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quietly-by-myself · 2 years

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Chapter 11 - Smoke, Salt, and Asbestos

Excited to put the next few chapters out. Expect a slow down after that.

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CW: nonhuman whumpee (changeling), "it" as a pronoun, dehumanization of a nonhuman, parental abuse (verbal, physical), parental abandonment/disowning by parent, torture, captivity, severe psychological abuse, whipping, whumpee fights back and gets punished

===

Fae creatures are as varied as life on this mysterious planet we call some. Some take human-like forms, others mimic the beasts of the forests. Some have horns, while others drink blood. It is impossible to create one class of them. It is only to be expected. After all, the fae have existed for much longer than humans. Some may even be so old as to have seen humanity's birth and advancement from the beginning. As such, they are very connected to the way things have been. We have much to learn from them, if only we could convince them to lend us an ear.

===

The full weight of its first captivity hadn’t sunk in until about two days in the cell. Its stomach hurt and its mouth was bone dry. Its lung stung in a new way from the iron that Sean had filed right next to its head. Most of all, the overwhelming sense of sadness and helplessness crushed its soul.

Yet, the worst happened that afternoon when it had to face its mother again.

The disgust in her eyes as she looked upon it brought Briac to tears. In many ways, Briac had gotten used to the looks of disgust after so many years. Even the one from Lucius hadn’t affected it very much. However, the look from its mother was one it would never get over.

“I should’ve known,” she’d hissed as she entered his cell. “You were always too violent. You liked the bar too much. Maybe your real parents were fae that only ever drank booze. Maybe that’s how you ended up here.”

“I-I’m sorry, Mom.” Briac had whimpered. He was hardly a month past eighteen at the time. Life without his mother there, by his side, seemed impossible.

She came forward and slapped him across the face, right over the wound she’d given him.

“There aren’t any apologies for what you’ve done. You’re an awful, selfish creature. Everything you do is sin.”

Briac crumpled up on himself, sobs shaking his body.

“Now you have the audacity to manipulate me with your tears. It isn’t going to work, Briac. Not anymore.”

At first, Briac had told itself that its mother was just upset. That those words were born of anger and not truth.

“You nearly killed Sean that one time. You fae creatures are awful. All you do is manipulate innocent humans and hurt them. All you bring is destruction,” her voice was starting to break as she continued on her tirade. “I just never thought it’d happen to me.”

She looked upon Briac’s sobbing form with an even greater look of abhorrence. “I never want to see your face again. You killed my child. I hope you die a painful, awful death. My poor, sweet Briac probably died an awful one. Yours should be thrice as painful.”

She was true to her word. She never once came back to see it. Briac sometimes tried to ask one of the nicer town guards if she was okay, but was only ever met with the response that she didn’t want it to know.

Briac had hurt her. Briac had hurt her so much worse than it thought possible. Eventually, those words of hers became easier to believe than reality itself. After all, she was one of the few people it had ever loved. If her words about it weren’t true, then what could it believe about how others saw it?

So, from that day on, Briac was a manipulative, selfish, awful creature of calamity. That, somehow, sat better with it than thoughts of its own innocence in the face of all the suffering.

---

After Dubheasa had told him the news, Father immediately scheduled an audience with Dubheasa.

“Briac has been captured?” Father had a perplexing look of concern on his face. “Is all well with Silvanus?”

Dubheasa wasn’t sure how to answer. She knew Cusith felt it as well, which is why he gave her that nod. “Let me handle this,” that nod had said.

“Briac has been captured by Arch Alchemist Valentina. He was shipped off without Silvanus’ knowledge. I do not believe we have to fear for Silvanus at the moment, but if something were to happen to Briac, his position is surely in jeopardy.”

Father nodded gravely. “Essentially, we need to rescue both of them within a timely manner is what I’m hearing?”

Dubheasa nodded. “We should rescue Silvanus first, then go get Briac shortly after.”

Father looked a little hesitant, which gave Dubheasa pause.

“I apologize for my indecision, child.” Father took a deep breath. “I worry about starting conflicts with Valentina. She’s a vicious woman who would not hesitate to attack here.”

The question seemed simply answered. “I’ll just have to make sure that she can’t, right? She’s hurt our kind for far too long. For the sake of our kind and all of the alchemists, we need to kill her and make sure that she can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Again, Father hesitated. Dubheasa, for the first time, was nervous that he might say no to rescuing the two.

“You make good points, child.” Father looked at her intently. It always felt like he was reading right into the heart of her soul when he did that. “These are your orders, child. You may take four other defenders with you. Bring them home. We’ll figure out the rest once they’re here.”

Dubheasa breathed a heavy sigh of relief as she gave Father a salute. “Of course. They’ll be home safe as soon as possible.”

As she and Cusith left the Meeting Place, Cusith began to transform into an even taller beast - eight feet at the shoulder. Dubheasa mounted him with little difficulty - after all, they’d been partners for years.

As he took off, he let out a battle cry howl. As Dubheasa clung to Cusith’s back, she could only think about bringing her little brother back in one piece.

---

When had it come to accept that it wasn’t human? Briac wasn’t exactly sure that it was a day as much as it was a process of gradual transformation.

It felt like with each passing moment, with each beating it endured from Lucius, that it was reminded of why it wasn’t human. First was the extraordinary pain coming from his neck each time the collar went off. It was always like that for Briac - punches to the throat always hurt it more than it should’ve.

Next was the burning of the iron. It was cold against his wounds, which made the burns hurt all the more than if the iron was cold.

Third was the way it was treated. Humans deserved so much better than the fae. At least, evil ones like it did. After all, it was there because it had brought calamity upon another human’s life. For that, it deserved punishment.

Finally, it felt deprived when away from nature. Not in the traditional cabin sickness, but it felt like a piece of it was missing when it was away from the green outside. That piece was its fae nature, Briac knew. Humans liked shelter. They’d probably be thankful for somewhat consistent food, even if it tasted bad, and water, even if it was rusty sometimes. Plus the roof over its head. That was all a privilege it knew it wasn’t deserving of.

Who even was Briac? Could Briac even use that name?

It was a piece of itself it held onto despite the attempts to wipe it out.

Sean had taken to stomping its jaw with steel-toed, heavy-soled boots.

“You don’t deserve that name.”

“But I’m Briac.”

A sharp kick had come to its jaw.

“Briac is the name of the one you stole from. You don’t even deserve to call yourself ‘I’ or ‘he.’ Humans use those words. Good people use those words. You’re neither of those things.”

Briac had teared up. It couldn’t take all the abuse. Was it good? It seemed all it could do was bring harm on itself and on others.

“Don’t fucking cry.”

Its tears had landed another sharp kick into its side, sending Briac into a coughing fit again.

“By the time I’m done with you, I’ll only ever hear you call yourself ‘it’ and ‘creature.’ I never want to hear you use that goddamn stolen name again. I never want you to refer to yourself as though you could ever be equal to us.”

Sean had kept his word.

The day Briac had broken and accepted everything they had to say about it was one it remembered only faintly, but came easily in dungeons like the one it was in then.

That day, Briac was a creature. It was an “it,” not a “he.”

It wasn’t Sean that had broken him. Instead, it was one of the other boys it used to fight back in the day - Blaine. They were all allegedly training to be constables, in charge of making sure the fae never set foot in the village again uninvited. Briac was something of target practice for the lot of them - a way to practice torture and interrogation.

Even though Briac was by no means short, Blaine managed to be the tallest in the village. The day, with the strength Briac expected of the fae, he’d lifted Briac by the collar.

Almost immediately, out of instinct, Briac had thrown a sucker punch.

The twist of rage on Blaine’s face was enough to make Briac’s whole body cold in wake of its heat.

Blaine hadn’t spoken a word. Of course, they both knew what would happen next. Blaine had taken Briac’s body with the force of a man full of adrenaline and thrown it to the ground with a kick to the stomach.

That was the day that Briac had met its worst foe - the iron-spiked whip.

Blaine had beaten it to a pulp with it. Lash after lash. Scream after scream. Plead after unanswered plead.

Blaine hadn’t just made sure that Briac would never fight back. No, Briac would do anything to avoid that again. Burns and blood and wounds littered its back with no medical care. Soon after, they became infected. Briac was sure that if it was human, it would’ve died of the injuries.

Yes, the very virtue of still being alive was due to it not being human. That week, Briac came to realize that nothing about it was human.

Thus, it realized that it was in fact, a matter of a day. There wasn’t a process of realization at all.

---

Silvanus always awoke at four in the morning. On the days that there were arrivals, they normally started at four, so it was easiest to wake at the same early time every day.

However, that day, there were to be no arrivals. Silvanus enjoyed those days the most. Nobody was up, so the whole of the Hall was his for the taking. Sometimes, he’d read a book in the moonlight. Others, he would walk around in regular clothes without his robes - something he could never do if others were awake.

Thus, when the bell on the front door rang, Silvanus was very surprised. It was 4:30, telling by the dial clock. There were only two options of what the bell could mean: someone desperately needed help or it was someone looking to get in.

It wasn’t that Silvanus was focusing on anything in particular. His thoughts were focused on Briac and what he was going to do about the situation. Regardless, his migraine from using fae magic was pounding and his eyes refused to focus on any page.

He prepared himself to fight as he opened the front door to see a face he didn’t expect.

“Dubheasa?”

“No time to explain, Silvanus. Pack your shit. We’re getting you out of here now.”

Silvanus looked at her questioningly, but the dangerous look in her eyes was one Silvanus recognized well. She knew something he didn’t. Given the situation with Briac and the letter, Silvanus trusted her judgment. Afterall, there was a reason that she’d survived her injuries in that battle all those years ago.

Admittedly, Silvanus had little to pack - just his spare robes and his Source. They all fit easily into his almost-never-used traveling case.

Dubheasa looked anxious when he got back out. Honestly, it freaked him out.

“Can I ask how bad it is?”

Dubheasa took his travel case and put it on the saddle of one of the steeds Silvanus was just starting to realize.

There were five defenders, including his sister.

Shit.

“Pretty fucking awful. Come on. We need to leave now.”

Silvanus nodded. He wasn’t really thinking. The gravity of the situation was just starting to hit him as Dubheasa helped him onto a horse with another defender before she mounted Cusith.

Silvanus was sure that the last time he’d seen Cusith at full power, they were fighting for their home.

Somehow, he started to feel like “pretty fucking awful” was somewhat of an understatement for whatever was going on.

===

Tags (always open): @hold-him-down, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @thegreatwhodini, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @nicolepascaline, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @whumpsday, @myhusbandsasemni, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

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#smoke salt and asbestos #whump #whump writing #briac #cw are above #whumpblr #dubheasa #please heed the warnings

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mochikeiji · 3 years

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Gojo Satoru

↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x F!Reader

↠ Warning: bby gojo having heavy thoughts and sadness after everything. (pls hug) angst to fluff.

↠ a/n: ironically, his name is the title for this xD also thank you so much for the love from my recent works o(^▽^)o♡ have my love too!

↬ Word Count: 1.9k

Everyone has their beginnings. While some were blessed to start out life with good fortune and the right path, there were some who struggled through their way in living. For Gojo? He didn't really care. Not when he was already being worshipped for being born in this world, not when as a child he had barely lifted a finger before his life was already planned out for him. It was as if he was simply taking the red carpet to luxury. He already has everything. Truly, he claimed, he was indeed the honored one.

He wasn't one to be wary of his own feelings. What was there to be thought about if he doesn't know what are these stuff running through his head? Not that he should give a single mind to it.

But as he sat down at the tub of his bathroom— tweezers between his fingers, one at a time he plucks out the small shards of glass that had dug themselves onto his skin from the previous mission he was sent on solo, he started to wonder why he was staring blankly at the crimson liquid trailing down his damaged skin. Why did he felt so empty?

Maybe if Shoko were around to patch him up, he would've have had someone to pester for the day. Maybe he wouldn't have gone home to the lonesome apartment he owns, hissing at the pain from each shard taken out of his body.

Pain

That was strange. He never experienced that. Not even when he's in battle with the strongest forms of curses. No matter how many gashes of wounds he's collected, they always heal themselves quickly. It was unfamiliar that it began to frustrate him. He doesn't like it. Not one bit. It hurts. It hurts so much, yet why was there still something making his heart clench?

Loneliness. Abandonment. Broken.

Gojo was a fool for losing the only person that has come close to understanding him. If only he understood what Geto was going through; if he knew what the hell were all those troubles and emotions were maybe he would've still had his only best friend here with him. But no. It slowly came crashing down on Gojo's eyes that though he was the honored one,

He was the lost one.

A broken soul being held by strings as he was only guided to follow along the path that was planned out for him, but never what he planned for himself.

Why was he remembering all of these now? It had been years after the downfall. He should've moved on from it, be the usual cherry top, annoying idiot he was to his students and colleagues. God, he hates this. Falling, falling, falling.

Only the weak fall

Was a statement drilled into his system right from the start. The never ending worship that has earned him the title of being the "strongest" was what he kept pursuing. Believing.

Was the Gojo Satoru at his weakest point?

"Fuck." the unusually large shard of glass falls on the tiled floor, removed from the left side of his chest. Near to the scar that trails from the base of his throat and down to his navel; the reminder of why he shouldn't be left vulnerable at any cost. The hideous flaw that will forever be marked on his body, the one he desperately hides behind those prideful remarks and grinning faces. It saddens him, it hurts him, it angers him. It makes himself lose his own sanity.

The stinging started to kick in on his chest, no longer can he tell if it was from the wound or the clenching of his heart. He was strong, he was suppose and always will be strong. "Why?" the tub cracks from his grip. His free hand coming up to his eyes, eyes that people loved enough to fall in a trance— enemies crumbling and begging for mercy upon them.

Gojo felt ashamed.

Shameful. He grits his teeth hard when the small trickle of the uncharacteristic tear falls from the heavenly eye. It falls down to the porcelain surface, mixing with the trail of blood that was slowly draining down, "Why?" he finally looks down at the fatal wound, attempting to stop the bleeding with his bare hands pushing his chest. The blood smearing all over his upper body, shading the past scar that it made it look like it was there again.

"Why?"

Gojo speaks a little louder, sweating profusely as the dam inside him broke. Like an endless waterfall it was the tears fall. It made him sick. This was all not him. This wasn't the known shaman in the jujutsu world. This wasn't the boy raised from the family of the strongest. This wasn't the strongest.

"Stop."

This wasn't any of him.

"Make it stop."

Then who was he?

"Please, make it stop."

"Satoru?"

Entire body freezing. It was the first time he felt fear rushing through his veins; the fear of being seen like this. It wasn't because he didn't trust you. Good gracious, you were the last and only person Gojo ever holds onto after the years being glued together by faith and his attempts of flirting. No, he didn't want you to see this unknown person that was sitting in the bathroom of your shared apartment. Right, he forgot he was living with you.

Huh, he forgot. You were there.

There knelt down to his level, wide eyes meeting the now visible broken ones that was glossy with tears. With careful movements you raised an arm to eye level, pleading silently for permission to touch him. And for the time, Gojo was actually wary. He's faced a lot in the years spent as a sorcerer, as the strongest. Never the weakest. So when your lips curled into the same smile you'd give him during your moments of vulnerability. The cute, little curve you give when you couldn't help but just admire him or when you're about to utter out his 3 favorite words, he finds himself leaning forward to rest his cheek against the warmth of your palm. He allows the pestering tears to fall omly to be caught with your thumbs, shooing them away from his features.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

When your hand pulls away for a short moment, Gojo silently whines at the lost of contact. The tightness in his chest coming back. The feeling of abandonment crosses his head for a second before you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, holding up the tweezers he had dropped a while ago, "I'm here now."

I'm here now

That was his line. His line for when there was someone in need of help. The line that shimmers hope on the darkest moments of anyone's life. The line of the strongest. The ones who were only truly honored of saying.

Hope. It had a different form today. One that was right in front of him, plucking out every leftover shard on his body with gentleness he never got to witness as a child. The soft cooes and from time to time kisses on his scalp made his senses more focused on there rather than the stinging sensations running through his skin. Exactly how people react when there is hope.

And where there is hope,

"I love you, Satoru."

There is love.

Warm water from the shower cap started pouring down to his tensed muscles, washing out the combined dirt and blood away from him, cleansing his own form of curses that has shaken up his being. When did you finish patching him up? And why wasn't it as painful as it was when he did it?

He watches you move the small container that reeked of the scent of his blood and that inflicted his injuries far from his sight. Immediately, Gojo felt empty once more and was about to call you when you came back holding fresh towels on your hands. "Do you want me to join you?" he couldn't say yes faster than ever, almost as if he was relieved when you offered.

When you had finally stripped yourself off of your clothes and settled in between his long legs, there was nothing but the sound of the shower on echoing in the room with the two of you just staring back to one another.

Too good to be true, you were.

Gojo wanted to speak. Wanted to tell you how thankful he is that you were here to pull him away. To save his life, but all he could do was stare back into the void that of before. He sees the way your hands map around his torso in attempt to rinse him completely. Coming in contact with the old and new scar, softly tracing them as you felt his eyes wonder to yours. There was no sign of disappointment nor a hint of harm or disgust. Only something he never understood that it made him sob unexpectedly, startling you that left you pulling him into your embrace which he latches his face onto your neck and arms surrounding your body whole.

He cries.

All the frustration of not knowing whatever was happening, the mistakes he wishes to correct and the past he hoped to save along with the title he swore to maintain. It all falls on the smaller body he treasures in his arms at this very moment. He clutches, he palms, he roams. Whatever he can do just so he can fully grasp the idea that someone was there. You were there, and he wasn't alone anymore.

"I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough."

It would shock the world and break the hearts of many to hear these very words uttered from the mouth of the honored one. And Gojo wishes that everyone could hear it. That it would somehow reach the skies to wherever his best friend was too. To you, the person he loved the most. He was sorry that he wasn't the Gojo Satoru in your eyes.

"No, Toru. No." you push him back gently only to pull him in for a soft kiss, "I don't need you to always be the strongest. Let alone apologize for being vulnerable." he listens as he nuzzles against the palms meeting his face. The ones that held him together when he was falling apart.

His lips wobbled a bit when you land kisses on his scars, "These may not have been the good ones in your life, but these do not make you for who you are, Satoru." he hums in content when you rub down to his chest soothingly, the feeling that you has him yearning for more. Needing for more, "It's okay to be lost, and it's okay to be weak. But it'll never define you."

"I need you to be just you."

You pull him down, letting him cry all his heart out to your naked chest. He let's you have your way to him. The emotions, words, and treatment. All so unfamiliar. And he finds himself wanting. Needing more.

All his life he thought he had it all.

But never in his life has he lived it.

"What am I, (Y/n)?"

Cooing softly as the small of his voice. Like the child who never got to experience what love was. The child raised to already has to burden such responsibilities and stand. Gojo can feel himself breathe in relief as he whispers an "i love you" with a small kiss on your skin when you uttered out the words that has set his locked up self free. Free from the strings that's been taking over. The cage he was kept from all of his living.

The curse of his gift

And being honored of what he truly deserves.

"You're Gojo Satoru."

Just Gojo Satoru.

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo fluff #gojo headcanons #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo scenarios #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

— falling out of love with gojo satoru

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual content, cursing

masterlist !

when you fell in love with gojo satoru, your heart exploded like a firework.

you still remember that moment very vividly at the back of your head. it was new year’s, and you two were drunk on both liquor and the feeling of having the other by your side. it was a tough year – as the norm was for jujutsu sorcerers – but you both made it out alive.

alive couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt that day.

satoru has always been the person who stuck by your side through thick and thin like how you were the one who always went against the higher-ups when they tried to limit his capabilities. you should’ve known then, that the higher ups were just the beginning. that when once you thought their oppression for satoru’s plans were nothing but microscopical compared to the barrier his family had placed between the both of you.

they didn’t like you.

he was a gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, while you were...well, you.

you weren’t really anyone special or better than anyone. your technique was decent and had a lot more drawbacks than advantages that you had to improve your physical abilities instead to not be deemed a total useless tool.

satoru never saw you that way. to him, he admired you almost as equally as he cherished his best friend, suguru, so much so that the three of you become the best of friends in the blink of an eye. the more time you spent together, whether alone or with others, it felt like your world just hyper focused or snapped into tunnel vision, zeroing on no one else but the white-haired man whose smile was brighter than any other in the sky.

when he told you he loved you, you couldn’t distinguish which ones were the exploding new year fireworks or the drumming of your heart. you stared up at him then, lips falling open as you released a tiny breath of air, and satoru laughed. he actually laughed.

you wanted to tease him, to punch him even though you couldn’t really ever touch him just to get over the fact he had you losing your composure with eyes glossing over. “well,” he taunted then, one shoulder lifting up lazily. “aren’t you gonna say anything? if you feel the same way, now’s the best time to tell me. we can end the year as friends and start another one as-”

satoru never got to finish his sentence. you had jumped into his arms faster than the speed of light, hands yanking down his yukata to pull him towards you, your lips slamming on his almost greedily.

he didn’t mind. he never did.

for once, it felt as if his infinity never existed. you had both spent the night tangled under the sheets, your name rasped from his lips like a prayer. the way you kneeled for him just moments later with your eyes fervently closed made him feel like he’s the one being worshipped instead, and in a way, it was. you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt the day after when he never gave you a break and kept you pulled closer to him.

you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt if ever the time came that you no longer felt the same.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly. your shared apartment would still be filled with his annoying mannerism of dragging his feet over the floor as he walked, always groaning and complaining that he was hungry but never really bothered to cook anything for himself.

it felt a lot like living with a child where you were his mother, but in that sense, satoru hated it whenever you worried for him.

