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#we almost never remember our dreams but there were some echoes of whatever this one was

so-mordor-itis · 7 months

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Peter's used to having rough nights, but not like this.

His mask peels off of his face so slowly, as if it's become a brand new skin. It's sticky from his sweat, slightly hardened with history. A part of his mind wanders as the night's cool air hits his skin, whispering ideals, dreams, and prayers.

Being Spidey has its perks, but it also has its faults.

As he steps away from the window, a noise of someone stumbling makes him pause. A loud tin clatter echoes from the kitchen, along with a string of curse words. Peter inhales with relief, almost snickering with delight. Only you would snack this late and cause a ruckus as you do so.

If this was the start of your relationship, he would've also followed in your footsteps and allowed a few biting words to tumble from his mouth as he did his absolute best to strip his suit off without you noticing. How that would play out: he would stumble, falling flat on his face with considerable noise; you'd then call his name with increasing concern and he'd have to shoo you away as if you were a pigeon that flew directly into his mask's lens. (That's happened so often, if he had a nickel...)

However, this wasn't the start of your relationship.

Peter pokes his head into the door frame and witnesses the cause of your colorful language. This time, he allows himself to chuckle. You start, bracing yourself against the counter. A spatula in hand, branding it as if it were a sword. "Pete.." You breathe, shaking your head. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I could say the same for you," he gestures to whatever it is that you are doing. "I entered our home, heard something break, and thought we were getting broken into. Well, it wouldn't be the first time."

"When did we last get broken into?" Your voice is now laced with anxiety, and he feels slightly bad. Did he not tell you about that one time? Maybe not, considering he is Spiderman, and he's so used to dealing with that type of crime by himself.

"Nevermind-"

"No, you can't just end it there!" You are flabbergasted, and all Peter can do is blink his pretty brown eyes and hope you forget about this in the morning.

His wish does come true, but not in the way he thought.

After you calm yourself and slam back into reality, your eyes trail over his suit and then his face. You soften as you approach. "What happened? You look so exhausted."

"I always look exhausted somehow," Peter comments. An attempt at humor. Probably not his best.

You lick the tip of your thumb to wipe some grime off his cheek. "Not like this." Your eyes scatter all over his face: his forehead, his other cheek, his nose. You are looking for any scraps or bruises.

Peter finds himself deep in his mind again, remembering the events of the day. Saving a family from a fire, the smoke dancing alongside his suit as he reached into the orange flames. Stopping a couple of bank robbers from stealing at least a good 2 grand.

Seeing Gwen's face in the crowd for the first time in what feels like a lifetime ago.

With how you are right now, fussing over him, cleaning his nose, he doesn't think he would ever be strong enough to admit it.

"Just a lot at once," He states. Peter has never been the best liar. He definitely wonders how he's been able to keep up the charade of Spiderman for this long and keeps wondering how much longer he will be able to.

You give him a look that points right through him, and he forgets how to breathe. "You don't have to tell me now." You brush his shoulders in an attempt to at least rid his suit of some wrinkles. "But, you're not alone anymore in this. Okay?"

He smiles. "It'd be hard to forget."

(Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, Gwen smiles.)

#marvel #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #the amazing spider man #the amazing spider man peter #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker #my writing

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triple-asstro · 1 year

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car troubles | joel miller x reader

word count: 1.7k

pairing: post-outbreak!joel x gn reader

summary: you and joel find bill's letter and talk about it in the car. ellie interrupts with a special surprise.

ao3 link

song: Dream A Little Dream Of Me - Ella Fitzgerald

Cars; it seems like with every passing day, you began to practically live in a car. Of course, you tried to feel lucky that you even had a car, to begin with but after the sixth time sleeping inside one, the sight gets quite boring which meant the brief visit to Bill’s house seemed like unknown territory. The domestic wallpaper and feel of the home felt almost unnatural, considering the horrors and previous buildings you stayed in, it was hard to remember that there was a time when you lived in a fully furnished home where water and electricity came as a guarantee. As Joel was getting a warm shower and dressed upstairs, you were left with Ellie; to make sure that she didn’t ‘burn the goddamn place down’ in Joel’s words.

“Why’s that clock so tall?” Ellie asked.

“Huh?” you responded, looking towards where she pointed to see a rickety old grandfather clock standing against the wall. “It’s a grandfather clock.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ve never seen a grandfather clock before?” you inquired, slightly forgetting that Ellie’s never seen much of the outside world. You approached the clock, swiping some dust off the glass window as Ellie got up from her chair to observe as well.

“Woah, you can see the little spiky circles move!” Ellie exclaimed, trying to point at the inner mechanisms of the clock.

“Cogs,” you stated, swatting her hand away. “Those are cogs, Ellie. Try not to touch them.”

“Fine, I swear I won’t touch the little spiky circles…” she sighed, raising her hands up and landing back into her chair with a huff. You smiled, giving her some form of endearment combated with Joel’s harsh but understandable defences. You’d known the man yourself for as long as you can remember; the first encounter you could remember was when you handed him your extra set of rations cards. That one act of kindness, that one act of selflessness was enough to pique Joel towards you and the rest is history.

As you reminisced on those memories, you heard a thumping noise echo from the stairs. That noise sent you rushing in front of Ellie, pocket knife in hand.

“Joel?!” you called out, uncertainty wobbled your voice. Silence filled the air for about three minutes before Joel appeared through the doorframe wearing a dark green flannel t-shirt and dark blue jeans. His eyes widened at the new sight of you pointing a knife at him with Ellie behind you. “I just dropped something in the shower, no need for the knife.”

“You look… nice,” you mumbled, tucking the knife back in your pocket.

“Yeah, you too,” Joel responded, hanging his head low.

“Hey lovebirds, I’d think you might wanna hear this,” Ellie said, holding an envelope in her hand.

You scoffed at the snide remark and approached behind her, silently skimming the contents. You kept reading until you felt your heart sink at the sight of your name in Bill’s scratchy handwriting.

"I used to hate the world and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong. Because there was one person worth saving. That's what I did: I saved him. And I protected him. That's why men like you and me are here: We have a job to do. And God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave all of my weapons to you and equipment. Use them to keep—"

At this point, Ellie stopped her sentence. She kept curling her lips, biting back whatever snarky remark she had in her mind before you motioned to her to give you the letter. She let her grip go and gave the letter to you, leaving you to read the next part out loud.

“Use them to keep Tess and that person you keep talking about safe. You and I both know that you will since you won’t shut the fuck about them. Just promise me that Joel. Bill.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as your arm lowered down, letting the letter slump down. You’d honestly thought that throughout the entire time, you had known Joel, he was indifferent about you; that to him, you were merely an afterthought. But now, another perspective was flooding your mind, a thought that you meant something to him.

“Joel look, I’m sorry about-“

“Let’s get this straight, we don’t talk about Tess. In fact, we keep our histories to ourselves. Got it?”

“Got it…” Ellie whispered, hanging her head down and twiddling with her fingers. The rest of the journey leaving the house and getting into Bill’s car felt like a mindless haze to you after reading that letter. Did Bill’s writing really tell the truth? Joel talked about you? The thought circled your mind like sheep circling a herder as the car started to roll out of the garage and through the metal gates as the roaring music of Linda Ronstadt started to slowly fade away.

It’d been a few hours since you left Bill’s house and the uncomfortable unease started to seep in. You were now back to gruelling hours in the car instead of the comforting home. You rested your head on the top of the car seat, hearing the thumping noises of the tires hitting the pavement along with the snoring of a sleeping Ellie. When you first met the little child, you were quite surprised to see a kid who still had a sense of childlike glee and swearing like a sailor in this world.

“She asleep?”

“Huh? Oh, yup, laying like a puppy,” you responded, looking back from your seat to see an asleep Ellie laid out on the backseat.

“Heh, good. We’re gonna be driving for another four hours.” Joel said, an annoyed sigh escaped your lips.

“Now I’m starting to wish I was asleep. Kid’s lucky.”

“Then, take a nap. Don’t want you feeling tired.” Joel advised, a soft concern washed in his eyes as you side-eyed him.

“I’m not tired, honest.”

“Well somethin' gotta be on your mind, you’ve been quiet the whole ride.”

You sighed, rolling your head to your right to face Joel. It was hard to articulate every single thought swirling through your brain, but you couldn’t let the awkwardness stay any longer.

“Back at Bill’s, and when Ellie read that letter,” you muttered, the words feeling like heavy stones, “Was that true?”

Joel paused, his eyes fixated on the road as he let out a heavy sigh. You always knew Joel wasn’t exactly a words person; that was evident since day one. You couldn’t blame him since the fungal apocalypse isn’t exactly kind to emotions. It doesn’t care whether that clicker looks like a beloved family member and it sure as hell doesn’t care about simple things like vulnerability. You could find a certain person, someone who lights you up and fills your very being and then, next thing you know they’re being chomped on by a runner and you’re alone again. Some people find that it’s worth it; the vulnerability, if it means getting to be accompanied again if it means feeling that excitement and that spark. Joel knew this well, and originally, he’d been against the idea. But something within his heart told him that this time, it would stay.

“Yeah… it’s true, alright.”

Little did Joel know, those simple words of confirmation made your heart

“Thank you,” you said, making Joel’s head perk up as you flashed him a sweet smile. “That means a whole lot to me.”

“No problem…” he muttered. As you turned back towards Ellie, you noticed a tiny roll of paper barely sticking out of her backpack’s zipper. Curiosity struck you, driving you to sneakily yank the backpack away from the sleeping child and dropped it onto your lap.

As you slowly pulled the roll out of its opening, you could barely stifle your childish giggles. “Oh my fucking god…”

“What?”

“Ellie stole a fucking porn mag from Bill’s.” you snickered, showing the cover towards Joel as he made a shocked expression.

“Jesus fucking christ, that kid’s gonna drive me insane…” he said, a tiny chuckle coming from his mouth only added to your roaring laughter.

“Hey, where’s my backpack?” Ellie groggily asked, eyes widening at the magazine in your hand.

“Look who’s awake, wanna explain this, Ellie?” you teased, tossing the magazine back at her.

Ellie caught the magazine and, catching Joel’s concerned look, began to flip through the pages.

“Don’t read that, Ellie, it’s not for kids.”

“Woah!” Ellie exclaimed as the magazine unravelled vertically, which almost sent you to tears. “How the hell would he even walk around with that thing?”

“Get rid of that, Ellie-”

“Hold your horses, I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

“Oh my god,” you said, wiping tears away from your eyes as Joel shot you a stern look. “This is hilarious.”

“Huh, why are all these pages stuck together?”

Both you and Joel paused, silently trying to formulate how you were going to explain this to Ellie before she let out a chuckle.

“I’m just fucking with you both,” she said, rolling down the rain-covered window and chucking the magazine out. “Bye-bye, dude!”

You watched the magazine tumble and disappear into the misty road before a realization struck your mind and made you search through your pack.

“Y/N, I swear to god-”

“It’s not another one, jeez!” you exclaimed, pulling out an old cassette tape. “It’s this.”

“Ooh hey, Joel, that make you all nostalgic?” Ellie playfully questioned as you handed Joel the cassette.

“You know, this is actually before my time,” Joel answered, putting the cassette in the music player. “Still, this is a classic.”

The words: “Dream A Little Dream Of Me - Ella Fitzgerald” flashed across the tiny screen in fluorescent green as the jazzy melody flooded through the dusty speakers.

Stars shining bright above you Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you" Birds singin' in the sycamore trees Dream a little dream of me

The sharp tune of trumpets and the beautiful scatting vocals lulled you into a sense of comfort once again. It’s moments like these that you yearned for; the comforting moments of peace and calm that to the original world would be normal. Moments that bring a sense of home and togetherness, that’s what people want, especially now. Even in the apocalypse, it’s important to keep your loved ones close and cherish every single moment you have with them, you never know when that moment could be your last.

Say "Night-ie night" and kiss me Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me While I'm alone and blue as can be Dream a little dream of me

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

#joel miller x reader #joel miller hbo #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us spoilers

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kyufessions · 2 years

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Anaheim

inspiration: anaheim by NIKI

context: the note you wrote for keeho one night

warnings: angst (teared up writing this a bit oopsies)

word count: 0.8k

[ part one of the nikiwon series ]

dear stephen yoon,

do you remember that late afternoon we drove around the roads of anaheim with the sun setting gradually, the burnt orange skies fading into the darkness as time pushed us by? we shared joyous laughter for several hours, music blasted with windows rolled down for the entire universe to witness. your happiness was evident, so breathtaking to me. gosh, everything about you was so beautiful. still is. and the kisses you shared with me were always so precious; so soft and tender, full of nothing but love and care. and everytime you kissed me, i wanted to feel that too. not care, because of course i care for you, but love. i prayed every night, asking whatever God(s) may exist for love to appear within me for you. to feel the same exact love you felt for me for all those months we shared. but i never could, and that’s why i’m writing you this as you sleep behind me in your bed.

i’m going to miss the feeling of your rugged carpet under my skin, even though i always crack jokes about it. your soft snores are echoing through your small room right now, making my heart ache but not in the way i wish it were. you’re probably dreaming of me, of our future that i emptily promised in the beginning of our relationship thinking i’d be able to fall for you. but it’s almost eleven months later and every time i whisper those three empty words, i can’t help but feel terrible. like a monster. but why? why can’t i fall for you? why can’t i fall in love with you? why won’t my feelings allow me this? it’s nothing with you, not at all. but with me. my emotions- they aren’t making sense in the slightest. but i don’t want to keep leading you on, so i’m doing this for you. for us.

those late night drives down the same supposed road you always drove on, i lied about remembering it. i never could. i’ve never been good at directions, you know street names were never my forte. but i remember that old bakery at the stop sign with the chipped green paint on the front sign, and the stationary store we always stopped by together just a couple doors down to buy stupid matching pens we’d never use but just display for others to see. my favorite was the thrift shop though- gosh the hours we’d spend in there just trying shit on and (sometimes) not even buying anything. remember when we picked each other terrible outfits and wore it out for a date? best date i will ever be on. i’m keeping my polaroids from that day because, well, i never want to forget you, keeho.

just because i wasn’t able to fall in love with you the way you and i both wanted, doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of being loved. i want you to know that. and remember it forever. i want you to forget me. and the pain i’ve caused. maybe in another universe, however far that universe may be, we’re both sitting on the hood of your car sharing a red velvet cupcake by the beach, the sand surrounding us as the sounds of the waves become background music to our conversation and shared love confessions. maybe in another lifetime we ended up together, and we stayed together until we turned to dust and bone. but for some reason, this universe we’re both stuck in doesn't want us to end up together. it doesn’t want us to have that happy ending we both crave, the ending we both deserve. and i’m sorry i can’t change fate to have our lives interlocked for the rest of our days.

i can tell my love hurts you. i can tell you feel my words have no meaning when i say i love you. and when i say that i’ll love you forever. it hurts me to see you love me so hard that you’d sacrifice yourself for me, and to notice the overflowing hearts in your eyes bulge out whenever you listen to me intently, when i can’t even reciprocate those feelings properly. fuck, keeho, this hurts. i just. im so sorry. in the morning, i’ll be gone and i’ll become nothing but a distant memory to you. eventually. hopefully.

your heart deserves to be held in the highest regards with the most tender hands you could ever hold within your own, not in my cracked ones that have thorns embedded into them. keeho stephen yoon, im sorry for entering your life and leaving abruptly. i’m sorry for entering your life that one afternoon at our campus welcoming party. and i’m sorry for not ending this sooner to save us more heartbreak. i’ll always remember you and have you with me. until the next life, my lost love.

sincerely,

your past life lover.

#kyufessions p1harmony #kyufessions nikiwon #p1h #p1harmony keeho #p1h keeho #keeho imagines #keeho fluff #yoon keeho #keeho angst #p1harmony fluff #p1h fluff #p1h imagines #p1h angst #p1harmony angst

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drowsyscatterbrain · 1 year

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damn, another dream about meeting WH character in a weird place huh-

it was howdy this time. guess my brain decided that obsessing on one puppet ain’t enough /hj

anyways imma copy paste it cuz i don’t really have the energy to wrestle it into a more refined shape asdfghgfd

I woke up standing in a forest, it was ridiculously dark.

Anything beyond my focal point are just pitch black. But that didn’t bother me too much, cuz either my face or my eyes were flashlights. So besides feeling slightly uneased, at least I didn’t have to run into trees every 5 seconds.

And I was tasked with placing / maintaining lights. Had to make sure every corner are bright so no scary creatures will spawn. The air was moist, chilly and smell of earth and dead leaves. I was shivering a little bit from only wearing a T-shirt and pants. But otherwise, not much thoughts were in my head, I just started working right away.

It's like one of those level editor games, just pull up a hover screen and boop one of those 'light' icon, then one would pop into existence, already set up and working. All I had to do was adjust its angle by facing the same way the light shined, touching it with my hand and tilting my head, as the light follows my head as long as my hand is on it, then let go to keep it in place.

About a couple dozen lights later, a new task was assigned when I was squatting on one of them and spacing out: Howdy got drunk from tap water and wandered off. (how tho) And now I need to find him and lead him back to safety.

So I set off, there were lots of speed walking, gets chased by a few smaller 'creatures' a couple of times, but eventually I found our worm man. Stumbling around aimlessly and mumbling nonsense under his breath.

Can't remember if I opened my mouth to talk or not. But i managed to get his attention, while standing a couple meters away. After I made sure his focus is on me, I told him it isn't safe in here, and we need to go. Took him a few moments to process, but eventually he did, as he started to approach me.

Crinkles of dead leaves almost echoed through the darkness with each of his wobbling footsteps, stopping when we're at one step away from each other. He was oddly silent, as he stood there swaying slightly with half lidded eyes, trying to focus on my face.

Then as I reached out to take one of his hands, he did something I never expected: He closed the distance, dropped to his knees, and pulled me against him with his 4 arms. His face smushed against my shoulder as he almost squeezed the life out of me, both of us almost toppled over from him putting half of his weight on that hug. Had to take a step back to prevent that. I still remember hearing & feeling my shoe scraping against the forest floor for saving us both from getting mud on our clothes. He was warm, the embrace instantly chased away the cold. He didn't have a heartbeat, but I heard, and felt him breathe during the entire time I'm trapped against him. He said something after I adjusted my balance, and a few seconds later I responded, while reaching behind his back to pluck off some leaves and twigs that stuck on his apron strap.

At one point I hugged back with my right arm, cuz my left one was squished between us and the position didn't really allow me to break it free. Our convo was fairly short, yet it felt like forever. As we both needed a few moments before coming up with an answer, and me having to keep making sure no creatures were lurking nearby at the same time. He gave another squeeze at some point during the converse, but much weaker this time.

Eventually he calmed down from whatever was going on in his head and let go, albeit rather slowly. Ending our conversation along the way. The feeling of pins and needles exploded in my left arm as he put one of his hands on my shoulder to stand up, then after he's back on his feet, I bent down, and flicked off the leaves and debris on his pants.

After that, I took him by his second left hand, and started leading him out of the forest.

I woke up before I get to see if I ever got him out of there, smh-

#i'm still lowkey going bonkers tbh #just sitting here #rotating all the small details in my head like fiddling with marbles #actually u know what-#U KNOW WHAT??#maybe i'm highkey obsessed after all #got a big o' hug from him #no way i'm gonna be calm from remembering that #i'M GOING CRAZY I'M TELLING YA-#AND IMMA YELL #HIS HAND WAS STUPIDLY LARGE LIKE #IT STRAIGHT UP ENGULFED MINE AND HE WASN'T EVEN AWARE OF THAT #DUDE WAS HALF ASLEEP THE ENTIRE TIME NOT EVEN REALIZING HOW GOD DAMN MUCH COMFORT HE GAVE ME FROM THAT HUG #even though he almost crushed my ribcage at the start but idgaf-#that hug chased away the cold and killed all the static in my head #i just...felt calm. like everything is ok now.#how crazy is that #and allll the other details...oh boi.#didn't feel a heartbeat from being pressed against him but he was breathing #felt it over my shoulder #i felt his antenna flicking via my stray hair #the small noises of his clothes shifting as he adjusted his 2 sets of arms around me #also the texture of his striped shirt and his apron when i reached my hand behind him #how tf can a dream have this much detail is beyond me #they're all very vivid as well #Welcome Home #howdy pillar #welcome home howdy #drowzy's dreams #Rambling in the tags

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thewolfseries · 2 years

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Rotherwood: House of Hell: True Paranormal #1

Houses are living things. I’ve said it before. They see, hear and breathe. Sometimes, I think, they breathe in what we put into them and when they exhale, they put out whatever they took in to begin with only now it has changed into something new, be it an echo of happiness or silent screams of sorrow. Sometimes, I feel, they take in something awful and then breathe out something truly hellish. This toxic cloud of negative energy-or whatever etheric matter is made of- moves, slinking from room to room, drifting on the edges of our consciousness until it can feel inside of our minds, taking on twisted forms and degenerate shadows plucked from our fears and worries. Or maybe, just maybe, could it be that something once lived that was so vile, so cruel and inhumane, that the very fabric of whatever lays beyond this life rejects it and it becomes trapped here, with us, walking side by side, waiting to prey again?

Such could be the place with a location in Kingsport, Tennessee.

Sitting on the very banks of the Holston River, high on a hill, sits a majestic manor home with red bricks, dark shutters and breath-taking thirty-foot high Doric columns that line the front porch, giving anyone who stands on that porch a commanding view of the river and the lands beyond. At three stories tall, this stately home is in fact, the source of all of Kingsport or what would be the town later on. Its intricate ties to our home city make it a source of great pride and haunting creeping dread for those that live near it. Some of us bear the scars quite literally from the house and its long and sordid history. It even has a name, a name pulled from the works of Sir Walter Scott: Rotherwood. Rotherwood, as so many places like it began, did not begin with malice or evil but its fate and often those who are tied to it, was doomed the moment the first brick was laid.

In the later part of the 18th century, a young man named Fredrick Ross and his family inherited a large parcel of land of several hundred acres along the north and south forks of the Holston River. The land ran from Bay’s Mountain to almost the Virginia border. Ross and his family were very wealthy and were respected in the area. Ross himself would later go on to lay out the town of King’s Port/Rossville, which obviously later became the Kingsport we know today. Like most wealthy families in the south at the time, Ross did own slaves. He also had several indentured white servants as well but he was not known to be a cruel man. He treated his slaves well, considering the circumstances of the immorality of the institution of slavery. Unlike many southern slave owners, he did not engage in wanton cruelty.

In 1818, the work on the majestic plantation house that was Rotherwood was finished. Taking the name from Sir Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe, the house and grounds were truly the showplace and entertainment center of the entire region. With curved driveways, column lined porches, hanging floral gardens, and even a pool on the roof, Rotherwood was every bit the dream home of the Ross family. Ross had several children but everyone remembers his daughter Rowena the best. With her raven hair and fair complexion, she was considered to be the most beautiful creature in the entire area and she had an education and manners to back it up. Well-liked and kind to everyone she met, slaves included, Rowena had many young men chasing after her hand in marriage but there was only one gentleman that caught her affections and held them close.

Ross himself was beyond happy with his daughter’s choice and went on to build another Rotherwood across the river from the main house for his daughter and her soon to be family. He relished the idea of being a grandfather and the new house was completed. It was an exact replica of Rotherwood itself but instead of red brick, the entire house was done entirely in white. Unfortunately, it never was lived in because it burned to the ground not long after it was completed. Perhaps that was an omen of things to come. Perhaps not but what did happen next was nothing short of devastating. Perhaps this event on a day of joy was what started the downward spiral of Rotherwood into darkness.

On her wedding day, Rowena and her family and the groom and his family had gathered before the ceremony, laughing and rejoicing. The groom and several of his friends decided to try their hand at fishing before he married his beaming wife to be. Taking a small boat out onto the Holston, the men were in plain sight of the house and as Rowena watched, her life changed and fate dealt her a cruel hand.

The Holston River is notorious for its dangerous currents and eddies and somehow, the boat the men were in capsized, spilling them into its icy depths. Everyone on shore watched in horror as the men floundered in the water, the surging currents pulling them down. Miraculously, three of the four men made it back to shore but to Rowena’s devastation, her true love did not surface again. In fact, his body was never recovered.

Rowena was devastated by his loss and fell into a deep depression. The once vibrant beautiful young woman became a virtual recluse, secluding herself away in her third floor bedroom, looking out of her window at the river, silently mourning her lost life and love.

For the next two years, Rowena saw no one but gradually began to come out again, socializing in small bursts until a man happened to cross her path and again, she felt the pull of love calling to her. This rich young man was from Knoxville and while he was not her first true love, she was willing to try again. She was able to marry this man. Fate however struck once again, another shock wave of grief slamming into her as her new husband died not long after their wedding vows from yellow fever. Once again, Rowena fell into a depression and this time, it did not break for more than a decade.

One last time, Rowena tried to be happy and she did marry again and this time, her life seemed to be on the right track. She even had a daughter with her new husband and for six years, she finally seemed to find happiness but something was just never quite right. It is unknown how or why but what is known is how her story finally came to its tragic end. What is known is this. During a vacation back at Rotherwood to see her father, Rowena said that she had seen the ghost of her first love, her true love. She had said that she had heard his ghostly voice calling to her and had seen his pale white hand reach out from the dark waters of the Holston and beckon to her.

That night, she slipped into her wedding gown, the garment flowing behind her like angel’s white wings as she made her way silently outside late at night, barefoot, following the trail to the shores of the river before slowly and calmly wading into the water, walking until the water was up to her neck and finally, she vanished below the surface, taking her own life.

From that point the fate of Rotherwood was doomed to be a bleak one. The once happy Fredrick Ross was himself in a deep depression over the loss of his daughter and in the years leading up to the Civil War, he made several business decisions that seemed to backfire, huge losses and failed investments that cost him dearly. His overseer, Joshua Phipps, was also his bookkeeper. Strangely, he never seemed to understand why his employer’s ventures were failing.

Ross saw only one way out of the failing plantation and made a heart breaking decision. He sold Rotherwood plantation to the only person that he knew could afford it and the losses it had taken: Joshua Phipps. Before he completed the sale, however, Ross made one decision that was a harbinger of the hell to come. He freed as many of his slaves as he could before transferring ownership to Phipps. These freed slaves settled further away from Rotherwood into Hawkins County in a place named Zion Hill. Among those that were freed were the ancestors of the future singer and actress, Diana Ross, whose family had taken the Ross family name as their own because Ross himself was a kind man. Ross had freed the slaves because he knew what was coming, the storm that was incarnate in a man named Joshua Phipps. Ross left his once happy manor and grounds and the remaining slaves he could not free in the hands of Phipps and left by carriage to his fate. He would die years later as a broken man.

Phipps, on the other hand, would have a short but unforgettable tenure as lord and master of Rotherwood plantation.

Even before his death, Phipps was known in his day for his malice, his cruelty and his irritable nature. The only thing that held him in check as overseer of the slaves and grounds was the hand of his employer, Ross. Now that Ross was out of the picture, Phipps had total control of the manor and the slaves and it is not hyperbole to say that hell was unleashed the day he took control.

Rotherwood began to change; slave cells were added inside the basement with dirt walls, dirt floors and no windows with only one opening. The “field slaves” were forced to huddle into the small room at night. Iron bars were set into the one opening with no glass or protection from the elements. On the third floor, a whipping post was built into the walls.

Virgealia “Jill” Ellis of Kingsport spoke to the Douglass Alumni Blog about her experiences working at the plantation as a child and the treatment her family had experienced while under Phipps’ cruel hand.

(Virgealia “Mama Jill” Ellis)

“I grew up on the 2,500 or so more acres of Rotherwood land. My mother, Inez Looney was the cook and my father, James Looney, was the chauffeur, the butler and the mansion maitre’d. As a child, I had to go into this area [the slave cells] almost every day because the food mother canned was stored in the basement and the laundry facility was also in this area. The stench was embedded in the ground—the darkness and the dampness was sometimes overpowering. One could imagine hearing the moaning, the wailing, the crying of the slaves, their misery and despair. If a slave was maimed, he was shot like an animal because he was of no more use. In the front room of the third floor facing the river, was the whipping post. Slaves were shackled to the post to be whipped. The blood stains are still embedded into the wood floors of that room…during days of heavy moisture, the wood would expand and the blood stains would show up again…” (Douglass Riverview News and Current Events, 2016).

