#drew this for stress relief because other work refused to get done

[bluespiritshonour]

"Not everything's changed" -Mai, Going Home Again

#there's so many things i wanna draw and draw well from going home again #drew this for stress relief because other work refused to get done #but ended up getting more stressed because it wouldn't turn out how i wanted #or maybe it's cause i was lazy and didn't want to put in the effort #why is life like this #maiko #atla mai #mai #zuko #going home again comic #going home again #atla comics #atla #avatar the last airbender #artists on tumblr #fanart #ink blot #this is also the last piece im posting without glaze or nightshade on it #the last one i swear #might redraw it sometime in the future #used carbon dating on this one

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“The lone City Council voice of concurrence with the Vancouver Unemployed Workers’ Organization program came from Angus MacInnis, who drew parallels with an earlier crisis. “When the state needed these men to protect the country, it took them,” he observed mournfully. “If their stomachs are good enough for the point of a bayonet or a piece of shrapnel, they are good enough to hold a square meal.” But MacInnis could not compete with the chorus of voices stressing financial restraint. George Miller lamented, “I cannot see that we shall get anywhere if the unemployed insist on taking an unreasonable attitude,” and Relief Officer Ireland questioned the motives of VUWO organizers, claiming that “this organization of unemployed is primarily political . . . and I do not think unemployment ought to be confused with politics.” Alderman Atherton agreed with both colleagues: the city had done all it could to relieve unemployment. Work relief was underway; roads were being repaired and extended, and hundreds who flocked to Vancouver for its mild winter climate found themselves shovelling snow on city streets after a particularly bad storm. Other projects in parks and sewers would soon begin. 

Several days later, the Sun published an interview with Alderman John Bennett, chair of the Finance Committee. He joined the chorus sounding the note of monetary restraint. “We all know the demands of the unemployed organization are unreasonable. It is financially impossible for the city to pay out $4.50 a day to all the unemployed.” Bennett did see a solution on the horizon, however: Vancouver should handle the jobless “easily and inexpensively” by housing them in the sheds maintained by the federal Department of Immigration.

The theme of financial restraint espoused by the council’s booster faction never addressed the VUWO’s challenge to the practices at the core of relief policy. While the VUWO asked that relief be paid in cash, Alderman Bennett proposed to take away whatever choices existed for propertyless unemployed men in matters of food and shelter by forcing them into shabbily built sheds whose original purpose was to house unfortunates awaiting deportation. The demands to abolish racial and residential restrictions, the calls for clothing and shoes for school children — all were ignored by the council in its emphasis on the bottom line of civic finance. And the final demand, for an immediate special meeting of the council, was also eventually refused after the VUWO delegates had completed their second tour of the subcommittees. In contrast to the VUWO’s expansive vision of relief as an automatic entitlement granted to everyone when unemployment struck, for most City Fathers, relief was ideally something of a gift furnished by the propertied taxpayer, to be given only to those truly deserving (based on residential and moral as well as racial and national criteria) and only for something such as work in return. Yet the claims of financial obstacles offered by Malkin, Miller, and others made up but one dimension of the local government’s response to the VUWO’s program: another would be provided by Chief Constable Bingham.

While Bingham initially reported that unemployed “processions have been orderly,” conducted with “no cause for Police interference,” he soon changed his assessment and argued for a view of unemployed demonstrations as part of a conspiracy against constituted authority. As noted, Communists had on occasion refused to carry the Union Jack at the front of their parades, “which in itself is illegal,” declared Bingham, a violation of a civic bylaw. He had overlooked this, however, because “the unusual circumstances justified latitude in my action whilst the processions were orderly.” The increased availability of work relief, Bingham wrote, satisfied the genuine jobless but “did not appear to suit some leaders of the Communist Party, who gathered around them a number of mal-contents discharged from City work.” He then used his presumed knowledge of plans of violent protest to ban “unauthorized” processions:

Information was forthcoming that if a clash came between the Police and the Unemployed, it was to be in the streets where advantage was to be taken of the melee to start a window-smashing campaign. In order to avoid this, I instructed the Unemployed that, whilst I was prepared to allow them to hold their meetings, an unauthorized procession could not be permitted.

For the VUWO, in contrast, Bingham’s ability to ban parades under city bylaws violated the time-honoured rights of assembly and free speech. Indeed, the increasing limitations that Bingham placed on unemployed parades served to underline Communist critiques of state coercion.

On 15 December, the Vancouver Daily Province reported the death of a common labourer in the east end under the headline “Man Starves to Death Here.” The next day, some five hundred people, the bulk of them jobless, “stormed” the Relief Office, but Ireland refused to deal with their complaints “en masse.” “I have been used to dealing with men,” he began to say, but was interrupted: “You’re dealing with men now — not slaves — hungry ones,” someone shouted. Ireland offered them work at the rate of a dollar per day but was met with the cry, “No Scab Jobs!”  Ninety minutes later, after being dispersed by police, another crowd assembled in front of City Hall, where Litterick and McEwan spoke about the VUWO’s demand for a hearing with City Council. At one point, a group attempted to gain entry into the council meeting in progress, only to meet with police resistance. An editorial in the Daily Province noted that the mood had been one of “good humour on both sides.” However, the VUWO's plan for subsequent daily demonstrations was “crazy”: “no good can come of it, either for the unemployed themselves or for anybody else.” The Sun editorial gently criticized police tactics, maintaining that “demonstrations and disorders are too often confused. The one is merely a safety valve, letting off steam. The other is a frequent result of keeping the safety valve shut, and the martyr complex flourishes under high pressure.” At the same time, the Sun made clear that Communist agitation, as opposed to genuine discontent, lay behind the demonstrations.

- Todd McCallum, Hobohemia and the Crucifixion Machine: Rival images of a new world in 1930s Vancouver. Edmonton: Athabaska Univesity Press, 2014. pp. 43-45.

#vancouver #canadian history #simple unemployed men #unemployed protest #unemployed organisation #communists #communist party of canada' #communism #relief recipient #relief department #unemployment relief #vancouver police #capitalism in canada #capitalism in crisis #great depression in canada #welfare officer #academic research #research quote #hobohemia and the crucifixion machine

[piecksz]

ignite | (m)

pairing: dabi x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw, mentions of abuse, smoking, drug use, car sex, rough, sex, shotgunning, penetrative sex, choking, degradation, explicit language

summary: after getting into a fight with your parents, you meet up with dabi for a smoke session as temporary distraction from your problems, but you find yourself becoming addicted to something else.

words: 2,626

a/n: this is just a cute/smutty idea i thought of while texting my friend, and i decided that sharing is caring so i had to turn it into a “one shot-esque” format. enjoy! 