“you’re not my mother, stop telling me what to do!”

“stop being so arrogant, satoru!” you pointed to the barely conscious child in his arms, the first year student still barely breathing because satoru had gone out of his way again and brought yuuji while he fought a special grade curse. “you may be strong, but not everyone around you is capable of handling what you can! stop dragging people into your mess and start using your goddamn brain for once!”

“you don’t know anything, so shut the hell up.”

you scoffed, hands placed on your hip while you blinked back the angry tears that threatened to fell. you worried for yuuji, you really did, but in reality, you just couldn’t handle seeing gojo pushing himself to his limits and coming back home more wounded than the night before.

“i’m just worried for you, satoru. i don’t want you getting hurt.”

“i’m the strongest,” was all he said – was what he always kept saying. “i’m not going to get hurt.”

“you may not,” you reply stiffly, “but what about me? don’t you think about me? don’t you think about how much it hurts me to see you this way?”

you told yourself you hated him. you hated how arrogant he got. it was good he was confident of his abilities and prided himself of such an honourable title, but satoru was human. he was bound to fall at some point.

eventually, you got too tired.

it was too tiring to keep waiting for him to come home unscathed. you were assigned different missions all the time. satoru would always be working overseas while you mostly helped train the kids and exorcised curses from time to time; no missions that were as dangerous as his.

in the dead of the night, when you were turned away from him in your bed that had already gotten so cold from his usual absence, satoru would slip beside you as silently as he could. the morning afterwards would always be the same: good morning, did you sleep well? he knew the answer. he knew you never slept well without him, but he’d ask just to be nice, and it wouldn’t take too long before you’re both late to work because he missed you too much from being away all the time that he wanted to feel you clamp around him one more time.

it was tiring. too tiring.

that heavy weight never left your shoulders. you cried yourself to sleep far too much that you’d lost count – until you reached a point you just felt nothing. the bed no longer felt cold – just empty. his side always remained untouched, his chair in the dining table barely used, and you’ve gotten so used of washing only your plate and utensils that you wondered if satoru had ever been there.

you wondered if it was a coping mechanism; that maybe you could just no longer handle the pain of having to worry about him every damn night and he’d never care enough to at least be a little more careful, and this was why you just stopped missing him, which was why you just started enjoying the silence in your apartment a little bit more than you should.

but if it was a coping mechanism...why did you feel a lot freer and happier in his absence? instead of it feeling like you were supposed to be distracted, you felt awakened. alive.

alive in the same way he told you he loved you while the skies painted different hues of red, blue, green, and yellow in the darkness that bore witness to your souls connecting that night – the same sky that was now patiently watching as your souls split in half and formed itself whole all over again.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly.

there was no longer someone singing made up songs in the shower. there would no longer be that sound of an annoying loud kiss down the bride of your neck or the smacking of his palm on your ass when he wanted to piss you off.

you fell out of love him so silently that when he crawled next to you that night, you didn’t even hear him. and for the first time in a long time, you slept well the moment he left before the sun stretched its wings across the horizon. when you were greeted by nothing but your own pair of slippers outside your bedroom and not even a post it note to tell you he’d already left for work, a smile tugged on your face.

you made your breakfast in peace. satoru no longer dared to come back home if he was injured because he knew you wouldn’t care enough to fix him up.

although of course you would, but nothing ever beats in your heart for him anymore when you dab the disinfectant across his cut lips. satoru would catch your wrist then to tug you to him slowly, empty eyes staring back at his sky blue ones.

“thank you. for patching me up.”

“you’re welcome,” you’d smile, climbing off his lap while closing the first aid-kit. “go get changed. i’ll cook something up for you.”

it was a silent, empty routine. satoru would thank you for fixing him up because he was never every sorry for worrying you. he’d keep being reckless again and again until he reached a point you no longer cared for him enough to say goodbye to him with a kiss and the slow, tender promise of be safe – i’ll wait for you to come home.

you still kiss him – more out of habit than anything – but you’ve changed.

i’ll see you tonight.

it was empty, silent, completely different from the fireworks he’d ignited within you when he told you he loved you. satoru wasn’t dumb, and he didn’t need his six eyes to see that you’ve grown too comfortable over the large space between you and him between the sofa, almost as if him being away was what felt home for you.

he was never a confrontational man; he hated each waking moment that lead to this, but he had to do it. he needed to do it – to set you both free.

when the commercials started playing, satoru lowered the volume down, voice low and serious as he turned to you. you easily picked up on the sudden tension in the room – the first thing you’ve felt ever since you’ve fallen out of love with him – yet nothing changed. when satoru sighed, your heart didn’t ache.

“well,” he chuckled nervously as he leant back to his side, “things have changed, don’t you think?”

“yes.” there was no point denying it. you knew it – he felt it.

“what do we do now?”

you had no answer to his question. despite the fact you no longer looked at him the same way, not once had it crossed your mind to leave your apartment. not because you wanted to hold on as much as possible to whatever memories you shared under this roof, but simply because you didn’t know where else to go.

it wasn’t like it made a difference anyway. satoru barely came home, and when he did, he made his presence as scarce as possible that you could no longer tell what difference it would make if he was here or not.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, knees hugged to your chest. “what do you want to do?”

his answer came in the form of opened doors. you leant against the doorframe, watching as nanami and even yuuji came to help satoru move his stuff out of the apartment. he found a better place somewhere in the upstate, somewhere much closer to bars and clubs – which you know he thoroughly enjoyed it prior to meeting you – and your mind immediately went back to the time you and satoru first moved in.

it proved to be a difficult task. you both wanted to move in and finish unpacking as soon as possible, but satoru was too eager to christen each part and corner of the house that you both ended up making more mess.

nights spent tucked into each other because the heater was broken and you were both too tired to sleep anywhere except the uncomfortable mattress played like a broken record in your mind. satoru’s laughter echoed when nanami complained that he should stop spending money on souvenirs so he could’ve hired professionals to help him move out instead, your head snapping up at the source of that carefree, sweet laugher that always had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

as if feeling your gaze on him, satoru’s eyes flitted to where you stood. when he smiled, you could tell each genuine apology rang behind it – all the words he never got to say staying like a broken glass that kept cutting him over and over again.

he loved you. he still loves you.

and maybe, tucked away in the deepest parts of your heart that no longer felt fond of him the same way it did before, still held a little compassion enough for this man you once wanted to spend your life with.

you weren’t unkind. you didn’t need to love someone to know when to forgive them, but just for this moment, just for him, you could pretend to for one last time.

smiling up at him with your eyes crinkled and the last bits of adoration for everything about him gleamed through your lashes just before it slipped away into nothingness. it was enough. it was enough for satoru to know he’d been forgiven, and it was enough for him to finally set you free.

the next time you saw him at school, there were no longer fireworks.

your heart was at peace.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader angst #gojo x reader smut #gojo-satoru-x-reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader angst #gojo x reader imagines #gojo x reader drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru

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eloquent-vowel · 3 years

Note

Hey! I have a request! Bucky x reader where the reader is from the red room. Maybe the avengers just got her out and Buckys helping her through the ptsd and stuff? Maybe she locks herself away to her room because she’s scared to do anything for herself? Also maybe some platonic nat? Sorry if that was too specific. Feel free to add your own ideas and change stuff or just ignore if you don’t like the idea! Thanks!

Hi! Thank you so much for the request, I'm sorry it took me so long, life has been evil to me and I may or may not have forgotten this blog actually had readers. I love me some good hurt/comfort. I hope what I have written works!

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

When the Avengers had burst into the facility you had been kept in, with all the bravado of heroes you were shocked. You had heard whispers of these warriors that you were being trained eliminate. You had heard stories of the Black Widow who had betrayed the Red Room and while you didn't want to give yourself hope, a small part of you always longed to do the same. To be done with the endless list of missions and targets, to finally stop piling up the blood on your hands.

They had arrested you originally. You didn't blame them, you were one of the most active members of the programme, You had lost count of how many instructions you had followed, how many targets you had eliminated and you had no doubt that the Avengers had your face on their wall of targets.

That was why, when the Winter Soldier aimed a gun at your head you just knelt to the ground as you watched your seniors begin to fight the other Avengers. You didn't say a word in the carrier back to wherever they were taking you. It was easy to hide behind a bravado of stony silence, to pretend that your entire existence hadn't just been ripped away from you.

That was why, when the blank faces of the Black Widow and the Winter Soldier, stared at you from the other side of the interrogation table, you felt a panicked warmth creep up your neck. They begun to question you about the other facilities and to their surprise, you guessed by the way they looked at each other as you talked, you spoke truthfully and honestly to them. You told them everything you knew.

"If I can stop anymore becoming like me, I will. Everything I know is yours, I won't lie to protect something so hideous as the red room."

Because for as much as the red room tried to convince you otherwise, seeing young girl after young girl die by another girl was not right. Not right in the slightest. The more you saw of the world outside of the Room the more aware you became of this, so by the time it was to end, you promised to do anything to help the Avengers take down the remaining branches of the Black Widow Programme.

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

Around 6 months after you had been captured, you were settled into the avengers compound, much to your surprise. You had been there personally to help the avengers gain access to some of the branches and during those mission you had begun a strong friendship with Nat and a... a something with Bucky.

There was something about the gruff man that was so gentle that drew you in. The way his smile lit up when a certain song came on and the little dances he would do while brewing coffee made your heart flutter- despite how much you tried to convince it not too.

It was a nice life, in the compound, you mostly stuck to your room until you were asked to help on a mission, or if Nat asked to spar with you. You still had not gotten rid of the memories, however. These vivid memories haunted you, if you weren't keeping busy your brain would wonder to times before. To victims of the red room, and your victims, the ones you had killed.

Their faces didn't hover as much as their voices, every plea they made would ring in your ears whenever there was a moment of silence. They whispered from the corner of your room at night, nothing would stop them from filling the void of silence. This meant that sleep did not come as easily to you.

It was one of those nights. When every time you closed your eyes there would be nothing but whispers and your brain seemed determined to run through every memory you regretted. There was only one solution to these nights, a good cup of tea (with a splash of whiskey in). So you pottered over to the kitchen, footfalls naturally silent as you boiled the kettle. Tony probably had some fancy gadget that would do the whole process more efficiently, but the sound of boiling water was rather grounding.

Perhaps your focus on the water was why you didn't hear the figure walking up behind you until you felt a slight breath on your neck. Training and years of being on the run kicked into gear and you immediately whipped around to punch her assailant around the jaw, and kicked a foot out to trip them. The figure fell with a very familiar oof, one recognisable from training.

It was Bucky.

Oh god, it was Bucky. Kind, thoughtful, gentle Bucky who had probably come out to check on you. The same Bucky who made you coffee in the morning, that was now lying on the floor clutching his eye as you looked down at him. And then his face, his figure, was all your other victims. A woman in hospital garb, a man in a suit, a wife, a sister, a child. It was too much, you had to run.

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

Bucky watched as they ran from the kitchen, he stood up from the floor as the sound of a door slamming echoed through the tower. He rubbed at his jaw, how could he have been so stupid. Sneaking up on someone who was struggling with PTSD and running on little sleep, he didn't think.

"You gonna get that?" Nat's voice was hushed as she offered him a hand up.

He took it, pulling himself up, pausing to think for a moment before walking hesitantly over to the door. He knocked as quietly as possible. He could hear the gasping sobs coming from the other side of the walls.

Nat hovered on his other side, staying within comfort radius in case she was needed.

"Heya Doll." Bucky started, as there was no sign of reply he continued. "You alright?" Still silence. "I'm sorry I snuck up on you like that, it was my fault, should've thought but as Steve would say, thinking ain't always my strong suit."

He caught the sound of movement, hesitant footsteps coming towards the door.

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

You managed to control your breathing enough to shuffle over to the door. You placed your hand over the door, where you imagined Bucky to be leaning. Guilt filled your conscious once more and the apology flew out of you before you could stop it.

"I'm so sorry, Bucky. God I am so sorry."

"It's fine, Doll."

"No, no its not!" You were practically yelling at the door now. "I hurt you. What if one day I kill you? You catch me with a knife in my hand and I jump, what then. For crying out loud I can't even make a cup of tea without hurting someone, I can't do anything. I'm sorry, I am so sorry that I'm so useless and I-"

"Hey, hey, hey breathe." Bucky's calm and even tone halted your rant. "Listen to me. Everyone of us has had moments like that, we all have our demons and those demons sometimes cause us to lash out. I've done worse than punch Steve many times, would you call me useless?"

You sniffed as you shook your head, forgetting he couldn't see you.

"Besides," He continued, "We all have our strengths, we all have our weaknesses but you know what's great? We are a team. Where one person can't make a cup of tea, another can make the best brew in the country. You don't have to face these things alone, Doll. We are all here for you, I am here for you, always will be."

You slowly began to open the door as he spoke, and looked up into the most sincere pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. There was a slight bruise coming up below his eye but he was smiling. He was doing that smile that meant his eyes crinkled, twinkling brightly- like stars.

"I'm sorry, Bucky."

"You don't have anything to apologise for, Doll, but you're forgiven."

You crept forward, reaching out for something, someone and the easy smile that filled your face as Bucky's arms wrapped around you in the most comforting hug you had ever had. You felt the faint echo of lips against your head and you gripped onto him tightly.

"You two are adorable."

The two of you separated slowly at Nat's voice. Not completely, there was still the comforting feeling of Bucky's hand against your back.

Nat's face was softer than you had ever seen it and there was nothing but understanding in her eyes as she spoke. "If you ever need someone to talk to come knock on my door. I know I would have loved to have someone there who knew."

Words caught in your throat as you nodded. You were soon wrapped in another comforting hug from Natasha, the scent of her perfume comforting and warm. The way forward would be hard but you knew that with these two by your side, your family, things would be a little easier than they had been.

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rengoku-loves-you · 3 years

Note

This is such a weird request, but can you do the reader doing a break up prank on our sun, kyo? (Weird ik I just kinda wanna see how it goes XD)

(hi hun! don't worry about weird requests, this made me laugh when i read it! though it probably doesn’t show... i probably made it a bit more emotional and angsty than you were hoping, i’m sorry about that ^^; it hurt my little kyo-loving heart to make him sad tho, i almost couldn't bear it but that was the way it flowed :'D thank you so much for your request! ❤️️)

kyojuro x reader (in which you make up a break-up)

warnings: miscommunication, prank (accidentally) gone too far, angst?

"i think it's best if we don't see each other anymore."

kyojuro freezes. he'd been in the middle of cleaning his sword, wiping away the remains of the demon he had slain during his last mission, when you dropped that bomb on him. you don't even have the decency to look at him, sitting across from him with your eyes closed and your legs crossed like his. practicing your breathing, supposedly.

"what do you mean by that?" he asks slowly, very sure he's heard you wrong. his hearing has always been a little faulty ever since that one disastrous mission. "you're my successor! we could hardly not see each other anymore, your training is nowhere near complete. unless one of us goes blind!" he smiles, and you blink open your eyes. you don't look as amused as he hoped you would.

"i mean we should break up," you say bluntly, and that. that slaps the tentative smile right off his face. for a long moment, it's silent.

"ah," he says, quiet. his gaze flicks away, down to his sword, and he mindlessly starts cleaning it again before his hands start to shake. he forces his lips upward again, ignoring how they tremble. "i... if that's what you truly want, i understand! i will not pressure you to change your mind! you know what you desire better than anyone!" and he doesn't say any more, scrubbing the rag over the blade over and over and over again.

"okay," you say shortly. "thank you for understanding, rengoku." he gives a single nod, and you close your eyes again. rengoku. you only called him that when he was in trouble. otherwise, it was always kyojuro or even kyo.

it stings.

it stings a lot, even more than the bite the demon had taken out of his leg during the mission. in fact, his heart hurts so bad that he doesn't even notice when his eyes start to sting as well until tears are dripping onto his sword, smearing when he tries to rub them away.

"i'm just," you start to say, and then you inhale sharply, cutting yourself off. he doesn't hear what you say next, because he sobs at the sound of your voice, and his sword falls to the ground in his haste to scrub away the shameful, selfish tears. when he feels your hands on his shoulders, he jerks away.

“i’m fine, i’m okay!” he insists loudly, dodging your touch again when your fingers brush his cheek. he’s trying so hard to keep the smile on his face that it only makes his eyes water more. “i’ll stop in a moment, i apologize for this!” his voice wobbles, and he roughly scrubs at his face for it, trying to tamp the emotions down. he isn’t even entirely sure why he’s crying like this. you’re still his successor, and you’re not so cruel as to treat him coldly even after you break up. he knows you’ll still be friends at the very least. it’s not as if you’ll really never see each other again.

but you were his first, the only one he dared to let in so deep into his heart even though he knows the risks, because he believed in you and your ability to stay alive. he believed you would succeed in becoming a pillar, flame or otherwise, and just like a moth to a flame that spark inside you drew him in. you were natural friends, slipping into dating territory without either of you having to ask.

(”dating” being a relative term, of course. neither of you have much time to indulge in silly, normal dates, so you steal kisses, stay for dinner, and spend the night when you can.)

he feels like a child again, freshly abandoned, scorched inside with grief and burned outside from the flames he recklessly practices with. only this time, the external burns are your fleeting touches as you try to calm him down, saying words his ears refuse to let him process.

“i’m fine, i’m fine,” he persists, hoarse now that he’s nearly cried out, and you fall quiet. his entire face feels hot, a mixture of his aggressive rubbing, the usual post-breakdown flush, and shame. you’ve given up on helping, standing worriedly at his side with your hands wringing. you watch him take shuddering breaths, somehow still with that damned grin on his face that looks nothing but painful.

“i apologize,” kyojuro begins, because he knows all his crying did was make you feel guilty and the last thing he wants is to make you feel responsible for him and his silly emotions.

“it was a joke,” you say weakly, and he blinks, water catching on his lashes as he gazes at the wall.

“what was that?” he asks, tugging the handkerchief from his breast pocket. you open your mouth, but then he blows his nose, loud and obnoxious, and you shut it again. you wait until he folds it back up, sniffing once, before he grips his knees with his eyes so wide that if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was waiting for someone to cut his head off. “i don’t think i heard you correctly. can you repeat that?”

“it was a joke,” you say again, lamely. “i-i didn’t expect you to take it so hard, especially not that fast. i thought you were gonna act all pouty and give me those sad eyes that you get whenever i don’t share my sweet potatoes with you. then i’d say i was kidding, and we’d kiss and laugh ‘cause we’re too perfect together for that to happen. it was supposed to be funny. i’m not that good at lying, kyo.” you kneel next to him, bowing your head. “i’m sorry.” even as the silence stretches, you don’t dare look up.

“well,” he rasps, and you jolt when you feel a warm hand fall on your head, “i suppose i’m just that terrible at understanding jokes!” when you dare to lift your eyes, he’s smiling at you. genuinely this time, small and still mildly tearstained. “there’s no need to apologize! i was the one who overreacted!”

“kyojuro,” you nearly whine, because he’s only making you feel worse. “it was a mean prank in the first place, don’t you dare start apologizing to me. i’m the one who should be apologizing.” he chuckles, his hand sliding to your upper arm and tugging gently, and you immediately lean into him. he wraps his arm around your shoulders, nose pressed to the top of your head, and you loop your arms around his waist.

“if you say so! i won’t argue with you!” he brings his other arm up, and then he’s practically shuffling into your lap, squeezing you tightly. you let him, even though he’s heavy and nowhere near acceptable lap-sitting size, because you can still feel him shaking and you know he needs the comfort.

“i really am sorry,” you mumble against his shoulder, fingers toying with his belt. “i’ve never seen you cry like that.”

“i’ll forgive you,” he says, “under one condition!” you don’t hesitate to nod. right now, you’d probably do anything he asked, if only to ease the massive pit of guilt in your stomach just a little. he pulls back, hands gripping your shoulders, and gives you another smile. more of a smirk, really. then he leans close to your ear, hot breath ghosting over your skin, and you shiver.