Phipps built the post into the house because he enjoyed hearing his slaves scream. In fact, he was known to be so vicious with them, to beat them so furiously, that neighboring plantations and landowners reported hearing the screams of the slaves echoing off of the mountains as Phipps would torture them. Astoundingly, Phipps was not alone in his evil. He had a mistress on the side (his wife knew about it and was too scared and powerless to stop him) who was a slave herself, a half black woman who was reported to be as cruel to her fellow slaves if not crueler than Phipps himself was.

His evil did not stop at the slaves and his treatment of them. Phipps was just as cruel with his own family and had a strange request about his death. As recounted by a former slave in October of 1975, a woman named Aunt Vic Phipps told Edward Stewart in article about Rotherwood just how far his evil went. Aunt Vic was a slave before the Civil War and she told Stewart about hiding in the reeds and ditches so when slave traders would come, she would not be sold away from her mother. Aunt Vic told Stewart that Phipps was often overheard stating that when he died, he wanted to be buried standing up on the top of the hill at Rotherwood, so he could always be looking down into the bottoms and see the slaves working. (Kingsport Times, 1975).

(Aunt Vic Phipps).

Phipps had a daughter, Pricilla, who had fallen in love with a young man, a farm hand. The Civil War had struck and her young suitor was called off to battle. Phipps hated the young man and had him murdered in action, telling his daughter what he did and why he did it. Pricilla herself died from depression and grief at the age of twenty, a widow. There was a short battle on the grounds of Rotherwood during the war but as fate would have it, there was one last nightmarish tragedy set to unfold on the grounds, one that would leave its scars, physically and echoes of terror for years to come.

In the summer of 1861, Phipps himself fell ill. The doctors could not explain his condition. He was feverish, almost delusional. Afraid of contagion, the cruel man now debilitated by sickness, was moved out and quarantined into the carriage house. A young slave boy was assigned to keep watch over him and to fan him to keep him cool. For days, Phipps lingered, half awake in fever with labored breathing until finally, death came for Phipps in a way that only a man of his nature could deserve. In fact, no one has an explanation for his death or the circumstances in which it occurred. Can a man be so evil that death itself manifests directly and comes to take him from this world? Maybe.

One sweltering afternoon, the slave boy was fanning Phipps as he was assigned when suddenly Phipps for the first time in days snapped fully awake. His eyes roving wildly in their sockets seem to fixate on a point high in the air above and behind the young boy. Turning to see what his master saw the boy himself let out a blood curdling scream of absolute horror.

A sickly buzzing cloud had begun to form in mid-air, wriggling and swarming and it took the boy all of two seconds to realize what it was: hundreds of flies.

The cloud of flies got thicker and thicker until finally the entire cloud itself descended onto Phipps, covering his face, crawling and running all over his his forehead, their tiny hairy legs poking into his open eyes, as they rammed themselves up his nostrils, into his ears and finally down his open screaming mouth. The swarm was so thick that Phipps finally started to suffocate, choking to death on the living buzzing flies. Unrelenting, the flies kept coming as the young boy, scared out of his mind, watched his master quickly go into spasms as his tormentor and owner’s lungs filled with the insects as Phipps finally died with a buzzing death rattle.

Finally regaining his senses, the boy bolted off to the house to get help. When he returned with family and the doctor, Phipps lay dead, his eyes staring up, his mouth slack and frozen on his face was a look of terror.

There wasn’t a fly in sight. They had vanished as though they had never existed at all.

His death was something out of the books of hell but Joshua Phipps was not to be gotten rid of so easily. His funeral, even today, is something of legend around locals who’s great-great grandparents were there and who passed the story down to their descendants. One such descendant, folklorist and historian Dr. Nancy Acuff, personally confirmed that what is about to be typed was true, as told to her from the first person account of her great great grandfather who was present at the event and told her father and then to her.

The funeral of the most hated man in Kingsport was more of a social event of the summer than the somber occasion it should have been, though I do have to wonder just how upset Phipps’s wife and remaining family were, but that’s neither here or there.

The funeral casket was to be pulled by two large horses, up and around to the cemetery plots on the grounds. During the funeral, it seemed that a storm was coming the wind picking up the skirts and clothing of those around and making the black covering on the casket move ever so slightly, just enough to make one wonder if the man himself were really dead.

As the procession up the hill began, the two horses began to struggle, digging deep furrows into the earth, as though the simple cart and casket were too heavy for them to budge. Unable to move the casket, two more horses were attached and slowly, the hearse began to move again, each horse straining to make the wheels turn with its unnatural weight. Overhead the sky began to grow from a promise of rain into a churning sky as thunder began to snarl. Just before they reached the cemetery, a bolt of lightning snapped down out of the black clouds, cutting a tree in two, knocking the trunk violently across the path, blocking the road. The onlookers were worried and began to mutter about evil and God as the pallbearers simply picked up the casket and carried it to the open grave side where the pastor stood waiting to lay the man inside to rest.

As the pastor began to give Phipps his final words, the river below the gathering began to bubble and churn, as if it were boiling, the currents moving so fast the water itself was muddy. The thunder above grew worse and a movement drew the eyes of the crowd.

The casket, under its dark cloth, was moving.

It was vibrating, as though something inside wanted out, badly. They heard the scrabbling of what sounded like claws against wood and with a roar, a gigantic black dog blasted out of the casket, bolting out from under the black cloth as the attendants screamed in terror. The dog snarled at them with its gleaming eyes before bolting off across the grounds and vanishing into the woods.

The casket itself was unharmed. It seemed to be an impossibility. Shaken and now thoroughly scared, the onlookers rushed the pastor who himself was shaken ashen white. Finishing the rites, Phipps’s coffin was hastily buried and as the onlookers moved to go back down the hill, the first drops of ice cold rain began to fall. There was another sound, some would swear to later to their children and neighbors, a sound that mingled with the thunder: the sound of laughter and they said the voice belonged to Joshua Phipps.

Two weeks later, Rotherwood was still moving on, though without one of its cruelest taskmasters, it was somewhat quieter. The remaining family began to whisper of things moving in the shadows of the house, of hearing animal feet running through the hallways and most horrifying of all, that the laughter and sound of Joshua Phipps stalking his way around the home as he would appear at night at the foot of the bed and yank the bed clothes off, keeping anyone from sleeping. But it wasn’t only the family that had these troubles. The slaves were coming in droves to the point of a riot to claim that the ghost of Joshua Phipps had risen from the grave along with a giant black dog to torment them every night. Fed up with such reports, the new overseers and the family to calm their own fears agreed that Phipps’s grave would be dug up to prove once and for all that the man was truly dead.

Opening the grave turned out to offer more mysteries and terror than anyone imagined. The coffin was still there and once opened, it was empty, all but a few large black animal hairs. Stunned, no one knew what had become of his body as the dirt on the grave had not been disturbed. Not longer after, violence struck Rotherwood again as the slaves, unable to bear the torment from their unseen attackers, revolted, destroying Phipps’s headstone, desecrating his grave and finally, at last, killing their last torturer, Phipps’s equally cruel mistress, the mulatto woman. They beat her to death and what happened to her body is unknown.

Rotherwood itself was purchased by the US government in 1940, and Mrs. Ellis and her family moved away to North Carolina. Years later, Mrs. Ellis would resettle in Kingsport and share her story. But it wasn’t the end of Rotherwood. Passing through several owners, the current owner is a prominent OBGYN at the local medical campus. She began to renovate and restore the home to its former glory. She has fully succeeded in her goal, turning her home into a stunning memorial to the past as well as once again giving Rotherwood an inhabitant to call it home. Even in modern times, however, Rotherwood still holds darkness in its heart.

During the renovations, the owner and her friend were both at the house as workmen were working on plumbing and wiring in the basement, where the former slave cells were located. One of the workman claimed that his partner suddenly looked up from his work and froze in place, his skin going white and his eyes widening like a deer in headlights. Without preamble, his partner began to scream and run, fleeing up the stairs as if he was running for his life. Astounded, the owner, her friend and the workman watched as the man leaped into the work van, spun gravel out and fled, leaving his tools, and his partner and a stunned owner behind.

Later, the man was calm enough to tell everyone what had happened. He said he had been working and he had looked up when he felt someone staring at him. When he did, he saw a man materialize out of the wall, dressed in a dark suit. Next to him was a gigantic black dog with glowing red eyes, its mouth open, fangs exposed, snarling deep in its throat. The man had looked him, and grinned a sadistic smile and pointed at him. Instantly the dog had leapt for his throat and that’s why he ran, because the dog that no one else could see was chasing him down like a rabbit. He said the dog followed him up out of the basement, to the van and even a little bit down the road before vanishing into thin air. The workman said he would never set a foot on the property again and he never did.

This hound of hell and the apparitions of not only Joshua Phipps, but also that of Rowena Ross, Pricilla and the spirits of slaves murdered on the grounds are said to wander the property. Most of them are harmless, save Phipps and his hound of hell. During thunderstorms, one can hear the hound baying, almost screaming and Phipps is there, unseen, laughing his cruel laugh.

Rotherwood, once a beautiful and happy home was left to die in darkness only to be reborn as a home again, but this time, scarred for what it had breathed in over the years it had been used as both a refuge and a hellish nightmare come to life. What it breathed out was worse than any ghost but rather a monster that still makes local people uneasy about it and the Phipps surname.

There is one last anecdote that I was told by Dr. Acuff years ago when we investigated another local haunted place called Sensabaugh Tunnel (mentioned on this blog). We were standing outside of a river culvert tunnel, often called the Minor Tunnel by local enthusiasts. Sensabaugh Tunnel itself is not haunted and has no connection to Rotherwood but the minor tunnel or rather the land it was built on does and the connection is one drawn in blood.

Back when Rotherwood was still a working plantation, there was a movement locally to help escaped slaves get to Canada as part of the Underground Railroad. Escaped slaves would move under the cover of night and make their way down what is now Big Elm Road, right next to the Holston River. They would hide in the natural enclosed valley that is where the minor tunnel would later be built and wait on a ferryman to come and take them across the river so they could continue their journey to freedom.

One evening, a slave and his wife and three children had escaped a local plantation and had nearly made it to the hiding spot when the slave owner who had discovered them missing finally cornered them on horseback. Despite pleading for their lives, the slave owner brutally murdered them all, shooting the husband and wife plus her two other children. The youngest child was a baby and it lay screaming, covered in blood in its mother’s arms, the bullet having missed it barely. The slave owner coldly picked up the child and slung it over and over into the rocks lining the valley, smashing its brains out and tossing its body aside.

Many in Kingsport know the story or at least the rumors. They know that something bad happened there but Dr. Acuff told me the full story with the understanding that I never reveal the slave owner’s name because his family still lives in the area and are deeply embarrassed about what their ancestor did. I know this man’s identity and I feel justice was eventually served but his connection to Rotherwood will never be undone, nor will his deeds.

Updated November 2022:

I drive past Rotherwood once in a while when I visit my family back in Tennessee. I see it sitting on top of that hill, its windows looking out on the river down below. I know the secrets inside of its walls and now, dear reader, so do you, for better or worse. We should be always be mindful of what we put into a house or anywhere really. They breathe. They exhale. They see. They wait. Sometimes what they breathe out or give birth to after we are gone, isn’t what we put into them but rather a twisted mutation, an aberration, an abomination of our own warped natures that will echo forever within the halls of the damned.

#paranormal #haunted #ghost story #historical

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yandere-sins · 3 years

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Hiii, it's my first time here !! I wonder if you could ask my question, if possible of course of Yandere Geralt of Rivia...

Imagine a scenario where the reader is from our world and went to Geralt's world, then the reader find him at him and tells his story and asks for help to return to his home... Of course, as time goes by, Geralt becomes "sick with love " for the reader to the point of becoming Yandere.

Note: the reader sees Geralt as best friend or older brother.

Thanks for your request ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

You were simply relieved you weren’t alone.

There were a lot of terrible things that could happen to you, reaching from being mauled by a monster to cut down by a sword, and so, so many gruesome things more. Whatever Geralt saw in you, you were glad it didn’t make him leave you alone to your misery, no matter how strange you were.

Truthfully, you weren’t even a good choice as a squire, but aside from grumbling about your unhelpfulness when it came to battle, Geralt hadn’t driven you away. Despite being rough around the edges, he truly was the hero you needed in your predicament, and for that, you were thankful.

Whatever you could do, you did, may it be fetching water or helping set up a tent. While the life of a traveling witcher was nothing you wished to pursue forever, you put up with everything you could so that you wouldn’t end up on your own again. The first week spent stumbling through the wild and running from monsters had been enough bad experience in this world for you. Now, your mind was only on one thing: Getting home.

It probably was a luxury to have Geralt’s help in not dying and achieving your goal, but all the more, you were relieved that whatever power made you fall into this strange world had enough mercy to send you this angel of a man. No matter how many dirty, uncomfortable looks you got for being with him whenever you two came into a town, you would endure them, knowing Geralt was the key to make this situation just a memory and send you back home to your family.

Home. It sounded heavenly.

You sighed deeply, slowly awaking from your slumber. It couldn’t have been long that you fell asleep, the campfire still burning lively next to you. You still felt tired, but something was different than usual. Heavy even.

Pulling down the blanket you had wrapped yourself with, you saw the big arm laying around you, making you realized the heat of a second body in your back. Geralt never slept closer than necessary to you, but without the need to guess, he was definitely sleeping right beside you, spooning you from behind.

With a flushing heat rising to your face, you were too embarrassed to say anything, even though his arm alone was too heavy to fall asleep with again. He might have accidentally fallen asleep next to you after having some drinks before bed and mistaken you for someone to cuddle up to. But waking him wasn’t an option. Geralt struggled with his sleep enough as it is; you wouldn’t dare to interrupt him and cause a scene. But the reality was very different from what you assumed.

You heard him take a deep breath as he buried his face into the nape of your neck, not shy to pull away the fabric covering you and pushing his face into your skin. As you listened to him mutter your name, you felt a cold shudder run down your spine, but you tried not to make him notice you were awake. “[Name], [Name], [Name]...” he mumbled, and you bit your lip. The way he said your name always made it sound reproachful, despite you not remembering what you did wrong that day.

“Look at you, letting your guard down. Don’t you know that I...”

His voice trailed off as you felt him shift suddenly. You reacted quickly, pretending to be fast asleep with your eyes closed and lips slightly parted innocently. Geralt let out a small chuckle before you felt him reach over you, dragging his thumb over your lip. “What are you dreaming about? Your heart is racing.”

Realizing you forgot the first thing about Witcher - their heightened senses - you didn’t know how to help yourself other than stirring a little in your sleep, putting on a frown. Sure enough, that made him halt in his tracks and back away a little, as if he feared you waking up. Only when you settled down again did Geralt relax as well, returning to his spooning position.

“Seriously...” he kept muttering. “How am I supposed to go on like this? Every time we meet a Sorceress, I am afraid she will have a way to send you home.”

Something about his words gave you a sad impression. Almost as if parting would hurt him, but you weren’t sure if this was just your impression or if the tiny bit of his past that he told you about actually gave him this fear. In your eyes, Geralt was fearless and kept his composure no matter what, but what if you had misjudged him?

“I’d like to keep you all to myself. Lock you up and never let you go. Maybe when we get to Kaer Morhen, I could--”

This time, his voice halted suddenly, and he rose again from behind you. “Are you awake?” he asked, quiet still as if he was hoping you were asleep after all. You simply remained in your pretend sleep, taking an audible breather and hoping it would fool him. He remained in this careful stiffness for a while before he finally drew back. Immediately, you were surrounded by the chilly air of the night as his body disappeared, but before you dared to attempt to move around, you heard more of his mumbles.

“No, I can’t. I shouldn’t... It’s not right...”

What couldn’t he do?

You were ready to blame all the gibberish you had just heard on the mead you two had before bed, but the questions didn’t seem to stop circling your mind. Geralt seemed to fall asleep somewhere a bit further away, while you felt wide awake now. You couldn’t believe that Geralt - of all people! - could have developed any kind of feelings for you. But why else would he be worried about your return? Why would he say those things about locking you up?

Way too freaked out, you tried to make sense of what you had witnessed. Certainly, he didn’t want you to be awake as it went down, but now that you knew, you were left conflicted. Part of you kept getting goosebumps as you remembered the feeling of his face pressed into your shoulder and his words echoing in your ear. The other part tried to justify it with any and all reasons like the alcohol, loneliness maybe. There was no sleep for you after all, and Geralt kept stealing irritated glances at you the following day until he finally asked, “Are you okay?”

You flinched after being suddenly addressed, not even your exhaustion able to tear you out of your thoughts that still pondered about the last night. “Oh, yeah! I’m fine,” you tried to assure him, and he contemplated your response for a bit before replying, “There’s this place we should go to next. Maybe we can find some books on portals there.”

“Sounds good,” you chuckled. Nervosity spread inside of you as you hoped he didn’t mean the place that he was talking about last night.

“I grew up there. You might even be able to sleep in a bed for a change. Kaer Morhen is also safe and...”

After that part, your mind simply shut off as the word kept repeating over and over in your head. Kaer Morhen. Kaer Morhen. Kaer Morhen. Kaer Morhen.

Kaer Morhen, lock up, never let go.

“...and it isn’t far from here,” he finished his explanation, looking at you as he waited for an answer while you could feel the horror showing in your expression. The red flags were so abundantly clear by now, but you absolutely refused to think this way about him. He wasn’t a bad man, he would never... or?

There were a lot of terrible things that could have happened to you on this journey, but you had put all your trust into Geralt to keep you safe. To help you. To be a companion so you wouldn’t be lonely. And until the end, you hoped Geralt wouldn’t turn out to be the monster or the sword you feared so much.

But who could tell what he’d do when he finally had a taste of living out the things he desired?

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hollyhomburg · 3 years

Text

Of Fire and Love (Pt. 7)

(Dragon! Yoongi x Reader) (Fantasy au!) (Coe-parenting au)

Summary: You dream, nightmares and sweet memories- Yoongi just tries to hold onto you as best he can but he’s never felt so lonely.

Genre: Fantasy! au, gender exploration, Coe parenting au, Dragon! Yoongi x Reader, Dragon! Hoseok x Sorcerer! jungkook, Minjoon, Taejin

W/c: 20.0k

Tags: Angst, loss of hold on reality, violence, non-explicit sexual content (taejin), possessive behavior, genderfluid characters, gender non conforming characters, gender exploration, alcohol mention,

A/n: For those of you who've followed this story you’ll know that I’ve teased there being a hopekook relationship and this chapter touches on their relationship a lot. i dont think it will make anyone uncomfortable because its explicitly stated their love is not sexual- but just a heads up!

- Hoseok and Jungkook cling to the side of a building, their feet gripping the bare inch bricks just narrowly. This library is old, with drafty long hallways and a crumbling facade that doesn't help their predicament, every other brick crumbles when they step to it.

- Every few shimmies Jungkook’s feet slip a little and fear lurches in his gut. he uses every bit of his body to cling. Hoseok has no such misgivings about falling into open space- now the arrows- that might frighten him. Their backs are weighed down with books that make it hard to move, while arrows clang below them against the red stone.

- One almost hits Jungkook’s head and Hoseok shoves it closer to the wall. Panic keeping it laced in Jungkook’s hair, “Keep your head in you idiot!” he shouts over the din and clank of metal armor. The nights and soldiers below them that gather. Every metallic clink against the stone another person come to kill them. Jungkook only grins, but flinches when one strikes closer to Hoseok’s head.

- Searching for books in the human realm isn’t an easy task. Not when all too often they face opposition like this. The humans might be semi-hostile to Jungkook but everyone is out for dragon blood. Enough of the men from this area have already been sent west to the war, but the sheer number of arrows shows that there are still soldiers here guarding this stronghold.

- They hadn’t been here until Jungkook and Hoseok had been spotted. It had been Jungkook’s fault. Dropping a book that echoed loudly- then someone had seen Hoseok’s horns when his hood had fallen and it was all over from there- they’d been made.

- One arrow pins Hoseok’s shirt to the brick as they shimmy along and he rips it loose without a second thought. He can’t shift when it’s like this- it’s too dangerous. Too likely that one of those arrows would hit him and hurt him- unless- “Kookie? any day now!?” Jungkook’s wide eyes are a balm against Hoseok’s frustration, lighting up with blue magic when he puts two and two together. “Oh! Sorry- I’ve got it!”

- The push-pull tide of magic fills the air, trembling with it as Jungkook’s arm glows bright blue along with the whites of his eyes. Every time Jungkook uses his magic Hoseok feels a protective pride flare. Especially when he hears and sees the arrows fall to the ground with a few dozen thuds. Another soldier tries to loose one and it falls like it’s made of lead. Maybe it actually is- maybe that’s the avenue the magic has chosen to take to stop the arrows.

- The soldiers below them stop their flurry brought to awe as the magic makes everything still (even them). The rust crusts in the joints of the armor bringing it to a squeaky halt. The break in the fighting finally gives him an opening to shift. And soon Hoseok is clinging to the side of the tower with claws instead of hands, wings stretching and fluttering. Jungkook gets on his back, a difficult maneuver with the precious books held close.

- One of them slips out and falls onto the stone, and Hoseok swings back around so that Jungkook can lean from his back, hooking his foot around one of Hoseok’s spines and reaching to scoop it up before he rights himself- abdominal muscles straining As he leans over and snatches it from the rooftop.

- Hoseok makes a noise and Jungkook interprets it. “Who you calling a showoff?“ he grins then settles in for a long flight back into dragon territory. A simple strap around Hoseok’s waist keeps Jungkook pinned to his back. It helps to at least elevate some of the strain.

- The first time they’d ever flown 12 hours straight, Jungkook had slid off of his back with a thunk. Looking up surprised at Hobi who’d sniffed through his hair worriedly, wondering why he’d fallen. “I don’t think I can move my legs” his muscles too sore to even clench.

- Hoseok had been laughing when he’d shifted. Helping pull Jungkook up- only to have him fall back down again. “You look like a baby deer Koo, come on- help me unpack at least.” They’d spent the rest of the night huddled around the fire, and not once had Hoseok complained about having to get up to fix dinner or stoke the fire.

- Hoseok and Jungkook have been hunting books on and off for the last ten years, it’s not like they’re unused to unprovoked aggression from the humans. Their two sides are at war- and it’s a wonder the humans aren’t more curious about the ragtag pair of book thieves that have been periodically dipping over the battle lines and raiding their libraries.

- Jungkook wonders what rumors if any, are lingering in the human lands. Jungkook would give anything to keep the smile Hoseok shoots him when he asks one night, “What you think they’ll make urban legends about us in 100 years? Keep your books close and your enemies closer?”

- Whatever the rumors, the pair can only hope that none of them make it back to their father and their uncle. If yoongi got wind of what Hoseok and Jungkook were doing without permission- then he might be tempted to end the war just to make sure they stayed safe. But What Yoongi doesn’t know won’t hurt him. If Hoseok and Jungkook were flitting in between the human lands and the dragon lands on occasion just to see if the nearest city even had a library- well then that’s just that.

- Hoseok and Jungkook never spend more than a month or two away from Yoongi and you. The timing of their homestays Often hinging on how successful their search is going and how many books they’ve collected. Hoseok can only carry so much on his back. They don’t mind coming back periodically to visit and drop off another load. If anything- it gives Seokjin and Yoongi an excuse to take a break or two and the young ones an excuse to enjoy a little coddling.

- Yoongi’s doing better, recently he’s started taking more flights like he used to when Jungkook was a kid. The air does him good and he no longer looks like guilt and sadness and longing are eating away at his soul- like he only comes alive when you wake.

- Over the years, Yoongi has read himself into a tizzy more than once. Always to be brought back by Seokjin encouraging him to rest his eyes and put the books down for a day or two. “This just doesn’t make any fucking sense- first the fairy anatomy and then this- if we could only get our hands on- ugh!“

- Yoongi is about to throw the book and would have if Jin hadn’t caught his wrist. snatching it out of the younger mans hand. Before he can- sparks light up the spine. Yoongi’s anger and fire meeting in the middle- the heat dosent hurt Seokjin’s hand as he extinguishes it with a brush of his palm. Cooling yoongi’s frustration with a knowing look.

- “Yoongi, you need to sleep.” Yoongi doesn’t fight him on it though both of them know he could if he wanted to. He’s been up for days and the bags under his eyes look dangerously like bruises. “Rest is an investment into future productivity Yoongi- you can’t read forever like this without resting your eyes every now and then.”

- Yoongi has always found it hard to sleep with you gone, why waste the hours when every second spent brings them closer to a cure for mortality. Yoongi hopes it’s only a matter of time and not a matter of ‘if’ they’ll be successful. that question keeps him awake no matter how many days it’s been since he slept.

- The next time the boys come home carrying a pile of books for Seokjin and Yoongi to go through Seokjin gives them a look, fingering the spine of one. He corners both of them later- when Yoongi’s away in the kitchens putting a meal together. Happy to have them all home the nesting instinct itching under his skin.

- He fingers the edge of Hoseok’s shirt, his fingers hooking through an edge and tearing it further with a rip. His magic flares just as quickly to fix it and the tear is gone before the shock has left Hoseok’s face. Seokjin raises an eyebrow at Hoseok’s surprise. Seokjin is dressed in a flowy deep plum shirt- parted to show his chest, the rock at the hollow of his throat pulsing with life but swimming with something darker.

- He’s rightfully angry, “I know an arrow hole when I see one, where have you both been where you’ve been being shot at? Hopefully not in the human world” He taps the side of the book in his hands, “And I distinctly remember losing this book over a night of cards with a wizard 300 years ago- so there’s that too.”

- “It was only once-“ Seokjin gives them a withering look and they both melt “okay- maybe more than a few times, but you know how frustrating it was? For us to stay behind and-”

- Seokjin knows why they had to but still can’t reconcile that with his protective instincts. Before they can go any farther Yoongi comes back with a plate full of sliced meats. The fireplace crackles happily in response to him and Hoseok helps Yoongi set up a grate to fry it. The same recipe for marinated meat that you used to make them when they were children. A celebratory meal steeped in tradition and familiarity to welcome Hoseok and Jungkook home.

- Hoseok starts the discussion when Seokjin asks- pointedly if finding libraries and old dragon castles in the countryside and in the mountains had been any harder than usual. It has been- they ran out of places to search for books in the dragon lands years ago. Though they still occasionally spot a new one when they go over the mountains again. A hidden hovel or a falling down castle that’s abandoned or inhabited.

- “You’ve said it yourself Seokjin; a good portion of our family's records are on the other side of the world. I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal, Hoseok and I are more than capable of looking after ourselves.”

- Seokjin sighs, running his hands through his hair. Whatever spell he uses to keep it dark must be wearing off, the tips are looking a little silvery these days, it’s Probably stress. The pile of books in the study that they’ve gone through is becoming cumbersome as well they can barely walk around it. There are probably more than 30,000 that Hoseok and Jungkook have collected in the last 10 years.

- What Jungkook’s saying about their family isn’t wrong; Seokjin’s family did settle on the human side of the mountains first. They were responsible for enlightening humanity to the finer parts of magic. Without Seokjin’s family- the humans would probably still be waving sticks around and hoping for gold on the other end. The books they hunt for are the first records and spell books of witches and wizards that were taught by Seokjin’s father or books from the man himself.

- Not that their paltry party tricks could ever compare to the kind of magic that Seokjin and Jungkook were capable of. But the witches and wizards guilds do have strength in numbers. One which might have a droplet compared to the ocean of a sorcerer’s power, but 100? 1,000? That might be enough to match some spells.

- If the struggle at the border was enough to judge the powers of the guild, then they certainly were a formidable force to deal with. Their spells enchanting the humans swords and armor, making them resistant if not impervious to most fire. That was the only reason why the dragons hadn’t been able to immediately decimate the human army. They had to fight the harder way- with tooth and claw and brute force.

- The dragons would always have strength on their side and the humans would always have the numbers and carelessness with their lives. So short- you’d think they’d be more careful with their lives- but no. Over the years the death tolls have risen on both sides. It helps the human’s odds that they outnumber the dragons five to one.

- It’s been years since they left home- though it still feels weird to think of them ‘leaving’ in any capacity since they still come back almost as much as they leave. In the past few years, Hoseok and Jungkook have often flown across the battle lines or near them. But never close enough to see the battle or the carnage.

