on Ezra's cock.

His hips piston up as you do so, finding and matching your rhythm with ease. His melodic voice mutters the dirtiest things you've ever heard as he slams his hips up into you.

"...That's it, sweet thing. You were made to fit on my cock, weren't you?..."

"...Wanted to do this that night in the hallway, take you right up against the wall..."

"...My strong, sweet girl, bouncing like a whore on daddy’s cock -- gods, look at your tits..."

You feel your climax building, rising like a fire about to consume you from the inside out. Ezra is close, too, from the way his hips stutter and his breathing becomes ragged.

"Sweet thing..." he groans, slowing his thrusts. "I can't... inside you..."

You shake your head. You know he's clean, since he was tested at the med-bay when he went in for the operation. And besides...

"I've got the implant, daddy. Come in me, please."

Ezra finishes with the most beautiful moan you've ever heard, and you come nearly at the same moment. It's an ethereal, heavenly experience, like the two of you have ascended and joined the gods who so graciously brought you together.

You fall asleep tucked into his chest, warm under his blanket, with the smell of him and you and both of you lulling you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in your life.

A month later, you and Ezra and Cee sit at a mahogany wood table, filling out a holo-tablet with the form for Cee's entrance into your alma mater on the Ephrate. Your sister is already taken with the place, and you couldn't be happier for her.

"Now it wants me to put in a parent or guardian's name," she says, stylus hovering over that section. The cursor blinks as it waits.

You're about to tell her to skip it, but Ezra speaks up before you can.

"Put my name down," he offers, and she looks over at him. "Is that okay with you?"

Cee nods, a genuine smile brightening her features. She turns back to the screen with haste.

"Ezra Stallard," he adds simply.

You look over to him, pleased with this revelation.

As you watch Cee enter Ezra's full name into the blank and select Guardian, you get a chill up your spine. Despite yourself, you think back to that night, and you know Ezra's thinking the same when his hand moves over to rest on your thigh.

You can't wait to have your ship to yourselves; the joy of seeing your sister thrive in a new setting is followed only by the anticipation of what is to come. You and Ezra have made no plans for the future yet - all you know is that he will be with you, and that's the only guarantee you need.

For the first time in a very long time, your heart sings.

#ezra x you #ezra (prospect)#ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x female reader #prospect #prospect fanfiction #prospect (2018)#ezra x reader smut #pedrp pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #ezra fic #ezra prospect x reader #canon compliant #wrote this while listening exclusively to grimes #take that as you will

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cruzrogue · 3 years

Text

Arrow's Horizon

This is a fic that has risen due to a fic idea posted on this A03 site. Oliver becomes a dad to William, is a husband, still gets shipwrecked, leaving behind a wife.

Chapter 1 Home base - Oliver finds out he is a dad. Fears losing Felicity

In this story, Felicity is only 2 years younger than Oliver. The chapters are roughly 4 pages each (using word)

This is a completed story. The next chapter will be published in 3-4 days and the others will be on some set time table.

Chapter 1 Home Base

Felicity finds Oliver exactly where his mother said he’d be. His favorite thinking spot. Located at the outskirts of his family’s estate. Sitting on a tree stump overlooking a stream that is generously full due to the recent rainstorm. She knows he can hear her make her way towards him. He doesn’t skip a beat as he continues pitching rocks upon the body of water as the silence between them endures.

Finding a log nearby. She waits to be acknowledged.

Coming to Starling City for a few days during a weeklong school break. Oliver had her come here to meet his family. Now that they are more than just friends. Their next stop is Las Vegas to officially meet her mom. Everything is moving nicely she thinks. She really, really likes him.

Felicity doesn’t glance at Oliver as he is still throwing the stones into the flowing stream. Keeping her attention on the skips the pebble makes against the water.

Oliver had a visitor yesterday. Since then, he’s made some elaborate excuses to be alone. Giving her forced smiles. Leaving her to go to bed wondering if they were alright. Since walking onto a meeting between Oliver and some girl she has never met before. His whole demeanor is of someone who now has the whole world on his shoulders.

They both are known to need time to process whatever ails them alone. It never boarders on more than a day. Felicity isn’t pushy in that department but being that she is here in Starling. Away from her comfort zone. She feels that Oliver needs to understand that and maybe open up to her sooner rather than later.

Oliver in a low raspy whisper finally speaks, “I’m sorry.”

Felicity now able to see him clearly notices the red eyes. She has never in their time of acquaintance seen him cry. He is usually so upbeat.

“Oliver?” She wants to add something else, but the words don’t flow out fast enough as her boyfriend falls to his knees before her. It isn’t a romantic scene where one would see in a movie. No. This moment is in some ridiculous romantic flick where it looks to be the end for the couple. His name makes it out of her lips before he finally sheds some light on what is tormenting him.

“It was before you and I became a couple. I need you to know that.” She doesn’t know what he is trying to say. The confusion must show on her face as he clarifies, “You know that time I went out with the guys because I finally ended it with Laurel?”

She nods. Felicity was the creator of his moodboard for almost a month of listening to Oliver count the pros and cons of his relationship with his high school sweetheart. So many images, pieces of text hung on a board to help him visualize his desires. Going to college has opened his views on what he wants in life. If truth be told. Meeting Felicity has curbed a good faction of his partying ways.

“I was finally free.”

Not knowing where he is going with all this, “Okay.”

“I messed up.” He swiftly gets up and begins to walk away which has Felicity almost ready to bolt after him. When he stops and walks closer to her. She can breathe slightly easier as it looks that his intent is to pace back and forth as he continues his story.

When he finally gets to the part of his dilemma that has her gasp in shock. He knows he is about to lose the girl that owns his heart. He is scared shitless. Even so, he owes her the truth.

Oliver’s been out here alone thinking of how his life is going to dramatically change. Scared of losing Felicity Smoak to a mistake that he’s been regarding for the last few hours with a heavy heart.

Finding out Samantha Clayton is pregnant with his child. Coming to him knowing she is going to keep his baby. Everything changed in a blink of an eye. He is going to be a father.

Oliver finally stops pacing to face the music. He tells her everything.

In an unsteady breath knowing that whatever answer Oliver has could change everything, “What does this girl require of you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does she require you to try and playhouse with her? Is it financial?”

“We didn’t discuss anything in detail. Just…”

“That she is pregnant with your baby.” He nods.

“Felicity, I know this shifts how you’ll feel…” Her hand goes up to indicate for him to stop. He still adds, “I am so very sorry.”

She knows he is. In her heart she knows Oliver would never do anything to inflict pain on her. They got to know each other since meeting in a library. His inability to guide himself around a library's catalogue made her have pity on him. Turning her into the friendly guide that opened his world to library books. Nothing like the beginning of a friendship while teaching him how to identify and use a call number to find a specific book.

His sincerity pulls on her heart strings. Like him, she’ll need some alone time.

It doesn’t change the fact of how she feels. She is truly, madly, deeply in love with Oliver Jonas Queen. If bringing her here to meet his parents is any indication. His I adore you, you’re remarkable, and his soft voice that he uses when they’re just being them. He is also over-the-moon with her.

“Oliver.” His reaction is to look away, so she places her hands upon his face. Making sure she can glance into those saddened eyes, “I’ll need to figure my place in all this. That is if you’ll still want me in your life.”

He is up from his kneeling position, “Of course, I want you. I just don’t deserve you.”

Jumping to her feet. She isn’t letting him go.

“Hogwash!” For a brief second. There is a levity in his eyes, “Forget I just said that. You know what I mean. I am not walking away from you. Not saying all this won’t be tough.”

“Its nothing like the Cooper situation. A baby is a lifelong commitment.”

“Well, if you weren’t there to pull me back. I could have been a lifelong inmate in Guantanamo Bay or some fancy cyber jail.”

He cracks a smile, “I don’t think they send blondes there.”

“I’m actually…” He can’t help but sweep her off her feet. Their lips connecting. Felicity being in his arms brings optimism that wasn’t there when he came out here to agonize over some life choices. She brings balance and with her here. He can hope.

He almost blurs out how much he loves her. Glad to have caught himself from that blunder. Saying it now could confuse Felicity. She might think it’s not sincere. When he says it. It’s got to be at the right time where the woman he loves understands his words are true.

Felicity eyeing the small gathering of pebbles Oliver piled up beside the tree stump.

“Why don’t you go back home. Your parents are worried.”

“I don’t know what to tell them.”

With a hand on his arm, she tells him to be honest. Nodding to Felicity’s words a small moment of silence stretches between them.

“Okay then. I’m going to sit here for a while. Deplete a portion of your mighty impressive pile of rocks.”

“Wish me luck.”

Giving Oliver a quick hug they depart. Oliver heads back to his family’s home as Felicity takes a seat to contemplate the new norm of what their world will entail.

#Arrow horizon #olicity #oliver queen #felicity smoak

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anxiousstark · 4 years

Text

S2 10 | Fury

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 2848

Warnings: Mentions of guns, degrading names, injuries, blood, murder, swearing (always).

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

"So this kid's the real killer?" Noah Stilisnki asked, his eyes moving from Scott and Stiles to me. We were in Stiles's bedroom, showing him a picture of Matt. We needed to end this, but Noah didn't seem convinced by what we were trying to explain.

"Yeah." Stiles rolled his eyes.

"No."

"Yes!"

"No."

"Dad, come on." He got up from his chair, standing in front of the man who had raised him. "Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So all he had to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common."

"Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter Kara wasn't in Harris's class."

"All right, okay, you're right, sorry. Then I guess they dropped the charges against him?"

"No, you know what? They're not dropping the charges. But that doesn't prove anything." Stiles groaned, throwing his hands up.

"Scott, do you believe this?"

"It's really hard to explain how we know this, but you just gotta trust us. We know it's Matt." His calming voice reassured the Sheriff, but still, he seemed to have doubts. He glanced at me, and I nodded my head.

"Yeah, he took Harris's car, okay? Look, he knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders, and that if enough of the victims were in Harris's class, that they'd arrest him."

"All right, fine. I'll allow the remote possibility, but give me a motive." We looked at each other, sighing in relief. "I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?"

"Isn't it obvious?" We still didn't know why Matt was doing this, so no. "Our swim team sucks! They haven't won in, like, six years." He shouted before his voice lowered. "Okay, we don't have a motive yet. I mean, come on, does Harris?" Before Noah could answer back his son, I hit Stiles's arm. "Ouch, what was that for?" He rubbed the placed where I had hit him while glancing at me.

"I'm in the swim team, asshole." I pouted, but then I quickly connected another dot. "That's why he attacked me." Both boys looked at me confused, still trying to understand. "That could be another reason, guys. I'm in the swim team." However, there were other people in the swim team, so why didn't he attack them?

"Attacked you?" Mr. Stilisnki directed at me. He seemed mad. "Okay, what do you want me to do?"

We smiled, sighing in content. "We need to look at the evidence," Scott's voice sounded confident.

"Yeah, that would be in the station, where I no longer work."

"Trust me. They'll let you in."

Sheriff Stilisnki was perplexed due to his son's words. "Trust you?" His fingers pointed at him.

"T-trust Scott?" Sheriff still wasn't convinced. "Trust...Y/N?"

"Y/N I trust." I grinned, feeling better than the other two boys, which made both of them push me a little. Tsk, is that jealousy I smell?

"It's 2:00 in the morning." The Deputy behind the counter gave us a judging look. Sheriff Stilisnki took the three of us to the station in hopes of finding more information, which seemed complicated as he no longer worked there.

"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't extremely important."

"We look at the hospital stuff first, okay?" The hazel-eyed boy whispered to Scott and me. "Because all the murders were committed by Jackson, except for one, you remember?" We nodded. The pregnant girl, Jessica.

"Yeah. Since Matt had to kill her himself, somebody from the hospital could've seen him."

The Deputy made a gesture with her head. "Thank you. Boys. Y/N." We entered the office, watching the recording from the cameras of the hospital. "I don't know, guys. I mean, look at this. There was a six-car pileup that night, the hospital was jammed."

"All right, just keep going. Look, he had to have passed one of the cameras on that floor to get to Jessica, okay? He's gotta be on the footage somewhere."

"Oh, hold on, stop! Did you see that? Scroll back." I hurriedly pointed to the camera.

"That's him! That's Matt!"

"All I see is the back of someone's head." Mr. Stilisnki glanced at us over his shoulder.

"Matt's head, yeah. I sit behind him in history. He's got a very distinct cranium, it's weird." A disgusting expression decorated his face. But it couldn't surpass Noah's face, realizing how weird his son was. "All right, fine, then look at his jacket, huh? How many people do you know who wear black leather jackets?"

"Millions, literally."

"Okay, can we scroll forward? There's gotta be a shot of him coming at one of the cameras."

"Right there! Stop, stop! See, there he is again."

"You mean there's the back of his head again."

"Okay, but look. He's talking to someone."

"He's talking to my mom." He took his phone out, calling Melissa who was working. After sending her a picture of Matt, she affirmed recognizing him. She had stopped him because he was tracking mud in the hall.

Noah rapidly grabbed some files. "We've got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site."

"And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders. The trailer, the hospital, and the rave." Stiles added.

"Actually, four. A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt at the garage where the mechanic was killed."

"When?"

"A couple hours before you got there."

"All right, dad, if one's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern, what's four?"

"Four's enough for a warrant." We sighed in relief. "Scott, call your mom back, see how quick she can get here. If I can get an official ID, I can get a search warrant. Y/N, go to the front desk. Tell them to let Scott's mom in when she gets here."

"On it!" I quickly hurried. When I arrived at the front desk, there was nobody. "Hello?" I glance down. The Deputy was lying on the floor, wide eyes, blood covering all of her chest. Then, I noticed that her gun was missing. I heard a click, turning around. Matt was there, the gun pointing to the space between my eyes.

He turned my body around, now pointing the gun to the back of my head. "Walk." We both started walking towards Noah's office.

Stiles was the first one to notice me, his eyes shaking. He was going to take a step forward when his father stopped him. "Matt?" Noah showed him his empty unarmed hands. "It's Matt, right? Matt, whatever's going on, I guarantee you there's a solution that doesn't involve a gun."

"You know, it's funny you say that because I don't think you're aware of just how right you are." The barrel of the gun was pressed tighter against my head as he talked.

"I know you don't wanna hurt people."

"Actually, I wanna hurt a lot of people. You three weren't on my list," The gun he was holding hit the back of my scalp, making me hiss. "She was, Y/N McCall. If it wasn't for her, everything would have gone perfectly. But she HAD to be there, at the video store, fucking everything up." He sighed, pushing me forward. Stiles grabbed me, checking my face quickly, touching the back of my head to make sure that I didn't have any wound. "But I could be persuaded. And one way is to try dialling somebody on your cell phone like McCall is doing. T-that could definitely get someone hurt. Everyone. Now!"

Matt made Stiles handcuff his father, then he took us with him. On the corridor, three officers were on the ground, lifeless. "What, are you gonna kill everyone in here?" Scott asked.

"No, that's what Jackson's for. I just think about killing them, and he does it." He smirked.

Now, we were destroying all the files that conducted to him being a murderer. "Deleted. And we're done. All right, so, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered deserved it because they killed you first, whatever that means, I think we're good here, right? So I'll just get my dad, and we'll go, you know? You continue on the whole vengeance thing. Enjoy the Kanima."

We saw a light, followed by the sound of a car. "Sounds like your mom's here, McCall."

"Matt, don't do this. When she comes to the door, I'll just tell her to leave. I'll tell her we didn't find anything. Please, Matt."

"If you don't move now. I'm gonna kill Stiles first, and then your mom. And then," He smirked. "I'm going to kill her. Because thanks to Y/N the Kanima isn't as strong as it could be. That night, if Jackson would have been the only one getting scratched, all of this wouldn't have happened. You guys would probably be dead." His rage was directed towards me. "But this bitch had to go inside the video store, and fuck everything up."

"And I will fuck everything up again if you touch anyo-" Stiles gripped my arm, begging me to calm down.

To our surprise, it wasn't Melissa. It was Derek. But he was paralyzed as soon as he came inside, falling to the floor, and letting us see Jackson behind him. "This is the one controlling him? This kid?" I tried not to chuckle.

"Well, Derek, not everyone's lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf. Oh, yeah, that's right. I've learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas. It's like a fucking Halloween party every full moon. Except for you, Stiles. What do you turn into?"

"Abominable snowman," I whispered his name, trying to let him know that it wasn't the time to be sarcastic. "But, uh, it's more of, like, a wintertime thing, you know, seasonal."

Matt didn't like Stiles's comment. Jackson scratched his neck, paralyzing him. His body fell on top of Derek. "You bitch."

"Get him off of me."

"Oh, I don't know, Derek. I think you two make a pretty good pair. It must kinda suck, though, to have all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you're not used to feeling this helpless."

"Still got some teeth. Why don't you get down here a little closer, huh? We'll see how helpless I am."

Again, we heard a car. This time, it was Melissa. Scott went out with Matt, the next thing we knew, we heard a gunshot. I stayed on the floor, next to Stiles and Derek. Jackson's eyes fixed on me, smirking. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to end all of this.

A couple of minutes later, Matt came back to the room. My eyes focused on Scott, seeing the blood on his shirt. I walked up to him, examining his face for any type of signal that would let me know that he was healing. He just side-hugged me, keeping me away from his injury. "Is Melissa okay?" I whispered.

He nodded, glaring at Matt. "The evidence is gone. Why don't you just go?"

"Y-you think the evidence mattered that much, huh? No, no, I-I want the book." We both were confused. Matt groaned, getting madder. "The bestiary. Not just a few pages, I want the entire thing."

"I don't have it. It's Gerard's. What do you want it for, anyway?"

"I need answers." He used the back of his mouth to clean the visible sweat around his mouth.

"Answers to what?"

"To this." He lifted his shirt. His right side was the same colour as the Kanima, scales all over it, and it seemed to palpitate. It looked like that thing had its own life. "I'm tired of this," He grabbed Scott's shirt roughly. "Come with me. Jackson, keep an eye on those two," His glare went to me. "And her."

I sat down again, next to both boys while Jackson kept guard of the room so nobody would go inside or outside.

"Hey. You know what's happening to Matt?" Stiles whispered.

"I know the book's not gonna help him. You can't just break the rules, not like this."

"What do you mean?" I asked, keeping my eyes on Jackson.

"Universe balances things out. Always does." He panted. "He is using Jackson to kill people, and killing people himself." I stared at Derek, waiting for him to continue. "Balance."

"Wait," Stiles intervened. "So he becomes the Kanima? Derek nodded. We needed to stop him. We needed to tell him. I glance around the room, seeing my backpack on the floor. "Oh no," I heard Stilinski muttering. "What are you thinking of, McCall?" He tried to move his head to glance at me. "Don't do anything stupid, please. You are the one who told me that when I confronted Peter Hale."

"Did you listen to me, Stiles?" I asked in a hushed voice, crawling to my bag, rummaging through it until I grabbed the object that I was searching for. Pepper spray.

He groaned. "No, I didn't." I slowly got up from the ground, without making any sound. "You aren't going to listen, right?"

"Hey, Jackson," His head snapped to me, eyes shining. "Beautiful eyes." I rapidly used pepper spray. Jackson groaned, kneeling on the ground, and aggressively rubbing his eyes. I threw the spray back to the boys. "He will come to get me. I need to help Scott. Use the spray if you need it!" And even though Derek Hale told me not to do anything absurd, I continued running.

However, the power in the entire station turned off. "Fuck," I muttered. The sound of guns being shot scared the shit out of me, but I had to find Scott. I crawled on the floor, hands covering my head as the windows were being broken by the bullets. Then, when the shots seemed to stop, I got up and ran.

"Shit," My heart almost came out of my chest when I saw Allison. I felt fear because something bad could happen to her, then I felt relieved because we were worried about her as we hadn't seen her at the end of the party. And again, I felt terrified when I saw her face. A numb expression decorating her features while she had a hard grip on her crossbow. "What are you doing here?"

"Where's Derek? She avoided my question, answering with her own. "Where's Derek?!" Her eyes were teary.

"An answer for an answer," I replied. "What the heck are you doing here? You need to get the hell out of here." I looked around, deciding to whisper. "Allison, this is dangerous."

"I'm going to kill Derek Hale because he killed my mom." She spat. "And I will kill anyone who gets on my way."

"Bitch," I mumbled. "Derek Hale saved our asses a million times. Yeah, he probably isn't the best at communication, but when I say our asses, I also mean yours." I scowled. "Your mom," I smirked. "A huge bitch she is. Well, she was." Allison threw a punch at me, but I surprisingly dodged it, something you would only expect in films or books. "She deserves all that she got. She went to the hospital to get information from Mellisa." She glanced at the ground while I continued. "She deserved all that she got. Do you know why? Because she tried to kill Scott." She was in denial, but she knew because her family was deranged. "She tried to kill your boyfriend, Allison. She tried to kill my brother." I firmly stated.

"Shut up!" Next thing I knew, there was an arrow piercing my stomach. The arrow was exactly in the middle. I stared at it, and the blood coming out, although no words were coming out of my mouth as I stared at her. "Oh my, I-I didn't mean to-" I fell to the ground, thankfully on my back so the arrow wouldn't get more stuck in my abdomen. Allison was also interrupted when the Kanima appeared, paralyzing her. Then, it was Matt's turn to make an appearance.

"You should've given me a chance. Because remember how I said I'm not the kind of guy who would say something like: 'well if I can't have her, no one can.' It's not totally true because, Allison, if I can't have you, no one can!" He screamed. "Thank you for finding this slut," He kneeled next to me, brushing my hair. "Pepper spray, uh?"

"If I could," I gasped for air. "I would fucking k-kill you right now."

"Yeah," He laughed hysterically. "But I think you are dying first. Should we show momma McCall, Scott, and Stiles how stunningly beautiful you look as the blood leaves your body?" This dude was sick, utterly sick. "Yeah, let's show them." The hand that was caressing my hair clutched it forcefully, dragging me by my hair through all the rooms in the station. I lost consciousness.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker - @brithedemonspawn - @weirdowithnobeardo - @my-soul-is-the-moon - @azayamari - @poguestyle17 - @bibliophilewednesday -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

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moondustaeil · 4 years

Text

cynosure ⌖ lee jeno

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ✧☾.·:·.cynosure

⠀ ⠀⠀ about

⋅ genre : contract killer/gangster!au : romance, fluff, angst

⋅ characters : Jeno x fem!reader and ot21

⋅ word count : 17k (yes, it’s a lot)

⋅ warning : violence, use of weapons, gambling, kidnapping, betrayal, blackmailing, timeskips, murder, blood, character death, roughly based on bap’s skydive. Don’t read if you’re not ready

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ synopsis

⋅ Contact-killer Jeno finds himself lurking between twenty possible perpetrators. One mission-based game with only few chances to save y/n, if it’s not too late that is. Only one gets to be the last man standing, but who will be the lucky cynosure?

suıǝ

“Lee Jeno”

The voice of unofficial leader Taeyong made Jeno look up from the tiled floor. It was the strictness of the voice that required him to pay attention. “What?” He asked.