“never, ever leave me,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear when he speaks. “otherwise...” you close your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm, but force yourself to keep still. he sighs, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, his hands slowly wandering down to your sides. “otherwise, i’ll cry. i’ll cry myself to death! then you’ll really be sorry!” his fingertips dig into your sides, and you gasp and jolt at the sharp, ticklish pain.

you really should’ve known.

“kyojuro!” you halfheartedly shove at his chest, and he falls back, laughing. his voice is still a little thick, and his eyes are raw and he’s still shaking like a leaf, but he leans in and kisses you anyway. that’s all the forgiveness you two need for now.

(he tastes like salt.)

#demon slayer imagines #demon slayer rengoku imagines #rengoku imagines #kny imagines #kny rengoku imagines #kyojuro rengoku imagines #rengoku x reader #anon request #i hope you all enjoy!!#i've been getting a lot more requests than i expected #so if you sent a request please wait a little longer!#i'm doing my best to get through them all!

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Learned Helplessness.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Hawks/Reader (BNHA).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Mindbreak, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Themes of Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Slight Gaslighting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and Implied Kidnapping.

Sometimes, Keigo had to wonder if there was ever a point where you hadn’t been afraid of him.

It’d always been there, even if Keigo liked to remember your anxious smiles and stuttered greetings in a kinder light. It made sense, in the moment, the way you kept your eyes on the floor when you first approached him, struggling to introduce yourself as you fumbled with the disposable cup in your hands, caught between the urge to leave an off-shift hero alone and the temptation get your favorite idol’s autograph before he could slip out of the small, back-alley bar you found him in. You’d been nervous, obviously, hesitant to admit you were just as eager as he was when he asked for your number, when he called you for the first time – hell, it took him months just to get you to spend the night in his apartment. You were shy. He liked that about you. You’d always been so timid.

The fear, the genuine fear, started later on. He remembered it, the weeks you spent holing yourself up in the smallest corner you could find, how many times he tried to lure you out and how many times he was met screaming and thrashing and struggling, but you’d always been scared, slow to adjust, reluctant to sit still and listen when he asked you so nicely to try. You wanted to be loved, but you didn’t know how to let your guard down. You wanted him, but…

But, he was making excuses. You were never shy. You’d never really been scared. Even when things went bad, he doubted you were ever really afraid of him.

You were afraid now, though, and if he’d been a better man, he might’ve been able to admit he was the reason why.

Your hands were shaking. Violently, visibly, despite your attempts to keep them folded behind your back, to keep the evidence of your paranoia out of sight and out of mind. It was enough to give you away, though, and if it hadn’t been, your posture would’ve done it, too stiff and too rigid to be comfortable, or your bowed head, or the smile you couldn’t seem to force onto your grim expression as he let himself into the kitchen, stopping to lean in the doorway. Already, it felt like an invasion, despite the fact that he’d taken you to his villa, on his property, far away from anyone or anything you’d interact with willingly. He was home too soon, and this wasn’t his territory, anymore. He wasn’t your caretaker, anymore. He’d lost the right to think of himself as such a benevolent figure.

But, he tried. You had to give him that. Out of the two of you, he was the only one trying to make this work. “No need to be shy,” He started, keeping his tone as neutral as he could. You didn’t react well when he raised his voice, and when he tried to be more gentle, to soften himself into something delicate and unimposing, you never bought the act. He couldn’t blame you. If he didn’t know how sweet you could be, how playful and how loving, he wouldn’t know to be dissatisfied with the frightened thing you currently were. “I don’t bite, (Y/n), you know that. You can calm down.”

He wanted you to correct him. He wanted you to grit your teeth, to cross your arms, to get angry. You only nodded, narrowing your eyes at the tiling. “You… you’re early.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a mumble, but it was still an improvement. Not long ago, you’d refused to talk to him at all, and when he could choke a few words out of you, he’d have to deal with the breakdown that came afterward, the pleads for mercy forced out between hitched sobs. This was better. He could tell himself that this was better, even if it was less, too. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been there to greet you. I would’ve, if I thought you were going to—”

You were rambling, again. Keigo didn’t have a problem with that, not by itself, not when so many memories he had of your absent-minded tangents were still tinted with that sparkling, rose-colored haze, but he didn’t care for this, panicked muttering only made more painful by the way you shifted your weight, managing to hold your tense smile, this time. Did he ask you to do that? Smile when he was around? Play house and pretend you were happy when your captor chose to pay attention to you? It seemed like something he would do, back when he still thought that wearing you down was the solution. Fuck, it seemed like something he would do now, if he didn’t already know how painful it was to watch you try.

“It’s alright,” He cut you off, taking half a step forward. Instantly, reflexively, you flinched back, that slight shudder suddenly more pronounced. It wasn’t just your hands, now, your shoulders were shaking too, your jaw locking into place as you leaned into the sharp edge of the countertop. “Sweetheart,” He tried, moving forward before realizing his mistake and freezing, cursing under his breath. Predictably, none of it did anything to soothe you. “Baby, I just wanted to see you, that’s all. I got off early, and I figured we could—”

A stifled gasp interrupted him, just the hint of a sob. A month ago, he would’ve taken it as a sign of disobedience, another bad habit you had to be trained out of. Now, it was all he could do to stop himself from wishing you would cry, kick and bite and scratch at him until you’re too exhausted to care that he'd be the one comforting you. At least that way, he’d get to touch you. At least that way, you’d be something, other than afraid.

“Please, I just—I haven’t done anything!” Because you’ve been good. Because so much as being near him was a punishment. Because he wanted you to love him and now, he was paying the price for hoping he could ever do something so shamelessly heroic. “I can’t— please, don’t come any closer, I don’t know if I can—”

He wanted to hold you. That was all he could think about. He just wanted to hold you, the actual you. Not whatever shell he’d gotten used to living with. “Stop talking.”

You clenched your eyes shut, then you opened them again. Like a child, trying to blink away the remnants of a nightmare after just waking up. “I’m so—”

“Stop talking.” In his defense, he didn’t yell, he knew how much you hated it. He did yell, he didn’t throw a tantrum, not like you would’ve, not like you were about to by the time he stepped forward, crossing whatever ridiculous boundary you were so convinced he had to respect. You moved to shrink into yourself, but he grabbed you before you could collapse, catching you by the bicep and latching onto your hip, refusing to let you fall and make him seem like the bad guy. You already had your fun. You’d already gotten away with enough. You had to know he would put his foot down eventually, and you didn’t have the right to seem so shocked, when he finally did. “Just stop talking. Shut up. Don’t say a goddamn word until I tell you to, fucking brat.”

Now, now, you were crying, tears welling in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, your entire body trembling like he’d ever given you a reason not to trust him, like he’d ever hurt you a reason to think he had anything but your happiness in-mind. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not about the tears, not about the excuses you were stumbling through, and not about the way you were holding yourself, your arms crossed over your stomach and your nails embedded in your sides, a moment away from drawing blood. He just couldn’t bring himself to care.

You didn’t say anything, but he still shook his head, sighed, made a show of cupping your cheek and idly brushing away your tears. “It’s my fault,” He admitted, letting the disappointment seep into his voice, allowing his tone to dip into something superior. Compared to your whimpering, at least. “I trusted you to get better on your own, and I shouldn’t have. I thought you could pull yourself together, but clearly, I was wrong. You just can’t do anything on your own, can you?”

You looked like you wanted to say something, to argue. You didn’t, but you looked like you wanted to, and that was enough to make his heart skip a beat on its own.

“I’m tired of this.” Just as quickly as he took you up, he let you go, watching in silence as you struggled to stay on your feet. “Go to your room. Yours, not mine. I don’t want to look at you if you’re going to act like I’ve done anything but help you.”

You looked at him, at that, met his gaze for the first time since you decide doing so was a death-wish. It was only for a breath, a fraction of a second, but he still saw it – that spark, that light, that hint of something other than thoughtless, blank fear. It wasn’t positive, the adoration he would’ve liked or the resigned neutrality he would’ve tolerated, but it was something. It was something, and it had been so, so long since you’d given Keigo anything.

He couldn’t make you love him. He’d tried, he failed, and he’d tried again and made thing worse. It was over. He just couldn’t do it.

But, he was beginning to think you didn’t need to love him. Not as much as he loved you. Not at all, really.

Not if he could get you to hate him enough to make up the difference.

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dumdumsun · 3 years

Text

And Dusk

A/N: Just a heads up, the sensitive content in this chapter will be marked "<<<<<<" as the beginning and ">>>>>>" to signify the end. The racial slurs used in this chapter were targeted towards African Americans (and still are) and I chose these because I, myself, am African American and used them as a sort of “default” for any POC readers. ⚠️Please, never use these towards anyone. Whether it be in a “joking” manner or not. They are hurtful and were created to be that way⚠️ I wrote this chapter the way I did to bring awareness. Proceed with caution. Much love ❤️

Warnings: ⚠️racial slurs⚠️, violence, mentions of guns and dying/death

Word Count: 3707

—————————————

Chapter 3: The Frankel Footage

Shaking himself out of his shock, Five stood from his seat and hurried after his brother, grabbing onto his arm and stopping his strides. “The hell is wrong with you, Luther? I just told you the world’s gonna end in ten days!”

“Yeah, well, you’re always saying that.” Luther nonchalantly spoke before moving away, but Five intervened yet again.

“And so far, I’ve been right.” He hissed as Luther sighed and shook his head.

“Look, you want to go save the world? Knock yourself out, alright? I already got a job.”

“Wait, you work in this shithole?” The boy furrowed his brows.

“Yeah. Well, my boss owns the place,” Luther only received a nod from his brother, so he clarified. “I’m his body man.”

But this only made Five even more confused. “What’s that? Like, a masseuse or something?”

“Okay, you can make fun all you want, but I take good care of Mr Ruby.”

“Wait, Ruby. The Jack Ruby? The gangster who shot Oswald.”

Despite Five’s concern, Luther proudly smiled a smug smile as he glanced over at his boss. “Yeah. The one and only.”

“Well, it finally happened,” Five sighed. “That gorilla DNA has finally taken over your mind-”

“Hey, watch it, alright? Jack’s a good friend-”

“And you’re Number One. Numero Uno. Remember?”

Luther clenched his jaw and shook his head. “There is no Number One. Not anymore. Not in 1963,” When Five stared at him in disbelief, Luther sighed again. “Look, I’ve been stranded here alone for a year. What did you expect?”

Five scoffed. “I get it, alright? You watched Pogo die, the world exploded, and I marooned your big dumb ass in time. I’m sorry, okay? But I’m asking for your help, Luther. The Umbrella Academy needs you.”

“It doesn’t need me,” He slowly spoke to draw out his words. “It never did.”

“Luther, honey,” The waitress from earlier approached the two. “Jack’s about to lose it on some half-wit. A little help?”

“Ah, shit,” He groaned and began walking away. When Five tried yet again to stop him, he whirled on him, his lips pulled into a thin line. “Listen. You’re the genius who said we should jump, right? You’re the one who got us stuck here. And you’re the one who brought Vanya. So, if there is a doomsday coming, she’s probably the cause. And if I was gonna do something about it, it sure as hell is not gonna be with you. That’s (Y/N)’s job, being dragged around into your messes-”

“I don’t drag her into anything.” Five swallowed, blinking rapidly.

“Yeah? Well, she wasn’t stuck as a thirteen-year-old and constantly worrying about her kids until you showed up. I’m surprised she isn’t sick of you yet.” And with that, he stomped away to his boss. This time, Five let him go, his words sending a pang through his chest as he thought back on it. Grabbing his drink, he sighed and shook his head.

“Dad should’ve left him on the moon…” He muttered, taking a sip of his drink before moving to leave his seat. When he felt his jacket snag on something, he looked down to see an object in his pocket. Taking out the tape, he frowned and turned it over.

Date: 11/22/63

Subject: FRANKEL FOOTAGE

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

This world was unfamiliar to (Y/N). She knew she had to have been somewhere in America, but she didn’t know where. The cars, fashion and stores bringing the street she walked to life told her she had to have been in the sixties. But she didn’t want to believe it. Surely Five hadn’t time travelled that far? She had to have been dropped during some type of sixties-theme festival. But the voices suddenly beside her quickly prove her doubts wrong.

“What do we have here?”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a lost little colored girl.”

Tensing, (Y/N) continued her way down the sidewalk, slightly speeding up her pace, but the men fell into step beside her with ease, flanking her sides.

“You’re on the wrong side of town, girl.”

“Yeah, we don’t like coons around here.” One of them hissed right in her ear. Her eyes welled up with tears before the other shoved her forward.

“Gon now, get!” He ordered as if she were a dog. She realized that’s how they had seen her. An animal. Nothing more. Tripping on a crack in the sidewalk, she fell to the ground, smacking her face on the concrete. She choked out a sob as the two men cackled. And to make matters even worse, she felt the pitter patter of raindrops start to freeze her skin.

(Y/N) gasped out in shock when the men spit two wads of saliva in her face. She knew she must’ve looked a mess with spit and tears sliding down her cheeks and blood oozing from her nose. She hiccupped on her sobs and began to stand, much too tired from her previous fight with Vanya and literally being dropped from the sky to successfully do so. The men backed her up against a wall and one fisted the front of her vest before a voice called out.

“Take your hands off of my child!” Whipping around, the men were half expecting to find another target, but (Y/N) coughed and sputtered nonsense upon the person her gaze fell upon.

“M-Mom…?”

Before her was Grace, but… she wasn’t robotic in any sense. She could tell by the raw anger etched into her features. She took a brave step forward. “I said. Take your hands. Off my child.”

And that was another thing: her accent. (Y/N) was immediately comforted by the stern southern accent the woman shared with her attackers. It was a voice she never thought she needed. The two looked between Grace and (Y/N) with smirks. “You mean this lil ol’ jigaboo-”

“Is my daughter. Now you let her go before I call the police.”

“Woman, I don’t care if you call the police-”

Grace took it upon herself to step closer and grab the child by her arms, yanking her into her warm embrace. (Y/N) immediately latched onto her, quivering in her hold. The men scoffed and shook their heads, beginning to walk away. “Make sure to keep that thing on a leash if you’re gonna have it out, ma’am.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She growled before turning and walking back in the direction the girl came from. As they walked past the alleyway, Grace took out a handkerchief and began wiping the girl’s face clean of what the raindrops hadn’t already washed away. “It’s alright, hun, they aren’t gonna hurt you anymore.”

“T-Thank you.” (Y/N) sobbed and gently held her nose in pain. Grace crouched in front of her and gently held her face in between her hands.

“Don’t thank me, darlin’, it’s how everyone should be treatin’ you ‘round here… Where are your parents? I could take you to ‘em.”

(Y/N) thought for a long moment, watching as the rain soaked Grace’s hair and clothing. The woman didn’t seem to mind as she watched the girl before her swallowing thickly. (Y/N) skimmed over her current choices. She didn’t have any choice.

“I don’t have parents. I-I don’t remember them…”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“I’m tellin’ you, Reggie, she’s highly intelligent for a child her age.” Grace proudly presented (Y/N) to the man she had grown fond of over their time working together. (Y/N), however, was frozen in her spot. Sir Reginald Hargreeves. The man whose death she had wished upon for years, whose death had finally graced her existence, was back in her life. She flinched at the disapproving look on his face, much too acquainted with it by this point in her life. “And she’s very respectful. Talented, too, this girl can speak several languages.”

“You seem rather fond of this child.” The man observed as Grace squeezed her into her side.

“She’s my pride and joy.”

“And you cannot remember anything of your past, child?”

“N-No,” (Y/N) shook her head and stared down. “Not a lot. J-Just my name and birthday.”

Reginald hummed and stared her down with an unreadable expression. When she met his eyes again, he was crouched down to her level, his monocle clutched in his fist. “(Y/N), was it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be an honor to have your presence within my home, along with your mother.”

“O-Oh, that’s okay-”

“I insist. Besides, you have been living with her for almost half a year, correct? It is highly unlikely that she will share a home without you.”

“He’s right about that, hun,” (Y/N) glanced up at Grace, who was smiling warmly at her. “I’m not leavin’ you.”

(Y/N) could have cried.

And she did.

One year later, (Y/N) had been living quite the comfortable life with Grace and Reginald. She had been introduced to the ape, Pogo, for the second time since Grace first started working with him. As much as she loved being around the chimp, it brought back so many memories. She almost felt silly, looking after him sometimes knowing he had done the same for her in the original timeline.

Her relationship with Reginald was nothing she ever expected. He was gentle, well as gentle as Reginald Hargreeves could get, he cared for her, spoiled her, even. She wouldn’t have to ask for anything half the time. If he were to overhear a conversation between her and Grace about a dress she oh-so wanted, it would suddenly be laid out on her bed the next day. She usually had a say in dinner meals every Thursday and Sunday and Reginald listened intently whenever she would voice any discomfort or concerns with her living conditions. (Y/N) never had a real father, but she assumed this is what it was like to have one. She never wanted to let go of it.

For her birthday in 1963, she was surprised that he had actually gotten her a present. As she entered the parlor, she was met with the tiniest bark and an even tinier golden retriever, bounding up to her. She gasped and stopped low, letting him jump into her arms. She let him lick her face and giggled in the joy it brought her.

“Your mother said you would like it. Though I would never allow dogs in my house, I have come to understand that there are rules I must bend for you, my child.”

(Y/N) turned to her father. Yes, father. Reginald, also growing quite fond of their father-daughter bond formed between them, decided to adopt the girl. As much as his beliefs and his deep distaste for children protested. There was just something about this child. Or perhaps it was Grace’s insisting, reassuring him that he would make a wonderful father. (Y/N) was very hesitant at first for her own reasons she never shared, but eventually came around to the idea of being his daughter again.

This was the same Reginald Hargreeves who locked her in a dark room for five days straight, but also an entirely different man. Perhaps it was her fascination with the differences, or maybe she just wanted a real father for once.

“Thank you, Dad.” She softly smiled, the man nodding in response.

“But this is your pet, (Y/N). It is your responsibility. I will not find it in my study, in my bedroom, you are to train it yourself-”

“Can you-”

“And no, I will not help you pick out its name.”

The girl softly groaned and looked back down at her new puppy. Looking into its eyes, she smiled softly at a distant memory as a small child.

“Welcome to the family, Mr Pennycrumb.”

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

(Y/N) groaned when she felt the sunbeams of the early morning sunrise hit her eyelids, coloring her black vision with the stinging fire of orange. Rolling onto her other side, she stretched her blanket over her head. They were yanked away the next second, causing a whine to leave her lips. “Mom… Five more minutes.”

“I let you sleep in long enough, hun, it’s time to get up. You have a date with Preston this afternoon.” Grace gently pulled her daughter to sit up, giggling quietly at her look of disgust.

“Preston? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, let’s get goin’.” Grace patted her leg and walked to her door, waiting patiently. (Y/N) sighed and rubbed her face, letting her feet slide into her slippers. As they descended the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast, Reginald could hear his daughter’s sleepy complaining from his place at the table.

Setting his utensils down, he turned his head in their direction. “My child, how many times throughout each week must we have to repeat this conversation?”

“Until it starts making sense.” (Y/N) stepped into the dining room, now in her robe, and crossed her arms over her chest. Reginald sighed and stood from his chair at the table.

“You are one of my greatest accomplishments,” He began towards her. “There is no doubt in my mind that you would make a fine successor. I do not believe you will need a husband. In fact, you would be better off without another individual holding you back from what you are truly capable of.”

“But?” She raised a brow.

“But… I have grown to know you more than I expected… and I know that you would need someone to help manage your finances you inherit once I am gone. Preston is a fine young man who was born into this life, made into this life. He will take good care of you.”

(Y/N) knew there was only one person in this world who would truly take good care of her. But he wasn’t here, and she needed to play the part as the amnesiac adopted daughter, so she huffed and nodded. “Fine… I’ll go…”

“Thank you-”

“But only if Mr Pennycrumb can go, too.”

“Very well, but you will not be gifted another animal if you lose it.”

The outing wasn’t entirely bad. (Y/N) didn’t mind the picnic or the art museum, it was the company that made her blood boil. Preston is anything she would have expected out of him. This had been their seventh date, tenth of the ones he planned. (Y/N) sought out any opportunity she could to cancel on him to save herself from the unbearable three hours she would have to spend with the kid. He was arrogant, smug, selfish, narcissistic, and overbearing. Of course, this was not the Preston he presented to her parents. No, to them, Preston was ‘a fine man with a bright future ahead of him’, or as Grace would put it, ‘a delight to have around’. He laughed like a drunk, talked like a husband, and smelled like a man. All at the age of fifteen. (Y/N) had to remind herself on several occasions that she was mentally the older out of the two and to not stoop to his level when he got under her skin.

