#and i WILL come across like a manic stressed mess

[dilf-din]

Then I have a request if you don’t mind! Joel x fem. Reader is italian and is in the US on holiday when the outbreak happens. She meets Joel in Jackson, she’s in her 20s and helps the community by teaching kids/teens (also Ellie) foreign languages like Spanish and French.

Joel becomes interested in her even though their age difference. You decide the rest, whatever resonates!! Could you add a bit of fluff like a bathtub scene together after Joel had a stressful day and she’s the only thing to calm him down?

change whatever you think should be changed and would make the story better and if you have any triggers about my requests please tell me!

I hope you have a great day!

Here it is!! I hope you like what I did with her character!! I did make her just a little older just for language competency’s sake.

Bonus: tons of Joel and Ellie banter

WC: 2400

Warnings: none, Joel being a flustered old man

“Vecchio uomo.”

Joel’s eyebrows drew together in confusion as ellie cackled manically. “What in the hell are you sayin’?”

“Vecchio uomo,” she repeated more slowly, “It means old man in Italian,” she finished, bursting into another fit of giggles.

Joel rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips, “And where are you learnin’ Italian?”

“We have a new teacher! She grew up in Italy, she knows like so many languages,” she gushed slinging her backpack from her shoulder and onto the kitchen table. She fished a dog eared copy of the Catcher in the Rye out of the front pocket and grabbed an apple off the counter taking a crisp bite out of it. “Have you ever read this? That Holden guy’s real messed up,” she continued, mouth full. “I like him,” she finished with a smile going to flop across the couch and get lost in her novel.

A new teacher? Joel hadn’t heard of anyone new coming in lately. He’d have to ask Tommy at dinner tonight. They were supposed to join them tonight for Jonah’s second birthday. He continued putting the finishing touches on the wooden elephant he had carved for the occasion, adding two dots for eyes and curling a small smile at the base of the trunk. He sanded it down one more time then set it on the table satisfied.

Ellie was chasing Jonah around the living room while he cackled like only a kid can. Joel smiled over at her. He and Tommy sitting side by side on the couch drinking small glasses of bourbon.

“Hey,” Joel started, “Ellie said something about a new teacher today, did we get someone new in that I missed?”

Tommy’s boyish grin spread wide across his face, “Why are you askin’ me? Did she tell you she’s pretty?”

“What? No, I just didn’t know if it was someone new or someone else that volunteered,” he said, clearly annoyed at the implication.

“She showed up last week while you and I were out on patrol. Spent a while settlin’ in, I guess today was her first day at the school. She’s a real pretty thing,” he said with a cock of his head, finishing off the rest of his glass.

“I don’t care how pretty she is, I care that she’s teaching my kid how to make fun of me in another language,” Joel retorted.

Tommy tried to stifle a laugh but couldn’t.

Joel looked defeated and finished off the rest of his bourbon.

“Why don’t you go down there and give her a talkin’ to, big brother?” he teased.

Joel rolled his eyes once again and reverted his attention back to Ellie and Jonah. They were playing with the set of wooden animals Joel had made him. Ellie going over the sounds they made in an exaggerated voice drawing giggles from the little boy. His tight curls bouncing wildly when he threw his head back. His heart warmed at the sight of them, safe in the walls of Jackson, untouched by the horrors of the world.

Ellie burst through the door with the same vigor that she usually did. Dragging her muddied shoes across the carpet and drawing a sigh from Joel. “Shoes off by the door Ellie,” he reminded her.

“Oh shit, sorry,” she said backtracking to kick them off but doubling down on the set of muddy prints she had already left.

“What’d you learn at school today?” he asked as he diced some potatoes for supper. “Any new insults for your old man?”

“Nah not today, our language teacher started some French lessons with us, but it’s too frilly for me, doesn’t sound right when I say it. Are we going anywhere tonight? I wanna wash this rain out of my hair, but I’ll wait if we have to go out again.”

“Not tonight kiddo, you’re good to go,” he smiled as she rushed upstairs.

Italian and French? Joel had taken Spanish in high school, but that was a long time ago. He couldn’t imagine having that many languages rolling around in his head. That new teacher must be smart as a whip.

They had stopped by the store to pick up a few items they needed around the house. Their washcloths were threadbare and they needed some more shampoo bars. Joel was piling the items into his arms listening to Ellie rattle on about the Catcher in the Rye when she suddenly interjected, “That’s her!”

“Who, what now?” Joel said trying to follow her gaze.

“That’s our new teacher. C’mon I’ll introduce you,” she said grabbing his arm and leading him across the store.

Joel’s heart jumped into his throat at the sight of you. Dark wavy hair framing a face with the prettiest features he might’ve ever seen. Dark, attentive eyes under thick lashes, skin that looked like it drank in the sun’s rays as a hobby, and a radiant smile. You looked to be in your thirties, but he couldn’t quite place it. You were smiling at Ellie as she must’ve been introducing you, your eyes locking with his.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you smiled extending a hand.

Joel shuffled the items he was holding around to free up his own hand and meet yours, it was as soft as sin. Tommy wasn’t kidding when he said you were pretty. “I’m Joel,” he said with a soft smile, “How’d you end up here?”

He listened to you talk hanging on every word. The lilt of your voice was intoxicating and he wanted to get drunk on every word falling from your tongue.

“My family was on vacation here the weekend of the outbreak. We lost my parents several years ago trying to journey between two QZs, it’s just me and my brother, Gio, now,” you explained, a hint of sadness in your voice.

“I’m sorry about your parents,” Joel said, reaching out to squeeze your hand. Your breath caught in your chest a little at the kind gesture. “We’re just up this road on the corner if you ever need anything, I’m real handy around the house,” he offered a small smile.

“Joel can fix ANYTHING,” Ellie rattled on, singing his praises.

“Well, we won’t keep ya here, let her finish her shoppin’ Ellie,” he said nudging her with the toe of his boot.

“See you on Monday!” Ellie chirped with a wave goodbye.

You smiled softly at Joel and mouthed “bye” as he retreated.

You watched the pair walked away and thanked the Lord that you had made it here safely into the company of so many kind people. Your hand still felt warm from his touch and you tried to shake the feeling. You had only been here a week, you didn’t need to be getting all these romantic ideas in your head.

Jackson had been a godsend to you and your brother. You had never settled in one place for longer than a few years. You learned at a very early age the nature of people, how they would feign loyalty then turn on you when someone or something they desired was as stake. You hadn’t made many allies over the past 25 years. So to be in a place where everyone was genuinely caring, they all worked together for the good of the whole, no one went without, you felt like you could finally breathe. When you offered to teach language at the school, you felt like it wasn’t much, but the parents and students alike were ecstatic. It was something new, something novel. You had taken a liking to the kids you worked with. Teaching the younger ones basic things like colors, numbers, and family members’ names.

You had also joined the group of women who made the weekly batches of soaps and shampoos for the townsfolk. As a child in Italy, you had spent many afternoons pouring candles and filling soap molds with your nonna. You were the youngest of the group, but they all welcomed you with open arms. They gossiped about the residents, but not in a mean way. More things like, “Tommy said they found an abandoned settlement on their last patrol, they’re going back to look for supplies later this week,” or, “Janet said the kids are going to put on a play in spring,” or, “I think Helen is pregnant.”

You were doing your best to piece together the people who lived there without seeming too nosy. You didn’t speak much as you worked except for to share different herbs and flowers you remembered your grandmother showing you and the remedies they provided. They drank in the knowledge and asked you an abundance of questions that you didn’t always have the answers to.

Your days stayed pretty busy as you tried to find your place in those wooden walls. It wasn’t until several weeks in that you started to notice all the things wrong with the little home you shared with your brother. The bannister was coming loose, the kitchen faucet had a slow leak, and the screen door was coming off its hinges. You had entertained the idea of borrowing some tools from your neighbor and doing it yourself, but this was one of your first days off, you had laundry to catch up on, and you were just tired. Tired from years of running. Tired from sleepless nights. So you decided to ask for help.

Joel was just coming down the stairs from a shower when he heard a small knock at the door. He had spent the morning at the stables getting the horses ready for patrol and had just gotten done cleaning up. His hair still slicked back, beard freshly trimmed. He was buckling his belt when he pulled the door open to see you there.

“Well hi,” he said shyly, “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

“I need some help,” you said with a mix of a smile and a grimace. “But if you’d rather do it another day, it’s nothing urgent!” you quickly explained.

“I’ve got time,” he smiled genuinely. “Let me just grab my tools,” he opened the door wider for you to step in.

“I’ll just be a second,” he said heading into what you assumed to be the kitchen.

You took a moment to look around. The frames that once held pictures of the family who lived there now filled with Polaroids of him and Ellie. The bottom shelf of the bookshelf was filled with board games. A sketchbook with a pencil tucked inside sat on the coffee table. Small pictures of their life together.

Joel re-emerged with a red tool case in hand. He sat at a kitchen chair to pull his boots on his feet, grimacing a little as he leaned forwards to tighten the laces.

“I brought a little bit of everything,” he explained, “But I can run back up here if we need anything more specific.”

“None of it should be too complicated,” you replied cheerily.

You didn’t share many words on the short walk down the dusty road. Just remarks about the weather and the produce that was coming in season. They were about to pick the last squash crop of the year, setting a good bit aside to freeze and add to soups later in the winter.

The first stop was the screen door on your porch. He actually kept a spare pair of hinges in with his tools that he was more than happy to give you. Taking the old rusted ones and swapping them for the new ones. He then made quick work of fixing the bannister, adding some new screws to anchor it back into the wall.

“Last stop is this leaky faucet,” you explained, leading him into the kitchen.

“I’ll have to get down and look underneath,” he explained stiffly lowering himself to the floor with another groan.

“You know,” he said from inside the old cabinet, “You taught my kid how to make fun of me.”

“What?” you asked in confusion.

“Ellie came home calling me an old man in Italian,” he chuckled.

You pressed your face into your hands with a groan, “That’s why she asked me how to say that, I’m sorry Joel,” you started.

He liked the way his name fell from your tongue.

“S’alright, it’s harmless,” he assured peeking out to send you a smile. “There, that should do it,” he said tossing his wrench on the floor and slowly easing himself up, the pain on his face evident.

You offered him a hand and he gladly took it. His fingers holding yours just a few moments longer than necessary.

“Back pain?” you asked.

“Just getting old,” he shrugged, “All the time I spend on those dang horses doesn’t help.”

“Hold on,” you said disappearing down the hall.

You came back holding a few bars of soap. “If you run these under the water and soak in the tub, it should help your sore muscles,” you explained, “Dried lavender and mint so you’ll smell nice too. Not that you smell bad,” you quickly tried to cover up.

Joel chuckled, “I know what you meant. Thank you darlin’, this is very kind of you.”

“Well it was kind of you to let me bother you on your day off.”

“You could never bother me, mean it,” his rough hands cradling yours. You felt your heart quicken at the touch, already longing for more when he pulled away with the soap in his grasp.

“Well, I should get goin’, I’ll think of you when I’m soaking,” he said, cheeks instantly flushing, “Well, not like that, I mean-“

“Please think of me,” you almost whispered, placing a hand on his bicep. You allowed your fingers to trace the contour of it under his flannel.

This time it was his breath that hitched.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and felt his mouth pull into a grin.

“Please don’t hesitate to come get me if you need anything else, I might’ve unscrewed your kitchen lightbulb just a bit so I have an excuse to come see ya again,” he said with a boyish grin.

“Joel Miller, you are cruel,” you said in mock outrage.

“Ciao, bello,” he waved in the best Italian accent he could muster. “Asked Ellie to teach me,” he winked.

You crossed your arms over your chest watching him from your doorway. A smile so big you couldn’t hide it if you tried.

This place got better every day.

#joel miller x reader #Joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller fic

[wardenred]

Sapphic September 9: Time Warp

Yet another free writing exercise, pretty much.

There's this one magical summer evening that is going to last forever. I go there every time I'm sad. Sometimes, I mess things up, but that's fine. I can always come back again and fix things. As long as that time distortion behind the old oak tree exists, nothing can stop me.

* * *

On that evening, we keep meeting for the first time, Erin and I. Every time I step around the oak and open my eyes, I'm seventeen again, and so is she. She is sitting on a bench between two blooming bird cherries, her legs stretched out, her guitar case propped against her thigh. In her hands, there's that phone that now looks ancient to me, a glossy red thing with a flip screen and actual buttons. She's poking at it, a small frown creasing her brow. She is beautiful. 

Then she looks up and sees me, and her frown turns into a tiny surprised smile, and I fall in love at the first glance all over again.

* * *

I like visiting that evening when we fight. It doesn't happen often, mind you, but sometimes, things get out of hand, you know? Our friends think we're this super solid ride or die couple, but once you've been together for a decade and a half, stuff tends to amass. Little grievances, silly hurts. Sometimes, life gets stressful and we unload all of that on top of each other, and then I cry, and Erin sulks, and we stick to the different parts of the house for a while.

Sooner or later, I head off to the park and walk around the tree. In the past, everything is simple and sunny and we have no history yet. Only a big, bright, everything-is-possible-and-nothing-hurts future.

* * *

Sometimes when I'm in the past, I try out different things. I wear fake personalities like gloves: one time I'm a manic pixie dream girl, another time I'm an aloof goth princess. I flirt more than I would have known how at seventeen—and frankly more than I would these days, too. I call Erin by her name before she introduces herself. I tell her I'm from the future. I tell her I'm her soulmate. I do all sorts of crazy things.

About half of the time, I end up having fun. We end up having fun. We laugh together, we stay out after dark, we explore the city. Some of those starts feel even better than the real one. But when I come back around the oak, my present life is never the way I left it. My keys don't match my locks. I can't get into my own phone. The barista at the coffee shop across the street doesn't recognize me.

There is no Erin.

It's like there was only ever one way for us to click for life. It was a miracle, really, how we drew that single lucky ticket on the first try.

So most of the time, I simply reenact our original first meeting. Over and over. Over and over.

She looks up at me and smiles. I duck my head and remember how I asked myself why I blushed. I ask her for the time. She asks me why I'm soaking wet. I tell her I just jumped into the fountain. She asks, "No shit?" I shrug. She asks me why. I lie to her and tell her it was on a dare, and then I spin a tale about some friend who pushed me to do it.

This is the part I most wish I could change. That friend, you see, is imaginary. There was no dare. I only jumped because I wanted to see what drowning would be like. If that was something I might like. I had this notion that maybe it would feel nice, like letting go, and that maybe I would stay under until everything was over. I didn't want to die, but I didn't not want it.

I was seventeen and slightly unhinged. My life was drama. Don't sue.

Anyway, I came up for air in under a minute. And then I met Erin and dying was the last thing on my mind.

But that's the one lie I've told her and never cleared up: that I was there with some friend who was visiting from another town, that it was my friend's idea. Back when everything was still new and nebulous, I wanted to tell her the truth but I didn't know how. And then when things got more solid, more real—well. I knew even less. Because by then, my non-existent friend Tricia was kind of a fixture in our lives. I kept mentioning her. It seemed like a good idea. Erin asked questions. Tricia got a life. A personality. Then moved to Australia to explain why she never visited.

We still bring Tricia up sometimes, even though she and I have officially lost touch. Just the other day when we were celebrating our anniversary Erin said how strange it was she never got to meet the person who'd essentially brought us together.

So, yeah. This is my least favorite part. The one I've most often tried to tweak behind the oak. But every time I tell her the truth, I come back home and my life has no Erin in it.

* * *

What does it say about us that our one lucky ticket is made of lies?

I don't know. When I think about it too hard, we end up arguing. Like this morning.

I guess I'm going around the oak later today.

#warden's random scribbles #sapphic september 2023 #sapphicsept2023 #writeblr #writblr #my writing #writers on tumblr #original fiction #flash fiction #sapphic #time travel #time warp

[dawittiest]

how to convey “oh im not nervous my hands just sometimes shake like That” without sounding like a lunatic

#my hands WILL shake at most inopportune moments #and i WILL come across like a manic stressed mess #jfc #archives

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 11:

“So, what, you’ve just known about your soulmate for over a week? And you didn’t tell me!” Your best friend huffs, slouching into the booth across from you. 

The café you had decided to meet Selene in seemed abnormally loud today, but even through the noise you could hear her frustration. And you understood it too- she’d been listening to you fantasize about your soulmate for years now, so much so that it must have gotten annoying. But she listened anyway, and apparently you repaid that favor by not even telling her when your tattoo appeared, nor when you actually met him. 

You couldn’t help it though. As much as you wanted to gush about it to everyone, another part of you wanted to keep it a secret. You didn’t wanna share Bakugou yet, as selfish and ridiculous as that sounded.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry; but honestly, it was just super surreal. Like I didn’t know how to talk about it.” You meet her eyes, grateful to see that even through her frustration, Selene still just looked happy for you. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Had to give you a little shit, but really I’m excited for you.” She takes a sip of her drink, leaning forward on your elbows. “Can I see the tattoo?”

You pale.

It really was an ugly tattoo. Messy and scribbly and poorly drawn, and odd even  as far as soulmate tattoos go. Every other person you’d known with a soulmate tattoo - which, granted, wasn’t many- had a name. Even your soulmate himself had your name! But you didn’t. You had his phone number, and no matter which way you thought about it, you couldn’t figure out why that was.

“Yeah, it’s uh, on my collarbone.” You unzipped your jacket, pulling it to the side to reveal the tattoo. 

“It’s- it’s, um, not what I expected.”

“That’s what I said. It showed up on my birthday,” You shrugged. “Wasn’t there the night before, but when I woke up it was just sitting there.”

“Why a phone number?” She questions, poking at the mark with a gentle finger. “And why does it look like-”

“Like that?” You chuckle, pushing her hands away and zipping your jacket up once more. “I have absolutely no idea. I’ve never seen anyone else with a phone number before; even Bakugou has my name.” 

“Um, who?” 

“His name’s Bakugou. My soulmate, I mean.”

“Wait- you talked to him? And you still didn’t tell me? You bitch!” Selene throws her head back, a laugh tumbling out of her lips. “I thought you’d just been hiding the tattoo, I didn’t know you were hiding him too!”

“Shut up- you’re being so loud!” 

“I can’t help it! This is just so exciting!”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Y/n,” You watched your friend straighten, a wicked smile crawling across her lips. “What’s that look about, huh, does somebody have a crush?”

You can feel you cheeks and ears flushing, but you don’t say anything. Selene just stares at you, wide manic grin across her face that just seems to make you blush even more. It’s a stalemate until she reaches across the table, poking at your red cheek. You break.

“God, fine, maybe- I don’t know, okay!” You huff, looking down to avoid her eyes. “We’ve talked like everyday since my tattoo came in, but I still feel like I don’t knowing anything about him!” 

“Huh-”

“He’s so, like, dodgy- about everything I ask him. It was like pulling teeth just to get his name! And it’s not even his full name! Just his last.” You pulled at your jacket, sinking into your seat. “Bakugou just like, avoids everything I ask him! I’ve told him about my quirk, and what I’m studying, but he won’t tell me anything! He just like gives me a two-word answer or calls me a name- which is fine, I actually find that part funny- but still. He gives me nothing. Absolutely fuck all nothing unless I literally beg for it!” 

“Woah, okay, breathe, Y/n. ” Selene holds a placating hand towards you. “Look, I’m sure he has his reasons. I mean, they’re probably shitty reasons since he’s like a 20 year old gu-”

“21.”

“Yeah, okay, since he’s 21, and definitely immature, but they’re still his reasons.”

“Who the fuck cares about reasons? I mean we’re literally soulmates. We’re gonna know everything about each other eventually, so I have no idea why he’s being so cagey! Actually, now that I think about it, it’s really kind of irritating!”

You gasp suddenly, not realizing how involved your rant had gotten. Apparently you were more upset than you realized, or at least significantly more annoyed.

You think back to how you felt yesterday- after you’d read Sunshine at the end of his text. You were light and airy and happy, but all of that seemed to have faded. God, what you wouldn’t give to feel like that now.

Selene waves a hand in front of your face, up and down in front of your eyes until you meet her gaze.

“I get that. I understand where that would come from, but all that really matters is whether or not you like talking to him- do you like talking to him?”

“Yes.” You say simply, surprised by how easy the conclusion was to come to. “I do.” 

“Then don’t stress, sweetie.” Selene pats your hand. “Tell me about the things you do like.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Your smile is small, timid, unsure, but you find the words come easy. “I like that he’s funny- and that he swears a lot. And that might be even more funny, because sometimes I’ll look at my texts and I swear it’s like there’s a 12 year old on the other end.” 

Selene just smiles, nodding to urge you on.

“I like that he gets super shy if I say anything nice to him- it’s like he freezes up and just swears everywhere and types in all caps.” You feel your cheeks heating up as you speak, but that doesn’t stop you. “I like that he’ll text me if I don’t text him- and that he responds fast when I do. And I like that he’s blunt- there’s less words for me to get anxious over that way.” 

“Alright. I’ve decided.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I like him for you.” She shrugs. “And I have good opinions so don’t argue.”

“But he still-”

“Yeah, I get it. But at the end of the day he’s still your soulmate, right?” She leans forward, tapping your forehead. “So stop overthinking it. You wouldn’t have that tattoo if he wasn’t supposed to be good for you.”

“Yeah.” You feel the sudden urge to hug her, overcome with yet another reason why you loved her so much. “I was being sort of ridiculous wasn’t I?”

“No, not ridiculous. It’s a valid complaint.”  

You nod.

“He does need to start telling you more, especially if you’re already telling him about you.” Selene brushes her hair back with an errant hand. “But I also think you tend to fixate on reasons to leave instead of looking for reasons to stay- and I’m not gonna let you do that this time.” 

You just look up at her, finding nothing but Selene’s gentle smile. 

It hits you then that she’s right. You did always search for the bad instead of making your own good. With relationships. With friendships. Even with school- but she was right. You couldn’t do that this time. It wouldn’t just affect you, it’d affect Bakugou too. 

“Hey, I love you, you know?” You suddenly tell her.

“I know. You’re my ride or die, bitch, of course you do.” She laughs. “Now c’mon, lets go actually order, and you can let me read through all those texts you were talking about.”  

“No!” 

She just laughs, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the register.

--/--

Later that night you’re sitting with your phone in hand, nerves making a tangled mess of your insides.

You were stalling.

There was a part of you, a big part of you that just wanted to ask him. Ask him about his full name, and his quirk, and his job, or his school if that’s where he was- about his life, and just not take no for an answer. Wanted to needle and pry and be annoying until you had one fact about him to match every one you’d already given him about yourself.

But there was another part of you too. Another part that wanted to see him call you Sunshine and keep him happy instead of possibly irritating him. And that part was screaming just as loud.

You groaned, setting your phone down once again, and rolling onto your side. Your eyes caught on to the TV. You’d switched it on earlier, hoping the background noise of the local news could help settle your nerves, but it didn’t work. As of now though, you were quickly held captive by the footage you saw.

On screen was a recap of a battle that had occurred a few days ago- and it didn’t look good. The villian was terrifying; a black, oozing mass of tar that seemed to swallow people and objects whole. It was running a rampage through the city, it’s undeniable strength completely unchallenged by the police force- until suddenly? An explosion. Multiple explosions. Big, loud, noisy explosions and chaos and bright light until the villain was shot clean through with a grenade blast. The villain fell, engulfed by a cloud of smoke and debris.

You watched as the smoke cleared from the camera footage, only seeing the vaguest outline of a man before they were jetting offscreen by the force of their own explosions. 

“Burgeoning pro-hero Dynamite yet again saving the day, and then quickly leaving the scene.” The newscaster announced, voice drowning out the sound of the disaster footage. 

The scene switches as the fight recap footage ends. The usual roundtable of reporters is shown instead, and they quickly begin discussing the fight.

“It’s not altogether surprising,” A woman says. “In fact, it’s almost better if he leaves, don’t you think? I mean, surely no one’s forgotten what happened in Hosu right?”

Another reporter winces. “Yep, definitely not. Even a year out from the incident it’s still hard to see him in the same light as before.”

You shift on your bed, suddenly scared half to death by the loud sound of your phone hitting the floor. 

Fuck. 

Even after the quick break, you still couldn’t decide what to say to him. 

Luckily, he didn’t let you worry about that for much longer. 

#katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bnha fic #mha fic #bakugou soulmate textfic #bakugou soulmate au #mha soulmate au

[corpsehusband-simp]

Weight of the World

WARNING: This is a sensitive Fic that deals with depression, mentions of dark thoughts, punching a wall, and anxiety. It has a fluffy ending. 

A/N: Please put yourself first and don't read this fic if it will put you in any kind of dark place because of what is metions and please know that my DM’s are always open. Feel free to message me all hours of the day or night, I am always here to talk.

 Request: this is a touchy request so i understand if you are uncomfortable with writing it. it’s kinda a comfort/coping prompt but can you write corpse x reader where reader has been going through manic depression and just pushes everyone away and performs self destructive behavior, and corpse has to talk y/n out of su*icide? recently i’ve just.. been really going through it is all i can say. if you don’t wanna write it, totally understandable ❤️

Paring: Corpsex reader, Sykkuno x reader (best friends)

You rolled over in your bed as your phone rang, hiding yourself further into your covers. You woken up yesterday morning and your depression had hit you full force. You couldnt really put a finger on wheat caused your manic depressive episode but it was kicking your ass. It had been a while since you felt like this and you couldnt find the strength at the moment to pull yourself out of it and in doing so you were pushing away the person you loved the most. Corpse. The love of your life but you couldnt even answer his phone calls or texts. Instead you physically turned away from his caller ID, the last time you had talked to him was through a text yesterday telling him that you needed space and that was all.

The more you thought about it the angrier it made you, the angrier you became with yourself. As your mind slipped into darker, angrier thoughts your phone rang again but think time it was your best friend Sykkunos ring tone, Big booty bitches. 