- Most of the time they divert their course north and fly over the tall mountains through brisk winds that would have Jungkook's muscles chilled for hours. a predicament usually only fixed by Hoseok curling up with his warm throat and chest cuddled around his too cold soulmate. quieting the protective urge in his stomach that said to breathe fire over the sorcerer- some sort of instinct, probably something instinctively dragon that he barely manages to repress.

- They’ve hunted books through the crags of long empty castles, through cities forgotten and new. They spend a good two months last year in the smaller dragon city to the south. Yoongi sniveled his nose up at them when they told him that’s where they wanted to go next. It felt a lot different than the northern city, the buildings rough made from wood and easily burnt and rebuilt. Definitely wilder and less aristocratic than the north.

- It’d burned down in the last war- so it’s no wonder the dragons there seem less attached to the buildings. some dragon had lit their board house on fire the first night they’d been there, roused from smoke and a shout. hoseok had shifted and carried jungkook out with his teeth hooked into jungkook’s shirt- lifting the younger like a cat would a kitten.

- Seokjin had gifted a map to Hoseok for his last birthday. It’s a delicate bit of magic, spelled to be paper-thin and bendable but the ink never fading or flaking off. Unable to be ripped or stained. The little red dot that shows Hoseok’s location and a black dot for Jungkook's. It changes each time they move- so that they know exactly where they are. Hoseok’s dot even gets a little more feathery when he shifts. The ink feeling fuzzy to the touch.

- The battle lines to the south also change too, rusty orange ink rough to the touch- with every league that the dragons push into the human lands ticking a lines with on the map. all So that hoseok knows how far he has to fly out of the way to avoid it if he wants too.

- Jungkook is just a little bit curious to see what dragons look like in battle, but a cautionary look from Jin and his father was enough to extinguish that possibility. “Trust me- it’s not a thing you should want to see” their father had said cryptically. “You never talk about the last war dad- what was it like?”

- “Bloody and long” was all Yoongi had answered. Because in truth- he’d given as much as he could give to that war. The end had left him broken and with the taste of blood in his mouth that just wouldn’t leave. He’d spent months looking for something in the mountains- an itch under his skin that wasn’t for more hoard.

- The wanting hadn’t abated until he met you and known deep in his bones that he’d never fight for another thing in his life. he’d found what his dragon soul hungered for more than gold or diamonds or anything that glitterd. a family- his hatchlings and his mate.

- But Hoseok and Jungkook are fully grown now and Yoongi still finds himself begging them not to go close to that battle- to stay out of it. Feeling like control and safety is slipping through his claws. The thought of both of them- of gentle Hobi and curious Jungkook getting a taste for carnage like that- Yoongi doesn’t ever want it to happen.

- Even though they already did that day in the manor house all those years ago. Still- a father can’t help but want to protect his hatchlings. Even if they’re both taller than him now they’re still his hatchlings. Jungkook especially likes to playfully lean his arm on his shoulders And Yoongi can’t ever correct him. He would let the youngster do anything without little more than an annoyed sigh, just as he had let him swing from his horns when he was a baby.

- When Seokjin had gifted the map, Hoseok had asked why they’re where two dots and not just one. “In case you get separated” the older sorcerer had said, a faint flush on his cheeks as he let Jungkook manhandle him into position on the couch perfect for snuggling. Sending smoke-filled bubbles to smart Jungkook’s nose when he keeps touching his thighs and rolling his eyes at his nephew’s endless touchy feely-ness. But even Hoseok can see the way that Seokjin relaxes with both of them around. Their presence a welcome reprieve from-

- “Yoongi- would you mind not breathing your lizard breath all over your sons?” Seokjin says haughty. Yoongi raises his massive head from where the coffee table should be (moved to make room for yoongi in his dragon form). blinking at Seokjin before his tongue darts out to lick at Hoseok’s hands- ignoring the older sorcerer.

- Hoseok can feel his happiness rippling out from his father at having his hatchlings back in his nest. He flicks his tongue out to hit Seokjin’s palm too and the elder recoils with a disgusted noise that makes Hoseok and Jungkook laugh.

- As if on queue, a book on the shelf falls, interrupting the moment.

- Every head flicks in the direction of the movement, the flecks of dust in the room pause, hanging in its shafts of light. the air too still to be from anything other than Seokjin’s magic or Jungkook’s- it doesn’t discriminate. After another moment. Hoseok gets up and puts the book back. the spine feels warm to the touch and for a moment- Hoseok holds onto it- savoring the warmth before he puts the book back on the shelf.

- There have been more moments like that than they’re all willing to admit, and despite their conversations- no one wants to admit what it is. The things that move on their own or flowers that Seokjin’s watched be plucked and fall to the ground in neat concentric circles. He’d gone out into the garden and found a whole pile of blooms- piles around a suspiciously shaped lump. It’s always the multi colored ones. Those moments are as startling as they are special.

- Everytime you wake Seokjin scolds you for it.

- “You realize the more you try to act outside of the dream world the more likely it is that you won’t be able to return back to your body?” Seokjin had snapped. Tae a happy puddle in his arms. You’re tearing into the food on the table while Tae just nibbles. He’s never hungry in the mornings really. Hadn’t been even when he’d been awake.

- Yoongi wonders if it has anything to do with the little field trips your soul takes outside of your body. The breaks you take from dreaming when you travel as a ghost in their world. Moving books and picking flowers and the countless other little moments.

- “It’s not like I’m trying to control it Seokjin, it just kind of happens. when I watch you guys- when I feel closer to you- it's easier” you definitely do not mention you’re only ever knocked out of your body after you’ve had a nightmare, but Taehyung knows. He looks up at your words, an egg yolk sliding out of his spoon and onto his plate bursting golden.

- Taehyung meets your eyes and you shake your head imperceptibly, and he keeps eating, declining to offer up the information that would surely make Seokjin and Yoongi more concerned. But the clock is ticking- and they only have 18 hours with you this year. No one wants to waste it arguing even if it does scare Yoongi.

- Every time when you wake and it takes a little longer for you to stir, Taehyung always awake and upright before you. Yoongi stroking your back in small circles- calling your name as you furrow your eyebrows and blink awake. kissing your face a few dozen times before you’re truly back. It only took 3 kisses the first year- and now it takes at least 8. Yoongi’s the kind of dragon that keeps track of that sort of thing.

- Later in their own private time together- Tae asks Seokjin with a pout “Why can’t I come out of the dream world to see you guys like she can Jinnie?” Seokjin washes his back in the bath, his hand warm and soapy. Jin exults in washing his love with long strokes, a little scratchy just the way that Tae likes it. just gentle enough to make his love squirm and make the water slosh against the sides of the silver tub. “It's not a thing you should want Tae, none of us know the long-term effects.”

- “But still,” Taehyung’s eyes are like warm honey over peaches, “it would be nice to see you more often.” Seokjin hums a gorgeous sound and Tae relaxes further into his lover's hold. Seokjin’s hands thumbing along his sternum counting his ribs and indulging in the touch. Tae shivers, shifting uneasily in the water, neediness sinking into his core like hot fire. Seokjin’s hand slips below the water and the layer of bubbles.

- “there are any number of reasons why the magic doesn’t want to work on her. It’s been a while and she’s probably just getting used to it, I probably just have to tweak the spell a little bit for y/n” Taehyung sighs, Seokjin’s mouth swallowing a bitten-off moan, kissing down his lovers throat and forsaking his mouth. Tae’s hips rock up, knocking the warm water out of the tub and onto the slate floor with a slosh that neither of them pay much mind to. “I’m not sure I want to hear another name from your lips when you’ve got your hands on me.”

- Seokjin smirks against Tae’s neck, the movement of his hand keeping up its pace under the water. His actions and his sly smirk betraying his words “Why wouldn’t I? We’re having a conversation, aren’t we? Or is something distracting you my love? Would you rather have me chanting your name?” like an incantation- if love were a spell then tae and jin would have the strongest.

- It is nice to see your family even for a few seconds on the occasion that you leave your body. It makes you feel like you’re helping, even just a little bit to watch over them. You try to disrupt something just to let them know you’re there. The first few years- the only thing you can manage is blowing out candles. but it gets easier to move books or make pages flip over as time goes on. and you get to ruffle their hair or pet over it as they sleep Where you stand and watch. Making sure their dreams don’t turn into nightmares.

- You wish you could say the same for your own dreams, but those are far more difficult to control.

- Often Yoongi will look at whatever just moved, and speak into the open air, through the glass barrier of the dream you can barely hear him. But he’ll go to the couch and sit, hold out his hand palm up on the cushion and you’ll touch it. Knowing by the way he shivers- that he can just barely feel the shape of a hand touching his. Yoongi has always had a thing for hand holding. And it’s worth it- just from the way he smiles.

- But too Yoongi it just feels like you’re already a ghost. It just makes him yearn for a time when it wasn’t like this. How will it feel? When he’s been without you longer than he was ever with you? If they don’t find a cure for mortality soon- then he’ll find out. His boys too.

- It feels like he can almost taste you on the air when you come and visit them in-between your naps (its easier for Yoongi to say they’re just that- just really long naps- even if it makes him feel childish, the weight of ‘eternal sleep’ is just too heavy on his mind some days).

- For that reason, he favors his dragon from more than his human one these days. it’s not like he can see you at all in either, but he can tell when you’re there and almost smell you when he’s in dragon form. And that feels more real than curling up around your coffin upstairs (or when he starts to worry that you actually are dead- that you won’t be able to come back).

- It’s been a long time since they started searching but it barely feels like a second to them. Like hardly any time has passed at all. Such is the way of immortals- years pass like months, and days like hours. It’s been years since Hoseok and Jungkook truly stopped aging. They’re both frozen somewhere in their twenties, their hair keeps growing, but their faces never change, their bodies don’t change either accept to get stronger or weaker with the care they show them.

- Jungkook doesn’t like to think about his age when he can help it. He still feels like a little kid whenever Yoongi and Seokjin look at him, sharing a special secret adult look that he’s not sure he’ll ever be capable of giving. He’s very content to stay the baby of their little family.

- But being the baby also means that Jungkook gets treated like a child too.

- “We’ve been over this, it's too dangerous boys,” Yoongi says it like it will make his heart break to see them in danger. If Yoongi knew they’d been shot at- even by one arrow- he’d fly over to the human cities and start leveling them one by one.

- “Not anymore, we’re not kids dad” Hoseok looks fluffed up, his curly hair and wild, so long it almost brushes his shoulders like Jungkook’s. (More than once Seokjin has snipped his fingers threateningly at it, “you both look wilder than the wind I swear, one night I’m going to take a pair of scissors to you whether you like it or not.”)

- That is just another thing that makes Hoseok ache all through his chest, and he’s never been able to put a finger on why it makes him uncomfortable. The thought of needing to have short hair for whatever reason. The same feeling lights up in his chest when Jungkook continues- “ right! we’re not boys- we’re men!” Jungkook’s swinging feet under his chair beg to differ.

- Yoongi sucks on his lower lip, hands tightening over the back of Jin’s chair. They talked about this possibility while the boys were gone, after the last time when they had a similar argument. In the years since your departure, Jin’s taken on something of a parental role with the boys- and it’s nice to have a second set of ears again. Even if it would make both Yoongi and Jin shriek indignantly to be compared to anything like what you and yoongi had. “They’re not children anymore Yoongi, you’re going to have to start letting them take their own risks sooner rather than later”

- “But I already did,” I already let them not be here he wants to say. Every single parental instinct of his telling him to keep his hatchlings close. But it’s better than it was before; now he rarely feels the urge to fly on after them and drag them back by the scruff of their necks. Sometimes when he’s out flying he pretends he’s doing just that.

- Seokjin taps his fingers against the table, sparks dancing between his fingertips. “As much as your parental concern is sweet, you have to admit- nothing can hurt Jungkook or me in any meaningful way.” Seokjin is being as soft as he can be. “You know this, and it's not like Hoseok is unformidable either.”

- Hobi gives Jungkook a toothy grin at that. Seokjin lets Yoongi stew with it for a moment. And the feeling in Hoseok’s chest dissipates. Strange. Though he’s glad to have it gone. Though he knows it will probably have him up later, turning in bed while Jungkook sleeps beside him in the little mock nests they’ve made together since they were kids. Sure that something must be wrong with him- something other than the feeling poisoning the happiness in his chest.

- “If you don’t let them go they might choose to go all on their own. Would you rather find out after? Or before?” Hoseok and Jungkook barely manage to keep a straight face. Their father will put two and two together if they even so much as grin. Yoongi’s pout as he looks down at the table and weighs the options is cute. Under the table, Hoseok’s leg jumps with nervous energy.

- You certainly think letting them go is a better option- standing in the corner of the room, not that any of your family can see you when you’re like this. A specter and a ghost and just as lonely. How your hand itches to reach out and smooth out that pout on Yoongi’s face. But you can’t, not in this form. Upstairs in your glass coffin, your hand twitches. Reaching out to do the touching that your soul wants to do.

- Yoongi can’t argue with logic like that even if he wants to. Honesty and freedom are better than a protective cage and lies by omission on both sides- no matter how loving the cage is.

- “You can go-“ he starts, interrupted by Hoseok and Jungkook’s excited whoops, Jungkook tossing his chopsticks into the hair where they hover and spin like pinwheels, before he jumps to Hoseok’s side, grinning at him while Hoseok pumps a fist in the air. The fire in the hearth flares higher from Hoseok happiness Sending sparks onto the floor. “yahhhhhh you’re going to burn the meat, and this carpet is 500 years old!” Seokjin fans it with his hand as if to knock the sparks off of the carpet and back onto the slate.

- They pull themselves over to Yoongi’s side and drag him into a tight hug, Jungkook pressing his forehead against Yoongi’s cheek in thanks. Yoongi goes stiff at first and then melts as they squeeze him tight. Hoseok hooking his chin over Yoongi’s narrow shoulder. Pulling away only to immediately begin to lay out plans of where they want to go first. Jungkook jumps up to go get that map, already dreaming Cities and wizarding guilds that they only know from the maps and Seokjin’s stories.

- Not that they haven’t been to half of them already- but going there with Yoongi’s blessing is much more exciting than sneaking around behind their backs. There were a few places that they were too worried to brave alone and without backup should something bad happen. But Now they can ask questions and learn where more books might be hidden, what cities to avoid and the secrets Seokjin might know of each.

- “Maybe a little bit of a change of scenery will do you good” Seokjin comments, a small smile tugging at his lips at the boy's excitement. Hoseok almost asks if he wants to come too- just to get out for a little bit. But the moment passes when jungkook unfurls the map in front of the hearth. Seokjin never leaves Tae’s side unless he has to. “I’ll teach you some cloaking spells and the like to hide Hobi’s horns.” His hands hover on Yoongi’s shoulders, reassuring him that he’s made the right choice.

- Weeks later, on the other side of the mountains Hoseok and Jungkook cling to a rooftop again pressing their bodies close to the slate roofs. A few new books in their bag and a group of angry soldiers shouting at them from below the parapet, enchanted arrows seeking them out until Jungkook cuts them off with a wave of his hand, learning to do it first off rather than wait until they are shot at.

- “Was this what we bargained for Hobi?” Jungkook asks with a grin as he looks over at his soul bonded partner. Hobi answers his grin with one of his own. “Maybe more- but I think we’ll raise hell either way.” Jungkook laughs, “imagine dad’s face when we tell him about this.”

- There isn’t a place they’d both rather be.

- Hoseok and Jungkook don’t like to fly at night when they can avoid it. but they need to when they’re closer to the border- where traveling bands of warriors might have sneaked around the battlelines and sunk into dragon territory. It’s safer to sink into the humans lands under the cover of night and fly up ahead. They’ve flown too close to traveling bands of warriors during the day before and though their arrows had fallen short it was still frightening to fly over a hilltop and be suddenly shot at.

- After accumulating a fresh thrush of books in a rather small library from the southern human lands- They’ll head to the coast for a day or two and stay at Jimin’s and Namjoon’s seaside cottage castle crossing over the mountains just north of the battlefield. It would be shorter to just fly straight home. But they have a few more books than usual this time. And the sea air and updrafts will make the flight north easier on Hoseok.

- Too many times have they overshot their load. only realizing when Hoseok had landed to find his once broken shoulder mottled and strained, unable to fly or even move it in human form for several days after. Staying at Namjoon and Jimin’s cottage always brings back fond memories too, though their favorite fairy and uncle Joonie isn’t there of course still south in the thick of the war.

- They’d run into Jimin a few years back- though they still send regular letters north to stay in contact. Jimin had spotted them in the skies and fluttered in their direction. One minute the only thing they’d been able to see was puffy clouds and the next, Jimin falling out of the sky whooping in joy when they saw them. His wings moving so quickly that they where nearly invisible.

- He’d made camp with them and lingered for as long as he could. It was nice to have someone familiar with them on the road. A face that loves them. And Jimin is perfect at giving them the right amount of affection.

- Since the wars started Jimin has split his time between helping Namjoon at the battlefront and going back and forth to the fairy world in an attempt to negotiate an alliance between them and the dragons. he’s Constantly trying to convince the royal family to come to the dragon’s aid.

- It’s not something jimin likes to consider- but if the humans managed to push through dragon land. They’re no telling how far they’d try to go. and if the dragons side seemed bountiful to human kind- then the fairy world would be something out of heaven.

- But just like the last war the fey are refusing to get involved and Just because they won’t help doesn’t mean Jimin won’t. He’s been Namjoon’s right-hand man in the war, the hidden second general to the dragon army. He’d even convinced a few of his brothers and sisters to join in the battle.

- “How do you actually get to the fairy world? Isn’t it like- on the other side of the ocean? Can you fly that far?” they’re stretched out around a fire, the woods a dark and impenetrable barrier beyond their little hallow of sparks. There isn’t anything that the three of them fear in these woods. though they had heard the single howl of a wolf earlier- lonely and echoic in the tall hills that eventually melt into the eastern mountains.

- Jimin had split his affection equally- running his fingers through Hoseok’s hair and head rested on one thigh and then through Jungkook’s on the other. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other. Even longer since they’ve been small like Jimin misses. It’s hard to reconcile these gangly twenty-somethings with the tiny dragon and human he used to baby.

- Jimin doesn't like to think of the children now, the ones at the capitol without families (orphaned or displaced by the war) or his own...forgotten hopes. War is not the time to want something so gentle. Not when jimin needs to be strong as much for his mates sake as for the world. Jimin needs to forget his own hopes now more than ever. Even if seeing Jungkook and Hoseok reminds him so much of those times when he’d felt like a parent- as close as he and namjoon had ever gotten to having kids of their own.

- Maybe as close as they ever would get.

- Jungkook and Hobi remember seeing the fey ships at the market. Their hulls like skeletons, made of silver and a strange clear material, not glass- but certainly not any kind of wood. Jimin shakes their head at hoseoks question- the fey world is not on the other side of the ocean. It’s an easy mistake to make. “ I don’t think I could fly there if I wanted to-it's more like stepping through a very cold doorway. You can come there with me one day if you want.”

- “Do you think they’d have anything that-“ “that would turn you immortal?” it goes without saying that Jimin knows why Hoseok asks. Sucks on their lower lip as their eyes turned shadowed with your ghost. God- Hoseok shivers, he hates thinking that you’re dead, hates when everyone acts like you are.

- “Probably not, fey have good memories and there isn’t much of a reason to write things down, but it’s still a beautiful city- makes home look like ruins,” Jimin says the words like he wishes he hadn’t already. Because all of them know how likely it is one day- that the dragon city might one day fall to ruins.

- There is more than one live ghost- that threatens to haunt them.

- Jungkook can’t help but remember that day as they get close to where they’d run into Jimin the first time. It’s been a long day of flying, and they crossed over the majority of the mountains in one good push. As the sun dips close to the horizon coloring the world in orange and gold, Hoseok and Jungkook spot a glittering speckle among the forested hills of the Southern part of dragon territory. A small waterfall that runs clear and strong.

- He leans over, gripping the band around hoseok’s waist with one hand and pointing in it’s direction with the other until he gets Hoseok’s attention and he spots it too, listing to the side and settling into a slow dive. Jungkook hooks his feet into the squishy side of Hoseok’s ribs to make sure he won’t fall off. His thighs protesting from the strain of gripping Hoseok’s back for many hours.

- He remembers when they’d been younger- Hoseok nearly flipping when they’d first flown together. Jungkook eager but still nervous on his back, hugging Hoseok’s neck so so tight. Jungkook remembers when his neck got thicker- and suddenly he couldn’t link his hands around it- how he’d clinged with every other muscle in his body- only airborne for a few minutes until they both plumited towards the ground in a way that made Jungkook’s stomach lurch. Tossed onto the soft grass in a flurry of feathers and dandelions puffing.

- They’d both tumbled, Hoseok shifting mid-roll spitting grass and dandelion fluff. “Stop putting your feet there! I’m ticklish!!” he’d laughed. That was a far cry from how he felt now, Hoseok was used enough to it that it didn’t bother him. Jungkook an extension of himself on his back, tucking close when they flew fast and leaning to help Hoseok make those tight turns easier.

- They’re not far enough away from the battlefront that they can entirely let down their guard. But they’re both tired enough to make the risk unavoidable. They’re Only a spare 50 miles away is where the fighting’s thickest. It’s probably okay, There probably isn’t any danger here. Maybe they shouldn’t light a fire- just in case.

- As Hoseok touches down into the pebbled bank of the waterfall his claws sink into the sand with his and Jungkook’s combined weight, buffering the trees with flaps of his wings. Keeping them tucked in tight so that they don’t hit any stray branches. Jungkook slides off his back- hitting the ground with a lurch, almost falling in his tiredness. Jungkook has always had that floppy puppy way about him when he gets sleepy- every bit of his body a little more limp and sweet than usual (if that’s even possible).

- The water runs clear and cold as Jungkook stoops to fill up their canteens, unlatching their packs from Hoseok’s back with a push of magic. The roaring from the falls nearly blocks out the sounds of Hoseok’s bones shifting. His hair windswept, fangs clicking against the ones on his lower mouth- what he needs to say doesn’t necessitate a full shift. “I’m going to circle overhead and find us a place to make camp okay?”

- It’s too dangerous to camp so close to a water source. They can hardly hear each other over shout over the thunder of the falls- let alone any intruders that might try and sneak upon them in the night. Jungkook makes a small noise in agreement, the hours of flying in silence lingering.

- Hoseok can tell his soul bonded partner is only a few minutes away from needing to sleep- probably even forgetting to eat, which is pretty typical as far as traveling goes. Jungkook will push himself to the brink before he drops, and it’s Hoseok’s job to make sure that doesn’t happen. He’d never say anything to Jungkook but it’s a little scary to see the magic sustain him even farther than Hoseok’s own stamina will take him.The magic will suppress his need to sleep and eat the more he uses his magic.

- When Jungkook stretches in the morning, arms above his head pulling his shirt up to show a few inches of skin, Hoseok takes each and every rib that shows as a reminder. As Hoseok circles overhead, he reminds himself that he has to make Jungkook eat something before he falls asleep.

- Hoseok usually does a good job of keeping Jungkook well taken care of and Jungkook takes care of him in turn. Many a night have they curled up together; Hobi in his feathers and Jungkook rubbing soft soothing motions over the sensitive’s scales of his face, they’re never more than a few feet apart these days.

- They go hours without talking during the day, but the silence never bothers either of them. Who else can you truly be silent with if not your soulmate? Sometimes- Jungkook looks at Hoseok and wonders ‘are you thinking what I’m thinking? Or are your thoughts and feelings just as much a mystery as my own are to me?’

- Is it a soulmate bond? Or just a soul bond? Sometimes, Jungkook isn’t sure- and finds himself questioning that which never should be questioned. he’d never asked Jin if his and Namjoon’s bond had drifted into more romantic territory- sensing there was a story there somehow that maybe the younger one shouldn’t pry into.

- Hoseok takes off, the wind from his wings buffering his clothes; the flowers that grow near the waterfall- red and bright, sway under the weight of their heavy nectar.

- Jungkook breathes in then out, settling himself into wait. It’s easier for Hobi to search while he’s not on his back; it’s a little harder for him to make his tight turns with all of that weight altering his center of gravity. No matter how hard he tries Jungkook doesn’t have the same sense of balance that Hoseok has. He’s been unseated by Hoseok landing in trees more than once.

- When Jungkook remembers enough to check back in with Seokjin, the elder is still very intent on teaching him how to alter that. Jungkook may have mastered a hundred or so spells, but he still doesn’t wield magic in the same easy way that Seokjin does. He hears his uncle’s voice now; ‘Breathe in Jungkook, feel the energy around you, the pulse of that which gives things their life- and you- your powers.’

- And ‘don’t get frustrated- you’ve got all the time in the world to learn magic. You can’t expect to be as good as me with only a few years under your belt... especially given the circumstances.’

- It's hard to find time to practice on the road, So Jungkook takes a second for this, closes his eyes, and reaches out, his mind like a bubble, the edges of it swirling and turning multicolored. He feels the offal energy in those red flowers. Poisonous his magic tells him, stay away- sweet but don’t eat. The water turns and curls and he feels the life of the little fish below in the deepest parts, the way the air moves as it falls with the water, and endless hello between the two.

- He’s so calm, so intent on being peaceful (breathing with the slowly moving things that are immortal like him) that he doesn’t hear the rustle of movement behind him. The sharp eyes that have caught his human scent and found it unwelcome here. The dragon in the woods. They eye the thin sword on the ground, the only one Jungkook still keeps for those just in case moments of misfortune.

- Jungkook hasn’t been a sorcerer long enough to smell like the magic, and this far into dragon territory; it’s no wonder why they consider him a threat. Though most dragons know there is another sorcerer alive by now or have heard of him. Yoongi is a historical figure after all, and their family does have proximity to Namjoon and the dragon council.

- Before they exhausted the dragon realms libraries they’d used that to their advantage often. There are many older dragons that own those old castles, charmed by his and Hoseok’s mere mention of the council. Many had asked how their father was doing.

- Hoseok was usually the one who talked with them and heard their grievances; (too many taxes, too few social programs- the usual), while Jungkook raids their libraries and fills out his little booklet so that he knows which books come from where. He and Hoseok aren’t intending to be thieves so hopefully they’ll be able to return them (Most of those books now sit in a pile in Seokjin’s library, pages unturned for years with no drive to give them back- but it’s the thought that counts right?)

- The dragons that hoard books are the worst ones to deal with- always-eyeing Hoseok like he’s here to steal their trove of musty moldy tombs. As if the golden bands that line his fingers and dot his ears now aren’t enough of an indication of where Hoseok’s proclivities lie.

- Hoseok’s hoarded object will be gold, not unlike his father. Though you’d once called Yoongi a crow- only interested in that which was pretty and shiny. Many a time when they were children, Hoseok had watched their father growl at you playfully and snag you close by your waist, snapping his teeth close to your neck and nuzzling there, “maybe that’s why I’ve kept you.”

- Most dragon folks are much more interested in Hoseok than they are in Jungkook. But the gossip mills and rumors haven’t touched the people here this far out into the countryside. No one knows who- or more importantly what Jungkook is.

- Least of all the dragon in the woods.

- The growl ripples and Jungkook straightens, searching in the cover of trees. The hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He instantly goes on the offensive, the waterfall behind him goes still in the magic as does the softly falling leaves, hovering in the air like baubles- like time has stopped.

- The magic reaches out at the threat with greedy hands, and the shadows part around it, letting in the hazy afternoon goldenness that glints off of sharp claws and even sharper teeth.

- Jungkook is used to dragons more so than he is to humans, but the sight of an aggressive one is still enough to have him nervous. He holds his hand out, showing that he’s unarmed. He sets a foot back- boot sloshing in the water, sending one of their packs tumbling in surprise. “I’m not- I’m not a threat- calm down- I’m no soldier.” his voice shakes.

- He’s never been one to attack first when it comes to dragons But this one stalks forward with Jungkook as it’s prey. Tail raised like its ready to attack. They’re about as old and as large as Hoseok if not a little larger and meatier. Their mouth sparking with bright yellow fire. Eyes angry and unchecked by restraint.

- And still- Jungkook isn’t afraid, and it takes him a moment to realize why, even when he sees the dragon preparing to spit jet of fire in his direction. It’s not that the magic has made him reckless; Jungkook just knows in his heart that nothing can hurt him.