“Don’t you think, (Y/N)?” The voice brought her attention back to the boy beside her. She looked up from the grass they had been strolling through. When she hummed in question, he amusedly scoffed and side-step closer to her. “Never mind. I should have known you wouldn’t have been interested in politics.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” The girl raised a brow. At her confusion, he laughed and gently tapped the side of his head.

“You’ve always got that head of yours in the clouds. Or turned behind you- like right now.”

(Y/N) turned her head away from where she had been looking over her shoulder. “What? Sorry, Preston, I’m a little preoccupied today.”

“With what, exactly? You don’t seem to be the type of girl to have very many issues. Nothing to worry about.”

“And you wonder why I don’t listen to you.” She sighed as her puppy ran in between her legs, rolling in the grass once he was a few paces in front of them. Preston frowned in distaste and shook his head.

“You should really keep that thing on a leash, sweetheart.”

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, clenching her teeth as she folded her hands behind her back. “Really now?”

“Really. You know, I’m not very fond of dogs, so I’m not sure how it’ll work out once we’re married. I think we should get one after we have kids, you know? Just so the kids could grow up with it.”

(Y/N) quickly turned her head to the left, pointing out across the street. “Preston, would you look at that?”

“Look at what?” He gullibly looked in the direction, (Y/N) quickly checking the area before almost silently singing her tune. From her shadow, her clone formed and robotically walked behind the two. She quickly switched spots with it and ordered the clone to walk with Preston before scooping her puppy into her arms and rushing off in the opposite direction. Once she was behind a diner far away from their date location, she let out a sigh and gently patted her dog on the head.

“Were you sick of it, too?” She chuckled. Resting the back of her head against the brick wall she leaned on, she let out a slow breath and began to relax. The sound of guns cocking had her head snapping up so fast, she swore she could have dislocated it. Just down the end of the line of stores were three white-haired men, one in a milkman uniform, training their guns on her. (Y/N) didn’t waste a second tucking her dog in front of her and spinning around, charging down the opposite direction as bullets whizzed past her. She dodged them the best she could, jumping a few feet in the air at the ones that threatened to take their place in her feet. It was like a dance; the twisting, spinning and jumping, and she was to perform this dance until one of those bullets killed her if she didn’t find a way out soon. Sliding to the side of a clothing store for cover, she gently shushed her pet as she caught her breath.

The three sets of footsteps eventually found their destination and rounded the corner with skilled quickness, shooting at the girl until she was nothing more than a bloodied corpse on the ground, bullet holes lodged in almost every inch of her body. The three men nodded to each other and turned around, making their way out from behind the stores.

(Y/N) had already been down the street from her house by the time her attackers found the clone in her place. She couldn’t have been bothered to check herself for any wounds, too worried about Mr Pennycrumb’s potential bullet wounds. But the pup was perfectly, happily nuzzling into her arms and wagging his tail. This left (Y/N) to ponder.

Who the hell were those men?

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

“Is it on?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? There’s an ‘on’ button. Just- There’s something over- that jigga-ma-thing, whatever.”

“I hit the jigga-ma-thing!”

“Okay, well, just- Give it to me. I know how to do this.”

“Alright, here, here. Hurry up.”

“Okay, alright, let’s see…”

Lila didn’t look up from her task of painting poor Elliott’s toenails, his bindings he received after threatening the trio with a gun preventing him from moving too much. Which was beneficial to her, as it kept her from ruining the paint job. She softly smiled as she listened to the argument between the elderly couple on the film Five and Diego were intently watching. “They’re so cute,” She commented. “I love old couples. I’m always so proud of them for not murdering each other.”

Ignoring her, Diego turned to his brother from his seat on Elliott’s counter. “Why are we watching this?”

“Shush.” Five replied, eyes trained on the film before him, searching for any clue to the approaching apocalypse, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yeah, I… I’m Dan Frankel. And…”

“I’m Edna Frankel.”

“...Edna Frankel. We are in Dallas, Texas, to see the president. Today’s date is November 22, 1963.”

Five nodded as everyone’s attention was brought to the projected screen before them.

“That’s six days from now.” Lila spoke as Elliott thrashed about more against his bindings. Diego sat forward in interest.

“Holy shit. This is it. The grassy knoll. Kennedy’s about to get shot. How do you have this?”

“Hazel died to get me this footage,” Five answered. “It must be the key to stopping doomsday.”

“Hazel…?” Diego frowned, remembering the man he spent hours searching for and planning to kill to avenge the death of Eudora Patch.

“Long story.”

“What’s doomsday?” Lila looked up at the boy.

“Longer story.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Diego asked as Lila turned her head back to the film.

Five shrugged. “Well, he was killed before he could explain. But whatever he wanted us to see, it’s on this film.”

“This is very exciting.” The old man smiled before the sound of gunshots and screaming could be heard, the camera moving around in blurs due to the shock of the old woman filming.

“Oh, my god!”

“Oswald…” Diego whispered, setting his knife down as Five leaned in closer.

“The president!”

When the camera was steadied to record across the street, Five and Diego both stiffened in their spots at what their eyes caught. “Oh, no…” Five breathed and moved behind the projector, rewinding the film and scooting the cart backwards to zoom in closer. The room was silent as Diego stood to his feet and Five rounded the cart before standing beside his brother, directly in front of the film. “This can’t be…”

“Okay, you gonna fill me in now, boys?” Lila glanced between the two. “What the hell is this shit we’re watching?”

But she was ignored yet again.

“No, that’s impossible…”

“Clearly, it’s not.”

“What… What is it?” Elliott muffled past the gag in his mouth.

A beat of silence went by before the two Hargreeves whispered in unison,

“Dad.”

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua #tua x reader #tua fanfic #tua five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #five x reader #of starlight #and dusk

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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

Text

𝕭ʟᴜᴇ 𝕳ʏᴅʀᴀɴɢᴇᴀ

_________________________

sᴜɢᴀʀ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ!sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs x sᴜɢᴀʀ ʙᴀʙʏ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you come home from california after a year back to your old man

(Heavily inspired by Heroin by Lana Del Rey + Lightly by Old Money by Lana Del Rey)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs:: major angsttt, smut 18+ minors dni plz, bit of fluff, age gap

TW/CW: past drug use [reader], post-rehab

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: lana del rey’s music gives me major sugar daddy!steve vibes idky lol

(also brief description of ‘reader’ written to have hair that can moved from the face is like one sentence sorry but ur giving daddy steve a bj)

___________________________

You grabbed your bags and walked to the pick up spot at the JFK airport. It’s been a year since you’ve been in New York and you missed the city terribly. You especially missed your old man.

You stood for a minute scanning the bodies that littered across the floor until your eyes met those beautiful cerulean blue eyes you spent so many hours looking into. Instantly tears brimmed your eyes watching him move swiftly past the people dressed so casually unlike his usual stature sporting that incredible all black suit he always wore.

He looked tired and drained. Like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Y/n,” he came up to you, cupping your face before pressing his lips to yours passionately, desperately.

“Fuck, Stevie. I missed you so much,” you cried.

“I missed you too. I thought about you all the time; everyday, every hour, every second,” he hugged you tightly.

“Stevie, I wanna go home,” you whispered against his lips.

“Let’s go home,” he told you.

Home.

It’s been so long since you’ve been home.

You got to the car and Steve told you to just wait in the car as he put your bags in the trunk. You smiled softly at him before slipping in the passenger's seat waiting to go home like you’ve been dreaming about since the day you left. Steve quickly slipped into the driver’s seat himself and drove off eager to go home and finally hold you close again.

The car ride was quiet. You watch the blurry lights through the wet glass window of the car and your mind could help but wander back to the day Steve saved your life.

One Year Ago

You stumbled your way through the elevator doors with a lazy smile on your face.

“Stevie!!” you screamed when you saw him sitting at the counter with a whiskey in hand.

“You’re late,” he said quietly.

“Sorry,” you said.

“Why were you out so late? I gave you a curfew,” she said sternly.

You weren’t giving him much time, your body was on fire. You unzip your dress, not so gracefully, strippping out of your clothes. You pranced around in your panties and a bra giggling and running around asking Steve to catch you but he was having none of your shit.

“Get your ass over here right now!” his voice boomed startling you.

He pressed the back of his hand against your forehead and roamed his hands along your body anyway but sexually. Your skin was extremely overheated and flushed. He was pissed. You had promised him the reckless behavior was over, but you couldn’t.

You were an addict.

“What the hell are you on?” he said firmly.

“Guess?” you were absolutely not taking this seriously.

“I’m not gonna ask twice; tell me!”

“Molly,” you whispered shamefully.

“God fucking dam-” he rubbed his face in frustration.

"Why do you even care so much you're- I- I'm nothing but a stupid sugar baby, anyway, " you slurred your words.

“You're more than that, and I know you fucking know it. You promised me you were going to stop! I’m done, I'm done” he breathed out. His chest felt like it was tightening, he couldn’t breathe anymore. He felt nauseous.

“No! No, no, baby; please!” you cling onto him like a child.

“You could’ve been hurt! What would happen if that shit was laced with something that could have killed you, hell taking it alone in the first place could have been the last straw! I’m doing this shit with you anymore.”

You cried, no you sobbed hysterically. You need Steve, he was your everything, your rock, your hope, your love. You knew you were a huge mess but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t know how. Didn’t know where to begin, who to go to. You felt alone.

You grew surrounded by money but when you moved to New York, you succumbed to the temptations and your parents were done with your shit. Meeting Steve, agreeing to this sugar baby thing was simply to use his money for drugs and alcohol, that’s all you lived for. Your life was over, might as well fuck yourself over while you're at it.

But you fell in love.

Goddamn, the man was perfect. He was treated with so much love and gentleness and compassion. You hadn’t felt so loved since you cut your ties with your parents and it hurt so good. You wanted to quit for him. The first night he found you disheveled and fucked, you were so embarrassed. You promised him it would stop that you were gonna be clean; but that only lasted twelve hours.

He should’ve ended it. He should’ve stopped whatever this relationship was. He told himself it was one time thing but once turned into twice, then four times until you went out every night getting high off your ass with anything that was available.

Steve couldn’t take it anymore. But like you, he fell in love too. He loved you. He really loved you. He couldn’t imagine his life without anyone else and the thought of losing you made him terrified.

“I’m done! I can’t sit here waiting for you every night wondering if you went too far! Staring at my fucking goddman phone waiting for the day they call and tell me you killed yourself! I can’t do it! You promised me you were done with this shit but here you are high off your ass again with molly,” he cried. Tears streamed down his face, his heart pained at the sight you breaking down.

“I need help, please,” you whimpered.

“Are you going to let me help you?” he sniffled.

“Yes! Please, help me,” you sobbed.

“Pack your things. You’re leaving for California tomorrow,” he said.

“What?”

“There is a rehabilitation center in California and I want you to go there,” he whispered.

“No-”

“Please, Y/n. it’s only for a year-”

“A year! No, I can't be away from you that long, please no!” you sobbed even more.

“It’s for the best,” he tightly holds you down.

“Why not here-”

“It’s for the best. I promise I’ll be waiting right here for you when you get back. I swear,” he looked into your eyes.

“Stevie,” you cupped his face, “I don’t wanna leave you.”

“I know; I don;t want you to leave but I promise you’re gonna get on that airplane and you’re gonna come back and tell me everything’s ok, yeah?” he pressed his forehead.

“Ok. You make me feel I can change. I’m gonna come back and tell you that I have really changed,” you promised.

“I believe it,” he smiled.’

“Maybe California is good. Something about this city makes my head go crazy. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sick of it,” you told him.

“I love you; so much,” he whispered those words for the first time.

“I love you too,” you cried.

“You ok?” Steve pulled you from your thoughts.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m just- I’m really happy to be home,” you choked out.

Steve grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips kissing you softly. His eyes stayed on the road every now and then glancing at you like a dream come true. You pulled up to the building where you two lived and Steve asked the entourage to take your things up for you. He lifted you in his arms with a beautiful hopeful smile and carried you to the apartment.

When the elevator door opened he practically ran to the bedroom nuzzling his face in your neck kissing lightly. You somewhat took in the familiar surrounding noticing no change since you’d last been there. It was bittersweet. He hadn’t changed a thing since you left.

“I missed you so fucking much, baby,” he whispered.

“Steve,” you sighed, combing your fingers through his hair.

“I’m never gonna let you go again.”

“You won’t have to. It’s all over; no more clubs, no drinking, no drugs, none of it. That girl, you used to call the queen of New York City, she’s gone. ”

“You’re still my queen,” he smirked, making you chuckle.

“I’m so fucking proud of you. You are so strong,” he praised.

You grabbed his neck and pulled him forward crashing your lips against his. You molded perfectly against like you were made for him. Like everything had led up to this moment. It felt different this time; his hands touching you delicately.

You two have had sex many of times but this time it was different.

He peeled your shirt off your body pressing kisses all over your chest. His tongue flicking over your nipple making you gasp softly. His hands gripped at your waist as he brushed his nose between the valley of your breasts.

You craved his skin on yours, practically clawing his shirt off his body. He got the memo and briefly sat up ripping his shirt off his body before falling back on top of you. His hips settled between yours and you could feel his growing erection poking through the material of his flimsy sweats.

You pushed him off your body, flipping him so you could straddle his waist; smiling devilishly as you brought your hands up to your breasts to massage them. Steve growled at the angelic sight above him pulling your hands away to replace them.

He twisted your nipples as you slowly grind your hips over his for a moment. That moment quickly died as you snaked down his body curling your finger over his pants. You languidly pulled them down his legs letting his erected cock spring free. You moaned at the sight, haven’t been able to see it since you left that fateful morning.

You wrapped your hands around the base of his cock and stroked his dick slowly pulling wanton moans from him that were music to your ears. You leaned forward and licked teasingly along the tip before swirling your tongue around it making him groan. His hand went to your head combing your hair from your face gathering it in a messy ponytail.

Your lips wrapped around his cock perfectly just that way he likes it; like you’ve a thousand times before. He looked to the ceiling and sighed at the pleasure you were giving to him. He was never one to make much noise during sex but he was craving your mouth wrapped around him; he couldn’t contain the moans and grunts that wanted to come out. He couldn’t wait until he’s buried between your thighs.

You cheeks hollowed around his dick sucking hard before you take him all at once repeating over and over again. Steve’s hold on your hair tightened with every bob of your head thrusting his hip in time with your rhythm. Hitting the back of your throat, Steve’s hip stuttered and his legs shook approaching his orgasm fast.

“No, I wanna come in you, baby girl,” he panted, pulling you off of his dick. You quickly discarded your panties before climbing back on top of him to straddle him, knees on either side on his hips. You cupped his face kissing him senselessly; passion and lust and most importantly love enveloping you two.

You lifted your hips briefly as Steve lined his cock with your soaking entrance and slowly sunk down allowing him to stretch you impeccably. You moaned in sync, like you were becoming one again after so long being unable to hold each other.

His arms wrapped around holding close as you waited a bit to adjust to his size again. He peppered faint kisses along your neck and collar bone, nipping playfully at your skin too. You felt so full and incredible basking in his attention and the feeling of your walls wrapped around him again.

You moved your hips back and forward, your clit grinding against his pelvis making you shiver in pleasure. You face tucked tightly in the crook of Steve neck, your thrusts getting faster and faster. Steve’s hands moved to your hips lifting you slightly before slamming you back down on his cock harshly. This made you throw your head with a cry of pleasure, strings of curse words flowing from your mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie. I missed your cock so much,” you whined.

“I missed you too baby,” he grunted.

You looked at his face watching it contort with pleasure, his eyes completely screwed shut overwhelmingly. Sweat lined his forehead, the shorter pieces of hair sticking to it. You brought your hand to it brushing his hairs back so you could see his face in it’s fullest beauty.

He peeled his eyes open, staring directly into eyes and breathed heavily in time with you. For a single moment between you both, time stopped. It felt as if the world was gone and all that mattered was right now; you being back in your old man’s arms again, the love of your life.

You couldn’t help the quick glance at his red swollen lips, desire to kiss them again overcoming you. You leaned forward capturing his lips for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, but it's something you’ve ever got tired of. The way slightly chapped lips molded perfectly with yours.

“I love you, baby,” he moaned.

“I- fuck!” you couldn’t even speak anymore when Steve’s thrusts became harder and faster desperate to chase both your’s and his orgasms.

“Look at me baby,” he growled, “You were fucking made for me. No one can ever fuck you like I can. No is ever gonna take care of you like I do. And no one, absolutely fucking no one, is ever gonna love you as much I do.”

Tears streamed down your face; overwhelmed with love and desire and lust. Steve saved your life and you owe him everything. You loved him evermore; he is everything. Steve kissed you again, addicted to your lips, tasting the salty tears that came from your hopeful and loving eyes. He wiped the tears away with his thumb.

“Stevie, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered.

“Come all over my cock baby girl. You deserve it,” he whispered.

Your body shook as you reached your high. Chanting Steve's name like prayer, like it was the only word you knew to say. Steve’s rutted his hips into one last time spilling his seed inside you, hot cum coated your velvety walls. You collapsed forward onto him and he held you tightly.

Your fragile body trembled against him and Steve's heart ached a bit. He knew you were overwhelmed, hell so was he. But he was so utterly happy to have you back. There were so many nights where Steve lied awake at night, unable to sleep without you, day-dreaming of a future with you when you’d come home. He knew you were a strong woman and he knew you were going to come back to him healthy and stronger than before.

He remembers the day he came back to New York after leaving you in California. He was with his old pal Bucky at a local bar in Manhattan. He’s always really known inside that he’d fallen in love with you, he’d proven already that he’d do anything for you. But that night is when he finally admitted it out loud to himself and to others. Steve can’t imagine his future with anyone else but you and he’ll be damned if something happened to you.

“Sweet girl, I love you with all my heart,” he whispered, stroking your back softly.

“Even when I’m old; when I shine from words and not from beauty?” you whispered.

“I will love you evermore,” he said.

He whispered more sweet things as you cried holding him tightly spending your first night back together in his arms. Before, you didn’t know where life was gonna take you; either to the moon or six feet under. But Steve swept you away to a promiseland and you’ll follow him blindly. It didn’t matter where life was going to take you next as long as you were with your old man, you were happy.

Completely and utterly happy.

=====================

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Time After Time | dark!Neil (Tenet) x reader

summary: it’s tricky when feelings get involved in an organization like tenet. still, you’ve never been happier than you are with your boyfriend Neil, even if he’s a bit elusive and a very erratic coworker. for all his secrets, you never expected what he would tell you the day he finally proposed.

word count: 5.5k

warnings: smut!! (dub con, for extremely complex reasons), almost kinda stockholm syndrome?, yandere/soft!dark neil, breeding kink, confusing time travel stuff

"What are we doing here?” you asked as you looked around the safehouse— like any secret Tenet hideaway, it was sleek but sterile, nestled in a historic neighborhood in southeastern Moscow. It was sort of how you remembered from the last time you’d been here for work, but somebody had rearranged the living room and changed out the rug. (Knowing the nature of your business, you were pretty confident you knew why the rug was replaced.)

Neil had made it clear that you weren’t coming here for a mission, but never said what you were here for, and had kept up the veil of secrecy all week long. At first, you had assumed that since tomorrow was your four-year dating anniversary, it must have something to do with that, but the more you pondered the potential options, the more you were unsure.

You turned to look at him and found him wearing his signature smirk, the one that made you sure he was up to something— but you still didn’t know what.

“Seriously, Neil, just tell me!” you pleaded with a laugh, shoving him playfully.

“We’re here,” he explained slowly, “because I need to ask you something.”

He sank down onto one knee, clutching your hand in his, as you looked down at him with wide eyes. "Oh— oh my god,” you barely managed to stammer, entirely breathless.

“As soon as I met you, I knew you were the love of my life,” Neil began with that smile of his that always melted your heart. “I knew that I had to do everything in my power to make you as happy as you make me, to have you with me until the end of time— whenever that actually comes.”

You laughed a little, but it fell into a sob of joy as he reached into his jacket and pulled a ring out of his pocket, brandishing it to you.

“Darling, will you be my wife?” he asked, almost sounding like he was a little nervous that you’d say ‘no’, for some reason.

“Neil,” you whispered, “of course— yes, yes!”

He popped up and kissed you, smiling too hard for it to be a very effective kiss, though it was a perfect one nonetheless. You felt him slip the ring on your finger and you felt like you were floating on air. It was even more surreal than the first time you were inverted.

“I’m so glad you said yes,” he admitted with a sigh of relief against your lips. You pulled back from the kiss and looked up at him, bewildered but overjoyed.

“Were you really worried I’d say no?” you scoffed incredulously.

“Terrified,” he laughed, and you laughed too, kissing him again quickly before launching into the first of so many questions you wanted to ask.