“I just did the casting but if you’re uninterested, don’t bother to come. You know what that means, right?” Taeyong asked, his white hair falling in front of his eyes as he tilted his head to the side. Not that Taeyong expected an answer, and not that Jeno was willing to give the answer even if it was expected from him. All twenty-one members were aware of the one unwritten rule, perhaps a little selfish to remember that one but forget the remaining ones. Everyone knew, and yet there was one person who felt like reminding everyone. “More money for the rest” words said by no other than wiseacre Doyoung.

A silent sigh threatened to escape from Jeno’s lips, but the word “money” kept him hostage despite not being interested in a new robbery. “Just give me my task please,” he said while his eyes traveled from Taeyong to the other nineteen people around him: wearing the same black outfits, carrying the same uninterested attitude, and still it was him who got called out. “Easy. You and Yangyang, clean up after the rest leaves.”

“Cleaning up your mess? Am I a trashcan or something?! All I’ve been doing in the past weeks is clean up behind your dirty ass, wiping blood from floors like I’m cleaning snot from a baby’s face” Jeno opened his book of mental complaints, letting them flow out mindlessly. It wasn’t exaggerated as in the past few weeks he had only been paired up with younger members, given the task to make proof disappear as stars disappeared from the night sky.

“Audition for a different part next time, loverboy” Taeyong shot back upon hearing the complaint about his casting method, his words gaining strength from Donghyuck who was making soppy kissing noises in the background. When was the teasing finally going to stop? Did he prefer scolding instead? Yes, he did. At least scolding wasn't as hard to ignore as bratty behavior. "At least I'm not lonely" Jeno quietly protested despite feeling lonely in the group of twenty other young men, no one seemed to take his side and those who considered taking it were silenced.

Laughter followed after his words. These were his friends, his enemies hidden behind a tight string that tied them together. This was neo culture technology, and he belonged to the limitless set of demons.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"I'm not from NCT, I'm a part of wayV" Yangyang insisted as he pointlessly raised his finger in the air to prove his point.

Jeno couldn't help but let out an annoyed sigh at the younger boy. After nearly three-quarters of an hour, he was tired of the constant boyish behavior... Little did he know he acted like that too around older members.

"That's the same thing, just not in public. You're even lucky you got in, I bet no one else wanted an annoying orange" Jeno shot back. Pacing back and forth in the dark alley, shadows didn't even follow him as there was no light to give him the double life. "At least I didn't get stuck in a group named dream, with some other teenage kids. Speaking of, when are you going to graduate?"

Jeno swallowed thickly when he heard the question, his focus changing from the annoying boy to the content of the things he said. It was ridiculous to fear a simple graduation while he risked his life at least once a week. No one in the dream team dared to urge a word about graduating, scared it would speed up the process.

Where would he go once he graduated?

Perhaps his rank would be higher as he moved into another unit. Or this was the end of his young life in the environment, or even in the world. Time would give him an answer, though he preferred not knowing the answer to that question.

Dream was a wonderful unit as the name already stated. Wonderful enough to make it sound like they were a clubhouse rather than a gang.

"I don't know" Jeno answered truthfully, his eyes lowering towards the black earpiece in the palm of his hand. With a sigh, his fist clenched around the piece of plastic. "We should focus on the mission now. Even if we're just the blood wipers, I want to know what's going on" he said, moving the earpiece from the palm of his hand into his ear.

Yangyang was quick to follow the lead despite his natural reaction of following his own nature. The millennium kid had made his official debut to the gang in 2019, January to be exact. The training he was required to follow before that date didn't prepare him much for the real job. When he wasn't being annoying, or rather, when he was feeling insecure, he would follow the lead of older members. And apparently, this minute had hit a certain level on his insecurity meter.

Gunshot

The sound seemed to break the talk Jeno and Yangyang had between the two of them but in reality, it was the earpiece that separated their vocal connection momentarily. Nothing but footsteps and some incomprehensible words falling from voices he didn't recognize.

Gunshot

This time things seemed to get more frantic. The quiet footsteps seemed to turn into a nonexistent escape route and he could hear Taeyong yelling something to the rest of the team.

"Take the money"

Protests followed after those words, the same voice from before begging for either his life or the packs of money. But between gangs: there was no such thing as concern for justice, peace, or respect for each other. Humans were no people, they were animals hunting for the prey.

Gunshot

That was the cue. The third gunshot existed but ended just seconds after its birth. "Go" Jeno announced to Yangyang, pushing the boy out of the alley as he followed behind.

Multitasking between looking around to check surroundings and listening to the other members leaving the site was hard, surely when he had Yangyang to watch over as if he was a toddler from barely two years old.

Time ticked by as the members did their own tasks, as many members left the site: Yangyang and Jeno entered the site, Doyoung and Kun took out their earpieces from their hideout. That's how neo culture technology worked: alone together. Each with an own task, all for one pot of money.

Between the identified color of blood and forgotten bills of green gold. Jeno found himself with one earpiece dangling on his shoulder, replaced by his phone that was currently pressed against his ear.

"I'll be with you soon" he spoke into the phone to break the silence you had offered him. It wasn't an awkward silence until you connected the soppy sounds together with him not saying much, someone else's blood was getting erased from the floor but would drip from his glove-covered fingers instead. "Just be safe, not quick," you said in a soft tone, hushing yourself just in case the walls had ears.

Jeno couldn't help but chuckle softly at your worried nature, totally ignoring Yangyang and the task that he was given. "You know me," he said into the phone, already knowing which answer you would give, and he was waiting for those exact words. Your reply followed not long after, the smile audible as you spoke, "That's why I said it."

"See you soon, y/n"

ıǝʍz

The pearly white silk protected your skin from the fitted sheet that covered the mattress. Smoothly and without friction, your sleepy body turned itself forty-five degrees.

Heaven seemed to live its secret life in your bedroom: no sounds, no such thing as too much or too little. The symbolic golden spoon-fed you and Jeno, in reality, it was made possible with money from robberies and killer contracts.

A soft sniffling sound turned heaven a little bit cold, your eyes opening from your own sounds. Your side felt uncomfortable now that you turned to it but felt the bones through layers of skin, yet, your body had no intention to make you comfortable again.

Next to you was your boyfriend, Lee Jeno, your first and hopefully last. The naturally dark roots fell over his closed eyelids, shielding him away from the miracle of a new day. His broad shoulders half-covered with the sheet, the other half showing up from where the same sheet was crumpled together.

The peaceful feeling made you blink slowly, on the verge of falling back into a light slumber. Until, in the midst of blinking, your eyes noticed the lonely dot on the sheet.

As red as love, shot through the arrow of Cupid.

Sobered up from your drowsy moment, your body untangled itself from Jeno's. Your face hovered close enough to the red dot to see that the dot no longer seemed a dot: whatever it had been before, its wetness had seeped into the sheets overnight to create something that changed the circular form if you looked close enough.

The heap of sheets suddenly felt like a rag covered in blood, and you were in the midst of it. That little dot, that tiny little dot, made you feel even tinier than the few inches it was.

"Lie down, it's cold" Jeno's voice interrupted your silent investigation. A crime scene unfolding as you still had to check whether the blood was from either of you or not, but the map with possible hints was quickly thrown overboard when your boyfriend made his appearance.

Your body was frozen in its position, your lips tightly pursed together which prevented you from giving an answer to your boyfriend. "y/n?" Jeno asked, his eyes finally opening when he realized you weren't lying down with him again. His brown eyes were greeted with your silk-covered back, your shoulders tense enough to make it noticeable. "What's wrong?" Out of worry, he sat up as well, his arm lazily slinging around your shoulder as a sign of comfort.

"Please talk," Jeno said, the hand on your shoulder pushing you into his arms but your muscles wouldn't allow that. It was then that he noticed you were staring at something, his eyes angling themselves the same way as yours in order to see what you were looking at. And that's when he saw it,

the droplet of blood on the Virgin-white sheet.

As used as Jeno was to blood and gore, he found himself staring at the little dry patch for a few seconds. Unlike your mind, his wasn't focused on finding answers to questions, he just stared with a black expression displayed on his face.

"Whose blood is this?" You asked him, your arm pushing his arm as you immediately wanted an answer. Even if it was a lie, an answer was an answer. Jeno licked his lower lip before he separated the upper and lower part to start speaking "It's mine" he uttered out, the two words coming out slow even though he finished speaking after one second.

You looked away from the blood, instead, looking at your boyfriend. A question mark seemed to be written on your face, though, it was only a symbolic sign for your confusion. "Yours?" You asked him, eyes begging for an explanation instead of your words. "Mine. When we were cleaning up the scene I cut myself on a bayonet. I forgot about it and just went to bed"

Jeno's words made you throw off the sheets as fast as possible, not that you wanted to get rid of the little droplet, but if he was telling the truth, you had to clean up the wound for him. "Fuck, Jeno" you whispered in shock as the fitted sheet was now not only white but also had a red gradient in it. The patches were still partially wet, and those that weren't had started to discolor.

Jeno's eyes didn't follow yours this time, knowing well enough what was going on near the end of the bed. "Let me get everything to clean it up," you said quickly, not waiting for a reply as you got up from the bed and ran around the place to get the first-aid kit.

Minutes after, you found yourself and Jeno sitting on the clean side of the bed. His back pressed against the soft headboard while you sat on top of your pillow, his arm resting in your lap while you took care of the wound. While you cleaned the wound, your tough contract-killer boyfriend had winced due to the stinging of the alcohol in his open gash. He should have been used to it by now, it was something monthly as sometimes they stupidly got hurt during their robberies.

"I should have told you, but you were asleep. And it was past midnight" Jeno tried to explain to you, looking at you rather than the open wound. He wasn't the type to look at it continuously, which probably was surprising seeing his profession. "You should've" you answered to his words, not giving him more attention since you didn't want to mess up and make the cut worse. "I will next time," he told you, but mostly himself. A spoonful of lies that he swallowed down, he wouldn't wake you up in the middle of the night for a stupid cut.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Jeno opened his eyes again for what felt like the second time that day, in reality, it was the second time that day. Tiredness had taken over his body after the crime scene cleanup, or two of them as he could suddenly remember how you cleaned the cut this morning.

"y/n?" He asked out loud, scanning his surroundings momentarily but was quick to conclude that you weren't there with him.

As tired as his body was, he sat up and got out of bed. Replacing his lazy sweatpants by the usual black outfit, not forgetting to layer over the bandage on his arm. No one had to know he got hurt, not even Yangyang knew as he had mistaken Jeno's blood for that of the enemy.

He called out your name again as his steps quickened once he was out of the bedroom. Panic spread through his body as he became aware of his hate for you living in your own apartment instead of at his hideout with the others. No one could protect you, apparently not even him when he was around.

"calm down, Jeno" your voice called out from the kitchen, immediately he followed the sound of your voice, and more than that the scent of fresh breakfast. The frown he unknowingly had on his face was replaced with a look of relief. "I'm calm" he answered, steps slowing down until he was able to reach out to you.

His arm wrapped around your waist in an attempt to pull you closer, or an attempt to apologize for not telling you about the wound. "You didn't even say good morning" he complained in a more playful way, needing affection as he did feel a bit down after what happened and the way he was treated by the others. "It wasn't exactly a good one," you said, trying to smile despite your feelings. Was it disappointment? Or were you just worried about him?

"I know, sorry" Jeno mumbled, his head meaning towards your neck before he placed a tiny kiss upon the skin. He could imagine that waking up to heaps of blood wasn't the most pleasant thing, he didn't have to imagine it though as he had gone through it together with you.

Your standard answer laid on the tip of your tongue, it was only a matter of seconds before your lips parted and you let the words escape. "It's fine" were those words, words that you used weekly if not daily. Jeno knew that it wasn't fine, and you knew that Jeno knew. Yet, neither of you protested against those words.

"I love you, you know that right?" Jeno asked you, his lips trailing towards the side of your face. You had a hard time not smiling, but as soon as his lips were placed against the corner of your lips, those corners curved upwards. "I know" you confirmed, your head lightly tilting to enjoy the warmth of his lips against your skin. "I love you too," you said back to him, finally turning your head for a small peck upon each other's lips.

Breakfast took place on the sofa, the two of you sitting intimately close to each other while having some minor talks. Talks about your life rather than his, because he didn't want to put you at a risk by giving you too much information.

"Why don't you live with us..." Jeno started his sentence but never got to finish as you held up your hand and finished it off for him. "It's a lot safer?" You asked, using your index and middle finger as quotation marks.

He nodded as soon as you finished what he started, nervously tugging on his lower lip with his teeth. "It's a lot safer and we would see each other more," he said. You would say yes because you would see him more, but you still said no because it wouldn't he safer at all. Moving in with him would mean that you stood in the midst of chaos, safe, but one mistake and the circle pulled you in as a guest.

"I don't know, I'll think about it," you said with a tiny smile on your lips, which disappeared due to the frozen reaction of your boyfriend. "Please do," he told you, putting down the finished bowl of cereal before he leaned back.

It seemed like he didn't care after that. Though in his mind war was going on: could he manipulate you into living with him? And did he do it for your safety or just because he wanted to be close to you?

ıǝɹp

Jeno [ 9 : 19 am ] : good morning x

The small hand of the clock had moved itself upwards while Jeno waited for a response, he hadn't heard the seconds tick by but was aware of how slow they were passing.

"Why aren't you awake yet?" He asked himself out loud, unaware of the members that were in the same room as him. Though it was Renjun who decided to get up and make his way towards his friend: as quiet and savage as he was, Renjun cared deeply and was ready to fight anyone who hurt his friends.

"What's wrong?" Renjun asked, his eyes on Jeno rather than his phone to give the man his privacy. Jeno's response was silence for a few seconds, but after a short sigh he decided to speak up. "y/n isn't answering my texts. She was busy today so she can't be sleeping" he said, slamming the phone against his free hand in frustration and worry.

Renjun couldn't help but smile to himself at Jeno's contradicting words. "Did you hear what you just said?" He asked, trying not to laugh because it was cringeworthily adorable to see Jeno worrying so much about you. Jeno didn't reply as he didn't see the point, he knew well enough what he said: you were busy so you couldn't be sleeping, which meant something must have happened to you.

In his head he was already imagining how another gang broke into your home and killed you without mercy, yet, he saw your alive form in his imagination.

"y/n is busy, that means she can't reply to you because she's doing other things. You said so yourself" Renjun pointed out, snapping Jeno out of his filthy imagination. Perhaps Renjun was right but that didn't stop Jeno from worrying about you, and yes, he had reasons to worry about you.

In the meantime Chenle had also joined, his read resting on Renjun's shoulder as he was listening to the conversation. "I think Renjun is right about that. y/n is probably busy, you just said that yourself so why are you expecting her to reply?" the youngster inquired. It wasn't a real inquiry as the two other boys were just trying to make Jeno see the context of the situation and the reason why you weren't replying to a simple morning text.

In their eyes, it had been merely one hour that passed by, in Jeno's eyes it was like you hadn't messaged him all week. It couldn't be ignorance, you would never purposely ignore him, not even on your worst day. The image of someone killing you continued to live on his thoughts.

"I bet you're right" Jeno concluded, his phone dropping on the little coffee table in the middle of the living space. His lips carried a fake smile, unable to kill his thoughts despite the tries of his dream team.

Everyone could see the smile was fake. Even Hendery who was on the other side of the room could see the fabricated facial expression. But no one spoke up about it: not even Renjun and Chenle who had been trying to guide him through the thorny path just seconds ago.

The minutes continued to pass by, it seemed like time had no motive to move forward, perhaps it even wanted to move back to another moment in its big fragment album.

When Taeyong walked in, the time had seemingly decided it was time to follow the leader. "I got our next mission" he declared, holding the big white envelope between his index and middle finger like he was proudly showing it off to the twenty guys in the room.

He opened the envelope, handing everyone a little bundle of white papers. The Korean writing on it revealing who they were supposed to kill, whether they had to take money, and if they could elegantly kill the person or if it would be a bloody job.

"We're killing this man for our mission. He's forty-one years old, one of the better people for his age... At least in his job." Taeyong quickly described as his own information sheet was thrown on top of the table, he knew his victims before they were even his. "Just a bullet through his skull, as elegant as possible. Clean up the scene and that's the job" he continued his plan, it became clear this wasn't a twenty-one people job. A maximum of five people could be assigned to this, otherwise, they would become their own victims.

"Price tag is 100.000 for the hit. Divided by the dream team who will do the job. Jaemin will lead the team and cast the others" Taeyong said, giving a bod as a sign that was all they had to do. Though behind the five-person job was a broader network: people who were always waiting somewhere close in case things got a red code, others who stayed at the hideout but listened through their earpiece and updated on possible information as they kept control over the surrounding streets.

Jeno glanced at his bundle of information. His eyes on the little picture of the man he was supposed to kill, unless Jaemin cast him in the cleaning team again, but he wasn't going to let that happen this time. His eyes needed only one scan over the text to get the man's name and situation, not missing how he had a daughter of nine years old and a son who was merely five. Information about a wife or partner wasn't included but guessed the man had no time for love or his children seeing his profession.

"Jeno, can you come with me? I need to speak to you" Taeyong asked seriously, his eyes on Jeno who still seemed caught up in reading the mission. Jeno looked up slowly but his eyes quickly shifted when the youngest, Jisung, snatched the papers out of his hand and threw them on the table. "Go," he said, trying to do his best on impressing the others even if he had been a part of the team for years.

Jeno nodded his head slowly, getting up from his seat and followed Taeyong towards the empty office space. Once both were in, the door was closed and silence filled the space like furniture was supposed to do.

"Something wrong with you?" Taeyong asked, his arms crossed, and yet his posture seemed open enough to trust him. Jeno shook his head at first: not ready to tell him how he was worried about you, and not ready to tell him even more than just that. "Nope" Jeno answered, his casual speech making him lore suspicious. And Taeyong who saw the tiniest details knew Jeno was giving false information.

"I'm just worried about y/n" Jeno admitted, breaking eye contact as he knew Taeyong could look through him. "I knew this would happen, that's why we don't have girlfriends," Taeyong said, though the tone he said it in didn't match the words, it was sounding more caring than the words truly were. "She didn't reply to my text earlier. It's been over an hour, almost two hours, and she still didn't reply" Jeno continued off where he left earlier, leaving Taeyong’s words in the dark.

"And why are you so worried? Usually, you're too busy to even notice she didn't answer." Taeyong stated, his eyes narrowing as he needed Jeno to specifically tell him what was going on behind the scenes. Perhaps he knew what was going on, but preferred to hear it from Jeno's lips instead.

"because someone sent me a picture of her while she was outside."

ɹǝıʌ

"So you're not staying the night?" You asked Jeno just to be sure, but the way he was preparing his gun didn't make it seem like he would stay the night. Your eyes picked up how he shook his head in response, his lips pursed not to spill more secrets about the contract he had signed for tonight. You would be the one killing him if you heard he was going to kill someone who had two young kids and still half of his life to live. You just didn't understand his job, which was the reason talks about that were nonexistent.

You nodded in response to his little signal, your phone clutched in your hand as you tried to hide a bit of the frustration. Fighting about this wasn't common, but arguments were as for him it was just a delete button that he had to press, while you saw it as killing real humans who had something to live for.

"And I'm going out with Dream after that" Jeno said quickly as he looked up at you, hoping that part would make you smile a bit. And to his surprise, that smile appeared on your lips. "Finally some time for yourself" you commented just as he expected you to. For some reason you always liked to see him doing his own things: going out with his friends, exercising because he loved doing so, going outside without a gun hidden behind his zipped up jacket.

You stood up and let out a silent sigh as you stepped towards your boyfriend. Once he was close enough, your arms wrapped around his body from behind, engulfing his body as you wished he would be safe tonight. "Be safe" you whispered, your nose pressed against his shirt to take in his homely scent.

"Always," Jeno said, his hand brushing over yours as they connected on his stomach. He noticed your smaller fingers under his, his hands standing out more due to the veins and the silver ring around his finger. As a promise he would be safe and come back to you, he slipped the thick band from his finger onto yours. "See if as a promise for now," he said, his body turning towards yours to look into your eyes. You looked surprised, still tense but he could also see a bit of relief upon your face. "You should take my necklace as a piece of good luck," you said, your hands reaching behind your neck to unclasp the piece of jewelry. Once you removed it from yourself, you carefully put it on on him.

"I love you" he whispered as he smiled, the relief you had on your face, reflecting onto his as well. He was more worried about you than himself: even if he stood at a bigger risk to get killed in the mission. "I love you too," you said back with a smile, your hands resting behind his neck where you just clasped the necklace.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips, showing you indeed how much he loved you. His arms snaking around your body to hold you close: the fear of losing you still played in the back of his mind even though this time he had managed to hide it well from you.

"I should go now, I still have to get to the hideout and get the others" Jeno whispered against your soft lips, hesitating as he was trying to pull away but the warmth kept his lips glued against yours for a few seconds.

It wasn't him who eventually pulled away as you did, leaving his lips completely after one last peck. "You really should" you whispered as your body separated from his, the lack of warmth making you wrap your arms around yourself. Jeno nodded in agreement, knowing if he didn't leave now, the mission could go horribly wrong even if it was only a few minutes late.

"you don't need to tell me to be safe, I already know," he said with a small smirk on his lips, knowing you wanted to tell him those words once again. You let out a small laugh, your boyfriend knew you a little bit too well. "Still, be safe. And have fun with the boys later" you said, a soft and calm smile on your lips as you tried not to worry too much about your boyfriend... Even if he a part of the best gangs and contract killers, that didn't mean others couldn't make him a victim.

His hand brushed over yours as he walked past you, his presence leaving out of the door as soon as his body did as well.

The fortune-teller in your minds was right, troubles were on the way, even if you hadn't believed now. You would be a believer by the end of the day.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Jeno held the old-fashioned glass with liquor in one hand, the ice cubes within it making a slight ringing sound as the glass was moved towards his lips again.

"Does it take that long to clean up?" Renjun asked with a deep sigh as he glanced at the entrance, waiting until the door opened and the two youngest dream members walked in. But nothing seemed to happen, even if they had been waiting for half an hour already. "Jisung might have gone home, he can't drink anyway" Jaemin answered, an oversized wine glass standing in front of him which made the red liquid cover a part of his face.