Corpse must have called him. You thoguht before reluctantly picking up the phone, wiping tears from your face. “What Sykkuno”

“Oh uh h-hi y/n. I just wanted to uh call you and check up on you, you didnt come to the Among Us lobby yesterday.” You sighed.

“Im fine Sy.” Your tone was short and rough, you hated acting this way but you didnt want to pull anyone else down intot the slump that you were in.

“O-okay, well im here okay. Love you y/n/n”

“Yeah love you too sy. Never forget that.” and with that you hung up on him, tears running down your face again as your thoughts continued down a dark route.

CORPSE POV

Corpse was going out of his mind trying to figure out what was going on with you. After your text yesterday he had been battling his anxiety on wether or not he should oush the situation, corpse knew you depression could get back sometimes but he also understood sometimes people just needed space. So he turned to the only other person he could trust right now, Sykkuno.

“Hey buddy.”

“Oh hey corpse, whats goin on?” It made corpse smile to hear that at least sykkuno was still his normal cheerie self.

“I need a favor, I think y/n is having another episode butbut she wont answer my calls so I was wondering if you could try and call her for me. See if she answers.”

“Yeah of course man, but why dont you just go over there?” Corpse sighs.

“Im going to but I dont want to push ya know. Its- this is a touchy thing.” Sykkuno hums in agreement before hanging up. Corpse paces back and forth in his livingroom till Sykkuno calls back.

“Hey Corpse”

“Did she answer?” Sykkuno sighs.

“Yeah and she doesnt sound like shes doing very well.Im actually really really worried Corpse.” Before Sykkuno could even finish his sentence Corspe was grabbing his car keys and hoodie.

“Im heading over there now, Ill text you later with and update. Thank you for calling her.”

“Of course, just keep me updated.” Corpse faster than he ever had , it was a mirical he didnt get pulled over.

Please be okay, please be okay. He repeated in his mind over and over as he run up to your apartment door. He entered quietly and quickly, not even bothering to take his shoes off. You entire apartment was dark and eerily quiet but as he neared your bedroom he could hear your quiet cries coming from the bathroom. He knocks on the door and tires to open it but it was locked.

“Go away.” You cried with broke Corpses heart.

“Baby girl, please open the door.”

“NO please just go away!”

Your POV

You felt out of control as you cried so you puched and yelp in pain. Corpse wastes no time kicking in the door.

“Im sorry baby Ill fix that I promise.” He says quickly as he kneels down beside you. You didnt know if it was the suddenness of the door kicking in or him beig here or both but you broken down into even more of a crying mess on your bathroom floor. Corpse pulls you into his chest and you try to fight him off. 

“No leave me alone, go away!” He only held you tighter and closer.

“Y/N I’m not going anywhere. We made a promise to eachother remember? We promised to never leave eachother remember? Me and you together. Im promise to fight next to you. So please just breath and let me help baby please.” Eventually you stopped fighting against him and clung to him like your life depended on it, and in this moment you were positive it did. You didnt know how much time passed between that moment and when Corpse finally stood, holding you bridalstyle as he carried you to the room. You laid both you you down, never letting you leave his hold. As you laid there Corpse left sof kisses around your face and whispered sweet loving things to you.

“You are so strong Y/n” He ran his fingers through your hair and kissed your forehead. “You are beautiful and smart” Corpse kisses your temple. “You are worth every single breath you take, every single atom and molecule in this universe that you take up you are worthy of.” He gently lifts you chin so you were looking up at him with your red, puffy eyes. “A wise girl once told me, that I know it gets hard and feels like the weight of the world is one your shoulders but theres two of us now and you dont have to take the weight on alone.” You sniffle and look up at him.

“Hey I said that.” Your voice was weak and horse from crying.

“Yes baby girl, you did, and I hope you knoe its true. I am right here.”

“I dont want to burden you, I know you have some much on your plate already I dont want to throw my shit on there too.” He shakes his head and lays his forehead on yours. 

“You arent burdening me, the only thing that ever puts more stress on my plate is when you push me away because I cant help you when you do that.” You sniffle reaching up and brush your finger tips across his cheek. 

“Im so sorry I put you through this.” Tears started to well up in your eyes but Corpse qucikly wipes under them and peppers your forehead in kisses.

“Hey hey hey none of that baby. Alls well now. Im here now.”

“Thank you my love. You are my rock.’

“And you are mine”

✨Tumblr Taglist✨

@fuji175 @corbins-kinda-smart @locallolli @namjoons-crabssss @sadness-babee @reddeserths @eccedxntesi @mayempress  @shinyyoonie @amirahhiddleston @gamerjisoo @trying-to-be-nice-here @jinexedanxrchist @rensaor @yoongis-cumsock @devilishducky97 @mintchip17 @redperson58 @kutiesammyboo @caswinchester2000 @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @thoughtfullydopedragon @neville-longbottomsimp @danny-devitowo @chocolatecloudwinnerhoagie @notmewrongb1tch @moneybagmara @alxcru158 @whatinthyworld @ihavecommitmentissues @mayempress @tanya-sonigra @themeaningofstupid @heavenly3308 @nicetomeetyouamamber  @chileansoul-englishheart

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse fic #corpse husband x female reader #corpse husband imagine #youtubers fanfic #youtubers x reader #youtuber imagine

[hellimagines]

It’s Not Your Fault -- JJ Maybank

Masterlist

Summary: For the past three weeks you’ve noticed your boyfriend beginning to pull away from you without any explanation or clear reason. After voicing your concerns to him, JJ breaks down and confesses to you about his delivery trips to the Cameron House. 

Warnings: angst, hurt with lots of comfort, male sexual assault, victim denial of sexual assault, grooming

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: It took me a while to post this, but after all the thought, emotion, and personal experience I poured into this, I’m finally satisfied enough to publish it. Please heed the warnings since I know this sort of content can be triggering for some. *Edit* The formatting and tagging got messed up, so I’m sorry if this doesn’t show in certain tags or if it shows up multipule times.

When JJ and Pope bounded down the bank to meet up with you, John B., and Kie at the HMS Pogue, you noticed JJ’s hair was messier than usual and his blue bandana was tied snuggly around his neck. His grin was dirty, cocky, and full of more tongue than teeth as he made his way onto the boat alongside Pope. The blond fell into the seat beside you, carelessly throwing his arm over your shoulders, yet keeping it rested on the edge of the boat so only his fingertips were brushing your exposed collarbone. Instantly, an unfamiliar smell hit you, causing you to crinkle your nose in confusion and disgust; instead of the familiar smell of weed, dirt, ocean spray, and JJ’s cheap cologne, you were met with an overwhelming citrus and floral scent. As you tilted your head up to get a better look at JJ, you realized that the corner of his lip was turned up just the slightest, an indicator that JJ’s grin was really just a mask. You nudged your shoulder against him, breaking him out of whatever manic-trance he was starting to slip into. The dirty grin dropped as he looked down at you and was replaced with a soft smile once he saw your scrunched up face. The hand dangling over your shoulder moved up to run calloused knuckles over your cheekbone, while something sad crept into JJ’s blue eyes.

“Kooks give you boys any trouble?” you questioned, speaking to both JJ and Pope yet keeping your eyes locked with the boy beside you. 

Pope shook his head, “Nah, not this time. It’s too early for their rich-asses to be awake, let alone stirring for trouble.” You looked over at Pope as he spoke, cataloging how he looked just as he did when the two boys left this morning. He also wasn’t paying any special attention to JJ as he typically did whenever he was trying to keep one of JJ’s secrets from the others.

“Yeah, they don’t know what it’s like to try and get all your work done before noon during the summers,” JJ scoffed before giving a piece of your hair a playful tug. You scowled and swatted at his hand, which only made JJ laugh.

“Well,” John B. began as he steered the boat away from the bank, “now that we’re all free for the rest of the day, let’s get this boat on the road.”

--

As soon as John B. had found a deep, calm patch of water to settle the HMS, he was kicking off his shoes and diving in head-first. Typically, JJ would’ve already been on the back of the boat ready to flip into the water, but today he had remained in his spot beside you as Kie and Pope followed JB. The Pogues didn’t pay you two any mind as they splashed around with one another, swimming a few feet away from the boat to give you and JJ some space. JJ’s finger twirled around a stray strand of your hair absentmindedly, while his gaze rested unfocused on a spot in front of him.

“Hey,” you hummed, giving him another nudge. His blue eyes blinked hastily at the movement, jerking to look down at you. “What happened this morning?”

“What makes you think something happened?” he asked defensively as his body stiffened and his finger ceased its movement. Your eyebrows furrowed but you didn’t comment on the sudden hostility, realizing that you had accidentally backed him into a corner. 

“You just don’t seem like you’re completely here, that’s all. You were okay when you left this morning, even though it was the crackass of dawn, and I just want to make sure that Topper didn’t fuck around with you or anything,” you said gently, shifting in your spot so you could place your head on top of the arm that JJ still had resting on the edge of the boat. Your (e/c) eyes looked into JJ’s blue ones, watching as a multitude of different emotions flashed in his eyes and a small frown slipped onto his face. 

He ran his thumb across the bottom of your jaw, offering you a pensive look as he did so. “Yeah, I’m okay, I just…” he sighed deeply, “just had a difficult delivery today, that’s all. I promise I wasn’t jumped by a Kook or anything like that. You don’t have to worry ‘bout me, baby.” He gave you a pained smile and cupped your jaw. “You know I love you, right? And that I would never do anything to hurt you?”

You were taken back by his question, pulling away slightly so you could stare at him in confusion. “Of course, and I love you, too. What brought that up?”

“Nothing,” JJ shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the flash of guilt he was unable to hide. “I just wanted to make sure you knew how much I love you.” He paused for a while, staring down at you while cupping your face in both of his hands. His thumbs rested over your cheekbones and his pinkies laid just below your ears while he looked down at you. His eyes were searching for something, you could tell by the way they flicked across your features, but you couldn’t tell what he was hoping to find. “I’m sore from this morning, think I’m gonna stay on the boat for a while. Stay with me?” he asked with a pout before pushing your cheeks together to force your lips into an amusing pucker. 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics while nodding your head, unable to say anything as he squished your cheeks some more. JJ’s smile brightened at your muffled giggles as you looked up at him adoringly. He continued to pull your cheeks in different directions, and you eventually had to reach out and tickle beneath his arms to get him to let you go. Both of you were laughing loudly at this point as JJ retaliated by pinching your sides and pulling you closer to him, but an unexpected ripple against the boat caused you to lose your balance. JJ used his body to soften your fall as the two of you toppled to the deck floor, proceeding to laugh even as JJ let out an exaggerated oomph at the impact. The melancholy from earlier was all but forgotten as you were cradled against his chest, continuing to tickle and wrestle one another on top of the boat.

--

Over the next three weeks JJ had grown jumpier, but he seemed more skittish around you than anyone else. He had taken on more deliveries with Pope than expected, now doing 4-5 deliveries a week rather than the typical 2 or 3. His cash flow had increased by nearly $300 a week and you couldn’t deny that the flowers and pastries JJ had started to bring you were nice. However, the materialistic increase couldn’t hide the emotional and intimate decrease you had felt from your boyfriend recently. In the year that you and JJ had been dating, and even in the years of friendship beforehand, he had always valued actions over gifts. He would even sometimes prefer talking about what he was feeling rather than handing you something that had cost money. So, as JJ’s touches against your skin and words whispered into your ear became non-existent and his gift-giving became unmanageable, you knew something was going on: something he clearly didn’t want to talk to you about.

After not hearing from JJ in two days and knowing he wouldn’t be opening up to you anytime soon, you made your way over to Pope’s place in order to hopefully get some answers. Mr. Hayward was the one to open the door when you knocked, offering you a smile as you gave him one of your own. “Hey there, Mr. Hayward, I really like your shirt.”

He looked down at his shirt in confusion before huffing a laugh. “Thank you, (Y/N), it’s date night,” he grinned, tugging at the cotton fabric of his blue button-up. You heard the distinct sound of heels clicking against the floor before Mrs. Hayward rounded the corner. She jumped slightly when she saw you, not expecting to see anyone at the door, and then she smiled with a soft laugh. 

“Hi, (Y/N)! How are you, sweetheart?” she asked, coming to stand beside the door as Mr. Hayward went to grab the car keys.

“I’m doing okay, just came by to see if Pope needed any help with his summer homework. I know his AP classes were stressing him out a bit, so I offered to go over one of his essays with him. How about you? Your dress is really pretty, by the way.” 

Mrs. Hayward smiled at your compliment, giving her dark-red dress a bashful glance. “It’s date night, and I’ve been waiting to pop this baby out of the closet for months,” she chuckled, her bashful smile now becoming one of pride. “Pope is right upstairs in his room and I’m sure he’ll be really happy with the help.” You nodded with a smile and headed up to Pope’s room after waving goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Hayward. 

“Pope! Your mom let me in!” you shouted up the stairs as a warning before walking into your best friend’s room. Pope lifted his head from his desk at your entrance and gave you a gleeful grin. “I promise I’ll help you with your essay, but first I need your help with something,” you stated when you saw him beginning to reach for his essay. 

“Yeah, ‘course. What’s going on?” 

You took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of his bed. “It’s about JJ, but you can’t tell him I said anything.” Pope nodded and gave you his apt attention. “Ever since his delivery with you a few weeks ago, he’s been acting a little weird. I don’t know if anyone else has noticed it, but I have and I’m worried. He’s been wearing his bandana more, he almost never takes his shirt off for swimming or anything else, he doesn’t talk to me anymore, doesn’t touch me, but he’s been spending money on me. I know it sounds like unimportant tiny things, but to JJ they’re not. I’m really worried, Pope, and I was wondering if you knew if something was going on?”

“Nu-uh, he hasn’t said anything to me,” Pope frowned. “But I know he’s been taking longer with his deliveries than he used to, yet he’s making more cash. Do you think he’s worn out?” You couldn’t help but scoff at Pope’s words and shake your head. “What do you think it is?”

“I have no idea and that’s the problem. It’s not his dad and I can’t imagine him being overworked with the amount of energy he has. I don’t know what to do or how to help him and it scares me.”

Pope fell silent for a while, staring down at the ground with a pensive expression. “Listen,” he began with a sigh, “I know this isn’t something you want to hear or think of, and I don’t even believe it myself. But… but maybe he’s been seeing-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Pope Hayward. Don’t you dare,” you seethed, eyeing him with a dangerous look. “He wouldn’t do that, he’s not-”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Pope chanted and held up his hands. “Why don’t you go talk to him? You’ve always been the best out of anyone when it comes to getting JJ to open up.” 

You mulled over Pope’s words for a few moments, before giving a reluctant nod. “Sounds like my only option at this point; I just need to get him alone with me for more than five minutes,” you grumbled bitterly. “Anyway, now that we’ve covered the I-miss-my-boyfriend unit, let’s go over your essay, yeah?”

--

The next day was JJ’s day off and more than likely one of the only times you’d be able to sit down and talk with him. It was almost 6:30 in the morning when you arrived at John B’s place and you smiled softly when you saw him and JJ in the ocean. You left your shoes by The Chateau before heading down to the shoreline, waving to the two of them once they spotted you. JB waved his hand wildly in an attempt to get you in the water, but you simply shook your head and plopped down on the sand, waiting patiently for the two boys to finish their morning surf. While you waited, you laid down in the sand as the rising sun moved over you, enjoying the calm atmosphere and playful shouts of your boyfriend and best friend in the ocean. Water lapped at your feet and brought the occasional seashell to knock against your ankle, and your toes dug into the wet sand each time the water pulled away. When you felt the wind gently hit your bare legs and the waves began to slow down, you knew the boys would be making their way back to shore in the next few minutes. 

Eventually, the sound of feet splashing in the water drew closer and the anxiety in your gut began to grow as JJ and John B made their way back onto dry land. A shadow loomed over you, blocking the sun from hitting your face and causing you to squint open an eye to see who it was. JJ looked down at you with a smile, water dripping from his hair onto your exposed stomach. He carefully set his board to the side, giving John B a mindless wave as the other boy made his way back to The Chateau, before lowering himself down to you. His head rested on your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, and his legs shifted in the sand to wrap around your own. He was wet and smelt like saltwater and you could feel a piece of slimy seaweed tangled around his calf, but you buried your fingers in his messy hair and ran your hand over his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer to you. This was the closest you’d been to him in weeks and you had been terrified about forgetting the way his skin felt against yours; but as his hands gripped your waist and his lips rested against your collarbone and your nails scratched at his scalp and your fingers massaged his sore shoulders, everything felt okay. But, regardless of how right things felt again or how comfortable you were, you couldn’t just forget about the past three weeks knowing that it would all start again tomorrow. 

“Hey,” you whispered, tapping JJ’s shoulder blade. He hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t move a muscle. “I want to talk to you-” JJ stiffened against you, his grip tightening subconsciously, “-about the past few weeks. I know something’s been bothering you and I thought giving you space would help you work through it, but it hasn’t. You’ve only pulled away even more.” 

JJ remained stiff but his grip relaxed and he released a shaky breath. “I know.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on? Please? I love all the little treats, flowers, and gifts, but I miss you, JJ-- I miss this.” You tenderly ran your nails down his side and over his hip for emphasis. “I miss holding you and being held by you. I miss playing with your hair and rubbing your shoulders. I miss talking with you in the morning while floating on our boards or laying on the HMS Pogue. I miss finding seashells and comparing them to one another. I miss my boyfriend.” 

JJ inhaled sharply before curling against you and holding you tight, his face now buried in your chest in a desperate attempt to conceal his tears. His body shook and his muscles tensed as he fought to hold back a sob, and his hold on you was nearing painful. Your heart rate sped up as worry and anxiety took over, and you had to fight against JJ’s grip in order to sit up and pull him with you. Instantly he was digging the palm of his hands into his eyes and biting down on his bottom lip, with harsh and jagged breaths escaping from his nose too quickly. 

“Baby, stop it, you gotta let go,” you urged, tugging his lip from between his teeth to avoid it splitting (as it often had before whenever JJ tried not to cry). You forced yourself to regulate your racing heart before grabbing one of JJ’s hands and placing it over your chest. “I’m right here, you’re okay, you can cry, babe. I know it’s hard but it’s just me, I’m not going anywhere.”

JJ’s fingers curled against your skin, feeling your heart beat steadily against his palm. He dropped his other hand from his eye and blinked away the stars and black spots, but he kept his gaze on the spot where your knees touched. Tears fell freely from his eyes now, curving over his nose and getting caught between his lips. He let out a few choked sobs and harsh sniffles for a few minutes before slowly pulling his hand away from your chest once he calmed down. Instead of pulling completely away as you expected him to do, JJ placed his hand on your thigh and rubbed his thumb in mindless circles.

“I miss you too, princess, I miss you so fucking much. I’m sorry for pulling away and for not talking to you, but I didn’t… I don’t know how to talk about what’s going on. I want to tell you, I’ve wanted to since it started but…” JJ trailed off with an uneven sigh and shook his head. “I just need to get over it. It’s not that big of a deal, it happens to all sorts of people, I need to stop being a little bitch about it,” he seethed before slamming his fist into the sand beside him. 

You placed your hand on top of the one he had on your thigh and squeezed his wrist. “No, you don’t. You’re not a little bitch for caring about something and for being hurt. You can tell me, you know that I’m not going to judge you. Whatever is going on is hurting you and you don’t deserve to be hurt more than you already have been.”

“I don’t want you to break up with me. I don’t want to lose you,” JJ confessed in a broken voice. He looked up at you and you could finally see the anguish and guilt clouding his eyes as he continued to cry. “But I need to tell you, I can’t keep it inside anymore. So… so if you do want to break up, I understand,” he choked before furiously wiping at his eyes.

Your heart stuttered at the implication causing you to take a deep breath. “Just be honest, that’s all I ask. You don’t have to hide anything or alter the truth, okay?” JJ gave a small nod and squeezed your thigh.

“It first happened three weeks ago, when I was helping Pope with an early morning delivery. I was doing my last run to the Cameron’s, and usually I drop them off with Wheezie since she’s the only one ever awake. But that morning she was at a friend’s house or something, I guess, and instead, it was Rose who was there to grab the groceries. She uh, she had me follow her inside to the kitchen and started showing me where to put stuff away. And in my head, ya know, I’m thinkin’, ‘lady, this isn’t part of my job description’, but I don’t say anything because I need the cash. So I’m putting away her groceries and she’s lingering and saying these things about how strong I am and how she’s so glad I chose to help her, but I don’t think anything of it. But when I reach up to put away the cereal, my tank top rides up and she comes up behind me and puts her hands on my waist. I jump and almost knock down the entire cupboard, and I try to push her away but she just spins me around like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing. I’m telling her to stop, that I’ve got a girl, that I’m not interested, all this shit, but she doesn’t listen. She just keeps touching me, mainly my stomach and arms, and saying how she’s just appreciating ‘a hard-working young man’. I wanted to push her away and get the hell out of there, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fucking move. If I did push her away then that shit would’ve been turned on me so fast and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t breathe and all I kept thinking about was you and how I wanted her to stop. After she had her fill of feeling me up, she kissed my neck and handed me a hundred-dollar tip. Like… like I was her own personal whore or somethin’. I ran out of there so damn fast, and I tried rubbing off the lipstick but it was bright fucking red, so I had to wear my bandana around my neck all day. That morning wasn’t the only time, either, she’s been requesting me for every delivery. I wanted to say something, I wanted to tell you but I… I was scared. I’m a guy, this shit doesn’t happen to guys. I should’ve pushed her away, I should’ve fought back, I should’ve done more but instead, I just fucking stood there. I’ve been cheating on you because I was too much of a pussy to push her away.”

“You haven’t been cheating on me,” you said instantly, letting the impact of JJ’s story wash over you. His head snapped up and his brows furrowed as he looked at you. He opened his mouth to argue, but you shook your head. “You told her to stop. She’s in her thirties and you’re sixteen. She holds power and authority over you, and if you physically pushed her away things would have gotten much worse. You didn’t ask for her to touch you or kiss you or give you more money than you were owed. Rose sexually assaulted you, and that isn’t your fault, JJ. None of what happened is your fault.” Your voice was gentle but your words were firm and you held onto JJ’s hand as you spoke. 

“I did cheat on you, I let another woman-”

You interrupted him, “You didn’t let her do anything. She forced herself onto you and put you in a position where she knew you wouldn’t be able to fight back or deny her. You were forced into being complacent, and that’s not your fault. You’re right, this does happen all the time, but just because you’re a guy that doesn’t make it unimportant or invalid. You didn’t cheat on me, and I’m not breaking up with you. I’m going to help you work through this.”

JJ shook his head violently and tore his hand from your grasp. He stood up on weak legs and paced beside you, tugging harshly at his hair. “No, no, I wasn’t sexually assaulted. I’m strong, I’m a guy, I could’ve pushed her away easily, but I didn’t. I didn’t fight back and I didn’t tell you for three weeks! You shouldn’t be holding my hand, you should be screaming at me and hitting me and breaking up with me!” he ranted in hysterics, continuing to pace and tug at his hair.

Your heart ached at your boyfriend’s words and you had to blink away your own tears. You moved yourself to your knees before reaching out and grabbing ahold of JJ’s ankle, forcing him to stop moving and look down at you. “What if it was me?”

“What? What if what was you?” 

“What if I had helped Pope with the deliveries and Ward Cameron touched me while I was putting away his groceries? What if he had me backed against a counter and was touching my waist and kissing my neck? What if I begged him to stop, told him I wasn’t interested, told him I had a boyfriend, and told him no multiple times? What if he didn’t listen to me and kept touching me, even though I told him no? Everyone on this island knows I can fight just as hard, if not harder, than any man. But what if I couldn’t fight back? What if I punched him and lost everything? Mr. Hayward could lose his business, Pope could lose his scholarship, and I could get thrown in jail; because the Cameron’s have money and they have power and I don’t. So, what if I was touched by an older man repeatedly, against my will, even after I begged him to stop? Would it have been my fault? Would I be weak because it happened? Would you break up with me?” 

You looked up at JJ and his breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in understanding. His knees buckled and you were quick to grab ahold of his waist and carefully help him back to the ground. Once he was safely seated, he reached out and grabbed your hands, pulling you closer to him until you were straddling his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist and he tucked his head into your neck, holding you close to him. You could feel his body shaking despite the warm weather and his silent tears falling against your throat, but you remained silent as he worked through what you had said. You dutifully ran your hands through his hair, combing out the tangles with your fingers and giving soothing scratches against his scalp. JJ clung to you in silence for the next hour, and you had almost fallen asleep when you felt his arms loosen and his hands move to your waist. You pulled back to look down at him and saw him already looking up at you with red eyes and puffy cheeks. The anguish and guilt that had been swimming in his blue eyes the past few weeks no longer seemed to overtake the love and adoration they usually held when JJ looked at you. You cupped his cheeks between your hands and kissed him softly, smiling when you felt his thumbs rub your sides in appreciation.

“I love you,” JJ murmured against your lips before pulling back.

You kissed his forehead lovingly, “I love you too, babe. We’ll work through this, you’re not on your own anymore. I’ve got you, and I’ll make sure Rose Cameron doesn’t lay a hand on you again.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outerbanks #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks x reader #outer banks #obx

[the-sympathetic-villain]

Hello! I just saw your post about wanting remus prompts? Obvs no pressure but I cant get this out of my mind of the rat man..... BAKING

Yes... I need the rat man baking. This took me a bit because I’m really bad at writing short prompts but I like how it turned out! Originally, this was meant to be straight fluff but I couldn’t seem to get away from my personal headcanon that Remus stress bakes lol but its still mostly fluff with a little bit of vulnerability from the rat man <3

Cookies and Coping Mechanisms

Description: After SvSR, Remus knows that everyone is upset by the outcome of episode. His solution? Dragging a reluctant Virgil into the kitchen to make cookies.