“When did you— how did you—?”

“I got the ring last month,” he explained. “I thought about waiting longer but I was so tired of hiding it from you. Then it was just a matter of getting you here.”

“Don’t take this as me criticizing your proposal,” you giggled, “but I have to ask: why here?”

He sighed a little, smirking slightly, and looked away before catching your gaze again. “You’re gonna think I’m a bit crazy—”

“Already do, continue,” you winked.

“But this is where we first met.”

He was right; you did think he was crazy. You furrowed your brow and laughed nervously. “Neil, we met at a coffee shop, the one by my old apartment. I didn’t work here then, you recruited me yourself.”

He chuckled slightly, turning your confusion into an eerie sense of nervousness. “Sometimes you amaze me with your naivete, darling. This is where we first met, the first time.”

Gingerly, you pulled your hands away from his.

“I didn’t recruit you, originally. I was here, working, when a close friend of mine came in and introduced me to the newest member of the team. It was you… and you captured my heart, instantly. Only problem was…" he trailed off, chewing his lip as he glanced away.

“Tell me, Neil,” you demanded quietly.

“You’d captured someone else’s heart, too. And he had already married you.”

You stood up instantly, walking away a little before turning back to stare at him in bewilderment. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing; you could hardly stand on your wobbly legs anymore. “I… I had a husband?”

“Yeah, met him once; seemed like a nice guy,” he shrugged. “But he wasn’t right for you.”

“And how’s that?”

“Because he wasn’t me.”

You shook your head, terrified to imagine the ways Neil had tampered with the flow of time for something as trivial as an infatuation with you.

“I tried to hide my feelings for you, darling, really; we were just coworkers for a long time, I kept it strictly professional. But the more I got to know you, the more I grew to love you. I knew I couldn’t be happy just being your friend— you’re my everything. I tried to tell you— but you wouldn’t listen,” he shook his head. “You told me you loved your husband. You told me you had just found out you were pregnant.”

His words hit you like a train and you stumbled back slightly, bracing yourself against a credenza to try to keep from falling to the floor.

“I realized I had to go back,” he continued, becoming a bit more passionate as he explained his plan. “You couldn’t be convinced if you were pregnant with his child. But if I was going to invert myself to try to confess my love for you sooner, I figured it would be easiest if I took it a step further and avoided the whole marriage itself. You had told me once about the day you met him. So, I went and found you in that coffeeshop, the day before. And I recruited you to Tenet. Truth was, we could’ve used you a lot sooner, so it was advantageous to the organization as well— which is why I got approved to be inverted by the boss himself.”

That hurt. He was Neil’s friend, but he was your friend, too. Had he known that when Neil went back to recruit you, he would irreparably alter the course of your life? Or had he only realized later and decided not to try to correct it?

“Don’t look so heartbroken, darling,” he pouted, stepping forward and reaching out to gently rub your shoulder. “We’re finally together. Things are finally the way they should’ve been from the very beginning.”

You pushed his hand away and averted your gaze, unable to look at him anymore. "I'm sorry, Neil, I can't do this— I can't live a lie," you shook your head, beginning to step away.

“No, you can’t go,” he breathed, desperation apparent in his tone along with his expression. “You can’t go! I finally got it right this time!”

“Is that why you were afraid I’d say no?” you realized with wide, watery eyes. “Because I said it before?”

“Yes,” he admitted, faster than you expected. “But—”

“How many times?”

There came the silence, his nostrils flaring as he crossed his arms and looked away.

“How many times did I reject your proposal, Neil?”

“...Fourteen.”

“Oh my god,” you sobbed, “Neil, you— you never gave me a choice, did you? From the beginning? Every time I tried to get away from you—”

“You always knew you belonged with me,” he posited fiercely. “You always knew, it was why you kissed me that night, a year from now, on the bridge in Oslo.”

“That wasn’t me!” you cried. “I was never married, Neil, I was never pregnant, I never kissed you on any godforsaken bridge! You undid it all, and now you’re holding what I never did against me?”

“Even then you knew we were meant to be together,” he explained, stepping a little closer; out of love for the man you thought he was, you had a moment of sympathy for the man he had become, and let him pull you closer and cradle your face in his hands. He wiped a stray tear from your cheek as he smiled down at you.

It almost felt right for a moment, but you couldn’t trick yourself into believing this was anything but wrong. "I'm sorry, god, I'm so sorry," you whispered hoarsely as you turned to walk away— but he chased you and spun you back around, overpowering you as you tried to wriggle from his grasp.

“After everything I did for you,” he growled, grabbing your wrists tightly when you tried to get away, “you can’t just walk away from me.”

“You didn’t do any of this for me, Neil,” you spat as you struggled, “you did this for yourself. You stole my life!”

“I saw your life, it was shit without me, okay?”

"But at least it was mine!"

He grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you to the wall, making you yelp as he glared at you, eyes wild and teeth bared. “I’ll just go back and do it again. I’ll do it a million times until you stay with me forever, I swear. So what’s the use in fighting me? You’ll say yes, eventually. Why don’t you save us both some time— in a sense— and just accept it now?”

This was a side of Neil you hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t livid, he wasn’t violent (at least, not to the level you knew he could be), but he was undoubtedly threatening you… and you knew that he was right. More than ever you were sure that he was going to keep doing this, keep taking you through the same loop until he got the outcome he wanted. It was horrifying to imagine, but at least this way you could know the truth. Maybe you could even find a way to escape him someday— you couldn’t even imagine how, but you might come up with something later. You had all the time in the world, after all.

He softened slightly as he must have realized you were considering it, reaching down to pull your hands into his. You glanced over at the sparkling diamond on your ring finger, remembering how ecstatic you had been to wear it just a few minutes ago. Now it was a tiny gold shackle, each glimmer of the stone like a silent taunt.

Devastated, but with nowhere else to turn, you began to sob and allowed him to embrace you and pull you into him. He held you close as you cried into his shoulder, terrified and confused and seeking comfort even if it was from the man who had imprisoned you in time.

“Shh,” he soothed gently, “it’s going to be alright, darling, take some deep breaths for me. Can you do that? In—” he inflated his chest, guiding you to breathe with him, which you did to the best of your ability—” and out…”

Smooth breaths were difficult with sobs vibrating your lungs, but you eventually managed to stabilize yourself as he guided you through a few more. You resented that he knew you so well to be able to calm you down; you resented that your body trusted him enough for it to actually work.

“That’s it,” he praised softly, “you’re okay, it’s okay…”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating the way your face looked through the lacy white veil. Silently, you wondered if this was how you looked at your first wedding; the one that never really happened, to the man you never got the chance to meet. You liked to imagine that you looked happier than this, that your eyes were filled with excitement rather than resignation.

A knock at the door didn’t even tear you from your trance, nor did the sound of it opening; only Neil’s reflection appearing beside yours in the mirror made you snap back into reality, if only slightly.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your ear.

“Bad luck…” you mumbled. “It’s bad luck,” you began again, “for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

“I think we’ve had enough bad luck for a lifetime already,” he joked, making you furrow your brow and turn around, looking up at him.

He bore a startling resemblance to the man you’d fallen in love with, to the man you’d been ecstatic to marry when he got down on one knee for you in a nearly-abandoned safehouse in Moscow. Even the way he smiled at you, his gaze so gentle as it scanned your face, was exactly the way he’d looked at you a thousand times— when you first met, as well. The first time for you, at least. He’d known you for years then; it was no wonder that he looked at you with such love, struck up a conversation that perfectly targeted your interests. He must’ve spent years practicing to be your perfect man, until he finally got tired of the lie and trapped you in his twisted idea of the truth.

It made you question his motives for appearing suddenly and spoiling the surprise of you in your wedding gown— a sight he must have been dreaming of for years.

“Did I leave you at the altar?” you asked, below your breath. “Is that why you’re here? You came back to stop me?”

He chuckled lightly and brushed his fingers over your face. “I don’t know yet. This is the first time.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “How can I trust you? How can I know you haven’t said that every time?”

He didn’t answer, instead leaning in to kiss you gently. You closed your eyes, accepting that you could never really know the truth anymore. Maybe someday you would become comfortable with unknowing, or at least complacent enough to tolerate it.

Walking down the aisle felt sort of like walking toward the gallows, but instead of death waiting for you at the end, there was a life of futility, an existence guided not by destiny or decision but by derangement: one man’s fight, against God and nature, to keep you to himself and steal you from the life you were once meant for.

You managed to keep your footsteps steady, glancing briefly to the pews scattered with parse friends and family— wasn’t much time for either of those with the kind of work you did. All the time in the world, but not enough time for a real life. That was why it had been so easy to fall for Neil, since he was one of a few people you spent significant time with. Had that always been the nature of the job? Or an orchestration by Neil himself, separating you from others until you couldn’t choose anyone but him?

Thankfully, you managed to get through the wedding without crying more than was appropriate or screaming at him or trying to run away. You exchanged the vows and the rings, you kissed each other, the whole shebang. Occasionally you actually managed to enjoy yourself, in those moments that you forgot this was all a hollow facade, greeting guests and listening to toasts and dancing with Neil— your new husband.

You forced yourself to keep up the image of a happy bride for the sake of your friends, and everyone who came here in expectation of a fun wedding. It was what they deserved, even if it was costing you everything.

But once they were gone, you didn’t know how to play the part anymore. You didn’t know how to swallow down the sick rising in your throat as Neil led you to the honeymoon suite, how to smile back at him when he looked at you with so much joy.

You didn’t know how to prepare yourself for what you knew he expected.

“I… should change out of this dress,” you realized once you were alone in the hotel room together, and he nodded his approval. You knew if you looked at yourself in the mirror, you would cry, so instead you focused on getting out of your uncomfortable gown. The lacy white lingerie underneath was intimidating, not for what it was but for what it symbolized. You couldn’t go back out there like this, obviously— so you grabbed one of the puffy white robes, the hotel’s logo stitched onto the breast pocket, and you threw it on as you stormed out of the bathroom and directly to the balcony.

Tears threatened to burn your eyes as you looked out over the London skyline. It was stunning, and it made you appreciate that you should be thankful for the freedoms you did have. There was a big, beautiful world out there and you had the means and the motive to explore it all, if you wanted— you’d already seen more than most.

But you still mourned for the life you never lived. Some would argue that in an infinite number of alternate universes, you had the choice to leave him if you wanted to; and apparently, from what Neil had implied, you usually took it. Yet, that was useless to you now. The irony was not lost on you that you would be so spoiled as to hate your life when you were standing on the balcony of a luxurious hotel, in a gown that cost more than your first degree, with a gorgeous new husband and more money than either of you would ever have any use for. You knew you were being petulant. But something deeper longed for freedom, with everything it cost. Does it matter how decadent a cage is, if you are still trapped in it?

The balcony door opened behind you, and you defiantly sniffled, quickly wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

“Darling?” Neil gently called to you. “Is everything alright?”

You didn’t answer, fearing the waver in your voice would give you away.

“I know it’s all a little… overwhelming,” he relented, his voice coming closer along with his footsteps. “But you really have nothing to worry about. I think you’ll rather like it.”

“Like what?”

He paused for a bit before he replied. And when he did, he said it like it was obvious: “Being my wife.”

You turned to face him, expecting rage in your voice but hearing only sadness. “And if I don’t? You’ll just… go back, and do it again until I do?”

He sighed a little, seeming hurt by the question. “Please, darling, it’s our wedding night,” he cooed, “you can’t hate me. Let me remind you how good we are together…”

His touch was distantly familiar, and against your better judgement you relaxed a bit and let him pull you closer, his cheek brushing against yours as he spoke beside your ear.

“I never inverted for this,” he explained with a whisper, fingertips grazing over your arm. “I didn’t learn your kinks, memorize your body and then go back to impress you from the beginning. The first time we were together… it was the first time for both of us. And it was perfect. Do you remember?”

You nodded.

“Tell me,” he instructed, lifting your chin to tenderly kiss your neck.

“Paris,” you sighed. “We were posing as lovers to check in to a hotel without arousing suspicion. I’d been enamored with you since I first met you and I thought maybe you felt the same way, but I told you we couldn’t be together because of Tenet…”

“But I kissed you anyway,” he reminded you.

“And I didn’t care about Tenet anymore,” you remembered. “I just needed to feel you. And we made love for hours— nearly missed our signal to get out of the building.”

He chuckled lightly against your skin, his fingers leaving goosebumps where they travelled across your back. “It was worth it,” he decided. “It was beautiful.”

You pulled back and looked up at him, finding so much love in his eyes, and you searched desperately within yourself for a way to love him in return again after what he’d done.

Swallowing, you slid your fingers into his hair and examined his face one more time, illuminated in the faintly bluish glow of the city lights.

“Go back,” you whispered.

“What?”

“I need you to go back,” you repeated. “To the day you proposed. Don’t tell me the truth this time.”

Realization dawned on his face, somber but calm.

“I’ll be yours, Neil,” you promised, “forever, like you wanted. But I can’t live like this. I can’t live knowing what you’ve done. And I can’t live with myself if I know that I gave in to you.”

“I hate to leave you on our wedding night,” he argued, turning away slightly— but you held his face and pulled him back to look at you.

“Do this for me,” you pleaded. “Consider it a wedding present.”

He gave you a small, sad smile before he embraced you again. "Anything for you," he whispered as he kissed you on the top of your head.

Neil all but kicked the door down as he carried you in his arms, unable to break the kiss even for a moment to open the door properly.

He stumbled around the room a bit before he finally tossed you onto the bed, eliciting a girlish squeal as the puffy layers of your wedding gown's elaborate skirt flipped up over your head. Growling playfully as he climbed atop you and slotted himself between your legs, you pushed your dress out of the way to look up at him.

As your laughter died down and you examined his face, you were compelled to reach up and hold his jaw in your hand; he turned his face slightly to kiss your palm as you caressed his cheek.

"I love you," you sighed as you brushed a stray strand of hair back out of his face.

"I love you too," he smiled, "more than you could ever know."

You rolled your eyes. "There goes my husband with his crypticness again."

He hummed at the title, kissing you again. You figured you were lucky he didn’t rip the dress as he got you out of it, growling when he saw your lacy white lingerie underneath. “You really are too good to me, darling,” he purred, leaning down to capture a nipple between his teeth through the fabric until your back arched. “All wrapped up for me like a pretty little present…”

You whined when he slipped his fingers down between your legs, toying with you and refusing to just pull the panties aside and get on with it. Of course he had to draw it out, savor every inch of you, but did he have to drive you so crazy along the way?

"Neil, please," you whimpered, "need you…"

"I know," he soothed between heavy breaths, kissing down your chest and stomach until he reached where you'd nearly soaked through your flimsy lace. He kissed your swollen clit right through the fabric— damn him that just that little touch made you moan and grab his hair. He loved seeing the effect he had on you, it was clear by the way he grinned and did it again, a little firmer, relishing in the way you squirmed.

Finally, he pulled your panties aside; although of course he did it tantalizingly slow before sliding his tongue through your folds, moaning lowly when you accidentally pulled his hair a bit.

He looked so damn good with his face between your thighs, staring up at you and holding you in place with his petrifying gaze. His eyes were always uncharacteristically dark when he did this to you, like he'd been waiting all his life for this moment. Like the taste of you drove him wild.

You shuddered when he pushed his tongue inside you, instantly putting pressure against the most delicate places inside you. When the pleasure threatened to become too intense and you instinctively tried to squirm away, his strong hands gripped your thighs and held you down nearly effortlessly, likely leaving marks on your skin for you to notice tomorrow, to remind you that you were his. As if the ring wasn’t enough.

“Fuck,” you groaned, “please— please let me come.”

You didn’t always ask him for permission, but he always gave it when you did. So you weren’t expecting him to grin and stop his task to suck a hickey onto your thigh. “Not quite yet,” he purred. “I need you to ask really, really nicely…”

“Um,” you stalled, distracted by watching him leave a trail of marks along your skin with his teeth, “please… don’t stop, Neil, please let me come… I’ll do anything, you know I will.”

“That’s already true,” he reminded you, snarling as he gave your pussy a sudden spank; you yelped and jolted from the impact, but it ended with a moan and more wetness gathering at your hole. “You can’t be so obedient all the time and try to use it as a bargaining tool, darling. You know better than that. Offer me something I don’t have.”

“If you let me come,” you pondered your potential options as you bit your lip and rocked your hips up in hopes of friction, “I’ll… make dinner, every night, for a week—”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“A month!” you blurted out instead.

“You’re negotiating against yourself,” he chuckled, slapping you right on your clit and making you cry out. “And you’re not much of a cook.”

You were teetering on the edge, desperate for any leverage you could grapple onto, keening for just a touch more stimulation to bring you the rest of the way— and you were so fucking close. You could only think of one thing Neil wanted, that he didn’t have, that you could give. And it was a stupid idea, but you needed to offer him something fast before those dreaded spanks between your thighs made you come before he’d given permission.

“We can fuck on a mission,” you announced through your teeth. Finally, you felt like you had his attention. The only time that had ever happened was the one time you let it happen— the first time. The next day you’d had a long conversation about how you weren’t going to let feelings interfere with the job; he agreed, and since then the two of you had done a pretty good job of separating business and pleasure. Although he did occasionally get irritated with your work in the field and take it out on you that night in bed, but that doesn’t count, right?

“Really?” he mused. “Whatever happened to boundaries? What happened to ‘respecting the other team members’?”

“They don’t need to know,” you explained. “Please, Neil, I really really need to cum.”

He pressed a thumb to your clit and drew slow, relaxed circles— just slow and relaxed enough to make sure you couldn’t come from it. You sobbed and let your head fall back, exhausted of his teasing. “How can you be sure you’ll be discreet enough? You’re not exactly… subtle,” he smirked, your moans now exactly proving his point.

“Can’t be loud with my mouth full,” you countered, and his smile finally fell. You finally had a bit of power back.

“You’d really suck me off on a mission?”

“If you can promise to keep quiet,” you chuckled.

He growled a bit as he dove back in, the sudden pleasure forcing a deep moan from your lips. “Fuck,” he mumbled against you, “so dirty for me, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agreed as you bit down on your lip. “God, I’m close, just don’t stop…”

“As long as you keep up your end of the deal,” he smirked, and you nearly forced his head back down between your legs but thankfully, he kept his mouth shut after that— well not quite shut, just busy, and before you knew it the pressure that built in your gut finally flowed over and you sobbed his name at the peak of your orgasm.

He kept going for just a moment too long, sending white hot shocks up your spine from the overstimulation, but thankfully he slowed down and pulled back, licking his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

With that out of the way, and you nearly melted into the bed at this point, he sat up and hastily opened his belt and fly while he gazed down upon you with a burning hot stare.

"I should return the favor," you offered, sitting up slightly and reaching to wrap your hand around his length, but he shook his head.

"I’ll get my chance, but right now I just need to be inside you,” he explained gruffly. “Can’t spend another moment without being buried in this gorgeous cunt of yours; I might die if I can’t have you now.”

"Well, if it's a matter of life and death," you grinned, poorly faking indifference as he shoved you back and caged you in, guiding his cock to your dripping wet entrance.

“Ready, darling?” he prompted quietly as you felt the head of him prodding at you. You nodded, and yet you still gasped and clutched his forearms when he pushed into you. It was like the first time every time, with the way his thick length speared into you and stretched you open, but you craved it regardless; by now it wasn’t even pain, just raw sensation that pushed your limits in all the right ways. He sighed a bit when his hips met yours, already pulling back and setting the pace of his thrusts.

Even with how wet you were, there was friction just from the size of him, but it was the right kind of friction— a smooth, slow drag against your walls that compelled you to wrap your legs around his hips and hold him deep inside you.

“Is that how you want it?” he interrogated. “Deep?” You nodded and he chuckled a little. “I can do that.”

He stopped moving only for a moment to grab your legs and push them up, such that when he thrusted again, the tip of his cock hit the furthest places inside you and you choked on your own moan. "Fuck!" you croaked, eyes shooting open and hands reaching out to clutch his shoulders.

"How deep am I inside you?" he asked coyly, well aware of the answer already.

"So deep,” you slurred, barely able to form words with a heavy tongue and empty lungs, “all the way…"

"Good." He leaned down and growled against your ear. "I hope I knock you up tonight."

His words shocked you, in the best possible way. You surprised even yourself with the way your body reacted, and your hands were almost moving of their own accord as they grabbed his face and pulled him into a deep, needy kiss.

“Neil,” you mumbled as you broke it just enough to look up at him, “put a baby in me.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, thrusting into you faster than ever, “I will, darling…”

He was unstoppably filthy after that, relentlessly pounding into you, claiming your entire body as he whispered unimaginably dirty things in your ear.

"I know you want it so badly, darling, I know you need to be filled with my seed… can't wait to see you all round and glowing with my baby in you."