- But if it tries- then the magic might act without Jungkook knowing. The magic will always protect its host and there’s no telling what damage it might do to his opponent. “Please- please don’t do that” why does is own voice sound tired to his ears? “I can’t be held responsible for what happens if you do.” If Jungkook weren’t scared for the dragon’s safety he’d release a tired sigh.

- Nothing is interesting anymore when nothing can hurt you.

- The dragon growls before spitting it’s fire- and Jungkook is just about to hold up his hands to throw the protective bubble around him when Hoseok falls out of the sky. Crashing down in front of him. Wings flaring to stop the fire from crashing into Jungkook. Dealing out a savage kick that sends the other dragon out of the shadows and into the light.

- Jungkook’s breath hitches.

- They’re the same species- or if not the same then similar. Their feathers mix in the fight- Ruddy red yanked out by Hoseok’s claws falling to the ground with Hoseok’s bright crimson coral. Rather spill feathers than spill blood.

- Hoseok doesn’t notice much about the other dragon beyond a particularly strong scent in his nose. When he spotted them overhead he acted without another thought. Air going out from under his wings and fiery anger filling his heart when he saw them. No one flashes their fire at Jungkook without him retaliating.

- He manages to pin the dragon for a moment before they turn, swiping out with their wing. Sending small stones scattering in Jungkook’s direction, One nearly hits his face before the magic hurls it in a different direction. Jungkook flinches regardless.

- For the first time- Jungkook can see the differences between Hoseok and his species. Where Hoseok has dark red feathers on his underbelly they have white golden ones, their secondary feathers are different too- striped with a slightly darker red like blue jays would be striped blue-black. Comparatively- Hoseok is more colorful but less ornate.

- Where Hoseok’s horns go in theirs point out, the other dragon tries to bash their head into Hoseok’s sideways. Hoseok flips them over with a push of his tail. Their wings tangle, flap against the ground in a thwack that leaves the poison flowers crumpled, but then Hoseok get his jaws around the other dragon's neck and the fight is as good as over.

- His growl ripples out along the forest floor making the leaves shake. He doesn’t mean to really hurt them but as the other dragon moves against his jaw and a little bit of blood splatters. A shallow cut on their neck. The dragon continuing to thrash even with Hoseok’s jaws around their throat until they yield. It's obvious that Hoseok is the only one out of the two of them that’s been trained to fight, those sparring sessions with their father and his schooling at the academy paying off.

- The dragon shifts below Hoseok. Red feathers melt away into red-brown hair. the girl that shifts below Hoseok is so much smaller and vulnerable compared to her dragon form. “You’re one of us! Sorry- just got startled by the human!” she’s not scared of having Hoseok’s teeth so close to her, still bent over her with his mouth parted, nearly as wide as she is tall. She pushes his snout away with one hand and Hoseok- blinking perplexed- lets her. She looks like the kind of woman that isn’t easily scared of anything.

- Her clothes are grubby and worn from weeks on the road, her skirt thick and woolen pulled over her legs. She’s doing a good job of concealing how scared she is but Jungkook sees her fear in the slight tremble of her shoulders as Hoseok stays shifted between her and Jungkook as if he doesn’t believe that she won't be a threat anymore. Hoseok’s tail flicks agitated, splashing into the water.

- Jungkook sees another flash of movement at the edge of his vision, brings up his hand in defense as he turns. But the smaller heads in the woods just look curious and frightened. Two other small dragons, a small one sandy with fluffy feathers, a hatchling whereas the other is shifted. Her horns are a deep bronze. They nearly get caught in the underbrush as she cocks her head like a bird.

- “He’s a city thing.” she comments at the smaller dragon, which sniffles and snorts around her waist. He curls around the shifted one with his head hidden behind their back. Shy- Just like Hobi was when he was younger.

- They’re others of his kind, the same species. Jungkook knew they had to exist but he doesn’t know why he’s so shocked.

- Hoseok finally shifts, obviously furious, a head taller than the woman and instantly combative. Her blood a harsh brand at his mouth, red and dripping around his chin. “Don’t you have a little more sense to wait and see if he was doing anything harmful? God-” freaking savages Hoseok curses internally- but then immediately berates himself for that choice of language.

- That kind of rhetoric was the words that dragons from the capital often used to refer to the dragons that wanted to exist out here where they were naturally more comfortable. Unburdened by the comforts and expectations of polite society. The girl tosses her long dark hair, matching his energy with her hands on her hips, “well he should know better than to come into dragon land unaccompanied-“

- “He wasn’t unaccompanied- he has me, I scent marked him this morning, and if you stopped to use your senses instead of just going fire first and thought second- You’d have realized he’s spoken for.” Jungkook remembers the scenting and barely suppresses a flush.

- Hoseok had extensively rubbed his chin all over Jungkook’s chest this morning. They’d been curled up in the dewdrops, staying cozy until the absolute last moment they had to leave the small clearing where they’d made camp, a hanging valley in the mountains. Secluded, safe, and quiet.

- It makes Jungkook shy to think everyone can smell that on him- that they’d been so close. and in the next second he’s questioning his own shyness- what was there to be shy about? Hoseok is his soul-bonded partner so it’s only natural…right?

- The girl sniffs the air, crossing her arms. The shallow gash under her jaw is already healing. Really- it wasn’t more than a scratch, and Hoseok won't feel guilty for that- not when it was her who tried to move when she obviously should have yielded the fight to him. “You’re right- he does smell like you” the way she says this- like she thinks it’s a bad thing but that’s rich when she stinks like something heavy and heady. A sweet scent that’s so strong it hurts Hoseok’s nose. No one else has ever smelled this way to him before.

- Another older dragon dashes through the forest, accompanied by a third- both of them are male and at least as old as Jungkook and Hobi. Hoseok steps a little more firmly in front of Jungkook. Hiding him from view.

- “What’s going on? We heard a roar?” the smaller one asks, though the larger of the two turns to the female dragon his eyes only for her. His thumb running against her blood-soaked throat, checking to make sure she’s not hurt. The second he verifies she’s not hurt he turns his attention to Hoseok, putting himself in front of her the same way Hobi had stepped in front of Jungkook. He even steps up- about to shove Hoseok but she catches him around the waist. Stopping him from hurting Hoseok.

- Jungkook takes a second to size the three of them up- he and hoseok could definitely take them in a fight, he shakes off his trepidation and steps up too- holding the glare of the smaller of the two men.

- More of that smell fills Hoseok’s nose and he wants to choke on it, or gag. Hoseok scoffs, arms rippling in his shirt. (Jungkook’s brain sure chooses the weirdest things to fixate on, but when did Hoseok gain so much muscle?) Jungkook reaches out to tug on Hoseok’s sleeve, “Hobi- it’s okay, let's just go,” Hoseok’s eyes lose their anger the second he looks back at Jungkook, hot fire melting to burning coals.

- Jungkook doesn’t like to be hated by dragons, even if he’s used to it by now and grew up with it. Hoseok’s priorities shift in a second; to getting Jungkook away and where they can be alone and safe unthreatened in their little bubble. He’d rather make sure Jungkook was safe and comfortable than devote any more energy to these people. “It doesn’t matter Hobi.”

- The woman that Hoseok’s fought goes white as a sheet, her knees going weak in a second. “What did you just say?” the beefier male dragon steps forward and Hoseok barely manages the impulse to cover his nose. The other one sends a nervous glance at the two of them, then back at the kids.

- A knowing look shared between all of them, and Jungkook is hit with the realization that something is about to change. And in the same second, it happens before Jungkook can tell what it is and protect Hoseok from it. The woman pushes the beefy man to the side, stepping up to Hoseok.

- “Did you just say Hobi? What’s your name?” the woman is still staring at Hoseok open-mouthed, and all at once- Jungkook sees it. The same way their hair falls, their face shape, their similar small noses, and their eyes. The kind of familiarity that only genetics can cause.

- “My name is Hoseok,” Hobi says, and she rushes forward, tears spilling over her cheeks, Hoseok flinches back from her hands, “I thought you were dead- I thought you were gone- Hoba- I’m so sorry- I-”

- Now it's Jungkook’s turn to put himself in-between her and Hobi. Catching her wrists in both of his. though the larger dragon’s nostrils flare at her being touched- he’s gentle when he takes her form Jungkook’s hold a second before her legs give out and she devolves into sobs. Holding her protectively against his chest as she cries, staring at Hoseok like she’s seeing a ghost.

- Hoseok looks stricken for a moment before it hits him “Dawon- my sister's name was Dawon. Is that you?” she nods, eyes still shining as she drinks in Hoseok, wiping the tears away so she can see him more. The other smaller male dragon grimaces- looking about as uncomfortable as jungkook feels.

- “You have a sister” Jungkook breathes, a weird feeling of betrayal welling up in him. “You didn’t tell me.” Hoseok is scared- that’s the only emotion Jungkook can pin down when he turns, his hand closing around Jungkook’s shoulder, “I didn’t know- I always assumed she’d died. And I haven’t-“

- Jungkook sees something settle between Hoseok’s shoulders, the tension dissipating “I barely remember you. I’m sorry.” And he really is, her sadness doesn't well in him a protective urge- he feels nothing at all but discomfort as he watches a stranger cry over him. He wishes he remembered her like she remembers him.

- “If it helps,” the dragon holding dawon says, “she thought you were dead too” he holds out his hand, “I’m Jinseok and this is my brother Felix, what’s your name human?”

- The little ones seem to be the perfect distraction- the midsized one shifting- while the hatchling bounds forward in their direction. Felix is finally knocked out of his reverie to try and snag them by their feathers but missing at the last moment. They flutter around Jungkook’s and Hoseok’s feet- curious at the newcomers. It gives dawon the opportunity to wipe her eyes.

- The larger one of them barely braves enough to sniff at Jungkook's hand, recoiling when he smells the magic sparking at his nose. Shifting with a pop. Her hair is red-tipped like Dawon’s, but black at the roots. “You smell funny,” she says before she pops back into her dragon form The smaller hatchling brushes up against Hoseok’s legs as a cat would weaving between his ankles.

- Though he doesn’t say it aggressively, Jungkook still feels his annoyance prick at this and at the whole meeting. “i’m Not human- but my name’s Jungkook, I’m Hoseok’s brother,” the small one shifts back and forth with a crack, “how can you be his brother if you’re not a dragon?”

- “Areum!” Felix scolds. trying to grab at her again as she shifts and darts away. “It’s okay- we- we can talk about it,” Hoseok says, Hand smoothing over the head of the smaller one, the hatchling presses up into Hoseok’s hand.

- As Dawon gets her feet underneath her the other dragon- Jinseok- who hoseok gathers is her mate judging from the way he’s been trying to comfort her steadies her with a hand on her elbow. He’s significantly meatier than felix- who like Hoseok is lithe and delicate by comparison.

- And Jungkook knows without being able to smell him that maybe- this means he’s an alpha. Not all dragons split themselves up into designations of alpha, beta, and omega. When they were younger Jungkook pored over every book they could come by about dragons to learn about Hoseok’s type.

- “Why are you even reading about me- you know you can just ask Namjoon right?” Hoseok had teased in the old library of their manor house, a book from jimin’s library on the study table. “Cuz I wanna know everything about you- don’t you want to know too? Which one you are?”

- “Not really- it doesn’t matter to me” and maybe back then it didn’t. Neither Namjoon or Yoongi were the kind of dragon that split into designations and neither could tell. Jungkook wonders if that’s still true. If Hoseok still doesn’t know- it’s been so long and Jungkook’s never asked, he wonders if the others can tell.

- “Come this way- we’ve already set up camp and you both should join us,” the smaller one shifts finally, hair fluffy and red-blond just like their feathers, tugging on Dawon’s skirt. He’s a soft sweet thing, barely more than a toddler. “why is it all like that unnie?” pointing behind Jungkook and Hoseok.

- They all turn, and Jungkook isn’t at all surprised to see the waterfall still frozen in time, no sound of it tumbling, still the same way it was when Dawon first attacked. The other small dragon tries to touch the water's edge and finds it impenetrable. Like it’s glass.

- Jungkook leans down and runs his hand through it letting it ripple slowly- much to the excitement of the youngsters who stand on the surface. Pouncing and trying to break it. Neither of them can break through the surface like Jungkook. “Kookie,” Hoseok asks, “sorry- that’s my fault.” He holds up his hands and with a flash the water unfreezes and resumes its rushing and roaring. The older child falls ankle-deep into the water, squawking and splashing back to the shore- Shaking her feathers out.

- The dragons go white, Felix mutters a low curse. “We’d heard about another sorcerer- but we didn’t think” Jungkook rubs his hands on his thighs, picking up his pack, suddenly shy. Still Hoseok and Dawon stare at each other- this time not trying to get close.

- Jungkook sighs, the heaviness in his chest aching. “You said you had camp set up already?”

- Hours later after the fires been stoked and the foods been made and the sun has set, Jungkook tries not to let the food in his mouth taste like ash. Rolling it against his tongue, the meat-rich with spices as he watches Hoseok and Dawon from across the fire. Ignoring the clamor of Felix wrestling the hatchlings into a makeshift nest.

- at one point tonight Hoseok had mistakenly referred to the two hatchlings as his sister’s children and she’d laughed, her mate blushing and melting underneath her playful look. They’re not her kids, but that they’re all orphans from one of the last attacks at the border before the war began. In much the same boat as Dawon was when their nest was destroyed. The group of three are on their way north to drop the youngsters off in the capital before they head back to the battlefront.

- the two children seem terribly attached to the group of three- Hoseok comments on this. Felix looks down at the small one- the little boy curled up in his lap, cheek pillowed against Felix’s thigh. His voice hushed and pained “We want to fight. Even if it means we have to leave them, we can’t take care of them like they need to be taken care of.”

- Jungkook doesn’t say that you were younger than he was when you first started taking care of him and Hobi. But things are significantly faster passed for humans. And maybe parenthood has more to do with personality and attitude than age. If Jungkook had to judge it- he’d say that out of this group- Felix seems the fondest of the hatchlings.

- Jungkook doesn’t intrude much onto their conversation. For the most part he just sits across the fire with his empty bowl and listens. Nursing his skein of wine that they’ve so graciously gifted him and Hoseok. Marveling at the refilling spell that jungkook shows them half way through the night when it begins to run dry.

They don’t notice the difference- but to Jungkook the wine tastes flat and bitter the magic stealing away the joy of its taste. There are some things that the magic just can't recreate and maybe jungkook’s just sensitive to that.

- But it does enough to liberate his anxiety regardless; Jungkook’s head is spinning as he watches the dragons, feeling apart from them on the other side of the fire. The two youngsters sleep on soft packs a little bit away, packs piled up to keep the light of the fire out of their eyes.

- “How did you- how did you survive? Did you run away?” (The memories that Jungkook’s seen flicker back across his eyes, a tiny Hoseok sitting in a treehouse nest, hiding until his mother came. “Stay here- your sister will be back in a moment” and then Hoseok leaving, heading out into the fray of the battle. So small and so so brave.)

- Jungkook tightens his lips. Hoseok knows what he saw that day when he became a sorcerer and they don’t have many secrets between the two of them. But this feels too private for Jungkook to pipe up. The fact that he might be the only one of the three of them that has a clear picture of what happened that day lingers on his mind.

- Jungkook wonders, and has asked Seokjin about how, and why- the magic showed him what it did. ‘I think it probably wanted you to understand, wanted you to know what had happened and how it did. Every sorcerer has a different specialty, maybe yours is time.’

- “I almost didn’t, I went out to fight but our parents were already-“ Hoseok cuts himself off. Everyone knows what happened and he doesn’t need to say it in any detail. “I went back for you- but you weren’t there- and the others were leaving.“ she doesn’t need to say anymore. Takes a swig of her wineskin too, the words rolling off her tongue better with the alcohol lubricating them. “Two other hatchlings got killed because I went back to look for you.”

- Hoseok doesn’t have anything to say about that. He’d been as good as dead, and she must have been about 11 when the attack happened. Hoseok would tell her that he forgives her but really there’s nothing to forgive. “What have you been doing since then, where did you end up?” Hoseok needs to ask- needs to know. What could have been his life if Yoongi had never found him?

- It says something that this woman in front of him left him for dead, while their father didn’t. Now that her scent buffs over him from the hot wind he thinks he recognizes it. In the first few weeks he’d been with you he remembers missing her scent. Longing to curl up around it and the rest of his nest.

- Hoseok remembers smelling Jungkook His snout pressed to Jungkook’s black curls trying to recreate the same smell. It smells kind of like family- but not really. Jungkook would never smell the same way she did- and that was a good thing. Hoseok subtly leans away so that more of it doesn’t get in his nose. Craving Jungkook’s clean sweet scent across the fire.

- “I ended up getting adopted by their rookery” she gestures to both of the boys Felix leans back on his hand's feet playing with the soil while he gazes at her fondly. Felix is the only one of them who doesn’t have horns, instead- his dragon mark manifests itself in his clawed feet.

- That’s how I would look at her if we’d grown up together Hoseok thinks. It’s clear they’re close though he can already tell her bond with the alpha runs deeper than her bond with him. “Their parents died three years ago in one of the first battles, we were sent north to the city and the academy before we were approved by the council to head south when we found them.”

- “Hoseok studied at the academy too” jungkook supplies quiet, no one but hoseok acknowledges he spoke.

- In their little nest, the two hatchlings breathe on, “we were trying to make it to the battlefront to finally fight but now that we’ve got them- we’re on our way back to the city.” Hoseok sees the way that Jinseok touches her hand, soft and cradling. It’s strange to Hoseok, who doesn’t often pick up on the scents of other dragons that those of his own kind smell so strong.

- Dawon smells sweet and cloying, like a baked cake or like an overly ripe fruit. Nearly spoiled. Whereas Jinseok smells like incense and burning oranges (a smell that Hoseok finds it hard to like to be honest), and Felix smells like the edge of winter and fall, clear air, fresh in a way. Other dragon’s scents have never been so pungent to him- even his own. if they smell so bad he wonders what he must smell like.

- “How did you…” Hoseok’s eyes hover on the tender way they hold each other hand, Jinseok brushes over the scent gland on the inside of Dawson’s wrist something so intimate and gentle. He can see the way she viscerally shivers. “You’re both mated right?” he asks, wants to know, both of them blush but nod eagerly.

- Felix leans back further. “I told them to wait until after the war but-“ he lifts his shoulders, “when you know you know.” Dawon smiles brightly in his direction, knocking her forehead with Jinseok. “You’re not-” Dawon sends a glance in Jungkook’s direction as if shaking her head at the very thought. Jungkook bristles (and so does Hoseok) but as if sensing some sort of possible conflict, Felix pipes up. “It makes sense that you’re not since you're like me, we don’t often mate.”

- Confusion replaces the tension as everyone turns to Felix, Hoseok’s eyebrows furrow. Something’s not lining up “what do you mean?” Jungkook asks. Hoseok is wide-eyed “how am I like you?” Felix- seeming to realize that he’s overstepped or supplied information that he shouldn’t have, has the good sense to look a little bashful. “You didn’t know? You’re a beta-”

- Hoseok and jungkook share a startled glance, hoseok's hands shake a little- he tries to hide it- but Jungkook notices (Jungkook always notices). Hoseok had never thought it mattered- but now it feels like it does. the way that felix says it- like it’s something to be happy about. “You didn’t know? ah- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to”

- “It’s alright it's just-” Hoseok looks down his hands tightening into fists, a small smile pricking at the corner of his mouth. “I’m a beta?” Jungkook can’t help but feel like he’s slipping even further away his breath hitching. Felix relocates to Hoseok’s side, taking his shaking hand in one of his “yes, you’re a beta- like me. there aren’t many of us left- even fewer now, but you’re a beta Hoseok.”

- Jungkook can’t stop himself, physically can’t keep himself in his seat at the sight of Hoseok and the other beta sitting so close on the tree stump. The way his sister seems so close on the other side in Jungkook’s spot. Felix touches Hoseok’s neck- the spot where Jungkook knows his scent gland is even if he can’t smell Hoseok the way the dragons do. explaining to hoseok what he smells like- It makes Jungkook’s blood boil with an acrid something that feels like wanting and shame at being so impossibly jealous.

- So he gets up and walks to the edge of the makeshift camp trampling someone’s feathers as he goes. Hoseok starts after him and the alpha makes an unhappy grunt at Hoseok leaving. Almost reaching out.

- Logically Jungkook knows Jinseok is his sister’s mate- so of course, he’d be worried about her younger brother leaving- especially if it hurt the feelings of Dawon. But Jungkook can’t help but hate that they’re already trying to stake a claim over Hoseok. Typical alpha behavior already trying to exert his will over someone he barely knows.

- Jungkook doesn’t know if Hoseok had felt his displeasure down the threads of their bond, but he calls Jungkook’s name again as he stalks into the woods. Jungkook ignores it, stomping carefully through a grove of ankle-high toadstools that glow a faint pink. They’re enough like to see by, and they illuminate the forest in great swathes. A fairy lifts its head from the surface as he jostles one, hissing in Jungkook’s direction as he disturbs their sleep.

- “Kookie slowdown- just STOP” Hoseok has never shouted at Jungkook and sounded like that. Jungkook’s so surprised he stops in his tracks. He steps on a toadstool and it winks out- the rosy glow beneath them diminishing. A flurry of sprites are startled from their hallow by hoseok's shout, the cloud moving sleepily away from the clearing, wings whistling in the quiet. When he turns around, Hoseok’s stricken expression is lit from below, his lower lip glossy from the wine.

- One of the things about their bond is that Hoseok doesn’t have to wonder if Jungkook is upset. He can feel it echoing hot into his own body, jealousy and anger and deep underneath- fear. Fear that Hoseok had found something he’d been looking for that Jungkook couldn’t offer.

- Jungkook can’t get the happy expression out of his head- the way Hoseok had looked when they’d told him. “I’m a beta” the smile like an answer he’d been searching for but hadn’t found. Jungkook couldn’t fit into that system- couldn’t be an alpha or a beta or omega. He could just be Jungkook.

- And For the first time, being only that doesn’t feel like enough for Hoseok. Hoseok had never cared that Jungkook was a dragon or human but now it feels like it matters.

- “Do you- are you going to stay with them Hoseok?” Jungkook’s voice doesn’t sound like his own. Hoseok recoils at the mere suggestion of it like he’s just been slapped “what?! Of course not- we’re going to leave in the morning? And then they’ll head south. Dawon and I have already talked about it while you were getting firewood.” Hoseok reaches out to grab Jungkook’s wrist but Jungkook takes a step back- out of Hoseok's reach.

- “It didn’t look like you had any intention of leaving just then” Hoseok steps forward into Jungkook’s space. Between them, personal space rarely exists, but now, Jungkook feels like he he needs some. Jungkook never thought their bond might hurt- but now he’s worried it is.

- “You don’t need to be scared Kookie,” Hoseok says because he can feel his fear, “I don’t want you to feel scared.” one of the terrible things about their bond is that Hoseok can feel everything every emotion. Good and bad, secret and shared all wound in an anxious ball that only Hoseok can tease through.

- “Maybe it would help- if I knew what you were thinking” because thoughts and feelings aren’t the same things. hoseok knows jungkook is feeling this way- but can’t understand why more than a good guess.

- Jungkook sits on the edge of a stump, a fallen tree, and beside him, Hoseok stoops to sit too. Careful to rearrange their feet so that they don’t hurt any of the toadstools, through the underbrush they glimmer and bloom more brilliant than flowers.

- They remind Jungkook of the flowers that grow in aunty Jimin and uncle Namjoon’s house. Jungkook doesn’t watch them, leaning his head on Hoseok’s shoulder, looking up at him from his perch. After a second, Hoseok pulls him closer, pacifying him with the contact.

- Hoseok starts slow. “You know im different.” it seems silly to say- to voice this when jungkook can feel the otherness in his bones. “that I feel like I’ve always been in-between kind of in the same way that Jimin’s been in-between.” jungkook’s egear nodds encourage Hoseok on to talk more.

- “I’ve never been worried about it because I knew- I know whatever it is- that I feel loved- I know you love me.” Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s going to shake in his chest, lit from below. Hoseok reaches out, touches his cheek in just the right way that Jungkook knows it’s not- not that sort of love. The thing that’s built itself into something formidable in his chest.

- A love that is neither purely platonic nor brotherly or romantic- something different and new and definitely not sexual but still love. Hoseok is apart of Jungkook’s soul in a way that nothing else could be. There is no space left in his heart. Nothing left for anyone else. All of Jungkook belongs to this and their bond.

- Briefly, he wonders if maybe all this confusion is just Jungkook’s magical body getting re-used to the bond. Jis magical body can feel it so much more than his human body ever could.

- “I know” Jungkook feels breathless- but the whole in-between thing, he knew that too. For years Jungkook Has watched Hoseok battle with his hair enough times to know that the frustration was deeper than any superficial change. Jungkook has seen the looks- the longing when he sees something pretty and golden.

- When they were younger, Hoseok jokingly put on one of your corsets, almost too big for him. You’d loved it- thought it was just the cutest thing and hadn’t made him take it off until bedtime. “I promise you don’t want to sleep with it on Hoseok.”

- “This- all of them- Dawon” Hoseok takes Jungkook’s hand- more of a routine then any motion- and unlike before Jungkook lets him. “that just feels like a reason for all of that- that discomfort. If i’m a beta- then it all makes sense you know? but still I-”

- Hoseok steals himself to say the next words sighing them out “-I don’t think I could love anyone the way that mom loves dad you know” Jungkook thinks those words should hurt. But they don’t. He’s been thinking about the pain recently. How their father is their mother’s constant shadow, a ghost that cannot sleep, a love that haunts more than it loves.

- No question. Yoongi would tear apart himself for you if given the chance. But Hoseok- Hoseok doesn’t know if he’s ever felt something like that with such intensity. Sure he’d fight to the death for Jungkook and fight even harder if something was to separate them. But was that foundation built on the same kind of love? Could more love even fit in the space of his heart- with so much Jungkook already filling it up? Could this love change when it has no room to grow?

- It would be easier if they were bloodily related, jungkook realizes- then there would be no question. But the fact of the matter is that any romantic relationships that they might have with other people would feel like too much of a betrayal on both sides.

- Hoseok and Jungkook cannot love each other the way Yoongi loves you. and yet- Jungkook doesn’t want that with anyone else. Can’t even think about loving someone who isn’t Hoseok. Jungkook holds Hoseok’s hand to his face for one moment, then lets it go- lets the idea of this fall away, “I’m sorry for getting angry- let's go back”

- When they go back Hoseok sits next to Jungkook on the log. The others give them both a measured look- like theyre trying to find any remaining discord between their bond, leaning back satisfied when they find none.

- Jungkook doesn't need to know what they talked about while they were gone. Especially when hoseok immediately launches into another conversation with dawon- talking through their childhoods- and the parents that they’d both eventually found. “I think you’d really like my mom, she’s like a healer- a good one too” Hoseok can’t help but boast. “Healed my shoulder after-“ he trails off but tilts to show her how he can roll it.

- Jinseok comes over and inspects Hoseok’s shoulder, tilting it between his big hands and unlike before- it doesn’t make Jungkook jealous, (but that might have something to do with Hoseok’s hand on his thigh). Jinseok’s eyes are appraising when he lets it go “of course you healed! I’ve taken a few tumbles myself over the last few years. Almost thought my tail was gonna fall off that one time.” Felix laughs and Dawon rolls her eyes at it. “Yes we’re all aware of your stupidity that one time when-”

- “You’ll always be my person Kookie- I don’t need anyone else. I don’t want anyone else” Hoseok tells him when they’re pressed close underneath their bed things, set out underneath the stars. They’re both Significantly more full of wine than they’d been before and Hoseok’s words are nearly slurry.

- “I think…I think I might be a little broken.” Hoseok’s says like the words are a secret, eyes fluttering with tiredness. Jungkook presses closer in reply like Jungkook is making up for pieces Hoseok might be missing. He presses his forehead to Hoseok’s. Hoseok smells like home- Hoseok will always be home to Jungkook.

- “If you’re broken, I’m broken too” Jungkook’s words are cushioned against the skin of Hoseok’s shoulder. That night, Hoseok lies on his back and Jungkook slings a leg over his thighs. they revel in the closeness, loving every moment.

- Jungkook is already asleep- but Hoseok speaks anyway. “I don’t need anything else but you Kookie.”