Word Count: 1747

Characters: Remus, Virgil (Platonic Dukexiety)

Warnings: Remus-Type Content (Sexual innuendo, Allusions to Drugs, References to gore, etc.), Flirting, Swearing

---

    “Come on, Virgie. This'll be fun.”

    “Last time I heard that, you ended up on fire, Remus.” Virgil muttered as he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets, cast a cautious glance at the bouncing creative side.

    “You can't spell fun without fire!” Remus chirped happily.

     Virgil stopped in his tracks, looking up in disbelief. “Yes, you can—”

     “Not if you actually want to have fun, Gerard Gay.” Remus threw out over his shoulder as he continued his manic dive into the cupboards. Metal pans flew up to the countertop as Remus swung around to throw open another drawer with a loud clang.

    Virgil growled. His eyes darkened with exasperation as Remus tossed a bag of flour on the counter and a puff of white haze shot up into the air. “I'm so glad that Logan soundproofed the kitchen so you can as be as loud as you want.”

     “Hey, that was Roman's fault." Remus stopped digging through the fridge to point at Virgil. “He brought the firecrackers—”

     “You lit them!” Virgil threw his hands up in a gesture to the large scorch marks in front of the stove.

     “Irrelevant.” Remus purred with a playful grin. “Now preheat the oven for me, emo boy.”

    “To what?” Virgil muttered as he stalked toward the oven.

    “350 degrees, baby!”

    “Don’t call me baby.” Virgil sighed, barely looking up at the mess Remus was making as he danced around the kitchen. “I don't even know why we're doing this. Cookies can’t fix what happened.”

    “Well, it sure as hell can't hurt, Donnie Darko,” Remus winked, shooting finger guns at Virgil. “especially since we’re catering to each of them personally. Everyone can hate each other and all, but they can't hate cookies.”

    Virgil paused in confusion.  “You said we were making one batch of cookies, Remus. I didn't sign up for a whole day with—”

    “I never said we weren't. Just one batch is all we need.” Remus grinned with a teasing smile, taunting him to continue.

    “How can one batch of cookies cater to all of them?” Virgil wondered. “I mean I get Patton, but the others are a little harder to please.”

    “Don't you worry. I'll spill the beans,” Remus paused with a suggestive grin. “but first I need you to strip, Frightmare before Christmas.”

    Virgil let out an exaggerated sigh as he ducked his head to hide the redness in his cheeks. “Whatever fantasy your trying to get me play out, I won't—”

     “Lose the hoodie, Virge. Everything else is optional.” Remus interrupted, grinning suggestively as Virgil tipped his head up. “Unless—"

    “No.”

    “Fine,” Remus giggled as he gave in to Virgil. Before he walked away, he slipped a piece of paper across the table as Virgil slipped his jacket off and laid it off to the side. “It’s to get nice and toasty in here and I don’t need you looking like you just got off a sweet bender covered in a suspicious white powder when we go to deliver the goods.”

    “Okay—Okay! It’s off now.” Virgil through his hands up in exasperation as Remus wiggled his eyebrow up at him. “You can stop tormenting me.”

    “Great.” Remus cheered with a flourish of his hands as he tossed the flour at Virgil. He giggled as the bag erupted into a white puff all over Virgil, leaning into his friend’s scowl before returning to hopping about the kitchen. “Mix the dry ingredients and I'll start on the wet stuff.”

    “Great.” Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes as he straightened out his black tee and brushed the flour off himself. Reluctantly, he picked up the flour to begin as he looked up at Remus for explanation. “Now, tell me why you think this is going to make everything better.”

    “Well, Pattycake obviously loves homemade gifts—"

     “Patton is the easiest to please.” Virgil muttered as he measured the flour. “That's not an accomplishment.”

   “Yeah, well. All Roman wants is attention. The fact that we were thinking of him is enough to brighten his spirits,” Remus grinned as he started to whisk together his ingredients. “and the snake boy has a sweet tooth. He hates to admit it, but sugar is Janus’ comfort food.”

    Virgil paused. His eyes narrowed on Remus with skepticism in his eyes. “And what about Logan?”

     Remus’ grin widened as he swiped Virgil’s bowl and began combining the ingredients. “Well, we're making thumbprint cookies and—”

    “—and thumbprint cookies require jam.” Virgil deadpanned as Remus nodded. He stared blankly as the creative side finished the dough and reached below the counter.

     “Bingo, bad boy.” Remus chirped as he slid a jar of Crofter's across the table.

    Virgil eyed the jam suspiciously as he bit his lip. “Where exactly did you pull that from—”

    “Not relevant.” Remus cheered brightly as he handed Virgil a spoon and started forming the cookies. “Start scooping and don't skimp on the jam. I don't want to offend the nerdy professor.”

    “Re, this is—” Virgil stared as he followed behind Remus, dropping jam into the indents of the cookies. “—surprisingly thoughtful.”

    “So, what?” Remus grinned, raising an eyebrow at Virgil. “Can't a guy do a nice thing every once in a while?”

     Virgil blinked, trying to stifle his own shock. “You try to convince Thomas to jump out of moving cars or eat dirt at least daily. Nice things just aren’t what you’re about. Are they?”

     “Maybe, I don’t like being predictable.” Remus chuckled as he took the tray from Virgil and slipped it in the oven.

    “Holy shit,” Virgil’s mouth dropped open as Remus set the timer. “You actually care about how the others are feeling right now?”

    “What?” Remus mused, raising an eyebrow at Virgil. “Did you think I was here for my own amusement, stormy night?”

    “I mean, kinda.” Virgil dropped his hands to his side, tugging at the hem of his tee. “I didn’t know that you were capable of—"”

    “Of course, you wouldn't think so.” Remus interrupted with a bored tone, sounding exasperated.

     Virgil paused as Remus dropped his voice. The uncharacteristic serious in his friend's muted tone stopped him in his tracks and he turned back to see Remus leaned on his elbows, staring at the countertop.

    “After this last video without us, everyone's thoughts about themselves are turning to crap and I feel them spiraling just the way you do, emo boy.” Remus smirked as Virgil stared back at him with shock in his eyes. “So, yeah. I used to make Thomas repeat this recipe over and over in his head until he memorized the damn thing.”

    “You did that so you could bake for the others if they had a bad day?” Virgil blinked, shocked at the sudden change from Remus’ usual boisterous behavior.

    Remus let out a long sigh as he fidgeted with a wooden spoon in his hand, twirling it between his fingers. “You might be his anxiety, but your not the only one carrying that gnawing dread that nothing's gonna work out, Dr. Doom. If it's grating and repetitive, it shows up on my radar too.”

    “I had no idea." Virgil muttered, unsure of what else to say.

    “You can thank Janus for that one, Virgie baby.” Remus chirped, a little more upbeat as the time chimed off. “You didn’t want to know and the snake's been keeping you safe and snug as long as you been kicking.”

    “But what about you, Ree?” Virgil wondered out loud as Remus started to drop the hot cookies onto plates to cool. “Who keeps you safe?”

    “Eh, who cares?” Remus’ voice cracked slightly as he rolled his eyes. “Point is that I’ll feel icky and this’ll make that go away.”

    “Remus, that’s not—”

    “What? Healthy?” Remus purred, as he wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulder and jostling him. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but I'm not Tommy-boy’s good coping mechanisms.”

    “No, but that's why Thomas works on them.” Virgil muttered as Remus released him. “I'm not exactly what Thomas wants all the time either, but he work through his issues so that I can focus on protecting him.”

   “Here’s the thing though,” Remus flashed Virgil a sharp-toothed grin as he chuckled. “My purpose ain’t quite so handy as yours, so its not worth that—”

    “You’re wrong, Remus.”

    Remus looked up in surprise at Virgil’s abrupt response. He stared for a moment at the concern in Virgil’s eyes before straightening up. “Oh?”

    “You keep Thomas grounded in reality.” Virgil shrugged as Remus looked up at him with skepticism in his eyes. “If Thomas lived his life looking Princey's rose-colored glasses, he'd be ignoring all the complex and difficult things that give life meaning.”

    Remus raised an eyebrow at him with a playful glimmer in his eyes. “So, there is creative value in ‘juicy butth—”

    “Stop,” Virgil held up a hand with a chuckle. “You know what I mean. Not everything is sunshine and sparkles. Thomas can’t ignore things just because he doesn’t like them. He needs the ability to face those things and you give him that, Remus.”

     Remus giggled, flashing a knowing smirk at Virgil. “You better be careful, Virgie. If you’re not, I might start to think you give a shit.”

    “I do.” Virgil dipped his head to hide the redness in his cheeks as Remus smirked at him. “I do, okay? Now, just shut up so we can deliver some cookies.”

    “Oh, gag me, emo boy.” Remus chuckled, barely concealing his smile as he made an over-exaggerated expression of disgust. “I didn't know you were capable of being so tooth-rottingly sweet—”

    “Just shut up." Virgil muttered half-heartedly as he smiled and took the plate Remus held out for him.

    Remus chuckled, nodding to the exit with a smirk. “Fine. How about we just deliver these top-notch sweets to our favorite depressed bitches then?”

    “Fine—” Virgil nodded reluctantly, hesitating as he followed Remus. “—and then maybe we could watch a movie or something after?”

   Remus nodded, perking up as he bounced along the hallway. “Something gory?”

    Virgil snorted as he staggered down the hallway. “Might as well. None of the other sides will watch scary movies with me anyway.”

    “It's a date then, stormy night.” Remus grinned, feeling lighter as they walked down the hall together. “You wore me down.”

    Virgil rolled his eyes, smiling as he followed the bouncing man ahead of him. “Good.”

---

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff​ @im-an-anxious-wreck

#ask #sunflower-avo-tea #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts virgil #ts remus #dukexiety

[dameronology]

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 5

summary: you like jack. jack likes you. it doesn’t have to be complicated - but that’s now how things work. {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing

sorry for the huge gap between this update and the last one!! university has been manic and somehow writing 1500 words for an essay is much harder than writing 4k words for a fan fiction. i hope you enjoy!!

- jazz

You weren’t in a relationship.

This was not a relationship.

Sure, you spent every night at Jack’s apartment and sure, he made you dinner three times a week and sure, he did everything a boyfriend would but no, he was not your boyfriend. You didn’t do relationships - especially not with cowboys. This was, as you had agreed prior, just a bit of fun. It was nice not having to go back to an empty apartment in a strange city, and even nicer to wake up in his warm arms. Because that’s what Jack Daniels was: warm - and funny and kind, all things which continued to surprise you. Every time he offered to help you with your paperwork or made you coffee in the morning, you couldn’t help but ask why. For him, it was his second nature; he cared about you and so, he looked after you. For you, having been trained in an office where it was every man for himself, it was hard to get your head around. 

You didn’t mean to let him do much for you. It was just that you hadn’t ever had anyone to look after you; it had always been you against the world. And, on the occasions he wasn’t being a pain in the ass, Eggsy. 

Eggsy! Fuck.

You shot up in bed, almost rolling out as you realised what time it was. 7AM. Midday in London, where your best friend had been waiting for your call almost two hours ago. The daily phone call that had become, of recently, weekly. You hadn’t mean for your priorities to slip, but with both Calahan and Jack keeping you busy, it had become hard. You were already stretching yourself in a thousand different directions on a good day - then there were the days where you had three witnesses to do recon on, twenty arrests to file in the system and a suspect to interrogate. Eggsy knew firsthand what it was like but you’d been perfectly able to keep up with the daily calls during your first few weeks here - then Jack happened, and you’d started to slip. Completely unintentionally, of course, but was that not just part of adult life?

‘Jack!’ You tried to wriggle free of his grip, but it only tightened. ‘I gotta get up-’

‘- no, you don’t.’ He wrapped his arms your waist, pulling you into his chest. ‘It’s a Sunday. Like hell do you need to get up on a Sunday.’

‘I have to call Eggsy.’ You attempted to wrench his arms off of you. 

Jack lifted his head off the pillow, revealing a tousled mess of dark hair and  languid brown eyes. He blinked for a moment, offering you a sleepy smile when your eyes met. 

‘Promise you’ll come back?’ He asked.

‘Promise.’ You pressed a quick kiss to his lips, smiling against him when he finally released you from his hold.

You pattered across the room, grabbing your phone off of the nightstand as you passed. As expected, there were six missed calls from Eggsy and a text with a a gif of a sad puppy. You felt a pang in your chest -- had you been a terrible friend? This was the longest time you’d spent apart in your entire lives. He was a constant presence and maybe that’s why you’d run to Jack so easily. No, you pushed that thought aside. You were with Jack because you liked him. It was nothing to do with anyone else. 

‘Look who finally found the time to call me.’ Eggsy’s sarcastic drawl came down the phone after exactly two rings. 

‘I am so sorry.’ You groaned. ‘I overslept.’

‘You never oversleep.’ He shot back. ‘You get up at 5am every Sunday to go for a run and watch Friends.’

‘You’re the one who was always banging on at me to start enjoying the luxuries of sleeping in.’ You reminded him. ‘So I did.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ Eggsy teased. ‘So how come you’re not at your apartment?’

You froze. ‘I am.’

‘Really? Because I tried your landline five times and you didn’t answer.’ 

‘What is this?’ You scowled. ‘Interrogate your best friend day or something?!’

‘Stop trying to change the subject.’ He shot back. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Whose name?’

‘The guy you’re clearly sleeping with.’

Another groan. ‘He doesn’t have one.’

‘He must do if it’s serious enough to distract you from...nevermind.’

‘From what?’ You asked.

‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’

‘Eggsy. Just tell me.’ You stressed. ‘It’s me.’

‘That’s my point.’ He replied. ‘Look, I didn’t want to say anything because it’s gonna make me sound like an arsehole, but you’ve been distant these past few weeks.’

‘I’ve been working. You know how important this job is.’ You sighed, running a hand through your hair. ‘And the timezone isn’t helping.’

‘You say that, but then you’re with a guy-’

‘- I’m not!’ You cut him off. 

You were tired. Too tired for this. You loved your best friend but sometimes, his petulance could rub you the wrong way. You’d been so important to one another for so long that Eggsy sometimes acted a little...entitled. Entitled to every second of your attention, entitled to know every detail of everything in your life. Most of the time, you would divulge - and that probably didn’t help the situation - but this? You wanted to keep it yourself. It was personal. Too personal even for him. 

‘You’re the one who left early to be with Tilde and I didn’t whine or kick up a fuss!’ You snapped. 

‘So you had a problem-’

‘- I don’t have the energy for this right now.’ You cut him off. ‘It’s early and I’ve been working my arse off all week. This is my first day off in forever.’

‘And you still managed to find time for a hook up and not call me?’

‘It’s not a hook up.’ You quickly said. Quicker than you would have liked, actually. ‘I’m just doing something for me for once, Eggsy.’

‘I encourage it but not at the expense of-’

‘- of what?’ You snapped. ‘Of you?’

‘Exactly.’

‘I’m going back to bed.’ You announced. 

‘But we haven’t spoken properly for days!’

‘Yeah, and you still managed to make this into a woe me, she’s doing things that don’t revolve around me! conversation.’ You sardonically laughed. 

‘What do you want me to say? Sorry for missing you?’

Eggsy was attached to you. Probably a little too attached. It had caused problems early in his relationship with Tilde and he didn’t even know fully about Jack and was already kicking up a fuss. You couldn’t blame him; you’d grown up together, and you were the only constant person in his life. Whenever things had been bad at home, you were his escape. Whenever he found himself getting into trouble for hundredth time, you never strayed away from fighting his corner. He’d been there for you too; fighting off bad boyfriends and calling out any sexist co-workers. It was just that sometimes his sentiment extended a little too far, to the point where he got offended if he wasn’t the centre of your universe. 

‘No, Eggsy.’ You murmured. ‘I just...I’m sorry I snapped, and I’m sorry I was shit and missed your call, but I’m not sorry for not giving you the 411 on everything I do.’

‘I give you the 411 on everything I do.’

‘And I’ve told you a million times that you don’t have have too.’ You replied. ‘I have a life outside our friendship and you’re going to have to get used to it.’

‘That wasn’t what I was trying to get at.’ Eggsy began. ‘I just meant that I know you and I know you don’t do relationships but it kinda seems like you’re doing one right now and I just...don’t forget about me, yeah?’

Glancing over your shoulder, you checked that the bedroom door was still closed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Jack to hear, but discussing the private details of your thing together to somebody else wasn’t really something you wanted him to hear. Especially when he barely knew Eggsy. 

‘I could never forget about you, Egghead.’ You softly smiled. ‘But this is not a relationship, okay? It’s just something to keep me busy whilst I’m in the city. Both parties are very much aware and I promise you that I know what I’m doing.’

(You didn’t).

‘Okay. I’ll let you get back to sleep.’ Eggsy chuckled. ‘Love you, old pal.’

‘Love you more, old chum.’

Your heart was a little heavy as you hung up. You missed him dearly but you liked what you had going here; people actually listened to you at Statesman and whatever the hell was going on with Jack felt good. You’d felt confident in what you’d said to Eggsy about it not being a relationship, but you couldn’t help but panic a tiny bit. What if you were slipping further and further towards the point of no return? What if you were becoming so comfortable that even if you did fall into some accidental, domestic situation, you were too attached to admit it? That went against everything you fundamentally were. Jack went against everything you fundamentally were - and yet, you were so ready to shrug it off. It wasn’t bad to let someone look after you, right? You could stop whenever you wanted, but it hadn’t reached that point just yet. 

Jack was still awake when you crept back into the bedroom; he was staring at the ceiling, eyes heavy with sleep, but open nonetheless. He didn’t turn to look at you when you crawled back onto the mattress, instead just reaching an arm out towards you as you collapsed against his side. There was something...grounding about him. Steady and comforting. He spent most of his time humouring your finicky and pedantic nature, constantly reminding you to calm the fuck down and take a breather. He’d been teaching you to take things a little less seriously, and it felt good.

‘How’s Eggsy?’ He murmured quietly, eyes falling shut again. 

‘He’s...’ you dropped your head against his shoulder, pondering for a moment. ‘Eggsy.’

Jack’s chest shook with a light chuckle. ‘You sounded a little stressed on the phone.’

‘He was just asking a lot of questions.’ You replied. ‘More than I have the answers to.’ 

‘About what?’ He asked. ‘Me?’

‘A little.’ You explained. 

Jack made a quiet mmm sound, his grip on you tightening as he pulled you closer. He pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled you under chin. You didn’t resist - he was comfortable and warm, and you felt safe like this. The actions were a direct antithesis to the vortex of panic and confusion in your brain. The more you did stuff like this - soft mornings and stolen kisses and sleepily pillow talk - the less easy it would become to cut it all off at a minute’s notice. It’s not that you wanted to do so, but knowing you could was what offered that extra little bit of comfort. It was like an extra fire escape in a big building, or an extra parachute on an airplane. 

‘What are we, Jack?’ You asked quietly. ‘Jack?’

Your question was met with a snore.

--

Jack knew that something was off the following day. 

You normally would have stayed at his apartment for the entire day, as you had for the last three weekends, but instead, you’d left at midday with a bullshit excuse about paperwork. He hadn’t argued it. Jack was very much aware of your shining individualism and need for time to yourself, so he didn’t think much of it. It was the same when you’d aired every text he’d sent, and the same when you didn’t ask him to give you a lift on Monday morning. He was a little torn between wondering if you were just being unwittingly taking time for yourself, or if he’d said or done something. Surely you would have said something, right? You always had done before. Of all the people he knew, you were the one who would call others out for their shit. 

The final straw had come when you weren’t in the office when he got in. Your desk was empty, and there was no sign of you having been there at all since Friday. No faint smell of Chanel in the air, no discarded Starbucks cup or terribly written stick notes. Nothing that he’d come to associate you with. 

‘Tequila?’ Jack stuck his head out the door, eyes catching his colleague’s as he drifted down the hall. 

‘Boss?’ Tequila stopped, giving him a nod. ‘Sup?’

‘Have you seen Percy anywhere?’ He asked. 

‘Yeah, she’s in Ginger’s office.’ He replied. ‘And damn, she looks good today. Heels and-’

‘- don’t drool.’ Whiskey cut him off. ‘It’s not a good look on you.’

Why were you in Ginger’s office? You never worked there. Heck, he didn’t know that the two of you were that close. You didn’t seem like the type of person who had time for friends. Eggsy was the exception, of course, but Jack saw him more as your weird, surrogate son than anything else. 

Sure enough, Tequila had been right - about both things. You were in Ginger’s office and you did look amazing. Not that it was different from any other day, but you were wearing a new lipstick shade that day and your hair had been done slightly differently. He couldn’t blame the guy for making a comment on it, even if it had made his blood boil. Jack knew that he didn’t really have the right, because you weren’t...exclusive or anything. All part of him was beginning to wish you were, but he knew that wasn’t your style. This was the closest he was ever going to get and frankly, he was just grateful somebody as breath taking as you was giving him the time of day. 

‘Hey, Whiskey.’ Ginger saw him first. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I need my agent.’ Jack replied. ‘Got some paperwork on Calahan.’

‘I know, I’ve got it here.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Ginger is helping me with it.’

‘Not that paperwork.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Other paperwork.’

‘We don’t have other paperwork, Ja- Whiskey.’ 

‘We do. And I need your help with it.’ He said. ‘Now.’

‘Like right now?’ You frowned. 

‘Yes, agent.’

Agent? Had he just called you agent? Freaking Merlin called you that. It did make sense, because they were technically both your bosses, but Jack wasn’t...well, he was Jack. Jack who you’d spent every night with for the past three weeks. Jack who made you dinner every night. Jack who you’d had a thousand deep conversations with. 

‘I guess I’ll see you around.’ You forced a smile at Ginger. 

‘Sure thing!’ She smiled back, not picking up on the tension. 

The pair of you walked back to your shared office in silence, shared for the sound of your heels on the floor and the traffic outside. Neither of you had spoken for twelve hours and yet, there was some kind of tense atmosphere slowly taking over the space between you with each passing second. For a pair that were normally so good at talking, you sure had failed at it. 

Jack shut the door as soon as you entered - actually, he slammed it. It made you jump slightly, turning around to face him with a scowl. 

‘The fuck’s going on, Whiskey?’ 

‘I could ask you the same thing.’ He grunted. ‘What’s with all the sudden quiet? You doing a sponsored silence or something?’

‘No.’ You leant against your desk, not faltering. He was lucky that looks couldn’t kill. 

‘So why are you avoiding me?’

‘Why do you think I’m avoiding you?!’

‘I don’t know, darling - maybe the fact you left early yesterday, you’ve been ignoring my texts and calls and the fact you weren’t in the office this morning?’

‘Well, I guess you got me there.’ You muttered. ‘I just...Eggsy said something yesterday and it freaked me out a little.’

Jack faltered slightly. ‘What?’

‘He said it seemed like I was in a relationship.’ You explained. ‘And it made me realised that we’re really slipping towards that territory and it’s just not something I’m able to do.’

‘So, what? You wanna stop this whole thing?’

‘No!’ You exclaimed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Hey, c’mhere.’ Jack crossed the room, gently taking your hands in his. ‘What are you so scared of, sweetheart?’

‘Nothing. I’m not scared of anything.’ You tried to puff your chest out, and he could only laugh. 

‘I know what it’s about.’ He placed a hand on your cheek. ‘Remember all that shit you spewed about not needing anyone? About how you never needed anyone to look after you?’

You nodded. 

‘It’s not that don’t need anyone - I think you’re scared to.’ He explained. ‘Now, I’m not saying you need me, because I think you might slap this hat right off my goddamn head if I do, but I am saying that maybe, just maybe, you’ve been bordering on the territory of letting me look after you these past few weeks., and that is scary for you.’

‘Maybe I have.’

‘And that’s okay, sugar.’ He stressed. ‘You’re allowed to want someone to look after you, without needing someone to look after you. There’s a difference.’

‘There is?’

‘You don’t know a damn thing, do you?’

‘I don’t think I do.’ You bit your lip, eyes falling to the ground.

Jack chuckled. ‘Everything we said still stands -- all that about this only being whilst you’re in New York, about it not getting in the way of our work. I know this is more serious than we planned but I’m still down for it if you are.’

‘I just...there is one more thing.’

‘What is it?’

‘Ginger and I were talking - not about you, you just kinda came up - and she uh...’

‘She said I’m the reason she’s not in the field, didn’t she?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That’s...that’s complicated.’

‘It doesn’t seem complicated.’ You urged. ‘She’s a good agent. She works hard and she at least deserves a chance.’

‘You trust me, don’t you?’

‘Why are you answering my questions with questions?’ You thinned your eyes at him. ‘But yeah, I do.’

‘Then trust me when I say that I have my reasons.’ He said. ‘Please?’

‘Yeah, okay.’

‘So, are we good?’

‘We’re good.’

You didn’t resist when Jack pulled you into a tight hug, or when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He held your head to his chest, hand on the back of your head for a moment, letting out a small sigh. It was easy to listen to what he’d said, about trusting him and it’s complicated - in fact, it was a little hard to think about anything when the faint smell of his aftershave was swarming your senses, warm body pressed to yours. 

But still, you couldn’t push away the nagging feeling at the back of your head. 

taglist: @b0nnyzz @xremember-me-notx @somenerdyuser @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @javisjeanjacket @phoenixhalliwell @no-droids-on-sunday​ @paintballkid711​ @waatermelon-sugaar​ @hepburnwritess​ @haileyybird​ @xjaywritesx​ @jabbajambler​ @the-mandalorian-clone-lover​ @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky​ @welcometothepedroverse​ @wickedmuse​ (if you wanna be added, pls drop me a msg!) 

#this was meant to end with angst but i couldn't do it #and i had to include the ginger thing because its mentioned in the movies and i have my theory #but more on that next chapter #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels imagine #pedro pascal character headcanons

[duskyskz]

Blueberry Claws - H.H.J

Warnings - Halloween Au, mentioned assault, choking, Hyunjin!Dom mild tones, slight violence

Word Count - 4.7K

A/N - ahaha this .. turned out way longer than I meant to ohno I'm sorry Hyunjin had my heart in a vice grip lately

Part of @nightshade-minho and @mini-meanhoe 's Halloween collab!