Beyond the steep incline of the cliff lookout, the city’s soft lights smoldered against the deep blue of the evening sky. The bustling streets were full of constant motion and a million faces that you’d never know, and yet amidst the clamor, everyone coexisted and operated like a hive. It was breathtaking the way the urban landscape encapsulated the very microcosm of life, something you were questioning the meaning of just moments ago.

It was the same customary procedure. Your father was the exemplar of stress when his ability to moderate his emotions became overrun. The conversation would always begin the same way, with him spouting obscenities about the financial hardship your family was in. He was the sole breadwinner of the household while your mother remained home and maintained the hearth. Her quirk wasn’t anything exceptional, and it was the reason why she was unable to find work. Only so many careers could make use of a germination quirk, the ability to manipulate seedlings, and floral shops in the area weren’t looking for any new hires. That was why you were training and studying especially hard at school. You figured if you were able to make it as a top pro hero, your parents would never find themselves arguing about money ever again. You could provide them with anything they’d ever wanted.

But of course those days were far off from your current reality. When your father would raise his voice at your mother, what else was she to do than raise her voice in retaliation? You always wanted to protect her, so you’d find yourself in the middle of it, and the three of you would erupt into an exasperated all-in-with-guns-blazing disarray. No matter how bad each argument got, you managed to make it out of each quarrel without any physical scars, which is why this time you, your mother, and your father were suddenly startled when he used his quirk on you. The empty vase on the dinner table was hurled in your direction without the culprit ever raising a finger, and you barely dodged it with the shallow cut on your cheek as proof. You didn’t even stick around long enough to hear your father’s rushed apologies as your mother attempted to discourage you from running out. You didn’t know where you were running to, all you knew was that you needed to put as much distance between you and your house as possible.

Your first instinct was to call Dabi up. You’d known him for years, and he was one of the only people you genuinely trusted other than your mother. He was the only other person you knew who could relate to your broken home, except he made his escape long ago. Faking his death as his final parting from his abusive father. As attractive as running away sounded, you knew that you’d never be able to abandon your mother. You had to keep your unspoken promise to your family, and it was your job to build the picturesque home that you always wanted.

“Stop thinking so hard.” Dabi’s languid voice drew you out of your reverie, and you glanced over at him in time to see him light the end of the joint with the tip of his finger. He took a deep inhale before exhaling the smoke out through his nose, and then he turned to you, offering up the neatly rolled paper.

You took it between your fingers and lifted it to your lips, echoing Dabi’s movements. It wasn’t long before your chest pushed out the smoke in strangled bursts as you erupted into a fit of coughs, and you hurriedly thrusted the joint back towards Dabi, which he welcomed gladly.

“I’m surprised you suggested this,” he teased. “You know you’re not a smoker.” He took another drag and let out a hazy cloud. “If you’re trying to impress me by proving something, throwing your lungs up isn’t really the way to go about it.”

“Anything to get rid of this feeling,” you responded. “Like my heart’s trying to claw itself out of my chest.” To say it felt like suffering was putting it too plainly. It was much more than that. The pain that nestled under your breast where your heart used to be was your silent killer. It was eroding you from the inside out.

Dabi grunted. “You’re an idiot.”

You turned your attention to him, confused at his choice of response.

“Maybe not an idiot. But you’re naive,” Dabi continued. “Take it from someone who’s been there.” He studied the joint in his hand as if it was an excuse not to look at you.

It was a sick cycle, even for someone like him. Dabi was born with all the fortunate ingredients for a comfortable life. He was attractive with a functional quirk and a pro hero father, yet his future turned out grim. If that was his luck, how much more could you say for yourself?

You mustered a quiet hum. You were already starting to feel the effects of the marijuana, and your limbs grew increasingly heavy as you did your best to sink further into the leather interior of Dabi’s car.

“Isn’t that the whole point of drugs? Temporary relief?” you asked.

Dabi snorted. “No. People do drugs because it’s fun getting fucked out of your mind.” He held the joint out to you, and you hesitated before shaking your head. If what he was saying was true then you figured it wouldn’t be the brightest option to get incomprehensibly high. That would only mean that when your emotions resurfaced after the sensation wore off, it would hit twice as hard.

Laughter erupted from the driver’s seat, but you didn’t bother looking.

“Come on, loosen up.” Dabi coaxed you. “You in the mood to see something cool?”

You weren’t, but you figured you could use the pick-me-up.

Dabi inhaled deeply with the joint to his lips, but this time instead of exhaling immediately you could see him gently swishing the smoke around in his mouth before setting his jaw. He rounded his mouth and pushed the fog out in a thick ring. He lifted his hand, snapping his fingers towards the top of the circle, causing the shape to cave in and form a delicate heart.

Smiling while you were sad was the emotional equivalent to getting a root canal, but your stiff frown melted into a small smile, and you looked down to hide your amusement.

“Stupid,” you grumbled idly, stifling a small laugh.

Dabi grinned, nudging you with his elbow. “You like that?”

You glanced off to the side before succumbing to your weed-induced laughter, which felt much better once you let it out.

“Let me show you something else. When I blow, just inhale. Okay?” He directed. Although they were half-lidded, his eyes were glazed, like blue glass.

You rolled your eyes but agreed regardless, only feeling pressured to back out once you slowly registered Dabi leaning over the armrest to close the space between you two.

Is he going to--?

Your train of thought came to a halt at the jarring feeling of marijuana smoke being blown into your face. What were you supposed to do? Fuck, you were supposed to open your mouth. You forgot to open your fucking mouth.

“You forgot to open your mouth,” Dabi said, repeating your thoughts.

You prayed that you didn’t look as frazzled as you felt. If Dabi knew you were frozen and flustered at the sheer thought of him kissing you, he would never let it go. The teasing would be endless, and you’d have to endure it to your grave.

“Right, sorry. I forgot,” you replied sheepishly.

“I literally gave you the easy part,” he teased.