You didn't understand his emphasis on the word "my,” as if it could ever be anyone else's! But you didn't really notice that very much, too busy crying out at the feeling of him stretching you out and reaching the deepest places inside of you. “Neil, please— I’m so close, want you to come with me,” you whimpered.

“Yeah? Wanna squeeze my cock with this pretty little cunt while I fill you up, darling?”

“Please,” you sobbed, and you were sure you’d never needed him this bad; never needed anything this bad.

Deep little growls coming from between his teeth signified that he was close, and you felt your body tightening around him as you reached your peak one more time, much more intense than before and so much louder than you meant for it to be. He finally spilled inside of you, painting your walls with his spend as you whimpered and began to descend from your high. His body relaxed atop yours, though his arms wrapped around you to hold you close. After a few moments of that, he fell onto his back and you laid your head on his chest, humming happily at the feeling of his warmth seeping out of you. You were confident you’d be sore all over tomorrow, but you couldn’t feel it now as the afterglow served as a painkiller, keeping you numb and happy while you cuddled into him.

His arm around your shoulders pulled you closer so he could kiss your forehead. You looked up at him, admiring the way he looked horribly disheveled and yet entirely perfect; he looked back at you, smiling softly.

"Can't believe you're finally mine," he sighed wistfully, "forever."

#tenet fanfic #neil tenet x reader #dark!neil tenet x reader #neil tenet dark fic #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson dark fic

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algumaideia · 3 years

Text

An analysis of Octavian

This post was actually going to be an explanation of why I think Octavian is an antagonist, but not a villain. But it ended up being an analysis of his character.

SPOILERS

And as always feel free to disagree with me, just be respectful.

Sorry, because it wasn’t well-written, I’m incapable of writing good texts.

Backstory

I think it is important to say that since we don’t have any information about his backstory most of the thing said in this part of the review are what I think is his backstory. It is a mix of the facts stated in the books, the way Octavian acts and my interpretations. Besides the things I’ll make clear that were said in the books, the rest is not canon. And you don’t need to agree with me that this was his backstory.

His family is one of the richest of New Rome- In the books he also seems to act without fearing the consequences while taking the privilege/money of his family as garented. Octavian acts like someone that is seeking attention. It is so weird how he just do whatever he wants without fearing consequences when his family is right there in New Rome. For that to happen I think or his family neglects him or they are those kind of people who think the children can do no wrong and are all my baby didn’t do that. But I think that if they were the latter, they would be more present in Octavian’s life, but they are never there.

He is an augere and feels very proud about it. I don’t think there is too much to add about it besides that I think he likes to be an augere because it makes him important and necessary.

No one likes him and this isn’t something new. In Son of Neptune, Hazel says half of the camp hates Octavian and most of his friends are bought. So, Octavian is a lonely child. And he is aware of this. He is a bad person, people dislike him for a reason. But it seems people have been disliking him for some years and he is a child. According to his wiki he was 10 years old when he came to Camp Jupiter for the first time, and he spent his tweens and teens years in a place where people did not like him. I don’t think this was a good place to grow up.

He is really smart and manipulative. I think that those traits are a little inconsistent. Because in the beginning of the SoN Percy says how Octavian is really good at manipulating people with words, but then in the ending of the book and in MoA everyone is shutting Octavian up. Isn’t he this kind of master of words, how he isn’t answering people back?

We also know he’s been at camp jupiter for quite sometime. I’ll talk about it in another part of the post.

He is anemic and mentally ill. I’ll talk about those things in the Camp Jupiter, Treatment and Ableism parts.

Other thing that I would like to say is that this post is not an attempt to ignore the bad things Octavian did and pretend he is not a bad person. It is just me trying to understand his better and show why in my opinion the fandom hasn’t treated him fairly.

Camp Jupiter

Camp Jupiter sucks and it does for a lot of reasons. Some of them being the fact they have a city full of adults and most of them were demigods trained in the camp, which means they have trained adults but instead tweens and teens are the ones who fights. Hazel said that if Percy dishonored the legion they both would be executed. Hazel also says that sometimes people die in the war games. There is also the fact that people are dying all the time in missions/wars. The Camp Jupiter also expects perfect behavior for its demigods, to them all know the rules and to do not commit mistakes and I don’t have adhd but this doesn’t seem to be a good place to people that has the disorder. There is too much preassure to do not do any wrong, apperently no emotional support and the punishments seems to be crazy. It’s not a healthy place to a chldren grow up.

Other point is how they value physical strenght, hand to hand combats and offensive approache more than a lot of things. Frank said how he wasn’t treated well because he was an archer, and this was seem as cowardice. Octavian is anemic, he doesn’t have physical strenght or energy to be able to fight. The only way to be respected in Jupiter's camp is to be a good fighter, and he cannot be that because of his illness. As I said Octavian is someone that is often seeking attention and validation by his peers, and I think that this is why being an augere is something so important to him. He cannot make himself important in the traditional way and by being an augere he is necessary to the camp. People cannot just dismiss him. He buys friends, he manipulates people, he becomes a centurion, he is always dominating the senate. He makes himself impossible to be neglected.

Yes, Octavian is power-hungry. Yes, he is bad. But a lot of things he did during Heroes of Olympus was just Roman things (he was also mentally ill and his mental health was getting worse in each book). When Hazel says that Octavian will kill Percy if the greeks atack New Rome, but in the next sentence she says that Romans take oaths very seriously. However it is all written like it is Octavian being a horrible person. But it is not. The Romans are very harsh with their punishments, they seem to be violent, physical. When Octavian says the Romans should fight the greeks, he is just acting like a Roman, like someone who was raised in a enviroment that encouraged violence responses.

Treatment

Octavian wasn’t treated nicely by the narrative and other characters. I mean, this guy was the centurion of the first cohort and an augere. But no one seem to respect him. No one enters the legion without him saying yes (I know it is acording to what he sees) but he is treated like he isn’t important. He is the one that is responsable of saying what the gods wants, but no one seems to have problems mocking him. I mean fi he decides to give you a wrong information about what a god want you are dead.

Hazel said how “obsessed” with the sibylline books Octavian and it was framed as him being irrational and dumb. But in the end he was right, if the legion listened to him Ella would have been save way sooner. But no, it is just Octavian being “obsessed”.

Percy acts like Octavian doesn’t have any prophecy powers, but he saw the lighting in the Jupiter Temple. Then when Octavian is mad because there are three preators he acts like he is overreacting, and Jason and Reyna do nothing. And this is weird because it was made very clear that rules are very important to Camp Jupiter.

When he decides to attack Camp Jupiter he is always villified and not seem as a mentally ill boy that has been getting worse doing the Roman thing.

He is always dismissed, mocked, villified, ignored.

And the fact Luke was treated with sympathy, but Octavian not. Luke, who tried to kill Percy, a childre, a lot of times. Luke, who used Annabeth feelings and emotional attachment to manipulate her. Luke, who was 19-22 years old and groomed Silena, who was 14-18 years old. Luke, who poisoned Talia’s tree. Luke, who had no regards for Grover, the satyr that saved him. Luke was treated with sympathy. But not Octavian. Not the mentally ill child who was losing the touch with reality during the series. Not the guy who was just doing what he was raised to do.

I mean, I don’t even like Octavian and I cannot stand it.

Gwen

Guys, Octavian did a lot of bad things but killing Gwen wasn’t one of those thing. It is so no sense for a lot of reasons.

As we talked before he is anemic and he is also smart. This intelligent man, that is full aware of his physical limits, thought it would be a good idea to get in the midle of a chaotic fight? I don’t think so.

Some pages before that Percy hit Octavian and he fell like a straw man (according to the text, the first time I read it I thought he fainted).

Octavian always makes things because of a purpose, he isn’t just being mean because. He does bad things because his actions will give him something. Killing Gwen wouldn’t help him with anything.

Frank for some reason decided to look to Octavian during that mess and that doesn’t make any sense. He is in the camp for a month at this time the guy should’ve already known that Octavian doesn’t battle, he only commands. He saw Percy fighting for a couple of seconds during the war game and was already able to say how he fought.

Octavian was without his knive, but just minutes before he fainted, he could have lost it when he fell.

Frank said that Octavian seemed interested and not worried. But this is not enough to blame the guy, this is not enough to assume anything execpt that maybe Octavian has low empath.

Greeks

Octavian was a roman. To the romans the greeks didn’t exist anymore, and they were the enemy.

So, a random greek shows up, spends some days at the camp, becomes preator, and two of your most important gods appear and give a lot of attention to this greek. This is really suspicious. This greek also says that the romans should work with the greeks so they can defeat Gaea. And why you should trust this dude? He doesn’t show respect for the Roman culture. Then this huge war ship appears and this suspect greek guy says that they all come peace and the romans should not attack. Obviously you don’t believe it, and what happens they attack! As the good roman you are, your answer is to attack the greeks back.

The romans answers things with violence. This is why Reyna asked if Annabeth was a roman after the judo flip. This is why Hazel said she and Percy would be executed if he did a mistake during his period of probatio. Octavian was being roman. He was trying to protect and revenge his Camp against a long time enemy.

Not saying everything he did about it was logical, but this is because of his upbringing and his mental health.

Goals

I think it is really interisting the fact that Octavian main goal was to be a hero, not more powerful. Apollo didin’t say Octavian would become preator, he said Octavian would save New Rome.

I mean, since Octavian wanted to be preator and then became the pontifex maximum, so the logical think it would be to him wants more power. But no he wants to be a hero. A hero is someone that is respected, admired, liked and even loved. All the thing Octavian isn't. Don't get me wrong, Octavian is a bad person, there is a reason people dislike him. But he is also a lonely child that is hated by most of the camp.

Ableism

Octavian is often described as crazy, mad, insane. In his first appearence Percy said Octavian had madness in the eyes, and this was the way of the narrative warning us he was one of the bad guys. He is obviusly mentally ill, his mental health is obviusly getting worse, but everyone ignores it. Everyone ignores it, execpt when they are describing how insane his laugh is, how crazy he looks, how intense his gaze is. Everyone ignores it, until they need to remind us he is one of the antagonists.

Ending

The ending was terrible.

Octavian was obiously having a psychotic break, he was stumbling, laughing “in an insane” way, and he didn’t realize his jewelry was in fire. And then what happens? Michael Kahale, the person he most trusted, his problaby only friends appeared, saw the situation and did nothing.

Octavian didn’t kill himself. He didn’t know his clothes were tied in the onager. It wasn’t a sacrifice. It was an aciddent.

Nico stopped Will Solace who was trying to warn it because some “deaths are inevitable”. Nico, also a mentally ill character saw Octavian in the vulnerable state he was and did nothing to help him. And when Nico was seeing Octavian lunch himself to the sky he thought that this was a relief. No one was sad, no one thought this was a tragedy, no one cared. Octavian was dead and that was a relief.

The guy was so desperate to be the hero and no one even cared about his death. It is horrible.

Another sorry for the weird tense of the text.

If you want to read this is my post about Octavian and Azula and how their mental illness were treated differently.

Best regards,

Me.

Ps. We need to start talking how the way Bryce was written was ableist.

#pjo #hoo #rick riordan critical #rr crit #rick riordan ableism #octavian #pjo octavian #hoo octavian #octavian ableism #octavian analysis

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

difficult | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: fluff, mini angst, super cute, mutual pining

words: 3, 812

summary: you're difficult and yoongi just wants you

“I can’t believe it,” Jimin whistles. Taehyung mirrors his sentiment but with a look of disbelief.

“Me neither. But here we are.” Taehyung states matter-of-factly.

You were silent, not because you had nothing to say—but because you couldn’t believe it either. How did you allow yourself to fall into this trap? A trap you’ve spent your entire life training to avoid. And you would consider yourself someone that was dedicated to their craft and you truly were. But you were still susceptible to guilty pleasures and you just found your match.

“Why is no one stopping me? Why isn’t anyone telling me to get a grip of myself?” You cry.

Jimin looks at you sympathetically even if he knows that you hated being pitied. Taehyung at least avoids your gaze but the tell-tale signs of a frown appear on his face when you see the furrow of his brows.

“You know … you’re allowed to feel this way, right?” Jimin says carefully and you were more annoyed with the fact that he was walking on eggshells with you when you’ve long passed that stage of prudent navigation around each other. And you knew exactly why he sounded the way he did.

“I’m not. I’m supposed to be an impenetrable fortress that cannot be shaken by anything let alone anyone. I am an unyielding, resolute woman that refuses to be tied down by society’s narratives.” You say all at once.

Jimin and Taehyung blink at you. They expected this—but it still surprised them that you vocalised their thoughts.

Jimin clears his throat.

“Let me rephrase that,” He says sternly, “You’re allowed to feel, period.”

You shake your head because you’ve fallen too far—too hard. And you needed to get a grip of yourself because you didn’t work hard perfecting the flawless expression of bitchiness and temptation to be taken seriously amongst a Board of Directors filled with men. People like you couldn’t afford to feel.

Especially when the world never feels for you. For women.

“Do you hear yourself Jimin?” You exasperate as you throw your hands in the air in frustration.

“____—” Taehyung attempts to reason with you, but as always, you never let him get a word in. He knows you don’t mean any malice because you’ve built your walls so high that you think everyone is out to get you—but he just cares about you. He wishes you’d let him.

“No. You don’t understand guys. People like me? We—I—can’t afford to slack off. Not now and not anytime soon. I hear you guys and I wish I could understand where you’re coming from but frankly, I won’t ever be able to. You have the liberty of picking your battles because this world is yours. I had to fight my battles on my own to claim this world as my own and I’m nowhere near deserving of that role yet. I can’t feel.”

Their eyes soften at you and you avoid their gazes. You didn’t want their pity, and you didn’t want to sit in a tight office with their stares so heavy on your own.

“You deserve to be happy,” Taehyung says sadly.

You don’t respond, but you hear the chairs in front of your desk move against the hardwood floor. Then, you hear the opening and closing of your doors and you’re finally alone. Like how you do best.

You don’t allow another thought as insignificant as the one that threatens to overtake you to pass through your mind as you quickly tend to your pending projects.

The name of a certain man lingers very vaguely, though.

It annoys yet terrifies you how much you needed to consciously play your cards just right when you step into another board meeting. You thrived when you spoke at the podium, and no man—even the most bigoted—could deny that you were a born leader. But that didn’t mean that they liked that fact. In fact, most of them despised the idea that a woman as young as you was even allowed in the same room as they were. You wished you could yell at them, cry and shout until they understood that you were deserving.

You couldn’t, for very obvious reasons. But until you could—you needed to be smart.

“Mr Lee, with all due respect—liquifying the compartment company will not bring us the projected profit that you’ve pitched in the previous meeting.”

You’re level-headed and cool when you attempt to reason with the older and very stubborn man. He was old, and stubborn, which was never good news for you.

Mr Lee, the Chairman’s younger brother, simply scoffs at you, and you try your best not to let your eye twitch.

“What? Do you have a bachelor’s degree in business?” He sneers.

You blink.

“I have a double Masters in Business Administration and Finance.”

Mr Lee stiffens, and you briefly see Seokjin, the fellow nephew of Mr Kim, holding back his snorts at your declaration.

“I am qualified to be making this statement, and if you don’t believe in just words—which you really shouldn’t—here are the documents and projections from my end.” You distribute the analysis you took upon yourself to complete over the weekend and worked overtime to finish it as you handed it around the table.

Mr Kim, the Chairman, who was a far better man than everyone else in the Board of Directors, offers you an impressed smile as he flips through your booklet while you stand straight with your shoulders rolled back. A stance you often took to show that you knew your shit.

“This is very … meticulous. Great work as always, ___.” Mr Kim compliments you.

You don’t let it show on your face but you’re pleased with the way Mr Lee grumbles under his breath like a petulant child.

“Very well. We’ll keep the compartment company as it is,” Mr Kim declares and everyone else in the room shuffles to collect their belongings as the meeting comes to an end, “Meeting adjourned.”

“You’re absolutely badass,” Jin whistles at you as you walk side-by-side, your folders snug against your chest.

You hide your smile but acknowledge it regardless.

“And you were … there. As usual.”

He snorts and you know he gets where you’re coming from. Jin was simply present at the meeting but he wasn’t actually present. His heart had no place in the business world but instead in a world filled with fine dining and diverse cuisines as he worked up a storm in the kitchen. But as every father—who is the Chairman of a country’s largest exporter—he had pushed that dream onto Jin from a young age.

But Jin was Jin, and you knew Mr Kim simply kept him here for the sake of it; fully aware of his son’s aspirations and determination of becoming a chef.

“You should just take my position. You’re so good at business talk—I didn’t understand half the shit you were saying the entire time.” He says.

You shrug.

“I mean, that’s the goal. But let’s just see for now,” You hum as you reach your office, and you still when you see the person waiting for you inside.

Jin takes a peek over your shoulder and spots the same person who has you looking so tense. He whistles at you as he stuffs his right hand in his pocket while offering you a consoling pat on your shoulder with his left before he stalks off.

“Good luck!” He calls out, and you internally groan at the oncoming interaction.

You brace yourself and put on a brave face as you step into your office, doors clicking, signalling your guest to turn around at the insinuation of your presence.

“Mr Min, what can I help you with?” You don’t look at him when you place your belongings on your table and you nearly miss his scoff with the way you attempt to busy yourself with any mindless activity that you can find on your desk.

“Mr Min? Not Yoongi anymore?”

You ignore his bitter tone and look at him with a reserved stare, raising an eyebrow as if to question his statement.

“Are we not co-workers?” You reply coolly and he scoffs much louder for you to hear.

“Co-workers … yeah,” He shrugs, leaning forward, “Do you usually kiss your co-workers?”

You are still at the sudden declaration and nearly drop the pen that was in your grip. He’s suddenly inches closer to you despite the relative distance of your desk between the both of you. You try to ignore the heat of his body, but it’s entirely too suffocating for you to pretend like he isn’t there.

“Don’t give me that nonsense,” You wave him off and you steady your voice because you weren’t ready for him to see you break. You allowed yourself too much space to be vulnerable and you needed to stop.

He sits back into the chair and folds his arms across his chest with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, this is not what we’re going to do.” He says, suddenly much firmer than he was a moment ago.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, clearly confused.

“None of this detached, emotionless attitude with me. I see through this facade and it’s not cute. You’re going to speak to me like an adult and address the very obvious feelings you have for me, and likewise. You’re not allowed to deflect like you always do because I expect you to be honest with me because you’re clearly not being honest to yourself.”

You blink up at him and your heart starts beating more rapidly within your chest as it betrays your stoic appearance.

Maybe that was why you fell for Yoongi in the first place. He didn’t tolerate you. Specifically, the shit that you pull on him. You were well aware you were a stubborn, hard-headed bitch that could be emotionally reserved 99% of the time when you interacted with others. And sometimes your bitchiness was uncalled for, but most people were too terrified to say anything about it to your face.

Yoongi?

He had no problems letting you know what he expected from you and how he thought of you from the beginning. It should’ve irked you. Based on your strict line of principles that you upheld—a man projecting his own thoughts of you that he had in his head, directly to you, should’ve been dehumanising, disrespectful even. But you never got that from Yoongi. He was brutally honest. And you appreciate honesty.

But sometimes it made you squirm.

“I … sorry, what? Are you insane? I don’t have feelings for you.” You narrow your eyes at him and hope you sound convincing enough.

But you knew Yoongi well enough to know that he saw through your blatant lie.

“I said: don’t deflect. You’re deflecting.” He scolds.

“You’re being unnecessarily distasteful right now,” You roll your eyes.

“Am I? Or am I just telling you the truth that you’ve been trying to deny for the past week that you’ve been cowardly avoiding me?” He’s calm when he makes the accusation. And it wasn’t even an accusation because it was the plain truth.

You burn, both in anger and in humiliation.

“What do you know about me Yoongi? Aren’t I just the company’s hot-headed bitch?” You snap, remembering the first words you heard from Yoongi.

“You are a hot-headed bitch, and I know you’re scared of admitting that you have feelings for me because you think feeling makes you weak.”

You ignore the fact that he admitted that you were a bitch, but Yoongi wasn’t the type to lie, nor was he the type to kiss ass. And you hated that he was still brutally honest, even when speaking about a topic so … intimate.

“Look, I don’t know where you’re getting this information from but you need to leave.” You stand up to walk towards the door so you could open it for him but he grabs your wrist before you make it there.

He turns you around to look at him. Properly look at him, that is. You’ve been avoiding direct eye contact with him because as good of a front you’ve worked on to put in front of him, you were human. And as a human, you were bound to have a weakness.

“You don’t get to walk away from me—this conversation—because you hate confrontation,” He frowns at you and you turn away to avoid his heavy gaze.

“Yoongi, can we not do this?” You sigh.