- The next morning the two groups part ways. Dawon hugs Hoseok so tight that Jungkook feels his own spine ache a little. Hoseok must have explained to her last night about their goal of saving you. she seems like she understands why they need to leave. But Even so, she’s a little teary-eyed, reluctant to let him go. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Hoseok nods, his red curls bouncing, not a hit of hesitation.

- Hoseok hands her a little scroll. If they do make it to the Southern front where Namjoon is, the scroll will make sure that she and her flock are well taken care of by their uncles. Hoseok thinks that Jimin and Namjoon would like his older sister. That she’ll fit in well with the army.

- It isn’t until a few days later when they’re staying at uncle Namjoon and Jimin’s house that Jungkook and Hoseok have a chance to talk about any of it again. Jungkook could feel the flickers of uncertainty down their bond, judging that Hoseok needed to parse through his feeling and figure out what he needed to say.

- They only stay for the night, happy to have a familiar bed instead of curling up under the stars before they fly north. The house is empty besides them, though a housekeeper still comes by every day to water Jimin’s plants and make sure too much dust doesn’t settle.

- They ready for a long day of flying in one of the many guest rooms. Jungkook is just leaning down to tie his boots when he catches Hoseok looking at himself in the mirror. Running a brush through his curls. Hoseok thinks back through his memories of this house- and of the fairy and dragon that should be here with them. And particularly- words that Jimin said to Hoseok long ago when he’d asked about Himin’s gender.

- Hoseok can’t remember how old he was- but he remembers the fairy bending down to his level in the garden. “To tell you the truth, being a girl or a boy doesn’t matter much in our part of the world. What matters is that you’re good to the people who need you and kind to the people that don’t when you meet,”

- Its that memory that gives Hoseok the strength to finally meet Jungkook’s gaze in the mirror. “I think…I want to grow out my hair.”

-“Like aunt Jiminie?” Jungkook asks, standing and moving to stand behind him, Jungkook’s hands play in the small hairs at the back of Hoseok’s neck, and he leans forward to sniff, Hoseok already smells like the ocean. “Yeah” Hoseok looks worried- like it might not have Jungkook’s approval. the set of his shoulders tense like he’s readying jungkook to say something negative. But there isn’t a change he could make that would put Jungkook’s love and devotion in jeopardy. hoseok knows that but the worry still lingers.

- Jungkook tangles a hand in Hoseok’s hair, his reflection grinning back at Hoseok- Boyish and beautiful in a way that makes hoseok ache. “We’ll grow it out together” and they do, flying back and forth across the world. When Jungkook cuts his- Hoseok doesn’t. All until it’s down to his shoulders. The first time Yoongi sees he doesn’t even mention it- not even a little bit- too busy preening and what can only be called nesting.

- It’s something he’s started to do over the years to relieve his stress, piling up every single soft thing in the room around where your glass coffin is. No doubt preparing for you’re waking in a few days. A healthy flush in his cheeks that hadn’t been there last time they’d been home.

- Seokjin doesn’t say anything, but he does tug on the end of Hoseok’s hair, twining the long red strand around his fingers. He doesn’t say anything like he might have before, sensing Hoseok’s tenseness. He leaves a few spells tacked to his and Jungkook’s door spells for hair lengthening and to change the color should Hoseok desire it.

- Yoongi is so happy to have them home he doesn’t even notice anything’s different until the day Hoseok gets into your makeup collection. It’s only for them, just a tiny bit of rouge on his cheeks and to plump up his lips. Yoongi puts down his book when Hoseok walks in, eyes tracking him as he walks in. and Hoseok feels the worry sink underneath their skin before Seokjin taps Yoongi with his book, and they both go back to reading.

- But when Hoseok goes to his room later he finds a tiny pile of cosmetics on his bedside table. A delicate sea green brocade shirt that’s flowy- all but the sleeves opaque and embroidered with tiny flowers. It looks like something jimin would wear and Hoseok touches it with a reference he doesn’t quite know how to handle. A fondness growing in his heart.

- The next time they leave, Yoongi corners him, while not corners him- but sidles up to him while he’s on the back patio when the sun is just cresting over the trees just past sunrise. Hoseok might be an early riser but Seokjin and Jungkook still need a little while to sleep. “So, should I call you she now? Is that better for you?”

- Trust yoongi to go straight to the point. He’s so awkward, so cagey and quiet. So obviously wanting to offer comfort and understanding but unsure how to reach out. He’s used to using the rolling pronouns with jimin, but to use them for his son- his child- will take a second. It’s better to ask than wonder.

- “No, not yet- if ever.” and then in the quiet of the morning, a simple truth, “they is fine for me dad.”

- “When did you know?” Yoongi has to wonder, had you and him not being open enough? You’d both never talked to Jungkook and Hoseok about jimin, but you’d both believed you’d raised your children to come to you when they had a question or a concern. And Yoongi doesn’t like the idea that Hoseok could have been holding onto these feelings for some time. too afraid to be honest.

- Hoseok doesn’t answer right away, because there isn’t a good one. Was it the way he’d never played with strictly the girls or boys in grade school? The way he’d often found himself clinging to you and wanting to dress in your pretty fabrics than the drab black clothes his father favored?

- it was hard to tell what if anything had made Hoseok first question their gender. Did his betaness cause it? Or was the difference caused by not settling purely into one side? “I met my sister.” is all he can say, the only bit of information it makes sense to proffer up.

- That- out of everything they might have said does get a reaction out of Yoongi. his hands tightening on the edge of the stone wall. “I didn’t know she was still alive.”

- “Neither did I” Hoseok busies their hands with playing with the flowers that have gathered along the rock wall, small and pink. The ever spring around them so delicate and careful. The exact way that Hoseok feels today. “She told me I’m a beta, and after that- it all kind of makes sense?”

- Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat. Then suddenly, turns his golden eyes on his…child. (That train of thought will take some time getting used to) “Well if there’s anything I can be doing better- let me know okay?” he pulses Hoseok in for a quick scent mark, and the sudden affection nudges a purr from Hoseok’s throat. But overall the conversation just leaves them feeling soft and taken care of, understood and accepted in a way Hoseok had never realized they’d craved.

- By the time they leave, Yoongi is pushing a small velvet sack of coins in their directions. “You should get a few things that fit you better the next time you're in the city.”

- And they do, Hoseok and Jungkook work their way through the cloth market with a vigor they haven’t found in years, fine silks and velvets- perfect for the cold weather up north. Most in rich tones of gold, purple and red- red is Hoseok’s favorite color. Hoseok gets their ears pierced on a whim- fills his studs with little bits of gold that make them glow when they catch sight of themselves in a mirror.

- And when they come back after a day of shopping. It's Jungkook who pulls him close. Running a finger over the corner of their mouth to correct the placement of their lipstick. A fresh tube. Sometimes Hoseok doesn’t bother putting it on, or with the more cumbersome pretty clothes, but if they’re going to see anyone, even if that someone is just Jungkook- the red lip color stays.

- When you wake a few months later; you cup Hoseok’s cheek- hands still a little shaky and reluctant to move. “You look-” you search Hoseok’s eyes for something- anything that would show misgivings, “it looks so pretty Hobi” Hoseok plays with their fingers in their lap. It’s a cute behavior, one that Jungkook’s noticed appears more as time goes on and hoseok gets more comfortable with changing their body.

- “Don’t you mean handsome?” they say, swallowing back a lump in their throat. Their long hair is pulled back today, to give the same appearance of masculinity at least from the front. Jungkook braided it this morning, he’s been learning how to do it for hoseok- not quiet as nimble with their fingers yet like Jungkook is. The moments in the morning when Jungkook brushes their hair and winds it back- are some of his favorites- the soft moments he can spend with hoseok. Hoseok didn’t want to scare you too bad, from the front- they almost look the same. “Not if you don’t want me to mean it. You can be pretty too.”

-It’s not until the next time Hoseok and Jungkook set out that they actually quantify it in words. “I think I’m like Jimin- well not- like jimin. But I think I could be.” aunty and uncle Jimin, who’s just as comfortable in a skirt as they are in a pair of pants. Jungkook leans over, combing through Hoseok’s long hair. Reaching down to the sensitive spot between his- their shoulders. “Okay” is all he says, but his smile is sweet even in the light. “That’s okay with me Hobi.”

- And it is- it always will be, as long as Hoseok has people like this, the ones that have always made him feel like it was safe to be himself- no matter what form he wants to take. Hoseok will be okay. At night, their arms tighten around Jungkook. “I want you to be okay too Kookie” Jungkook sleeps on, oblivious to the turmoil-taking root in Hoseok’s heart.

- Yes, he loves Jungkook, but can Hoseok really love in the way that Jungkook needs? Are they just keeping each other from happiness or is this the only thing they’ll ever need?

- In his arms Jungkook dreams fitfully. But down to his core, he knows If there was ever a time when he felt like he needed more from Hoseok- if what they have ever felt like not enough, He’d never do anything about it. Never ask for more. Never. They don’t need anyone else- no lover, friends, or mates. Just each other. Their bond will always be enough.

- The days spent waiting pass like sluggish honey for Yoongi, sweet when they meet the tip of his tongue but only a hint of the sweet eternity he promises you. They blend together for you- more than the dizzying cacophony of dreams. Sometimes you forget where you belong, and forget that you have to wake up.

- When you can- you strong arm and squirm your way into wherever he is, curled up around you and set a hand on his scaly cheek, there is a limit to how far you can go from your body, and that seems to be a fair mile from where you sleep. So if you wake when Yoongi flies, it’s enough to be able to sit in the garden and enjoy the flowers and sunlight. Every time you manage to knock yourself out of a dream, you can go a little bit farther. Like your soul is getting used to how it feels outside your body.

- And when you do actually stay in the dream world- lucid dreaming becomes an avid habit of yours. Taehyung teaches you how to do it. As dangerous as it is lovely to feel real things when you can, you do often get lost in the way you can change the world you’re in. Are you a god? Or just a dreamer? Taehyung’s hand in yours keeps you tethered. You wonder how he managed to keep his sanity living alone like this for so many years. In the dream world- days are years and years are eons.

- And what makes it worse is that you know it won't feel like so long when you wake- the sluggish feeling that not so much time could have passed even though you know it has. The spell around you keeps you dreaming like it's been days, while your body lives those hours as a second. Your mind and your body age out of sync.

- Yoongi’s timed it before, every hour he sees your chest rise and fall. One breath for every hour

- You feel like you’ve spent years in the dreams at this point, recreating each of your wildest fantasies. Though some feel too real not to be born of your memories. You dream of The walls of your cavern home that you haven’t gone back to in years, feeling the cold stone with a warm body behind you- Yoongi. Or hours spent just outside the front doorsteps of your manor house, waiting for Yoongi to come home with Hoseok while Jungkook plays in the field.

- Flowers that flash like beacons out of the corner of your eye, and then it’s not only Jungkook but Hoseok playing in the field too. Both of them running through the field and casting the dandelions onto the floor that spark like embers. Yoongi chases after them- both of them barely come up to his waist. You watch it from the corner of your eye knowing it will feel less real if you turn your head and look at the memory directly.

- The smell of cooking peaches stings in your nose- sour- and you know if you went into your house you could probably find taehyung there- cooking a peach pie. Though it’s a toss up if it would actually be him- and now just a memory you don’t have confused in this.

- You Watch as Hoseok flashes red from human to dragon tackling Yoongi to the ground with a warped grumbly giggle. Jungkook is quick to flop on top with one hand fisted and knocking against Yoongi’s chest, the other buried in Hoseok’s feathery coat.

-It makes you smile- the dreams- these memories are the only thing that makes you remember you’re dreaming. Because you know Hobi and Jungkook haven’t been that small for years. Your children are fully grown now.

- You wish you could go back to those times when it was simpler. And the dreams let you do just that, again and again until the memory barely feels real.

- What surprises you the most are the nightmares. They always bleed into your dreams the moment you least expect them and when you truly let your guard down. Ink darkening the edges of this story before you realize the badness is bleeding through. Anger and a wordless hunger tainting the happy moments.

- You dont think the anger comes from you- maybe its anger from the dream- the world that has found you an unwelcome guest. People aren’t supposed to sleep for so long. And the dream world tries everything it can to get you to wake up.

- Maybe it’s worried you’ll learn how to dream when you’re awake.

- The worst part about the nightmares aren’t the fear- It’s not the falling through the sky, or faceless men chasing you, monsters, or tragedies that you can’t escape. It’s that the nightmares don’t feel the same as when you were awake, no blurry edges- everything too real. These nightmares are born of your memories only to be twisted by the dream world into something more sinister.

- Sometimes you feel like they’re showing you the future- or if not the future- then something that could have happened to your family.

- The nightmares show you realities where Jungkook still wants to be a warrior. Ones where Yoongi never found him and you all meet another way, Not as a family but as enemies on the battlefield.

- In the nightmare, the war has come earlier with Yoongi at the head of the council. And he’s become everything he always feared he could have been, those whispered confessions he’d uttered to you and you’d uttered back under only the cover of darkness. “I think I might be a bad person” “it doesn’t matter if you’re good- just that you’re good to us Yoongi, and for the record- I think it shows the content of your character that you care so much- even when caring hurts”

- In the nightmare world He’s everything he would have been without you. Easily tempted to war without knowing softness and love, without having something to protect. And he’d never chosen a mate either- Yoongi is as lonely and touch-starved as he is bloodthirsty and violent.

- In this nightmare Hoseok is just another dragon soldier who hates humans because of what they’ve done to him. Hoseok and Jungkook first meet each other on opposite sides of the war. Not as brothers but as enemies. Does Hoseok fall by Jungkook’s blade? Or will Jungkook burn without ever knowing about the magic that lurked in his veins? Or worse- would he have found out and used his powers to aid the only people he’d ever known.

- Would he and Seokjin fought in that reality? Two forces so destructive that they could only take out each other- flattening the mountains and ending thousands of lives when they clash. You hear them- from where you watch them fight. the dream war is just as bloody and terrible as the real one- and it's worse to see your family fight.

- Seokjin’s face is tense, eyes slowly dripping blood as he holds the magic in his hands. and jungkook- jungkook looks almost evil. Jungkook’s words don’t sound like your son- his voice deeper- like the dream just can’t get it right “this issue here uncle- is that you have something to fight for and I do not.”

- You beg the dream world to let you wake up but Seokjin’s spell holds you there with ironclad hands.

- You wonder what’s become of taehyung in this reality. Would he have woken from his coffin without Seokjin’s magic to keep him there- or would he have stayed asleep? Never to be woken again? would he sleep the same way Seokjin does, chest broken open on the battlefield, his heart removed clutched in Jungkook’s hand?

- In the dream where Jungkook doesn't know he’s magical, you’re a medic for the human army walking along with the isles of the wounded. Treading over piles of feathers and blood to check the faintly moving chest of a young man, so beautiful despite the fact he’s nearly dead. You don’t recognize Jungkook when you look at him- barely 19 and dying without the magic to protect him and keep him alive

- Maybe it’s some consolation that this other version of you gets to hold Jungkook as he dies. Gets to soothe him and say, “it’s alright, it won’t hurt in a second, you just have to stop breathing and you’ll be at peace.” As he sputters and tries to breathe through his torn lungs. You know what those claw marks mean on his chest- that they’re too deep to ever heal. Jungkook only has minutes left with his shredded lungs.

- You’re so focused on comforting the fallen soldier that you don’t notice the beast that lurks in the shadows. Yoongi might be large but he’s also near-silent and invisible in the darkness. Yoongi only feels hate and not love as he watches you, fire growing in his belly. You might be a medic but you’re still a human and every man you save is just another that will one day fall. The kiss of fire on the back of your neck burns hot and painful one moment, and then the touch of his lips soft the next as you breathe through the nightmare.

- Those are the worst sort of dream because part of you is convinced that’s what could have happened if Yoongi had never killed Jungkook’s blood family. As gruesome as it sounds, you think you’d rather have it this way than be doomed to that fate. At least now- you’re all loved, though you’ll have to see if one day, the one you love becomes the reason the other dies. For both you and Hoseok.

- Maybe soulmates hurt each other just as often as much as love each other.

- When you wake- you tell Yoongi about the dream and kiss his forehead where his head is pillowed against your thigh. Head tilted so his horns don’t knock into your hip. “Do they feel real? The dreams in which I kill you?” he asks you. He doesn’t want you to ever think of that, the improbability of him deciding to hurt you. that you could ever believe that his hands that love you could ever hurt you makes his stomach drop. Yoongi would let himself die, would turn his hands on himself- before he let himself hurt you.

- “Sometimes” you admit, as you kiss him more, deeper now that you can verify it's real. Kisses in the dream world always feel 2d, not like now- when you can taste him and feel his warmth. Kissing him is like hello and a new daydream all at once. Sweet and sweeter because you know it's real. Syrup and honey in equal measure. “But don’t worry, I never believe those dreams for long,”

- But Yoongi does worry, And the day comes that you do forget.

- It’s one of the rare times that Hoseok and Jungkook haven’t come home in time to see you wake. They’re kept south by a snowstorm wiping through the northern lands. But Yoongi’s glad they weren’t they're- glad they didn’t see it.

- It’s the first time that you wake and don’t remember them, your memories and your mind lost to the dream world. Screaming for Taehyung of all people as you fight Yoongi’s hands (only trying to hold you up seeing as you look about ready to pass out). You backpedal on shaky legs and hit the glass edge of your coffin with a violent thud. It shatters against the floor in a great cacophony of glass shards.

- Yoongi barely scoops you up in time so that you don’t fall against them and hurt yourself. Your hands weekly pushing at him to stay away, a monster that you never learned to love, a face you don’t know.

- Taehyung is crying in his coffin as he says your name. Hand weakly reaching out to Tae, Your panic stinks in Yoongi’s nose. Your body is afraid of him- that’s what breaks his heart the most- that he can smell the fear on you and he knows he’s caused it. it's all he can do to repeat in his mind that you’re just Sleepwalking, that’s what it is. You don’t actually hate him- you couldn’t.

- But you won’t wake up- no matter how much Yoongi calls your name. How is it so much harder for you than it is for Taehyung? Seokjin’s never said he did anything like this, Taehyung has never lost himself in the dream world like this.

- The second Tae feels like he has control of his legs he pushes Yoongi off of you. Cupping your cheeks and pulling you up and onto his glass coffin. “It’s not a dream- you’re not dreaming” but your eyes dart around the room like you’re not really seeing it. Yoongi sits there surrounded by glass watching as you don’t fight Tae.

- “Y/n you’re awake- this is your real life- this isn’t another nightmare” But his words fall on your unhearing ears. You stare at Taehyung like they’re something growing out of his head- and who knows- maybe there is. A piece of the dream world that you’ve carried into your waking hours. A hallucination. Yoongi doesn’t want to think about what you might have seen when you looked at his face.

- “Why are you calling me that? That’s not my name.” that’s the final straw, Seokjin knocked out of his reverie and Yoongi pining himself to the wall while Seokjin puts you back to sleep, a thumb pressed to your forehead until you slump in Tae’s arms. Tae holds you so delicately. And it takes seeing him cry for Yoongi to recognize the wetness on his own cheeks as tears too.

- He almost wants to reach out and keep you here. Because he knows- Yoongi knows- once you go into that coffin again they’re no getting you out. One more year to tick by without you. Two at once- They’ve never done this before and they can only hope it works- that you come back whole the next time.

- By the time Jungkook and Hoseok get home at noon, Hoseok’s wings are coated with a faint layer of frost. Yoongi is still sitting out on the edge of the property, watching the faintly raging snowstorm outside the barrier. Eyes wet and dark. His arms wrapped around himself like he’s trying to comfort himself. To alleviate the ache of being untouched. Maybe it’s dramatic- but Yoongi aches like he’s been shot down by an arrow. He never knew he could get so touch starved.

- His children watch him, mixed terror and discomfort at finding their father without their mother on the one day they should be seen together. “She’s not awake- you can get inside and see her though.” yoongi feels like he’ll never be warm again.

- The eternal spring of Seokjin’s home is more than enough to have the cold dissipate, but the cold at seeing you in Tae’s coffin stays. Yours shattered to the side (Seokjin will repair it for Tae later), is something that chills Jungkook to the bone. Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s using the magic in a panic until Hoseok touches his cheek and calls his name.

-All Jungkook knows is that your coffin magically replaced behind Tae’s and that the roses on the trellis outside are sneaking in through the open window. The warmth of Hoseok’s palm is welcomed comfort that Jungkook leans into. Trying not to cry.

- Jungkook and Hoseok get the story from Tae and Seokjin and then go back outside to sit next to their father. “Am I doing the right thing? Or should we just let her wake up and-“ Jungkook is the first to shake his head. “Mom doesn’t want to die dad- she’d say the same if she could” Hoseok’s hands tighten on their pants. Their whole body shaking at the thought of letting you- just letting you die.

- “Next year- it will be different.” No one says that they don’t know that for sure. That they’re just trying whatever they think will work without knowing if you’re right. If you even can come back. Jungkook and Hoseok stay for longer this time, to comfort their father. But then-one day weeks later, he stands up.

- They’re out of books. At least for now- until Hoseok and Jungkook can rocket across the world, every swipe of Hoseok’s wings faster- harder, pushing themselves to carry more. They feel like time is ticking down.

- The next year you wake without a fuss. And no one mentions the last year to you; you don’t remember what happened at all. You have no idea that it’s been two since they last saw you. And this time- Yoongi treasures it even more. For 18 hours- he doesn’t stop touching you. A hand on your lower back or your cheek. 18 hours of love after two years of nothing.

- Hoseok watches you carefully, looking for a hint that you know what happened, that you remember it in any way. But the day remains lost to the tangle of your memories and dreams. More than once- Hoseok catches you watching them, eyes furrowed like you’re having some sort of inner debate or trying to decide if what you’re seeing is real.

- Your brief wakefulness might be their favorite part- but it’s also the scariest.

- It gets a little better, the dreams can’t create new things for you- only things you’ve experienced before really. So when you see them in newer clothes, when they actively change things about your surroundings before you wake up it makes a difference.

- Seokjin changes the spell around his castle to fall just for you, and you spend ages in the garden, pressing sweet tomatoes to Yoongi’s mouth and cooking pumpkin seeds with Hoseok and Jungkook. Hoseok excitingly shows you their new trick- a little jet of fire that they can manage on their hands in their human form. It’s far from Yoongi’s near magic control of fire but it still makes you smile and shout and give Hoseok little scratches on the head a proud feeling in your chest.

- No matter that you need to reach up to do it now- they’ve been taller than you for so long it’s hard to remember they were ever so tiny. Hoseok’s change is also another thing that makes it easier. You dislike it- and you’d never treat your child any differently than how they wanted to treat them- but when you dream Hoseok- they’re still listless in their skin, a boy along with Jungkook.

- It’s reassuring when you wake and find them still the same as ever but so much more comfortable in their skin than they’d ever been before. As a child, Hoseok had been quiet and easily anxious (only soothed by Jungkook) now they’re louder and happier, a little bit of something shimmery gold on their eyelids, dancing around the kitchen and sending off little puffs of yellow fire (only to be contained by Jungkook’s magic).

- “Really Hobi- the kitchen is made of wood- you’ve got to be careful’). Their face stretching in a familiar heart-shaped smile that you all love. Hoseok is so so happy.

- You’ve never seen them this happy, and that makes the discontent rise in your chest because- how had you never realized they weren’t? How did you never see that Comfort was a fickle thing in Hoseok’s chest in a way it wasn’t for anyone but Jimin.

- You try to remember back to their meeting sometimes. Hoseok had looked at Jimin like he hung the stars and asked more questions than anyone else. You’d assumed it was just childlike curiosity- but maybe that had a deeper meaning than you’d initially thought.

- Before you sleep you unpack some of your old clothes and hand them down to Hoseok. Fine clothes and silks that Yoongi had made for you when you lived closer to the dragon city. Seeing as you have no use for them anymore, they’re a similar size- and Hoseok is only a little bit larger than you, maybe a tad bit broader but you liked your clothes flowy and loose anyway.

- You anchor yourself with their smile when you go into the dreams again. Excited to wake and help Hoseok explore their feminine side more.

- The nightmares are ever vibrant and feverish, with reality at a resolution just out of clarity. You dream of each of your family hurt beyond repair and you dream that they’re happy without you. Those hunters grabbing a tiny Hoseok by his feathers and tear them- his beautiful- delicate wings, and pluck him like a chicken.

- They do the same to Yoongi- albeit slower, removing every inch of his wing membrane until his bones clatter together like a wind chime. You have to watch, unable to move regardless of his roars that shake the earth. Maybe it says a lot about your love if the thing you’re scared of most is not being there to comfort Yoongi.

- Other nightmares of black fire that climbs the walls and sinks close to Jungkook in his baby basket. A calamity that you cannot end, like the trudge of time- the nightmares feel like they last forever. The wand in his arm burning too- unable to bond with him. His soul burned from the inside out. You scramble over his ashes, grasping at them like it will bring him back.

- You can’t help it, sobbing like your heart was ripped out. Hoseok falling too, crying in anguish as part of his soul dies. his wings fall limp- unable to fly without Jungkook. The saddest death is that of someone who can no longer do what they love, and the second saddest is a dragon without its wings.

- It’s so sad, It’s just like that time you woke up and saw only strangers in your bedroom, the nightmares always feel so real.

Please Reblog and Comment! Likes are nice but they do little to support content creators!

Part 8: The Woman and The War *coming soon*

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ratofthemedievalsewers · 3 years

Text

Heart of Steel - Part I

DBH Connor x Male Reader

Word Count: 2.5K+

Content warning: Minor injury detail, PTSD, language

Original game dialogue I got from this video:

https://youtu.be/32Np9LKI1Vg

We were attacked in the night.

After returning from a mission back to an outpost several miles from the red zone, we removed our gear save for a few pouches on our belts we could bother with later. Our team leader set up a fire while the SQ800s, CyberLife commissioned combat androids, began loading up the trucks with extra artillery and resources. A job that could have waited until morning, but Alpha always gave the androids something to do. He said that they creeped him out when they would just stand there in a dormant state, waiting for their next mission to be given to them.

"You know what I'm going to do when I get home?"

"Here we go again."

"I'm going to get me a WR400," Foxtrot; not everyone's favourite but he certainly kept us entertained when there was nothing to do.

"Uh-huh and with what money are you going to be using to pay for this WR400? A military salary definitely ain't gonna cut it." Echo always called out Foxtrot's bullshit, he was the only one that had the patience to deal with him.

"Fine, my birthday is comin' up, if you put towards two-thirds of what it costs we can share. How does that sound?"

"I am not sharing anything with you, I don't know what diseases you carry." Their constant back forth sent chuckles through the group.

"Alright, that's enough you two. It's getting late and past everyone's bedtime, I want you all awake by O-five-hundred at the latest," Alpha would often stop them before Foxtrot would take it too far, but he could never hide the twitching smile on his face.

"Yes sir," Foxtrot mock saluted as he stood from his seat around the campfire. "Hey Echo, that offer is still-"

One moment Foxtrot had a wide grin on his face, the next there was a hole in his head between his eyes, the sound of gunshot ringing in everyone's ears.

"SHOTS FIRED! GET TO COVER NOW!"

"FOXTROT IS DOWN! I REPEAT, FOXTROT IS DOWN!"

It was dark, we couldn't see where they were firing from. The android was the only one still standing, firing off in random directions as they were gunned down. The next was Delta, shot in the left shoulder, then the throat. My gun was back in my tent and there was no chance of me getting it. Stupid.

"MEDIC! GET TO DELTA! NOW!"

"GRENADE!"

I heard the thump by my feet before I saw it. You would think it would be terrifying, to know you're staring death in the face, but for a second it was peaceful. My body was cold and I already felt like a corpse, the Rigour Mortis freezing me in place, just softly gazing at what would kill me.

Something grabbed me before the grenade exploded, saving my life but destroying the android.

The bedsheets were crumpled and soaked in sweat again when my eyes shot open. It was hard to breathe, the panic was still running through me and closing up my throat at the memory.

In; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four. Out; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four.

It took a few minutes for me to remember where I was. That I was home and that I was safe. Out of nervous habit, I gripped my dog tags, they were wet from the sweat that had soaked through my shirt in the night.

"Shit." It was four in the morning, there was no chance of getting any more sleep and the station wouldn't be open for another two more hours at the least. Saying that; Fowler wanted to speak to me first thing, which never meant anything good for anyone.