Oh, fuck off, you thought. The voice in your head sounding louder than usual. You hoped that he couldn’t hear it. There is nothing easy about what you want me to do.

“Whatever. Try it again,” you said simply. Your tongue was now dry and felt heavy in your mouth. You could tell by the slick arch in Dabi’s eyebrow that he knew what he had done, and you refused to allow him to go the rest of the night luxuriating in his arrogance.

He went in a second time, mouth full of smoke, releasing it at the last minute when your lips barely collided. Pushing away the distraction of his hand on the back of your neck and his lips hardly brushing against yours, you did as he instructed, inhaling once the cloud left his lips.

Dabi sat back, enthused in the way your lips remained parted in surprise.

Sober, you would have hated the way he was looking at you, smug with satisfaction at the achievement of just having bewildered you, but with cannabis clouding your brain, your close proximity to Dabi was the only thing you could focus on. The feeling of his lips barely touching yours didn’t seem to phase him at all, like he was planning on it, but with the way your stare yo-yo’d urgently from his eyes to his lips, it became more obvious what you wanted.

You credited your fit of courage to the marijuana in your system because otherwise you would have never considered leaning forward to kiss Dabi, and you surely would have pulled away before the contact deepened into a filthy makeout session. The motion of your mouths were slow, like you were taking your time, but Dabi’s ravenous tongue in your mouth appeared way too eager to swap spit.

His hand found its way back to the nape of your neck just as you mirrored him and did the same in an attempt to push yourselves closer together although there was no more space left between you two.

You thought it was impossible to grow more hungry until Dabi released a throaty moan into your mouth, and your hunger evolved into an ache. Only breaking your kiss for a moment, still joined together by a string of saliva, you quickly climbed into his lap, aided by his strong hand on your lower back.

Was it control? Everything in your life had spiralled out of it, and yet in the moment control was all you had. Once you redirected Dabi’s hands from your hips to your chest, you knew you were drunk off of it. You placed your hands over his, reveling in the way his fingers flexed as he cradled your breasts in his palms, but it wasn’t long before he grew tired of the intolerable fabric between your skin and his.

“Up.” he demanded straightforwardly, his voice husky and low. He tugged your blouse off brusquely, still looking hot, bothered, and unamused until your bra, too, was strewn over the passenger seat along with your shirt.

The way in which Dabi exhaled labordly at the sight of your bare chest was enough to send heat racing to the tip of your ears. Naturally, you would have responded scornfully to his smutty remark about how “your tits were way better than what he imagined whenever he jerked off”, but in seconds his mouth was on your skin, his hot, wet tongue teasing your nipple as he used the tip to flick them tauntingly.

Sinking your teeth into your lower lip did nothing to stop an innocent whine from spilling, and you descended even further when it intensified into you crying out Dabi’s name.

So much for control.

But Dabi adored your lewd cheers while he experimented with different combinations, pinching, pulling, and sucking your delicate mounds to see what would elicit the loudest response.

The throbbing between your legs worsened, and you could tell, or rather feel by the firm tent against the inside of your thigh that Dabi needed relief too. You began rolling your hips, the tip of his erection prodding the top of your clit through irritating cloth.

“Stop doing that,” Dabi chewed out, looking mildly annoyed by you.

Each second that passed felt like an eternity. It was as though the cannabis exacerbated whatever sense of arousal you were feeling by tenfold. You felt insatiable.

“Fuck you,” you breathed. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I might strangle you.”

Your casual and brattish tone did nothing to quell Dabi’s displeasure, and you felt his hand close assertively around your neck, his thumb digging into the side of your throat.

“Bold of you to talk to me that way when you’re the one sitting in my lap.” He bit back. “And what if I decide not to fuck you? Then what?” His gaze was dangerous, yet you were fully cognizant of the fact that Dabi wouldn’t suffocate you, much less get physical with you, but with the current lack of air circulating to your head, you could only smile dumbly.

“Watch the way you talk to me, you dirty whore.”

Initially, Dabi planned on fucking you into oblivion for the pleasure, but now he figured it would be even more exciting fucking you as punishment, dominating the most vulnerable part of you so there was no question who was clearly in charge.

He forced you around in his lap, leaving you unsuspecting while he unbuckled his belt. You were incredibly irked that you weren’t allowed to see how hard you made him, and you feared Dabi’s temper if he caught you managing to steal a glimpse over your shoulder. The sight alone was obscene. His hand was wrapped around his thick cock, pulsating and raw from the lack of sexual contact.

You could only hear Dabi’s shallow breathing and grunts while he pumped himself slowly, but nothing could have prepared you for the pain that erupted across your pelvis once he thrust himself into you without notice. You doubled over in his lap, hands across the dashboard as he bucked his hips forward, burying himself even deeper inside of you.

Dabi guided your hips up and down, ramming himself into you quicker and then even quicker with each jolt. Eventually the sharp discomfort eased into a comfortable sting once you both fell into a sloppy rhythm, his car rocking along with your motion. Dabi dipped his slick fingers into his mouth, coating them generously with saliva before sliding them down to your clit where he opted to rub tantalizingly slow circles onto the sensitive bud.

Your vision melted into hot white light, and the way your body began to tremble violently under Dabi’s touch was a sign you were closer to your orgasm than you thought.

“Are you gonna cum?” Dabi entertained, subtly picking up the pace once your fingers enclosed around his wrist. His honeyed voice was damn near condescending, he knew you were on the brink by the way your moans became louder and more discordant.

When you came you collapsed over the steering wheel, and Dabi followed not even a moment later while your futile pleas were muffled by your bended posture.

“Motherfucking hell,” he groaned, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as he emptied himself inside of you. He pulled out his cock, wiping the crude mixture of both yours and his release on the inside of your thigh before his body went slack against the driver’s seat.

The car windows were now misty with condensation from heat, now obscuring the view you originally came to see.

You could feel Dabi’s hand on your back, rubbing tender circles into your skin in an effort to praise you since he was jaded and at a loss for words. He unenthusiastically shifted around in his seat, searching for a stray napkin to clean you up with, but you only grinned lazily, finding amusement in the new discoverance of your own personal drug.