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

Elbow deep in ruddy earth, you kneel among the undergrowth of your garden, plucking away stray roots and weeds. It’s not your favourite part of the day, but you pride yourself in the exquisite berries your growth produces, and adequate sunlight is a must in bringing the sweetest fruits. Autumnal chills creep down your spine, warning you of setting sun and cooler nights looming over the forest horizon. It is a quaint little house, settled carefully between the curve of the river and the forest border, a hat’s toss away from the village settlement, and you enjoy it that way - far away enough for privacy and undisturbed peace, yet not isolated enough to be unreachable and dreary. 

People weren't the only viable company, anyway. Your neighbors came in the form of passing badgers rummaging through your compost, squirrels and mice poking their noses through cracks in your windowsill while you bake, the sweet smell of sugar and jams luring in a furry audience you felt obliged to entertain, tossing crumbs and peels into the open yard. 

“Croak!” 

You raise your head away from the mud at the screech, glancing upward. 

“Hello.” You greet your most recent visitor. The magpie quickly climbed upon your friendlist, introducing itself with a persistent knock of its beak against your poor kitchen windowpane. It came back the next evening, and the one after that, never missing more than a day in it’s routine to rob you of your pie crusts. 

“Are you hungry?” 

“Croak!” You suppose that’s a yes, considering the intensity with which the bird stares down at your precious blueberries. 

“Come on, then. Lunch wouldn’t hurt me, either.” 

***

“Can you believe that - that witch!” You stomp along the pavement to your front door, slamming it open. “The audacity to even imply my pies are anything but organic!”

Positively fuming, you don't entertain the absurdity of venting your frustrations to a corvid. At times, you think to yourself the little blackbird almost understands you - head tilting in accordance with your words, nodding when appropriate and watching your dutifully as if awaiting continuation. 

Then it’s attention switches from your wild gesticulations to the fresh batch of muffins cooling on your counter, and your suspicions of a higher intelligence disappears, leaving you to sweep cake crumbs off it’s feathers. No, plunging neck-deep into hot cake is not wise, you’d point out later. 

***

Maybe the loneliness does get to you after all. It’s a little embarrassing to admit how reliant you become on the magpie’s company. Its’ shrill croaks and glassy eyes became a comfort to you, a presence your day no longer felt complete without. Brushing your fingertips over the delicate feathers on its back, you rest your chin on your other palm. 

“It’s a dreary winter coming, birdie.” You muse, humming at the overcast sky. Masses of grey and washed out blues tumblr over the hills, warning you of approaching snows and rains. “I should fix the roof hatching tomorrow morning - be a shame to freeze my toes off before the solstice, wouldn’t it?” 

 The magpie doesn’t reply, and you don’t expect it to, but the slow blinks as you speak convince you your words don’t fall on deaf ears. 

“As long as I don’t have someone warming my bed, I better do all the warming myself.” Springin to your feet, you set to work on tidying the front yard. 

“Would you care to join me to fetch new hay for the roof tomorrow?” 

Your unconventional companion opens his beak, groaning. Then it snaps down into the ground, impaling one of your finest strawberries. 

Ah, well. 

You can only guess what a magpie must tend to in a day - you weren’t about to keep it from important bird tasks.

***

Your window panes quiver with the force of the hurricane, creaking sadly in their wooden frames. You have no idea what time it could possibly be, but judging by the time already passed since sundown, it’s way into the late night. Dismorphed figures haunt the outside, shadows passing over your bedroom like a predator, and you burrow deeper under your covers. Of course, approaching winter was harsh. In the hillside, mountain winds rolled down rocky foundations to crash into your humble home with rapid force. Turning onto your side, you press your head against the pillow to mute the whistle of the wind through your thin walls. You’d patched the roof last week - but you had yet to insulate the walls fresh, and chills made themselves known through cracks and gaps in last year’s worn overlay. 

With a soul-crushing snap, your window is thrown open as the lock gives way to hurricane, two fragile glass planes whipping open into the dead of night as you curse your luck and scramble out of bed to grasp the handles before they’re torn off entirely.

Yet something past the glass grabs your gaze before you can pull them shut, petrifying you in place. You don’t know if it’s the rain freezing your feet to the ground, or the unfiltered terror, but you can’t even scream as your eyes meet the vividly yellow ones across your garden.

Hunched above your blueberry bush, in a cloak of pitch black, stands a creature you’ve only seen in manic sketches in the village hall prior to tonight. Its’ spine seems bent, somehow, too long and too skewerd to fit precisely in its body, leaving two lumps protruding from its back. In a pale face, boxed in by wisps of black, you can only focus on two luminous eyes, zeroing in on your figure with far too much attention for your liking. 

In its knifed claws it grips a branch of your favourite plant, mangled and weeping blueberry juice onto the dirt. Maroon splatters blot the beast’s face, but you don’t gaze long enough to separate fruit from the blood of some poor soul. 

Maybe your blood will be next on its beak. 

Yanking the window shut, you tumble into your bed, curling as tight as you can into the duvet, shielding your head. Maybe it’ll go away if you don’t make noise, holding your hands to your ears. 

Maybe it’ll just go away.

***

It’s been three days since the storm, and coincidentally, three day since you’ve last seen your closest friend. Really, mayhaps this was a sign your friendship should extend elsewhere, and not the local corvid populace. Shovelling pastries into your hamper, you venture out into the open air for the first time since that night.

You’re still unable to clean the wreckage in your front yard. Somehow, the thought of laying your hands on the same branches that unknown horror touched fills you with dread, and you can’t bring yourself to rid the leftover mess. You had enough jams and preserves stockpiled to last you the whole winter if need be - if you weren’t financially obliged to sell most of them, anyway. 

Fitting yourself with a scarf to guard from temperamental weather, you wrap the wool tightly up to your nose as the first leaves fall from the oaks beside you. 

You love your town, you really do. 

The whimsy of nearby streams rolling over lustrous green fields is a wonder to wake up to every morning, and the walk into town is always a pleasant meander under centuries-old oaks and pine trees, spying on the conversations of woodpeckers and crows.

Yet, among all the commotion, you find yourself missing one particular croak. Never quite the same elegant cry as the other birds, but particular and endearing in its own right. 

And entirely missing from your life for half a week.

Passing the stone gates, you keep to the right of the road to make space for idle carts and horses wandering the streets. Carefully, you unload all your stock onto the market table - this stand has your name carved into the wooden leg, and you pride yourself on being a regular enough attendant to warrant a reserved place. 

The day flurries by you in a mess of clinking jam jars and passing coins. Afternoon had already set in a while ago, traversing into the evening by the time you begin wrapping up your last sale. Bidding goodbye to the market staff, you hoist your (significantly lighter) basket over your forearm, leaving the town square. It’s not dark yet, bare wisps of the night inking over your head as the sun lowers over the woods, letting you lose your train of thought in the scenery.

You feel the last pricks of stress leave you as your thoughts drift to the hallowing creature from nights ago. Perhaps your mind, in its hazy and exhausted stade, played up the vivid shadows and reflections in the moonlight? Yes, surely. There’s no way an animal this size and fright roamed your woods unacknowledged - The only terror you knew was the fabled warlock, but nobody has seen his face in decades. You weren’t even sure what he looked like. All tales of warlocks the library gave you marked them as haunted men, selling their soul for mastery of dark arts, giving up their limbs for a hint of inhuman power. Some had horns, you’d read. Some, a devilish tail winding between their legs, while some gave up their own eyes and replaced them with animal counterparts for better senses. 

It scared you more than you’d like to admit, the more you entertained the possibility of a being so twisted hiding in the depths of your woods - but was Hwang Hyunjin even real, or a figment of townsfolk imagination? 

Entangled in your own head, you fail to notice the arm lashing out to grab your elbow and yank you violently sideways, slamming your back into the brick wall between two buildings. 

“Ouch!” You rasp out, catching your breath, but your scream is broken by the hand quickly winding around your throat.

Great, after a shitty week you were going to get robbed, too! 

“Don't you try open your mouth again, you little bitch.” A coarse voice hissed against your cheek. You tried to reel away from the terrible stench of his breath, but with your back against the wallside, it was impossible to weasel out. “Made quite a pretty penny at the market today, didn’t ya?”

A large, cold hand snuck down your waist, over the ribbons tying your corset shut, and you were sure you’d retch when clammy fingers started tugging at the knot. 

“Where are you hiding it, then? Down your vest?” One sharp pull leaves your corset flying open, exposing your skin to freezing night air, shielded only by a thin undershirt. You try to shake your head, but the hold on your neck makes it impossible to even curse. “That’s a bit thin, isn’t it? Not much to hide under such flimsy fabric -”

“Shit!”

You heave in a breath as the tightness around your throat suddenly wanes, disappearing, and all weight lifts from you. Eyes watering from the lack of oxygen, you blink rapidly to clear your vision, stumbling back as you find focus. 

Shrill cries tear from your assailant, angry red oozing from the gash above his left eye, arms flailing maniacally to chase away the blur of feathers thrashing around his head. Slinking down to catch your breath, you pull your knees to your chest to steady your breathing, though the scene before you grows more gruesome every time you blink. 

You can’t tear your eyes away, even as the bird dives down again, embedding its razor claws in the man’s eye socket. The screams are terrifying, but you don’t have the thought to wonder how no one else came to check the commotion. 

Maybe nobody wanted to.

In muted horror, you watch as the man finally lands a hit, thrashing the tiny bird into the wall opposite with a numbing crack, spinning on his heel to face you once more, though his one eye struggles to find your face. He stumbles forward, lurching in your direction, drops of fresh blood flying at your feet.

“What are you, a witch? I should burn you alive -”

Smack!

You’re sure you’re hallucinating as he topples to the pavement, struck by a surprise force. Hunched over him, in a flurry of black feather, sits a mass you know  you’ve seen before. For a moment you think, another bird? A whole flock? But then the feathered cape shifts, raises, and you realise it’s one pair of  heavy-set wings protruding from a broad back, arms poised to strike over and over at a target long void of defense. You feel sick - everything that unravelled in the last few moments makes your stomach churn, and you vomit onto the floor between your feet. You can’t watch the blood any longer, listen to the crunching sound of tendons snapping and bone breaking, rolling over as you feel your legs give way to jelly.

***

You can feel yourself swaying, gently. You don’t feel the ground, but you know you’re moving, head balanced on something pillowy and warm, but still solid - what a weird combination. 

There’s something holding you up by your legs, and another clutching onto your back. You have half the mind to open your eyes when you’re coherent enough to, knowing you should be alarmed given the situation you just vaguely avoided. But this is nice. Your lift your eyelids barely enough to take in your position, head propped carefully on a shoulder. You can’t see much beyond the collarbone your nose is tucked into without outing yourself as awake, so you settle for breathing in deep, lulling your nerves with the scent of ash and fern. It's safe, comforting somehow, in a way you’ve never felt comforted in. Your forehead grazes his cheek, tips of his dark hair tickling your skin as you heave out a sigh and press your face deeper against the warmth. 

“I’m sorry I left you, Birdie.”

His voice is gentle, too. You let it ring in your head, soft whispers and words you can't quite decipher but appreciate nonetheless lulling you back into shallow sleep. You recognise your surroundings by the shift of light, stepping out from the tree canopy into wide hillside, catching last rays of sunlight. 

You think he’s going to wake you and ask for a key, but your front door grants him access with just a single flick of his wrist under your knee. You’ll have to ask him about that later.

Nudging his way inside, ducking to fit past the low doorframe, your saviour swiftly marches to your bedroom, confirming your suspicions. The layout of your house was entirely too familiar to him for it to be the first time he’s visited the premises. Or the second, if you count the night visit three days back. When he lowers you onto the mattress, it's with such care your heart skips in your chest, and you pray he doesn’t hear it stop entirely when you feel his fingertips brush over your shoulder to pull the blankets over you, strong arms straining under his shirt as he moves your head from his shoulder and you immediately miss the heat. There’s a cup of water by your bedside that wasn’t there before, and when satisfied with your placement, he steps away. Your eyes blink open fully when you feel his presence leave your side. 

“Are you leaving?” Your voice sounds small even to you. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me around.” He answers after a hesitant pause, kneeling by your bed. “You - You looked really scared that night. I never want you to be scared of me.” 

You sit up, reaching for the glass of water which he swiftly passes to you to soothe your throat and wash out remaining bile. Your skin still burns in the places that asshole touched you, and you hiss when your fingers rub the sore spots on your neck, before a larger hand wraps around your palm, bringing it down to glare at the bruise.

“I won’t apologize for what happened to him, though.” The venom in his voice makes you still. “That filth got what he deserved - I should have taken his other eye, too.” 

“...Is he dead?” You’re not sure you should ask.

“No. I left him breathing, but I can’t guarantee someone will find him in time.” 

“You left him blind, that’s enough Hyunjin.” His head snaps up at the name, as if he didn’t expect the confrontation. “You’re the magpie that’s been visiting my garden this summer, aren’t you? You’re the fabled terror in our woods.”

You say the last part with a smile, but the warlock  lowers his head still, glancing down at the blanket curving over your hips.

“....Yeah.” He mumbles, observing the many silver rings at his knuckles. “Is that too much for you?”

“What do you mean?” You scrunch your nose, confused, when he doesn’t elaborate. 

“At first I just came to visit because of the garden, but every time you saw me you’d talk to me like I was a person - Like I could understand. And I know you talk to the others too, like that ugly goose -” You want to scold him for calling Truffles ugly, but he carries on without pause. “But in my head it was just, nice. Even if I couldn’t reply, whenever you speak, there’s no darkness in me. Nothing but you.”

Hyunjin frowns, not wanting to meet your eyes yet. His hand grips the edge of your duvet, straining the fabric as his wings twitch.

“I was so fucking mad at myself when you saw me. You looked so small, so petrified - and of me. And as much as I wanted to take you into my arms and reassure you I couldn’t.” 

You can’t deny it, you were scared then. But knowing the man before you now, the events of today and the large part thunder and your own exhaustion played into your fear that night, you felt none of the apprehension now, resting your hand atop his shaking ones. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t want to see me again, if you’d guessed what I was after that. So I let you be, watching from a distance, because I couldn’t bring myself to let go completely. And today, fuck -” He runs a clawed hand through his locks, pushing hair out of his face to finally look at you, golden eyes rooting you to your spot. “I should have snapped both his legs for even thinking to touch you.”

“But maybe that’s my own vice.” You watch soft pink lips form words you’re not sure are real. They could have been your own imagination, for how quietly he speaks. “Maybe my love would be too much for you.” 

The silence that follows his confession is crushing to both of you, for entirely different reasons. 

You barely wrap your head around the idea of being loved by him before he pulls his hand away from yours, accepting rejection he knew was coming. It’s not until he stands that you breathe in, catching the edge of his jacket before he can leave you again.

“It’s not.” You state. “It’s not too much.”

You hope he doesn’t mistake the quiver in your voice for doubt, because you’ve never been so sure of something in your life. 

“Do you mean that?” The hopeful lilt to his voice sparks your heart alight, he’s at your side in seconds, long feathers sweeping the floor below his feet as he moves. “Are you sure you want me the same way I want you?”

“I do.”

You nod to reassure him, sliding further down the bed to make space for his larger frame. Hyunjin slinks in next to you, crawling over to hover above you, taking in the way you look finally beneath him. His feathers block out most light, sun long set. You can barely see, but before you can complain about missing his ethereal beauty, a candle flickers alight by your window, and another on your bedside table. Another, and yet one more afterward, until your bedroom filters in a warming glow from a dozen shy fires. 

Ah, warlock things. 

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin hesitates still, lips stopping millimeters away from yours as the last strings of hesitation cling to his thoughts until you urge him to move. “You can touch me.”

His lips are warmer than anything you’ve ever felt, moving over your mouth like fine malt wine. There’s a quiver in his hands when he brings a palm down to cradle your cheek, running his thumb over the smooth skin as his tongue runs over your teeth. 

You don’t notice your legs spreading open to allow him between your thighs until his knee bumps against your core, bundling your skirts in his fist to pull them down and off. 

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to have you under me like that, birdie.” Hyunjin whispers. “All for me, at my mercy - you look so good like that.”

The irony of him using your own nickname for him on you is lost in the moment you arch your back into his touch, pressing your still corseted chest against his palm. Every place he touches has you needing more of him, every part you can reach. 

“Undress me, please.” 

“Gladly.” Nimble fingers pluck the bow of your shirt open, lifting it over your head. In the cocoon of his wings and candle light, you feel a love you’ve never known before. Discarding his own shirt next, you hardly have a moment to take in the exquisite expanse of his chest before your field of vision is taken up with glimmering navy feathers, Hyunjin’s head dipping to swirl his tongue over your nipple. Your grip in his hair makes him keen against your chest, groaning over the sensitive flesh between his teeth.

“Are you - You’re a virgin?” The idea of him being the first to make you feel so open, the only person to see you react to such intimate touch gets him harder than Hyunjin thought possible. 

“Ah, yeah…” You nod. Were your reactions so telling? You suddenly felt even smaller, caged between his arms and the pillows, watching his tamarind eyes flicker.

“I’ll love you well, birdie. Don’t worry.” He blows cool air onto your damp bud and you feel like crying. One hand leaves the space by your head, pinching your other peak. At first gently, testing how far he could push your limits to get you melting at his touch, then harder when you moan at the slight burn. 

Your hips rise to rub against his thigh, unknowingly seeking out friction to aid the dampness gathering in your underwear. His hand meets you there, slipping a finger under the band of your panties to snap it against your skin for your impatience, and you still immediately, recognising his dominance even without prior warning. 

“Be good and wait. If I own you, I’m taking my time with you.” There’s a hard edge in his voice, something about the empty threat makes you want to push his buttons until he snaps. 

You don’t need to wait much longer.

Ridding you of the last scrap of clothing you had left, Hyunjin has you bare and displayed, every part on show and within his reach. Slower than you can take, he drags his thumb on the inside of your thigh, kissing and nibbling the delicate skin just inches away from your dripping cunt. When his thumb finally, finally rubs a circle against your clit you whine his name so loud he nearly bites down hard. Still, he holds his pace, pressing his thumb in patient patterns against your nub as his teeth mark up your thighs.

“Jinnie, go harder, please.”

You know you fucked up when he glances up at you, brows quirking in amusement. 

“I said I’ll take care of you, y/n. If you want to cum, lay there and take it.”

You’re thankful he has a shred of mercy for your sanity, because your pleas seem to have a marginal effect on his movement. 

You eat your words when Hyunjin forces two fingers inside your already wet slit, scissoring you open with harsh flicks of his wrist. His lips remain stuck to your clit, and the sudden assault on your senses has tears rushing down your cheeks.

“W-Wait! Hyun, wait, I don’t want to cum yet!” You don’t really believe he’ll listen.

“Don’t you? But I thought you wanted me to hurry, birdie?” The mockery in his voice makes you clench, and you’d flush if you weren’t so close to orgasm. “For someone not ruined before, you beg for a dick so well.”

“No...Not yet, I wanna cum on you, please.” 

Hyunjin can resist many things - spells, curses. Killing a man on multiple occasions. 

Your whimpering voice as you beg for him to take your virginity in your own bed, wrapped around his fingers and blushing from his tongue is not one of those things. 

“Fuck, okay.”

Pulling his fingers out, your lips part at the emptiness, but your nerves prickle with knowledge of what awaits you next. Hyunjin is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, sweat dampening his forehead and eyes peering right into your heart whenever your gazes meet. You’re hypnotised by the way muscles in his back tense when he kneels between your thighs, urging you to open up for his fit. You only catch the briefest sight of his length, but it’s enough to make you gasp in anticipation at the size and thickness of his base. 

“You’re sure you want me?” Your legs wrap around his waist as he asks, not yet penetrating you, only resting his length on your slick core. 

“I want you more than anything I’ve ever dreamed of, Hyunjin.” You channel all your love and trust into your words, daring yourself to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. 

Feeling the stretch of him is euphoric, inch by inch, more than any discomfort could hope to reach. Your focus on the flex of his forearm propping him up beside your head, the tantalizing way his mouth curls in a moan of your name when he bottoms out, placing his seal on you completely. 

“Tell me when I can move, alright?” 

“N-Now, you can move. Please move.” You’re gonna go insane if he doesn’t ravage you right now, digging your nails into his bicep. Hyunjin starts off slowly, gentle languid strokes brushing over your walls. With every move, he feels you relax, the tension in your legs loosening into desperate longing as you pull him deeper into you, trapping him against your body.

You open your eyes only to grab his hand, wrapping it around your throat. His hips stutter, before he grips you fully, squeezing the sides of your neck until your moans turn to broken cries of his name.

“You’re such a cute little whore, love. What a dirty pussy you’ve been holding out on me.”

The smirk he looks down on you with is downright filthy, degrading every shred of dignity you had left, but you don’t take in anything but him, his hips slamming you into the mattress and the hot breath against your ear. “Are you gonna cum from that? My good girl, just like that...Let go and cum under me.”

He pulls his hand away from your neck, allowing you to heave in a breath and scream his name. Hyunjin holds you down by your wrists above your head, thrusting relentlessly as you cum around him, shaking and sobbing from the overstimulation at your centre. He allows himself to release then, as your whimpers quieten and he rides out your highs with you, filling you to the brim. 

You stay entwined for a moment as you catch your shaky breath, coming out of the headspace Hyunjin fucked you into. When he pulls out, you fight the urge to clamp your legs shut as he holds your thighs apart, admiring the way his cum spills out of your rawed hole. 

“Let me clean you first, birdie.” 

You nearly drift off in the blissed-out feeling that envelops you as he wipes your legs clean with a warm, damp cloth, stroking over tingling bruises with adoration. 

When he’s finally satisfied with your state, Jinnie allows you to tug him back into bed with you, arms immediately coiling around your middle to press you into his chest, nose nuzzling against the crown of your head to breathe in your scent. 

“I meant every word I said.” He mentions, speaking against your forehead. His lips tickle you with every word and you’re so tempted to kiss him again just because you can. “ I really do love you.”

“I know, Jinnie. I love you too.”

****

Tag list - @defsbxessi @godlyaj @palet-innie

#skz smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin #lee minho #stray kids imagines #hyunjin #Halloween au #Hyunjin au

[m-y-fandoms]

[SDR2 Girls] x selectively mute reader - imagines

Request: SDR2 Girls reacting to hearing a selectively mute S/O speak for the first time, please!!

Sure thing! Also, so that more people can relate and read this with themselves in mind, if you want to, you can read this as an s/o who simply doesn’t talk often due to shyness, idk. I wrote it with selectively mute in mind like the request says though. Also, some of these take place in SDR2, some in DR3 the anime, in Hope’s Peak Academy. - Admin Kokichi

Warnings: selectively mute reader, implied past trauma, self-hate and doubt, insecurities, mild and not in detail, always resolved with fluff.

Mahiru Koizumi

     “(S/O), what do you think of these ones?” Your loving, strong-willed girlfriend, Mahiru Koizumi splayed out a bunch of photos before you, carefully ordering them in a particular way and looking to you with an almost nervous anticipation in her eyes that was uncharacteristic of her. She stood behind you, looking over your shoulder anxiously. She valued your opinion highly, above most of the artists and creative minds she’d become acquainted with in her years of expert-level photography.

     Your eyes scanned the pictures thoughtfully, appreciating every inch, every focal point, every hidden meaning. You took in the composition, the symbolism, the saturation. Your girlfriend was so passionate, so gifted, and far too hard on herself. Slowly, your brows raised. She took this expression immediately to mean disapproval, and began to defend herself.

     “I know, I know. I was trying to do a series here. It was a new concept I’m trying... a bit too bold I think for now. I should stick to just quality headshots for the time being, that was my last concept. Following the first photo, the rest were suppose to connect and flow like a story but I understand if it’s not coming through-” you interrupted her speedy string of words, the shield she put around herself and her work.

     “This is the best one yet!” Your mouth hung open, lost in the colors. Your eyes swam, bouncing from polaroid to polaroid.

     “No, be honest because like-” Her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “(S-S/O)???” She spun you around to face her, tears at the corners of her eyes. She pulled you into her chest, nearly squeezing the life out of you. All doubts about her work went out the window. If it was good enough to make you speak, it was good enough for her.

     She left little pecks all over your cheeks, and insisted of taking a photo to remember this moment.

Peko Pekoyama

     Being rather quiet and reserved herself, Peko didn’t mind your timid nature. She knew of trauma, seeing much of it growing up in the yakuza way of life. She had trauma of her own, and had caused others great trauma in the line of duty, protecting her Young Master. Once she’d started dating you officially, she’d become your sword and your shield, quite literally as well as emotionally. She didn’t need words. She knew how you felt, when to back off, when you needed comfort. Being intuitive, preceptive, strong-willed and incredibly intelligent made her your perfect defender, your rock. 

     She was used to you pointing, signing, even drawing out your feelings at times, and didn’t need to know what your voice sounded like to love you, but when you spoke up, breaking your silence, for her sake nonetheless, she held back tears, eyes glistening.

     “Peko, I worry that you’re not happy sometimes… the Kuzuryuu’s overwork you. I want you to be happy.” You’d been sitting across from her in the dining hall, just the two of you all alone, Fuyuhiko having ordered her to fuck off for the day. Your voice was small, gentle, barely existent, but it was there. Her intense, scarlet eyes flew up to your mouth, sure her mind was playing tricks on her. She could tell from your posture and expression the past hour that you’d had something on your mind. Something was bothering you, but surely that hadn’t prompted actually speech?

     “(S/O)... did you just speak to to me?” Peko spoke concisely, purposefully like always. You nodded nervously. Maybe you’d overstepped by bringing up her line of work or the Kuzuryuu clan. It wasn’t your place. She’d been doing that far longer than you’d been with her.