It was aching again at the joint. The biomechanical component always felt itchy where it joined at the elbow. Anytime I would have that dream I would scratch at it in my sleep, it was like my subconscious knew it didn't belong. It knew my rotting left arm was still in the desert somewhere being picked apart by vultures.

It's almost ironic; to be saved by an android and then to have part of one attached to me. I hated it.

*****

"Morning Cyborg, you look like shit." Gavin was forever pleasant to talk to.

"Fuck off, Reed." He constantly hovered around the coffee machine, hogging it like it was his newborn baby. "Is Fowler in yet?"

"Not yet, you in trouble?" He took his time making his coffee, exceeding in being the department's resident asshat. "Did he catch you looking at porn on your work terminal again?"

"I'm pretty sure that's only ever happened to you." Not wanting to be reminded of his previous escapades I got no response. Gavin let out a small huff before moving to the side with his fresh cup of coffee, freeing up the machine.

"Officer (L/N)." Oh for fuck's sake.

"Sir?" Captain Fowler stood outside his office, his coat half soaked from the rain.

"My office, I need to speak to you." He didn't give a second glance to me before turning and letting the glass door shut behind him.

"Ha, good luck cyborg." Shooting Gavin the middle finger, I followed Captian Fowler into his office.

"What was it you wished to talk about, sir?" Feet shoulder-width apart, back straight and hands behind my back; habits from the army were destined to die hard. Often I would find myself moving my hand up to salute before leaving the presence of a superior, something else for Gavin to make fun of.

"You're aware of the deviant cases I've assigned to Lieutenant Anderson, correct?" Fowler sat at his desk, wet coat now hung on its rack, but there was slight dampness to his suit blazer where his coat had been left open.

"Yes sir. I believe he's being accompanied by a prototype RK800 from Cyberlife."

"That's correct. I'm sure you're aware that these deviancy cases are on the more..."

"Dangerous?"

"...Unpredictable side. Now, I can't exactly issue a gun to a prototype android if it's going to be in the field and, while I value Hank as a police officer, his record is on the rougher side."

"Captain Fowler, with all due respect, I don't believe-"

"Office (L/N), with all due respect, you don't have an opinion in this matter. I want you to accompany Lieutenant Anderson in these assignments just in case a deviant becomes too much for him or this android to handle. You've certainly got the skillset for it and you're not unfamiliar with working alongside androids, unlike quite a few officers in this department."

"I understand that, but-"

"Whatever you're gonna say I don't want to hear it." Captain Fowler didn't give me a chance to argue as he stood and walked to his office door, the annoyed look on his face worsening. "Hank, in my office!"

I let out a sigh before Captain Fowler turned back to his desk. Through the office wall made of glass Hank reluctantly made his way towards us grumbling something under his breath at the request, the RK800 model obediently following behind him like a little, lost puppy. Hank sat in the chair opposite Fowler while the android stood next to me, giving a small smile as a greeting.

Captain Fowler was the first to talk, "I've got ten new cases involving androids on my desk every day. We've always had isolated incidents, old ladies losing their android maids and that kind of crap... But now, we're getting reports of assaults and even homicides, like that guy last night. This isn't just cyberlife's problem anymore, it's now a criminal investigation and we've gotta deal with it before the shit hits the fan. I want you to investigate these cases, alongside officer (L/N) and see if there's any link."

"Why me? And why do I need a god damned partner? A stupid android is already too much. Why do I gotta be the one to deal with this shit?" Props to Hank for trying, but arguing with Fowler was like talking to a brick wall. "I am the least qualified cop in the country to handle this case! I know jack shit about androids, Jeffery. I can barely change the settings on my own phone."

"Everybody's overloaded. I think you're perfectly qualified for this type of investigation," They were already starting to blow up at each other.

"Bullshit! The truth is nobody wants to investigate these fuckin' androids and you left me holdin' the bag!"

"CyberLife sent over this android to help with this investigation and I've given you (L/N) as well. You've got a state of the art prototype and a leading police officer to act as your partners."

"No fuckin' way! I don't need partners, and certainly not this plastic prick and some action hero fucker."

"Nice working with you too, Lieutenant Anderson," I said under my breath, not intending for the others to hear. Connor turned his head slightly in my direction, I could see his LED blink yellow for a moment before going back to its bright blue.

"Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off! You are a police lieutenant, you are supposed to do what I say and shut your goddamn mouth!"

"You know what my goddamn mouth has to say to you, huh?"

"I'll pretend like I didn't hear that, so I don't have to add any more pages to your disciplinary folder 'cause it already looks like a fuckin' novel! This conversation is over."

"Jeffrey, Jesus Christ! Why are you doin' this to me? You know how much I hate these fuckin' things. Why are you doin' this to me?" Most of the department knew why he had such a distaste towards androids, no one could necessarily blame him. Ever since losing his son Hank had become completely different as both a person and an officer. Admittedly, Fowler was harsh on him, but if he wasn't then Hank would drift.

"I've had just enough of your bitching. Either you do your job or you hand in your badge. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." Hank left in a strop, letting out his frustration on Fowler's office door.

"Well then..." Connor was quick to break the tense silence. His voice caught me off guard, it was smoother, more human than any android's I had heard before. The SQ800's voices had always been more robotic than other models so it had been a shock when the androids back home had sounded so normal, it felt like that all over again. It was jarring. "I won't keep you any longer. Have a nice day captain."

Connor left and I followed behind, giving a small nod of dismissal to Fowler despite him still looking at his terminal screen.

The android went straight to Hank either oblivious or ignoring the lieutenant's current bad mood, granted there was never a time the bastard was in a good mood. Heaven itself could rain down on Detroit and he'd huff at it like a hair in his food.

"I got the impression my presence causes you some inconvenience, Lieutenant. I'd like you to know I'm very sorry about that. In any case, I'd like you to know I'm very to be working with you." Ever the enthusiast.

"I'd give in now. You're talking to a toddler in a fifty-year old's body and the toddler is having a hissy fit." I half sat and half leant against Hank's desk, using my arms to support my weight.

"Apologies, I don't believe I've introduced myself. My name is Connor, I am the android sent by CyberLife." He turned to me, a gentle and manufactured smile on his face. "It's a pleasure to be working with you too, officer (L/N). I'm sure we'll make a great team."

"Er... (Y/N) is just fine."

"Is there a desk anywhere I could use?"

"No one's using that one." Hank points to the desk opposite him, while still sulking like a child.

"Gasp, it speaks," I said in a sarcastic tone while turning to Hank.

"Fuck off. I've already got an android on my ass, I don't need you on it too."

I grabbed a terminal pad before perching myself back at the edge of Hank's desk while Connor got comfortable at the empty one. The light at the side of his head flashing yellow for a moment like he was hesitant to speak."You have a dog, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"The dog hairs on your chair. I like dogs. What's your dog's name?"

"What's it to you?" Hank shifted in his seat, "...Sumo... I call him Sumo."

"Under all those shitty shirts and questionable stains there's a warm, beating heart," I say more to myself than the other two, skimming over the recent case files sent in by Fowler.

"Officer (L/N)... (Y/N), knowing that we'd be working together I read your academy and field records. You have quite an interesting background."

"Oh yeah, then you understand that I may be a little driven to get these cases over with. I can't say I'm a fan of you terminators."

"I understand you have a... warped view of androids due to what you've experienced, but I hope you understand that I am your partner and not your enemy."

"Connor, you're not my partner, you're cyberlife's latest gizmo for us kick around." I sigh, turning to sit at my desk adjacent to hanks, taking the terminal pad with me. "Just look through the deviant case files. Terminals on your desk, knock yourself out."

They're nothing but machines. They are not your friends.

"Two-hundred and forty-three files, the first date back nine months. It all started in Detroit... And quickly spread across the country." Connor had only connected the terminal moments before.

"Don't work your CPU too hard," I mutter under my breath, catching a quick huff of amusement from Hank.

"An AX400 is reported to have murdered a man last night. That could be a good starting point for our investigation." Hank was doing his best to pretend Connor didn't exist, but the android was persistent. Connor stood from his chair and made his way into Hank's personal space.

"Uh, Jesus..." Hank turned his chair away.

"I understand you're facing personal issues, Lieutenant, but you need to move past them and-" For an android, Connor has some balls on him.

"Hey! Don't talk to me like you know me. I'm not your friend and I don't need your advice, okay?" Hank's mood had soured like milk, it wouldn't be long until Fowler was adding another page to Hank's disciplinary folder.

"I've been assigned this mission Lieutenant, I didn't come here to wait until you feel like working."

"Connor, you're just gonna-" I had wasted my breath, Hank had already stood and was grabbing onto Connor by the collar of his Cyberlife jacket and slamming against the screen next to his desk. "Hank!"

"Listen asshole. If it were up to me, I'd rather throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off... or things are gonna get nasty."

"Hank," I placed a hand on his shoulder to try and lightly pull him away from Connor but only earned a nasty side-eye. "Leave off him, you don't get paid enough to replace him."

"Lieutenant... Officer (L/N), uh... sorry to disturb you," Looks like the tin can was saved before Hank could knock the light out of him, "I have some information on the AX400 that killed that guy last night. It's been sighted in the Ravendale district."

"I'm on it." Hank didn't glance back when he dropped Connor's collar. The puppy dog look on his face almost made me feel bad for him... almost.

"Come on, WALL-E. Don't want to keep the old man waiting."

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #dbh fanfic #dbh x reader #dbh x male reader #connor x male reader #connor rk800 #male reader #m! reader #connor x m!reader

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bukojuiice · 3 years

Text

this is how you fall in love ━ levi ackerman

ೃ pairing: (levi ackerman x gn! reader)

ೃ the entire division of the survey corps are not convinced that you and levi are absolutely actually together. however, it took a small expedition outside of the walls and an abnormal titan incident for everyone to coo adoringly at the soft and loving demeanor that levi holds around you and only you.

ೃ genre and warnings: canonverse, fluff, and strong language.

ೃ my nav → my aot masterlist → sign up for my taglist

ೃ 1.6k words

ೃ dedicated to one of my first uni friends, @ryscenery because if the two of us didn’t yell (affectionately) at each other for our love for levi, this fic may have never been birthed. i hope you enjoy! 🥺

Love certainly makes you do the wacky. But in a world where chaos is imminent, war is always looming, and people die to giant man-eating humanoid monsters, how can one possibly make their life akin to that of a romance novel?

Well, unfortunately, you can't.

It's a Live and Let Die world, after all.

But... to the remaining few of humanity who are strong and lucky enough to be still wandering the faces of the unknown world, love is a treasure. A gift only a few can find.

And somehow, and someway, you were lucky enough to find comfort in someone you never thought you'd expect to find.

Levi Ackerman.

The stoic and blunt smart-ass captain of the Survey Corps? Yes, him.

Honestly, it's quite a surprise. No one would have ever thought that someone could shake the world of Humanity's Strongest Soldier. It almost felt like a dream, honestly. Your subordinates and co-captains can't even get their heads wrapped around the fact that there's something between the two of you. Well, it's not like either you and Levi were bold enough to rub it in other people's faces.

Even Hanji, who made it seems as if they were utterly convinced over the fact that the two of you are together by teasing the two of you every time that you were within a few feet of each other, has their doubts.

It didn't take long until a minor expedition outside the walls made everyone in the division finally realize how much you and Levi were pining lovestruck dorks when hidden from the eyes of prying and spying soldiers.

An attempted attack from an abnormal titan had forced you to stray away from the rest of your squad's formation. Baiting the abomination away from your subordinates led you to get lost in the outskirts of an abandoned town. With a terribly injured leg, none of your essential equipment with you, and with no means of communication, you had no choice but to wait for the rest of the scouts on patrol to find you.

However, you were afraid of one person.

Levi knows how strong and how much you can hold up in a fight (Your Titan kill count is one of the highest in the Corps), but he hates how reckless you can get. How stubborn. How irrational your decisions can be at times and how much you hate the fact that he reprimands you for the littlest mistakes. Even if those mistakes could ultimately be the cost of your own life.

Catching sight of a shadowy figure and the sound of the clopping of horses from beyond a steep hill, you brace yourself for another long and agonizing lecture from Levi as he continues to approach.

"Captain (Y/N)!" Armin, a rookie soldier from your fleet, calls out. A look of relief forming on his face. "We brought Captain Levi! He's just behind us!"

"Oh, great." You whisper, grimacing to yourself. "Just great." Your wounded leg fails you as you try to prop yourself up onto your horse, falling back down on a mound of rubble.

You only wish you could know what Levi is feeling right now once he sees the predicament you've brought upon yourself once again.

"Captain (Y/N) has strayed away from our formation!" Jean reports sternly, a tinge of worry straining his voice. "They have diverted an abnormal titan from ruining our formation! As of now, none of us in the fleet know of their whereabouts! Neither do they have a flare gun nor any kits in case of an emergency, as they have left them with Krista before the expedition!"

Erwin clears his throat, shaking his head to try and keep his calm facade. "We'll send some soldiers to scout the-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, the distinct cry of a nearby horse could be heard. As the rest of the surviving soldiers turn their heads to where the sound came from, they could do nothing but stare agape at Levi's fleeting figure cross through the safe area and again into dangerous territory. No one could dare to stop him, after all. There was no way.

All they could do was stare in awe at the dramatic yet sweet gesture of the stone-hearted captain that happened right before their tired eyes.

Maybe now they're finally convinced that the two of you are actually together.

(Levi's POV)

I sprinted through the vast fields with all the remaining strength I could muster. After a long exhibition, I didn't expect I'd have to drag my ass around to find (Y/N). Yet, I could not recall the last time I found myself so short of breath.

Dammit. Please be safe.

I am only vaguely surprised to feel an icy trickle of sweat on the back of my neck and my wringing hands as I hold onto the saddle.

Hurry... I must hurry.

There was not a moment to waste. If there were a titan to cross through these shitty grasslands ever again, I'd have to kill these fuckers as fast as I can. Whatever it took to reach them.

....How unlike me.

I hated this feeling. I knew it was inevitable and could happen anytime, but my body launched forward before Erwin could even give his command. Duty decreed that I should have informed him, but the thought came far too late.

I have no doubt Erwin will conjure some excuse for me. After all, this is what everyone wanted, right? Didn't they want to see more proof of my undying love for them? Just because I don't make goo-goo eyes at them doesn't mean I wouldn't defy everything just to keep them safe.

Perhaps I am being irresponsible... but I have no choice but to put my trust in him.

For now, I have someone more important than anything else, someone I cannot fail. Someone I must save.

At the end of the maddeningly long field of nothingness and stark skies, my destination hoves into view.

As (Y/N)'s weakened figure appears closer and closer to me, I abruptly halt my steed and dismount from it. With all my strength once again, I rush to their side.

Moments later, you hear Levi's voice, whom you had seen off just this morning. Wincing in pain due to your injuries, you mentally prepare yourself for another scolding.

"Keep safe" were the words he'd never fail to whisper every time the both of you are forced to depart from each other. It wasn't the most romantic saying out there, but it meant a lot. Especially coming from Levi. He was not the most physically affectionate beau out there, but these little sweet nothings were enough to make your heart flutter.

Observing his looks as he approaches, Levi almost seems panicked. Out of breath, even breaking a sweat... you can't even remember the last time you saw him like this.

His piercing gaze bore into yours, and you felt as though you might fall into it.

Levi takes one step towards you and then another.

"I-I'm fine... okay?" You puff your chest and tug at his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry. I kicked that titan's ass before it could even get a hand of me. How about you? Are you alright? You're breathing so heavily."

He doesn't answer your question but instead drops his gaze into your shaking hands.

"(Y/N)..." His voice was barely audible, a whisper. There's this exasperated look in his eyes that you can't quite describe. And yet, through that faintest movement of his lips, you knew what he meant to say.

"Levi, listen. I'm-"

---And yet... he did not allow you to finish.

Soft warmth pressed against your lips. And his embrace... so intense yet so gentle.

He didn't have to say it with words; This is the first time Levi has shown such love through his touch. Kind, yet powerful. His kiss felt like the wings of butterflies, beating softly upon lips of crushed petals.

You remain in his arms, held tight to the Captain's chest.

The suddenness of his actions came as a surprise, of course... but even so.

The heat radiating from your bodies brought such a wellspring of happiness to you. You were so happy. So very, very happy.

It was so profound that you wished that it might never end.

"Tch. I thought I was going to lose you..." He trails off, squeezing your arm in slight annoyance. "W-why do you always have to be so damn reckless? Why can't you just stick to the plan?"

"Reckless is my middle name after all." You giggle, the kiss ever so deepening.

You're suddenly brought back into reality when a flustered cough echoes from behind you.

You and Levi took it as your cue to finally let go, releasing one another.

"I hope we're not interrupting something..." You turn to see Armin Arlert, a rookie from your fleet, approach the two of you awkwardly. "I'll be tending to Captain (Y/N)'s wounds... if you'd allow me." He clears his throat, clearly intimidated by the cold and striking facade emanating from Levi.

"Captain Erwin sent us." Mikasa added stoically. Ah yes, the ever so tactful commander.

"Were you brats watching?"

"No! Of course not!" Jean, Sasha, and Connie who were lagging from behind, dismiss Levi's claims with a dramatic wave of their hands. "We totally weren't-"

Levi sighs, "Look. Even if you were, I wouldn't get mad." There's a slight blush that slowly creeps on his face yet quickly fades away. "Just... don't get into details once Hanji or Erwin tries to bug you about it, alright?"

"Yes, Captain!"

"Thank you for coming to pick us up." You smile weakly as you let Armin kneel to tend to your wounds. "Who knows what could have happened if we were left here alone?" You nudge Levi's shoulder suggestively."

He smirks, chuckling to himself. "If we were, then they'll finally have more proof that the two of us are actually together, won't they?"

taglist: @crapimahuman @hu-tao-main @smg-valeria @moonless-abyss @midnightangelfox @dukina @chibishae34 @arvinrusselisbae @kenmakeii @eissaaaa @yummyyumi @the-one-that-lurks @prxttyguardian

#snk x reader #aot x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #attack on titan #levi ackerman fluff #levi x gn!reader #attack on titan x reader

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kyberheart · 3 years

Text

A Deceitful Creation Part #1 - Wolffe x F!Reader

Part #2

Summary: You’ve been trying for a while now to get pregnant with your lover. Knowing that may never happen, you ask for some outside help from Wolffe on the down-low...

Word Count: 1483

Warnings: 18+, piv sex, infidelity, pregnancy/trying for a baby, cursing, angst

A/N: Heyyyyyyyy.... I’m still here! I had some stuff going on this past week so I missed my Friday fic upload, but hey! It’s Sunday, only missed it by a few days so whatever. I’m still working on part #3 of my little Techy-boy story. Hopefully will be finished by Friday the 3rd! Heh... part #3 on the 3rd... perfect. ANYWAY I hope you like this little blurb I wrote. I wanted maximum sad with lots of OOF. I kept the summary and header as vague as possible to not spoil the end. Good luck in there!

(Ao3 Link if ya want it)

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

Wolffe was different with you. All teeth and tongue and nails dug into the plump flesh of your thighs. The look adorning his eyes in this moment is akin to a knife’s edge; he was holding back as not to tear you to shreds.

Your lover on the other hand, well… he was the whisper of a cool breeze in the night. A cascading avalanche of stolen breaths and languid strokes. Completely and utterly tender with you.

“C-close Wolffe, almost…I’m—!”

He nods, stooping to kiss you, but swiftly retracts his head with a tiny scowl. He knew the rules. No marks that can’t be covered up, no pet names, and under no circumstances can he kiss you. This was just a mutually beneficial transaction. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I got you… I got you…”

He’s reaching down, down, down to make contact with your clit. You keen, dropping your head back into the mattress. He fucks you through your orgasm, spilling inside of you as your legs wrap tightly around his waist. You tremble under him as you come down from your high. In a blur of muscle-memory Wolffe is reaching behind you for a pillow. He props your hips upward with it, grinding into you a few more times to make sure his seed is in there nice and deep.

“If this isn’t the one, I’m not sure if I can help. Maybe what they say is true, maybe we’re all infertile. I mean, I’ve heard rumors of defectors running off and getting people knocked up, but…” He shrugs, pulling out of you to head into the ‘fresher. You sigh, staring at the grey ceiling above you. That really wasn’t the case. Some were infertile, yes. You knew that all too well…

“I’m headed out. I have a supply run to facilitate. You alright?”

Wolffe grunts as he snaps his scratched armor around himself. He wasn’t much for conversations after the act. Rather, he preferred to be on his merry way as fast as possible. It wasn’t so much to avoid catching feelings as it was to steer clear of talking. He was undoubtedly the most stand-offish of the clones you knew. You were often surprised at how easy it was to lure him into the bedroom with how hostile his demeanor could be. Though on second thought he was just a normal guy. Sex is just as fun for him as it is for others.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks Wolffe. If this one doesn’t stick I’ll leave you alone.”

He pauses to search your face. You smile at him, wrapping your arms around your chest with a sleepy yawn. A garbled message blips from his forearm, which he answers with a quick acknowledgement before seating his helmet onto his head.

“Understood. I’ll see you around. Say hi to my vod for me when he gets back.”

And with that, he’s silently leaving your apartment into the void beyond. In the silence of the room your mind wanders once more. You think of your lover. Where was he right now? Somewhere far, far away? Somewhere he was safe? Was he warm, fed, and happy?

The cool dribble of Wolffe’s cum down your thigh snaps you from your rumination. You glance at the clock, finding it’s already been twenty minutes since he’d left. More than enough time, you think. With a quick curl of your spine you’re up on your feet and heading to the ‘fresher for a nice long shower. Hopefully when you were out you’d have a comm or a message from your lover.

----------------- He hunches low, lips hovering so close to your ear his hot breaths could have burned a hole through your head.

“That’s it baby, such a good girl. Just a—oh, squeezing me so tight tonight, huh? This’ll be the one, the kriffing ONE. Gonna fuck you full, fill you up to bursting. Make you s-swell with my baby. Can’t wait to see you like that… all mine…”

You cum so hard the world around you dissipates into nothing but him. He growls, pitching you forward with his angled thrusts. His hips crush you into the bed as he cums right along with you. His amber eyes sizzle with freshly tapped desire. Whispered adorations mingle between the two of you, lost to the spinning darkness of the night. When you’ve calmed your heaving breaths, you reach up to grab one of the pillows above you. He helps you position it under your hips before kissing you roughly. Between pecks, he speaks with a heart full of gentle sweetness.

“I’ll keep doing this—you’ll see. We’ll have a little one running around before you know it. Our little adi’ka… yeah…”

His eyes grow distant, lips stilling at the nape of your neck. You huff, smacking his shoulder with your hand.

“I know babe, don’t worry. With how much you’ve been between my legs I think we’ll be having LOTS of them running around.”

You wink at him, leaning up to kiss him again. He chuckles, reciprocating your heavy prodding tongue with his own within your mouth.

“I just… I know we’ve been trying for over a year… what if I...”

You shoot him a frown, tilting your head up to look him straight in the eyes. The fact of the matter was daunting and sat like tepid acid on your tongue. If he knew he wasn’t able to sire children, it would truly break him.

“NO! You are perfectly fine the way you are. I’d know, remember? I’m chief medical officer here dummy. You—WE have nothing to worry about. It’ll happen when the time is right. Trust me.”

He smiles at you, the sight of which could warm even the frostiest planet of Hoth into the dunes of Tatooine. All your love, all your patience and turmoil and sympathy and curiosity and… kriff, you’re everything was him. All him, always was and always will be. Him.

-------------------- The vividness of your dream wakes you with a start. It seemed to be recurring the last few days, a memory of the last time you and your lover were together. You shake your head of the images that haunted you. If only he was home, you wouldn’t worry so much about him.

It had already been a few weeks since Wolffe had occupied your bed. A queasy feeling was beginning to settle low in your stomach. Your lover hadn’t been back in a long while, and you were starting to think something wasn’t right.

You rise to pee, realizing in the dimly lit hush of dawn that this was becoming a frequent occurrence for you. When your shirt brushes a bit too roughly against one of your nipples you yelp. Were they always so sore in the morning? Wait…

Could this be it? A surge of adrenaline hits you like a Hammerhead Corvette as you rush into the ‘fresher. Not long after, you have a small white strip laying on your counter. Your knee bobs with anticipation, head in your hands as you sit on the hard tiled floor. This might just be it!

As the lines swell in the tiny viewport, you force yourself to breathe as deeply as possible. The memory pushes it’s way to the front of your mind once more to taunt you, to make you feel a twinge of guilt at what you’ve done. With a groan you run your fingers soothingly through your hair. You knew you could do this. Joy, passion, and relief would pave over the deceit from which this baby would be born. Your lover would never know the truth, but it was unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Forging a life, a family for the two of you was all that mattered right now.

The time is up. The minutes counted down with bated breaths. A scream tears its way from your throat as you see the result:

Pregnant

Before you can have a full-blown excitement meltdown, a beeping from the other room draws your attention. Your comm sits on your nightstand, signaling you of an incoming message. The words flash on the screen as you wipe tears from your eyes:

Dropping in to save a Jedi Master on Lola Sayu. Don’t worry, should be home before your pretty little head hits the pillow. See you soon my love. My heart is yours, forever.

Oh, you were squealing with delight now. It was finally happening! For REAL! This was a dream come true. A baby… you were going to have a baby! And your lover was going to be home by the end of the day. You wanted to comm him, send him a picture of the test, yell it to the kriffing UNIVERSE that you were fulfilling a long-awaited dream. Both of you were. You calmed yourself, resolving to tell him in person when he got home.

You couldn’t wait until Echo was back!

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lepusrufus · 3 years

Text

Double edged scalpel ch. 1

It's finally here fellas.

Mandatory warnings: blood, gore, medical stuff and procedures (like...a lot), all the canon typical good and bloody stuff, past abuse and alcoholism, eventual nsfw, strong language.

----

Gold, red and white. With black outlines. A delicate floral pattern carefully embroidered, firm but not rough underfoot. Covering the better part of the room's dark, ancient looking floorboards.

Memorizing every minute detail of the carpet she was standing on was probably better than to dare meet the piercing golden gaze of the castle's matriarch. At least Nicole hoped as much.

Lady Dimitrescu was sitting in front of her, the size of her chair making it look more akin to a throne, and took a long drag of her cigarette. Her eyes fixated on the girl in front of her, almost as if she could measure her worth by glance alone. And in all honesty, she probably could. After a long, drawn out exhale of smoke, the Lady finally spoke.

"You do seem to have an...interesting set of skills that could prove itself useful. That is, assuming you're being truthful."

Nicole's eyes went wide, shock thankfully hidden by her long fringe. She had no documents on her, no way of proving anything about her past. Trying to remember the whereabouts of at least her passport only brought forth a vague memory of drunkenly stumbling in a hotel room that made her cringe internally.

She was about to stammer an excuse, a convincing one she hoped, when a small chorus of giggles came from beyond the closed door. The sound proved to be more interesting than her existence, as the Lady turned her gaze towards the door and waited. Waited for three other women, all in long black robes, to enter the room.

The redhead and brunette seemed to be bickering amongst themselves, while the blonde made a beeline for her mother and passed her a sealed envelope.

"Oh thank you. I will take a look in a moment."

"Who's that?" The redhead, Daniela she deducted, finally took her attention off her sister long enough to notice the room’s other occupant.

"Our newest maid, dears. I was just thinking about what task to give her."

Daniela's eyes gave her a once over and Nicole gulped slightly. "Oh, mother! Have her clean the library!"

"There's already a maid assigned to that," the eldest, Bela, pointed out.

"I have a better idea." Cassandra finally spoke up, before her mother had a chance to intervene in her daughters' back and forth.

The brunette leaned down slightly, close to her mother's ear and whispered something that Nicole could never dream of deciphering. But if the smile that soon followed on red painted lips was of any indication, the middle daughter's idea was brilliant. Or dreadful, depending on your perspective.

"Very well. But you'll supervise her, you know that part of the castle is off limits for the staff."

"Gladly," was Cassandra's response, voice full of mirth.

"Just one thing," Lady Dimitrescu said, opening a drawer from the desk next to her and pulling out a key. "The key to your chambers. For after you've completed your duties."

Nicole took the key with a slight bow and a thank you, my Lady, and unceremoniously shoved it in her pocket, hoping it wouldn't fall throughout the day.