#dabi #dabi smut #dabi fanfic #dabi fanfiction #dabi x reader #my hero x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia smut #my hero academia fanfic #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia fanfic #bnha #bnha smut #bnha angst #bnha x reader #bnha fanfic #this is filthy im sorry

[the-bau-quinjet]

Memories, Pt. III

Summary: You were captured by Hydra. What did they do to your memories?

Warnings: mentions of violence, panic attacks, torture

Word Count: 1968

a/n: Part 3!! Honestly, I feel like this series could've been a one shot, but I wasn't feeling inspired to write the whole thing at once and I knew I would finish it if I posted part of it because I would stress about people wanting the next part 🙃

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

3 Years Ago

Bucky could only be described as a ball of nerves when you walked into the room. It felt like his brain shut off.

He had spent the last thirty minutes practicing what he was going to say to you when you arrived for your weekly movie night. Basically, it boiled down to six simple words: I'm falling in love with you.

Despite Steve, and a slightly out of character Sam, ensuring him that you felt the same, he was still skeptical. Why would you choose him when you could get any guy, or girl for that matter?

As he nervously stared at you, he could see your lips moving, but no sound could be registered above his own internal panic.

He didn't fully comprehend you had even said anything until he registered the panic on your face. Suddenly, his own thoughts disappeared.

"Oh no. No, no, no. I'm so sorry. You obviously don't feel the same. I'm just gonna go! I'll, uh, I'll see you later." You tried running out of the room, but Bucky was too quick.

"Huh? I don't feel what?" He was completely stunned that he had gotten so worked up in his own nerves that he missed what you said. He was supposed to be trained in observing people. He should be able to multitask, especially when one task is completely within his own mind.

"Bucky, really it's okay. I'll be fine. We'll be fine! I just, I need a minute... or a few to-"

"Y/N, doll, I'm so sorry." He sputtered as tears pooled in your eyes. What the hell did he miss? "I didn't hear a word you said."

"You... what? Why not?" The tears continued to pool as you did your best to hold them back for when you were alone in your room.

Bucky took a deep breath before he began talking faster than you'd ever heard him speak before.

"I'm falling in love with you." You honestly stopped breathing for a minute. "I was trying to think of how to tell you. That's why I didn't hear you. Steve convinced me that I should tell you. Sam a little bit too honestly. They kept saying it wasn't healthy to keep it all bottled up. And, I mean, I just-"

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his eagerly. The kiss was all teeth and tongue, soft smiles growing into wholeheartedly happy grins.

"You're an idiot." You chuckled, pressing your forehead to his. "That's what I said when you so graciously ignored me."

"I- You what?" Bucky's jaw dropped.

"I'm falling in love with you too."

-

Present

Waking up in Bucky's arms felt right. There was no other way to put it. His presence had a soothing effect unparalleled by anything you had ever felt before.

His face was relaxed, a slight smile pulling on his lips. You brushed his hair out of his face, slowly rubbing your thumb along his cheek and down his jaw.

A familiar ball of guilt grew in your stomach as you cuddled closer to his body. It may have only been two days since you woke up, but this group of heroes quickly found a place in your heart, almost like they'd been there all along. Lying to them about your past was gnawing on your heart, slowly breaking down your resolve.

You carefully removed yourself from his embrace, softly closing the door to your bedroom as you left. You knew he would want to talk about last night, and you just weren't ready for that. Not yet.

You wandered the halls until, three dead ends later, you eventually made it to the kitchen. Much to your relief, the common area was empty. You had just enough time to calm your internal panic about what food you could eat when Natasha walked in.

"I'm about to make a smoothie, want one?" She offered, much to your delight.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thank you." The level of sincerity of your words caught her mildly off guard, not that you or anyone would have been able to tell.

"So, how are you feeling?" She questioned lightly, hiding her skepticism at your odd behavior. Call her a pessimist, but 3 months with Hydra and you're relatively fine? It doesn't quite add up.

"Oh, um, okay I guess. I feel like my brain is all jumbled." You settled for half truths again, knowing she would easily spot a total lie.

"Right, well that's to be expected after a few months with Hydra. You said they kept you in that room the whole time?" She kept her tone light, trying to empathize with everything you went through.

"Um, yeah... I-" You grabbed your head as memories flashed through your mind. You were in a room, it looked like a lab but it was dark and grimy. People surrounded you, but you couldn't understand what they were saying.

They poked and prodded at you, forcing you to lay down as they strapped you into a metal chair.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" She rushed to you, smoothie forgotten in the blender as you screamed, remembering the pain you felt in that chair. You didn't even realize you were muttering under your breath.

Her voice drew you back to the present. You abruptly stood up, backing into a corner as you glanced around the room.

Slowly, the past two days came back to you. Flashes of memories, old and new mixed together in your head, all out of order.

You were in the Avengers compound.

Your were buried in rubble, people screaming and crying surrounded you.

They thought you were one of them.

You were being arrested, locked in the room where Bucky found you.

They didn't know the truth.

"Y/N?" Nat questioned again, slowly moving toward you.

"I'm fine. I, uh, I'm okay." You took deep breaths, slowly calming all your nerves.

"What happened?" She pulled you out of the corner, leading you back to the island for your smoothie.

"I, um, I was back there." You stuttered, trying to make sense of the image. "But, it was different. A different room." You were too shaken to think about what could happen from sharing this new development.

"A different room? What did it look like?" Nat was eager to hear more. If you didn't remember everything from your three months there, maybe they did something to you, and that's why you've been acting weird.

"It looked, it looked like a basement. It was dark and grimy." You left out the part about the lab equipment. "I, um, I think I'm gonna go on a walk. Just to clear my head a little bit."

You left before she could respond, smoothie untouched on the counter.

-

When you returned from the walk, you could hear Nat talking to Steve and Wanda in the kitchen.

"I'm telling you, they must have done something to her. She's not acting right." Nat was firm, steadfast in her belief that Hydra wouldn't have kept you there without trying something.

You're heart rate spiked at her words, nervousness overcoming your body. They were going to figure it out.

"Nat, she just came back from three months of torture. Of course she's gonna act a bit different. She needs time to adjust back to her regular life." Wanda replied, figuring Nat was just a little too paranoid.

"You didn't see her in the kitchen! Wan, she freaked out. She looked terrified. She was muttering something about experiments. What if they messed with her head?" Nat rebuked, still trying to convince them.