     At your reply, the swords-woman merely closed her eyes pensively, almost appearing to be in a state of meditation. A small, barely noticeable smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was elated, ecstatic that you’d chosen to speak for her, that you loved and trusted her this much, but she wasn’t one to make a big scene of things.

     “I appreciate your concern for me, but no matter how hard I work, being with you makes me happy, preforming my duties make me happy. I’m sorry if I ever gave you reason to doubt either of those facts.” Her steady, confident hand reached out and stroked your back lovingly. You smiled, leaning into her touch.

Ibuki Mioda

     Ibuki talked enough for the both of you. You found comfort in the way she could endlessly hold a conversation where you could not. She made friends with ease and people loved her. Sometimes you feared that you held her back, that your quiet personality and baggage from your past was a grey stain on her neon spirit.

     Despite your doubts, Ibuki never hesitated to show her love for you. She held your hand all the time, regardless of if you needed that physical comfort at the moment. She carried the conversations, easily rolling with your signing, gesturing, and nods. She never forced you, never pushed your barriers, taking you completely as you are. You’d seen her bite people, scream, pull people away into her manic fantasies and crazy ideas, but with you she was a bit more patient, reserved.

     “Ibuki... w-why do you go easy on me? You’re so wild and free with e-everyone else... I hope I’m not holding y-you back,” you stuttered, fighting back tears. You weren’t really in the mood to talk, but this question had been burning in the back of your mind for too long. Ibuki’s fiery eyes widened. Her hands flew to her cheeks in a state of amazement and awe. You smiled sheepishly at her, completely in love with how passionate and alive she was at all times.

     “Whaaaa?! (S/O)!!! Your voice is like, totally adorable!!! Ibuki love-love’s it!” She ran over to you and wrapped her arms snuggly around your waist before jumping up and down in place, ignoring your actual question completely. 

     That was your Ibuki.

     “But-”

     “You think Ibuki goes easy on you!?!?! Perish the thought, oh lovey dovey lover of mine! If this is going too easy on you, I can go harder!!!!” She pulled away, shredding an air guitar in front of you with her teeth gritted in false exertion. You could tell she was purposely ignoring your second comment, the one about you holding her back. Ibuki didn’t like to focus on the negative, and her not answering your silly, nonsense question was her was of saying it was in fact a silly, nonsense question. She loved you, and she wanted to be with you.

     No if, and’s, or but’s about it.

Mikan Tsumiki

     Mikan was rushing back and forth, cleaning up messes, doing paperwork, organizing her backpack. The nurse’s office would be a hell hole without her. Hope’s Peak wasn’t even paying her for her endless duties as the nurse’s assistant, which was an outrage in your mind already, but then she spent every day fretting over homework, her studies, her friends, her job, and your relationship with her. It was criminal, the stress life put on that girl.

     Today was no different. Mikan had been to class, the to the nurse’s office to tend to ill students, then back to class, then lunch, and now here she was again, nearly in tears as she tidied up the actual nurse’s files in-between writing her own notes and research. She never let up on researching and perfecting her ultimate talent, and feared letting down anyone in her life, whether they deserved her attention or not.

     You sat on a hospital bed behind your frantic girlfriend, watching her struggle with a lump in your throat. You technically weren’t allowed to just be here unless you were sick, but the nurse hardly ever did her job, so she would never find out. Mikan sat before you, her cheeks wet and a grimace seemingly permanently etched into her face. You couldn’t take it any more. You stood, walking over to her and grabbing the files and pen from her hand. She let out a small yelp of surprise, so entranced with her work that she didn’t even notice your approach. You placed the cursed objects down, and wrapped your arms around her tightly.

     “Mikan, please. You need to slow down. You can’t keep working this hard.” Your voice shook, jittery as you buried your head into her shoulder. She jumped, startled by your actions. 

     “(S-S-S/O)! Y-you just spoke! You just spoke to m-me!” She froze, excited, anxiety-ridden, surprised, overwhelmed all at the same time. “Your voice is s-so cute! S-Sorry! Sorry if that’s weird to say!” Her bandaged hands reached up, grasping onto your forearms embracing her chest.

     “It’s not weird, but did you hear me?” It was imperative to you that she understood, that she agreed to pace herself, to put herself first from now on. You couldn’t watch her stress herself into an early grave any longer. With her already existing tendency to trip and fall clumsily, she didn’t need this constant stress and exhaustion to cause even more accidents.

     “Y-yes. Yes. I heard you. I’m sorry for not answering. I’m so s-stupid! I should’ve b-ben listening closer, eh!” She shook her head frantically, holding back tears. You only squeezed her tighter.

     “You’re not stupid. I love you, Tsumiki.” She stiffened up, then began to sob loudly, snot and tears rolling down her face. These words were so new to her, so unfamiliar. She didn’t feel like she deserved your love, but yes, she loved you, too.

     She loved you more than herself, more than work or school, more than nursing.

     More than life itself.

Hiyoko Saionji

     You loved Hiyoko, you really did, but she got on even your nerves at times. Your relationship with her started as one mutual respect, a kind of unspoken agreement that she would be little nicer to you than she was to others. She liked you, physically and mentally. She found you attractive in every way, and showed it the only way she could at first: by teasing, by bullying you, but you never responded, never gave her the satisfaction of a response. She liked that. Well, she hated it outwardly. It frustrated her to no end that she couldn’t get a rise out of you, but inside her admiration for you only grew with every exchange.

     She started to treat you like a best friend, an older sibling like Mahiru, and loved that you could keep up with her, that you weren’t intimidated by her, or at least if you were, you didn’t show it. She eventually pushed her pride aside enough to ask you out, wanting to make you hers before anyone else could, and you accepted, but again, it didn’t mean she didn’t get on your nerves from time to time.

     Today in particular, she was trying your patience. Everything you did, she complained about or belittled. She was teasing you, in some horrible mood today, demeaning everything move you made. You’d been spending the entire day together, and it was going a little something like this:

You went to the diner, she criticized your choice of food.

You went to the beach house, she made fun of the way you bonked your head off a surf board in the storage room.

You swam at the beach with some of your classmates, she pointed out the silly way your wet clothes clung to your body.

     Now you were back in your cabin with her, just shooting the breeze and making small talk, when she waltzed out of your bathroom with something in her hands. Something of yours.

     “What is this? I didn’t know you were this kind of pervert! Gross!” She cackled, holding up a pair of your underwear that were, let’s just say, maybe a more flashy and indulgent... not for daily or casual use. You’d discarded them just before your shower the night before, and forget that you’d simply left them on the bathroom tiles.

     You felt your cheeks heat up as she feigned disgust, swinging the garments around while continuing to comment and mock you loudly. You fists began to shake, and your blood felt like it was boiling.

     “Can’t you ever just give it a fucking break, you little troll?!” You marched forward, snatched the underwear from her hand, snarling inches from her face. A look of shock and horror crossed her face, and you both stood there, frozen for a few moments. Then, impishly, mischievously, her hand slipped up to cover her mouth, and she smirked devilishly.

     “Well, well, it’s about time you showed some back bone. Put me in my place, pervert~!” She giggled maniacally, stroking your cheek with one hand. “That was kinda hot.” Your cheeks continued to heat up, but now it was more from a flustered feeling in the pit of your stomach rather than anger

Chiaki Nanami

     You’d been dating Chiaki for a long while now. You guys went together like peanut butter and jelly. She was quiet, a bit lazy, low maintenance, and didn’t require you to speak endlessly... or ever really. She didn’t talk much herself, but she would when she needed to. You see, Chiaki could’ve been the ultimate empath, in her own right. She could feel for others, support them, comfort them, read their hearts, give the best advice. When it came to the things that really mattered, she was never one to slack off and be lazy. She was your perfect match.

     What’s more, her main hobby and passion, gaming, often didn’t require any speech, any communication at all. You either watched her play, resting your head in her lap silently, or during co-op, the game either guided you with tutorials, or Chiaki herself did all of the talking, looking to you for nods of confirmation. You two spent hours upon days upon weeks like that, just enjoying one game after the next. She often even let you choose the game, loving all genres herself.

     Today was the day: you were going to finally tell her how you feel. You were going to work up the courage and speak your heart. Of course, Chiaki knew you cared about her, and you knew she cared about you... but was it love? Did she really love you, or were you just comfortable, easy to deal with, her little outlet for social interaction? Were you just best friends, platonic soul-mates with the false label of a romantic relationship? Today you’d find out.

~

     You and Chiaki sat in her dorm as usual, in the dark with only a screen lighting her face gently. A soft blue glow softened her adorable features, and you felt your heart flutter. God you loved her so much...

     Scooting closer to her on the ground, you placed your head into her lap, heart beating at the speed of light.

     “Chiaki?” You spoke quietly, gently, anxiously.

     “Hmm?” she hummed in acknowledgement, her fingers never halting their rapid movements on the controller in her hands.

     “I... I love you.” You inhaled sharply and held that breath, heart thrashing violently against your ribcage. You waited eagerly for a response that you both desperately needed and were terrified to hear.

     Chiaki simply smiled warmly, the sounds of gunshots and a level-up in your ears as you waited. She didn’t make a big deal of your speaking. She knew it would come eventually, when you were ready and comfortable.

     “I love you, too, (S/O).” She gently stroked your hair with one hand, reassuring and calming you, masterfully owning the battlefield with just one spare hand.

Sonia Nevermind

     “I just don’t see why the others won’t try it out with me! You’d think even one of them would be interested!” You sat across from your regal lover, watching her throw her little tantrum in her unique and particular way of speaking. You loved the way she put accents on certain syllables, the way she messed up common lingo or phrases at times. It was so adorable. You couldn’t expect someone who knew dozens of languages to be perfectly fluent in all of them. “You know what I mean?” You nodded enthusiastically, lost dreamily in her eyes.

     She stood, beginning to pace back and forth in the dining hall on the second floor of the restaurant, a clear nobility to her strut. It was clear in her tone that she was used to giving orders, to speaking with purpose so that others would listen with fervor.

     “I mean, all I wanted was to try cosplaying, just once with everyone. Father never let me at home. He says it’s a silly past-time, and gets in the way of my royal duties!” She paused, fists in front of her chest in a gesture of exasperation. You nodded, eyes trailing up and down her milky skin. Wow, how did you get so lucky? “Hajime said he’d feel silly dressing up, Mahiru said she is busy, but I know she is not! Akane said it just wasn’t her thing. How does she even know unless she tries?!” You nodded, watching her chest rise and fall passionately. “I need at least five people to do this! It’s a group cosplay! Why don’t they understand? And Chiaki is nowhere to be found! She’d say yes, I know it!” She stuck one finger out matter-of-factly. Her eyes met yours, and she frowned slightly. “I’m sorry, I do not mean to sound ungrateful. It means a lot that you said you’d do it with me-”

     “You are so beautiful when you’re all riled up...” You spoke, your head resting in your hand lazily. You felt in a daze, so enraptured were you with her aura, her energy. Her eyes widened a bit, before she rushed over to you, cooing and giggling like a fool. “S-Sonia!” Your princess, so strong and bold despite her demure and innocent appearance, scooped you out of your chair and into her arms, twirling you about in the air.

     “Ahaha! My, my! I will have to get riled up more often if I get to hear your voice as a reward, my love!” She nuzzled her button nose against yours, setting your heart aflame.

Akane Owari

     You sat in your room, crying, weeping softly into your blanket. Today had been a horrible day. Not only were you suffering the normal anxiety about being in this killing game, but you were already a naturally stressed person despite that, and today, your insecurities and self-doubt were at an all time high after a savage bullying session from Hiyoko. Your pillow was now soaked, and your body was shaking. Hiyoko really knew how to wound a person at their very core.

     “(S/O)! Check this shit out! Teruteru-” Your lively, protective girlfriend, Akane, came bursting into your room, startling you half to death. She halted in her tracks upon seeing the tears streaking your face and the pink puffiness of your eyes. On her own face, numerous crumbs from various fried meats and sauces from what were no doubt extravagant dishes were displayed proudly, sticking to her chin and cheeks. In her hand was a silver platter of what was unmistakably the offending feast. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Who do I need to beat the shit outta?!” She set the platter on your bed, rushing to your side and hugging you to her ample bosom. You looked up at her, shaking your head softly and wiping some crumbs from her cheek. “Who is it?!” 

     She was starting to get frustrated. You shook your head again. Akane didn’t mean to get mad at you, and truly, she was more upset at the situation than at you. You knew that. Akane was simply a fire-brand: strong, short-tempered, loud and opinionated. You never took her outbursts seriously.

     “So you’re just sad? It’s one of those days? Nothing happened?” You nodded. “Something did happen?” You nodded again. “Gahhhh this is so hard without you talkin’ and shit!” She threw her hands up in the air, fuming until she saw your lip start to tremble, a wetness glossing your eyes. She sighed, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Look... you know I love ya, (S/O). I’m sorry for being a loud-mouth asshole. I’m not mad at you.” She squeezed you tight enough to break a bone, but then pulled you away, looking into your eyes deeply. “Who?” Now she was dead serious.

     “Hiyoko...” You nearly whispered, but it was there. Your voice was there. Akane blinked once, twice, her head tilting slightly. Had she heard that right? She was looking for an answer, but she’d never actually prepared for one. Slowly, her shock, rounded out lips turned upward into a devious smirk. She stood, walking briskly toward the door. “Akane-!” You reached out after her. She spun on her heel, hands on her hips.

     “I’m gonna go give that little shit a piece of my fist!” She turned to leave again, a shit-eating grin on her face. Pausing, she twisted around again to face you, pointing her finger toward you with gusto. “And when I come back, I’m gonna ravish you, babe! You better be ready!” And she sprinted out the door, leaving it wide open in her wake.

     Your cheeks had never been so warm.

#mahiru koizumi #peko pekoyama #ibuki mioda #mikan tsumiki #hiyoko saionji #sonia nevermind #akane owari #chiaki nanami #x reader #reader insert #SDR2 girls #sdr2 goodbye despair #super danganronpa 2 #selectively mute #fluff #angst #imagine #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa #Trigger happy havoc #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa killing harmony #female reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #s/o #y/n #scenario #fanfiction #headcanons

[drawlfoy]

Wonders of Ohio - P.7

masterlist (catch up with the series here!)

request guidelines (yes i am taking them!)

pairing: draco x reader

request: no! this is my original idea 

summary: american high school senior is in for a surprise when her family takes on a foreign exchange student with a mysterious past.

warnings: teen drinking, mentions of an armed robbery, language, a brief hospital visit, and descriptions of illness

a/n: hey. so. this is definitely where stuff starts to go down. thanks so much for waiting...i have so many more things planned for this series and i’m thrilled to see it come together the way that it is right now. thank you very much for reading and thank you for your patience!

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @icintliviinyiniilsiji @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 6k

song recs: 

murders - miracle musical

pink in the night - mitski

always, forever - cults

ice dance - ashton gleckman

enjoy!

Y/N should’ve felt cold when she awoke on the wet pavement. Despite a figure looming over her and blocking out most of the rain, the back of her neck and body was drenched in the cool water from the puddle to her right. It was easily in the mid 40s at this point in the evening, something that would ordinarily make her toes curl and her figure tremble, but it felt...different.

She felt like her insides had been scorched, like she’d downed an entire pitcher of boiling hot water. Every movement she made hurt--right down to wiggling her fingertips and her eyes. Her body was exhausted. If she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought that she’d just finished running a marathon in hell.

“Can you hear me?” A posh British voice cut through her musings as the figure above her came into focus. 

Draco.

“Yeah. Was there a fire?” Her words left her throat painfully, scratching their way up her vocal chords. 

“Er...what do you remember?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. The memories of the night slowly began trickling back--she’d done Draco’s tie, told him to watch his drink, argued with Chad about how funny he was, and walked to...Oh, yeah. The antique store. The box. The stars inside of her.

She flinched. “I fainted. I’m sorry. That was really stupid of me.”

“What?” Draco shifted back, the light from the front of the antique store catching his face. There were lines in his forehead that she’d never seen before. “Why?”

“I didn’t eat enough today,” said Y/N. Speaking was starting to feel less and less like lighting her trachea on fire. “I was really nervous and I lost my appetite. I’m an easy fainter.”

He cleared his throat. “Er, okay. Yeah. That was it. Anyways, we have to get home. You need to, uh, eat.”

“Okay.”

Y/N allowed herself to be hauled up onto her feet, swaying slightly once her full weight was on her feet. Her sense of gravity felt like it had been loosened. With every step, she felt pulled to the ground from a different part of her core.

“Steady. Don’t fall.” By some miracle, once Draco’s hands were gently guiding her shoulders, she was able to make her way to the backseat of Heather’s car before she collapsed.

“Where are we going?” asked Y/N. Despite no longer feeling like she was near death, her head was still cloudy. 

“Home,” was all Draco said as he slid in on the other side of the car. 

She didn’t bother putting on her seatbelt--she still felt like she was about to keel over--and rested her head on the car window. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco open the passenger car door for a moment, pause, shut it, and instead tug open the door across from her and slide in. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“My insides feel like they’re on fire.” Y/N winced as she tried to shift and get the weight off of her neck. “I think I’m sick.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” said Heather from the front, her eyes catching Y/N’s from the mirror. “You were just laying down in the middle of a rainstorm. Go home and take some Zi-cam or something, jesus.”

Y/N tried to chuckle in response, but it came out as a sorry squeak instead. No one made a move to further comment on the evening’s events as Heather pulled onto the freeway and began to gain speed. The sudden lurches and changes of speed in the car set Y/N’s stomach into a churning frenzy, her head growing light again. 

“Draco.”

Her voice was so soft it was hardly audible--the syllables jumbled together on her lips in a quiet mess--but he immediately snapped to attention.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“For the love of god, at least try and hold it until we get off the freeway.” 

“Shut up, Heather,” said Draco. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the slightest twinge of satisfaction as he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back on her. “Is it the motion? Are you sick from that?”

“I don’t know,” she managed. 

He sighed. “Helpful.”

“Dick.”

Draco frowned at her, but she could see the slightest twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Can you move into the middle seat for me? Do you need help?”

Once Y/N had scooted over from her side, he leaned away from her and pointed up to the sunroof above them. “Go ahead and count all the lights that you can see in the sky. I promise it’ll make you feel better. Just keep your head pointed up.”

She tilted her head back. The night sky was largely gloomy, but the flickering lights of the planes that dove in and out of clouds provided some glowing dots. As she counted, Heather hit the fog strips and nearly threw her back into her original seat. She felt a warm hand wrap around her wrist and gently grip, the long fingers completely encircling it. 

Y/N blinked. The nausea was gone. “What are you, a sorcerer or something?” she joked, not expecting to see Draco so frozen at the comment. “Kidding. I just feel better already. Thank you.”

He nodded and turned away to look out the window. His soft grip on her hand was long gone, and Y/N took Heather’s slightly uncoordinated driving as a cue to slide back into her seat and buckle up.

“If you really need to puke,” said Heather, “I have a Target bag back somewhere under the passenger seat. Please avoid the seats. They’re authentic vegan leather.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“Just don’t throw up, okay?” 

~

Y/N was in Art History when it happened. The chills began, so intense and teeth-chattering that her teacher took one look at her and sent her immediately to the nurse. Sylvia offered to walk her, but she was only allowed to under the condition that she avoid all physical contact with her and sanitized each surface that Y/N touched. It was a wonder she made it to the first floor office--each step felt heavier than the last, and from the beginning she felt moments from simply passing out. 

A temperature check revealed that she had a mild fever--100.3 F, to be exact--and a call home resulted in her mother’s full voicemail box and the remembrance that her parents were out for the week. 

“Can someone else drive you?” Nurse Hazelwood asked as she stepped away to douse her hands in hand sanitizer. “I don’t think you should get yourself home in this state.”

After some deliberation, it was decided that Sylvia would take her home and call someone for a ride back. It was a bit overkill--but she didn’t know what else to do.

“And can you make sure Draco has a ride home today?” Y/N asked as they pulled into the driveway of the Y/L/N home. 

“Stop stressing so much, dude.” Sylvia took the keys out of the ignition to give her an expectant look. “You’re sick. Go inside and make some soup or something. I’m sure your boyfriend will figure it out.”

“Now I really am gonna be sick,” said Y/N as she rolled her eyes. 

The rest of her afternoon was a blur. Y/N tried to force down some chicken soup, but it took all her might to keep it from coming right back up. It was safe to say her appetite was gone. 

After a failed attempt at walking up the stairs to crawl into bed, she collapsed onto the couch. The last thing she remembered was the sound of footsteps outside the front door.

~

Y/N hadn’t been to the hospital since she had to get stitches in middle school. Then, all she did was lie back in the chair and try to shut her eyes as the needle wove in and out of her torn thigh (bad bike accident, in case anyone was curious). But now was different. 

Her eyes hurt to open, like someone had thrown soap in them and the very line where her two lids met were lined with knives. Everything inside of her was on fire--a manic, all-consuming fire that made it impossible for her to keep anything down. 

The nurses and doctors were no help--not like Y/N actually had her eyes long enough to see any of them--but their voices were enough to let her know what was going on.

“Fever of 104--”

“Can’t keep anything down--”

“Severely dehydrated--”

“Tested negative for everything we tried--”

“Never seen anything like this before--”

“No viruses were detected--”

“Not mono--”

As she wove in and out of consciousness, one fact stuck in her mind: I think I might die here. Something is very wrong.

 When she did dream, images of the box she picked up plagued her mind. The symbol, etched lightly into the black top, glowed menacingly in her hands. Open it, open it something around her urged, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t.

It was during one of these dreams that her world suddenly shifted back to her hospital room. She was suspended above her body, looking down at the tangle of IVs and various other wires that imprisoned her...but she wasn’t alone.

The dim lighting and darkness outside confirmed her suspicion that it was indeed late at night. A figure, tall and slim, was sitting to her left. It was whispering something unintelligible as it gently took her hand and squeezed.

If Y/N could scream, she would’ve. The sudden pull back to her body was so strong that she was yanked across the room so she just barely hovered over her corporeal form. She could feel a grip, steady and firm, wrapped around her hand as a rush of cool ran through her. Each breath, each pulse, each heartbeat pulled her back to herself. It felt like a bucket of water had been poured over--into--her, extinguishing the flames that were eating away the inside of her.  

The figure’s whispering finally came to an end as she settled back into her physical body. Before she drifted off to a peaceful slumber, a familiar voice rose above the quiet whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

~

“Y/N!”

Her eyes shot open to see her mother, heavy eye bags and all, standing over her bed. “Hi Mo-”

“You scared me half to death!” Mrs. Y/L/N interrupted, placing her hand on her forehead. “No fever. Thank god. You know, when you were a baby, you were horribly ill with…”

Y/N sat and pretended she was listening as she relinquished in the fact that she was awake, she was here. The fire inside of her was long gone, replaced with the familiar...whatever was there before. Nothing? Maybe. Nothing was good, or at least better than the painful fire. It struck her with a sudden urgency that she had no idea what day it was, much less time. What about her homework? What about her UChicago application? Her counselor was supposed to submit her letter of rec a week ago...or a week ago from whenever she was brought to the hospital.

“Honey, are you even listening?” 

“Uh, yeah,” she said. 

“That’s what I thought. The food here is horrendous--of course you’re excited to go home.” Mrs. Y/L/N took her glasses off to wipe at the lens in a gesture that seemed more habitual and less effective. “You poor thing. Your father is still in New York--John simply couldn’t have him leave--but he’ll be back as soon as he can. Let’s get you out of here.”

The next few hours were a strange blur of paperwork, changes of clothes, and a bag of medication. The nurses and doctors were bewildered at her miraculous recovery and expressed this at every chance they had on her way out, reminding her to immediately seek attention if she feels anything similar again.

“What day is it?” Y/N finally asked once they were on the way home. 

“Wow, you really were out of it.” Mrs. Y/L/N flicked her blinker on as she merged onto the freeway. “Sunday. You were there almost a whole week.”

“Huh? What about school? Do my teachers know? How did Draco get to school? Is he ok?”

“Of course your teachers know, hun. They’re all being very forgiving with their late work policies. As long as you’re putting effort into learning the material you missed, they have no problem letting you skip out on the homework. As for Draco...I think he’s fine. Sylvia’s family took him under their wing for the week. He’s still alive.”

And such a statement was proven when Y/N walked through the front door. Draco shot up from his seat at the living room couch the moment they locked eyes, his hands wringing back and forth.

“You’re okay.”

“You’re okay too,” she responded airily. “When I wasn’t dying I was worrying myself about how you’d do without me. I see my fears of you walking into moving traffic didn’t come true, thank God.”

His lips, tight, offered her the slightest upturn. 

“Y/N, dearie, no need to harass the boy,” her mother said. “Up to your room. I’ll bring you some soup in a moment. You need to rest, young lady.”

She sent one last teasing grin at Draco before she was ushered up the steps, her mother fussing over her the entire way. 

~

“So,” Sylvia said, crossing her legs over the other and giving Y/N a wicked look, “Consider this your last formal invitation to my Halloween party. It’s this Friday. It’s not even the night before the ED deadline. You should go.”

“I don’t know, Vy,” said Y/N. Her art history notes lay untouched in front of her as the teacher droned on about something related to how mannerism as an art style came to fame during the...Reformation? She didn’t know. “I’m kind of tired. I feel bad about leaving Draco alone, too.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Will you just do us all a favor and admit that you like him? It’s getting exhausting. Just ask him to come with you.”

“You’re absolutely off your rocker if you think I’m gonna do that,” Y/N said. 

“I’m just saying, you’ve done weirder things. Like almost dying from...literally nothing.”

“Hey, hey, don’t be rude. I’ll think about it but no guarantees. I don’t really think Draco is the partying type, though.”