Jeno didn't answer as he kept on glancing at the bar, his eyes on the man who seemed to sit there and enjoy his drink alone. "who is he?" Jaemin asked curiously as he tried to catch a glimpse of the man's face. Even though Jeno didn't come alone, he stood up, took his glass, and looked apologetically to his friends. "I have to talk to him, we just know each other," he told Jaemin who didn't seem satisfied with the boring answer.

Jeno went over to the bar and placed his glass down, catching the eyes of the man by just his manner of doing so. "Jeno," the man said with a slight smile on his lips, welcoming Jeno to sit next to him and talk for a little while. "Didn't expect to see you here. You dropped out before we knew it" Jeno said soft, his hand resting under his head in an attempt to look more interested than curious about the ex trainee.

"I wanted to make it alone in the world. More money for myself, fewer chances of getting caught." The man said, his wise words leaving an impression on Jeno even though he wasn't planning on leaving NCT just to get more money. "How about you? Are you still part of NCT?" He asked but already guessed the answer as he remembered Jaemin and Renjun from the few times they had seen each other while training.

"I am. I think I found my place there" Jeno answered with a smile, it felt sentimental to smile while thinking about his group of friends even though they were killers and did other things that no one was supposed to do. "You seem like you belong there, NCT is getting big. You deserve to be a part of it" He answered, his hand loving to Jeno's back to give it a little supportive pat.

Jeno's eyes shifted to the entrance as the door opened again, revealing not only Jisung and Chenle but also the other sixteen members. "I should go," he said to the man as he quickly got up, not wanting to be guilty of talking to someone else who did the same as him. He stood up but instead of going to his friends, he first went to the back of the club to try and call you.

His fingers were quick to find your contact within the list as the amount people that he saw outside of his gang were limited as well. The sight of your contact name already made a smile appear on his lips, he was just in love with you.

The beeping tone made him expect that it would last no longer than a few seconds. At this time of the night, you probably weren't asleep yet, in fact, you were probably waiting for his call. It was like a routine built up for nights when he wasn't going to be around you and yet when he wanted to update you.

"y/n?" He asked as he heard his line being connected to yours, the smile on his lips already prepared for what you were about to say. Slowly the corners of his lips tired themselves out when silence was his only reply.

Jeno repeated your name once again, the phone pressed tightly against his ear like that would make him hear the silence better. "Hello? y/n?" He asked, this time louder in case you hadn't realized you were on the phone with him.

Without realizing, he swallowed away the worries that collected in his throat. His heart seemed to beat slightly faster and out of slight panic, his fingertips quickly made an end to the one-way conversation. Yet, he kept the phone in his hand just in case you would call him back right away, or just to call your number again within a short time.

His feet to him back to the bar as he saw his glass still as filled as before, though, not awaiting for him as much as an unfamiliar black envelope did. The young man he had talked with minutes ago was gone as he had never been there, or like he had been replaced by the envelope.

Jeno's hands were curious and grasped the clasp envelope from the bar and between his two fingers, scanning the paper case for a handwritten message or name. Though only the black color greeted him from every angle possible. It didn't take long before the flap was undone from its glue and opened up.

Nervously his hand stuck inside the paper wrapper, gripping onto anything that his fingers could sense. He felt tense as his hand slowly revealed itself again with all of the collected documentation.

A picture was flipped between his fingers, his eyes unprepared for the image that was burned on the retina just seconds later.

"y/n" he whispered quietly as he stared at the picture of you. Jeno's eyes went over every little detail of the picture: your eyes closed but not entirely, your hands that weren't in the picture but from the angle of your arms they weren't really placed comfortably and your knees that were pulled up towards your chest like you were freezing. Something definitely was wrong.

Wildly Jeno began to look around in the club, searching for the culprit as the envelope couldn't have flown itself to here. His eyes began to examine all of the people around: the members who seemed all occupied in their own thing, a small group of girls who were just having a drink, the people on the dance floor acting drunker than they actually were. But where was the barman? Jeno was about to suspect him until he saw the man return with a few bottles of champagne.

The other documents in the envelope were forgotten as he went to his group, more specifically, Taeyong as he would know what to do. The urge to not say anything and go straight to your apartment overpowered him: anyone was a suspect, even his best friends.

Rational thinking didn't seem to pop up into his mind, straight away leaving the place together with the evidence. Even though he came with the others, he was stupid enough to run all the way to your apartment.

His veins were filled with dynamite

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Steganography

A message within a file, that was what Jeno was staring at. The message had been revealed on the back of your picture, or the picture of you. His eyes scanned each syllable slowly even though, together they would form words that would turn into sentences once they were put together.

Invisible ink. Just those two words didn't sit well with him, and then he wasn't even thinking about the odd fragrance that was now stuck to the picture. Did he ever use invisible ink? No, but he knew people who used it. And those people were a little too close to him.

"It's do or die."

Jeno mumbled as he read out the words, staring at the unfamiliar handwriting until something else caught his eye. In the right corner of the picture was an address written, together with a very specific time. The place he knew all too well: another dark alley between a couple of houses that were open for rent, but no one was willing to live there because it was infamous to be a dealing place or even worse than that.

The words on the back of the picture slowly turned invisible again, so slow that Jeno didn't even notice how they faded before completely disappearing. He didn't need to see them again: it was printed in his mind like the image of his first kiss with you.

He turned his wrist and checked the time, mentally checking if it was close to the time that had been asked of him. "Shit" he silently cursed when he saw that in fact, there were only a few minutes left before he was supposed to be at the given address. Without thinking twice, he bolted from your apartment and started to run the way to the alley, hoping he would get to meet the person who had you captured, but wished it was you who just tried to pull a prank on him together with one of his members.

Though his wish wasn't granted, he didn't need a genie to tell him the wish he made was impossible, he knew it as soon as he stood in the middle of the alley, being over five minutes later than planned. It didn't feel like you could be there, this probably was one of the places you wouldn't even go because you knew what went on once innocent people found themselves in the midst of the gangs.

Silent footsteps made Jeno want to turn around, getting tense at the thought of someone being behind him. His fingertips reached behind his jacket, merely touching the grip of the gun but was interrupted by someone roughly pushing him forward against the brick wall.

Jeno's breathing sped up, perhaps a bit of fear jolted through his body and made his hands tremble so much that the light grip he had on his gun turned into non-existent. Out of habit, his head slightly turned to look behind him but as a result, his head was pushed against the wall roughly.

"where is y/n!" Jeno said loudly, his voice breaking the wince he was about to let out after getting his head bumped against the wall. The sound of a gun cocking made Jeno's eyes get darker, and just like he expected, the cold object was placed against the side of his head in order to keep him still. He was focused on that and that only, wanting to hear every little sound so that he could defend himself when things got out of hand.

Once more his head got pushed against the wall, his forehead falling to the side after it came in painful contact with the stone wall. It was like the world stopped spinning for a while, but once it did, he could hear footsteps running further from him.

His hand instinctively went to his forehead, soothing the possible wound in rough rubs before he turned his body around. Relief washed over him for a mere amount of seconds, until the real realization seemed to hit him: he still didn't have you in his arms, nor did he know who actually led him here. While continuing to rub rough circles over his forehead, his body bent over the lying black envelope. Once again the envelope greeted him without name written on top of it.

His bloody hand was quick to open the new piece of evidence or a new clue towards you, shaking the envelope upside down until its contents fell to the ground. A bundle of A4 papers faced him: more specifically a file that looked similar to how Taeyong received files of those they had to delete off of the world.

The handwritten text over the file screamed out his name before the picture did, the message was clear enough without the picture, and Jeno was willing to comply.

"Kill the informant"

ɟun̤ɟ

The sound suppressor attached to the muzzle of Jeno's pistol faded out most of the noise as a bullet was shot through the informant's skull. Blood spattered against the half-open window but left some small evidence upon Jeno's black coat.

He pulled his gun back as soon as he had reached it a few seconds ago, hiding it behind the long coat that was already in possession of a half confession. His eyes went to the man once more and the heap of files that were waiting on the seat next to him, minus the file Taeyong had taken with him when he left the place a few minutes ago.

A new mission for NCT, perhaps the last one now that Jeno had pressed a delete button in front of the informant's eyes. But he didn't care about that fact: he followed the path of the person who had you and didn't care how different that path was from the path he wanted to follow. Any path where you were on, was the path he would walk on too.

He stepped away from the car and left the place delict, no time for cleaning up messes as Taeyong would have made him do, no one would find out it was him. The man had more enemies than clients, and those clients were left in a dark hole while enemies were on a lovely display. His eyes went from left to right to check the surroundings, walking out in the open street once he saw no one else was around.

His hands were kept in his pocket before it was the two little devils that made people suspect him of unclean actions. He unknowingly wiped the bit of blood in the inside of his pockets, making the little hiding place feel uncomfortably moist and his hands perhaps bloodier than they had been before he put them there.

The walk to the hideout was longer than Taeyong's car ride, of course, as Taeyong drove past the speed limit. Wasn't fast driving a privilege of being a gang member too? Probably not but there was no reason he would keep the speed to its original limit at midnight. If he had known Jeno would be behind him, he would have given the younger member a ride, but that was the secrecy in friendship. No one needed to know Jeno was behind the murder of the informant and no one needed to know that Jeno was on the hunt for you.

"Jeno is back from his girlfriend. Did you get laid again, lucky boy?" Ten teased as soon as he saw who walked inside, it wasn't hard to guess as only one member was missing from the hideout, and as usual, that member was Jeno. Jeno dug his hand deeper into his pocket in an attempt to hide the blood on his hands and sleeves, clenching his fist in anger when Ten started his endless teasing.

No one could do it like Ten, sure Haechan was the biggest brat out of them, but there was no one as manipulatively teasing as Ten. The sweet smile he carried on his lips while he was at it made people want to punch him straight into the face, but it's what the boy did best. "I didn't," he said, holding himself back from saying that he hadn't been around you since you'd been kidnapped, but he wisely shut his mouth before the tea boiled over the pot.

"Admit that you did. You're such a pussy" Ten shot back and rolled his eyes, a laugh escaping from his lips as he seemed to see a flustered look in Jeno's eyes. Protective sub-leader Kun gave Ten a shove against the shoulder in order to stop the Thai man from provoking even more "stop it" he whisper-yelled although it was loud enough for Jeno to catch the words from a distance.

Jeno looked away, missing one last smirk that Ten gave him. He was about to go to the room he had for himself in the hideout, luckily he was the one who didn't have to share a room as his roommates would have easily found out what happened behind their backs.

"Meeting time" Taeyong announced right before Jeno was about to walk away from the others. A fake hum left his lips as Jeno turned around again to face his group. "Can I change first, I've been running from y/n's place to here and I'm sweaty" he said, making up the excuse without thinking twice about the unathletically long coat that covered his body, and the fact that there was no droplet of sweat running down his defined facial features.

"An hour. You all get an hour and now stop complaining" Taeyong answered unexpectedly, making Jeno get away with the lies he told and he wasn't planning on waiting another few seconds so that Taeyong could realize the lies. He went to his room at a fast pace, his hands urging to take off the coat before he even entered his room.

The bedroom door closed behind Jeno, shielding him in his own little cocoon for a maximum of sixty minutes. His mind ran overtime while Jeno tried to empty it from all thoughts: his layers of clothes getting taken off like a book revealing all of its secrets.

The blood-covered coat got its original spot back in his closet but with rolled-up sleeves, and the gun back in his drawer where he would always keep a gun out of safety. Despite it being after midnight, the reflection of the mirror picked up how he changed into a pair of black jeans and a white shirt. So formal for no one and nothing.

He picked up his phone from the bed before sitting on the spot where his phone lied before. His fingerprint unlocked his device so that his eyes didn't have to stare at the picture of you and him for too long, he didn't want to be reminded of the fact that he wasn't able to protect you. Even though he didn't want that, he found himself scrolling through heaps of collected messages to and from you.

Text messages that had been keeping souvenirs alive from even before you disappeared: messages that had been kept into his phone for months, messages that he would read whenever he felt down but couldn't reach out to you. Each time he scrolled past a sugary sweet message, he smiled at the memory of even sweeter memories with you.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Jeno brought his hand up to his eyes as soon as the feeling of being awake brought him back to reality. A cold but painful material scraping over his skin as he was in the process of rubbing his eyes, which made him pull away and open his eyes faster than the light allowed him to adjust to the new situation.

He opened the palm of his hand, still a little drowsy from the abrupt awakening, making something fall from his hand and onto his lap. A silver necklace chain leading the trail to the charm of your necklace and his ring dangling from it as well.

His fingers tightened around the silver, lifting it in the air to examine it. His eyes soon enough fell to the charm that had been yours until you gave it to him as a sign of good luck, he would have smiled at the memory if it weren't for the ring dangling next to it. The same ring he put on your finger just a little over a day ago.

As the band twisted itself around the chain, Jeno's eyes continued following each little movement it created. He could clearly remember the way he slid it onto your finger like he would when he proposed, he could even remember how he said something about a promise.

The tight grip became a clenched fist as realization seemed to spread through his body, eyes never tearing away from the necklace. Looking at it wouldn't give him an answer to the simple question in his mind, but at least he received a hint. The hint that would open a new path towards you: and he was going through every little obstacle to get to you.

His fingertips began to thread around the little chain, consuming it within his first until only the little clasp was left to see. He could feel the charm leaving its print in the palm of his hand due to how hard he was squeezing the material, the pain was nothing compared to anything he had ever felt, but everything was nothing compared to losing you.

"it's one of us," Jeno told himself quietly, knowing very well someone - the culprit - could be listening from outside the door. His footsteps were loud as he approached the door and swung it open rather roughly which made it slam against the plain wall. The hallway didn't seem as empty as it always had been, perhaps because he knew someone had been in his room the moment he fell asleep.

A hesitant step was made, glancing right, and left to get a better view of the hall. Even though he couldn't see anyone, it was hard to convince himself that no one was here: the others could be in the main space or in their own rooms, perhaps even out of the house. But out or not: it was one of them.

With forty minutes left before the new mission meeting would start, Jeno dashed from his room to the common room, his head wildly spinning from one side to the other to get a glance of those that were in the room. After a brief glance, he had managed to count all twenty people that needed to be there but still, his eyes weren't able to detect the perpetrator.

"Something wrong?" Jaehyun asked, immediately receiving Jeno's eyes on him. Jaehyun looked as confident as usual, especially with the deck of cards in his hands like he was sure that he would win the game already. Around the same table as him sat Taeil, Mark, Hendery, and Doyoung waiting for the cards to be dealt. "You look as if you've been visited by a ghost" Hendery pointed out, laughing at his own words even though they weren't funny. "Grab a drink and join us, we're not playing for money this round" Taeil said after silencing Hendery's loud laughter by just giving him the slightest slap on his thighs.

Without responding, Jeno used his eyes to go over everyone once more before he turned away and went back in the direction of his room. Not one of them looked like they were capable of kidnapping you but at the same time they all looked like suspects in his eyes: the words Hendery said nearly made it sound as if he had been in the room, and Jaehyun's confident glance gave away a little too much pride. Members who hadn't said anything seemed a little too quiet to be innocent.

Jeno reached to his room again and sat back at the same spot where he found himself falling asleep earlier. The piece of jewelry tightly clutched in his hand as his mind was drifting towards you again, the pretty memories overshadowed by the feeling of betrayal. Twenty possibilities but who was the hidden cynosure?

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ (this involves a listing system with flashbacks so don't read if you don't want to)

Taeyong and Ten "It would be better if I was the leader," Ten said to Taeyong, a smirk on his lips as the younger boy provoked even more by sitting on top of the desk. His fingertips lingering over a couple of files that laid around, hoping to get burned before anyone would see them. "I don't think so, you'd kill one of us" Taeyong answered Ten, not caring if the words were straightforward, everyone knew it was the truth. Ten could kill either of them for the leading position, but in reality, all of them would. "At least I wouldn't withhold money as you do, Taeyong"

Taeil "I get the first shot, I'm the oldest" Taeil announced as shots were being poured into the tiny glasses, more than half of it spilling past the mini-glasses but everyone seemed to blind to notice. "So that's one of the benefits of being the oldest?" Xiaojun asked in a rather playful way, though was not prepared to receive the attention of a pair of serious eyes. "If you'd only know my benefits, you'd feel poor."

Johnny, Jaehyun, and Mark "Do you think we should mislead him?" Mark asked with a tiny devilish laugh as he looked at Doyoung in the distance. Jaehyun's half-smirk didn't disappoint, showing off his sweet dimples but the smirk was what made it mischievous "I think we should" he said to Mark but looked at Johnny. Johnny twirled the car keys around his finger while he listened, of course, he was willing to mislead Doyoung, anything so that it wasn't him who had to clean up the blood. "Get out. We're leaving."

Yuta "Do whatever you want, I don't want to be a part of this" Yuta said as he raised his hands, instead of surrender it was a sign of how he wasn't going to participate anymore. The body of a man who wasn't meant to be killed hanging over the table as his last breath had been let out minutes ago. Some furiously began to clean up the mess in order not to get caught, but Yuta only watched as everyone worried. He sat on his knees, picking up some fallen money and shoved them into his pocket behind everyone's back.

Kun and Renjun "Tell my parents that I'm dead," Renjun told Kun, his expression staying blank as he said the words. Kun shook his head almost right away, sighing in disappointment. "Why would I do that?" Kun asked, glancing around the room to see if anyone was around, no one seemed to be around but walls still had ears. "They have been calling me non-stop and they don't need to know I like killing people for a living!" Renjun exclaimed, nearly showing his phone to the older member but stopped himself as he didn't want to give too much private information. "You shouldn't like killing people, Renjun" Kun said, trying to keep his voice down as the light footsteps seemed to come closer to them. "You shouldn't either, yet you did it for fun before joining us, right?"

Doyoung, Jaemin, and Haechan How was it that Taeyong's office was opened in the early hours of the morning? Did he leave it behind like that after he drank too much and forgot about the secrets that he was supposed to keep? "Look at the money" Jaemin whispered as he pulled Haechan inside of the office without hesitation, the pink-haired boy saw no problem in going inside to take the money. "Doyoung?" Haechan asked with a smirk as he saw an older member being nosy, or more than that, taking the bills of money out of the desk drawers. "Aren't you supposed to share with us?" Haechan asked, faking more interest while he looked at Jaemin with a slight smirk. Caught in the act. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed, nosy kids?"

Winwin The gunshot made everyone in the scene look up, but Winwin didn't seem to catch their eyes, his attention was on the prey and the prey only. The young man that was barely older than him limping in any way that was free to go, but a hunter wouldn't let his prey escape, right? Another gunshot filled the silence of the room, blood splashing right before the man's body hit the dirty ground. "Winwin, stop," someone told him, but Winwin had no intention of stopping himself. He went up to his victim, kicking against his body before the third gunshot left its mark on the man's forehead.

Jungwoo and Jisung "How are we supposed to set this up, Jungwoo!" Jisung screamed worriedly as he looked at the scene in front of him. Used bullets covering the floor but no victim in sight, simply because the victim no longer was a victim after he ran from the scene. "I don't know, just make fake blood and tell Taeyong he's been killed!" Jungwoo said, his voice filled with worry but also disappointment in himself. Jisung was about to speak and tell Jungwoo it was an impossible idea, but before he could even start, Jungwoo had already laid a new idea upon the table "we'll just kill someone else"

Lucas and Yangyang "We could easily disappear now" Yangyang whisper-yelled to the other WayV member, the hideout quieter than ever before as they were the ones who stayed there to lead everything and watch over from their position at home. "And what? Let the others get killed in this mission and have no money. The one who survives will hunt us down" Lucas said back, trying to make Yangyang change his mind. Though the youngster was hard to convince when the genius ideas took up a certain amount of space in his brain. "Don't say you don't want to. You kill everyone and I take the money" Yangyang said, licking his lip as if the thought only made him horny. "How about you kill everyone and I take the money" Lucas answered.

Xiaojun and Chenle "Let's burn down these files," Chenle said as he collected all of the papers that he found, all files of people who had already been robbed from their existence in this life. Xiaojun gave Chenle a look and got up from the chair "hang on, I have something else that needs to get burned" he said as he quickly ran to his room, took the object he wanted erased and returned. A couple of minutes later the two of them stood by the fire, watching evidence burn. "So what did you throw in there? Chenle asked, curiosity taking him over. "Invisible ink, needed it once or twice" Xiaojun answered casually.

Hendery Hendery's gun was aimed at Ten, or more specifically at his head like he was about to end the man's career before it even reached its climax. "Do you wanna die?" he asked, his finger on the trigger which made Ten reach his hands up in surrender. The power that Hendery felt made him spin some degrees to end up at another possible victim "do you wanna die, hm?" he asked Mark, a maniacal laugh slipping past his lips as he was unable to hold himself back. Power was a great thing, was it not?

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"So in front of you, you will be able to see the new mission," Taeyong said as he motioned to the papers in front of every member, laid out unlike usual which made Jeno glance from bundle to bundle just to see if his was any different from the others.

Before falling out of tone, he held up the bundle of papers just like the others. He pretended to be interested in what he was reading, but his eyes not once read the text that was typed down in black syllables. Another sense of his was working hard on its job, despite the fact that it had to be hidden.

Invisible ink. Or at least the scent of invisible ink imprinted on the last page of the little bundle, probably the last page as it drew less attention than on the first one.

Everything Taeyong said went in one ear and came out of the other one, but this time Jeno was smart enough to sometimes reply with a hum, yes or no. From what he understood: there were no people that stayed at the hideout, no one to clean up the mission as it was too serious to waste time or leave members. A lot of money was promised, but only if the mission went exactly like it had been asked of them.

"When is the mission?" He heard Winwin ask Taeyong, the blonde-haired boy already mentally preparing for the fun he would have. Though at this moment it wasn't Winwin that Jeno suspected, suspect number one carried a different name.

Xiao Dejun

Why was Xiaojun his first suspect? Because he had seen Xiaojun burning the bottle of invisible ink together with Chenle. But Chenle didn't matter in the story as he hadn't been the one saying he used the bottle of invisible ink.

Jeno glanced at Xiaojun from time to time, each time his eyes got darker as he felt his heart beating faster. Luckily Xiaojun was too busy with pretending to listen to their leader, pretending, just like he seemed to pretend to be everyone's friend while he was the devil in disguise.

"Tomorrow," Taeyong said shortly, since it was included in the file and Taeyong wasn't the type to waste his time answering stupid questions. "But leave. I don't want to see any of you in this room, I have things to take care of" he said, urging everyone out by using his strict voice.