"I mean, I guess it's possible?" Steve stated, clearly unconvinced but open to the idea. "She hasn't been acting that off though, not when you take into account what Wanda said."

"Steve, she hasn't told Bucky she loves him. That would've been the first thing out of her mouth if she was herself." Nat settled him with a glare, knowing her point was made.

You panicked. If they figured out you weren't who they thought you were, what would they do to you? Before you registered your own movements, you were running.

You made a break for the elevator, twisting and turning through the halls in what you hoped was the right direction.

Just as you turned the last corner, you ran right into something- no someone.

"Where's the fi-" Tony started to joke, but after taking in your expression stopped mid-sentence. "Whoa, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" You replied far too quickly, trying to squeeze past him.

"Y/N, wait." He grabbed your arm, preventing you from getting away. "Talk to me, kid. What's going on up there?" He gestured to your head.

"Really, it's nothing." You wiped a tear from your face, knowing it wasn't helping your case. "I have to go."

"Nope. I'm not gonna let you bottle this all up. You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong. Come on." He pulled you into the elevator, leading you to the lab.

Once he had you sat on the window seat in the back, he asked again. "Tell me what's got you this upset. You know we're all here for you, right?"

You couldn't take it anymore. They were all being so nice, and you were lying right to their faces.

"I'm not who you think I am." You barely whispered the words, overcome with a mixture of guilt and self pity. "I don't belong here." You refused to make eye contact until Tony lifted your head to meet his eye.

"Y/N, you probably belong here more than anyone else, except maybe Steve, but he doesn't count." He tried to lighten the mood, earning an attempt at a small smile from you.

"I really don't. I'm not a hero. I'm a murderer." You cried as you finally admitted the truth. The relief you felt was instantly weighed down by fear at what would happen next.

"What are you talking about?" Tony was clearly confused by your admission. "Y/N, your not a murderer."

"I'm not an Avenger." You moved your hands to cover your face, knowing you weren't strong enough to admit this to his face. "I wasn't in that room for three months, it was three years!" You missed the way his brow furrowed deeper in confusion as you continued to rant. "i don't know why you all think I'm some hero. Nobody was supposed to rescue me. I was in prison. I'm a killer."

You took a shaky breath, as you kept going. "I was in that room because I made a bomb that killed 38 people. I- It was accident, I swear! I didn't mean to hurt anyone... I- I think?" You started questioning yourself as memories flickered through your head.

"It's all fuzzy." You desperately shook your head, trying to make everything clear.

"It wasn't supposed to blow up! It was supposed to absorb energy and convert it into power, but it didn't work." You were nearly sobbing, picturing the people you injured and killed. "It exploded and people died! It was all my fault."

Your breathing quickened again, anxiety at admitting what you had done mixed with the guilt of lying to the only people who have ever shown you kindness causing the panic to set in again.

"Hey, hey! Look at me. You're okay. We're gonna fix this. You're not a killer, Y/N." Tony held your face in his hands, speaking firmly but not without compassion.

"Yes, I am!" You shouted at him, causing him to stumble backwards. "I don't know why you all think I'm someone I'm not, but it's true. I don't-" Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to get the words out.

You managed a mumbled, "I don't belong here." Before you passed out.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

Memories tagist:

@otherglowcloud @dontxfearxthereaper

#Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #marvel fic #marvel #mcu #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Twelve

(Prevoius chapter here)

(Discord Here)

Happy 10th Anniversary!!

Kai is done. He so fucking done with this shit.

He’s getting Zane out, and he’s getting him out right this very minute. It’s already been a month and a half, he’s not going to wait for some long term plan, not when he could be busting Zane out right now!

Kai had spent days and days studying every government file he could possibly get his hands on until he finally figured out where they were keeping Zane.

Some of the things they had written were just plain disgusting.

‘Original has yet to perform as expected, but this is not a large complication as said subject appears to be reaching appropriate behavioral status. Even so, it will require much more regulation before it begins functioning optimally.’

It had taken time to be able to figure out what the hell they had been talking about, but when he translated it he had felt almost sick.

Zane isn’t doing what they want, but they’re starting to make him behave by straight up torturing him. But the worst part is that they don’t even seem to have a problem with that kind of thing.

And even after he had found and translated the files, he had still had to come up with a plan to get inside the near-impenetrable fortress.

There’s a large open field around the base, likely so that they can see anyone who would try to break in or escape.

As a ninja, it’s not even that difficult. He just hides under a truck and hopes he doesn’t fly off as it goes up to the base.

In all honesty, he never thought that the underside of a car would smell so bad. How does Jay enjoy working on these things?

When the truck finally pulls up, Kai carefully unhooks himself and sneakily creeps away, doing his best to not be spotted by the guards.

They scout out the perimeter, but he manages to find lapses in their patterns that let him just barely avoid being seen as he gets inside- though he did have to use Airjitzu at one point.

Caution is the way to go with this. Every step he takes has to be precise. He can’t afford to slip up- not with Zane on the line.

Kai carefully sneaks around, trying to find the cubby that Zane is being kept in. The files he had found gave him a lot more information than he should probably have.

A mission has never been so stressful before. It really shouldn’t be so difficult, but his unease and worry are starting to get to him. Even things as simple as hiding behind a box are leaving him shaking.

If he’s being honest, he probably should’ve told the others about his plan. But they would’ve tried to stop him, probably worrying that he’d get put in jail again.

But this time, he’s not being reckless. This time, he’s putting his best foot forward.

This time, he’s going to save Zane.

It takes him some time to figure out where these cubbies are- because they seriously just put him away like an object on a shelf- and even longer to figure out which one is Zane’s.

Even then, it’s not over. Checking over his shoulder repeatedly, Kai carefully picks the lock, thankful that he had managed to convince Lloyd to teach him.

When he finally opens the locker, he feels relief flood through him.

Then it’s mixed by horror as he sees just how damaged his boyfriend is- they tore his face off. They seriously tore his face off what in the name of the First-

“Kai.” Zane breathes out, a series of conflicting emotions on his face- but they’re all nothing compared to the fear overlaying them.

He looks like he’s near tears, and Kai takes a step forward, ready to finally comfort him, to take his boyfriend home.

Finally.

This nightmare is over.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Zane punches the faux-Kai in the stomach, somewhat upset the fact that his hands are still cuffed. It will be difficult to fend off the one in place of his love like this, but he will manage.