He chuckles dryly, using his right hand to nudge your face to look at him. It should’ve been demeaning, but you felt nothing like you were disrespected. You hated to admit it but you liked it. You liked it a lot more than you’d admit to anyone.

“No. We’re doing this. You’re going to address your feelings for me and actually work for what you want—and that’s clearly this,” He gestures between the two of you and you glare up at him.

“I told you! I don’t have any feelings for you.” You snarl at him, teeth bared like an animal but he just laughs at you like you were pathetic. You hated how small you felt in his presence but yet you were still whole.

“You don’t kiss a person you don’t have feelings for—you don’t hold someone you don’t have feelings for like they’re your safe space. You don’t have feelings for me? That’s funny because you did all of those things and you’ve never once complained when I reciprocated.”

You fumble with your words as the tip of your ears burn a bright red, which Yoongi easily catches.

“You don’t turn into a tomato if I was lying to you. You’re not like that, right? You’re self-assured. Ms-I’m-An-Impenetrable-Fortress,” He mocks.

“S-Stop acting as if you know me, Yoongi. You don’t and you never will.” You struggle against his grip on your wrist but he simply tugs you closer until your faces are inches apart.

“I don’t?” He scoffs, “Then tell me, why do I know that you confide Jimin and Taehyung for advice but never take it anyway because you’re too damn stubborn?”

You were about to retort but he’s quicker with his response.

“Then tell me, why do I know that you walk with your head held high into meetings but exit with your tail tucked between your legs because you’re afraid of sounding too dumb, too incompetent?”

You freeze.

“Then tell me, why do I know that you pull away from people not because you’re repulsed by them but because you’re afraid of forming actual bonds in the fear of being abandoned?”

You internally curse when you fear your eyes burning, and the lump in your throat becoming too much to bear.

“Then tell me, ___, why do I know you feel the same way about me but you’re too scared of looking dependent to do anything about it?” He whispers the last part when he pulls you tight against his chest.

You don’t fight him anymore, and you relax into the firm expanse of his chest and it terrifies you that it feels so much like home. A warm space you find comfort in.

You don’t even realise the first tear escapes your eyes until you feel Yoongi’s dress shirt turn slightly damp under the skin of your cheek. You’re mortified when you realise you’re crying and you attempt to pull away but his hands find their way around your waist to hold you tight.

“Don’t,” He whispers, “Don’t pull away from me.”

“Yoongi … I-I can’t,” You stutter, voice shaky.

He wipes a thumb on your cheek to wipe away the continuous stream of tears that you don’t bother hiding from him anymore.

“I worked my ass off to be taken seriously here and—and … if I get a boyfriend they’re going to think that I’m reliant, I’m weak, dependent on a man.” You ramble, but he just listens to your nonsensical statement as he rubs soothing circles on your head.

“I want you to rely on me, to depend on me. Stop thinking that you need to fight your battles alone. I’m here—I’ll be here. I’ve always been here but you need to let me be there for you.” He says softly.

You peer up at him with swollen eyes and he thinks you look beautiful. You always were beautiful. When you were commanding a meeting; when you were focused when you were angry; when you were laughing, and when you were sad. He was in for all of it.

“But ... the Board of Directors—”

He shushes you with a light kiss to the corner of your lip and you feel your stale heart flutter.

“I’m not here to be your saviour. I’m here to be your equal. I want to help you as much as you’ll help me. And believe me when I say you’ve helped me. The Board of Directors? Relationship or no relationship, they’ll be the same bigots that unfortunately dictate the policies in this company. The only person that has the ability to change anything in this situation is you ___.”

You feel your resolve breaking but you should’ve known that you’ve never had any resolve when it came to Yoongi. You were always weak around him. And maybe you needed to start accepting the fact that you were allowed to feel weak, to feel dependent on someone.

“What if you leave me.” You whine.

He snorts before rubbing a thumb between your furrowed brows.

“Then I leave. But we don’t know what’s going to happen if we don’t try,” He says and you realise how close he’s gotten to you to the point you feel his breath on your lips.

“That’s not comforting to hear the slightest,” You complain.

“And nothing about a relationship is easy. But I’m willing to be with you. I’ve always been ready—it’s you that needs to make the decision, ___.”

You finally lock eyes with him and you see nothing but sincerity. Yoongi could be crass, and often mistaken as a dick. But he was just honourable. He wouldn’t lie to anyone or sugarcoat the difficult truth. In fact, he never made you feel inferior to him even when he was straightforward. He never treated you differently because you were terrifying—but he treated you how he would with anyone else. And that was comforting. While everyone else walked on eggshells with you, he was fearless with his declarations.

Even now.

“I like you. I have no qualms in admitting it. And I’ll say it over and over again until you believe me,”

You don’t reply but kiss him. And there are no explosive fireworks, and time still flows—but it feels familiar. It feels like a territory that you’ve known all along, a little rough around the edges with the time spent away, but a place you can allude to comfort.

He responds by licking into the seam of your mouth as you allow his tongue to lick behind your teeth, a small whine caught in the back of your throat as you card your fingers through his hair. The hands-on your waist presses you tighter, flush against his body.

He pulls away first, resting his forehead on your own.

“I need to hear you say it. None of this tip-toeing anymore.”

You offer him a small smile.

“I-I …”

He watches you stutter with a hooded gaze but nothing about his stare makes you feel pressured. It was more comforting than anything, and the way he still held onto you like you mattered—but weren’t fragile—allowed you some semblance of peace in retaining your identity. This arbitrary idea of what you thought you were and how people perceived you. It was difficult to unlearn an idea that felt very personal to you after years of mastering its art.

You’re still unsure of how to react but you’re so sure of how you feel.

“I like you. I-I want to try.” You wail.

He’s alarmed by the sudden change in tone from your end and at the way you tug at the collars of his shirt. Not aggressively, but a little desperate. Not in the way that’d make him scrunch his nose in distaste but in a way that told him that this was you being vulnerable. Being open.

He wipes at your cheeks with dried tears and looks at you so honestly that it scares you. But in a way, you were fearless because you were terrified of everything. Mostly of disappointing others who held you to such a high standard, but it was a valid fear regardless.

“I’m not some fragile woman that you need to fix and I want you to understand that,” You pull yourself together and tell him sternly. He listens because Yoongi has never been presumptuous.

“I’m my own person and I won’t change the way I act to be with you—and if you’re looking for a cute … dainty, soft girlfriend then…” You whisper, “That’s not me. I’m tough. I’m a bitch and I’m stubborn. Our arguments are going to suck because I have a response for literally everything so—!”

He shushes your rambling with a finger to your lips and a raised eyebrow. You pout at him under his finger and he finds you adorable. He decides to not say anything to preserve his head—but soon. He’ll tell you soon.

“Are you done?”

You huff under his finger but he looks at you fondly.

“I’m not one for normality. I don’t care about what you think I’m into because I know that I’m into you. I’m in this, ___. Stop thinking that I deserve some idealistic image of a woman that you have in your head. I want you, and I thought me coming here to speak to you about your feelings was a clear testament to that.”

You try to hide your blush but you fail.

“And stop being so conscious of how you act around me. Be tough. Be independent. But don’t be afraid to be cute and vulnerable too, okay? I like you in all ways that you decide to present yourself in. Just … trust me. Trust this.”

“Okay.” You nod.

He grins at you.

“Does that mean I can hold your hand on the way to work?” He teases.

You avoid his eyes and look to the side, but the slight curve of your lip gives your answer to that question away.

“I guess …” You mutter.

He hugs you closer and squeezes you until your feet leave the ground. He tackles you with kisses all over your face and you can’t help but giggle. You feel happy. You feel secure.

“Cutie.”

You deliver a smack to his chest but he just laughs.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi x reader

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thegeneralguy · 3 years

Text

A good role model

Hello! Thanks to @amalianetwork for helping me out with this story. Its a bit shorter than what I usually post on here, but it struck some heart strings inside of me. I hope you enjoy it.

Twitter | Blog

“Come on Matt! We’re going to be late for the festival!”

The excited shrieks came from a young child not older than ten years of age. His wavy blonde hair was encased in a blue baseball cap, and he was wearing an old button shirt. He was grabbing the hand from an older young man, pulling him forward with haste. Both boys looked very alike, age being the most differentiating factor between them.

“Ease up Cole, your number starts at seven. There’s plenty of time.”

“Yes, but I want to rehearse one time before the show. Mrs. Davis said all kids in our class had to meet an hour before to practice our song”

Matt advanced reluctantly, feeling uneasy in his attempt at formal attire. He adjusted his badly-knotted tie and tried his best in accommodating his oversized shirt. But he knew it was a necessary sacrifice, because this was supposed to be Cole’s “big night”. He would do anything for his little brother, even if it meant dressing as a buffon. The boys were rushing through the parking lot of the local theatre, amongst a sea of other families heading to the entrance. They entered the building and immediately headed backstage to deliver Cole to his class. Matt made sure his small bowtie was in place, but when he tried to take the cap from him, Cole swatted his hand away.

“Cole, you know you’ll get in trouble if you throw a fit over that cap again. All the kids in your class have to be dressed the same.”

Cole pouted and grabbed his head with both hands, securing it on his head.

“Please let me keep it. I’m scared to perform without it.”

“Okay you win. Just this one time though. You’re a big boy now, there are some rules you have to follow.”

“You’re the best Matt!”, said the little boy hugging his brother.

“Just remember to have lots of fun! I’ll be watching you from the front rows. And remember, once your act is over we gotta go.”

“That's not fair! Mrs. Davis is gonna take us all for pizza once the show is over.”

“I’m sorry C. You know Aunt Gertrude doesn’t like it when we go out late.”

“I don’t like Aunt Gertrude. She’s mean.”

Matt kept a straight face not to give a bad example, but he knew what his brother was talking about. Their aunt was a real menace sometimes. Especially when her rules were disobeyed.

“Don’t be like that buddy. Aunt Gertrude has been nice to us, so we have to obey the rules of her house. Besides, I’ll take you for pizza on the weekend. What do you say?”

“Yay! Thanks Matt. I’ll hurry up after the show, I promise. See you later!”

Cole then turned around and sprinted towards his group. Matt looked at his brother tenderly, remembering all they have gone through together. The blue cap was originally his, a gift from their father. They never had a lot to begin with, and after his parents were gone, the cap was one of the only mementos he had from them. He remembered hugging it terrified, as the police explained to him with gruesome detail for a twelve year old how his parents had been killed in a mugging. Cole had been only five at the time. Their aunt was their only living relative, so they were placed in her house. Cole couldn’t stop crying during the first night, so Matt gave him the blue cap and told him as long as he had it, his father would be there with him. Five years had passed, and the little boy still took the cap everywhere. Convincing Cole to take it off to wash it was a real hassle sometimes, but Matt managed. He was a good big brother after all.

Matt went to his seat and watched the recital in silence. Group after group they performed, excited families bursting in applause every time their kid went onstage. The young man was growing increasingly nervous, watching the minutes turn into an hour. The show was taking too long, which meant arriving at his aunt’s too late and having to deal with her wrath. He was lost in thought when suddenly Cole’s group was onstage. He cheered and applauded his little brother, who along with his classmates presented a potpourri of popular songs. He immediately recognized him due to the blue garment sticking out of the sea of white shirts. Once the number was done, he stood up from his seat and went to meet his brother backstage to take him to their aunt’s.

Their Aunt Gertrude was a solitary woman, preferring to live alone and far away from any other neighbor. The little house stood right at the edge of the woods, standing lonely amongst the dark trees. The car was parked on the driveway, so Matt knew immediately their aunt was home. He prepared mentally for the fit she was about to throw when she saw them coming in through the door. Once they made it inside, he sent Cole straight to his room and went into the living room, where his aunt was sitting on her usual chair watching TV.

“So, look who finally decided to show up. This isn’t a hotel you know.”, said the fat woman looking hatefully at the scrawny teenager.

“I know Aunt Gertrude. Cole had a school event he couldn’t miss, so we stayed out until late.”

The woman sneered at Matt, and then continued watching her show.

“You know misbehavior has consequences right? You were out past dinner time, so there won't be any dinner for you.”

Matt felt the rage coming up from his stomach. He disliked the woman a lot, but he knew she was the only reason the brothers were allowed to stay together. She knew that too, so she made sure to exploit that fact every time she could. He didn’t mind missing dinner, he was used to it. But Cole had to eat, or his stomach would hurt again and he wouldn't be able to sleep.

“I can miss out on dinner today and tomorrow if you want, but let Cole eat something. It was a tough day for him.”

“You should’ve thought that before breaking the rules. Rules are necessary, or else you will end up like your good for nothing dad. He got my sister killed, you know. Only a bad person does that.”

Matt tightened his fists so hard his nails dug into his skin causing some bleeding. His father was his aunt’s favorite subject, always belittling and berating him. But he was a good man, very hardworking. A real example for Matt. His only mistake was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Don’t you dare talk about him…”, he grumbled quietly. His aunt let out a cruel cackle, and glared at him angrily.

“Or what? You are just like him, you know. A useless dead weight under my roof. But not for long. You got one more night. After that, you’re turning into an adult, which means you gotta earn yourself a life.”

Matt had been so busy with his brother that he had completely forgotten about his birthday the day after. His aunt had been telling him she was going to kick him out that same day, but he always thought she said that only to intimidate him. Thinking about leaving Cole with that monster alone sent a chill down his spine.

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking you little asshole? As soon as you’re eighteen, you’re legally not my problem anymore. Besides, it’s good you learn how the world works. Not that your father ever taught you that. In fact, I think Cole was lucky to grow up without his bad example!”, said the woman laughing loudly. “Now, better get your shit ready. I’m calling farmer Joe tomorrow to see if he has some job for you. If you’re lucky he might even let you stay in the barn with the rest of his boys. Now, get out of my sight. My next show’s about to start.”

Matt just turned around and left completely speechless, hearing the loud music from the TV and his aunt laughing as he went upstairs to his room. Cole was already showered and wearing his pajamas, the blue cap still on his head. Matt sat down next to him on his bed, trying to keep his composure and not burst into tears.

“Listen Cole, I have to tell you something,'' he said, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words. “You know tomorrow is my birthday, right?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t forget. I even wrote it in my calendar to get you some chocolate.”, he said excitedly before realizing he just ruined the surprise. “Oh no, I just ruined your present.”

“No buddy, it's okay. You know I love chocolate.”, said Matt grabbing the little boy’s head. “But listen, tomorrow I’ll be eighteen. And that's a very special number. So special, that people invite you to participate in certain activities!”

“What do you mean?”, asked Cole with a puzzled look on his face.

“Well, farmer Joe has invited me to his special club on his land, so I’m very excited I can go now. There’s only one small problem, I have to go sleep there too so I can do everything the guys there do.”

Cole just stared at his brother, tears welling up behind his eyes.

“You’re gonna leave?”

“Don’t be sad buddy. This is a great opportunity for me! Besides, I’ll come to visit you every day, I promise.”

Cole threw himself at Matt, his little arms embracing him as strong as they could. Tears ran down his rosy cheeks, and he could barely articulate the words due to the knot in his throat.

“But I don’t want you to go! I don’t want to be alone in this house. I’m scared.”

“I know buddy, I know.”, said Matt hugging his little brother. “But listen, remember what I told you about that cap? As long as you have it, dad’s going to be here with you. And so will I.”

Both brothers embraced for hours, refusing to let each other go. Cole cried until he fell asleep, so Matt tucked him into bed and waited until it was late enough to go down and steal some food for the boy. His aunt went to bed just before midnight, so he had to wait until she was gone to go to the pantry. He was almost falling asleep when he heard the TV going off, and the heavy steps of his aunt going into her room. He hesitantly stepped out of their bedroom, and swiftly went down to get some food for Cole. His body was very light, so that helped him move silently on the wooden floor. He brought up some snacks, leaving them on Cole’s night table, completely missing the clock just striking midnight.

He went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Taking off the horrible oversized shirt he stared at himself in the mirror. He was practically just skin and bones, lacking the proper nutrition and exercise for a good development during puberty. His dirty blonde hair was pulled back on a bun, looking just a shade darker than his brother’s. His aunt was right, he was pathetic, scrawny and weak. Barely a fitting example for Cole. But he didn’t want his brother to grow up without him. It was already bad enough he had to grow up without a dad, only to have his big brother be taken away too. He wished that both of them could stay together. That he was enough for his little brother, so he could provide him with the life he deserved.

The lights in the bathroom flickered, and the window was suddenly opened by a strong gust of wind, startling Matt. He started to get lightheaded, grabbing the small sink to prevent himself from falling. “It’s probably hunger”, he said to himself. But the more seconds passed, the worse he felt. He started sweating cold, drops falling down his face and his pale body. He watched a shadow creep over his skin, thinking he was starting to faint from starvation. When he raised his hand to touch the darkness, rough bristles greeted his fingertips. He was growing hair, all over his body. He watched it get longer and thicker, a thick mat covering his chest, and crawling down his flat stomach painting a thick treasure trail on his skin. Tufts of hair poked out from under his arms, his sparse armpit hair getting far denser. The shadow then climbed up his neck, fully flourishing on his face to form a short beard. Matt felt its roughness with the palm of his hand, fully enthralled by the sensation.

He then felt his bones elongate, shooting him a few inches towards the roof and lengthening his limbs. He looked like that creature slender-something kids were so obsessed about. Once his skeleton finished its growth, the muscles followed suit. He felt incredible heat emanating from his body, as each muscle twitched and grew to enormous size. Size packed on his chest, fully forming two massive pillow-like pecs sticking out from his torso. His cleavage was so deep he could probably put his entire thumb in it, and probably crush it too if he squeezed hard. Muscle packed on his shoulders as well, growing like two bowling balls. It made him look monstrously wide, fully condemning him to a life of having to go through doors sideways. His arms surged with power and grew as well, fully surpassing the width his legs had before. Thick hairy pythons hung to each side of him, resting at an angle due to the thickness of his triceps. His back then rounded out like a shield and expanded into a hairy muscular landscape. The lats were so big they looked like the could fall off of him at any moment.

He heard his stomach grumble, as it blew forward sticking out just a few inches behind his chest. Thick abs could be seen on the curve of his belly. His ass blew his dress pants into oblivion, each cheek swelling like a Christmas turkey. The legs followed suit, thickening into titanic proportions, powerful enough to sustain such a heavy top. Even his feet grew a few sizes, fully completing his transformation. Matt just stared at his new body speechless, feeling control over each fiber. He flexed his big arms, and bounced his heavy chest. A deep chuckle left his throat, and he realized his voice grew much deeper as well. He was so entertained by his new figure, he missed the clumps of hair falling from his head. His hair thinned out a little bit, and shortened itself into a clean cut, contrasting with its previous unkempt image.

Matt looked like a new man. His kid used to tell him he looked the size of a barn, just like that Disney song he liked from the film with the talking furniture. He was very bad with names, but he knew what movies his son liked. Matt scratched his head, confused by the thought of having a child. He was only eighteen, barely old enough to have a kid. But a body like this couldn’t belong to a young kid. A body like this took years of dedication, of pain and sweat, of discipline. He looked like the perfect dad, strong enough to protect, and big enough to climb over like a jungle gym. Matt smiled looking at himself in the mirror. His features changed and rearranged themselves into those of a masculine man. His nose was bigger and his brow stuck further out. Even a cleft formed on his now square jaw. He looked tough, but also lovable.

The maelstrom of memories fully blew Matt’s mind away, turning him into a perfect dad. He felt his dick snake up under his belly, and his balls drop lower and heavier like a mature plume, virile enough to spread his seed wherever he wanted. The rush of testosterone triggered more changes in him. His muscles got denser, more lived in. Crow feet printed themselves next to his eyes, and his skin got rougher fully aging two full decades.

“I’m one sexy motherfucker.”, grunted Matt, flexing before the mirror. He dedicated years of hard work and discipline to his body, and it showed. He loved the tight feeling of a shirt about to burst due to his titanic arms, or how the buttons popped open on their own due to his heavy chest. But even his glorious physique wasn’t his most valuable treasure. That was his son.

Reality rearranged itself around Matt, as memories of Cole growing up with him changed into those of a father raising his son. He remembered how tiny he looked when he held him in his arms, or how scared he looked when Matt dropped him in kindergarten for the first time. He remembered the recitals, the little league games, the birthday parties, the nights with Cole on his bed due to a nightmare, the camping trips. Everything he did, and had, was for his son. He was happy to grow up next to him, so he could teach him about the same hard work and discipline he put into his own life. Hopefully, Cole would grow up to be a good man like his father. And with those genes, hopefully big and strong too.

When Matt came back to his senses, he was standing in a nicely furnished bathroom. He adjusted the glasses on his face, and checked himself one last time before going out. The short sleeved shirt looked perfectly fitted to his big body, his arms almost ripping the tight sleeves apart. He came out of the bathroom to find the luxurious interior of a suburban home. He wanted his kid to have all his necessities covered. The memory of the tiny house in the woods and the monster within fully erased from existence.