Without holding himself back, Jeno stood up from the chair and disappeared from the eyes of the others. The file was tightly gripped between his fingers, not noticing how he was crumpling the paper out of anger. Footsteps and voices followed behind him: he could recognize Lucas speaking Chinese to Hendery but had no idea what they were telling each other.

He quickly opened the door to his room, and as fast as possible slammed it shut once he was inside. It was as if outside his room a war was going on: all suspects but no one who dared to admit their deeds, despite doing it for a living pretty much. His mind traveled further, to the point where he started to imagine all twenty members being against him and coming up with the plan to kidnap you. Though, he still had some trust in a few of them… his dream team belonging to those few.

A couple of minutes later, Jeno found himself in his bedroom, reading the message that had been written over the last page of the bundle. It was faint but Jeno could see it clearer than it actually was. The set of numbers was not just a set or a code to decipher, it was a phone number presented to him. It had the same amount of numbers as a phone number and started with the right combination to belong to the country.

Jeno dropped the papers on the bed and frantically began to look for his phone. The sheets on the bed getting messier with each rough roam his hand did around the limited space. "Fuck" he cursed silently as he remembered, and not a second after, fished his phone out of his back pocket.

The faint number had stopped showing itself but Jeno needed no reminder, his memory was still fresh despite the many thoughts ghosting through his mind. His fingertips pressed each digit carefully, almost making sure that there was no chance to make a mistake in the phone number. Lastly, his finger hit the call button before he tightly pressed the phone against his ear.

"…Jeno"

Your voice made Jeno sit up straight even though in nervousness, he stood up from the bed, ready to come and get you wherever you were at this moment. He nearly forgot that you were kidnapped and unable to randomly leave whenever you wanted, even though, it had never been confirmed someone kidnapped you.

"y/n, it's me, Jeno" he whispered into the phone, using his second hand to shield over the phone. One of his feet kept on turning from left to right as the bundle of nerves in his stomach was slowly getting bigger, it was already a good thing it couldn't explode.

He listened to your breathing while you listened to the sound of his voice and cherished it for the shortest seconds in your lifetime. "Jeno, I'm sorry" you whispered silently into the phone, it seemed like you were close to the phone one second but further away from it the next, so, Jeno could guess that you were shaking and unable to control your voice. "Don't be sorry y/n, you're going to be fine. I'm going to come and get you once I figure out where you are" he said to you, trying to calm his voice so that you would calm down as well.

"You have to do something for me. There's a mission" you said to his surprise, another mission, the sound of that only made him more nervous as there were once again chances that he would fail. No one told him what it meant if they failed, but there was that little ugly spark that told him exactly what would happen if he did. "What is it?" he asked, taking a deep breath to prepare himself.

"You have to…." you started but halted before you said anything more, the words getting stuck at the tip of your tongue. You wanted to say them but you could feel the guilt washing over yourself before you were even able to pronounce the name of the person that would be dead within days. "You have to kill Taeyong."

Jeno swallowed thickly when he heard what mission number two would involve. His ears heard it right as the voice in his mind was able to repeat the words over and over again until the name Taeyong would no longer exist in his mind. "Taeyong?" he asked you softly, keeping his voice as quiet as possible just in case someone was listening from the next room or just out the door. Perhaps Taeyong was the kidnapper and just wanted to see who Jeno would choose for at the end of the story.

You let out a soft noise as a sign he was right when he said Taeyong. Jeno knew you were selfless enough to think that they should kill you instead of Taeyong, but also knew you deserved another chance to live which was why you didn't tell him to choose Taeyong.

"Who did this y/n? You have to tell me everything you know" Jeno asked, he had no idea if his previous guesses were genuine. By now, he had already suspected everyone at least once, but he couldn't put the label on when he couldn't even guess properly who was capable of doing something like that. "D-did you hear me wrong?! I said kill Taeyong, not Taeil, not Jaehyun. Between. Between now and tomorrow" your voice stuttered over each word that passed your lips, clearly, this wasn't your original message.

Jeno was quiet for a little while, to let the words sink in, yet, he couldn't help but hear footsteps on your side of the line. The shaky breaths you let out against the phone, making it clear someone was around you, and that someone was monitoring your words. "Between?" he asked silently, praying the speaker wasn't on so that it was only you who heard him instead of one of the twenty possible options he had in his head. "Exactly," you said back to him, almost letting out a sigh of relief when your hint had been successfully delivered to him.

"Listen to me y/n. I will get you out of there, I will do anything to save you" Jeno said in a softer voice, knowing now that the message had been delivered, there wasn't much time left for you to talk to him. He wanted to continue speaking to you for hours, but he was wise enough to know how time was money, and in this case, time was a bigger chance to lose focus and get caught. "Be safe" you whispered soft, tears were streaming down your cheeks as a gun was placed against the side of your head, it cost you a lot to not scream and get killed that second.

"Always" Jeno whispered back into the phone, hearing how you were crying silently from the way you said the words. He wished he could embrace you and tell you that all was over, or better, that all had been a bad dream. Though he could pinch his skin over and over again, and open his eyes in the same dimension. His mouth opened to speak again, but the abrupt beeping tone made him close it again.

Not Taeil, not Jaehyun.

Between.

Suspect count: six

sɥɔǝs

4:59 am

A sleepless night and yet Jeno found himself being filled to the brim with adrenaline and nerves, more than energetic, he was left restless after what happened some hours ago.

Jeno would lie if he said that his mind had ever stopped producing thoughts in the past hours, the thoughts only doubled themselves until he went over every possible suspect and worked out a fitting theory for them. But outside of the possible suspects, there was also the fact he was going to shoot a bullet through the skull of the person that gave him a new chance in life. Lee Taeyong.

He forgot for a moment between his six suspects, there was also the leader he was so fond of, that exact same person that gave him his life here. If he killed Taeyong, what was going to happen to NCT? What would happen to each one of them? They were nothing without Taeyong, despite WayV leader Kun's presence.

His thoughts momentarily got killed when the office door opened and after a second was slammed shut once again. What followed after were Taeyong's footsteps going through the common room and towards the door that led outside, darkness out the hideout made his plan entirely possible right now.

Jeno was silent enough as he followed behind Taeyong, knowing the older male wouldn't have one single idea that someone was keeping up with the pace of his footsteps. The walk outside began to get darker with each step further from the hideout: darker because of what was going to happen but at the end of the tunnel, there was a light that would lead Jeno to find you again.

The thought of finding you seemed to speed up the pace of his footsteps, or perhaps it was because he saw Taeyong sneaking between a small street that had old buildings on either side. The dark figure of Taeyong was still easy for Jeno to recognize, though easy to recognize didn't make him an easy target. Together with Ten, Taeyong was one of the better people in his profession, followed up by Jisung who had the skills but had too much of a soft heart to eliminate people from the earth.

A tiny grin was hidden on Taeyong's lips, his tongue running past his lower lip as the sudden catch and shoot game revolved around him as the head character. How did he figure out Jeno was behind him? Simple. There had been twenty pairs of shoes at the door whilst no one had left the house, and then again, which loser that wanted to play a game like this left the light in the common room on at that hour of the day?

Taeyong's feet quickened once again, the straight street making it easier for him to get lost in the darkness like he was an almost invisible shadow on the cold ground. Not even two meters away was his little game buddy: nearly like they were sitting next to each other in the PC room, two different views in one single game.

Though Jeno was left one step behind as the narrow street no longer seemed to give him little hints on where Taeyong was, absorbed in the darkness which almost made it seem as if he was alone here if it weren't for the strong presence that Taeyong left behind wherever he went.

Jeno quickly moved further into the little path he knew Taeyong followed, a mix of emotions filling his heart but no space to let it out in this narrow place. His fingertips wrapped around the gun that he had been hiding in his coat pocket, and with one little finger flick, the safety barrier was now turned off. His only worry: where was Taeyong?

"What game are we playing, Jeno?"

Two pairs of footsteps came to halt right at the same moment, a crossover making it seem like two cars wanting to go over the intersection at the same time, and neither of them were playing it fair.

Jeno thickly tried to swallow away the bundle of nerves he had, his hands gripping tighter in the pocket of his coat, his index finger on the trigger as still, he was prepared to play the game until he made it to the finish.

"I don't think we're playing here," Jeno said as he slapped away Taeyong's hand that was dangerously close to his shoulder. Though his hand retrieved as soon as a sharp object came in contact with the tender skin, the cold metal only meant one thing: a knife.

Jeno slowly turned his head to the right to see Taeyong standing there, the knife in his hand paying a little bit too much attention to the exposed bit of skin on his collarbone. "That was still tolerable for a first hit, right?" Taeyong asked, the grin on his face never disappearing. Jeno had to keep in a wince: feeling the blood seep from his hand onto the ground, the contrast of the warm blood running over his cold fingers only made his head spin more. "I don't think you know what tolerable is, how would you know? You kill people for a living" pushed past his lips, mentally hitting himself in the face to keep him from getting distraught by the thought of you or the wound on his hand.

"And you do? If I'm correct you're the one who came with a plan to kill y/n's ex and never told her about that dirty little secret. I bet guilt never tasted as sweet as when the bullet hit his non-existent heart" Taeyong pointed out, his tongue running over his teeth as he was trying to make his words more intense. Now that Taeyong said the words, Jeno felt the bittersweet lies on the tip of his tongue. The only gunshots that were memorable to him, combined with the facial expressions of your ex as soon as he knew his end was near, the way he didn't smile in the end which only brought more peace to Jeno's mind at that time. "I didn't kill him for the laughs, I did it for y/n" he protested before Taeyong could continue to dig into the past, a past where there were more truths than lies, at least that was when Taeyong did the digging. "Ah, I get it. You did it for the money so that you could buy y/n the necklace, paid by the money of her ex… You're right, that's real love"

Jeno's hand moved as he tightly gripped the gun and pulled it from his pocket. "I'm sorry Taeyong, I'm going to eliminate you," he said, his words faster than his actions as his finger managed to quiver over the trigger whilst he brought the gun up towards his leader. A loud laugh left Taeyong's lips, the heel of the knife hitting against the gun as a sign there was no way the gun was going to get unloaded by the end of the little game. "Why is that? Out of all twenty possibilities, you choose me?" he asked a little more seriously than before.

The tip of the knife pushed against Jeno's exposed collarbone, drilling into the skin before the younger male had a chance to stop his leader. "Say it" Taeyong spat out, his eyes getting wider as he saw a wound under the tip of the knife. The cold caress wasn't going to end anytime soon if Jeno kept his lips pursed like that. "I'm going this for y/n," Jeno said, his lips no longer pursed which made a wince leave his lips before he could stop himself. Why did this hurt more than getting shot by the enemy?

"True, I nearly forgot, that makes it tolerable"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Unknown [ 9 : 42 pm ] : failed

Jeno's eyes were greeted with the six lettered word on his iPhone display, after exactly fifteen seconds the word said goodbye and faded out on the screen. The tight grip on his phone seemed to fade along with the brightness until the little device made a soft landing on his lap.

He ran his fingertips through his black hair, all possible scenarios colliding in his mind, but there was no conclusion to take at the end of the day.

After the early encounter with Taeyong, his suspect count had gone down to five. There was no way Taeyong could be a suspect: who would ask to get killed by a younger person, especially the leader of the gang. It was like he scribbled over Taeyong's name in his mind and didn't bother looking at the scribbles once more.

Without realizing, his fingertips went up to his neck, ignoring the plaster-covered wound on his collarbone as he delicately touched the necklace around his neck.

His fingertips caressed over the little charm dangling from the silver chain, feeling the initials of your name but also his own name at the back of it. Love gifted to you with money from your ex-boyfriend, he no longer could deny Taeyong was wrong when he said those words earlier.

Next to the chain was the ring he had given you with a promise, his own ring as it didn't feel like you. It felt like his ring, that he simply gave to you together with a promise he couldn't keep. His finger slid between the silver but pulled back before it could steadily test around his finger.

Unknown [ 10 : 08 pm ] : immediately

The phone lit up again as soon as the same number sent another text to Jeno's number. This time Jeno didn't hold the phone in his hand while reading it, from his lap, he had an excellent view over the text even though he didn't want to see it.

Before the standard fifteen seconds were over, his phone's brightness decided to stay together with a new message addressed towards him. This time more than one word, more than just stupid pieces that didn't bring him closer to you.

An address.

Jeno glanced at the time on his phone and let out a sigh as he realized this was the moment he had to choose: D-day which basically was a mission where a lot of money was involved together with the entire team, or saving you from the hands of one of those teammates. How was he even meeting up with one of them when not even in an hour, they had to be at a completely different location for the endgame.

He stood up from the bed and immediately started to collect a heap of objects he could possibly use in this momentum. A gun without silencer as he was done with little games, his phone just in case he would receive more hints than just the address, and of course his usual coat that would somehow have to replace a bulletproof vest.

Cynosure

His footsteps were loud as he ran from his room into the common room, barely put on his combat boots, and with a loud slam left the hideout.

He didn't even notice how his team members had been staring at him as if he was a fool, but no one was willing to help a fool. Though rather than not willing, it was the case of not being able to as Jeno hadn't shared the context with anyone.

The person who knew the most was walking amongst them, and surely that person wasn't lenient enough to help him.

"Where is he going?" Jungwoo asked as he sipped from his late-night coffee, knowing there was not one chance to yawn during the upcoming hours. The sweet taste of sugar in coffee made him blind to the bitter situation his younger member found himself in. A dart was thrown between Jungwoo and Doyoung who was about to reply, hitting the board with a light thud. "Going to y/n, get some dick before we get our victory," Haechan said as a giggle pushed past his lips, eyes never breaking contact with the dart that found itself pinned right in the middle of the board.

"he knows the rule: if he doesn't participate. More money for the rest"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The soles of Jeno's shoes seemed to get worn out a lot faster than usual, these days he seemed to live in the black pair of combat boots. But today they felt exceptionally worn out compared to yesterday.

The combat boots helped him to run through narrow streets. Streets he had never seen even though he found his way through them with ease. Both left and right seemed to end up in the same streets if it weren't for the little name tags and numbers upon the brick walls of the building.

His footsteps faded out as he tried to pause his running. His breathing deep even though he wasn't out of breath or tired from running. His eyelids covered his brown eyes as he tried to recall the address in his mind, even though he was sure he knew, he wasn't confident in trusting himself.

Silently and without a word, he repeated the address inwardly. Once. Twice. And when he lost count because he was so focused, he knew he could continue with his mission.

He picked up his pace again, needing only a couple of seconds before he was at his maximum speed once again. His eyes wildly drifting to everything suspicious around him: every little letter on white tags and every number next to a door. Wasting time was something he didn't do when the first few letters didn't match with the address in his head, he no longer would spend time on it.

It was like he was running through a maze where every little path ended up somewhere in the middle of nowhere. His feet were finally starting to get tired and painful from the neverending fight against time and a stranger that actually was his teammate.

Jeno ran past another little path, scanning the surroundings rather than the tag that was right in front of his eyes. As soon as he wanted to look in front of him again to continue, his eyes met the name from up close. Two steps passed the little street, his feet came to an abrupt halt.

This was it.

The tip of his shoe was dragged against the ground whilst taking a step back towards the little street to his left. The big two steps from seconds ago, became small and slow steps to make himself more camouflaged in the darkness.

He turned his body to the street before he was able to take his first step towards the new path. The repetitive setting staring at him as he felt like the main character, especially when his eyes didn't meet with any of the suspects.

"I'm here, what do you want from me!?" Jeno shouted loudly as his first step forward happened right in the middle of his sentence. His eyes didn't see anyone around, yet, he had yelled out to anyone willing to hear him.

This time it wasn't him getting stared at, his eyes moving clockwise around his surroundings. The houses that seemed to be evenly abandoned like the others, the shards of glass lying on the ground between the cobblestones, the bags of trash collected against one home which made the smell less than pleasant.

Why was he alone?

After hesitating due to his thoughts for half a minute, he started the path further into the street. The stench of the bags of filth filling his nostrils more and more with each step that he took.

It was like the odor took over more than half of the thoughts in his mind. The thoughts he had disappearing rather than being replaced by other thoughts.

Your fragrance.

Jeno swallowed away the fictitious thoughts until the odor solemnly remained.

His nose attempted to identify the strange mix of scents unknowingly. His footsteps following the progress by taking tiny steps towards the place where the scent was only getting stronger.

A molecule of your fragrance contested with the unfamiliar but unpleasant odor as he got closer to the bags of trash. The stench seemed to lose its battle as Jeno limited himself to the molecule of you around him.

Other senses helped him to find more particles of you: his hands spread in order to feel something in case you were close, his ears ready to focus on the sound of your voice, his eyes moving from spot to spot.

You were the cynosure.

His vision stopped at a low point that seemed to catch his eye due to the little details that didn't match with similar positions. Between the different colored trash bags, he could see a white piece of fabric sticking out slightly.

Kneeling down, Jeno started to investigate the piece of fabric from up close. Luckily the ground managed to keep him steady upon seeing the little droplet splattered on the white fabric.

The droplet of blood on the Virgin-white piece of clothing.

As used as Jeno was to blood and gore, he found himself staring at the wet patch for a couple of seconds. Fragments of time seemed to travel through his mind, taking him to one specific moment.

The time the two of you woke up together, his blood resting between both of you after he got wounded during one of his tasks.

This time, the blood wasn't his.

His fingertips no longer delicately wanted to touch the piece of evidence. Instead, his hands started to roughly move the trash bags out of the way.

His fingers were hurting from the dirt they pushed aside but it didn't stop him from moving the last few to the middle of the street. For some reason, his eyes hadn't seen the slow reveal that happened with the removal of each bag, perhaps because he feared what hid underneath them.

On the other hand, his eyes had no choice but to watch the result unveiled. A lump of air got trapped in his throat when the sight wasn't what he predicted.

Around him, the world continued to spin and he felt dizzy living in that frame of time. Together with the rest of his body, his skin felt numb to the salty tear that fell from his eyes and onto his cheek.

"y/n" Jeno whispered as his hands roughly grabbed your white-clothed shoulders, shaking them which only gave him a fabricated response.

Seconds silently ticked by as Jeno waited, or hoped for a short response to push itself past your lips. His hands remained upon your shoulders as he waited, the grip tightening with each second that ticked by. "y/n c'mon" he nearly begged, the last bit of hope soon making space for grief.

A loud wail left Jeno's lips as you had no response to give. Your lips parted but not one word escaped from them, yet, Jeno continued to stare at them as if you would move them to speak any second.

"I'm so sorry" Jeno whispered through the sobs that left his lips, making the words incomprehensible as they had to make space for his emotions. His hands were no longer tightly attached to your lifeless body, instead, he found his fingertips trembling inches away from your face. Too scared to caress the face he had kissed hundreds of times.

His head hung low, allowing the tears to fall onto the dry ground. A cough left his lips once he managed to catch a glimpse of the large red spot that coated the upper half of your heavenly-white outfit, under the lace he could see how the elegant prints had been colored in by your blood. Despite dry heaving, he held the coughs quiet, giving his cries the full freedom.

Your fingertips that seemingly were holding onto something non-existent were resting in the middle of your lap, placed like an old doll. Jeno took your hand in his, ignoring the liquid that was no dripping between the connection you two had. He brought your hand up to his face, making it rest against his warm cheek as he continued to free his emotions from their cage.

"y/n" Jeno whispered quietly, your fingertip brushing against his upper lip as he quietly moved your fingertips to place them where he would want to feel your love. The way your thumb would move over his upper lip and slowly run over his cupid's bow in the process. His lip pouted merely, pressing a little piece of affection upon your cold skin. "Sorry for not being able to keep the promise" he whispered to you, swallowing as he felt the silver chain of the necklace nearly burning through the pockets of his pants.

He pulled out the little piece of jewelry, staring at it with hatred in his eyes. How could a stupid piece of jewelry ruin his beautiful moment with you? His view changed as he remembered the ring was his promise to you, held in his hand as it gave him a chance to make a new and lasting promise.

"always" Jeno whispered, remembering quite a few times where he had used the word to indicate that he would be safe, and each of those times always took the second meaning that he would come back to you. He detached the ring from the necklace, holding it between his thumb and index finger. Delicately, he slid the ring back onto your finger, sealing the promise with the gesture.

Tears fell from his eyes, cleaning away bits of your blood away from his cheek. Blood could be washed away, but pain couldn't. Around the heart filled with love, a layer of pain had coated itself.

Always.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Unknown [ 10 : 58 pm ] : game over?

Jeno furiously wiped under his swollen eyes as the brightness made him incompetent to read the message that had been sent to him. Though rather than retrieving his eyesight, he got rid of dried-up tears upon his skin.

His eyes read over the two simple words that formed an unneeded question together. In his eyes, it was obvious that the little game had been played, and he was chosen as a first place in being a loser. His game had cost him more than his life was worth, and no matter what price he paid, there was no second chance in which he could prove he deserved to win.

That's when real life and memories started to collide again in his head, not like they did before by ruining him even more, but by realistically telling him there was a mission to finish. D-day was what they called it, and now he realized why it was named that beforehand.

His exhausted pair of feet continued a further unknown trail once more. Silently, he called himself crazy for doing this after what happened, but it felt like a dedication to you... Even though the knife of hope, had already gone through his heart to tell him off.

A couple of minutes after his watch had announced eleven hours passed noon and one hour before midnight, he found himself in the unknown place. The oversized garage door merely opened, but he still managed to crawl underneath it until it left a little tear in his jeans.

It was still around him, no voices that would usually shout at one another for the next stage to finally start. Jeno looked around, trying to be noiseless as he walked further into the seemingly empty storehouse. It was Yuta's long hair that managed to catch his eyes first, but once he looked past that, he noticed the circle his members were positioned in.

Jeno took an unexpected step towards his members, causing someone to uncover himself from behind the large columns. The stranger wearing a combat helmet together with a completely matched black outfit underneath, yet, the black lettering on the uniform gave away that they were faced with authorities.

Within seconds, a dart was tossed towards the police. Jeno was quick to move due to his reflexes but noticed the person that was meant to get hit, wasn't so lucky. The first gesture set the rest into action as more police members revealed themselves from hidden positions, making eyes of the NCT gang widen at the unannounced reveal of the authority.

Gunshot

Jeno's eyes were quick to follow even if he wasn't able to see the bullet until it had been planted in the enemy's shoulder, yet, he turned back to Chenle and smirked at him as praise. His own gun safely stored the pockets of his outer layer of clothing, his hand already on the trigger for the moment he had to pull it out.