The false Kai stumbles back, clutching his abdomen. “What was that for?!” He chokes out, trying to move closer again.

Wedging himself further back in the locker, Zane glares heavily. “I will not be fooled by your lies!” He snaps. “This facade of yours won’t trick me!”

Pseudo-Kai glances around, slight panic forming on his face. “They’re gonna hear you!” He hisses quietly. “C’mon, we need to get you out of here!”

He tries to grab Zane, but the white ninja resists to the best of his ability. He is unsure what they have planned in store for him, but he knows for a fact that he will not allow himself to be fooled any longer.

“Release me!” Zane demands, managing to get a kick in hard enough that sends the fake Kai skidding back.

“Zane, we have to get you out of here!” Faux-Kai insists, a look of fear and confusion about him as he attempts to grab the white ninja once again. “We don’t have time for this!”

Zane continues to fend him off, and though he is pulled from the locker, he refuses to give any more ground.

“I would rather be tortured than go anywhere with the likes of you!” He snarls, silently cursing the fact that his hands are bound.

It’s difficult, it’s so difficult to hold his ground when he sees the look of hurt and pain on his love’s face.

But Zane shakes his head, trying to dispel the feeling. No, this isn’t Kai, this is an imitation of him, a false version generated by his deluded sensors.

“Zane, I don’t want to fight you! Please, we need to get you out of here! The guards will be back soon, we can’t-“

That’s it. The guards! If they truly want him to believe that this is Kai, they will take him away when they show up.

But they would not listen if he called for them. They never listen to anything he says or does, so they likely would ignore him. So how could he-

As the pseudo-Kai still seems to be figuring out what to do, Zane darts over to a wall and pulls an alarm.

The guards had come when Cryptor had done such, and they will have to show again for the sake of authenticity.

The false Kai stares at him with a look of borderline horror. “Why would you do that?!” He demands. “We can’t-“

In that moment, the guards appear, quickly surrounding them.

Zane glares at them. “Get him out of here!” He demands. “And you plan to punish me for this defiance, so be it! I have learned from my mistakes, and I will not be fooled again!”

While they start dragging the faux-Kai away, Zane turns and heads back to his locker. Even as the simulated version of his boyfriend yells after him, he doesn’t listen, he doesn’t even look back.

When he steps inside the locker, he closes the door, allowing them to re-lock it.

He will not be fooled again.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Kai shouts after Zane, but his boyfriend doesn’t reply, he willfully goes back inside his tiny cell, not even bothering to look back at him.

“Zane!” Kai calls out to his boyfriend as he tries to resist the guards, but not only are they skilled, there’s just too many of them! “Zane, what are you doing?!”

He’s roughly put in handcuffs and dragged away as he struggles to comprehend what has just happened.

What had they been doing to Zane? What could they possibly have done to make him not even trust the sight of Kai?

He continues to resist, but no matter what he does, he can’t make any progress.

Even when he’s taken outside and put in the back seat of a police truck, he still doesn’t stop fighting, he doesn’t stop trying to get back to Zane, to get that locker open and save him-

But nothing works. The cuffs are vengestone, and the guards are just too strong.

He’s once again taken to the police station, and Kai curses under his breath when he sees it.

Not only did he fail to save Zane, he’s also going back to jail, where his teammates will have to pick him up- again.

When he’s put back in the cell, he sighs, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened.

They need to save Zane. Every moment they wait, he goes through more and more.

But his plans aren’t working. He only gets in trouble whenever he tries.

… maybe he should try actually listening to the others.

“Zane…” he mutters to himself, “Zane, I promise we’ll get you out of there. Just hold on a little longer.”

“Hold on.”

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Zane is taken to the training room not long after the fake Kai had been taken away and he sighs as he realizes that he will likely be punished for not allowing himself to be tricked.

Martha steps into the room, a rather intrigued look on her face.

“I’m glad you’re finally starting to see your place. You really do belong here.” She smiles, sounding somewhat amused.

Zane scoffs. “I would not be fooled by such an imitation!” He snaps, annoyance taking over him. With all the manipulation they had done, do they truly believe that he would continue to fall for their obvious lies?

“Original…” Martha shakes her head, “if he was an imitation, why would we have taken him away?”

Sighing, Zane decides to hold the conversation, even though it seems to be only to bother him. “To make it seem as though he was real when he was not, to delude me into thinking-“

“No. In what situation have we ever ended an illusion because you wanted us to? We would have created an excuse, claimed that he drew them away.” Martha explains, and Zane hates how her words ring true. Everything they had done so far points to the fact they would do that.

“This- you lie!” He argues against her despite that. He would not have fought off the real Kai, he would not allow himself to stay in this wretched place, he-

“Claim what you will, Original. But you know that I’m right. That was your teammate. And now, you’ll never see him again.”

While Zane knows they can manipulate his sensors, every scam he runs proves that she’s not lying, and every thought process points that what she says is true.

“I… you- it…” He finds himself fumbling for words, desperately trying to find a way to prove that she’s wrong.

“Take it back to its locker. It did good today; no training is necessary.”

Horror has fully taken over him when he’s returned to the locker, and he tries to struggle against them, though he knows it’s futile.

That night, he cries himself to sleep.

He really is just a stupid metal box.

#the rights of a nindroid #ninjago zangst #zangst #ninjago fanfiction #psychological torture #torture #trauma

[anomander-dragnipurake]

Possessed Chapter Three: Mario

Without the adrenaline coursing through him, the pain in Luigi’s arm was so much worse. It throbbed in time with the rather horrid headache that was rapidly setting in. He wanted nothing more than to lie down in a dark room and curl around his arm in wretched misery. But despite how bad it was, King Boo’s only complaint was that the blood leaking from it and soaking into his sleeve and getting all over his front too ruined the look he’d been going for.

‘It’s not my meat suit,’ he explained. ‘So I have no reason to care if it gets damaged.’

Well Luigi cared and he would very much prefer it not be. He had no say in that though. King Boo didn’t even seem inclined to bandage his arm because he was just like that.

Instead he focused on E. Gadd and ensuring he did as he was told and freed all the boos in the three vaults he’d kept them in. As soon as they were all released back into the wild, Luigi got an uncomfortably strong sense of King Boo’s happiness about it and this situation as a whole. He was almost tempted to cling to it to escape his escape his misery more but didn’t; he didn’t want to share in King Boo’s joy about any of this.