“Come on Cole, you don’t wanna miss out on a good pizza, do you?”, he shouted, his deep bass shaking the foundations of the house.

“I’m coming dad!”

Young Cole came rushing down the stairs. His blonde hair shined brighter, and his blue eyes sparkled with excitement. He took his coat and headed towards the front door, where his dad was waiting for him. Matt noticed the small blue cap on the little table next to the door.

“Aren’t you gonna wear your cap?”, he said, handing it to his son. Cole just smiled at his dad, and turned the cap away.

“I’m not scared anymore dad. I don’t need it.”

Matt just smiled and opened the door for Cole. The happy family then headed out into the sunshine to live the rest of their lives together. Nothing would be able to separate them.

#musclegrowth #daddy #hairy hunk #reality change

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

Text

Catch it (JJK x Reader)💜☁️👽

💚 Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

💚 Genre: Alien!AU, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, smut

💚 Warnings: Mentions of war, Reader is homeless, Jungkook is kind of clumsy, he hurts her accidentally sometimes, it’s never intentional though, slavery (in a sense), sweet boy Jungkook, no smut yet sorry haha PLEASE DON'T LEAVE I PROMISE ITS GOOD

💚 Summary: The world is literally ending. In a last effort to save earth, the race of Alcor demands humanities planet to be given into their care, as humans have been slowly killing the planet for way too long. But it’s humanity we’re talking about; they never give up without a fight. Even if they should.

Part of the Alien!Jungkook series!

Catch it | Hold it | Keep it | Save it | ???

The world had officially gone to shit.

Now, that was hard to overlook at this point; with almost every street in utter ruins, every corner looking like the worst slums at this point. Humanity had lost the war they had started; and the Alcorian people had by now begun to get rid of everything, building up things from scratch, and planting new trees and other plants.

They were healing the planet, as they called it.

You'd always despised the ways your own race handled things in the past, but this time you'd genuinely thought they would do the right thing. When you'd seen it on TV, the Alcorian government speech, you'd been surprised. You didn't really know what to think of aliens if you'd ever been asked in the past, Alcorian people already known to be existent by the time you'd been in school still. Now, years after finishing and living a life of a sole survivor on the streets, you'd never truly took time to think about what kind of appearance they may had. But now you knew- and it was nothing like you would've ever thought.

From what you've seen and heard they were tall- and had much more physical strength than a regular human. Their eyes had cat-like pupils designed for their naturally long nights on their homeplanet, giving them a distinctive look. The most common color seen had been green or a very dark brown- light brown, beige, or blue eyes were a rarity. The carried themselves with a certain kind of confidence that wasn't overbearing or too pushy. They simply knew they had the upper hand.

Humanity had been simply stupid.

Or narcisstic, as you liked to call it. The government had just been too scared to have power taken away like a toddler who'd throw a fit if it was time to let someone else play with a toy. But this wasn't kindergarden, and no one was playing around.

"Do you need help?" He'd asked, and you kept your hood down low, careful not to show your face and reveal anything to the Alcorian standing close to you. He had a nice voice, you'd noticed, but the fear still crept into your bones from the very real possibility of him taken you away, just like everyone else at this point. The war had been over for a little over a month by now, and Humans were not seen that much anymore. Everyone kept themselves hidden, stories about humans getting snatched and sometimes even eaten keeping you up at night like a child afraid of the dark. "Hey- are you okay?" He asked again. Considering your very small height in comparison to him, he probably mistook you for an alcorian child, and wanted to take you somewhere safe. They were known to be protective of their family after all.

At his touch, you slowly backed away, as he grew more and more suspicious of you. His hand reached for your hood, and that was the exact moment you decided to absolutely book it, and run off.

Sadly, he wasn't at all dumbfounded by that, and you should've listened to that weird drunk guy some weeks ago telling you that Alcorian's were hunters- they loved to chase and run. And oh well, with legs like that, he totally had all odds in his favor. You're only chance of escaping was the backside of an old grocery store, old vending machines serving as a hiding spot for you every time you needed one. Your small body always fit right between the two large machines, giving you a sense of security. Not now however, as he almost ran past where you'd squeezed yourself in, hood now completely down as your face- and most importantly eyes- were exposed to be seen.

“You’re- Human!” He exclaims with wide eyes, cat like pupils contracting in shock as you squeeze yourself tighter against the wall behind you, vending machines providing a bit of distance between you and the Alcorian. He’s too broad, too tall to fit where you’re hiding, but his arm is long enough to reach you as he grabs your jacket, pulling on the fabric as if to force you out.

“No, leave me!” You demand, eyes squeezing shut as tears begin to gather. This was it; your chase was over, and this dude would be having you for dinner. Or not- you didn’t really know exactly what Alcorians did with humans after they captured them. All you knew was that you were already small for human standards- these beings were taller and stronger by nature already.

“Sto-Stop being so complicated-!” He gritted our, still pulling on your clothing to get you out of your hiding spot, grabbing a bit more for good measure. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why did he have to be so fucking strong? The gravel and dirt underneath your shoes made scratching sounds as he slowly but surely pulled you out of your spot, not letting you go even for a second, even as you'd tried to pry his hand off, scratching his skin and making him hiss. "There we- go!" He exclaimed, having gotten you out of your spot, holding you tightly against his chest as he held your wrists tightly, leg thrown over yours to keep you from struggling. You felt your tears fall down your cheeks, as you began to pathetically breath heavier, faster, huffing as you kept your eyes closed tightly. As if you'd wake up.

"Please don't hurt me." You whispered over and over pathetically, a begging tune to your voice as he simply.. hushed you? And wait, was that hand on your head.. petting you?

"There there.." He consoled, as if you were a scared cat he had to calm down. "I'm not gonna do anything okay?" He hummed, letting you calm down for a moment, before he spoke again. "I'm gonna let go of your legs now, okay?" He said, and you nodded with hesitation as he did just as he told you, slowly moving his leg, and softening the grip on your wrists as well. You stayed completely stiff in his hold, not daring to move as he continued. "You're not claimed." He stated, and you nodded again, not trusting your voice as you agreed to his statement. It was rare by now to find an unclaimed human just like that. Something in his jacket buzzed, making him groan a bit, before he slowly stood up. "I wish I had more time to make you feel a bit more comfortable but-" He started, before he pulled out a black.. collar? You instantly struggled again. He may looked nice, but he was an alcorian at the end of the day- you never knew what he'd do. "No no no please-" He desperately tried, looking around in frenzy as he held your hands again. "Look- its nothing bad okay? I just want to help you!" He urged on, making you furrow your brows at him. "I promise you, I really do- I'll take care of you okay? Just- trust me for a bit. You can decide after we took off okay?" He said, and you became a bit less hesitant.

"Take off where?" You asked, and he genuinely smiled at the fact that you spoke to him, before explaining.

"I'm taking you home with me." He said, and you grew uneasy again. "No, don't- don't look at me like that!" He whined, before he squatted down as if to make him seem less dangerous to you. "They're collecting. I've seen you around these parts for a couple of days, and I'd like you to have a chance of deciding where you want to be." He said, and you looked at him in question. But- as soon as he would claim you, you were his property. "I'm just going to put this on you for the duration of the flight, okay? I promise you, you can decide afterwards where you want to go. But we need to move now!" He urged, and you nodded. There was nothing keeping you on this rotting earth anyways, even though you'd still hoped to stay. He beamed at you, smile reminding you of a bunny as he carefully placed the collar around your neck, before taking your hand.

You whined a bit at his tight grip as he looked back, eyes contracting again at the sight of your angrily red wrists. He looked apologetic as he seemed to think, before he simply decided to pick you up instead, carrying you to wherever he was going. "Sorry, for uh.. I didn't mean to." He said, and you simply didn't answer, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you watched the familiar grocery store grow smaller the further away you went.

This really was the end, wasn't it?

"Little one?" A voice spoke, slowly awakening you from a nap you didn't even notice slipping into. You were still leaning against the body of that Alcorian guy who'd picked you up, warm body making you feel sleepy. You moved a bit to detach yourself, as you looked at him, for the first time in proper lighting.

He looked young but mature at the same time, with wide, brightly colored eyes. His dark hair was long and straight, while his face was slightly soft in its proportions. Lips pink and arched into a soft smile seemed to fit perfectly, just like the tiny beauty mark in the middle just underneath his lower lip. He was handsome.

"You can sleep in a second." He promised in a low voice, careful not to disturb other passengers as he looked out the window. "I just thought you.. might not want to miss this." He said carefully, unknowing if this would be a painful goodbye for you.

It wasn't as bad as you thought it would be.

You held onto his jacket a bit tighter as the shuttle roared to life, slowly gaining speed on the runway as it departed, earth and the city growing smaller, until clouds blocked the way. Jungkook watched you with a studying gaze, glad that he'd managed to get you onto the shuttle before departing. He'd found you a few weeks earlier, roaming the streets like a lost animal, as he studied you. You were nice and friendly towards other humans, and agile in escaping Alcorian police forces who searched the streets occasionally. Sharing food was never something you denied when asked, and he'd also watched with a hurting heart as your small amounts of belongings got stolen one night, leaving you with nothing behind.

He just.. had to do something.

Humans were always depicted as selfish creatures only knowing their own benefit, and he had to agree to a certain point; a lot of them were like that. It was understandable to a degree, but it also wasn't, considering that his race had only tried to help. They'd never intended to start a war.

"Whats your name?" You asked in a quiet voice, careful not to speak too loud, as he smiled at you.

"Jungkook." He replied. "Jeon Jungkook." He spoke as he tilted his head. "And yours?" He asked.

"Y/N." You answered, and he nodded.

"You can keep it, if you want to." He said, and you simply leaned into him, watching as you broke orbit, earth now far away. For some reason, you didn't know if you wanted to. There was no reason to keep it, if you were leaving your old life behind like that. He seemed nice, and friendly- a bit rough, but that was to be expected. For some odd reason, you didn't want to decide whether or not to stay with him or not. He'd claimed you, end of story. You didn't even notice that you had started crying until his hand began to run over your head again, shifting a bit to have you sit a bit more comfortably.

Maybe he wasn't so bad.

"And there we are." He exclaimed, setting you down for the first time after the flight once you'd both entered his living space. It seemed- oddly like a regular apartment, with rounded windows and furniture that looked similar to what you knew. You stood still, until he gently tapped your back a bit. "You can go explore a bit- I have to make a call real quick." He said, and you nodded, taking off your shoes before walking inside further, watching as Jungkook left to go into a different room. Alcorians and Humans were similarly developed and shared a lot of technology. It was surprising however how much alike but different at the same time things were. You went closer to the largest window, watching as cars sped by- or, where those planes? It wasn't easy to tell.

"A friend of mine will stop by in a moment." He explained from behind you, as he kept a small distance from you, as if to preserve your personal space. "Just to give you a quick check up." He said, and you grew a bit uneasy, as he suddenly tried to retract his statement. "You know, nothing bad! Just, you know, to make sure you're okay and in good health-" He said, before you spoke again.

"What.. Why am I here?" You asked, and his eyes widened at the realization on what you hinted at. The tips of his pierced ears grew a bit pink at that, as he scratched the back of his head.

"Not for that- promise, I'm not like that!" He said, before he sat down on his couch. "Like I said, I wanted to, you know, get you somewhere safe." He explained. "I work with.. a few friends. We're trying to help humans find compatible people here, to live with." He said, and you nodded, rather sitting down on the carpeted floor a bit away from him. You noticed however, how he said 'people', instead of owners. It made you feel less like a pet.

"So.. you're a rescue organization for.. humans." You stated, and he nodded.

"If you want to call it that, yes." He answered, before someone knocked at the door. You sat up a bit straighter at that, growing uneasy at the visitor. "Please stay calm okay? I promise he's a good guy." He said, before he left to open the door, another tall young Alcorian walking through the door after greeting him. He wore glasses, and his hair was a light sandy brown color, while his eyes looked dark. He spotted you and you slowly began to scoot backwards. Nop, the bag in this guys hands was clearly containing medical equipment, and you were not here for it. "Y/N- No, come back!" He called after you as you ran off to the nearest room, closing the door in a hurry as you frantically searched for a place to hide, choosing the underside of his bed as the perfect place. You could fit right underneath.

"..-rmal for her to react like that. They're usually scared." An unfamiliar voice spoke through the door. "Did you tell her why I would be here?" He asked, and the other voice you clearly by now deciphered as Jungkooks answered with a whine.

"I did, and she was fine with that!" He explained, before the door opened, voices now clearer. "Well, she was a bit scared but I thought that was normal." He admitted, as the stranger sat down near the door, Jungkook next to him as if to block your only way out. Jungkook tried to reach for you only to be held back by the other guy, making him whine at him. "Namjoon, I have to get her out of there!" He said, and the other guy, Namjoon, still pulled him back to sit down.

"You can't force her out like that.!" He scolded, and it got quiet after that for a moment.

You carefully peeked out from underneath the bed, only to be met with Jungkooks smile, and the strangers gentle face. You slowly crawled out of your hiding spot, still staying a safe distance away as you watched both warily. "Hello Y/N. I'm Kim Namjoon, I'm a medical practician majorly focusing on human health." He said, and you scoffed, making Jungkook look at you surprised. You seemed absolutely different from just moments ago with him.

"So you're a vet for humans." You simply said, and Namjoon merely chuckled.

"Feisty. But yeah, you can call it that if you want to." He answered, as you still kept your scowl. "So can you cooperate with me now, or will I have to use force?" He asked, and you became even more hostile, Jungkook stepping in.

"Namjoon no- we won't be using anything like that" He tried, but Namjoon didn't seem to listen as he watched you with an amused expression on his face.

"I'm not a pet." You stated, and Namjoon grinned.

"You're certainly behaving like one." He answered, and you scoffed again.

"Then you won't be too shocked that I will bite you." You said, and the man shook his head.

"You wouldn't be the first one. Your kind loves to be difficult." He said, and your expression got even darker, as Jungkook desperately tried to find a way to diffuse the situation.

"Is that why you like to have us for dinner?" You asked, and both of them looked at you with questioning eyes. "Or is it more fun to fuck us first and then use us as slaves?" You bursted out, standing up as Namjoon looked genuinely caught off guard.

"Is that what they say on earth?" He asked, and you huffed out at that, moving into the furthest corner of the room, needing space. "It definetely does explain the hostility." He mumbled to himself, as Jungkook stood up, walking closer to you, but stopping when you yelled at him to.

"Okay, okay, I'll stay right here." He said, sitting down on the floor a few steps away from you as you hugged yourself in a pathetic way to comfort yourself. This was all getting too much. "If you don't want him here, I'm going to tell him to leave, okay? We don't have to do this now." He said, and you looked between him and Namjoon, uncertain. You may didn't have to face it now, but you had to eventually, right?

"We don't do any of that to humans, by the way." Namjoon suddenly chimed in, as you looked at him. "It's true that humans are being claimed, but they are not forced to do that. Most do it to ensure their safety, others do it out of romantic reasons, and some do it for the thrill, yes." He said. "But no, we don't keep them as slaves, no, we don't use them just for sex, and we certainly do not eat them." He said the last part with an almost humorous expression as you grew shy.

Well, this was awkward.

"Can you stop being difficult now, and let me do my job?" He asked with a more gentle tone now, before you nodded. You didn't walk over to him, however, still not trusting him as you decided to instead crawl onto Jungkooks lap, who happily took you into his arms as you looked over his shoulder at Namjoon, almost as if to say 'fuck you'. "You know, he won't always be there to-" He started, but Jungkook turned around as if offended.

"I will!" He said, holding you like a precious toy he'd just been gifted. "I mean- if she want's to." He mumbled, before Namjoon moved closer, shaking his head with a smile as he started to take your temperature first.

It somehow felt as if he was belittling you. But for some reason, that was okay in some way, considering his bright smile every time he did it. It felt a bit weird at first, but now, after a few days, you felt almost at home with him. You didn't think about earth much, not wanting to spoil your mood while you were with him for that matter.

You were growing a bit more independent day by day however.

Still with his collar wrapped around your neck, since you wouldn't be allowed to roam the streets without one without getting stares left and right, you stopped at a grocery store.

Before leaving today, you had your first fight with the Alcorian.

"I'm not trying to keep you obedient Y/N, I'm trying to protect you!" He explained, trying not to get too riled up as he knew this could scare you.

"But you do! I can't do anything by myself, you're always hovering over me!" You said, and he looked at you in disbelief at that.

You felt so bad, still.

Now more than ever, as you were walking through isle after isle, every word more complicated than the next it seemed. You'd learned some words by now, but most were still a challenge- making it impossible for you to work things out by yourself without probably making a fool of yourself.

You left the grocery store after realizing you couldn't even pay for stuff since he was the one with the money, and it made you feel frustrated. You squatted down near the entrance, calling Jungkook pathetically.

"Little one? Are you okay?" He asked, as if you didn't just fight minutes ago. You sniffled, and he became even more concerned. "Are you still at the grocery store? I'm coming, just wait-" He said, as you chuckled a bit.

"I'm fine Jungkookie I just.. I'm sorry." You explained, as you heard a door close on the other side of the line. "I was horrible to you." You said, but he cut you off.

"Let's talk when I'm there, okay?" He said, and you agreed, waiting for him patiently, trying to ignore the stares and looks you got, some Alcorian kids even pointing at you before getting scolded by their parents.

"I'm sorry." You said immediately as his figure approached you, already opening his arms to welcome you in his hug. "It was uncalled for, I was so mean, please don't hate me-" You said into his chest, as he chuckled.

"What're you doing little one?" He asked with a gentle smile as he looked down on you.

"Apologizing?" You said, and he smiled.

"I know, I'm familiar with that concept." He said, before continuing. "I mean, why? You were just stating your opinion on things." He said, and you felt even worse now.

"But I was mean, and rude to you! I shouldn't be so ungrateful, after all you've taken me in, you let me live with you, you provide me food and shelter, you keep me safe-" You began, as he chuckled again, ruffling your head.

"I do that because I want to. I'm responsible for you." He said, and you nodded.

"I'm sorry." You said again, and he continued smiling. "I managed to find some stuff like flour and Milk, but-" You started, as his eyes widened in wonder.

"You could read that?" He asked in disbelief, as you nodded.

"Yeah, but that's about it. I only picked up on a few words like caramel and stuff-" You explained, as he suddenly squeezed you into his arms, making you whince a bit at his strength. He immediately let go at the sound.

"Sorry sorry, it's just- whoah, my little human is so smart!" He said, genuinely excited over the mere fact that you could read a few words. "It took Taehyung Months to learn a couple of phrases, and here you are, already reading on your own!" He said, and you chuckled a bit at that. Taehyung was a human claimed by Namjoon and his partner Seokjin, who also had a second human by the name of Jimin. You'd met them for a bit prior, but hadn't had a true conversation with them yet. "Lets go then." He said, taking your hand into his as he walked into the store again with you.

Jungkook had slowly learned to hold your hand less tightly than he would usually do, his strength the reason for almost all of Namjoons visits to your now shared home. He didn't mean to hurt you, but it happened occasionally- and you always forgave him. He couldn't help it, and it was almost sweet to see him so upset over it straight after.

"Thats almond milk, right?" You asked, pointing at a carton with a label you thought said the words 'almond milk' on it. Jungkook beamed almost proudly.

"Yep!" He exclaimed, as he kept a hand on your back, a more comfortable gesture to show you he was by your side than holding hands. It was less likely for him to hurt you that way accidentally. "Let's get you something sweet too." He said with a smile, as you smiled back- for the first time, completely comfortable.

"Jungkook?" You asked hesitantly, as you walked up behind the couch, making him turn around.

"Hm?" He wondered, turning the TV volume down lower. "What is it little one?" He asked, as you suddenly placed a couple of papers down onto the small table in front of him. He took them wordlessly, before he suddenly jumped up, head thrown towards you as his eyes were wide open, catlike pupils staring at you as they glazed over. "You-how-" He stuttered, as you swayed on the spot a bit shyly.

"I talked to Namjoon about it the other day. He helped me get all the paperwork stuff done since I can't read much still.." You said, and Jungkook walked over to you, picking you up as he twirled you both around, making you giggle.

The bold letters on the front page clearly reading;

'Official documents for legal human ownership.'

You wanted to be his.

"Do alcorians kiss?" You randomly asked one day, laying on Jungkooks lap as he suddenly looked down towards you.

"We- uhm.. we do." He said, before swallowing the piece of sweets he was eating. "Why- why do you ask?" He wondered, and you simply shrugged.

"I kinda want to kiss you." You said.

And he almost choked.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #Alcoria AU

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