Bullets seemed to fly around everyone, lacing them in a spiderweb that they could hardly escape as every bullet was aimed towards one of them. Though, bullets didn't plant themselves in his skin when he moved around just like everyone else did.

"Taeil!" Jungwoo's voice echoed through the hall as his soft voice was suddenly louder than ever before. The tall boy dragged his older friend towards the nearest wall but was instantly killed by a bullet going through his vital organs. His body falling right over Taeil's as the two first victims were eliminated by the enemy.

Jeno barely heard what was happening over the noises around him, he had heard Jungwoo's cry for Taeil but his eyes hadn't picked up how his clan now existed of fewer people than before. He pulled Jaemin aside roughly, shooting at an officer who immediately landed on the ground seconds after the shot was fired.

Right in the middle of the place, between large columns and higher placed people, Jisung found himself crouching over his best friend Chenle. Tears pooling in his eyes, but before they fell, it was his body that hit the ground.

"Shit, Jisung is down." Jeno heard in the background as he looked towards Renjun who was torn between his two youngest friends or continuing to fight for whatever was left. He was about to move to the center to get to the two boys, but it was Lucas who took over the job. Unfortunately for the team, temporary informant Renjun had lost the battle when his eyes had lost focus of what the mission really was.

Jeno rested his back against the column, his eyes taking a little too long to figure out who was going to be his next target. The role of one of his possible targets had been swapped around, as one second later, a gun was aimed at him. His hands reached up in the air, shakily trying to keep himself steady against the column. "Sorry" he mumbled but his voice easily disappeared between the bullets and shouts of other members. His fingers already went up to his shirt before the bullet was planted on the left side of his body, immediately coating his black clothes with a layer of blood.

A cough left his lips, immediately triggering his gag reflex as a spoonful of blood dangled down his parted lips. He slumped down against the column despite his fingertips trying to scratch the material in order to keep him standing. His head was pounding, between all of the sounds around him, he faintly managed to hear you telling him to be safe.

Always.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Monochrome

One shade of black, one tint of white, ten different palettes filled with grey. That was what Jeno's eyes detected when they opened for what seemed like the first time in months. He could only state in front of him, the surroundings not revealing themselves as their dull colors refused to show him what was going on.

An unexpected grunt slipped past his lips when he tried to set his body straight against the cold support in his back. That's when the pain had announced itself and he finally became more aware of the things around him. His hands were coated in blood, as red as love was supposed to represent.

Red was the first real color his eyes saw at that moment, turning the pallette of grey into a never-ending set of colors samples when he looked up from his hand and to the open space around him. His lips held a silent sound of surprise back when the colorized truth came to life.

Exactly nineteen of his teammates on the floor, recognizable by their hair colors, facial features, or body types. A few other bodies scattered around, people who didn't know but were hidden behind protective helmets in order to keep their identity safe. He could see Taeyong lying on the floor, facing him and his eyes were still opened like he was staring into the soul of his younger member.

Jeno licked over his lower lip, unexpectedly drawing in the taste of blood with his actions. His mouth already had an odd taste but knowing the red liquid was covering his tastebuds made him spit it out. The remains ending up right at the corner of his lips, not further than where it had been seconds ago.

"Thought your heart would have been crushed by now," A voice said which made Jeno look up, his eyes weakly scanning the person in front of him even if he could recognize the voice without seeing him. He swallowed thickly, struggling as the metallic taste of blood was pulled further into his body. His lips slowly parted again, some dried blood hidden within the cracks of his lips. Words were mouthed, not spoken as not one sound broke through the momentum.

Instead of speaking, Jeno weakly presented his gun, holding it up a few centimeters as he was too weak to hold it higher. The meaning behind the gesture was unclear, even for himself: did he give himself over to the game, did he want to live in peace and willingly lost because of it?

The older man kneeled in front of him slowly when he saw the gesture Jeno made, seeing it as an offer even though it was a perfect opportunity. Because as the unspoken rule said, who participated got more than the others: and he was the only participant left.

Beneath the black unbuttoned shirt, Jeno could see the bulletproof vest upon his skin. A simple trick that twenty other people had forgotten about despite it being something classic in the world that they lived in.

"any last words?" He asked Jeno, turning the gun around in his hand so that it was aiming at Jeno. Whilst he waited for Jeno to answer the question, his hand helped the gun to find the right angle. Jeno didn't even notice how his hand was lifted up and wrapped around the gun, his index finger resting upon the trigger.

Be safe

"Always" Jeno silently said as his tired eyes stared at the man who once was his friend. Jeno felt a finger over resting over his, immediately feeling the tension if the trigger getting more intense. But gave himself over to the feeling before it even came.

Images of you flashed through Jeno's mind as he tried to find relief in his future, a future he didn't have unless it was with you somewhere in a dream in a dream. Unknowingly his eyes went over the number and name engraved on the gun, yet, in his mind, he read the numbers of your anniversary and your name right next to it.

Gunshot

The cynosure of no eyes was left standing alone between dead bodies, the gun dropping on the ground as he stood up and gracefully walked away from the game he finished playing. Gameover.

960201, Kim Doyoung

Author’s note:

Helloah, you have reached the end of cynosure! I hope you liked the fic despite the perhaps sad ending (I didn’t cry). I decided to write this in celebration of 5K followers: thank you for 5k, it seriously means a lot to me to know that people like my writing and look forward to reading it!

Anyway. I hope you liked cynosure and if you have any feedback/questions about the fic, I’ll gladly respond <3

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 5)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 4.1

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Cirilla and Geralt has gotten into a big fight. Thus, leading to you learning more about witchers and having a soft spot for his child of surprise.

Warnings: Angsty? Kinda? Cirilla's having an emotional breakdown. Geralt being one stern dad and kinda mean? Jaskier being talkative in the wrong times. You being confused at everything. Boner references? HAHAHAHAH.

Words: 5,600+

A/N: You're going to kind of hate Geralt on the next chapter. I can tell. Hehehe? Or maybe noooot? Next chapter will be interesting for me! I think? Heehee! There’s going to be plot hints as well on the next chapter! THANK YOUUUUUU!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Seeing the satisfaction of people smiling and humming to the food you cook was a great feeling for a person who loved cooking. Gratification would be an understatement for the feeling you were having as you've watched Ciri and Jaskier munch down on the viands you've poured your heart with.

As per usual, Geralt was only humming in satisfaction after all of his and Jaskier's attempt on making edible food. Sometimes it isn't, sometimes it is. But, most of the time; it was inedible to be eaten.

Ciri was moaning out her extreme satisfaction. Vigorously devouring the Fried Chicken like she had beeb famished for at least a year. Crumbs of the breading scattered all over her mouth and face as she scratched her forehead with the back of her soiled hand.

"How's the chicken, Ciri?"

Dishes clanging and food were being munched in the background. You swallowed your food first before asking the princess.

"Better than ever," she incoherently mumbled. Mouth filled with food as she slightly coughed from not chewing it well as she swallowed.

The bard seemed to have accepted the fact that Kolby was sitting on the far end of the kitchen, eyes twinkling for food to be thrown to him. Though, he was still being ignored by Jaskier as if he weren't in the room; probably just stingy and disturbed for his presence, "This soup is delightful!"

Jaskier waved the bone of his chicken in the air like a flag. Turning his head to look at Geralt who was silently eating his food with an apathetic expression of his that was normal for the man. "Geralt," the bard called out for the latter. "Hmm," the witcher tiredly hummed in response, "We need some ale! Please tell me you've bought one when we've last visited the marketplace,"

You've bit the tendons of your chicken. Kolby has caught your attention as he was staring out of hunger. Again. You've reached out for the grapes that sat in front of you and grabbed onto half the stem before snapping it. Throwing the fruit towards the Hirikka as it caught it with his adorable paws.

"Moop!" Kolby answered as a thank you. A very weird, high pitch sound that disturbed you at first when you heard his voice but slowly and surely getting the hang of hearing it when he was happy, sad, guilty or anything he feels.

"I've finished it all," Geralt mumbled after a second of swallowing his food.

"Oh, you drunkard!"

You've snapped your head at the bard, lower lip jutting out as you were deep in your thoughts. Your head turning as you studied your unfinished chicken.

"I can make one," you blurted out loud to Jaskier's interest, "I've studied culinary enough to make my own wine and beer or ale in this old time,"

His lips formed in an 'O' shape, entirely elated at the skills you've opted. A grin as wide as the Cheshire cat when he'd shook his head out of stupefaction.

"I am certainly wrong in calling you a rat," he gave you a boyish smile before looking at the ceilings; acting like he was talking to God, "You are one of the gods sent from above, Y/N!"

The witcher stopped chewing halfway to give you his attention before he carry on with his devouring and eyed the bard who was mischievously grinning at the bear of a man.

"Geralt here has his ears clapping because you know how to make ale," he gestured to Geralt with a newly taken chicken in the middle of the wooden table, "---now, we can seldomly visit the inns for our brotherly whereabouts or the brothels for your midnight pleasure with your whores---" the devious bard was cut off when Geralt breathed in deep and scolded him with a monotonous pitch. "Jaskier,"

Jaskier winked back at him, now moitioning for what was hidden below his pants; a hasty ridicule sent, "Don't want me stating the stiff of a bird howling out of its nest or your twig-n-berries because Y/N here has mentioned that she knows how to make ale!"

Jaskier was unaware of his hands that was flat on the table. With his fingers widely flattened and having spaces in between. He was utterly frightened when Geralt has brutally stabbed in between the spaces of it with a bread knife he never used; leaving Jaskier stammering like he'd been castrated.

"Ge--Geralt!"

You've gave them a double-take, blinking from Geralt's hostlity and his patience snapping out of a sudden. He was glaring at the bard but Jaskier was already swallowing his saliva and disgustingly coughing out bits of chicken and soup; leaving bits to spill on the sides of his mouth as he shockingly stared at the knife close to his fingers.

"Are they always slitting each other's throats?" you thought out loud, continuing your indulgement. The question sent to the Ashen princess.

"I'm afraid so," Cirilla shrugged as a matter of fact; ignoring Geralt's patience suddenly snapping; like it was their normal.

Cirilla has studied your clothes as you sat and ate silently. The both of you ignoring Jaskier's complaints about how Geralt was close to stabbing his fingers that give people; out of this world epics. It was the fingers that holds a lute which can change the witcher's name and the world. The bard continued raving out as Geralt resumed eating silently with Jaskier bombarding his peace.

"Y/N?" The pretty child called out of curiosity, "---You need clothes!" she continued with a point to your clothing. Her nose scrunching in distaste, "---Proper clothes and not ginormous clothes from Geralt,"

From the mention of his name, the man himself glanced at your direction and scooped the last drop of his soup; eyeing you both in wonder.

"We need to visit Babeth again! I want to buy Y/N a dress," Cirilla gave her best pleading eyes. The meaning of her words have another meaning as well. She probably also wanted to play with some teens she could meet out in the marketplace or if she could play with her best friend named 'Ethelia' whenever they had their weekly visit.

You responded rather hurriedly, shaking your head as you've finished your last piece of chicken; chewing the skin as you left it for your last bite to thoroughly satiate the taste, "Oh, you don't have to because I don't like dresses---"

The princess pouted before you, currently dismayed by your response, "But, you can't leave the house with just Geralt's under-Tunic! People will be looking at you strangely! Very out of the ordinary compared to the women wearing thick, warm dresses," she explained with that puppy eyes she'd been an expert in.

Cirilla was drinking her soup from the rim of the bowl in haste before dropping it with a thud. She leaned her elbows on the table, her eyes twinkling with hope as she gave Geralt the look that gets him to always say yes; all the darn time.

He didn't hate it with Cirilla. The Witcher hated it whenever it was you because he didn't think he would ever get to not say no to another person like a child with puppy eyes. What was even worse was that you weren't even a child and you were having your way that he'd even agreed on having a Hirikka in his home just like a pet.

Perhaps, he was actually short of a marble.

"Can we go to the marketplace and visit Babeth please, Geralt? You've earned enough coins to build this small house! I wanna buy Y/N clothes to wear and make her feel comfortable," she exclaimed eagerly like a child wanting for a field trip.

Geralt gave her a languid blink before studying you who sat beside Cirilla. You've given him a smile when your eyes connected; feeling all tingly on the inside. That overwhelming warmth that makes your face feel mellow with tingly insides.

The Witcher only hummed with an impassive appearance. Last time, they've gotten the chance to visit the marketplace; Jaskier was drunk and had to bed a seller in exchange for a tunic he wanted or maybe he'd just wanted her after letting a man who he had his eyes on and is as youthful as him; run away with a knight who had been drinking back in the tavern. He was probably frustrated and glum after what has happened.

Albreda was beautiful and as sexy as a fox. So, it was also a win-win situation for the bard despite of how he lost to a knight from the castle of Kaedwan. In comparison, what can his lute even do to a sword?

The young princess notice Geralt's neutral response. Never knowing if it was a yes or a big no. She puffed out a breath; slipping her fingers under her thighs as she sat on her chair when she'd hollered for the bard's attention, making him snap out of his prattles, "Jaskier, please tell Geralt that Y/N needs a set of normal clothes for her to wear!"

You smiled; completely unnerving as you wanted to repeal from the offer at hand. Jaskier gave out a hum and a quick nod was simultaneously sent when he did as he dropped the empty bone on his plate with a loud cling. "Alright, alright. I'll give a quarter of coins for Y/N,"

"See! Jaskier approves!"

The quiet witcher bluntly spoke with a rasp after he drank his water; glowering as he drank from his cup, "He doesn't even have the coins to buy his own tunic,"

Jaskier looked at him; faking the offence. Geralt gave him a shrug of his shoulders and a cocky slant of his head from the reaction.

The bard ignored the reiteration; which was a first time for everything and leaned forward on his chair, folding his arms as it rested on the table. Remembering an offer brought to him by one of the villagers back in Durriken's Tavern, "---I've heard the villagers asking for a witcher's help again,"

Jaskier clicked his tongue as he pondered, the crease of his forehead growing deeper in thought, "---Preferrably the butcher of Blaviken," pause. "The first hunt that they wanted was a Bloedzuiger, this was offered by Babeth herself because her husband has seen one in the swamps," he gestured with his index finger pointing on the ceiling like an 'you know' gesture.

Thus, the bard gestured with an 'a-okay' sign with his fingers like he was pertaining to coins as he explained further, "---Second is an Echinops with a lot more coins involved, considering the stories; it is said that its difficult to slay because it can only be seen in places where crimes have been committed or the graves of the dead. But, this was offered near Vizima. Thoroughly far. We have yet to travel,"

You had no idea what they were saying. Your narrowed eyes says so as you stared at them both. A what? you thought inside your head. A bulldozer? Itchynuts? What is it that Geralt does in his everyday life? Does he really slaughter beasts as a job like it was normal in their world?

You were completely an embodiment of curiosity and bafflement. There was a lot of knowledge that has entered your brain since that night but it seems like it wasn't enough. You needed more idea as to what was running in their world. Sad to say, the monsters were even running freely for Geralt who seemed to be needed for a kill.

Cirilla had a frown twisting her face. She'd exhaled; loud enough for the three of you to look at her as she called out for the man who sat across from her. "Geralt," and the witcher only gave a hum as a response. He knew what she was going to say and Jaskier's timing was the worst thing in the world that could happen.

"You're going? Again? I thought you were going to leave the beasts alone when you've realized that people are more evil instead?"

The latter couldn't help but give Jaskier the nastiest scowl he could offer. If anything, he wanted to throw Jaskier in a lake full of bathing Hirikkas to scare the shit out of him.

Geralt sat back on his chair as it creaked, his golden eyes complimenting his chalky white hair that fell on his shoulders in a dazzling way ever. He shook his head to her disdain, "I can't let people be killed by these beasts," his jaw clenched as a frown was etching to grow on his face, "They need my help,"

The blue eyed child was sending daggers to the witcher and you watched them both share scowls at each other from the sudden plan that uncoiled from the moment Jaskier opened his damn mouth.

"I thought you didn't want anyone needing you?" Cirilla simmered as a matter of fact as she crossed her arms.

Geralt could hear the parsimonous tone she'd kept up, making him seeth and his teeth grit as he sent another one of his tight scowls, "Then, why are you here?"

Cirilla loudly huffed to herself, snapping her gaze away from the latter. He sighed a big one, shaking his head again from the argument that is happening. "You're just worried, Princess." he nonchalantly uttered as he blinked and looked away, sounding so tired from everything.

"Of course, I am!" Cirilla suddenly fumed, voice turning a pitch higher than she intended to.

Jaskier raised his hand up after a minute of pure silence. Except for the loud sighs that both parties have been emitting. The bard cleared his throat for emphasis and both snapped their heads to look at him.

"Besides, he'd never stopped, Princess Cirilla," The man who has started the fight, declared like it would help the situation. But, no. It definitely just worsened and it made Geralt send him laser through his eyes.

A continuous set of rapid blinking happened to you at the words spoken by Jaskier himself. An inquisitive look needing quick answers given to the child sat beside you. "Y-You're a princess? Like a real princess? It's not just an endearment or something?"

"Cirilla is the princess of Cintra," the bard commented, answering your question in haste. You swallowed a lump in your throat, fingers scratching your temple when you wondered how it was possible. It is, in their kingdom and according to their time line, their era would be filled with royal empires or a hierarchy of the royal kingdom, "You mean, a kingdom? A huge kingdom? Like the daughter of a president?"

Nobody answered you at that. With Cirilla still glaring at Geralt and Jaskier looking at you weirdly by what you were blabbering about; trying so deeply to understand you.

Thus, it was as if all clouds started form; a sight of the princess breaking as it could be seen through the windows of her soul. You've took a glimpse of her and that tiny quiver of her lips and cheeks signified a little girl who was terrified of a future that was meant for her, "Why must you lie to me, Geralt?" she whispered, voice breaking as she swallowed and fought back the tears.

Your heart fell for the girl who seemed to be in an emotional battle with herself. It was like you see yourself in her. The fear that consumes her as if she had been all alone, scared and with nobody to ask for help.

She was a broken child. Emotionally.

At the sight of her tear-threatening face. Geralt gritted his teeth, whisper cusses to himself as he saw how he'd upsetted her again and so, his voice tried to soften; be a little more considerate from where she was coming from, "I had to, Princess. You wouldn't have let me go day by day if you knew where I was going," he paused, crossing his sturdy arms as he reasoned, "---besides, where was I getting food every day for us when I don't get to slaughter beasts?"

Cirilla's expression died down a little bit, her heart thumping out of her chest as she tried to dig in to her memories. There was riches under her bed back in Cintra, she remembered. "Grandmother has left gold under my bed, located in a big, brown, treasure box---"

Geralt immediately cut her off, gruffly but calmly spilling the beans for the tenth time for his whole life, "Nilfgaard has already looted the whole castle," his voice sounded stern as he uttered with no remorse; constantly reminding the princess of the truth and letting her understand, "---When I told you there was no going back, I wasn't lying."

You've tried to hold her hand that was tightly fisted across the table, yet you were too slow as she instantaneously stood on her chair with a tight-fitting frown on her face, "We leave tomorrow morning," Geralt declared as he watched her storm out the kitchen slash dining. The door being shut closed; loud enough for the trees to shake as the witcher seemed unfazed by her tantrums and sadness, "I'll give the princess what she wants, in repayment for my mistakes,"

After the accidental argument that Jaskier has made, it was already night time when both parties didn't seem to want nor have the plan to talk to each other like what they always do.

Geralt was out and nowhere to be found, with his horse as you've checked. A sudden want to ask him what happened and what it was about for you to be less of an idiot around the house and Jaskier finally regretting his mouth that ran with no thinking. The princess stayed in her chambers for seven hours already. There was no clock, but you've guessed by the evening twilight. Still, no response from the princess after an hour of convincing her it was time to eat dinner with a dessert of steamed chocolate cake you've managed to make through scrapes that you've specially created for her.

Both you and Jaskier were in front of her door, knocking repeatedly as the bard tried to woo her out of her bed. "Princess Cirilla?" he professed with a tone close enough to be considered as singing.

Seconds later, you've heard a faint yell from beneath the covers, "Leave me alone, Bard!"

The both of you sighed from her stubborness. They were both pretty obstinate; Geralt and Cirilla. You massaged your temples, eyeing the bard who had his ears flat against the door, trying to listen what was happening behind it. "Why is she mad?" it was a soft whisper that could only get Jaskier to hear. The bard shrugged, blinking back at you.

"Because," his sentence was vague, igniting a tight-lipped lour from you; totally unsatisfied by the information that was said.

He'd look at you with a faultless glint of his eyes, wondering what you were waiting for as he said his explainations as to why Cirilla was mad at the witcher. The bard sighed when you've continued to look at him lackadaisically and so he decided it was best to give a proper answer, "Geralt's been the...only one protecting her," he dubiously and quietly whispered, not giving away all the information yet.

Your frown grew tighter, cocking your head as you pondered, "---From what?"

"The people who want her as dead as a door nail," Jaskier stepped away from the door, his voice turning lower if that was even possible for Cirilla not to hear.

Shock was evident in your features. The details sounding like a bellicose. It was difficult to comprehend that somebody wanted to kill a kid who doesn't cause any harm. Or that was what you thought from what you've observed since the day you were with them. She seemed normal and harmless.

"I don't understand?" you trailed off and shake your head in a perplexed manner, "---Isn't she his child? It's obvious that he would protect her with all his life. Besides, where's the...mom?"

The mother. You were sure Cirilla was Geralt's child based on how protective he was with her. He acts like a father towards the princess. Was his wife the queen? you thought and tried to think of how the family tree works.

The bard narrowed his eyes at you; crossing his arms and leaning his shoulder on Cirilla's door with that smirk appearing on his face, "She isn't his child. She's his child of surprise,"

Your face warped into pure confusion, feeling the back of your head twitch because of how muddlesome it sounded, "Nani?! (What?!)"

From how weirder their facts get, the more you didn't even know that your words become incoherent. Jaskier eyed you like you've evolved into a Hirikka and gave you a shrug, asking you 'what?' with that weirdest expression he could create.

Your lips twitched into a small smile before it fell; realizing what he meant, "So, an illegitimate child? Where's the mom?"

The idea of continuously asking where her mother is; gave another meaning for the bard and even to yourself as well. You wanted to cringe so hard as your mouth couldn't stop itself from the utterance of your interest and the cat would be killed if Jaskier would've told you that there was actually a mom and they were a happy family.

You didn't know why your heart was feeling that way. Very intrigued by the witcher's life and not just from his marriage status but by how he or they lived in an era like this.

An era full of singularities compared to your dimension. The question is, how will you live if you couldn't get home as soon as possible? With dragons, beasts, vampires, mages or sorceress freely walking around their dimension would be your end.