Next came the destruction of the equipment that had captured and held the boos, including the Poltergust E. Gadd had been seemingly been in the process of repairing before he tried to use it defend himself with it. King Boo stepped in to do that himself, using a mix of magic and Luigi’s fists and feet and eventually even a crow bar.

He was ruthless, zapping, punching, kicking, smashing, until E. Gadd’s machines were reduced to a pile of metal and wires. It made the pains Luigi was already experiencing worse and introduce new ones. And King Boo didn’t stop at the vaults and Poltergusts either, he started going to town on everything else in the lab too, his rage fueled by a personal vendetta.

E. Gadd tried to protest a few times but King Boo wasn’t listening, he gave up when King Boo threatened to kill him if he didn’t shut up. Polterpup stayed by him, always placing himself between him and King Boo growling ferociously whenever the latter moved too close. Overall, it was bad, stressful time for everyone except for King Boo.

“There, you’re done” E. Gadd said what felt like forever later when King Boo’s anger seemed to finally be spent and everything in the lab had been reduce to little more than piles of rubble. “Now release him.”

Panting a little from exertion, King Boo turned to face him with a grin, resting the crowbar against Luigi’s shoulder. “When did I say I was going to do that? I don’t think I even implied it as a possibility.”

E. Gadd gasped and glared. “But… you can’t… You got what you…”

“He’s my puppet, I’m not giving him up.” Lifting his chin, King Boo tossed the crow bar to the side and started for the exit. “Lucky for you though, I’ve decided to let you live. Leaving you alive after wrecking your lab, destroying your life’s work, unable to take revenge against me without hurting your friend even more than he’s already hurting is better vengeance anyway.” ‘If he attacks, I’ll change my mind though, I don’t like disrespect.’

Thankfully, E. Gadd just muttered a few more attempts at a protest that King Boo ignored completely. He followed King Boo out and to the car, only giving up when King Boo slammed the car door shut.

‘Let’s go pay Mario a visit now, huh?’ King Boo said as he backed out of the driveway, running over E. Gadd’s mailbox in the process.

Just when things seemed they couldn’t get any worse too. … Please don’t. But… no amount of begging would convince King Boo to change his mind. He only took pleasure in it and thus… Luigi didn’t even try very hard. … King Boo laughed out loud about that.

 -

By the time they reached Peach’s Castle, Luigi was tired enough that he probably would’ve been able to fall right asleep even with the pain in his arm. The bright sunlight as King Boo walked his body through the courtyard hurt his eyes and made him feel unwell – part of that might be blood loss though. Though it was nothing compared to the dread growing in him at the thought of Mario seeing him like this; a pitiful sorry state, actively violated by King Boo.

What was Mario going to do or think or say? Would he believe that this was Luigi’s fault somehow? How disgusted would he be? Would he even…

“Luigi?” It was a toad, he approached King Boo and Luigi hadn’t even noticed.

“I’m looking for Mario,” King Boo said, attempting to speak like Luigi.

“What’s up with the uh…” Toad trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his face. “And why are you dressed like that? And what happened to your arm? That’s not… blood is it? I don’t like blood.”

King Boo held back a sigh of annoyance. “I-I need to talk to Mario. It’s important. Do you know where he is?” His imitation wasn’t the worst in the world but with everything else it shouldn’t be at all convincing. … Unfortunately, the castle toads had never paid much attention to Luigi so this one looking like he believed it was not much of a surprise.

“Uh… uh… I’m not sure. Probably in the castle somewhere, maybe his room. You uh… should probably get that looked at if it is blood… it doesn’t look good.” At least it wasn’t actively bleeding anymore though, right?

“Yeah, sure, I’ll do that.” King Boo turned away to start for the castle again. ‘Toads are annoying, how do you put up with them?’

Luigi should respond in defense of the toads but considering how that one had just mostly ignored the fact that something was very blatantly wrong here he wasn’t even really sure he wanted to. And he lacked the energy to really try anyway.

As always, the door to the castle was unlocked. The toads guarding it reacted to Luigi’s current appearance much the same way the first one had, letting King Boo enter with little questioning. Ugh! How did they not see the crown and think ‘King Boo’? They’d never been the smartest folk around but surely they couldn’t be that stupid? … Then again though, other than the toads who’d come to the hotel with Peach, none of the castle toads had ever seen King Boo so maybe they just didn’t know.

‘Or maybe they just hate you. It wouldn’t surprise me.’ King Boo smirked as he strode freely into the castle.

Maybe you should just shut up.

King Boo laughed internally. ‘Oh, getting angry now, huh? Sure did take a while.’

Luigi refused to respond. Everything he did or said only ever seemed to give King Boo cause to taunt him some more. So… he was just going to stop thinking for a while instead. … Too bad that was really hard to do.

The entrance hall seemed to be empty. So were many of the rooms and halls except for the occasional toad. Most were too busy to pay King Boo much mind but the ones that did, all believed his only half decent Luigi impersonation, expressing nothing but concern for his obviously sorry state. None of them knew where Mario was though, that was a relief.

Maybe Mario was out somewhere doing something with Peach or Yoshi or anyone else. Hopefully wherever he was, he’d stay there until something happened and King Boo was no longer a problem. … What were the chances of that happening though? … King Boo’s response to that thought was a hearty laugh.

After searching half the castle, they ended up in the entrance hall again. Before King Boo could start for the other half, the sound of the entrance door opening drew his gaze. … It was Mario!

‘Finally!’ King Boo was utterly delighted. Luigi was utterly the opposite.

Mario had spotted him too, pausing for a second before coming further in. “Luigi?” His brows were furrowed with worry as he came closer. “Toad told me you were looking for me. Are you… okay?”

No, Luigi was not okay. He’d never been less okay in his entire life. He desperately wanted to tell Mario that and... he desperately wanted Mario to save him.

King Boo laughed out loud, twisting Luigi’s face into an evil grin. “Hey Mario, it’s been a while. Though really, I don’t know how long it’s been, it’s hard to keep track of time while in captivity.”

Only a few feet away now, Mario stopped, his face hardening. “Who are you? And why do you look so much like my brother?”