Well that seemed to have gone well, as far as interviews for a job at a castle full of horrors go. Though she really had hoped not to deal with the daughters so soon, let alone be stuck following the family sadist down long corridors to who knows where, only stopping to ask another maid for cleaning supplies along the way.

Beautiful hallways, ornate with priceless paintings, gave way to more barren ones, where the wallpaper had peeled ever so slightly in places and the floor, now stone, had an occasional red stain that whoever was in charge of cleaning this part of the castle did not bother with. They walked until reaching a set of heavy double doors. Despite the slight state of disrepair of the hallway leading up to them, the doors looked extremely well kept. Not a speck of rust on the metal frame nor the lock. The wood looked sturdy and polished, if not for a few almost imperceptible scratches. And the Dimitrescu crest, cut through the middle so half of it was on each door, the flower petals shiny in the low light and beautifully detailed.

Cassandra rummaged through a hidden pocket for a couple of seconds and pulled out an old fashioned key. With a grin, she wasted no time in unlocking the doors and pushing one of them open, enough for the two of them to pass through. Then, just as quickly, the doors were locked again with a click.

The pair descended on a precariously slippery set of stairs, Nicole praying that she wouldn't drop the bucket of water she was now carrying, until they were deep within the bowels of the castle.

She was sure they were headed towards the cells, just slightly out of view across a short dark corridor, but then Cassandra took a sudden right turn. She looked downright giddy. Like a little girl on her way to get her favorite ice cream, walking ahead with a spring in her step. Except her steps turned into menacing echoes, encompassing them in an almost suffocating manner.

At the end of the hallway, Cassandra threw open a smaller set of doors, doing a dramatic spin in the center of the room.

"Welcome to my little… work room. It's quite lovely, but unfortunately a pain to keep clean." The sadness in her expression was nothing more than a poorly concealed act. An act that she didn't care much for keeping up, as she went into a fit of giggles right after finishing her sentence.

Said room was decently sized, a long desk running across one of the walls, while the opposite one had a wide variety of weapons in varying degrees of dirtiness. On another wall various devices that looked very much for torture and very much well used were hanging from hooks or long nails. And finally-...oh.

Oh.

On the far side of the room, two autopsy tables were lined, head end against the wall, their metal surface glistening slightly under the blood -both old and new- splattered on them.

And Nicole was supposed to clean this bloody mess.

"I want every tool in this room sparkling clean, including the tables," the brunette said with a wicked smile.

"Of course, my lady." With a slight bow of her head, Nicole started with the weapons.

A sword, a dagger, a very old looking scythe, another sword but this one made to be welded with two hands and countless more. All with various amounts of blood dried on them. Blood that was surprisingly easy to clean off, aside from a couple more rusty blades. Whatever cleaning products they used, it was clearly very effective at cleaning gory messes. Shocker.

After finishing that portion of the room, Nicole moved to the adjacent wall, where the torture devices were hanging. She started wiping a vaguely human shaped metal frame when she heard light shuffling. It took a decent amount of self control to stay focused on the task at hand and not flinch when Cassandra was suddenly behind her, leaning down next to her ear. She was so close that her brunette hair was lightly brushing against Nicole's cheek, in an annoyingly ticklish manner. So close that Nicole got a faint whiff of roses from the perfume most likely applied earlier that day. It would have been nice if it weren't drowned out by a familiar metallic scent. To the brunette's defense though, it was hard to tell whether the blood scent was from her or from the room itself.

After a few eternally long seconds of just hovering there, Cassandra finally spoke.

"This is one of my favorites." She caressed the metal surface the same way one would a puppy’s head. "We strap men to this, cut their wrists open and let them bleed out." The sentence was finished with a sinister cackle.

It would have crept Nicole out too, if it weren't for the one thought that immediately jumped to the forefront of her mind. That's so ineffective. She weighed her options, with Cassandra still hovering over her shoulder in a position that couldn't have been comfortable given their height difference, and spoke tentatively.

"Wouldn't the femoral artery be more efficient…?"

The other girl froze for a second, narrowing her eyes and then scoffed, finally raising back up.

"Who wants efficiency? The point is to prolong their suffering."

She then dramatically plopped down in a chair, occupying herself with sharpening the curved blade of a sickle. She threw the occasional pointed look at Nicole each time she moved from one device to another to see if it would get a reaction out of her. It didn’t.

The devices were clean and it was time for the autopsy tables. Muscle memory kicked in and the metal surface was expertly wiped, blood and bits of flesh cleaned from every nook and cranny. After that she bent down to pull out the drainage tanks in which blood and bodily fluids accumulated. A piece of advice from what felt like an eternity ago screamed in her mind. When in doubt, hold your breath! And she did. Being used to the smell of decay did not mean being immune to it, and gagging in front of your new employee was quite the bad first impression. Luckily, it wasn't nearly as bad as she expected. Aside from some old stagnant blood, the tanks were otherwise clean. She washed both in the sink nearby and put them back in place with a content smile, hidden by the fact that her back was towards the other girl. When she turned around, Cassandra was scowling, sickle abandoned in her lap in favour of angrily drumming her gloved fingers on the desk's surface. A cold shiver ran down Nicole's spine, sure that she was about to get impaled by that very sickle in the next few seconds. When the brunette rose to her feet, she made peace with the fact that that was how she was going to die. In the humid basement of a medieval castle, on the first day of her job there. But Cassandra didn't approach her. Instead she paced around the room, scrutinizing eyes going over each and every instrument and, finally, on the now reflective surface of the tables. Her golden gaze then zeroed in on Nicole and, with a hint of a growl in her voice, said:

"Alright. We're done here. Follow."

Without sparing her another look, she unceremoniously threw open the doors and started walking down the corridor they had previously traversed. Nicole almost had to do a light jog to keep up with Cassandra's long strides, the glee in her posture now completely gone and replaced by frustration.

After exiting the dungeons and getting back to the more populated areas of the castle, Cassandra called out for the first maid that crossed their path.

"You. Show this one to her quarters," she ordered and took off before the girl even had a chance to finish her yes, my lady.

Nicole and the other girl stood there for a couple seconds, until Cassandra's form dissipated into a swarm of insects and disappeared around a corner. Then the air seemed to be lighter, the threat of death no longer looming over their heads but reduced to a whispered reminder at the back of their minds.

The pair strolled in silence down hallways that Nicole tried to commit to memory, until they reached a set of doors, modest, yet as elegant as the rest of the castle. Beyond them was a large room, with sofas and coffee tables for the staff to gather around with the central space left open. The large windows, occupying the better part of the wall to their left, sported beautifully intricate patterns of tinted glass, held together by heavy iron frames. Nicole mentally scoffed, realizing that she was looking at over glorified window bars and followed the other maid inside.

"Do you have the key to your room?"

Nicole pulled the key from her pants' pocket, pants that were now stained and dirty. Could've at least let me change, sheesh. The other girl took one look at the number engraved on the key and motioned for Nicole to follow her down one of the two corridors that opened up on the far side of the room.

It almost reminded her of the hotels she and her family stayed at during her childhood. Dark hallways with doors on each side, the occasional person scurrying to their room and the big communal area. Except this looked far older and, in a weird way, cozier.

Nicole came close to crashing into the other maid when she abruptly stopped and opened one of the doors, revealing a small room equipped with the necessary furniture for one person.

"Well, look on the bright side: you get your own room." The other girl hummed, handing her the key. "I should get you your uniform. Size?"

"Uh..an S please."

In the five minutes it took the other maid to return, Nicole had time to take in her new home. She also noticed that someone had already placed her duffle bag near the bed. A sigh of relief left her lips at the small consolation that at least the few belongings she brought with her were here. Including her phone.

"Huh. I thought they'd take it-" she had a better look at the screen. "Ah. No service. Of course."

Not that she needed service for anything. The whole point of being there was to be as far as possible from anyone, but being able to check the news would've been nice.

"Here you go!" She was snapped out of her thoughts by the maid’s way too cheerful tone.

Nicole rushed to help with the stack of clothing and, once they were safely on the bed, the other girl spoke.

"There's seven uniforms, one for each day. Laundry is done on Mondays. Two pairs of flats and…" She trailed off pointing at a small wooden basket she had brought with the clothes. "Some toiletries and essentials. There's a perfume and broche with the family crest in there that I advise you make use of. The Lady likes her staff at a certain standard."

Nicole nodded along and sat on the bed, finally letting exhaustion settle into her bones. The last few weeks had been a blurry hell. Everything from running away, to traveling, to coming to the village and finally the castle. She felt ready to curl up under a blanket and sleep for two weeks. But alas, she couldn’t afford the luxury of such rest. She almost forgot that she wasn’t alone in the room, until its other occupant spoke up.

"Oh by the way, what's your name?"

"Nicole," she answered, extending a hand.

"A pleasure to meet you. Anita," the other girl shook it with a warm smile.

#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #resident evil village #fanfic #double edged scalpel #unhinged maiden™ my beloved

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Lacking In Facts

Requested by @ateliefloresdaprimavera: Y/n’s having a heart to heart with Enola, she finally admits to someone that Sherlock is the love of her life, but she believes he's in love with her cousin, Irene Adler. She says she knows this because he still has Irene’s picture in his study, and he used to mix up their names. BUT, Sherlock is behind the door, listening to everything, and she couldn't be more wrong! She thinks he married her out of pity, but the truth is that he was never very good at expressing emotion, and he thought she was just shy. So, when they go back home that day, Sherlock tells his wife everything he's feeling, and they finally made up (and maybe, some kids in the future)

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, me not proof-reading oops

Words: 1,185

Summary: (See Request)

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @thewarriorprincessxo, @maan24, @beckster07890, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow

Masterlist | Henry Cavill Masterlist

Y/n was in the office, arms behind her resting atop the smooth wood of the desk she leaned against. Enola, sitting in her brother’s chair like a little doll in a child’s seat, listened with furrowed brows as her sister-in-law spoke. Her detective skills were put to use throughout their conversation. Every now and then, the Holmes girl’s face would morph in thought but her words were saved in a little pouch until Y/n would wait for her opinion.

“Why would you think that?” Her tone held genuine curiosity but the question also helped in getting more context.

“Look at the desk, Enola. The photos. They...see for yourself.”

Enol nodded and leaned forward, inspecting the variety of framed pictures her brother had placed on the surface. One of their family, one of him and Y/n, and then- Her eyes doubled in size, the small gasp telling Y/n she’d seen it.

“My cousin. Now, why would my husband keep pictures of Irene on his desk?”

“Perhaps they’re just really good...friends?” Enola couldn’t even believe the words that left her mouth. The disbelief put her at a loss for words, which was rare for Enola and her genius brother. The greater feeling was disappointment. Disappointment in her older brother for...whatever this situation was. “What else leads you to such a conclusion?”

“The fact that he couldn’t remember the difference in our names until only recently.”

“Explain, please.”

“Behind closed doors, he’d call me Irene or Adler, despite our names being different. In public, he’d refer to me as wife or something sweet, but when we were alone it was always the wrong name.”

This one had an explanation...if Enola’s theory was correct. She hoped with a strong passion that her brother only confused the two for reasons such as similarities in their faces. Then again, Y/n and Irene didn’t look as similar as siblings would.

“Does he still tend to mix your names?”

“No...not really...”

‘That’s a relief’, thought Enola. “Are you sure he wasn’t just confused?”

“By who he’s married to? Then yeah, he’s confused. Otherwise, he’s not. I...Do you think he married me out of pity?”

Enola choked on the air she’d inhaled, looking towards her sister in law with wide eyes once again. This time, Y/n had turned to face the girl, deep hurt sprawled across her features. Her brows were knitted and her eyes looked glossy- as if she would cry any moment. The tone of her question seemed to hold just as much sorrow as her e/c orbs, her voice even breaking near the end of her words.

“Y/n...”

“Enola. I’m...I’m serious. I don’t see why he would willingly marry me if he’s in love with my cousin. I want him to be happy but in order to do that, it would require me to be unhappy.”

“Are you happy? Like, truly happy?”

Y/n hesitated with her answer. “Somewhat.”

“Could you expand on that?”

“I’m happy with him...he’s the man of my dreams yet knowing he doesn’t belong to me only brings a cloud of hurt to my heart. I can’t live with a man who doesn’t truly love me.”

“Do you love him?” Enola already knew the answer. She’d seen the way Y/n looked at Sherlock, and the way Sherlock returned the look- however, her brother was a harder person to read. Perhaps she’d misread her older brother?

“Honestly? Yes. With all my heart. I’d die for him if it came to that,” she chuckled softly and thanked Enola for the handkerchief she’d passed after the first few tears spilt, “but what kind of wife would I be to hold him back from happiness?”

Unbeknownst to the two, who continued the debate, the man of the topic was standing behind the door. He sighed deeply and held a look of regret as he walked away.

“Darling?” His voice rang throughout the home. It echoed in silence for a moment before the sound of steps rushing down a staircase responded. “There you are. When did you get home?”

“About an hour ago... I took a bath whilst waiting for you.”

“About that...” He frowned. There was no way she was actually waiting for him. If she truly felt insecure about her role as his wife, she did an amazing job hiding it. A flaw and gift all the same. “We need to talk.”

Y/n’s posture adjusted, the smile upon her lips, undoubtedly forced, falling. “Is something wrong?”

“Please, Y/n. This can no longer be avoided.” He tilted his head towards the sofa and held his hand out to direct her. As they relocated from the spot beside the stairs to the cushions, Sherlock thought over the words he’d say. She watched her husband with furrowed brows laced with concern.

“Sherlock, what’s bothering you?”

Sherlock almost laughed. “Nothing. The question is, what’s bothering you, Y/n?” Her head moved from the confused tilt back to it’s natural upright position. Brows unfurrowing and body suddenly still, he knew he asked the right question.

“Whatever do you mean by that? I’m fine...”

“No, you’re not. You tell me that over and over...” he scoffed, “I’ve never thought about how good of an actress you are.”

“Thank you?”

“Tell me, Y/n. Why won’t you tell me? You’ll tell Enola but when I ask, you act like nothing in the world could bother you. As much as it warms my heart seeing you happy, knowing that it’s all an act is like a stab in it and its faux joy.”

She couldn’t tell if he was hurt or upset. The smile he held, full of astonishment and disbelief, did nothing to help her reading. No words came to her for a defense but he spared her wordlessness as he continued.

“I would’ve told you, Y/n.” He grabbed her hands, causing her to lift her eyes to his. “I would’ve told you the truth if you’d just asked.”

“What truth? That you’re in love with-”

“No. I’m not in love with her. That would be a lie. The truth is that I’m horrible at expressing emotion. The truth is that I thought you were shy. The truth is that I’m in love with you, but in fear that I’d drive you away, I chose to keep it to myself. The truth is that I had just as hard of a time admitting it to myself as you did unto yourself.”

Y/n’s bottom lip quivered with the threat to spill more liquified sadness from her eyes. The confession had certainly caught her off-guard. Sherlock’s palms met her cheeks softly, forcing her to meet his eyes again before he slowly leaned in. Their lips met and with that single kiss, they’d reconciled.

“So...you aren’t in love with her?” Y/n asked after they’d pulled away.

Sherlock let out a hearty chuckle as he shook his head. “No, Y/n, you just simply had a lack of proper facts.” Y/n began to giggle along.

“Perhaps I should leave the detective-ing to you and Enola.”

“Who’s to say our children won’t become detectives? They could use some of your acting as well.”

“So they could.”

#sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill x reader #henry sherlock x reader #henry holmes x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #imagine henry cavill #henry sherlock #henry!sherlock #henry!holmes #enola holmes #sherlock holmes imagine #x reader #reader insert #imagine #all readers #enola holmes reader insert #enola holmes imagine #zodiyack

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caker-baker · 3 years

Text

The Fall Guy

Ah, hell. Maybe the hero didn’t think this through. This was more of a myth than anything, if myth was the right word.

Or maybe it was just a pizza place and the hero was overthinking things.

Regardless, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Uh, hi.” The hero greeted the lanky cashier. “Can I get the hero’s special? I’m willing to pay extra.”

The cashier regarded this with a blink, then another, then finally, to finish off his grand display of emotion, he sighed.

“With or without the ‘save the day’ toppings?”

The hero scrambled to remember what to say. “With, please.”

Now with mild interest, the cashier leaned over. “Down that way, second door on your left.”

“Thank you.” The hero said with narrowed eyes.

Holy hell, that whole interaction felt like a strange dream that was a little too realistic. And that cashier was a bit too intrigued.

Jesus, their heart was beating in their ears at this point.

It could all be a lie, all of it, this could all be an intricate and carefully crafted lie told by a villain, made to lure in unsuspecting heroes to their deaths.

Too late now, their hand was already turning the handle.

Where the hero was expecting some small room that fit logistically with the rest of the joint, there were stairs.

No, they didn’t like this at all. But what was the choice, go down there, or go back outside?

Downstairs it was.

Surprisingly, it got lighter, and larger, a hard contrast to the ominous setting. And with the light came music. Something very upbeat, lots of drums and guitars, and loud.

With their final step, the hero was able to see the cause of the music, two large speakers attached to a phone.

They also got to see the apparent villain, sitting and humming along to the beat.

“Hello?”

The villain, who’s head snapped up, reached to turn down the music before turning around.

If the hero was unsure before, they definitely were unsure now. They couldn’t help being nervous as an oil stained face looked them up and down.

“I know you.” The villain finally said.

“You do?”

The villain hummed in thought. “You were the one involved in the bridge incident two weeks ago, yeah?”

A strange bout of pain overcame the hero.

“Yeah, that was me.”

“Well, no need to look all guilty about it.” The villain stood from their stool, still shielding whatever caused the oil on their face. “Everyone screws up. Is that why you want to leave?”

“No! I’m not running away from that, I’m running away from-”

“You’re getting away from the heroing part. I get it.” The villain reached behind them, grabbing measuring tape. “Mind if I get your measurements?”

“What for?”

“The decoy. Did whoever told you about this not tell you about how it works?” The villain spoke while they untangled the tape.

“No. I didn’t even know if this was real. I thought the cashier was just annoyed by me.”

“Yeah, Paul, he’s just judgy.” The villain stepped closer. “Step on this.”

The hero put a foot on one end of the measuring tape while the villain pulled the rest of it up to the top of the hero’s head.

“Thanks.”

The villain seemed fine in silence, the hero, however, felt like their whole being was vibrating with questions.

When the villain moved away, the hero felt themself breathe out heavily.

“You alright there?” The villain asked, turning away to write something down. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”

The hero chuckled awkwardly. “It wouldn’t be very heroic if I was, would it?”

Turning around again, the villain spoke. “Well, considering you won’t be a hero much longer, I won’t hold it against you.”

It all seemed to fall out of the hero at once, words carefully hidden away now in full sight.

“I didn’t even want to be a hero, then one day I was drafted. I don’t know how they found out what I could do, I never registered. All I wanted was to keep my head down, but suddenly I was out with the big leagues.”

Several creases had formed on the hero’s head.

“And then the tracking, oh, God, the tracking. I went out for fast food once without telling anyone, just for a moment of peace, and it was like the world imploded.”

The villain rested their chin in their hand, nodding emphatically every once in a while.

“You know there’s three days of training before they shove you into the world. They don’t care what you run into, as long as you defeat it. ‘Real heroes don’t run’ type bullshit. Ironically, that’s the most freedom we get, going up against something or someone three times our sizes.”

The villain turned their head to the side.

“And there’s a seminar on meeting foreign dignitaries! Meetings on how to address the general public, correct customs for different world leaders. Jesus, I don’t even get a choice on where I stay! I could be shipped off to Japan tomorrow.”

The hero stopped, their eyes glazing over with a strange numbness.

“Then I messed up, put on house arrest. God, that’s the happiest I’ve been in a while. Of course, I did have to beg to go and get ‘pizza’, even after the house arrest. That was the only downside, I guess.”

A beat.

“Are you finished?” The villain asked.

A brilliant scarlet color bloomed across the hero’s face. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

The villain waved them off. “Happens to nearly every one of my customers, sometimes the best therapy is just venting to the fall guy.”

“Fall guy?” The hero echoed, eyebrows furrowing.

That made the villain pause. “Yes? If this was all found out, who do you think would take the fall? Paul?” They laughed.

“Are you never, I don’t know, worried about being caught?”

The villain shrugged half heartedly. “Well, last time it happened, I just packed it up and moved. This time I had to make it pizza. Used to be donuts.” Their lips pursed. “I miss the donuts.”

The hero opened their mouth, then closed it again, trying to figure something out.

“What if-” Those weren’t quite the right words. “What happens if one of your, ah, customers gets loose lips, talks to the wrong person?”

“That, my dear hero, is a matter of trust. And it helps I am financially gifted, powerful. It’s a matter of who would last longer, and it will always be me.”

“I see.”

The villain leaned against their work table. “Hey, do me a favor.”

“Sure.”

“Can you portal something?”

The hero blinked, not expecting that. “Depends on what and how far.”

“Yourself, to a rendezvous point, say, oh, twenty six miles from here.”

The villain was grinning, waiting patiently for the hero to realize their plan.

“You use the heroes who come here, their powers to help them.” They concluded.

“While my decoys certainly do last quite a while, it’s not forever, and heroes often don’t realize the assets they have available. Speaking of, how come you haven’t tried it?”

The hero swallowed. “Portalling a living person is complicated.”

At that, the villain motioned with their hand, urging the hero to tell them what they weren’t saying.

“And,” the hero began. “my portals don’t like technology. The tracker in me could malfunction, electrocuting me before I get all the way through.”

“How did you learn that?” The villain asked, turning to scribble something down.

“The bridge incident was my first mistake as a hero, not a person.”

The villain let out a laugh. “Seems you’re just as morally gray as me.”

“It’s why I can’t be a hero.”

The villain smirked at the self righteousness of the hero, who probably didn’t even realize they were being self righteous.

“And the tracker,” the villain switched subjects. “standard GIM-14U?”

Wait, something wasn’t adding up here. There was something too certain, too familiar about the way it rolled off the villain’s tongue.

“How’d you know?”

The villain tensed, as if they hadn’t expected anyone to pick up in their certainty.

“My clientele often times have the same one.”

“And?” The hero prodded.

They could hear the villain mumble a curse under their breath.

“I used to have one. First prototype, in fact.”

Something else didn’t add up. The first GIM-14U came out several years ago, when the hero was a kid. The villain was barely older than the hero, maybe the same age. Why did the villain have one when it just came out?

It took a moment too long to realize. “You were the child prodigy, the one who vanished.”

The villain did a mock bow, their muscles relaxing slightly. “In the flesh, although technically, I’m M.I.A.”

“Oh, God. Now you-now you get other heroes out.” The hero almost laughed. “That’s genius, it’s the perfect payback, it’s-”

“What makes you think it’s payback? Maybe I just like helping people.” The villain had a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, oh, gosh. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed-”

The villain held up a hand. “It’s a little bit payback.”

A familiar shade of scarlet crept across the hero’s face, and the former prodigy decided they liked that.

“Now this part is the part most of my customers don’t like - waiting. Your decoy will most likely only take two months. In that time, you need to work on your portalling.” The villain made sure to hold the hero in their gaze. “I will contact you when and where to meet and set up the decoy. I already have your information.”

“How do you-”

“Door frame. Like a metal detector, but more precise. If you are registered on any system anywhere, I’ll know you.”

The hero had relief coming off them in waves. Two months, and all they had to do was practice some portals. And do some heroing, but they could manage.

“You know, you interrupt people a lot.” The tone was joking, and the hero was far too busy trying to contain a smile, there was no time for chiding.

“So I’ve been told.” The villain did smile. “Now, about my payment.”

“Right.” For a second, the hero fumbled around in their pockets, before pulling out a wad of cash.

The villain took it, and began counting the bills, their eyes getting wider.

“‘I’m willing to pay extra’ is just part of the code. You know that, don’t you?”

The hero shrugged. “Do you not want it?”

In the blink of an eye, the money was pocketed by the villain. “I didn’t say that. Pleasure doing business with you.”

The hero nodded, and turned on their heel, then stopped suddenly to ask one final question.

“If you know everyone from the door frame, why bother with the measuring ordeal?”

“Gets people to open up, relax a bit.”

Oh. That was sweet.

“You aren’t a bad person, are you?” Asked the hero.

“Hey now, don’t go telling everybody. My scary reputation could be ruined.”

The hero, a ghost of a smile on their lips, left, back up the stairs, through the pizza place.

Two months.

#snippet #short #writing #hero #villain #heroine #villainess #heroes #villains #heroes and villains #just in my drafts so #why not #hero x villain #not really a villain?

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

Text

Kill the Lights

Part 2: https://elysiadjarin.tumblr.com/post/647758084188602368/kill-the-lights

Warnings: implied discussion of threesome? I mean, it’s a symbiotic relationship, literally. Poly at the most, but we all know that’s what we’re here for.

3: Furthering Feelings

Eddie started as he heard a knock on the door. A little puzzled, he went to open it. His eyes widened as he saw her standing on the doorstep, a shy smile on her face.

“Hi there,” she greeted. “I hope it isn’t a bad time...”

“Oh, no, no, come on in,” he managed, swinging the door open and shuffling aside.

She stepped in, and he could practically feel Venom drooling in the back of his mind. He could smell the soft, sweet smell of her natural scent and her perfume, and it washed over him like it always did.

She turned back to him, holding a paper bag. “I wanted to come visit you both, but I also wanted to bring you this...” She handed him the bag. “I tried out a new recipe and remembered that Venom loves chocolate, so I figured he could give me an opinion on it?”

He peeked into the bag. “Wait, you made these?” He looked up at her.

She flushed. “Well, yeah,” she laughed. “I am a chef. I like to experiment once in a while.”

Give me.

Eddie hastily pulled it out, opening the neatly wrapped box. “Sorry, he’s- Uh- impatient.”

She tilted her head, smiling. “I’ll take that as a good sign.”

Venom’s head appeared over Eddie’s shoulder, and he opened his mouth to let his tongue flick out and grab a piece of the chocolate. Eddie grabbed one for himself. His eyes closed as he groaned, the taste of the sweet chocolate bursting on his tongue.

“This is... this is amazing,” he said, looking at her.

Her eyes lit up. “Really?” She clapped her hands.

It’s good. Venom gobbled another piece.

She laughed delightedly. “Success!” she cheered. “I’m so relieved you like it, both of you. I was worried the flavors were too strong.”

Venom extended his head toward her, getting close.

“Whoa- whoa Venom-“ Eddie reached out.

But as always, Rosemary didn’t even flinch, instead smiling brightly. “Hi Venom.” She reached out and gently placed the tips of her fingers on his cheek.

He growled, pushing his head further into her hand.

She laughed. “I’m so relieved you like it.”

Like you.

“I like you too, Venom.” She smiled at him.

Venom turned his head to Eddie. Eddie, tell her.

“Whoa, no, we talked about this,” Eddie hissed back, eyes flicking between Rosemary’s face and Venom’s.

“Tell me what?” Her head tilted.

Fine then. I will.

Before he could protest, Venom took over.

I stared up at Venom, his face a good few feet above me. Venom didn’t frighten me. He’d never hurt me, never seemed to want to. And something about him always made me wonder what it would feel like to just... sink into his organic matter. I swallowed back my feelings.

“Did you want to tell me something, Venom?” I asked, a little confused.

Venom stepped forward, his tongue flicking and head tilted. His large, milky eyes stared at me. Eddie’s a coward. He doesn’t want us to tell you.

“Tell me what?”

He took another step forward, but I didn’t flinch. We like you.

I blinked. “Um... thank you-? I like you too?” I responded. Though I’d always wished he meant a different way, I’d found out that Venom was always blunt about his likes and dislikes.

No. Venom closed the distance, reaching out.

My heart leaped into my mouth as his giant hands gently encased my waist. But I didn’t move, just letting the large alien do whatever he wanted.

His face loomed closer, until his forehead rested against mine. My hands found their way onto his forearms. His body seemed to almost suck me in, tendrils curling around my fingers. My breath hitched at the feeling.

Want you. If possible, his voice had deepened into a growl that echoed through my body. Love you. We want you to be ours.

I gasped. Head jerking up, I looked up at him, hope warring with fear. Did he... mean it?

“You... you like me?” I whispered.

Yes. Me and Eddie. Want you.

I closed my eyes and let the hope bloom. “Me? But I’m just... I’m just...”

Ours.