Jaskier groaned to himself, his eyes rolling from your naivety and being blind over the fact that the child already has no progenitrix. "THERE'S NO MOTHER!" he whisper-yelled with another groan as he held his forehead because of how he was trying his hardest not to spit any more details that could get you in danger, "---I'm starting to think that you just want to know if Geralt has a missus or not!"

You opened your mouth and eventually dropped it like a gold fish. The grin on Jaskier's face tells he was happy to have seen you taken a bit of karma from the commotion you've brought since the tamed Hirikka came. As you've seen the perversity in his eyes, you were sure you wanted to defend yourself from being misunderstood. That is, if you really didn't meant that.

"I'm--I'm not!" a simple stumble over your own words was enough for Jaskier's grin to grow bigger. The bard loudly chuckled to his felicity at your little crush for the witcher. His guesses were correct then. Well, it always does. Damsels, maidens, princesses and even sorceresses had an eye for his beast-slaughtering friend. Even he so, could prove that Geralt was a handsome, dashing witcher despite of his quiet and grumpy attitude at times.

It definitely adds that 'oohmph' effect for Geralt Of Rivia.

"To answer your undying curiosity, He doesn't have a consort or a lover, understand?!" Jaskier tried to heartened. You crossed your arms like a snob and a fierce glare. The latter's laugh died down as he held onto his stomach, "Besides, It's...kind of knackering to explain,"

The latter gave you a shrug, mouth jutting in a pout with a raised brow, "If you wanna be mother hen to the child, then go ahead. She already had her tantrums last month and it didn't end well for me," he cocked his head to the side and stared out of nowhere then suddenly shaking his head to erase the thoughts when he added, "---I had a bruise on the forehead because she threw a block of wood at Geralt and it bounced on me,"

Jaskier moved away from the door, patting his clothes in attempt to dust away the dirt that didn't seem to be seen. He was actually brushing off the negativity that was happening, "Just...don't make her scream or annoy her any less,"

His warning made you question in interest, "What? Why?"

"You'll die," Jaskier was quick to answer like it was nothing. He grabbed onto his lute that rested upon a wall and inserted the hoop around his shoulders. You watched him strum, "You're joking,"

"A bard makes epics! Not jokes!" he gave you a once over with that smile of his, before ambling away from you and towards the door out of the house. Kolby was crouched on the side as he eyed the bard with curiosity. "Well, seldom, I do...or maybe all the time?" was the only words he mutter before leaving the house and probably plan on giving you both the time alone; believing that you could simmer Cirilla's anger rather than him.

You've exhaled an exasperated breath, staring at the Hirikka who was guiltlessly eyeing you with no animosity.

With one swift turn of your heel, you were face to face towards the door to her room, "Cirilla?" you softly knocked; knowing that she'd heard Jaskier leave. So, it was better because she seemed to not like him knocking on her door, "---Kolby wants to play, would you like to play with us?"

A loud, squeaky sound echoed around the house made by the Hirikka himself as he heard his name from your lips. Thus, you've heard the lock to her door being pulled, alarming you that it was already unlocked and so, you've gently pushed the door open; a quarter of your foot already in her room, "Can I..come in?" you hesitatingly asked. No answer was given so maybe that was a yes.

You stood in the middle of her room. It was plain and definitely dull. All dirt-brown with white sheets like it wasn't a teenager who was resting in her chambers. The room needed a woman's touch and creativity. If you'll last longer in their dimension, then there was no problem because you could help her make her room more cozy and sweet.

She was covered in sheets, obviously not wanting visitors as she was curled away from the door. A typical reaction of a child who was upset about things.

You slowly sat on her bed, making Cirilla turn till she was facing the bulbless ceiling with the sheets covering her face. Only a candle on her bed side table was the only thing giving you light as the day was already night, "What's the matter?"

A harsh breath was heard under the covers; puffing out frustratingly, "Geralt lied to me," she glumly whispered like a secret was being told. You shifted on the bed and laid your back on the bed post, "About?"

Cirilla took a peek under her covers and there you saw those pretty blue eyes gazing back at you with sadness, "---Slaying beasts. Again. I thought he stopped,"

You've crossed your legs like a pretzel; giving her a soft smile and faze of your eyes that could comfort her, "But, isn't that what he always do?" pause.

People have been saying that like it was his job. It was like he was born for that kind of thing; killing beasts and what if's. Thus, you respect it especially that you didn't live in their world and you don't have the right to judge people for what they do to survive with life.

"He is a witcher," you added softly, trying to sound reasonable and for her anger to pass.

Arguments lead to disappointments. Hence, it always only leaves people upset and for their hearts to turn gloomy. You were never a fan of it, as fights just makes you want to cry. As per usual. Growing up sensitive was a pain in the ass because sometimes; with just one loud retort or yell could get you sobbing like a child because you were hurt.

No wonder Cirilla was wailing beneath the covers. There were hints of redness amongst the sea of her eyes and you wouldn't notice it when you didn't have stared.

The princess of Cintra hurriedly sat on her bed, making you slightly bounce at the action. You watch her forehead crease a lot more than it ever does, her eyes now fixated on the candle on her bed side table, watching how the flames sway their bodies like they were dancing under the moonlight, "Witchers encounter all types of beasts. Poisonous, lethal or the uttermost dangerous creatures you can ever meet,"

"You're worried he'd die in a battle," you stated the obvious and nodded in understanding.

Cirilla snapped out from staring at the candle for far too long, giving you a once over as she weakly spoke, "You've never seen him in a real fight," she stated as a matter of fact. You clicked your tongue as you thoroughly tried to remember, "He'd kill an Alghoul?"

At long last, the princess gave a smile as she acknowledged your non-existent ideas about what a real witcher is, "That's just a novice type of beast, Y/N." pause. "---Geralt has encountered more than that. Dragons, werewolves, sirens, archgriffins and more. You name it, he can slaughter them all," Cirilla stated with that certain confidence she had for the only person protecting her through it all.

After a second of cogitating; she'd voiced out, "---Even people, Y/N. If he protects you, he protects you with all his life. He eliminates every beast that cause detriment to villages, if he is given a favor. That's what witchers are painfully trained for; to terminate beasts that inhabits our world,"

Only a shut of your mouth was given to the princess. Your smile falling as you continued to listen like a behaved school girl, and so she raved on to your further knowledge, "---He doesn't care what happens to him. Geralt is not any normal human you may know. He may appear like it, but no. He is disliked by a lot of people. Though, Some are not due to Jaskier's notable epics about him. Thanks to the annoying bard," she snorted after giving gratitude to Jaskier and his poems.

Her smile grew as she tried to lighten up the mood of the topic; even noticing how you were frowning beside her bed. She proceeded to give utter details about the man you've never have thought would experience that kind of future for him, "---He lives longer than any other human, has supernatural abilities and is trained to kill these beasts. He's a mutated human,"

Your mind was shook, heart feeling blue because of the backstory of what he is. There was actually an explanation as to why he was quiet most of the time; only uttering words when he wants to then his mood changes like a woman who has a period for two years straight. He rarely smiles, but when he does; it was as if the world was having multiple rainbows all at once whenever it happens.

He had a nightmare of a childhood probably.

You swallowed the tight knot forming your throat, still grasping at the new information like it wasn't real; that everything wasn't. Especially the way how your heart was left in somber when you should think about how you would go home and not about his past.

Your mind was in a mess. Only you could shut your mouth after hearing those news. You wanted to ask if those supernatural abilities consist of what Superman has and try to lighten up the mood; but you couldn't utter out a word and felt depressing because you've suddenly pop out of nowhere and added to Geralt's problems.

Cirilla secretly inspected your reactions and you were frowning. A new sight for her to see as she was used to seeing you smile all the time: that happy-go-lucky aura you had drawn her into liking you as a member of the house just like Jaskier; or a family which Jaskier earned the spot.

She noted your silence as a go signal for her to rant more, "---He's the only person who takes care of me. After all of my family who has died from the war,"

The war? a question popped inside your head and you've lately realized that it was said out loud for the princess to hear.

She dubiously nodded to your question, biting the insides of her cheeks as she opened herself like a book to you, "Cintra...it has been our kingdom," her voice faltered, growing softer and weaker; the topic appearing to be sensitive for the princess, yet she still continued with her big girl panties, "---Nilfgaard is a kingdom you don't want to encounter; especially the elves. They're still hunting us down,"

They were still being hunted. You wanted to say out loud but decided to keep your mouth shut for the sake of her because she sounded like she wanted to cry again.

Thus, her voice began to grow smaller. Cautious that she might be heard by anyone. She pulled her legs to her chest and slipped her arms under her thighs. Chin falling on her sheet-covered knees. A visible pout obvious to be seen and she appeared vulnerable, "---I'm scared because if Geralt dies, then there's no hope for me. Then, I'll be left...all alone, again." Cirilla's voice cracked, swallowing the cries and never letting it out as it has already been poured for the last seven hours.

Hence, her next words coming off as a whisper instead; like a child telling secrets to her teddy bear, "---with no one, Y/N. Because I have no other family except for Geralt and Jaskier. I don't want to be alone,"

The way she's said it broke your heart. She was just an abandoned child who was slapped with a harsh future for her. You couldn't help but feel more saddened especially when she'd pulled herself more to shape herself into a tighter ball.

You studied her form, a sincere smile traveling up your face as you don't try to let your emotions get to you better than she does. With open arms; you've offered, "Come here," Cirilla gave you a once over; hesitant of your actions, "You think you can give me a hug?"

Thus, the princess of Cintra knew that was all she needed. A genuine hug from a woman's touch that could get her temporarily forgetting the fears and trauma that has been ruining her mentality and continuously.

"A beautiful destiny is always masked with an unbearable truth and thus waiting for a price to pay,"

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! PLEASE DOOOOO! IT’LL MEAN SO MUCH TO ME!

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sinagrace · 4 years

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Iceman’s been back on my mind lately. It started with the internet rumor that Shia Labeouf was being considered to play the role of Bobby Drake in a Marvel Cinematic Universe version of the X-Men. My DMs and @Mentions on social media were a mixture of intense reaction and then asking my take on who would make a great Bobby Drake (for the record: in my head I always saw him as a younger Antoni Porowski with a theater background, ‘cuz playing the funny guy with a vulnerable streak requires serious acting shops). My mind went back to the time of BC, when I was doing a lot of touring, and answering this very question because of my work on the Iceman book at Marvel. One thing led to another, and I decided to take a trip further down memory lane to look at my favorite volume of the series: Amazing Friends. Now, I know I’ve spent equal amounts of time publicly stating what a gift working on Iceman was, while also calling out the challenges that came with the experience, but the third volume really was a pure blessing. I was able to take every valuable lesson I learned as a writer, and apply it to telling a story that would be interesting to one person: Me. I’ve been a lifelong X-Men fan, I live and breathe comics, so my own expectations for a return to the series seemed like the only ones to really worry about meeting/ surpassing. The first two volumes had been so bogged down by rotating editors, complex continuity, company-wide events, multiple artists… The third volume was my chance to focus on what an Iceman series was outside of so much context. All that mattered was challenging myself to do an X-Men story that focused on the aspects of the franchise I felt were valuable and relevant, meaning: excuses to have Emma Frost be an asshole and finding an opportunity to make fun of Kitty Pryde’s haircut. Before moving on from Marvel, Axel Alonso made time to call me for a pep talk about the series. I wanted to get the series extended, and he wanted to help me succeed with the ten issues he could commit to. First, he offered an eleventh issue to give me more time on the stands. He took a look at everything I had planned, and basically told me to restructure with an eye for ramping up the pace. My writing background comes from prose and essays/ think pieces… both of which are methodical and provide some allowance from the reader to really take your time and set up the world before diving into the meat. That’s not the case with comics. You gotta work fast. Especially in today’s market, there is less and less room for a retailer to say, “give it two volumes, because shit starts really coming together by the third trade.” That was literally my speech for hooking people on such iconic series as Invincible, Fables, and Strangers in Paradise. Nowadays, every single issue is not a brick to be laid down as foundation so much as a bullet in your gun. Conflicting imagery, but that’s the point. Axel told me to think about the Big Moments in my life and sort out how to inject the mutant metaphor into it and make the most compelling comic book story I could. This was epic advice that I took with me into the new arc, but I struggled a bit with what could be bigger than the “coming out” storyline in volume one. Love was off the table because I wanted to keep Bobby single and ready to mingle. Death was off the table too, because my editor felt like we’d done enough with Bobby’s parents in the first two volumes. Upon looking at my own life, and considering the stuff me and my friends were dealing with, I landed on something a bit more reflective than LIFE or DEATH. I wanted to focus on that moment when a gay guy looks outside of himself and realizes the folks around him may not have it so easy. After everything we’ve been dealing with this summer, Iceman’s “big issue” of the arc feels oddly prescient. Bobby Drake had to reconcile his accidental complicit role in keeping the Morlocks down, and he has to investigate new approaches to being a better ally to those who don’t want to or can’t live under the protection of the X-Men. I used the Morlocks to allegorically speak to the issues that the trans/ NB community face today. Considering that trans folks are facing higher rates of homelessness and murder than other members of the LGBTQIA+ community, all I needed to do was find a perfect villain to treat the Morlocks as “lesser-than.” Cue Mister Sinister, who I wrote as particularly Darwinist with a major flair for interactive theater. While Amazing Friends definitely is the most fun I’ve had working on the book, it was also full of the heaviest shit I’ve written about. I’m so grateful that my editor let me use Emma Frost for a story about the trauma of gay conversion therapy with her brother Christian, but I’m still annoyed he wouldn’t let me put her in a sickening Givenchy outfit for her reveal. Similarly, creating the Madin character required that I chat with several mental healthcare professionals and members of the NB community to respectfully portray them as a resilient and fleshed out hero. I included personal lessons that I learned from years of the therapy (the sandcastle / sea image, a Jay Edidin fave moment). My editor and I weren’t always aligned, but we definitely were on each other’s side. He understood what I was trying to do and asked questions when something flew over his head, and he even had the good instincts to stop me from going too heavy handed with the ending. My original idea for the arc’s finale was to have Bobby become permanently scarred in his fight with Sinister, where he’d have a cool ice gash running across his face or something, a la Squall from Final Fantasy 8. The goal was to show Iceman stripping himself of his ability to pass as non-mutant to save the Morlocks, but the Mutant Pride fight scene being a stand-in for the Stonewall Riots kind of already made enough of a statement. Plus, no one in editorial wanted to deal with remembering to track his scar in other books. At first I tried to balk at his point of view, but when I looked over my original notes for the series, the point was to focus on optimism and hope. Giving Bobby a permanent scar and emphasizing the notion of sacrifice was too bleak a message for a series wherein the hero carbo-loads hoagies while riding an ice scooter and mutant drag queens emcee local festivals. Of course, the crowning achievement of the series… my mutant drag queen :) I’ve witnessed a lot when it comes to the world of pop culture and myth-making, and I 100% believe that you can’t plan the success of something. I’ve seen bands forced into breaking up because labels spend six figures failing at making listeners connect with an album. I witnessed firsthand how The Walking Dead was built from relatively humble beginnings as a buzzy cable drama into a literal international phenomenon over the course of its first three seasons. Everyone hopes for the best, but you never know how something will land with audiences. When the Shade character took off, I was truly astounded. Things I posted on Instagram while half-asleep became official quotes on major news sites. Queens and cosplayers were interpreting her like Margot Robbie had unveiled a new Harley Quinn lewk. The impact was so legit and immediate that we had to jump in and give Shade a proper Marvel hero alias, to truly welcome her into the X-Men canon. Hence the name change to Darkveil. (Funny story: I tried to fight hard for Madame X as an alias, but CB didn’t want another Agent X / “X-Name” character. Three months later, Madonna announced the Madame X album. Phew!) There was a time where I felt uncertain that the folks in charge at Marvel would bring Darkveil into any stories outside of the ones I wrote. My understanding was that Hickman was like the Cylons and had A Plan-- one that didn’t include her character. I made peace with my contribution to the Marvel Universe being contained, but then someone on social media pointed out that Darkveil showed up in an issue of Marvel Voices. After breaking down and reading Hickman’s House of X, I saw that his Plan was one of endless possibilities, and that he was moving EVERY character into new and dynamic places. I have hope now that he sees the possibilities with Darkveil, and takes advantage of her and all of her many body pouches. Amazing Friends really is my favorite thing I’ve done for the Big Two. I made a lifelong friend out of artist Nate Stockman (DC, please hire us for a Plasticman book), and I got to run a victory lap with the most encouraging and supportive readers out there. It was worth every dreadful conversation, every shitty thing a person said to me online, and all of the fun nonsense that goes into being creative for a living. Being stuck at home in quarantine has given me a lot of time to reflect on the gift that my career to date has been, and I feel so grateful to be where I am today. Other people may groan when they have to talk about something they’ve moved on from, but not me. I made people happier, I got to work with my favorite characters at Marvel, and and I'll say it again: it’s a frickin’ gift to make people move from your work. So, I will engage every tweet or message asking me my thoughts about who should play Bobby Drake in the Marvel Cinematic Universe… I’ll just never have a good answer.

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kissandmxkeup · 3 years

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Royal Guard!Johnny

here for the obligatory annual “yes i’m still around and yes i know where my computer keyboard is” post, may do more but probably not tbh. if you’re still here and reading, i love you and also highly question why you’re so dedicated. not that i mind, i truly appreciate it, but still.

also, this is female!reader because i had so much trouble writing this in a gender-neutral manner. if you want a gender-neutral/male!reader version, let me know and i’ll do my best!

Always cordial and polite, not just with you but anyone he comes across

So many of the guards tend to have this air of superiority, talking down to those that aren’t within their ranks or of a higher status, but Johnny has the same level of manners for the elderly shopkeeper in town as he does for you, the crown princess of the country

Not only that, he’s also extremely attentive to your needs, even the ones that he isn’t necessarily responsible for

He always has a bag with first-aid supplies, snacks, water, and even portable chargers and a Game-Boy somewhere within reach

And he’s always willing to have a conversation with you, listen to your concerns and worries and sorrows

You actually came to know Johnny when he was guarding your brother, a seven year old who was incredibly funny and also insanely gross

After your brother turned ten he was sent off to a private school with their own security teams, so Johnny was moved over to you

You loved being around him; his positivity and kindness could melt even the toughest of moods, something your mother had noticed when she was looking for his new assignment

You remember when she called Johnny to the throne room; he’d still been just barely an adult then, looking young and boyish in armor slightly too big for him He had bowed deeply to her, so much that the weight of the heavy metal chainmail nearly tipped him over, and she smiled back as she informed him that he was being removed from his position with your brother, that he would now be tasked with being in your guard. He had given her a nod and an “as you wish” that was almost too wavering with forced professionalism before turning to you with a nervous little grin, asking what you needed of him in a way that had melted your heart.

Over time, the two of you had grown into a rhythm; you would walk the gardens in the morning, him following like a shadow as you chatted with the gardeners and groundskeepers. After that you would tend to your schoolwork, and then the minor royal duties you were given after you’d finished your education, occasionally letting him distract you with stories of the younger guards’ antics as you tried to pass time until dinner, and then at the end of the day you would always sit and talk together about the country.

Even when you were young, you were always looking to improve the life of the commoners of the land, and given his background, Johnny was much more connected to them than you could ever be. He had influenced policies you’d drafted on education, social welfare programs, and even some of your first quality-of-life recommendations like repairing historical sites and landmarks in the smaller villages of the country, such as the town he had visited often as a child. You were beloved in your country, and had become lauded as the “princess of the people,” always pushing for your constituents to be represented and thought of at every turn, but you always made sure that Johnny knew that you couldn’t do any of it without him by your side.

However, those outside of your borders tended to see you as much less kind and gentle, but rather stubborn and almost bitchy. You wouldn’t let your country’s people be used or walked over, refusing to give in to the demands of others that saw you as small and weak and risk your citizens’ wellbeing in the process. You sat in meeting with lawmakers, voice steady as you refused to even consider letting your constituents have their taxes raised in the name of increasing their own salaries, clashed with conglomerates that wanted you to turn a blind eye to pollution and mistreatment of their workers, even going as far as pressuring officials into dissolving royal contracts with major companies that relied on unfair practices, and you had even notably walked out of a meeting with a royal from another family after they had insinuated that perhaps you had let your public persona blind you to what was truly good for your country (in this case, letting their country use your resources without regard to the needs of the the common folk of yours).

Some other players in larger, wealthier countries had even decided that you were too much of an inconvenience, made too much noise, and wanted to eliminate you from your country’s line of succession by any means necessary. Because of this you had come to be assigned more guards over time, generally keeping a rotating team that you had jokingly nicknamed the 127 Squad because they seemed to have an endless supply of members. Some members like Ten, or Lucas rotated in during special occasions like state visits, and you occasionally had a knight-in-training such as the quiet Renjun or the child-like Jeno in addition to the usual two or three full-time guards.

There were eight other consistent members that you had come to be familiar with, though; Haechan was loud and boisterous in a manner quite similar to your brother, while his best friend Mark was quiet, shy, and a little nervous with a sword despite all of his experience. Taeyong, Taeil, and Doyoung treated you like their child in different ways, and Jungwoo was dreamy and often in his own head (although you weren’t sure if maybe that was just a facade, since he was one of the first to act if you felt in danger). Your favorite story was how poor Jaehyun and Yuta had been banned from attending public events after they went unintentionally viral for their handsome looks during a press conference about a new retirement plan you had orchestrated.

Johnny was always the constant, though; he was at every event, every meeting, always directly to your right in a manner that had started more than one rumor about your professional relationship and how it was more than just professional after all. And as much as you would never admit it, you hated the rumors because of their semi-truth; sure, you weren’t in a relationship, but it’s not like you would be opposed to that at all.

He was just as kind and funny as ever, but more mature and elegant now; he would help you out of your car even if there was a chauffer that was supposed to fill that role, lift children on his shoulders during your usual visits to local schools and smile with pride as they giggled and screamed. He would even sit next to you and run his hand between your shoulder blades when you had panic attacks about whether you were really fit to lead the country, reassuring you that your people loved you for a reason; not to mention that he had become very attractive over time; the boyish smiles were now replaced with kind grins, his armor now fit him like a glove, and every time he sowed the protective nature that he had developed toward you, you would swoon a little on the inside.

But there were strict rules about romance between royals and staff, if anyone found out that you even had a crush on him he would be moved out of your team and possibly out of your family entirely, which you couldn’t stand the idea of. So you kept your mouth shut, never letting your inhibitions take over you when he called your name with a kindness that made your knees weak, or when he would step in front of you in a protective manner at a rare threat made directly to your face. You had done well with it too, up until you had gone on your first state visit to another country without your parents or any other major officials.