“I’d be careful about making such a wild assumption. You never know what goes on in those posh private British schools for rich kids or wherever he went.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Her friend laughed. “No. Just an optimist.”

Y/N swung the sleeve of her cardigan at her, whacking her pretty good on the bicep. If Sylvia was bothered by it, she didn’t show it. “Fine. I’ll ask him as a friend.”

“Pansy.”

~

Y/N was never the type to enjoy background noise as she worked, but there was something nostalgic about hearing the identical voices of her local news anchors in the room over as she sat at the kitchen table and worked on a last minute Physics review set. 

“Hey loser,” she called out as she saw a head of blond hair pass by her to get to the kettle. “Care to join me?” 

Draco turned, his mouth open and ready to issue a retort before he appeared to change his mind. He’d been oddly distant lately, avoiding her in the common spaces they often saw each other and choosing to get breakfast and his evening tea at times that he knew she wouldn’t be down in the kitchen for. Perhaps that was the reason why she was sitting at the kitchen table at present, but of course she’d never admit that. Not even to herself. 

“Can’t. I’m a bit busy with work.”

“Draco,” she chided. “What work is it? I can help you, you know.” 

He paused for a few seconds, taking in the scatter of papers on the table and the nearly complete review sheet. “The Physics review is taking me a bit of time,” he said, his tone forced and resigned.

“Go grab it!” She grinned as his scowl deepened. “If you’re nice I’ll let you copy.”

She lost track of time as they went over his work, his pencil marks filling the page with symbols that were unfamiliar to her.

“Your handwriting is really nice,” she noted. “Like, so nice that I feel like you could really make it as a study youtuber or a study blogger or whatever. You have that potential if you want to tap into it, dude.”

“I have no idea what that is,” he said neatly as he punched an equation into her calculator. 

“Fair.”

She sat still for a few more moments, watching as her study partner’s chest rose and fell with each breath he took. Sylvia’s Halloween party was just a few days away, and she needed to ask him at some point. Every time she mustered up the courage to open her mouth and hitch her breath, the words would die on her tongue. 

The silence weighed heavy in the air as the words of the news anchors floated over…”multiple reports of an armed robbery….suburbs surrounding Cincinnati...cautioned to lock doors...potential link to the missing persons case…”

“Draco,” she said finally. He jolted up from his work to gaze at her. His eyes were probably the prettiest things she’d ever seen--all pale and metallic and silvery. “Uh, I’m going to this Halloween party this Friday. You should come with me, it sounds like it’ll be fun. I think that Heather will be there.”

Y/N mentally groaned at her admission to Heather’s attendance but didn’t know what else to say. She wanted him to come--even if it was so he could spend the whole time being woo-ed over by her.

“Er,” he began, twirling his pencil around his fingers. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Homework, you know.”

“Just finish it before--That’s what I’m doing.”

“I think I’m go--”

The slam of the front door made both of them jump, scattering Y/N’s long forgotten work and threatening to knock Draco’s mug over.

“Hi kids,” Mrs. Y/L/N greeted as she entered the kitchen, an armful of grocery bags in tow. “Studying?” 

“Yeah,” Y/N answered. “By the way, Mom, Sylvia invited me over to her house on Friday for a sort of Halloween get together. Can I go?”

Her mother was silent for a few moments as she methodically unpacked the paper bags on the counter. 

“I don’t see why not. Is Draco coming too?”

“No,” he replied before Y/N even had the chance to open her mouth.

“I don’t think you should be home alone at night, my dear,” said her mother. “Have you seen the news? There’s someone on the loose. I’d feel much better if you were with Y/N--Robert and I are going to an auction that night. We won’t be around.”

“I’ll be fi--”

“If Y/N is going, you’re going,” Mrs. Y/L/N said as she finished unloading and brushed her hands off on her thighs. Her no nonsense demeanor rarely showed itself, but when it did, she was difficult to argue with. 

Y/N shrunk down in her seat as Draco sent her a sour look. 

Sorry she mouthed. If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

~ 

“Remind me again why we’re walking?” 

Draco’s snotty tone carried through the crisp fall air as they neared the street that Sylvia lived on. 

“Because,” said Y/N, “Quite frankly, I don’t think I can get through being in an enclosed space with Heather for an entire night without being at least a little buzzed. And I’m not gonna have you drive us home.”

“Hmph.” His dress shoes, odd pointed tips and all, kicked at the fall leaves below them. His costume was literally nothing different than what he wore when he arrived--a crisp white dress shirt, an oddly cut blazer, and a weird looking green and silver pin attached to his lapel. 

“If anyone asks,” she had told him from the hallway as they were getting ready to go that afternoon, “Just say you’re a corporate rat or something.” 

He’d snorted at her choice of clothing--a completely dark brown set up with a picture of a shoe taped to her chest. 

“I’m the shoe that that Iraqi reporter threw at Bush,” she had explained. 

He just stared.

“If you aren’t having fun, please just let me know,” Y/N said as they turned one of the last corners. “We can tell her our fish died or something. Sylvia would totally understand.”

“We don’t have a fish.”

“I know, genius,” she teased, giving him a little punch. Instead of balking, he just crinkled his nose. “But she doesn’t.”

“I think she does.”

“You’re missing the point. You’ll tell me if you want to go back home, promise?”

“I want to go home.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.” 

He grinned as they waited for Sylvia to open the door. 

The next few hours were a bit of a blur. Y/N didn’t drink much at first--maybe the equivalent of 2 or 3 shots, spaced out in between a couple of sips of water--but the energy in Sylvia’s home definitely had her more buzzed than usual. There was something about her home that always felt twice as spooky, a type of underlying energy that pulsed at the seams. 

To her surprise, Draco actually took a cup of whatever Sylvia offered him and downed it. She laughed when she saw him finally lower the cup as he furrowed his brow at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

His features looked softer in the dim lighting of Sylvia’s living room--all the tension that he carried in his shoulders and face seemed to be gone. When he smiled at her, it was all she could do to keep herself from disintegrating into the couch.

As the night wore on, Y/N felt herself getting progressively more tipsy, and, in her haze, she could see that Draco was going down a similar path. He was touchier than she would have expected--hanging onto her elbow or sleeve whenever Sylvia or Y/N said anything funny, not moving his leg when her thigh was pressed against his, stretching his arm out behind her and resting it on the back of the couch--and she found herself wishing she was sober enough for it to feel real. Maybe she was so drunk that she was imagining it all. Maybe she was actually asleep next to her toilet at home after throwing it all up and was just dreaming. 

“Fuck!” Someone exclaimed, prompting her to look up. Abby, a girl she kind of knew from her grade, had spilled the entirety of her drink on the coffee table.

“Y/N,” Sylvia whined, “I’m too tired to get the paper towels. Will you and Draco go?” 

Despite the half-hearted protests from Draco, she managed to haul him up by his arm as she pushed back the pleasure that Sylvia saw them as a sort of team, a sort of unit.

“I think she keeps the extra paper towels in her pantry,” she told him as they made their way over to the quiet part of the house. The light hanging over the kitchen island was on, but the rest of the room was bathed in darkness. 

“Right he--”

Y/N froze as she saw it--or, as she would come to discover, them. 

Heather and Chad stared back at them, looking much more disheveled than one is permitted simply sitting on the kitchen counter. It was hard to make it out clearly, but Heather’s cheeks looked flushed. Chad’s matched.

“In a fucking kitchen? Chad, I thought you were better than this,” Y/N said, turning and grabbing the paper towels from the cabinet behind them. “Get a room, you weirdos.”

Chad laughed, a short lived and awkward sound. 

Once they were back out in the living room, Y/N tossed the paper towels to Sylvia. “I think we’re gonna head back. We have to walk, you know.”

Sylvia dramatically threw herself back onto the couch. “I suppose. Thanks for coming guys, it was nice to see you outside of class again.”

“Likewise!” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked out of the door with Draco by her side.

The walk home was silent for the first few moments. Despite the fact that it was late October, the night was pleasantly crisp and not too cold. The only sources of illumination were the scattered street lights, casting a soft orange hue on the two.

As they turn the corner onto the main street, Y/N’s shoe caught on a crack in the pavement in a movement that would’ve sent her sprawling face-first into the cold concrete if it hadn’t been for Draco’s hand grabbing her own and yanking her back up.

“Thanks,” she said. His hands were warmer than usual despite the coolness of the air.

He just sent her a small smile as he untangled their fingers and placed his hand back into his pants pockets.

“Weird to see Chad and Heather, right?” Y/N nudged him with her shoulder. To her surprise, he nudged back.

“I guess. I thought it was obvious, though.”

“What?! No way.”

“Are you blind? Heather’s been all over Chad,” he said.

“Are you? I thought she was obsessed with you!” 

“No, definitely not.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, turning to look at him. The dim glow of the streetlights made his hair look almost like a halo. “She wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Dunno.” Draco shrugged. It was then that Y/N remembered how much he’d had that night.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re probably not in the right mindset to be analyzing other people right now,” said Y/N. 

His lips twitched upwards. “No, no, it’s ok. I’m fine. I just couldn’t be bothered over the whole ordeal. Entirely uninspiring, I think.”

“You’re such a nerd, even when you’re drunk,” teased Y/N. “It’s honestly a wonder that you spent the first month near failing physics.”

“Sod off.” He nudged her again, hard enough to make her sway. “You’re the one who’s still an insufferable smartass. I figured drinking would make you more tolerable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” she muttered as she shoved him back. “You know you love me.”

He froze in the middle of his retaliatory shove, his hand rested on her forearm.

“Sarcasm, king,” said Y/N. “I don’t mean it. I wouldn’t blame you if I were right, though. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m quite the commodity.” 

“Oh, yes, most certainly.” His tone was dripping in faux genuity as he gave her a gentle push. 

As he was doing this, Y/N grabbed the offending arm and took him down with her, landing in the soft garden bush in poor Ms. McCoyle’s front yard.

“Gotcha!” she cheered as he frowned from his spot on top of her. It took all her might to ignore the fact that his face was inches away. “It’s just my smart physics brain at work.”

 “Your neighbor is gonna kill us.”

“She can try.” 

Draco sat up, grabbing her hand and hauling her to her feet. She took the opportunity to hang onto the sleeve of his coat as a sneaking suspicion overtook her that things wouldn’t be like this again without the clever excuse of intoxication. 

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Y/N let go of his sleeve to look up at his face in confusion. She followed his eyes, suddenly hardened with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, to their house at the end of the street.

“You shut the door behind us, right?” Draco asked.

“And locked it.”

Their front door, hanging wide open and swinging in the breeze, told a different story.

~ 

Sobering up was easy once the police sirens showed up and searched their house. Y/N could tell the responding sheriff knew they’d been drinking, but since they weren’t driving and were speaking clearly, he didn’t mention anything.

“We’ve searched the house,” he told them as they sat together outside on the curb. “It looks like it fits the profile of the other armed burglaries in the area, but nothing was taken this time. The bedroom that looks out into the garden is completely trashed--it seems like the suspect was looking through your things for something. The bedroom across the hall was displaced a bit, but nothing compared to the first.” He took another look at his notes, adjusting the thick rimmed glasses that were perched on his nose. “You kids are lucky. Whoever this is means business. There’s unfortunately not much we can do except set up a patrol to watch over the street for now. Please give us a call if you see anything or hear anything.”

They nodded. Y/N had placed a call to their parents while they waited a safe distance from the home for the police to arrive. She’d been shaking as she pressed their number into her phone, and Draco, to his credit, rested his hand on her thigh.

“We’ll be fine,” he’d said before retracting it. “Don’t worry.”

Draco seemed considerably calm for someone experiencing a home break in in a foreign country as they made their way into the house. The first responders had left the lights on, and the wash of LED bulbs did nothing to hide the disturbance of her bedroom. Everything of hers was thrown into the middle of the room from her drawers, closet, and dresser. Her laptop, open and plugged in, was left completely untouched.

“Draco,” she said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends, what is it?” 

Y/N noted that he was getting considerably paler as they stood in her doorway. “I don’t think I can sleep here. Knowing what happened. Especially when it’s still a disaster.”

“Understandable.”

His features looked hardened again, like he’d gone through a filter of seriousness. She decided that this was probably her last chance to ask for any act of intimacy before the effects of alcohol dissipated in his system. “And I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“Er...Oh.” He stared at her. “What?”

“I know that this is really awkward, but can I, like, sleep on your floor or something? Just for tonight.” When she swallowed her throat felt painfully dry. “I don’t snore or anything. It’ll be like I’m not even there.”

Draco sucked in a long breath, casting his eyes up to the ceiling. Y/N wished she knew what he was thinking about. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Thank you thank you thank you,” she sang, darting into her room to grab a blanket and a pillow as he watched wordlessly by the doorframe.

The walk to his room was dead silent except for their sounds of shock when they saw the broken glass in the middle of the floor. 

“I think that was from the picture frame,” Y/N said as she carefully walked into the middle of the room. Sure enough, a framed photo of her and their late dog that had been left on the wall was face down on the carpet. 

“Is this when you ask me to sleep in my bed, too?” quipped Draco as he sidestepped the wreckage and sat on the opposite side of the queen mattress.

“Um...we can make a pillow barrier so we don’t touch.”

He rolled his eyes and tossed his blazer over his chair as he took off his shoes and buttonup, leaving nothing but his undershirt and dress pants. “I’m going to get changed. If you’re asleep before I get back, this is me saying goodnight.”

With that, he grabbed something from his dresser and walked into his bathroom, Y/N ripped off the picture of the shoe and placed her phone on the bedside table. Before she knew it, she was completely passed out.

~ 

It was barely dawn when she next woke up. Her head was heavy--no doubt the beginnings of a hangover--but she’d never felt more electrified.

A small huff prompted her to look to her left where Draco was just a few movements away from her. He was very clearly still sleeping, each breath leaving his lips with a whisper. His hand, draped over the covers, was millimeters away from touching her. The pink of the sunrise made his hair, now ruffled and sticking up in the side, glitter in the light. She resisted the urge to reach out and brush it away from his face.

Y/N lay there, admiring the boy sleeping next to her, until the urgency of her situation struck her. She was absolutely parched, and if she wanted to mitigate the damage she’d already done, it was in her best interest to drink a glass of water and take 4 Ibuprofen. 

With a sigh, she quietly slid out from under Draco’s covers and made her way to her room, careful to avoid the glass scattered all about. She knew she had a packet of Ibuprofen somewhere in one of her dresser drawers.

The pile in her room was bigger than she remembered. She began by just throwing her clothes that had been on the ground onto her bed, sorting through everything in rough categories. When this proved unhelpful, she turned to the mini pile by her door which, to her surprise, had a few sweatshirts that definitely weren’t hers.

Draco she thought absentmindedly as she combed through the pile. Aha. A small green pouch, just like the one she kept her over the counter medications in.

Her hands struggled to undo the tie--Did she normally knot it like that?--as she admired the lining. She never noticed that the edges had silver thread stitched in. 

Once she finally opened it up, she grabbed her water bottle and prepared to be faced with a variety of pill bottles as she tipped it over; however, what came out was very different.

A collection of letters. Namely, Draco’s. She knew it was wrong, but he was sleeping, and every letter looked official, stamped with a seal and etched with some sort of crest. They couldn’t have been that personal.

After a bit of bargaining, she decided to open one. If it was personal, she made the deal with herself to put it away and never speak of it again. 

The parchment was heavy and clearly expensive. Her hands were shaking as she unfolded the first one, feeling guilty the whole way.

Foreign words flooded her vision. It wasn’t like the letter was written in a foreign language--but there were so many terms she didn’t understand. 

Death eater...Voldemort...Crimes against the ministry...Conspiracy against Dumbledore...Hogwarts-sanctioned punishment...

She read on until a word popped out that made sense--Magic. And there it was again--Magic. Wizard. Magic.

Swallowing hard, she shoved the letter back into the envelope and opened one more. This one was much more coherent.

“Dear Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy:

       It has been made apparent to us that, while serving the punishment of your accused crimes, you have unlawfully used magic (namely, a Glamour spell) in front of a muggle. Consider this to be your first strong warning. One more slip up and the Ministry will be forced to reconsider your dropped sentence of Azkaban.

Sincerely and warmly,

The Ministry of Magic -- Justice Sector”

What. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Her racing mind was put to a screeching halt at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. 

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x oc #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy

[kirishwima]

May I have a request a finding out that the MC finds out that they are pregnant with RFA +V, V's is with Lucy?

yes, i love this prompt! however for V, I’d rather have Lucy still be their adopted daughter-changing the way she came to be their child doesn’t sit right with me, I hope that’s okay :)

I’ll use she/her pronouns for MC, but if you’d like me to change them then feel free to let me know <3

YOOSUNG:

* Knowing how much of an over-excited mess he’d become at the news, MC waited patiently for him to be done with work for the day, come back home, take a shower and finally come to flop down on the couch besides her, leaning his head on her shoulder.

* This was their usual routine, finding some time before bed to talk about their day, plans for tomorrow and what not. MC gently ran a hand through Yoosung’s hair, toying with the blonde curls. “So...I’ve got some news” she started, biting at her lip.

* Yoosung hummed, already dozing off on MC’s shoulder, blinking back the sleepingess as MC nudged him off her shoulder. “Baby come on, I think you’ll want to be awake to hear this” she laughed, teasing him as he stifled a yawn.

* “You’re saying there’s something more important than a full 8 hours of sleep?” he asked, fully aware of the irony-how in college he’d go nights without sleeping a minute to game, to the present, where he can’t function properly without a minimum couple hours of sleep before work.

* MC hummed, pretending to think as she tapped a finger to her chin. “Let’s see...would knowing you’re about to become a dad be important enough?” 

* She smiled, raising a brow as she saw the range of emotions running themselves over Yoosung’s face. Shock, confusion, excitedness-his mouth agape, eyes wide and teary. 

* “You-what-we-who-we-baby?!” he jumped off the couch, pointing to MC’s stomach as she bit her cheek to contain her giggles at his over-exaggerated reaction.

* “Yes Yoosung”, she affirmed, nodding down to her own belly, “there’s a baby right there. How...how do you feel about that?” despite the shaky grin on his face MC was still hesitant, worried how Yoosung might feel once this excitement wears off. Sure, they ocassionally discussed future plans, but never to great lengths, and it’s normal to freak out in such a situation and-

* “Are you kidding me?! We-MC we’ll be parents! Omigosh I’m-” he fell to his knees, leaning forward to lean his head into MC’s lap, his hands on her thighs gripping tight. 

* Gingerly he looked up, gently bringing a palm to rest on her lower abdomen. 

* “Hi baby” he whispered, not caring if the baby was old enough to hear him through the womb or not. He’d be sure to study all that later. “I’m-I’m your dad. I can’t wait to meet you buddy...”

* Honestly....both he and MC teared up at that. Neither of them really expected it, but they both couldn’t wait to be parents. 

ZEN:

* MC had taken a pharmacy test that came back negative, but her period was still running late. Confused, she decided to book an appointment to her gynecologist as soon as possible, worried what the implications of this may be. If not pregnancy, then what...?

* Zen had come into the room the moment she’d been on the phone, booking an appointment for the following week. He raised a brow as he heard her, but she simply smiled, holding up a finger as a cue for him to wait a moment.

* “Babe, what’s up? Everything alright?” he asked as soon as she hung up, coming close to wrap his arms around her waist.

* “Mm, yeah just, my period’s late and uhm-” she hesitated, unsure of how to continue. Quite frankly, she wasn’t sure of what was going on either, so how was she to explain it to Zen?

* She felt his grip around her waist tighten, his breath hitching. 

* “Wait-does that mean-could you be...?”

* She turned around to face him, not surprised to find pure glee on his face-they’d discussed their plans for the future before, and they both had agreed they’d wanted to start a family together, just never decided on the when.

* MC smiled, running her fingertips across Zen’s knuckles. “I don’t know. I really don’t, but I guess we’ll find out once I go to the doctor” she shrugged.

* Zen hummed, leaning his head atop her shoulder. “Next week right? Tell me the time, I’ll make sure to make time to come with you.”

* “Wha-Babe you don’t have to-” MC started before Zen cut her off with a quick peck on the lips and a wink as he twisted her around to face him.

* “Shush. Whatever the doctor tells you, I’ll be there with you, and we’ll face it together. Always” he said, his smile softening. 

* And as a man of his word, Zen was there with her at MC’s appointment, holding her hand as her gynecologist took an ultrasound probe and looked knowingly at the screen, turning to face MC and Zen with a smile.

* “Congratulations you two”, they smiled, both Zen and MC turning to the doctor with wide eyes, “you’re about 5 weeks pregnant!”

* Now, if anyone asks, he won’t admit it, but did Zen jump up and down in that examination room, screaming and giggling like a kid? Did he cry and lean down to kiss MC, who was currently stuck with an ultrasound probe inside her and a little unable to cheer as excitedly with him? Did he have to clear his throat and apologise to the doctor who had to hide their laughter behind a cough? 

* Yes. Yes he did. 

* He’ll talk to MC’s belly non-stop, will be there for EVERY appointment and ultrasound, will cry when he first hears his baby’s heartbeat or sees the first 3D ultrasound. He’ll do every single bidding of MC, from weird cravings to holding her when the morning sickness hits, just 100/10 the best partner and father.

* Plus the first thing he teaches his kid is to never ever call Jumin ‘uncle’ :’)

JAEHEE:

* Okay listen, there’s a little backstory here that I can add thanks to my current weeks of working at an ObGyn and Fertility clinic;

* So Jaehee and MC, after establishing their coffee shop and having it run well for a few years, decided they were ready to take the next step and start a family together. However, there were many limitations when they tried to adopt a child, so they researched other options, and found that a single woman, can in fact, receive a sperm donor and an IUI (In Utero Insemination-just fancy terminology for ‘putting the sperm in the womb with a tube!), without too much of a hussle. 

* So they opted for this option. They sat through the paperwork together, mutually decided who it’d be who’d try and get pregnant-they both had no quailms about it so they kind of decided over rock-paper scissors lmao, and so the process began.

* However, even with modern day medicine, pregnancy in such means isn’t 100% guaranteed; in fact, the chances are about a little over 40%. So after the procedure the two worried, hoped luck would find them and they’d be able to start their own little family.

* A couple weeks after the procedure, Jaehee was manning the coffee shop whilst MC took a break back home to come take over the evening shift later on. It was a quiet day, not many people in the shop save for a few of their regulars and a couple friends, their cat Cocoa who’d now become the cafe’s mascot strolling around like she owned the place.

* Everything was peaceful...until MC came running, the bells over the front door jingling manically as she slammed it open and ran to the counter Jaehee had been standing at.

* MC panted, leaned on the counter to catch her breath as Jaehee fretted over her, a million worst-case-scenarios running through her brain.

* “MC? What-what’s wrong, what happene-”

* Before she could speak MC lifted her head, a huge grin on her face. “Jaehee. Baby we did it! We’re pregnant!”

* Jaehee was, for the first time in forever, at a loss for words, her lips slack, her hands dropping to her side as her brain short-wired. “We-we are? You took a test? You?”

* MC nodded along to Jaehee’s line of half-questioning half-realising, laughing as tears welled up in Jaehee’s eyes. She ran across the counter to MC, meeting her half-way into a crushing hug as they laughed and cried together. 

* “We’ll have a baby” Jaehee whispered into the crook of MC’s neck, the wetness of her tears pooling into the cusp of skin.

* “Yeah. Yeah we will Jae” MC nodded along, stroking soothing circles into Jaehee’s back.

* They were lost in their own little world...before the sound of clapping brought them back to the present.

* Of course the few customers in the shop had heard and seen everything, and both their regulars and their friends were eagerly cheering them on, some even whistling and yelling ‘congratulations’ at the two who were now a blushing mess.

* Even Cocoa the cat came by to meow at them, as if to say ‘eh, whatever, congrats I guess’ which was....probably the nicest thing this cat has ever done for them lmao

* And that’s the story of how their coffee shop had now become famous for the ‘super mom duo’ that runs it hehe

JUMIN:

* If you think this man wouldn’t get emotional over finding out he’ll be a father you’re a) WRONG b) REALLY WRONG and c) GOTTA PLAY HIS ROUTE ALL OVER AGAIN

* Will he be scared? YES! He’ll be stressed, but listen-it’s probably not for the reasons you’re thinking.

* When MC announces her pregnancy to him, it’s not over a candle-lit dinner or whilst lounging on the couch. Nah, this man is observant af, especially when it comes to the person he loves.

* He noticed her coming home with a pharmacy bag after work and frowned, instantly wondering what its contents were.

* “MC, you seemed in perfect health today, is something wrong? Should I call a doctor?”

* MC was quick to reassure him that no, she was fine, but was hesitant when explaining that her period was running late, worried how he’ll take the news-sure, they were married, but they never really explicitly discussed the potential of having kids and a family, she didn’t know how Jumin would react to it.

* “I see” he nodded, “You did seem worried, I was hoping you’d eventually talk to me about it. So you’re taking a pregnancy test? If it’s alright with you, can I wait outside for you to tell me the results?”

* If anyone else were to hear the conversation, it might seem like Jumin was cold, distant even. But MC could tell the little incantations in his voice, how his eyes gleamed, his mouth twitching at the corners-he was hesitant, yes, but also excited. And to be honest...so was she.

* So Jumin waited, his arms folded and foot tapping anxiously on the floor as he leaned on the wall right next to the bathroom door, holding his breath until he heard the door open, seeing the little stick MC held in her hands, how her shoulders shook as she looked down at it.

* “W-what does it say?” he asked, fearful of looking down at the test himself-he doubts he’d be able to understand it even if he did.

* “It’s-it’s positive. Jumin it’s-if this is right then I’m pregnant” she looked up to him, eyes welling up with tears. Jumin sighed, unable to contain a smile from forming on his own lips as he wiped away MC’s tears, holding her face in his palms.

* “We’ll book an appointment with a gynecologist first thing tomorrow, but if it’s true then...MC, I’m happy. I truly am.” He said, knocking his forehead with hers. 