My fingers clenched. Venom’s organic matter started to curl around my waist, snake up my back, pulling me closer. My eyes fluttered closed as his mouth covered mine, moving across my lips. It felt strangely both warm yet cool, sending sparks skittering down my spine. His tongue flickered at the seam of my lips.

My lips parted almost automatically, and I muffled a gasp as his tongue slipped between my lips. My mind fuzzed, giddy. Everything about Venom felt so... safe. The way he was so much bigger than me yet molded around me, embraced me so fully. Even the kiss felt so different, so much more... intense.

I tugged away for air, chest heaving as I caught my breath. “Venom,” I breathed.

You like us? His eyes searched mine.

I managed to laugh a little. “Yes. Yes, Venom, I do. I like both you and Eddie,” I said shyly, smiling up at him.

Venom melted back enough to reveal Eddie’s head and torso, though his black matter still anchored us together by the legs and waist. Eddie stared at me.

“You do?” He sounded bewildered.

I tentatively reached up and touched his cheek. “I know it’s a little weird of me, but... I do. I’ve liked you for a while, Eddie. And Venom, too.”

“Then, you’ll... be our girlfriend?” he seemed to blurt. “Venom- I- we- have been c-crushing on you since the day we met. He won’t stop telling me to kiss you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, imagining it. “I would really like to be your girlfriend, Eddie, Venom,” I addressed both of them, smiling. “If you’re okay with me...”

Eddie bent. His mouth slid against mine, burning hot compared to Venom. Still, he felt just as safe, just as solid. His kiss was different, less possessive, more... hesitant. But as I shyly responded, the hesitancy seemed to slowly melt away.

It felt like a dream.

His mind fuzzed as he pulled away reluctantly. Her breath tasted so good.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted, staring down at her. “I... I can’t believe you’d date us.”

He’d long since accepted that Anne had moved on. He liked Dan well enough, and the man made Anne happy. His feelings for her had faded into memory.

But Rosemary... Rosemary was different.

She shook her head, cheeks flushed. “I’m not anyone special. I... I didn’t think you or Venom would ever think of me that way.”

“Why not?” he asked, genuinely baffled. “You’re- you’re gorgeous. And you’re smart, and your cooking is incredible. You accepted both of us, chose to be our friend. I mean, I’m just a journalist with a-“

A what? Venom growled.

He corrected. “A symbiote. A weird one. Two losers.”

Rosemary reached up and kissed his cheek. “Then we’ll be three losers together,” she said. “Besides, you helped save me that night. And both of you have protected me ever since then. You’ve helped me feel safe again.”

Eddie swallowed thickly. “We’re lucky.”

Rosemary blushed. “And I’m lucky too,” she murmured.

Eddie lost himself in her kiss.

I pulled away from Eddie, then smiled up at him. “I love both of you, but that chocolate needs to go in the fridge before it melts.” I gently patted his chest, then skimmed my fingers across Venom.

No. I’ll eat it.

I shrugged. “Sure, Ven. But I thought I’d... well, if you don’t mind, I figured I’d stay and make dinner-?”

Eddie buried his face in my shoulder. “Please stay,” he mumbled.

I reached up and buried my fingers in his hair. It didn’t feel half as rough as I thought it would, and I could feel him shudder a little.

“For dinner, or just stay?” I half-laughed.

His hands tightened. “Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll stay.” I kissed his forehead. “But if you want dinner, you might have to let me go so I can actually make it.”

He groaned in protest.

“Okay, okay, deal.” I patted his hair. “Let me make dinner, and after that I’ll get on the couch.”

Deal. Venom decided to make the decision.

I laughed at Eddie’s disgruntled face, then went to the kitchen. Draping my scarf over the back of a chair, I set up my phone and hummed, going to the fridge. Finding some ingredients, I hummed to the music I put on and familiarized myself with his kitchen.

“You know, Anne told me to date you. Both of you.”

Eddie grunted and dropped something. “What?”

“She’s the one who encouraged me, actually,” I admitted, cracking eggs into a bowl. “She... guessed I had a crush on you both.”

“I- I guess that’s... good?”

I nodded absently. “I’m just a bit surprised she figured out that I was crushing hard on Ven,” I said thoughtfully, tapping the wooden spoon against my lip as I turned on the burner. I turned to him, holding the pan. “I mean, you’d think it’d be unusual. No offense, Ven, but I’m pretty sure I’m one of the very few people in the world that would crush equally on you both.”

Eddie quirked a smile. “He says he doesn’t care.”

“I figured.” I turned back to the stove.

“I worried about it. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.” Eddie set something on the table. When I glanced back at him, he was staring at my scarf, fingers twisting nervously. “I mean, with Venom... it’s not like any relationship can just ignore him.”

“I guess I’m lucky, then.” I smiled. “I don’t have to choose, I can have both.”

“Venom, stop,” Eddie hissed behind me.

The eggs sizzled as I poured them into the pan, and I reached over to grab two plates. “Can you get the tots from the fridge, please, Eddie?”

He handed them over. “What are you making?” He peeked over my shoulder.

“Oh, you had the ingredients for omelette rice and bacon wrapped tots so I figured I’d just go with that.” I looked up at him. “Did you want something else?”

His eyes widened, but before he could say anything, Venom’s head darted out from his shoulder. I squirmed and giggled as his tongue licked across my cheek.

“Ven, that tickles! I take it you like that idea then-“

Yesssss. He hissed.

I kissed his head. “Sounds good, now let me actually not burn the eggs.”

Half an hour later I finished setting it all on the table. Eddie brought me a drink from the fridge, and we both sat down. Venom immediately launched off of Eddie’s shoulder to gobble down his plate of tots, while I smiled and took a bite of the omelette rice.

“This is so good,” Eddie said around a mouthful, tucking into the food as eagerly as Venom.

“I’m so glad.” I contentedly ate. After all, the greatest compliment a chef could receive was seeing people devour their food. I was no different.

Eddie loaded the dishwasher once we were done, and I went to go curl up on the couch. From what little Anne had said, Eddie had really taken an up in his life after settling into Venom’s presence and renewing friendship with her and Dan.

I sighed and grabbed a throw, pulling it over my legs and shivering slightly. Eddie came into the living room and shuffled over to the couch.

“Are you alright?”

I nodded. “I run cold,” I explained sheepishly.

He hesitated, glancing at me.

“Does Venom like... to cuddle?” I asked, curious.

He blinked. His eyes unfocused a little, listening to Venom. “No, it’s- it’s like hugging.”

I tilted my head. “I can show him.” I reached out my arms. “I’m a cuddler my friends always told me.”

Venom took over, and he hunched over me.

I laughed a little. “Okay, just... sit down, Ven.” I crawled into his lap, settling myself sideways and leaning into his chest. I pulled the blanket over our laps, then wrapped his arms around me. I snuggled into his chest, feeling his organic material begin to wrap around me in tendrils, making me sink into him a little.

This is... cuddling?

“Mmhm.” I nodded, then took his hand in my lap. His talons were long and pointed at the ends, and I laced them with mine. “I’m so tiny compared to you,” I laughed.

His fingers shrank a little, creating more of a glove around Eddie’s hand. Our fingers tangled together, and I hummed.

We like this. Venom’s head bent, his face barely brushing my hair.

I tilted my head up, leaning back against his huge arm. My nose bumped his face, and I smiled. His tongue flickered, his fangs bared. His breath washed over me, but I just closed my eyes and didn’t say anything as his tongue grazed my collar and flicked up my neck.

My noise of surprise was lost in his mouth as he abruptly kissed me, but I didn’t protest. Eddie’s fingers were clenching around mine, and I let my eyelashes flutter as Venom dragged his tongue across my lips.

I reached up with my other hand and cupped Venom’s cheek. His growl vibrated against my mouth and chest. I pulled away from the kiss, catching my breath.

“Ven, I do need to breathe, love,” I murmured.

He nuzzled me, a sort of purr rumbling through his chest. I melted at the sound, smiling.

“I’ve never heard you do that before,” I remarked, delighted.

He pulled back, head tilting a little.

“Don’t stop, I really liked it,” I pleaded.

His purr accompanied his eyes half-closing. I ran my fingers across his chest, feeling the odd texture. It felt more rubbery than slimy, but it had a sort of... pulse to it that made it so much more alive.

Ours. We will protect you.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Venom’s head darted down. I gasped but didn’t flinch when I felt his fangs prick at my neck. My head rolled to the side out of pure instinct, and I could feel him clearly needling a mark onto my shoulder. He let go, his tongue swiping over it as he purred.

Biting my lip, I pushed back the little prickle of pain. I supposed it made sense with him being a possessive being that he’d want to... mark me?

With one last nuzzle, Venom retreated his head to let Eddie have control of the talking, though his body still remained.

“Are you okay, Rose?” Eddie asked, eyes concerned.

“I’m fine, Eddie,” I reassured, smiling. “It’s just Venom.”

He blinked at the mark on my neck. “He did a number on you.” Reaching up, he brushed his fingers across it gently. “Does it hurt?”

I shook my head. “It just stung a little but it doesn’t hurt anymore. Really, it doesn’t bother me, Eddie, I promise.” I leaned into him comfortably.

“Ok. Ok, that’s... that’s good. Sorry about him.”

“Don’t be.” I ran my hand over his arm soothingly. Curiously, I looked up at him. “You know, it doesn’t bother me if you talk about Anne.”

He looked startled. “Wha-?”

“I noticed earlier, you looked uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to make it awkward, she’s a good friend.”

He sighed, leaning his forehead against mine. “You’re so perfect,” he muttered.

“Not perfect,” I protested. “I just know that both of you have moved on. I’m glad you’re both friends. I’d be sad if I weren’t friends with Anne and Dan.”

He leaned forward to gently brush a kiss to my lips. “I promise I only think about you. I’ve... thought about no one else for months.”

I could feel the blush rising. “I can’t say I’m not happy.”

Eddie stared down at her, just... drinking her in. How did he get so lucky? She liked both him and Venom equally, made them food, comforted them, even didn’t mind their being friends with Anne. And with Venom’s teeth marks on her shoulder...

Venom felt all too pleased about that in the back of his mind.

His breath shuddered a little at the feeling of her delicate fingers laced in his, her other hand pressed against their chest. She just felt so warm and fit perfectly in their arms. She hadn’t been wrong when she said she was tiny in comparison.

“I love you,” he blurted.

She blushed, but her smile lit up her eyes. “Love you too, Eddie. And Ven.”

Love her.

“He says he loves you too.” He pulled her a little closer.

She snuggled into him with a contented hum.

“Rose, does it...” He sighed, unable to push the thought from his mind. “Does my job bother you?”

She looked up at him with a confused blink. “Which one?”

It was his turn to be confused.

“Vigilante or Reporter.”

He had to snort a little, shaking his head. “Both, I guess.”

“No.” Her head tilted. “Should it?”

He glanced away guiltily. “I mean, I do tend to get wrapped up in work and obsess over things sometimes. I am a journalist.”

She laughed. “Sometimes I work a lot more too just because I enjoy it, Eddie. Besides, if you start to make me too lonely, Venom will bring you back to me. Right, Ven?”

She’s right.

He sighed. “He agrees.”

She smiled triumphantly. “Told you. But really, I’m proud of you for sticking up for what’s right. It’s how you met Venom. And how both of you saved me. It’s important to you.”

He wondered if she could get any more perfect.

She sighed wistfully, then. “Being selfish is one of my weaknesses,” she admitted. “I always want to just... I always think of my friends as being just my friends and no one else’s. I start to get possessive of their time with me, even though I know they have a life besides me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “And I wish I weren’t so worried about my job. I always get so stressed worrying that things need to be absolutely perfect.”

“But that’s just the way you are.” Eddie furrowed his eyebrows. “Pretty natural.”

She smiled. “Well, it’s something to work on.”

He and Venom agreed that they’d follow her on the journey. As long as they could be beside her.

#venom x reader #my writing #venom #we are venom #x reader #Eddie Brock #eddie Brock x reader #marvel #exophilia #alien

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

I was feeling angsty. Read at your own risk, there is very little comfort in this and a whole shit ton of hurt. Probably a bunch of emotional triggers, so seriously be careful guys.

—*—*—*—*—*

Liquid pain ran down her arm like poison, the slash in it burning hot and spreading it’s agony like an invisible waterfall inside her flesh. But she did not grip her bicep where the wound had been inflicted, her gaze blank as she forced herself to hide her turmoil behind glass eyes. Her brother’s snarling face was only inches in front of her own, his katana moving from her arm to her throat.

“Useless! To think we share any blood relation is humiliating!” He growled at her. She did not move, did not emote. Her blades fans, the weapon she was loved most, lay half-opened on the ground beside her. Abandoned. But she knew Damian’s sword would not kill her. Blood family was a bond that was not to be severed by murder unless ordered by Ra’s or justified by the murdered family member in question betraying the League. She had done nothing to betray the Shadows, and Ra’s would not waste time and energy, or the breath it would require, to order her death. Just as he would not waste the precious waters of the Pit to bring her back again. She would not die today, and she knew it.

Sure enough, it was only a few more insults in various languages before Damian Al-Ghul stepped back and scowled down at the blood on his blade. Her blood. “If you don’t even have the stomach for real combat, you do not belong here,” he spat.

“That is where we agree, Grandson,” Ra’s sharp voice echoed through the room, his beady eyes never once bothering to glance at his granddaughter. “Maria, you are hereby stripped of the name Al-Ghul. Banishment from the League is the only mercy you shall be granted for your dishonor on our blood. Be useful and use whatever is left of your mistake of a life to stay out of the League’s way. Shall I, Damian, or your mother ever see your face again, your burial will follow shortly after. Am I understood?”

“Yes Gr— yes, Ra’s Al-Ghul.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Maria Al-Ghul was seven years old when she was disowned and sent away from the League of Shadows without so much as a penny to her name. She was only allowed to take the change of clothes she carried, and one small backpack’s worth of items. Her mother— Talia— had watched vigilantly as she packed those items, assuring that Maria did not take anything of worth.

The girl traveled by foot, too small to get away with driving a vehicle. Unless she could manage to steal a motorbike— she knew how to adjust the seats and pedals on most models to accommodate her size. But she was far too far away from civilization for that.

She knew that most of the League expected her to die in the jungles that surrounded the temple. After all, there were ninjas scattered throughout it with strict orders to kill anyone who was not one of them. And Maria now fit that description.

But if there was one thing Maria knew better than anything else, it was how to hide. How to hide feelings, intentions, involuntary movements, or her whole body in almost any setting. She covered herself in mud, matted her hair with dirt and took off her shoes. Barefoot was always quieter, and her feet would be more sensitive to any change in terrain. She would have to move more slowly and be on the lookout for traps, ground litter that could harm her, or dangerous wildlife, but she would be much harder to track.

It took her a month, but she made it to her first Tibetan city alive and decently healthy. She begged for food for a day before snatching a child’s outfit off of some hanging laundry lines and stealing the first decent vehicle she found. It was an old moped, but it beat walking and was already built small. She made it work.

That was how she spent the majority of the next year. She traveled from town to town, stealing what she needed until she could earn money normally. She used that money to buy herself a fake identity, even if she had to use the skills she had hoped to never need again in order to afford it.

Marinette Shiwang was born when she was already eight years old.

It was only a year after her new identity was created when she bumped into a woman in a street market. That was nothing new, those places could get crowded. But when Marinette looked up and saw valuable bracelets and necklaces of gold and jade, she knew she needed at least one. The money she would get for it would have her living comfortably for a short while. So Marinette’s theft-experienced fingers darted out and unclasped one bracelet in a fluid movement. It took less than a second. She barely had the piece of jewelry in her hand before she started to take off, hoping to lose herself in the crowd.

But a small hand clamped around her shoulder, a sturdy thumb pressing against a very vulnerable spot right at the back of Marinette’s neck, at the base of her skull. A clear threat from somebody with experience.

The sweet voice that followed didn’t match the gesture at all.

“Oh, I need that back dear. It was a gift from my husband, you understand.”

Marinette did. She cared about survival more. The small girl twisted, knocking the hand away from her before it could do damage and darting down a side street. The woman followed. It took three hours, but Marinette decided she had finally lost her pursuer before slumping down in the tiny, closet-sized bedroom of her cheap apartment. Her eyes closed for only a second before the window opened, and the smell of newly-baked sesame buns filtered through.

It was the woman and a much taller, much more masculine man. He was practically a giant, reminding Marinette of a certain member of the League that she used to know. They were both smiling.

“My wife figured you would be more open to an exchange than just giving up the bracelet for free,” the man’s voice was deep and inviting. “You can eat as many buns as your stomach can handle, if you give it back.”

Marinette accepted. Mostly because of her fear for people who could track her to her home so easily, when she had been certain she had not been followed. The League has tuned her senses well, there was no way the couple had been close enough to see her when she made it to her apartment. Yet they were still there somehow. Then, it also had to do with the promise of food, and the heavenly smell of the food itself. And then, lastly, Marinette was tired. She didn’t like stealing, it was just a necessity. She would not hurt these people over a mere bracelet that she wished she didn’t have to take in the first place.

Useless, she thought. So much of a bleeding heart that she just gave up what could have paid for two months rent. Too soft to even protect herself. The Al-Ghuls has been right. She was a waste of space and time.

Marinette was ten years old when she became a Dupain-Cheng. Somehow, that strange, dangerous couple had become her new family. Not even she knew how. But she was grateful— they took her back to Paris with them and she didn’t have to worry about rent, or food, or money anymore.

She vowed, that day that she received her spacious attic bedroom, that she would repay them. She would make herself useful, for the first time in her life. She would stay out of their way, be the perfect most unobtrusive daughter ever. She would help in the bakery, keep a smile on her face so that they never doubted that they were doing a good job. So that they never wasted time worrying about her. She smiled, and laughed, and became successful for them. Competent and reliable even though her memories would sink into her dreams every day and make it near impossible to drag herself out of bed in the mornings.

And then, when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was thirteen, she was given a pair of magical earrings and a tiny fairy-god. And Tikki was thorough, at least. Diligent in her explanation. Marinette listened to every word, dread seeping in as she doubted her ability to carry out such an important task. Save a city? Defeat someone much more experienced and magically powerful than her?

Useless little Maria could never. Slightly less useless Marinette could never.

She was only ever meant to play a support role. Stay on the background and make everyone else shine, without ever succeeding in anything worth noting. That was who she was.

But then Tikki gave her the Warning. The catch that came with the Ladybug abilities, and Marinette felt the long-rusted determination in her begin to fire up again. Maybe she could be Ladybug. Maybe she could be useful, at least this once. At least for just this one scenario. She could fight and win the war against Hawkmoth, and that achievement alone could make her happy. Let her die knowing she did something worthwhile.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian Wayne was seventeen when he and his family found out about the Paris Situation, and immediately went over to offer help. Damian Wayne was seventeen when he watched Ladybug stumble at the sight of him, and immediately run away. But the two of them were twins, and though twin telepathy might be a myth they always did have a certain instinct when it came to one another.

Damian Wayne was Seventeen when he said, aloud on the top of a random Parisian building and surrounded by his family—

“My sister is Ladybug.”

Damian didn’t wait for their reactions, having entirely forgotten about the existence of his father and brothers, before taking off after his spotted sibling.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I knew you were alive.”

In hindsight, those probably weren’t the best words for him to say when Maria clearly thought he was still an assassin.

Damian watched as Marinette spun to face him, her face so much more expressive than he remembered. He could actually see the resignation in the slump in her shoulders, he could feel the fear in her bluebell eyes. The eyes she was lucky enough to get from their father while he was cursed with their mother’s green irises. He used to envy that about her, especially after joining the BatClan. But now he only felt comfort when he looked into her eyes. Comfort that she was different than him, and always had been. In the best of ways.

He watched as his sister was enveloped by a bright flash of pink light, detransforming right in front of him. And without the mask, it was impossible to ignore the relation between them. She had their father’s eyes and nose where he had their mother’s, but other than that they were almost carbon copies of one another. Her blue-black hair was pulled back into twin braids though, something he noted distantly as oddly fitting. They suited her, he thought.

But all those thoughts instantly turned to dust as she dropped to her knees in front of him, head bowed in complete submission.

“Tom and Sabine are innocent,” she told him. “They adopted me out of nothing but goodwill, and they have been nothing but good to me. I never told them a single word about my origin, I swear it on our blood. They think I am just an orphan that was abandoned in Hong Kong—“

“Maria—“

“—so please, don’t harm them. I’m begging you. And there is no need for you to waste energy killing me. You are welcome to stay in Paris as long as no harm comes to Tom and Sabine, but just wait and watch. I know who Hawkmoth is, and our final plan is almost ready. I’ll have him taken down by next week. Just— wait until then, please. My death will take care of itself afterwards, but Paris deserves to be free, and killing me now will set this entire war against Hawkmoth back by at least a year. And I also need that time to pick my successor—“

“Maria! I am not here to kill you!” Damian had to yell to get her to stop babbling and begging. She froze, but didn’t dare to sit up or even raise her head. So Damian took the initiative and sat down on the ground with her, though he kept his distance so that he didn’t scare her too badly. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction, it had been ten years since they had seen one another and their parting hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

But he had changed a lot since then, matured a lot.

“I am completely disconnected from the League,” he admitted. Of the blurry memories he had of her, he did remember that being blunt was the best way to handle information with her. Beating around the bush had always done nothing but make her exceptionally nervous and jittery. Sure enough, his admission was enough to make her look up at him with disbelieving eyes. He risked a small grin. “I didn’t come in my old uniform, did I?” He gestured to himself in the bright Robin colors. Sure enough, Marinette’s rapid blinking proved his theory that she hadn’t even registered his clothing at all to be true. She had run as soon as she recognized his face.

But Marinette did not speak. She sat up a little, still eyeing him cautiously. But her silence helped him finally realize where they were— where she had led him.

The sounds of traffic and other big city noises were all muted, as if muffled by several layers of cloth. Shadows fell over them abundantly, and they were surrounded by dilapidated concrete walls.

She had brought him to an abandoned area far from any activity, where a body would take ages to find. She had then disarmed herself of her only weapon, her magic suit, and had gotten on the ground in total submission.

She had purposely given him the perfect setting to kill her, where there would be no witnesses and plenty of time before her body would be found for him to escape. That realization hit Damian square the chest, leaving him breathless for a moment.

“I am not here to kill anybody,” he reiterated, his voice noticeably much gentler than before. “Not you, not you adoptive parents, nobody. I left the league when I was eleven. Mother—“ he took a breath, but Maria deserved to know. “— she cloned me. Her clone killed me. He no longer exists, but that is of no consequence. She killed me, she and Grandfather disowned me when I made it clear I was not returning. Father— our father,” he was insistent as he leaned forward, not continuing until she met his gaze. “You remember who our father is, right? Bruce Wayne? Mother had dropped me off to be raised with him when I was ten, but of course it was all just one of her plots. It was her miscalculation though, because I ended up growing close to them. To Father and his adopted children. You would get along with Gra— with Dick, the best I think. Although T— Jason would also be a prime contender as your favorite brother, I think. He shares your love of motor bikes, if that hasn’t changed?” She just stared at him, clearly confused and experiencing a lot of feelings at once. He stayed silent for a moment to allow her to sort through them a little.

“I’m Robin now,” he made his voice quieter, but still easy for her to hear. “I’m a member of the Bats. I’m sure they would all welcome you, if you chose to meet them. Though be warned, they can be quite in—“

“Why are you doing this?” Marinette’s voice was barely above a whisper, Damian almost didn’t hear her. But he did, and fell silent. He watched as his sister licked her lips and tried to find the right words to say. “If what you say is true… you have a perfectly good family. Brothers, Father, a comfortable life. Why follow me then? Why offer me… any of that?”

Damian frowned. He didn’t remember Maria being so gloomy, but then again she had been raised to never show her emotions. Maybe, after years away from the temple like him, her true feelings were just easier for him to see now. Closer to the surface.

“I want to get to know you— to get to know my sister, again,” he told her. “Don’t tell them, but Father and the others have taught me to appreciate family. The way I treated you when we were children was not right, and though it was heavily influenced by Mother and Grandfather, I want to make up for it nonetheless. Maybe we can get to know the new us, together?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide with disbelief, but then she clenched her jaw and shook her head.

“We can’t.”

“... right, I understand if you do not forgive me. I didn’t even consider—“

“It isn’t that,” Marinette was quick to correct him. “When I said that my death will handle itself, I mean it, Damian. The Ladybug… the earrings that give me my powers, come with a price,” she absently ran her fingertips over the unassuming black studs in her ears. “If a Ladybug uses the miraculous for more than three years, the powers of Creation will demand to be balanced. Already, the Miraculous is powering itself on nothing but my life force now. Once I defeat Hawkmoth, there will be no need for Ladybug anymore. The moment I take the earrings off, they will cease keeping me alive.”

Damian’s face fell. No— no, that wasn’t right. He was finally able to find her, finally able to apologize and try to fix his past mistakes. This couldn’t be how the reunion went. This couldn’t—

“Not even the Lazarus Pits can bring me back from a Miraculous death,” Marinette went on. “So you and your family should go. You don’t need to be here when I—“ Marinette paused, gasping. “Damian, why are you crying?! Stop that!” Her voice became desperate, Marinette crawling over to him as quickly as she could and wiping away his tears as if they were something terrifying. Damian wasn’t sobbing or making any noise, it was just a silent stream of tears running down both cheeks as he stared at her wordlessly.

“I…” he finally managed to choke out. “I wanted to make up for everything. I wanted for us to be twins again, together.”

Marinette paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know a magic user who can erase your memories of me,” she offered. “But you don’t have to feel guilty for anything. You never said anything that wasn’t true.”

Damian’s green eyes widened. He had said nothing but cruel things to her, that last year they spent together as children. Did she really believe all of that? Did he and their childhood really affect her self worth this severely and irreversibly?

“Maria—“

“My name is Marinette, actually,” she corrected him with a small smile. “I’m not Maria Al-Ghul anymore. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is actually useful, Damian. I can actually do things right— I’m doing something right right now. Beating Hawkmoth will be the first worthwhile thing I’ve ever done, don’t you see? Once it’s all over, I will have brought honor back to our blood. I’ll have proved to you that I really am your twin, that I wasn’t a mistake. That I was born for a reason,” Marinette’s eyes got dreamy even as Damian just felt like he was impaled again, this time by a spike of ice rather than a sword. “And I’ll be able to die before I ruin it. It’s a perfect scenario.”

“A perfect scenario implies that nothing important is going to be lost,” Damian breathed. Marinette just blinked.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the plan. Defeat Hawkmoth, save Paris, and nobody dies.”

“But you’re going to die!” He growled. Marinette leaned back, bewildered by his violent reaction.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I actually matter. Nobody needs me. Tom and Sabine might be hurt for a while, but they will recover just fine. And it’s not like I have friends or any—“

“Stop worrying about other people, damnit!” Damian surged forward, grabbing her shoulders hard enough to bruise and shaking her a little. “Even back then! Even when we were seven, you threw down your blades because you were more worried about hurting me than you were about how Grandfather would react, even though you knew he would be tempted to kill you for what he thought was cowardice! You never put yourself first, and it’s finally starting to piss me off!”

“Damian—“

“No, listen to me!” He shook her again, his tear stained cheeks only making his glare all the more potent as he stared right into her eyes. “You are alive, and your life matters! You were never worthless or useless, you just didn’t fit what our abusive situation wanted of you. They wanted a cold hearted killer, a tool they could use, and you were always too warm hearted and clever to fit either of those goals. But I did, I was the killer they were looking for and the pawn they wanted. If anything, that makes you better than I ever was! I was too young and naive to see it back then, but I’m trying to make up for it now. You are my sister, whether you go by Maria or Marinette, Al-Ghul or Wayne or Dupain-Cheng, I don’t give a damn! And so help me, even if I have to surgically attach those earrings to your skin, I am not letting you die before you gain at least a modicum of respect for yourself. Do you understand me?”

A wet sniffle met his ears, and he pulled Marinette in for a hug. She returned it weakly, sniveling and sobbing into his cape.

“D-d-Damian?”

“Yes, Shaqiqa?”

Another sniffle.

“I-is it really o-okay for me to stay with you?”

“Of course.”

“I-is… is it really oka-ay for… for me to live?”

Damian’s arms tightened around her. “Always. Always, always.”

Marinette buried her face into his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath.

“Th-then… I wanna try.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Not sorry. Ha 😎