You had been sent out to visit a country run by a set of princes almost double your age, with nobody but five members of your guard (Taeyong, Doyoung, Mark, Jaehyun, Ten, and of course Johnny) alongside you. The men were all openly uncomfortable with your presence at times; sometimes this was shown by you being excluded from conversations about “grown-up matters that didn’t concern you,” as you had once overheard the crown prince Leeteuk commenting, to even pressuring you with questions and comments that were bizarre at best and outright offensive at worst. You had tried to brush it off, since the visit was less than a week and very important, but it was hard to do so when you felt like you were having the life sucked out of you.

It wasn’t until the last day when you had finally had enough; Leeteuk had sat across from you, flanked by all of his fellow princes, and pushed a document that looked way too official to be presented in such a way to your side of the table with an expectant glare.

“What is this?”

“It’s the resolution that we’ve all been working on this week, I expect you to sign it for us now.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t sign something unless I know its contents. If you give me some time to look over it, I’d be happy to come back with my concerns and a signature if I feel it’s mutually beneficial.”

“I’m sorry?”

One of the other princes, Shindong, looked down at you with a glance of something resembling anger, and you could almost hear Johnny and Taeyong tensing at your sides, preparing to step in should the princes show signs of being a threat to your well-being.

“I mean, you say that it’s the resolution we’ve been working on, but I’ve been constantly shuttered out of any meaningful conversation about this legislature since I arrived. I don’t know what’s been done in front of me, let alone without me present, and by signing it I could be agreeing to any number of measures I don’t agree with or understand. I will not sign this unless I am given an adequate chance to look over it and bring my own concerns forward as a representative of my country.”

“See, I don’t think you understand how this works. You are in our country, under our roof, and we fully expect you to comply with our expectations while here. So you will sign this document.”

“Or what?”

You straightened yourself out, glaring daggers at the youngest prince (Kyuhyun, you believe) that had been so demanding to you. You could feel Johnny resting a hand on your shoulder, reassuring but warning, as Taeyong stepped out to certainly inform the other guards of the situation and have them start collecting your things to go home.

“If you force me to sign it, I and my guards will both bring the manner forward publicly that it was signed under duress. Any measure that you believe you could take to force me, such as physical punishment or holding me hostage, is an act of war by your government against a foreign diplomat on your soil and will be treated as such. I will not be threatened, forced, or coerced into giving my consent in a matter I do not understand, and the idea that I would do such a thing is actively preposterous at best and offensive at worst. So if you don’t mind, I will be leaving your country at the earliest opportunity, since it’s clear that you have no intent of cooperating with me and I will not stay in a place where I feel unwelcome and endangered. If this is an issue, please feel free to take it up with my guards or any citizen of my country, who will happily inform you of my stance on public policy that would affect them.”

You stood to leave, and Siwon matched your movement, grabbing your wrist with such force that you audibly hissed.

“Little girl, this is no business for you to be fighting against. Sign the papers and then you can go whenever you please.”

“My princess has stated that she intends to leave,” you were surprised by Johnny, stepping forward, forcing Siwon’s hand off of you before carefully pushing you behind him with one arm to shelter you from the men in front of you, “and as far as I am concerned, she gets what she wants when it’s her well-being at risk. Please stand down and allow her to leave, since we mean no harm. I’m sure that if this legislature is as important as you state it to be that she would need to blindly sign onto it, the king and queen would happily do instead, so I implore you to speak to them about the matter.”

Johnny walked you out, a hand around your waist with a stern expression as he kept looking back to the room of bewildered and infuriated princes. It wasn’t until he had accompanied you back to your room, firmly shutting and locking the door behind him, that he let the cold demeanor slip away. He asked how you were, a nervous expression on his face at the situation you had found yourselves in.

“I just...I want to go home. I want to go home and rest, and be with my family and friends again. I don’t feel safe here.”

He nodded solemnly, fingers dancing across your wrist as he lifted it to the level of your chest, scowling at the already-deepening purples and yellows where you’d been held.

“I’m sorry, I should have stepped in sooner.”

“You did everything right. You tried to let me handle it, and protected me when I couldn’t do it anymore.”

You leaned into his touch, and he seemed almost surprised as you let yourself fall completely into his arms, barely catching you. He held you upright for a moment, only pulling back when he noticed that you had started to cry.

“Princess...”

“Please, call me by my name. We’re friends, you deserve that much.”

He did so, gently taking you back into his grasp and reassuring you with a gentle swaying as you awaited the word of Taeyong that you could leave.

“I’m sorry, I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

He pulled back, concern and worry apparent in his expression at your bizarre change in tone.

“Can’t do what?”

“I..look, I love you. Not as my guard, not as my friend, but in a way that’s so much more than that. And I’ve been so scared to tell you because I knew it could get you taken from me, but you deserve to know. You’ve been nothing but kind and wonderful and hell, you’re perfect, but I can’t keep standing here, falling in love a little more every time you so much as look at me without telling you about it.”

He looked confused for a moment, but surprised you with a large, almost goofy smile that reminded you of your younger days with him.

“Don’t act like that, like it’s the end of it. I know it’s not allowed, just as much as you do, but I love you too and I’ve wanted to tell you forever.”

You laughed, almost bitter with the threat of separation between you two.

“How is it not the end of it?”

“I...I’ve been talking with your mother about...us. About how I feel. She’s going to remove me from the guard altogether, and I was going to move into an advising role for you where I’d be able to ask you out. I was planning on telling you after we returned form the visit, since it was only finalized after we arrived, but then...”

It took a moment to register what he had said, but as soon as it had clicked you threw your arms around him with an almost childlike excitement.

“I’ll be here for you until you don’t want me anymore, okay? I promise. Me and you, just like it’s been since you were sixteen.”

The words were gentle, kind, and you couldn’t help but relax at the truthfulness he carried in his tone. You wanted to stay like this forever, but it was all too soon that there was a knock on the door as Taeyong informed you that your car was waiting out front and the princes had finally agreed to stand down and let you leave in peace. You took a moment to collect yourself before heading to the door, and Johnny gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before opening it.

“Would you like me to ride with you today, your highness?”

“Actually, if it’s okay, I’d rather have Johnny with me. I’ve been under a lot of stress during this trip, and I find him rather comforting to have around.”

He stifled a laugh behind his hand, and you couldn’t help but grin at the almost knowing glance Taeyong spared you. You walked past the princes in uncomfortable silence, only sparing a small bow before you stepped into your car, Johnny following and moving to sit next to you as the door closed.

“So, we’ve got six hours until we’re back in our kingdom, do you want to play Super Mario Land or something?”

You burst out laughing, head falling back against his shoulder as you gave him a small nod through the rhythm of your breathing. He smiled as he gave you the old lime Game Boy, shifting to move an arm around you so he could watch you play, and you couldn’t help but notice how this felt just like home.

#johnny seo imagine #johnny seo fluff #nct johnny fluff #nct johnny imagine #not to lowkey villainize suju but i needed a villain for this and google picked them so

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shewritestheblues · 4 years

Text

The Elevator Bae x Chapter 1

Welp, I was hoping to recover chapters 1-8 but Tumblr is a hot ass mess with curls. So I’m reposting all of them. Here ya’ go my loves.

Chapter ONE

Erik x Black OC (Phoenix)

*NO WARNINGS*

Phoenix nods her head to the beat as Nipsey Hussle’s, Hussle & Motivate blast through her speakers. She’s learned to accept LA and all of its traffic. She’s officially been a Los Angeles resident for about a year now. She moved out here from Detroit. Phoenix packed all that she could fit in her small Chevy Cruz and drove the whole way. Life back home in Detroit was getting way too out of hand for her. Her friends didn’t really seem to support her dreams of being a DJ/Music Producer. Her family wanted her to go back to school and be something normal, like a nurse.

Phoenix worked her ass off with two jobs to fund her dream. Big Sean had heard one of her beats on her Soundcloud and reached out to her. That same beat was soon one of the top charting songs in the country. Artist were hitting Phoenix up left and right, wanting to work with her. Hustling her way into the industry, she was asked to DJ a huge party for Roc Nation in LA and the rest is history. After networking and making connections, she decided that staying in Detroit would hold her back. She didn’t even tell anyone that she was leaving… except her Mom.

She woke up one day and just left. She hasn’t looked back yet. Being in LA, she’s actually made a few genuine friends that not only supports her, but ride for her through thick and thin. They even staged a 4 day sleepover one time when Phoenix had an anxiety attack so bad, she couldn’t leave her apartment.

All in all, Phoenix could really say that she was happy.

-----

Phoenix sings along to every song has she moves her way through traffic. After an afternoon full of meetings, she finally reaches her apartment and turns down into the underground parking garage. Her favorite parking spot is open. As she steps out, she adjust her black leggings and cropped Harvard crewneck. She still sings along to the last song that played, Ari Lennox x BMO, now stuck in her head as she heads for the elevator‍.

A man ahead of steps into the elevator first. When he turns and notices her coming behind him, he holds the door for her.

When she looked up to say thank you, she wasn’t prepared for the man standing in front of her. This man… tall, the sweetest brown skin. His arms were definitely trying to break out of the sleeves of his burgundy fitted tee. His short dreads hung over his face, almost covering his eyes. She’s seen some fine guys since being in LA, but this one...he takes the cake.

“Thank...you”

“No problem.”

His voice… his fucking voice. It hit her like thunder. Has she ever heard a voice so damn sexy?

Then it hit Phoenix… jelly legs. She does her best to lean against the elevator door. The man pulls out a keycard and scans it. He must live in a penthouse. Only penthouse tenants had keycards.

“Which floor?”

“Uhh… Seven.”

The man hit the button for the 7th floor for her. As the doors shut, his cologne took the cabin hostage. It was a mix of Shea butter, cedar wood and vanilla. Phoenix hadn’t realized she closed her eyes as she took in his scent. But, he did. He released a low chuckle that took her from her trance. Her eyes shot open. She cleared her throat and tried to focus on a speck of dirt on her Chanel Slides.

The man opened his mouth to say something but before his words slipped, the elevator doors open. FLOOR 7. Phoenix internally panics, not sure if her legs would fail her. This really wasn’t the time nor place for this shit. She goes for it, rushing out. She made it but once she turned to walk to her door, barely out of site from the gorgeous man in the elevator, her knee buckles. She catches herself on the wall.

“Shit!” She slowly picks herself up, walking slowly to her door. The walk to the other end of the hall felt like 100 damn miles. She made it into her apartment. She drops her keys on the kitchen counter. She flops down on the couch. Dragging her sweaty hands over her face.

“Did I really just sniff this man? Did I really get caught sniffing this nigga?”

——-

The incident ran through her mind probably hundred times throughout the rest of her day. She managed to cook herself some dinner, shower and do a few loads of laundry. With each task, she would stop herself.

“I sniffed this nigga! What is wrong with me? I’m a creep.”

Her brain getting the best of her. She curls up on her couch. She had every intent to catch up on Steven Universe. Her schedule had been so busy that she has weeks of episodes to watch. But she couldn’t focus. All she could think about was this fine man. Why hadn’t she seen him before? And of course that just led back to her thinking about him catching her. She needed a distraction.

Instagram. She picked up her phone and scrolled down her timeline. Her homegirl, Ava, was all over the gram with her new photo shoot. Phoenix left a few comments.

YASSSS BITCH! GO OFF!

REAL HOT GIRL SHIT!

Phoenix continued scrolling. She found her way to her explore page. Liking a few pics of decor and food. And that’s when she saw it. Her ex, Justin, posted with his baby mama. Phoenix broke up with Justin the day before she moved to LA. That same day, she found out he had a baby on the way. That was the extra push she needed to just leave. Justin was her first everything. Her only real boyfriend and he did her dirty. She hadn’t really dated since then. She’d entertain a few of the industry guys that approached her but nothing ever happened. Her feelings were hurt instantly. Even though she had moved on and far away, that shit still stung like it was fresh. She locked her phone. When she needed a distraction, she ain’t mean that. Maybe making a beat would help.

She set up her mini, bootleg studio she created and got to work. It was so easy for her. This was her passion. She even wrote a few lyrics. Time was passing by and before she knew it, it was almost 2am.. she wasn’t surprised at all. She always worked best at night. She was in her zone so she didn’t wanna stop to go to sleep anytime soon.

Phoenix headed to the kitchen. She was going to need some good snacks to match this good creation session she was having. Opening her snack cabinet, she was met with a half eaten bag of plain chips and a pack of Oreos with ONE left.

“Ava is never staying here again. Eating up all my shit.” she says to herself.

She sent her friend a text, not caring that it’s late.

Phoenix: You owe me some snacks you hungry heffa.

Phoenix was determined to finish this night out strong by any means. Even if that means going to the store at 2am. She slid on her FENTY Slides. She refused to put on a bra so she threw on a Nike hoodie and headed out.

——-

The elevator seems to be taking forever. Who in the hell is holding it up this late? Phoenix starts to weigh her options. Tired of waiting, she debates whether she should just go back into her apartment.

DING

Letting out a deep sigh, “Finally!”

Looking up, she freezes. It’s him, sporting a black tank, basketball shorts, Nike socks and slides. He had small scars all over his upper torso and trailing down his arms. She is completely stuck, staring at him.

‘How far down did these scars go?’

The doors begin to close and the gorgeous man stops them with his hand.

“Are you gonna get in or just stand there?” he smiles.

‘HO MY GAWD! Is that gold in his mouth?

Phoenix slowly walks into the cabin. Arms folded over her chest, she stands in the front right corner. Ground Level already highlighted as their stop.

“It’s a little late for you to be out here by yourself ain’t it?” He asks.

Peaking over her shoulder, “I’m good.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, Phoenix could feel him burning a hole in her back with his eyes. She turns to make sure she’s right.

Of course! He’s staring right at her ass. She wants to say something but her words are trapped in her throat. He smiles at her, making her swallow them down and she just looks down at her feet.

“I’m Erik.”

her head snaps back. “Huh?”

“My name. It’s Erik.”

“Oh…Phoenix.”

The elevator doors open. Phoenix waste no time stepping out. Erik is right behind her. He taps her arm, making her jump. Erik was used to women being nervous and awkward around him. He knew he was fine and enjoyed watching women fold before him. He showed his pearly whites, dimples pooling deep,

“Get back here safe, Phoenix.”

Making sure to say her name slowly.

LORDT! The way he said her name made her stomach flip. This man was dangerous. She could tell.

“Uh, you too, Erik.”

She tried to match his tone saying his name. Not wanting to stick around for his response she turns immediately to go to her car. Getting in, she sits. She’s looking out between the rows of cars to see where he went. Some lights flash and soon after, a blacked out Acura NSX with red detailing along the sides, slowly drives by, in front of her. She pretends to not notice, acting as though she’s looking down. She starts her car and pulled out of her parking spot. There’s no traffic but Erik made sure to sit at the parking garage’s entrance until her car pulled up behind him before revving his engine and taking off.

Phoenix rolls her eyes, playfully. “This nigga extra as hell.”

But she knew she liked it. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t let her lie to herself. The short drive to the 7/11 up the street consisted of her wondering where he was going this late and curious to know he’ll be there when she got back.

#the elevator bae #erik x black OC #erik x phoenix #black panther fic #Erik Killmonger

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cassiopee-utopia · 3 years

Text

The day I ran into you 3/3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Meet me at the restaurant

(3k words)

I am so excited. I am going to have a real date with Timothée Chalamet, I just can’t believe it! But wait, am I sure this is a date? Maybe he asked me to dinner out of politeness? Or maybe he didn’t know how to finally get rid of me and he panicked?

Uhg, what am I saying, we don’t invite someone to dinner when we want to get rid of them! And we especially don’t kiss their forehead! Actually, I think I’m the one panicking… I am still in the subway on my way home and I am mentally pacing up and down.

When I finally arrive at my apartment, another issue, which appeares to me as an insurmountable problem, come to my mind. What on earth am I going to wear?!? Something stylish or something more casual? The thing is, I don’t know where we’re going, so if he brings me to a fancy restaurant and I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt I will look stupid, but on the other hand, if a wear a nice dress and we’re going to a pizzeria, I will also look stupid. So I am totally lost and it’s not like I could just ask him because I haven’t any way to contact him. Then, the only solution I have is simple, wear something between chic and casual.

And as a problem never comes alone, with the time I lost freaking out in front of my wardrobe it was already 7:10pm, and with his hotel being at least 30 minutes away, it means I have only 15 minutes left to get ready to make sure to get there on time.

Obviously I can’t take a shower in this short time so I take off the clothes I have on (his clothes), I jump in a simple and cute summer wrap black dress with a V neck and a pair of black sandals with small heels. I arrange the few makeup I have on to make a more sophisticated look as fast as I can and finally make a pony tale to hide how messy my hairs are after all that stress and the sweat I got from running everywhere in my apartment.

I check myself in the mirror one last time and lock my door at 7:26pm.

When I get out of my building my phone is indicating 40 minutes to get to his hotel. I am then officially late. I could run of course, but running in summer, and actually no matter the season, equals sweating, and I can’t arrive all sweaty to my date with Timothée Chalamet! So I decide to walk, fast, really fast.

When I arrive on the platform of the subway, I see the train I was supposed to be on leaving in the dark tunnel. Of course, the next one is in 7 minutes. I am so stressed, I’ve always hated to be late, it’s a real source of anxiety, even when it’s for something not really important like meeting friends for example, so right now, knowing what’s at stake for me, I am really harassed. I guess that when he suggested to meet at 8, he didn’t take into account that unlike him, I wasn’t already on site. But it’s okay, he’s gonna wait for me, right?

When I get out of the subway it is already 8:04 and I have still some walking to do to get to the hotel, but because of the heat there I can feel the drop I have on my forehead, so I can’t run anymore, unless I want to arrive like someone who run a marathon (I’m hardly exaggerating)? So I walk calmly, trying to wipe the sweat off my head.

8:11 I’m there, in the lobby, desperately looking for him. When I see him seated on one of the couches near the bar I feel so released. He is wearing an elegant white shirt and a pair of dark blue pants. I then head towards him and when he notices me, I say with my sorriest voice:

- My god, I’m so sorry, I’m late, I’m sorry Timothée, I’m…

- Hey, hey, hey, he says softly touching my agitated arms. It’s okay. (He looks at his watch). It’s only 8:12, you’re not late. You know, I’ve got here just 5 minutes ago so relax.

- Okay, then I’m not that sorry, I smirk.

As an answer he just rolls his eyes with a soft smile.

- So, where are you taking me? I ask.

- You’ll see.

- But…

- You’ll see.

- This is not funny.

- Yes, it is! He says laughing.

I make a face to him as we are going out of the hotel. When I look back ahead of me, I see a black car parked just in front of us with a guy waiting next it. When he sees Timothée, he makes a hand gesture to him.

- This is our car? No subway anymore? I question.

- No, no subway in the evening, it’s not chic!

Timothée opens the back door and says to me with a sort of bow.

- My lady, your carriage is here.

I bow too taking his hand and say:

- Well, dear sir, I am more than delighted.

We both laugh and enter in the car.

During our drive we are both silent and are looking awkwardly at each other every now and then. But after 5 minutes he finally breaks the silence.

- So, as I’m a nice guy I’m gonna give you a clue: water.

- Water?

- Yup.

- uhm… Oh! Water like the Seine water!?

- Exactly! What a little genius!

- Yeah, yeah I know, I say smirking

- Don’t get carried away, my clue was extremely easy.

A few minutes later we finally arrive. Timothée thanks the driver and tell him he will call him back to pick us up.

The restaurant is a wonderful barge in front of the Eiffel Tower. As it is currently the longest days of the year, it’s still pretty luminous outside, so it isn’t illuminated yet.

The exterior walls of the barge are entirely in glass and there is a terrace on the roof.

The restaurant is already pretty crowded and when I see the elegance of the decoration, the furniture, the waiters and even the clients, I understand that it is kind of a luxury restaurant. In that moment I am relieved to have chosen a cute black dress but also embarrassed at the idea of the price this restaurant must cost.

A waiter installs us upstairs at one of the best places of the roof when he hears Timothée’s reservation name. He immediately gives us the menu.

Once we’re alone, I tell him:

- So you’re the kind of guy who can get a reservation in an exclusive restaurant just one hour before?

- Yeah, apparently…

- No seriously, how did you do that, this place is amazing!

- Really, you like it?

- Are you kidding? Obviously I do! I mean, just look around you, I’ve never been in such a restaurant!

- Well, I’m pleased you like it then, he says with a sincere smile.

- But you didn’t answer my question, how did you manage to have a reservation here?

- I guess I can be very persuasive, he answers smirking.

- Timothée, this is a serious question, was it because of who you are?

- Oh, not at all… When I tried to use my name to convince them to let us come, the guy on the phone said: “Who?? I don’t know any Timothée Chamanet”. So, I decided to use some of my connections.

- Timothée “Chamanet”, the guy with the good connections…

- Please don’t call me that way, he says with his hands on his face pretending he’s sad.

We laugh.

- But more seriously, why didn’t you just choose another restaurant?

- Because someone I know highly recommended it to me and I thought it was the perfect occasion!

- You mean, I’m the perfect occasion? I say a little self-conscious.

- Yes, perfect, he says putting his hand on mine.

He’s looking right into my eyes, his beautiful curls a little bit over his. He then starts brushing softly my hand with his thumb and I feel that I am blushing really strongly, so I decide to change the subject.

- So, uhm… we should order, shall we? I say quickly, removing my hand and taking the menu.

- Yes, yes, but you know, you’re really cute when you blush, you shouldn’t be embarrassed, he reply with a gentle voice.

Oh dear! In this moment the only thing I manage to do is to open the menu and hide behind it.

- Who’s hiding now? He says amused.

- This is not funny, I answer still hidden.

- Yeah, you’re right, it’s not funny when your date is hiding from you.

He delicately pushes down the menu I’m holding.

-Date? I ask quietly.

-Yes, if it’s okay with you.

As an answer I offer him my biggest smile.

- Nice! Now let’s see what we have here! He tells taking his menu.

When my eyes lean on the one still in my hands, they open wide seeing the prices.

- Oh my god, Timothée this is so much… you can’t…

He doesn’t let me finish and cut me off.

- I can.

- But…

- I can.

With the tone he uses I understand that I can’t make any protest.

After a few minutes we finally make our decisions and tell the waiter our order. I choose a sole and Timothée take a duck breast fillet.