* She let go of the test, put her hands around his back, feeling the soft shake of his body as he took in the new information. It was a shock to them both, but together, they’d be able to prepare for it. However...

* “Jumin...? Are you truly happy?”

* He leaned back, smiling down at her. “If I were the same person I was before I met you-before I fell in love with you...I wouldn’t be. Then again, I never would’ve been in this predicament if that were the case, but regardless, back then I would’ve worried that the woman coming to me with a child of mine would seek out only money and fame, not to give the child the love and nurturing it needs to grow up well and safe.”

* He let his eyes flutter shut, opened them again as he looked on, shakily bringing a hand down to MC’s abdomen. 

* “With you....with you I know it’s a child that’ll grow up loved, cared for. We’ll raise them together, and they’ll get to grow up as a child, not as a tool. That’s...that’s all I want for our child. To grow up loved, happy.”

* So...yeah. He’ll be scared, and boy oh boy the first time MC gives him his child to hold he’ll be so scared but also so happy I think it’ll be the first time Jumin Han will cry with joy, but overall? He’ll be one dang great father

SEVEN/LUCIEL/SAEYOUNG:

* Let’s assume that this all happens well after he finds his brother and leaves the agency-he’s still a hacker, but a ‘white hacker’ or whatever it is they’re called, often-times collaborating with C&R to strengthen their online security, doing hacking tests e.t.c. 

* He’s in a good place, his bond with Saeran is slowly improving, and his love for MC is constantly growing, so the two have had the time to talk about their plans for the future, about what they want and the relative timelines.

* Saeyoung always wanted a family-that much we’re all aware of. But...he never expected he’d be allowed to have one. Now that he’s given the opportunity to start anew he’s excited, but also terrified, waiting for something bad to come right round the corner and take it all away. So to now become a father...he’s not sure how well he’ll handle that responsibility.

* Well, he shares these fears one late night with MC, which...makes it all the harder for her to tell him when the tell-tale signs come up. When her period’s late, when it’s completely gone for one, then two months. When she feels sick in the mornings, nauseous and bloated, why she makes excuses for her odd behavior much to Saeyoung’s dismay.

* In fact, it’s actually Saeran that notices what’s up, quickly putting two and two together since he’s not the one MC is actively trying to avoid. 

* He confronted her about it, and she broke down, explained it all to him, how she’s done more than a few pharmacy tests to confirm her suspicion and they all came back positive, what Saeyoung had told her and why she feels terrified of telling him the truth.

* And Saeran...well, he’s dumbfounded.

* “You...are you really that stupid?” he asks, brows raised. MC can’t help it-even though she was crying whilst speaking to him, her tears stop at the sudden proclamation and she looks up at him wide-eyed. 

* “Listen, I know my brother’s an air-head and all, but do you really think that little of him? That he wouldn’t be over the fucking moon if you told him he’s gonna become a dad?”

* Well......talk about perfect timing, who happened to come back home and walk into the living room at the perfect moment to hear this very last bit of the conversation?

* Yup of course Saeyoung stood there, his keys dropped to the floor as he stared at his twin and his girlfriend, confusion and shock evident on his face.

* None of them spoke for a long moment whilst Saeyoung composed his thoughts.

* Then, with perfect calamity he simply took a deep breath, let his eyes fall shut. “Saeran, can you leave for a bit? I need to speak with MC.”

* Saeran merely nodded, throwing an apologetic look MC’s way before heading out the door, the loud thud alerting MC and Saeyoung to the fact that they were now the only two people in the house.

* The silence was deafening, constricting MC’s lungs like a monster’s tentacles around a shipwreck. 

* “Sae-listen, I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner, I didn’t know how to and I-”

* She didn’t get to finish her words. Saeyoung held a palm up, motioning for her to stop. “How far along are you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, breaths raspy and shaky.

* “...about 8 weeks now” she admitted. 

* Saeyoung took a step closer to her, crumpled onto his knees as he wrapped his hands across her belly.

* “I’m-I’m going to be a dad” he whispered, mainly to himself, a declaration to make himself believe it, “and all I’ve done so far is make you worry-MC, I’m so sorry. I should’ve never, never made you feel like there was anything you couldn’t talk to me about. I’m-I’m worried. I’m terrified but I’m so happy-so, so happy” he mumbled the last words into the fabric of her shirt, hiding his tears on her body.

* MC wrapped her arms around her, stroked his hair as he cried. They eventually found themselves laying side by side on the carpet like a pair of teens wasted at a house party, holding hands as they stared up at the ceeling.

* “...Do you think they’ll be twins?” Saeyoung joked, relishing in the small huff of laughter elicited from MC.

* “I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle another pair of twins in this household” MC teased back, “that’s like...quadruple the amount of pranks” she shrugged.

* They stared at the peels on the paint, content in the silence before Saeyoung propped himself up on his elbows, turning to his side so he could rest a hand on MC’s abdomen.

* “Think it-they-whatever, think our child can hear me?” he asked, trying his best to hide the creeping blush blooming up his neck.

* MC hummed. “I’m not sure”, she admitted, “but I think you should try and speak to them regardless.”

* Saeyoung nodded, taking a moment to compose himself. “Hey baby. Or babies. Or whoever it is in there” he laughed, “um, this-this is your dad. Don’t confuse me with your uncle, otherwise I’ll be super sad okay?!” He rolled his eyes as MC’s belly shook with laughter, waiting for her to calm down before he continued.

* “Listen...I’ve always dreamed of being a dad, and of having a big happy family. I’d tell my brother-that’s your uncle, I’d tell him every day when we were young that when we grow up we’ll live together in a biig house, and we’ll have a toy factory together, and I’ll have a direct line to Santa Claus so I could help him provide gifts to all the kids in the world-and that I’d have my own big family, and that my kids would always get any toy they want, and if that toy didn’t exist, then I’d make it for them. And...and I’ll do that for you too. So if there’s anything you want, start thinking about it, and I’ll make it for you. Anything.”

* He smiled, stroked his thumb across MC’s belly. “I need you to know I love your mom very very much. If she wasn’t here, I don’t think I’d ever be able to dream of having a family and being a dad again. So...so you should know she’s an amazing person, and that I’ll forever be grateful she stumbled into my life, and that she chose me out of everyone else out there.”

* He looked to MC, leaned back down to knock his forehead across hers.

* “Thank you”, he whispered, “thank you for the best gift I could’ve ever asked for”.

V/JIHYUN:

* This happened after the two had adopted Lucy. Their daughter was a bundle of joy, an angel that brought so much happiness to their daily life, that Jihyun could barely even remember the horrors of his past.

* Even if he were to ocassionaly have a nightmare or remember a horrible memory, MC would be there to hold his hand, or Lucy would be there with her big smile and tight hugs, the two chasing all the bad things away.

* Lucy was also equally happy, absoloutely adoring her parents and her uncles and aunt of the RFA-there was only one tiiiny complaint she had...

* “Mommy, daddy? Can I have a baby brother or sister to play with? Pleaaase?” she’d ask, sweetly blinking those big blue eyes of hers as if she was asking for a new toy or a candy, ignoring the awkward looks her parents shared trying to think of how to explain to her that they can’t just...bring a baby sibling to her on demand.

* This led to an awkward talk of the different ways babies come into a family; from the belly into the world, and then into the arms of a loving mom and dad, be it biological or not. Luckily, Lucy never seemed upset about being adopted; the two always worried wether it was right to tell her from such an early age, but Jihyun prided honesty above all else, so the two decided to ease her into the topic, making sure to shower her with love and affection so she’d know that how she came to be their daughter didn’t matter to them at all-they were just happy to have her in their lives.

* But lo and behold; her wish really did come true.

* One day Jihyun and Lucy were in the back garden playing with watercolours, making the white t-shirts they were both wearing a swirling mixtrue of colours. As Jihyun came back inside to wash up, he found MC in their bedrooms’ bathroom, holding something in one hand, the other covering her mouth as if in shock.

* “MC...? What’s wrong, is everything alright?”

* She turned to him, eyes teared up which only added to his worry as he looked down to her hands, finally noticing the stick she was holding.

* Slowly, he put two and two together, his brows raising. “You-this is....are you..?”

* MC nodded, biting her lip as Jihyun gasped, laughed, a quiet huff at first before he burst into a full laughter, tears welling at his eyes as he gripped MC by the waist and swirled her around, holding her tight. 

* Lucy walked into their bedroom at that very moment, peering in curiously at the commotion. “I wanna lift too! Me too!” she giggled, running to her dad with her arms extended. 

* Gleefully Jihyun picked her up, bringing both her and MC close for a family group hug. 

* “Lucy, honey, you said you wanted a baby brother or sister right?” MC asked, stroking her daughter’s hair as Jihyun held her up to their eye level. Lucy nodded furiously, her cheeks red, eyes gleaming.

* “Do you still want one now?” MC continued, biting her lip to stop from smiling. Lucy nodded again. “Yes!! Yes, I do, I want one! And I want to help them drink their milk and put them to bed when they have bad dreams. And when they grow up we’ll play together all the time!” she beamed, Jihyun hiding his grin into her hair as MC nodded along to her daughter’s words.

* “Well baby, you’ll get a sibling soon. Mommy has a baby right here” Jihyun explained, bringing a hand to touch MC’s abdomen, “and when they’re born you’ll be a big sister!”

* Lucy was in awe, staring at her mom’s belly like it was made of gold. “There’s a baby in there?!” she pointed, looking incredulously to her parents. 

* Jihyun nodded, gently leaning down to let Lucy back on the ground. “They’re still very very small”, MC began to explain, “but as they grow you’ll even be able to feel them kick and move”.

* Suffice to say, everyone in their little family was thrilled at the news. Jihyun was worried, ever a worry-rat even when Lucy was a baby, but Lucy was already preparing to be a big sister, insisting on coming along with her parents at every doctor’s visit, asking the doctors a dozen questions each time. 

* As the baby grew and MC’s pregnancy got heavier, she could see the worry plaguing Jihyun, a concern he refused to voice. But MC was no fool-she could tell what it is he was thinking.

* “You know”, she told him one night, as she rested her hands on her growing baby bump, “I wish they’ll have your eyes-that gentle gaze of yours, it’ll be really nice if they inherit it from you.”

* Jihyun sighed at her words, turning on his side to bring a hand over her belly. “I don’t...MC, you know what I fear. I don’t want them to be anything like me I don’t-I don’t want them to go through anything remotely similar to what I did, to be anything like me, like I was, like I still am if I stop trying to change-I want them to have a good life. Them and Lucy..I want them to be happy.”

* MC pouted, gripping Jihyun’s hand, interlacing it with hers. “What you went through didn’t happen because of who you were, only because of the circumstances you were put under. You’re kind-hearted, self-less, caring and gentle, and yes, you put others above yourself and are quick to carry all the burden even when there’s others around you willing to lessen the load. But none of those are bad qualities Jihyun. And improving yourself isn’t a goal-directed process, it’s an open-ended journey. I hope our kids grow up to be like you.”

* Suffice to say, Jihyun was floored. MC had read him like a book, and he knew that, even if he initially didn’t want to admit it. Eventually he laughed, shaking his head. “I love you, you know that?”

* MC rolled her eyes.

* “I sure hope so”, she teased.

I went a ~little~ overboard with these but listen I’ve been doing ObGyn work for nearly a month now so it had to serve as inspiration somehow hehe

-send me mystic messenger headcanons for character(s) reactions!-

#asks #also if u read these and like them pls consider reblogging thx #its rly disheartening to have like 20 likes and no reblogs :-) #mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger prompts #mysme prompts #mystic messenger fics #mysme fics #mysme imagines #mystic messenger imagines #yoosung kim #mysme zen #hyun ryu #jaehee kang #jumin han #707 #mysme seven #luciel choi #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #mysme ray #mysme v #jihyun kim #Anonymous

[nyoschief]

Heart Of The Darkness

This was a Secret Santa that I never posted for @Nikki!

Rating: Mature Characters: John | KryozGaming/Jaren | SMii7Y, Eddie Gluskin Tags: Outlast, Panic Kisses, Secret Santa Warnings: Violence, Minor Character Death, Creepy Motherfuckers Words: 2,135

It’s only when John turns around, looking as though he’d been in a dozen fights and is still ready for another, that Jaren feels hot tears spill over reddened cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry! Are you okay? I—No, you’re not okay.”

{Read here on AO3}

Three simple words keep Jaren quiet. They repeat like a broken record, a mantra that increases with every blood-curdling scream and fresh wave of iron-laden air that floods the damp room. He’ll return once the exit is clear. Shaky hands flatten against rusted metal, taking comfort in the cool chill as he peers into the gloomy area, straining to see human-shaped demons in the shadows.

“Darling!” a sultry voice crows from the right, singing sweet lullabies.

‘No, fuck, not him.’

Every muscle tightens, lungs clenched and breath held, but frantic eyes refuse to close. Pleading cries respond to unnervingly saccharine words. A dull thump preludes a sobbing groan, hoarse and crying with desperation as nails scrabble against moldy tiles.

“What did I say about keeping your stress levels down? No child can be borne like this.”

The stomach-churning memory of mangled bodies cut apart and sewn together, a mockery of a carrying woman, has Jaren silently gagging, a palm covering his mouth and nails cutting into his cheek.

They should never have come here. ‘Abandoned’ mental asylum, his ass! No power doesn’t mean the crazies inside are gone.

“No, no, no, please, please!”

“I warned you and you didn’t listen!”

A wet squelch spills into the air, Jaren choking at the possibilities. His eyes grow wet, face turned against his torn and muddied sleeve.

“Oh?” the man purrs, a childish laugh bubbling beneath. Jaren freezes, swallowing and peering between the metal slits of the locker. “Have my followers… brought me another bride?”

He’s a deer in headlights, a hare hypnotized by a stoat, a hen frozen in fear of a fox. Fingers twitch, useless when his arms can’t even push the door open.

He has no chance when a body slams against the front, jostling him within. Manic eyes stare back at him, lips pulled into a grin. Can’t breathe, can’t scream, can’t move.

“There you are, dear! The perfect gift after… a terrible tragedy.” Yeah, tragedy. He can only imagine the leftovers, the body slit and covered in gore and blood, still warm. Something metal tracks across the front of the locker. “But don’t worry, I’ll fix you up, make your body a welcoming vessel.”

Voice cracking, he lets out a shaky, “Fuck you.” A crazed laugh echoes through the grotesque room, head thrown back as he smacks the rusty locker. Barely illuminated, he looks like a dirtied man from the mall, covered in blood and grime, bowtie falling off. Palms sweating, Jaren smacks his hands against the door, only for the rattle of metal to trap him within. “Let me out!”

“Nooo, no, no, my love, I can’t let you out in this state, you’ll only hurt yourself!” Blood pounds within his ears, rushing like a torrent, an uncontrollable stream. Jaren slams his fist harder against the metal, the growl in his throat fading into a desperate whine.

He’s not getting out of here alive.

A blade scrapes across the locker, barely glistening in the light shining through the window. Jaren shrinks away, knees buckling, ducking down from the slits in the door. He’d rather not have a scalpel in the eye.

“Now, I don’t want to ruin your perfect body,” he begins, voice dropping with warning, “but I will if you keep fighting me.”

Tongue dead weight, Jaren swallows and scrunches his eyes shut. ‘Where is he?’

“Why would I fight you?”

A coo spills forth, hair standing on end and spine rigid. “Much better, sweetheart,” he hums, taking a step backwards. Metal scrapes again on the locker, hinges squealing and revealing the crazed man’s horrifying appearance. It takes every single ounce of self-restraint to stop from running, hands shaking and gaze darting, searching for an escape route. “Look at you, the perfect vessel, don’t you think?”

Jaren’s stomach twists over itself, tightening up like a knotted rope. A shake to every word, he whispers, “Okay.” His stare lingers on the blade in the other’s raw-knuckled grasp, the weapon raising when he takes a shaky step forth.

“You want this, don’t you? Want to become beautiful, to pave the way for our loving family.”

‘No,’ he thinks, ‘I want to leave with John.’

He refuses to let this psycho know of the other’s presence. Fingers crossing behind his back, Jaren hopes to at least have his body recovered before it’s mutilated beyond recognition like the corpses of earlier.

“Okay…”

The hand against his elbow has him jumping, strung taught and on edge. “Come, my love, I’ll show you the way, the truth…”

Movement catches his eye, moonlight glistening against silver.

Jaren snaps his gaze away, movements slow and steady, gaze tracked onto the blade. He needs to get the weapon away, get the scalpel out of his white-knuckled grasp, so John has a winning chance. They won’t get out of this alive if this fucking maniac still has his weapon.

He stumbles.

The man’s face twists into a grimace and he lunges.

Jaren yelps and finds himself slammed backwards against the wall. His head pulses, skull smacking against the tiles as metal stings at his throat.

“Wait!”

“You scared me, darling, you shouldn’t try to escape like that,” he pants, leaning in closer. Nostrils flared, dark eyes soak in his appearance, leaning closer. His stench alone has Jaren swallowing bile, flinching at the hand caressing his cheek. Shaky hands grab hold of the man’s elbow, struggling to keep him at bay, to squirm his way to freedom. The blade digs into his throat, bringing him to a halt as a strangled cry spills forth. “Maybe it’d be better if I just cut out your voice box. Wives are supposed to be seen, not heard.”

Frantic, Jaren rushes to say, “I’ll be quiet, I’ll be quiet, please, I promise.”

There’s a flicker of movement over the man’s shoulder.

Jaren looks for a moment too long.

“What—”

The man twists in time for a grazed elbow to slam into his unsightly face, flinging him aside.

Jaren jumps away, grabbing his own throat, feeling a thin line of blood beneath his palm.

The stumbling form snaps his head up, scowling and frothing with broiling hatred. “How dare you—”

“How dare me?” John spits, backing up and glancing over a shoulder at Jaren. Upon realizing the other isn’t in immediate danger, he glares at the crazy man and huffs, “Stay the fuck away from him!”

“You can’t come between us!” he shouts, posture menacing and looming. The blade in his hand draws attention like a magnet, dragging their eyes towards it as he flicks the weapon within gnarled fingers.

Jaren flinches when the man steps closer, hip bumping into a table laden with jars of intestines. A whimper slips out, capturing both of their attention for a split second.

John positions himself between them, shoulders hunched and fingers clenched, shielding Jaren. The blade raises. John flinches, balancing on the balls of his feet, teeth clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No, no, nothing is as strong as… as the bond we form—”

A boot slams into the man’s shin, dragging a shriek from raw, bloodied lips. Jaren’s head whips to the side, spotting a door and quickly running towards it. He freezes in the crooked doorframe, looking back, spotting John grappling with the bedraggled man, mouth pulled back into a sneer. The silver scalpel wavers, tip nicking at John’s clothing, held back like a snarling dog.

No warning, the man yanks himself away, pulling his arm free, only to slam the blade downwards.

A scream tears free of Jaren’s hoarse throat, the metal sinking into John’s arm, drinking rich scarlet blood.

Wild eyes scan the room, flicking between the garishly cut body on his right to the mess of broken furniture to his left.

Jaren latches onto a metal rod, breath rapid and uneven, yanking it free from the wooden debris.

No hesitation, he runs closer and swings, a sickening crunch filling the air as it connects with the man’s skull. He tumbles to the side, leaving John scrambling free. When he freezes up again, staring at the blood already dripping from the damage he’d caused, John takes the weapon from him and wastes no time in bringing it down directly on the deranged man’s neck.

He falls to the ground and goes limp. Air slides free from rattling lungs as haunted eyes grow dull.

‘Oh god.’

Jaren hiccups, eyes locking onto John, on the fucking handle still embedded in his bicep. Tears well within green-blue eyes, brows furrowed and lips parted. “Your arm,” he gasps, stepping closer, hands raising, only to freeze when he realizes he doesn’t know what to do.

A yell reverberates through the dusty air, a low growl following, filled with hunger and desperation.

John grabs him by the elbow, already yanking him away. It doesn’t matter where they’re going, as long as John’s with him, they’ll be fine.

They’re red-faced and panting by the time the shouting dies down, inaudible. John shoves them both into a shadowed room and slams the rattling door shut. A metal cabinet serves as the perfect blockade, stopping any unwanted visitors from entering their makeshift safe room.

It’s only when John turns around, looking as though he’d been in a dozen fights and is still ready for another, that Jaren feels hot tears spill over reddened cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” he whines, stepping closer and staring through bleary eyes at the weapon still in John’s arm. “Are you okay? I—No, you’re not okay.” Every inch of John is tensed, frozen as he keeps glancing at the door, breathing through his nose. He flinches at the hand on his shoulder, finally meeting Jaren’s watery stare. He’s still ready for a battle, on edge, antsy to keep them both safe. “Fuck, John, your arm, oh god…”

“It’s fine,” he grits out, still standing there with a doctor’s scalpel sticking out of his sleeve, careless of the blood soaking his shirt. Jaren’s instincts are screaming to run, to get away, John’s a threat. But every other part of him is desperate to help, to ease his pain, make him better, and repay his kindness.

Jaren takes hold of his good arm, leading him towards the unsteady table against the wall. “Let’s just… fix it up, yeah? Make it better. We can fix this—” A loud crash from outside has John jolting, pushing himself to his feet, despite Jaren’s attempts to get him seated. “It’s fine, they can’t get in, let me—”

“They’re close—”

“Don’t worry about them—”

“How can I not worry when they’re—”

“You’re bleeding!”

“I can make more blood.”

Fingers snatch hold of greasy hair, snapping John’s gaze towards him for long enough that he can press a desperate kiss against his bloodied mouth. The wildness in his eyes fades, returning to his familiar stare.

Jaren relaxes his hold, eyes flickering to the side.

“You can’t make another you,” he counters.

John licks his lips. “What was that for?”

Jaren backs up, mouth twisting to the side, failing to hide his embarrassment. “You weren’t listening and I—” He swallows. “I’m scared we won’t get out of here and I just—I just wanted to, just once, sorry, I shouldn’t have…” The silence that ensues has Jaren’s fingers itching, staring at the blade which, now that he looks at, isn’t all that deeply embedded into John’s arm. Swallowing, he clears his throat and says, “Let’s get this—”

“Better be more than just once.”

A frown embeds itself on Jaren’s face, blinking at John. He’s met with surprising determination.

He doesn’t even ask before John’s explaining, “We are getting out of here. That better not just have been a once off haha joke.” Jaren doesn’t have a response to that, letting slip a confused little noise followed by an awkward laugh. When he says nothing else, John asks, “You gettin’ this knife outta me or what?”

“Wh—Yes! Yeah, hold on, I…” Jaren fumbles for a moment before shedding his overshirt, figuring it’s cleaner than anything in this place. “Can you—” John grabs hold of the scalpel and yanks it out, a grunt and hiss following. Crimson spurts out, seeping quickly. Jaren gasps and hurries to wrap the fabric around the wound to stop the bleeding. “Fucks’ sake, John.”

A bloodied hand against his chin has Jaren freezing, allowing his head to be tilted upwards until he can meet the other’s gaze. “We’re gonna get out of here,” he states firmly. His hold shifts, resting against the side of Jaren’s face. Warm concern and conviction replace the earlier rage. “We will, I promise.”

The knot of unease wrapped vice-like around Jaren’s heart unwinds, loosened by trust and belief. On his own, no, he wouldn’t believe that, but with John here…

“I know we will.”

#krii7y #kryozgaming #kryoz #smii7y #bbs #writing #fanfiction #outlast #secret santa #nikkitheduck #listen i love horror and stressy times!!! #:D

[sometimesitrytowritethings]

Mountain Man: Part 1

PART 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: You never thought you’d love again. Then Arthur Morgan came into town. Fate continuously has you meeting each other in odd ways, and a troubled past is something you are both familiar with. Perhaps that’s what will make this time different.

Notes: A MASSIVE THANK YOU to @morgans-whore for helping me out with this!!! If you haven’t read their work, please do so immediately. Also goddamn it I WILL figure out how to insert a read more break on mobile if it kills me.

------

Smithfield’s Saloon was a bustling, loud mess when you entered, as was typical for a Friday evening in the small town of Valentine. The place was only a couple of years old, fully built from the timber milled in nearby Strawberry and lit by strategically placed oil lamps, giving it a sepia-toned glow that you could bask in all evening. Several tables were scattered about the sparsely-decorated room, a larger one covered in green cloth currently hosting a nightly low-stakes poker game.

You made your way inside, taking off your light jacket since escaping the mild chill in the air and scanned the room, looking for your friends in the crowd. The piano man was playing one of the four songs in his repertoire, The Arkansas Traveller, as Quentin, the barber, swayed slightly in time to the music at his normal post in the back, beer in hand, and speaking to one of the saloon’s regular patrons. Jon, the old drunk, was sitting at his usual table, downing a bottle of whisky and ranting about something or other. After years of enduring his presence, you had finally been able to tune him out. Jedadiah, the bartender, nodded your way as your gaze wandered past him before serving Tommy, who seemed to already be well into his cups, another glass of whisky.

Dozens of other familiar faces were scattered about the room as you scanned it, finally spotting the two women chatting with two unfamiliar men at the end of the bar. After a rather long week working across the street at Saints Hotel, cooking, running baths, cleaning, and washing a couple of particularly unruly patrons, your good friends Anastasia and Margaret had invited you over to their place of work for a few drinks - on the house.

“Evening Anastasia, Margaret,” you call over the din of piano music, clinking glasses, and loud conversations. Anastasia was a freckled, firey redhead who was almost always getting into trouble. As was typical for an evening on the job, her white chemise was pushed down low on her chest, revealing her ample cleavage to entice more of the men into paying for a night with her. Margaret, on the other hand, was of a slimmer build and had lovely dark brown hair, pulled away from her doe-eyed face. She was always ready to flirt with anyone she sees and crack jokes on the regular, which definitely worked on many a man over the course of her career as a working girl. These women were two of the first friends you made when moving to Valentine with your soon-to-be husband almost a decade ago. They had been working at Keane’s back then, the older saloon down the street, but have since moved to the wealthier spot when it opened a few years ago.