The whole time we’re waiting for our courses we’re talking about our personal life, like why did I choose to study communications or how shooting he’s first movie was… But I am not really in the conversation as I can’t stop thinking about what he has just said. “Perfection occasion” ; “date” ; his hand on mine… or simply the fact that I just spent the whole afternoon with him and that now we’re at a restaurant. Everything is mixing up in my head and I don’t know what to think of this situation, about the after. Because, I mean, yeah what’s going to happen tomorrow? Will I ever see him again? Or is it just a kind of a one-time thing for him? And anyway, even if it wasn’t a one-time thing and he really liked me, this relationship, whatever it is, is simply not possible! I mean, I live in Paris and him in New York and he travels all around the world a big part of…

- Rachel? … Rachel!?

I suddenly go out of my thoughts.

- Um?

- Are you listening to me?

- Pff, of course I’m listening to you! I reply with an unconvincing air.

- Okay, then, what did I just said?

- … er… you, you said that… er…

- I see. What were you thinking about? Is there something wrong? He asks me with a concerned look.

- Yeah, yeah, sorry, I was just lost in my thoughts.

Luckily for me, I’m saved of this situation by the waiter who bring us our dishes.

- That looks delicious, thank you! Timothée says to the man.

And indeed, that is delicious!

- This is so beautiful!

- What? Are you falling in love with your fillet? I joke.

- Pff, no! The Eiffel Tower!

I turn my head in the direction he is looking, and I see it, the illuminated Eiffel Tower, sparkling as it is probably 9pm, and yes, even if I had been in Paris for a few months now I am still amazed by this beauty. (* the Eiffel Tower sparkles every night at the beginning of each hour for about five minutes until 1 am).

- Yeah, it’s marvelous, I didn’t even notice it was on.

When I look back at him, he is still admiring the tower that is on his side, letting appear his perfect profile accompanied by his renowned jawline. I can see the sparkles reflecting on his eyes and I am melting because of what I am seeing just in front of me.

- Yeah, it’s so so beautiful, I murmur.

We continue to talk about everything and nothing, to laugh and tease each other until the end of our respective dessert.

- Woo! I think I ate for the whole week, I can't swallow anything anymore! I exclaim.

- Come on, we both know in one hour you’ll be hungry again! He says laughing.

- No, na, nao, na… yeah okay you’re right.

We both laugh.

- But seriously, thank again Timothée that was succulent!

- You’re welcome. But you’re the one that should be thanked, because I spent a delightful evening with you, he smiles at me.

I widely smile at him too.

- So, shall we go? He asks.

- Yeah, let’s go!

- Perfect, I’m going to pay, you wait me at the exit?

- Thanks again for that.

- I said it was fine Rachel, you don’t have to thank me every two minutes!

I smile and go towards the stairs and then the exit.

I take my phone to check the time, 9:49pm. I then try to check my face with the front camera but even with the streetlights it is too dark and the quality of my iPhone 6s camera doesn’t help at all. I try to find the spot with most light, but I get interrupted by a voice behind me that makes me jump.

- What are you doing?

- Oh, you scared me Timothée!

- Sorry for that… But seriously, what were those weird movements every which way? He asks laughing

- Hey! Don’t laugh okay! I was just trying to check my face with my front camera…

- You do know there are restrooms with a mirror in the restaurant right? He says pointing a finger over his shoulder in direction of the restaurant.

- err..

- Anyway, you don’t have to worry, you look perfect.

He doesn’t let me react and directly ask me:

- What about a little walk down the quay?

- That sounds nice.

We walk close to each other, silently, under the light of the streetlamps. On our way we cross paths with a couple, a group of young people drinking beers, and even a jogger. God no matter what the time it is, there’s always joggers in this city…

All of a sudden, without any warnings he takes my hand in the most natural way possible, like if we’ve been together for months. The only thing I do at this moment is to look down and let a big smile out.

But then, my smile disappears as I rethink about what I told myself earlier. What’s next? What about tomorrow and all the other days after that? And this time, a waiter isn’t going to save me from that, no, I have to face it and ask him, so I stop and tell him, looking right into his eyes:

- Timothée, what’s next?

- What do you mean what’s next? He asks confused.

- er… you know, this, … us… I mean, what does this afternoon mean to you? I mean, you talked about a date, you now take my hand, but we both know that you don’t live here, so, I just don’t understand what you’re doing… and er… I know that I should just enjoy the wonderful time I’m having with you but now, I don’t know anymore how to act around you and how to react to what you do or say, cause I don’t know… er… what do I mean to you?

He is standing here, in front of me, still and silent, looking in my eyes. Then he gets slowly closer to me, put his right hand on my waist, which makes me froze, and next his left hand on my cheek as he is still getting closer. Our faces are now only separated by a few centimeters, and we are still looking deeply in each other’s eyes until he looks a little bit downer, at my lips I suppose, and smiles softly. My heart is beating so hard, I swear he can probably hear it. He brings his mouth to my ear and says quietly:

- This is what you mean to mean.

As soon as he ends his sentence, he attaches his lips to mine and kisses me deeply. The first three seconds I am still not able to react as the situation seems so unreal to me, but then those butterflies come and I’m starting to relax and kiss him back, placing a hand in his hairs and the other down his back. In that moment I forget everything around me, every preoccupation and doubts I have, I’m just floating in his arms.

When we pull back and end the kiss, we are both smiling like idiots looking at each other with my hands on his shoulders and his hands on my waist. I then see just behind him the most cliché thing ever, the Eiffel Tower sparkling, again, but I love it because I like that kind of romantic but cliché stuff.

- Look! I told him pointing at it.

He turns back.

- Wow, I guess this going to be a habit for us, he says smiling. And for your interrogations about what’s going to happen next, don’t worry… If I remember well, you dream to live in the US and you only have one or two years of college left, right?

- Yeah.

- And until then, I can visit you quite often as I have the money to.

- Yeah, I guess.

- See? We can figure it out. We will figure it out… Because it’s not every day we ran into love.

The End

Thanks for reading my story ^^

#timothee blurb #timothée imagine #Timothée chalamet #Timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet fanfiction #first story #fanfic #short story #timothée chalamet story #timmy

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twdmusicboxmystery · 3 years

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Revolution Theme, Part 4 - The Governor’s Episodes

What led me to wanting to rewatch the Gov’s episode was a discussion with @galadrieljones. She talked about Lenny from 4b being an anti-Daryl, and that sparked something for me. I totally agree about Len, but it made me remember that, a long time ago, I remembered that Mitch (guy who operated the tank for the Gov and helped bulldoze the prison) was also an anti-parallel to Daryl.

Now, back when I first realized that, I didn’t have anywhere to really go with it. I mean, we had the leader (Governor) pitted against Rick and his right-hand guy (Mitch) pitted against Daryl. Mitch operated the tank, which Daryl blew up. And then of course Daryl ends up shooting Mitch in the heart. The thing that first made me realize Mitch was a Daryl parallel was the fact that he had no sleeves, lol. I know that’s goofy, but I think it’s intentional.

Anyway, I hadn’t thought about it in a long time. And while we’ve talked about Gov parallels to Beth in these two episodes lots of times before (like the stigmata walker in the yellow wheelchair) it suddenly occurred to me that there’s probably a LOT more to it than that.

Recently, especially since the bonus episodes, I’ve been big on looking at entire sequences and multi-episode arcs from a broad, bird’s eye view because I think they’re templates for future story lines. (It’s totally Find Me’s fault. Lol.) Anyway, I just realized I hadn’t done THAT with the Gov’s episodes, and I probably should.

Long story short, I was right.

Long story long, here we go:

So we start by seeing the end of 3x16 again, right after the Gov kills all his own people and takes off with Martinez and that other guy whose name I don’t remember. He doesn’t show up again and Martinez says he pretty much gave up and got eaten by walkers.

(We’ll skip the discussion about how Karen was a Beth proxy at this part in 3x16, because she was left for dead and even pretended like she was. In other words, she played possum. Then she returned to Tyreese and eventually became romantically involved with him. But that’s beside the point, right? ;D)

Okay, so we see the Gov and the two guys at a camp site and a very Beth-ish walker stomps through his fire, trips, and starts burning before Martinez kills it. I’ve always thought that was a Beth hint, and I still do. I think it’s just the writers’ way of signaling that this is a Beth template for the future.

When the Gov wakes up, his guys have abandoned him and he’s alone in this bright yellow tent that stands out against the bleak landscape. (Yellow.)

Then he goes and burns Woodbury. I’ve always tried to connect that to Beth, particularly because of the Moonshine shack. But looking at it now, there’s just something else entirely going on here. Emotionally, I mean.

We know Bethyl burning the moonshine shack symbolized something positive. Letting go of their pasts and moving forward. When the Gov does this, you don’t get that vibe at all. It’s more bitter and resentful. He’s angry and grieving over losing his leadership, the town he built up, and his people. It almost feels like a “if I can’t have it no one can” sort of thing.

So, this is total conjecture on my part, but I feel like there will be a Beth parallel to this. Probably not quite as destructive, but I’ve always had a head canon that somehow, after waking up, she’ll end up at Terminus, find the riot gear and Daryl’s poncho, and assume they all died there. That may be where the bitterness and sadness will come from. Just my head canon, though.

After that, the Gov starts on his long, lone journey (another thing we’ve always theorized Beth would do). Oh, and the song that plays over this part, which I’ve always thought was very pretty, is called The Last Pale LIGHT in the WEST (emphasis mine). I think the Gov goes west when he leaves.

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Then we get voice overs, and this part is SUPER interesting and makes me very happy. We heard two women talking to the Gov about where he comes from and where he used to be. We now know those voices to be Tara and Lilly, but at this point in the episode, he hasn’t met them, yet. So, what’s interesting is that neither of them are named in the subtitles. They are just “woman.”

And where have we seen that lately? In 9x05, every voice (like Lori and Abraham, for example) was named, but Beth wasn’t. We immediately recognized her voice, but she wasn’t named in the subtitles as “Beth.” It just said “woman.” So, what does this mean? We wouldn’t have recognized Alanna’s voice yet at this point, unlike Emily’s, but we had yet to meet Tara yet. So, on a basic level, I think it shows that the unnamed “woman” will soon be a character on the show.

And why would they do that with Beth when, like Lori and Abe and the others, we’ve already met her? I think it’s probably in line with the theme about her being a different person when we see her again. In a good way. “Meet the new Beth Greene.”

The next important thing about this part is what is actually said. I’m paraphrasing here, but Tara and Lily ask where the Gov was before and he says something about having been in a town. Tara asks if the monsters were there. He says no. It was a good place, with walls. But “he” lost it. She asks, “who?” And he says, “the man in charge.” So clearly, he’s talking about himself in the third person, and Woodbury.

But.

If this is a Beth template, then Gov = Beth, right? We always wondered why they would use him, being evil and stuff, as a Beth proxy. But keep in mind that Gimple took over as official head honcho and completely reworked a reportedly terrible 3x16. They were basically done with the Woodbury/Gov storyline, and they needed a good sendoff for him. In a way, this was Gimple’s first Sirius arc. Someone who leaves, is presumed dead, but then comes back. We know Daryl (and Michonne) searched for him, but lost the trail (kinda like losing Beth’s body) and the Gov is even down one eye. Siriusly.

So, my point about the voice over is that everything said there could be applied to Rick, especially during the S4/S5. He lost it. He screwed up. Beth was left behind/separated from them.

Okay, now I’ll jump forward a little faster. For the rest of 4x06, there are really only two big things of note. 1) Tara and Lilly = two sisters who eventually lose their father. A foreshadow of the Greene family dynamic. And even though Tara’s father dies of natural causes (lung cancer), the Gov does end up bashing his face in to keep him from biting Tara. I think that was supposed to be kind of like him “killing” the dad, and therefore a foreshadow of him killing Hershel by taking his head.

The second thing, in terms of future Beth arcs, is that he lost everything, was left behind/abandoned by his people, went on a long journey, and eventually found people that he came to care about and protect. And I think the same will happen with Beth. In fact, it actually works in line with the Charleston template I laid out. Just a community of people she cares about and protects/takes care of.

And I’m sure some people will wonder about the fact that the Gov finds a love interest in Lilly, and if that will translate to Beth. Well, it’s possible. She might have had boyfriends over the years. We’ve discussed this. But it’s also important that her *true* love interest, Daryl, is already back with TF. And that wasn’t true of the Gov. He was never going to return to the prison and have some beautiful relationship with…anyone. The closest thing would have been Andrea, and she’d already died by this point.

There are, of course, small clues in 4x06 that I haven’t gone over, and of course I’ve skipped the rest home with the stigmata walker, because we know about that. But a few highlights: At one point, Tara says, “Ray Charles could have seen it” about their truck out front. Blindness mention. Lilly used to be a nurse, which ties to Grady. And she even talks about being bored, which is a direct link to Edwards being bored.

Pirate theme, of course. I do think Megan represents Beth, though perhaps not directly in the template. She wears a lot of pink and yellow, blond hair, etc. And I think she’s just another way to say that this template is about the blond girl who, apparently, dies.

We should also probably appreciate that the way the Gov’s arc ends (the situation in 4x08) is a prisoner exchange situation where a Greene dies, and both directly ties to and foreshadows Grady.

But let’s move on. The end of 4x06/beginning of 4x07 is where they fall into a pit and meet Martinez. Let’s be real. In the show they call it “the pit” and it’s just used to keep walkers from overrunning their camp, but it’s clearly a grave. So, we have the Gov and Beth—I mean Megan—falling into a grave with a bunch of walkers (death) but surviving and eventually getting out (resurrection). Side note: we also saw the Gov kill one of the walkers that went after Megan by ripping it’s jaw off. (Speak no evil.)

So, here’s where we get to talk about Mitch and Pete a little bit. And it’ll be fun. I promise. :D

Watching this with an eye toward them representing Daryl and Merle, a lot of the symbolism became a lot more obvious. Keep in mind that they’re anti-parallels, not parallels.

See, between the two, Pete, who actually represents Merle, is the more sweet, compassionate one. While Mitch is the more brutal one. But again, they’re anti-parallels, so in this case, Mitch, the brutal one, is Daryl’s antithesis and Pete, the kind one, is Merle’s.

In fact, the first time we meet them, Mitch doesn’t want to let the Gov’s group in because they already had too many mouths to feed, and Pete says, “come on, man. They have a kid.” Just reminded me a lot of Daryl’s “they had a baby” in 3x10 after saving the family on the bridge.

So, they come back to the camp and start living in a trailer. The Hole in the Roof theory is huge here. The roof of the trailer keeps leaking water and, I shit you not, it looks like it’s dripping from a bullet wound. So, clearly….

And while I stand by it being a symbol of Beth being shot in the head, I also think it represents toxicity of a sort. Things that are wrong and it’s just a matter of time before the crap hits the fan. That sort of thing.

Okay, obviously the most important part of this episode is when they go to the cabin, but let me mention a few things that happen along the way.

Mitch, Pete, Martinez, and the Gov go out looking for supplies for the camp. And they had a really interesting conversation that may give some insight into the spearfishing in Find Me.

They walk by the lake and the Gov asks if there are fish in the lake. They reply, no. The lake is totally dead. Mitch then adds that there are rabbits, skunks, and possums. Obviously, some symbolism in those animals. But it occurs to me that fish = life. Something they can eat, subsist and even thrive on. The lake is dead because there are no fish.

Now, clearly this is a foreshadow of the Gov killing Pete and putting him in the lake. And of the Gov already being kind of dead in his soul. And “dead water” might also foreshadow the poisoned water theme. Water that can cause death if you drink it.

But in thinking about Daryl’s reaction to both Leah and Carol finding fish in FM, it’s kind of interesting. Both times, he says, “no way,” and is pleasantly surprised that they caught the fish (life). So, I’m wondering if this is meant to be him being surprised that someone he thought was dead was really alive. And what if all the fish symbols we’ve seen represent life in some way?

Of course, it could also be that a mounted fish, like we saw near Dwight in S8 is technically a dead fish. So, it might have symbolized the death of his and Sherry’s relationship. Or that it would live again. I’m not sure how granular to make this. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Okay, so then they come upon a camp that seems to be doing well. Mitch wants to take all their supplies, but Pete refuses and they leave. Later, they come back to find the camp overrun, most of its people dead, and the supplies gone. Here, Mitch is just pissed that they didn’t take the supplies before someone else got them. (Very anti-Daryl.)

But I do think this points to some future arc. I don’t know for sure what it will be, but again, I think it works with the Charleston template. Like, Beth is in a community. She goes out looking for supplies, and when she comes back, the community has been knocked on its butt by the CRM. And this is one of those things that was never really acknowledged or explained in the show. Who killed off the camp? And why wasn’t anyone in the Gov’s group at all concerned that their camp might be next? Gotta be symbolism for sure. :D

Oh, and the Gov says it must have “just happened.” Just like Daryl said about the wolves and the girl on the tree in 5x15. And again, the wolves are very tangled up in the Native American symbolism.

Then there’s the cabin bit. Again, I’m not at all sure how this will fit into Beth’s arc, but I’m sure it foreshadows SOMEthing. So, we have two headless corpses, one of which says LIAR and the other that says RAPIST. And then a third that still has his head, but killed himself with a shotgun. He is, presumably, the guy who lived in the cabin and killed the first two, and he’s labeled himself MURDERER.

Now, on the one hand, all of these words describe the Governor. He says “Liar” just before taking Hershel’s head, which is what that first one points to. And it’s not too hard to figure out that he’s a murderer. We didn’t actually see him rape anyone in the show, but there were suggestions of it, especially as he attacked Michonne and manipulated Andrea. And I’m pretty sure in the comic books, he does actually rape Michonne. They just didn’t want that to be the case in the show. So, these do all work for his story line.

But I also think these may be things Beth encounters at some point in her arc. Maybe someone will lie to her (or even betray her, Lone Ranger-style) and she’ll have to take them out. We already saw her dealing with rape at Grady, and have long thought that it foreshadows a bigger, potential rape situation that she’ll have to deal with. You get the idea. So, it’s very vague and I don’t have any great inspirations about what these point to, but in general, I’m sure they’ll apply to her.

It's also important to note that all these guys are dressed in military clothing. So, we might be able to tie them to CRM, symbolically if not literally.

I didn’t find anything massive inside the cabin that we haven’t already discussed. You asked me to look for revolution/George Washington pictures, @wdway, and I didn’t notice any. I didn’t try overly hard to see every single picture in the background, but most of them looked too blurry to tell much detail anyway. The major one is of Abraham Lincoln, and I think that’s important. But I’ll come back to it.

Of course, we have all the Native American symbols in this cabin. So, here’s the thing. Because of Tonto in TLR, I feel like whoever the Native American symbolism points to, whatever group that is, good or bad, it represents the group that Beth found after she woke up/lived, who nursed her back to health. And the reason I say good or bad is because the Claimers do theoretically fall under this same symbol theme for Daryl. The first group of people he ran into after he lost Beth. After the big disaster.

And here, I think Martinez’s group works in that regard for the Governor. He wasn’t hurt badly but he was in need of help after falling into the pit. You could say the same of Daryl after losing Beth. He just needed people to pull him out of his slump.

Now, here’s the other thing I’m not entirely sure how to interpret, but it does lend credence to the idea of the guy who lived in the cabin, who took out the two headless corpses, being representative of Beth. Once they’ve cleaned the walkers out of the cabin and are all sitting down talking, the Gov finds a picture of the guy who lived their and his family. The guy’s left eye has been colored over with read. Like red pen or marker. But it’s clearly a Sirius symbol and the red looks like blood.

So, I thought about what must have happened in this cabin. I kind of thing it might have been sort of like what happened with Abraham’s family. We were told after 5x05 that he killed the people who were actually part of his group. People he trusted. That’s because while he was out on a supply run, they raped his family. They just couldn’t show that in the show.

So, for the cabin guy, taking out a rapist and liar who might have harmed his family is straight forward enough. But why would he kill himself if his family still lived? And the Gov’s group found them as walkers in the house. Why would they continue to live there if the husband/father had shot himself on the porch? So, I’m thinking that these two headless corpses not only raped but perhaps murdered his family. So, he beheaded them and, in his grief, took himself out.

Or, because he labeled himself a murderer, maybe something happened where his family went crazy, or just got bitten, and he had to put them down. And that made him feel like a murderer. Because I don’t think justly taking out bad guys would have made him feel that way.

This may feel largely irrelevant, but it’s in the episode for a reason. Once again, I think this probably points to some part of Beth’s future arc. I mean, this sort of thing, the kind of thing Abraham went through, since it happened at the hands of people that were part of his community and that he trusted, is the ultimate betrayal, right? So maybe it will be a matter of someone in her community that she trusts betraying them to the CRM or something. IDK.

I keep saying it’s the west/lone ranger stuff that = betrayal, but the Native American theme always seems to be tangled up with it, doesn’t it?

Some minor details.

They find *beer* in the cabin.

We find out that Mitch and Pete were in the army before the turn happened. And in this case, I don’t necessarily want to link that to the CRM. We could, but given that both of them are now dead, it doesn’t really matter.

But it occurred to me that this is more evidence of them being anti-Daryl and Merle. Daryl and Merle were nobodys and drifters before. So, their opposites were in one of the most disciplined professions one can enter. Daryl started in an unproductive place and evolved. Mitch started in a disciplined place and devolved.

Of course, they’re playing GOLF when he kills Martinez. After doing so, he sits like Daryl at the crossroads. Then when Lilly finds him in the RV, he says he had a bad dream. He doesn’t remember. (Memory loss mention.)

They tell the camp he was hitting golf balls, got drunk, and fell into the grave/pit. *coughs Bethyl*

There were some interesting mushroom mentions. I noticed that before they met up with Martinez’s group, they were talking about Tara’s ex girlfriend (who was named SAM, btw) who lied to her about her feelings for Tara. Lilly says, “Yeah, then you went camping, ate mushrooms, and the rest was history.” Or something like that. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but then later, we see the same mushrooms on the trees around the Gov that we saw in Still. Hmm.

I’m also a little unsure of what to make of the walker pit they reach when they try to leave the camp. Remember they all take off in a car, including Tara’s girlfriend, but they have to stop because the road is impassible. It’s turned to mud and is full of walkers. I’m sure that’s symbolic of something, but I don’t know what.

Of course, the Gov kills Pete and recruits Mitch. You could say he has a very Negan approach, ruling through fear. He kills Pete specifically BECAUSE he’s the compassionate one and Mitch is the brutal one. Very different to how Rick ever approached things.

Okay, that’s most of what I have for the Gov. Except that at the beginning of 4x08, after he takes Michonne and Hershel prisoner, he says, “they’re the key.” (Key Theory).

#beth greene fan art #Beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional for the win #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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