They both look toward you and becon you over. “Hey hun, these handsome gentlemen are Javier and Charles. They’ve just come into town, isn’t that right?” Margaret explained, putting her hand on Charles’s bicep and giving it a flirty squeeze as she batted her lashes.

You gave a small snort and glanced over at the men. The one introduced as Charles had long, dark hair, dark skin, and shining brown eyes. He was very obviously an outdoorsman, slightly bulky and built for spending time in nature, wearing a tattered light blue shirt cinched at the hips by a gun belt. He nodded at you, but said nothing and took a sip of his whisky, eyeing you over the rim of the glass. Javier, on the other hand, took your hand from across the corner of the bar and gave it a quick kiss. Also dark-haired, his was cut significantly shorter and tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, Javier was slightly leaner than his companion, and was dressed in finer clothes - a charmer, no doubt.

They were both very handsome men, indeed, but you recognized Margaret’s tactic from a mile away: butter up the new ones with enough complements, keep them well in their liquor, and they’ll be coming back to you every night for their entire stay. You raised a hand to the bartender, ordering a round of whisky for the group.

“Why thank you, Mariposa,” crooned Javier, picking up the drink and nodding at you over the rim of the cup.

You laughed. “No need to try that with me, I don’t work here,” you teased, raising your glass to him before taking a long drink of your whisky. Jedadiah has given you the higher-quality bottle this time - good. Javier let out a laugh and went back to speaking with Anastasia, leaving you to sip your drink in silence for the time being. The slight burning sensation warmed your throat and then worked its way down to your belly, easing away the stress of the previous week. There really was nothing like a good glass to take the edge off.

As you finished your first drink, the door to the saloon suddenly swung open, drawing the attention of your companions. All four turned to face the new patron, the women leaning against the bar as the two men moved to greet their friend.

“Oh! Arthur!” called Charles, waving his hand towards the bar to summon him over.

“Arthur, come here, come here! Come over here! I want you to meet our friends.” Javier called and moved from the bar to smack his friend on the back. You turned as well, leaning your right side against the bar, drink still in hand, and taking in the handsome new patron.

He was average height, but bulkier than his friends - a powerhouse made of pure muscle. You were sure he could break you in half if you let him. His light brown hair was brushed haphazardly away from his face, which was slightly tanned from days spent in the sun. As you slowly dragged your eyes across his face you noticed two small scars on his chin, where his beard wouldn’t grow. His eyes, an alarming shade of teal, narrowed as he looked over your group, like something was missing.

“Pleased to meet ya,” he drawled, his voice deep and husky, likely from the combination of years on the road and smoking plenty of tobacco. His hands went to his hips, and he looped his fingers through his belt, looking around the room.

Anastasia seemed awestruck and was ready to dive in and cause plenty of trouble to get this man’s attention. The other two could wait for now. “Well ain’t you just the tough as teak mountain man?” she flirted, leaning against the counter and pushing out her chest so her bust was closer to eye-level.

“Oh, you be quiet Anastasia,” Margaret chided, also wanting a bite of the newcomer. “Anyone can tell this one is a pussy cat.” There it was. Margaret had tried one of her usual godawful jokes that somehow seemed to land her a client every time, and you tried your best not to laugh. Instead, you raised your glass to your lips, only to find it empty.

“Exactly!” Javier cut in. You turned to Jeb and held up your empty glass, which he promptly came over to refill. “He’s a pussy… cat. Ain’t that so, Arthur?” This time you did laugh, a very loud and uncomfortable snort that you couldn’t stop if you had tried.

You drew your refilled glass quickly to your lips, trying your best to cover for yourself. The new man glanced your way shortly before turning back to the other two women. If anyone else had noticed, they didn’t say anything.

The new man, Arthur, stepped a little closer to the group, looking your friends up and down. “How much you cost anyway?”

Anastasia, for some reason seemed genuinely offended, shock immediately overtaking her face. “Well ain’t that a nice way to talk to a lady?” she snapped, though you weren’t sure why. She was a prostitute after all.

Arthur leaned closer, an almost manic grin on his face. “Oh, I didn’t know I was talking to a lady…” he teased. You immediately knew what he was up to. He needed his friends alone, and didn’t have the decency to just ask. Luckily, two could play at his game.

Anastasia balked. Sure, she wasn’t a ‘lady’ like those rich women in New York or San Denis, but she deserved at least a modicum of respect. She scoffed angrily and walked off with a grumbled, “excuse me,” pushing her way past the man, before glancing back at you to see if you were coming. You nodded, you’d be with them in a second. There was no need to stay in the bar and drink, you had plenty of liquor back at home. But before you leave, you may as well get the last word with the man who had, surprisingly accurately, insulted your friends.

“Oh, it’s alright, Anastasia,” you called after her, staying in position at the corner of the bar. You pointedly looked Arthur up and down before speaking again. “This one couldn’t afford one of us anyway,” you tossed at him with a wink over the rim of your glass. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you slowly took a drink.

Like a predator preparing to pounce on its prey, he moved slowly toward you, sizing you up. “That so?” he drawled, slowly dragging his eyes from where your feet were crossed at the hem of your skirt, to your hips leaning against the side of the bar, to your chest, where he paused for just a moment.

“Oh, most definitely,” was your response, accompanied by a practiced smirk. You may not have been a working girl in the saloon, but your years offering deluxe baths at the hotel across the street had given you more than enough practice at charming men. Even ruggedly handsome men who were likely to make you weak in the knees like this one.

His eyes snapped back up to yours as you spoke, a matching smirk gracing his lips. “Why don’t we see about that?” he teased, reaching for what you presumed was money in his satchel. If you had thought his voice was husky before, it was nothing in comparison to how it sounded now. Sultry, eager.

Before you could even begin to think of a response, you heard your name being called by Anastasia, who was standing impatiently at the door with Margaret at her side. “Are you coming?”

You felt the heat rise to your face as soon as the moment was over, but magically kept your composure. “Sorry, it turns out that my shift just ended,” you hummed, reaching up to straighten out his collar. Your fingers lightly brushed his skin and you swore he tensed and took in a sharp breath in that moment. Next, you gave him a light pat on the shoulder and started to walk away. You only had to remember not to look back.

Hips swaying, you headed towards the door, stopping briefly to grab your jacket from the coat hook along the way. “See you around, gentlemen,” you called, swinging the door open and stepping out into the cool night air, feeling his eyes on you the entire time. Perfect.

Anastasia and Margaret followed you out in a huff, brushing past another stranger who was staggering up the steps and into the saloon.

The walk back to the local boarding house, where you had been staying with your son for the past few years, was luckily a short one. However, almost the entire 10 minutes were filled with complaints from the other two women about the “uncivilised” and “incredibly rude” man, effectively ruining any hopes you had of continuing a fun evening with your friends.

“It’s such a surprise that he’s friends with those other two. They just seem so sweet, and he’s such a… such a brute!” ranted Anastasia, looking from Margaret to you for confirmation. “He’s got those ruggedly handsome looks, sure but, by god! How dare he talk to me like that! Can you even believe it?”

You wanted to laugh, but held it in. Your friend was already upset, there was no need to make it worse. Luckily, before you needed to say anything, Margaret cut in. “I know! What was he thinkin’? Even insinuatin’ you wasn’t a lady! You are the most ladylike woman in this town, Anastasia,” she rattled on, wrapping an arm around her friend’s shoulders.

You did the same out of solidarity and played with a strand of her red hair. The three of you walked further, arms around Anastasisa’s shoulders. “He just wanted to get his friends alone, you know,” you told her after a few minutes of her angry silence, before moving your hand and squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. “He only said those things because he knows you two already had his friends wrapped around your fingers and they certainly weren’t about to leave,” you further elaborated with a wink to the redhead. Who knows if that was true, but it would most definitely make Anastasia feel better.

She sighed, her shoulders shrugging, and looked wistfully in the distance. “Yeah, I s’pose you’re right,” came her response. “We did have them on the hook pretty quick, didn’t we?”

“Oh, absolutely!” chimed in Margaret with excitement as you reached the large blue house on the outskirts of town. You glanced quickly to the second floor, and spotted your window. It was dark inside. “And it’ll be real easy to reel them in again tomorrow.”

The three of you burst into a fit of giggles as you reached the front porch. You dropped your arm from Anastasia’s shoulders and gave both women hug. “I think Ben is asleep, so I may turn in as well, if you two don’t mind.” The both nodded and hugged you back, saying quiet farewells and making their way further down the dirt road to their own homes.

The door opened with a slight creek as you stepped inside the dark house. It was a rather large house for this area, meant to house several farmworkers at the time it was built. Since then, a hotel and several other larger homes have popped up closer to town, leaving this one nearly empty most of the time. You rented a decent sized room on the second floor, and had done so for nearly five years running. It wasn’t luxury accommodation by any means, but it was away from the hustle and bustle of town, and it was more than affordable on your meager salary. Not to mention, the landlady had been a good friend of your late mother-in-law, and had been happy to offer your family a place to stay at a decent price, in exchange for occasional work around the house. Quietly, stepping over the floorboard that you knew let out a loud squeak when moved, you shrugged off your jacket, listening for the sounds of small footsteps pattering about on the second floor. Nothing.

What you did hear, however, were the sounds of a conversation coming from the kitchen. You walked down the dimly lit hallway to the room, where you found your landlady sitting at the table with a stranger. Your landlady, Ms. Chadwick, an older woman with a perpetually frustrated look on her face, sat in her nightgown, nursing a cup of hot coffee while the stranger looked over a piece of paper that had been laid in front of her on the table.

She was a pretty woman, about the same age as yourself, with dark brown hair neatly plaited down her back and clear, tanned skin, that almost glowed in the lamplight. Her clothes were obviously expensive and well cared for, and a pair of small, matching suitcases sat at her feet. Her nimble fingers with clean, neatly trimmed nails skimmed over the short paragraph on the paper. This was very obviously a woman who had never worked a day in her life. What on earth was she doing in Valentine, of all places?

“Thank you very much for the use of the spare room,” she said to the landlady, her voice boasted a light southern accent, like that of the debutantes in San Denis. “Your home is lovely, and little Ben is an absolute darling. I do so love staying in homes instead of hotels when I can and, of course, I am happy to help out where I can while I am here.”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary dear,” she chided. “Your pay is more than enough. Please relax and enjoy your time here as much as you can. You don’t need any more stress on your shoulders.”

As Ms. Chadwick finished her sentence, the stranger seemed to notice your appearance in the doorway. “Oh!” she exclaimed, though keeping her voice down slightly. “You must be Ben’s mother! It’s wonderful to meet you. Your son and Ms. Chadwick greeted me this afternoon when I arrived, he’s a lovely little boy.” She stood up from her chair, skirts billowing around her ankles, and reached out to kiss both of your cheeks in what you had heard was a customary French greeting.

Although you were slightly taken aback by her forward attitude, the comment about your son brought a smile to your face. “Thank you very much. I like to think I’ve taught him well so far,” your responded, pulling slightly away from the new woman and introducing yourself.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she said, voice sweet and still low enough as to not wake your son, sleeping soundly upstairs. “I’m Mary Linton.”

#Arthur Morgan x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x f!reader #f!reader

[harcourtholmesii]

An Officer’s Loyalty (Part 3)

Pairing: Medic X Reader

Words: 1408

Warnings:

- Swearing

- Some Gore and Body Horror

- Surgical/Medical Situations

- Some Slight Nudity (Half Nudity)

Enjoy!

The cool of the underground seeped through your uniform, even past the extra layer that was Medic’s coat. Probably the most high-tech part of the building, the basement level was a labyrinth of concrete, a dull grey with only a singular, painted red line that ran continuously across the walls on either side. It was quiet for the most part, save for the occasional groan of pipes and the flicker of the lights.

 You had passed by many doors, but hadn’t been allowed to take in your surroundings properly. You had all but lost track of where to go when you passed the sad excuse for a kitchen. Your ‘escorts’, Heavy and Medic, had kept a quick pace as they led you into the depths of your new home. The belly of the beast, if you will.

 Before you had left the billiard room and your interrogation behind, Medic had insisted that he take you to have your surgery completed first.

 ‘Vouldn’t vant to forget und zhen haff jou’re heart explode on zhe battlefield!’

 It had been the first time you had heard him speak in his usual, manic glee since he had first found you and Spy in the mine shaft. It had been unnerving, but you didn’t feel like it was safe to, so quickly, go back on your agreement.

 When he had started guiding you out of the room, Heavy had been quick to follow. You had never seen the two apart for long; perhaps because they had a history before their careers at Mann Co. or when they would have had to learn English for the job. Considering how often Medic’s tongue dipped back into his maiden language, you suspected he hadn’t spoken much English before his work at Mann Co.

 Heavy hadn’t said much at all since you arrived, but he seemed less agitated by your presence. You still noticed how his eyes would occasionally glance at you if you trailed behind, but he didn’t do much more than slow his pace ever so slightly.

 Finally, after too long trying to follow Medic’s quick footsteps, you came to two large doors, with a painted red cross upon them. Medic pushed them open easily and gestured for you to enter. You hesitated, on account that you had been expecting the medical bay.

 Not a bloody slaughterhouse.

 The medical bay still had some utensils here and there; a bonesaw or three, pliers, syringes, and a surgery table with a different kind of medigun attached to the roof, hanging down like some James Bond torture device. The drawers were in a disarray, buckets of blood, bones and feathers dotted the linoleum floor, and an open bird cage filled with pigeons and the occasional bird shit made you feel sick to your stomach. The remnants of the medical bay, surely, were not where you would be having this surgery?!

 Heavy nudged you inside, and Medic moved about the surgery table, going to wash his hands in a bloodied steel sink. Heavy offered you an almost apologetic smile, as he took to sitting by the door and crossing his arms.

 ‘Bitte, haff a seat.’ The German rolled his head to one side, to gesture to the operating table. You let out a scoff.

 ‘You’re kidding.’

 Medic turned to look at you, almost confused by your unwillingness to sit or lay down upon the surgery table. You looked back over the steel table, eyes landing on leather straps at about where ones ankles, wrists and neck might be. You cocked a brow, gesturing to the straps.

 ‘And, what surgery might need those? Or did you run out of anaesthesia?’

 ‘Oh, zhose!’ He almost laughed, the smile returning full force to his face. ‘Das is nozhing! Scout vas just moving around too much during his surgery, so I had zhem installed. Ve don’t haff to use zhem if you don’t vant to.’

 ‘That doesn’t answer my question about the anaesthesia.’

 ‘Ve don’t use it.’

 What?

 ‘I said it before, and I’ll fucking say it again; ‘you’re kidding me?!” You stepped back, closer to the door, your legs shaking. Heavy had stood, but he didn’t seem threatening. He just seemed encouraging. You shook your head. ‘Like Hell I am going to let you cut me open like that! I’d rather be killed!’

 ‘Doktor does not use anaesthesia because it is not common.’

 ‘Excuse me?’ You turned on Heavy, giving him the most furious glare in your arsenal. Too bad that due to your lack of stature, it was nothing intimidating. You would have liked to see the big man show a hint of something other than indifference or great ferocity.

 ‘Vas Herr Heavy means, is das I do not often haff access to anaesthesia.’ You turned your furious glare back on the German, and much like Heavy, he didn’t even blink. ‘Razher zhan using it for all surgeries, I haff zhe medigun dull zhe pain instead, und save zhe anaesthesia for vorse injuries.’

 ‘How are your employers this…’ You dare not finish your sentence. The administrator had cameras everywhere, and you did not doubt that she, or rather Miss Pauling, would find a way to sneak a camera or bug into your opponent’s base.

 ‘And… you expect me to let you cut me open in this…’ You gestured about. ‘… In this mess?’

 ‘Vell, I haff never been too picky, und after zhe first surgery, I haff had few complaints. No one has gotten sick because of it.’ He assured. ‘If it vill make jou feel better zhough, I can keep zhe gloves on.’

 You held back a retch. Your chest had tightened and you felt your lungs compress, as if trying to expel all oxygen. You felt some form of small relief when there was the snap of red rubber gloves, and Medic gestured once more to the table. You looked between Heavy, the way out and the crazed doctor, contemplating your options.

 ‘Do I need a surgical gown?’ The Medic laughed, a great guffaw of something almost sinister. You didn’t join him.

 ‘Nein! Of course not!’

 You stepped hesitantly towards the surgical table and took a seat on the cold steel. You were shaking, goose bumps shuddering their way up and down your skin. You removed Medic’s coat and then, having thought about it, removed your own. The medical bay was even colder than the halls, and you brought your arms around you in a sorry attempt to trap as much heat as you could.

 As Medic approached, you laid down, gripping onto the edges of the table. You didn’t want to give him an excuse to use the straps. Looking up at him, you could swear you had been thrown through time and space and ended up in a Twilight Zone episode. Some creepy, fucked up, science fiction-horror show, where you were the helpless victim. You hated it.

 He reached up, first switching on the red, translucent beam of the medigun that hung above your head. The scarlet, smoke-like tail sunk low and into your chest; you could feel a warmth behind your ribs and a numbness run all across your body. Your fear still gripped as tightly to you as you did the steel table when Medic pulled out the saw.

 He didn’t wait for you to shakily undo the buttons of your shirt, or remove the bandages underneath. He placed the bonesaw down and replaced it instead with surgical scissors, cutting the cloth open with a few quick snips. Despite the warmth of the beam, the cool of the room was enough to tense your body for the first blow.

 The medigun’s powerful, relaxing beam did little to make the initial incision any kinder. You watched in terror and pain, eyes already filling with tears, as the saw split your skin straight down, from collar to naval. You tried not to scream, but you couldn’t hold back your cries when you witnessed the doctor holding your own heart in his hand.

 Your head was spinning and your vision becoming dotted with black smudges. You felt a warm hand on your shoulder and a wet glove against your cheek before your brain overheated from the pain and stress.

 You would have considered it embarrassing that you had fainted and your old team would never have let you live it down. You didn’t feel shame though when your world went dark, however.

 Instead, it was anger boiling in your blood.

~~X~~

I just wanted to thank a couple of readers of this little series for their words and just wanted to say how thankful I am that they have been enjoying it!

 One reader helped to motivate my interest in continuing the story when I was suffering major writer’s block, after they messaged me asking if there was more to come. I had no idea that anyone really read my Tumblr stories anymore, so I wasn’t expecting to continue, so I really appreciate the little boost.

And then the other was one reader who, after they reblogged the post, gave me a good laugh and reminded me how much I love this series, the Medic and this fandom simply by adding some amazing tags to the end! This was a little while ago, but I only just realised, and I loved it!

Thank you though, to anyone who takes the time to read my works. I truly appreciate it, and I am glad you have been enjoying yourselves reading them!

#fanfiction #fanfic #TF2 #Team Fortress 2 #Medic #Heavy #Medic X Reader #Canon X Reader #HarcourtHolmesII

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Prompt My Own Damn Self #1: Non-Linear Healing

Summary: When you die in Borderland, you don’t die in real life—you simply get transported back to the real world, full memories intact. This proves to be a problem when you see a familiar face while walking down the street...

Genre: Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies-to-Bromance

Warnings: ‼️18+‼️ Language, Death, Violence, Sexual Content (Mentioned)

I based this off a text post or something that was like “hey what if you just go back to your real life after borderland and you see hatter and you’re like ‘wait that’s the guy who stole my cards, slept with my wife, and left me for dead in a game’ like wouldn’t that be kinda funny?” And like...it IS funny. But also we get sad and sentimental.

(Also, yes, I AM prompting myself. What are you, a cop??? Wanna tell me where the law is that says you can’t prompt yourself??? Yeah that’s what I THOUGHT! Come back with a WARRANT)

It’s been three months. Three months since you woke up screaming on the bathroom floor, eyes streaming tears as you thrashed against the tile. Three months of night terrors, three months of therapy, three months of sedatives and breathing exercises and non-linear healing.

Healing. Today, healing comes in the form of a post-lunch stroll through the bustling streets of Tokyo. Crowds never made you nervous, before, but now... Well. Things are different, now.

You busy yourself, your brain and your eyes, looking at the swirl of colors and shapes bustling around you. Breathe in, breathe out. There are no games here, no death looming around the corner, no lasers to clip through your cranium and shoot out below your jaw.

And then, you see him. A mirage? A trauma memory? A ghost? No. A man. Slouching against the door frame of a shop, face turned up towards the sky, cigarette smouldering between his middle and index fingers. He looks content. Happy, even.

Fear hits first, like a punch to the gut. Then, bubbling rage. Of all the people, of all the miserable sons of bitches to run into on the street—

You’re weaving through the crowd now, slipping between couples and sidestepping shoppers, vision shifting red and fists clenching. You want to punch him. You want to knock the stupid hat off his head and feel his trachea crunch beneath your palms. You want—

“You wanna buy a hat?”

You freeze.

“Hatter,” you say.

He looks up at the sign above his head, then to the hats in the shop window. Then, back at you.

“Uh...yeah?”

You grab him by the lapels of his loose-fitting shirt and pull him up, noses centimeters from bumping together.

“You...” your voice comes out guttural, growling, “you stole my cards, you fucked my wife, and then you fucking shot me with a goddamn crossbow!”

“Ooooooh,” and Hatter has the decency to at least hint at remorse, his mouth turning downwards into an exaggerated frown, “You were...y’know...there.”

You shake him.

“I should kill you for what you did—“

“—Probably should, but can we just...” His eyes dart left and right, taking notice of the few people who have stopped to watch a potential altercation unfold, “Inside, please? Getting mugged outside your own shop is, uh, not the best look...”

And you let him go, only to grab him by the collar and drag him through the doorway. Then, you slam the door shut, the little bell above it chiming manic and merry as you push Hatter to the floor.

“Okay, you’re upset with me. I get it. I’m upset with me, too,” He’s still on the floor, half-reclining on bent elbows, palms open and facing outwards in an attempt to calm you down, “The card thing was wrong. It was wrong, and it was messed up, and I’m sorry.”

“You think I give a flying fuck about the cards?”

“No! No, uh,” He cowers when you kneel on the floor and grab him by the shirt collar once more, arm reeling back for a punch, “Oh! I’m also sorry for shooting you! Even though, technically, it’s the game’s fault for making rules so that—“

Your fist connects with his cheekbone with a loud smack. The hat which had been so perfectly perched atop his head is knocked halfway across the room as Hatter’s head takes the impact of the punch.

“Fuck, okay, I deserved that,” he says, “What else am I supposed to be sorry for?”

“My wife,” you seethe, “you rat-bastard....”

“Of course, the wife! What was her name, again?” He flinches as you raise your hand once more, “I want to apologize properly! So you can hit me and really make it count!”

You study his face for a moment, admire the knuckle-shaped bruises blooming on his skin.

“It’s Aiko,” you spit, venom dripping from your teeth.

“Aiko? Aiko, Aiko, Aiko...” His face lights up, “Oh! Aiko! With the short hair! And the little heart-shaped earrings!”

“Those were an anniversary present.”

“You have great taste! In jewelry and in women!” He slowly raises his hand, index finger extended upwards as if to ask a question, “I didn’t fuck her, though.”

This time, you slap him.

“No, really!” Hatter hisses from the sting, “We made out, I felt her up a little, but I did not fuck her.”

“I saw you two at the club...”

“...And she was sitting on my lap and I had my hands on her tits, but that’s it, I promise,” he sighs, “Look, man, I always admit to fucking somebody’s wife. Or husband. Or whatever. But Aiko, she saw you and she started crying. And it was a total mood-killer—“

Desiring symmetry, you decide to backhand him.

“—But the point is that she left me to go back to you! We were super drunk and she was just using me to deal with the stress of the games! Trust me, I meant nothing to her!”

Hatter closes his eyes, bracing himself for the next hit. Something in you sours. You let go of his shirt and move so you’re sitting with your back against the counter. Tears begin prickling at your eyes.

You hear something shifting, a light groan and the crack of joints as Hatter moves to sit beside you. He puts a hesitant hand on your shoulder.

“We were all just trying to survive out there. Doesn’t make any of it right, but...well, that’s what makes us human, I guess.”

Bitter tears, hot and angry and heartbroken, spill down your cheeks.

God, what a nightmare. What an awful, terrible thing to have lived through. The blood. The death. The fear. Everything rushing through you, cracking your bones and drowning out your lungs.

It hurts. It hurts so goddamn much—

“Here.”

And Hatter’s offering you a beer—when had he gone and gotten that?—green bottle glistening and cold in his outstretched hand. He has another one pressed against the side of his face—no doubt trying to take away the ache your fist had pressed into his skin.

You dry your eyes on your shirtsleeve and take the bottle, nodding a ‘thank you.’ He sits back down on the floor, but this time, against the opposite wall—out of hitting range, you notice with a chuckle.

“How is she?” Hatter asks, “Your wife. Did she...come back?”

“About a week after I did. She’s...” you take a gulp of your drink, “...coping.”

“Aren’t we all?” He smirks, “Let’s just hope she doesn’t come and beat me up, too. I bet she’s got a mean right hook.”

And you laugh. He laughs, too. It’s ridiculous, sitting on the floor and drinking with the man you had been so determined to hurt.

Two beers later and you’re walking home, sunset warm on your back, phone dialing your wife’s number. You’ve decided to invite him to dinner this weekend—provided it’s alright with her, of course. It’ll be good for you all, you think.

Maybe you can all start to heal together.

#alice in borderland #danma takeru #hatter #boshiya #alice in borderland netflix #imawa no kuni no alice #spicy boy #I’m a grown ass woman I can prompt my own damn self #ngl I kinda wanna know what would happen after this like how’s this gonna go down??? #listen I love hatter but also he seems like a very punchable person