“Can’t you guess based off the crown?” King Boo gestured to it. “And I look like your brother because in a way I am.”

No, you’re not!

Mario was silent for a few seconds before it seemed to click. “King Boo?”

“Yup!”

Mario rushed forward to grab Luigi by his shirt front. The look on his face said he wanted to punch King Boo and King Boo was going to let him. “What did do you do to him?”

“Nothing actually, well, other than steal his meat suit anyway.”

Mario’s grip loosened as he stepped back, a look of horror coming over his face. “Is he… if you…”

“Nah, he’s still in here.” King Boo winked as he tapped the side of his head. “Which is the whole point of this. You can’t do anything to me without hurting your bro even more than you’re going to be hurting me. It’s brilliant, isn’t it? I should’ve thought of this a long time ago instead of trusting Helen to do anything with her stupid hotel.” He did not like Helen, her obsession with him made him uncomfortable. … If only Luigi could do something with that knowledge or at least find it funny. “This is better vengeance anyway, don’t you think?”

Mario opened his mouth but failed to say anything for several seconds. “Why… just why?”

“Because I can and because I wanted to.”

Luigi willed Mario to run away now before King Boo could hurt him or worse. He’d have a better shot at fighting back than E. Gadd had but unable to fight back properly King Boo might still be able to…

Please, you’ve had your fun, please just leave now. Don’t… don’t hurt him… please. Luigi wasn’t even begging to be let go, he just didn’t want to watch and feel as his hands were used to hurt the people he loved. He wouldn’t be able to take that, it was too much.

King Boo was absolutely delighted with both the look of useless fury on Mario’s face and with Luigi’s desperate begging. He’d won, he was finally victorious over his enemies at last. No more would boos be sucked up into vacuums or bullied. He’d done what no other person had ever done before, he’d utterly defeated the Mario bros. And now he was going to have a little fun with that.

No… please don’t. Luigi pulled his mind away from King Boo’s thoughts as much as he could but they were too intense to get away from completely. Please don’t hurt him.

King Boo took a single menacing step towards Mario and… Something hit the back Luigi’s head with a loud bang, bringing an intense flash of pain followed by blessed nothing.

***

Mario gaped as Luigi’s body crumbled to the floor in a heap. He’d seen Peach sneaking up on King Boo from behind but he hadn’t expected her to whack him with a frying pan.

“That’s my bro,” he said gesturing uselessly at his poor brother who’d already clearly been through so much.

Peach nodded as she lowered the frying pan. “I know. But we needed to stop King Boo before he did something or before he left, bringing Luigi with him.” Yes, but surely there were less violent ways to do that. “So I knocked him out. Now all we have to do is take him to the doctor so she can look at his arm and uh… maybe head now too. And then we’ll lock him in a cell until we figure out how to get King Boo out of him.”

Mario could only groan. While that was a good plan and the only one they really had, it meant Luigi would most likely suffer even more. Why couldn’t there be a fix now?

“Come on,” Peach said as she put the pan away and crouched down to pull Luigi into a more upright position by his arms. “I need your help lifting him.”

Before obeying, Mario bent down to grab King Boo’s crown. It was much smaller now but still obvious. Maybe removing it would… Nope, it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard Mario pulled on it. So it did seem to be tied to his possession of Luigi’s body somehow but not in a way that made it any easier to fix.

“It’ll be okay,” Peach whispered as Mario gave up on that. “We’ll fix this, I promise.”

Feeling a bit choked up, Mario could only nod his thanks. Hopefully for Luigi’s sake, she was right.

 -

While the castle doctor was patching up Luigi, Mario called E. Gadd. Surely if anyone knew how to fix this, it’d be him.

“Mario,” he almost shouted into the phone as soon as he picked it up. “Watch out for Luigi he’s…”

“Possessed by King Boo,” Mario interrupted. “You knew?” And didn’t think to call and share that news, really? It’s not like Luigi was his baby brother or anything, so why would he need to know something like that?

“Well uh… now that I think about, I should’ve called to tell you but uh… my lab’s in a bit of state.” He was too busy cleaning his lab to… “King Boo was rather thorough in destroying everything…” Oh. “… more than just the boo stuff too which wasn’t part the deal. Neither was freeing Luigi like I thought… hoped. He left me alive though so… there’s that. … I should’ve called.”

“What happened?”

“Well, Booigi came to my lab and tried to kill me. He would’ve succeeded if Polterpup hadn’t jumped him. Then he said he’d let me live, if I freed his boos and destroyed the boo vaults but he destroyed everything else too and I watched because… there was nothing I could do and I thought maybe he’d let Luigi go after he got what he wanted but he didn’t and…” He made a wordless sound of frustration accompanied by the sound of his fist banging something metal.

With a sigh, Mario informed him on what was happening over here and the general plan which relied heavily on him. Everything in his lab being destroyed didn’t bode well for their plans though but it was still all they had.

E. Gadd hemmed and hawed for a few seconds after Mario finished talking. “Well, with my lab the way it is, I can’t guarantee anything but I’ll try. It might take a while though.” That… wasn’t surprising. Hopefully Luigi could hold on for a while longer.

#My writing #super mario bros #luigi's mansion #Booigi #King boo #Luigi #Mario #Peach #Angst #some violence

[namelessthirst]

could you write something for slow and suuuuuuper loving sex with bakugou i haven’t really seen anyone writing this before it’s always rough fucking with this exploit boy idk i wanna see his soft side more yknow🥺🥺

God yes??? We all love hot and heavy Baku but what about slow and sensual baku?? Both? both. Both is good.

I would say this came out fluffier than i expected, but nah it’s pretty well set.

this is like legit borderline ripped straight from my personal internal fanfic but with like Added Details 👀💦

Again

[Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Ao3

1k and some change

Sleepy sex, fluffy sex, slow sex, Bakugo having feelings and all of the mare mushy.]

It was late. The angle of moonlight shifting between Katsuki’s curtains surely was evidence enough. He wouldn’t even have to peer at his too-bright phone to know it was well after midnight. 

He should be exhausted. 

It was only earlier today that you and he’d had sex for the first time. 

It hadn’t gone as he’d expected. Not that he’d really planned it out to begin with. 

It was only spurred on by a sudden flare of want. Just because some kid saw you two kiss, and promptly mistook the shape of your belly for one of pregnancy, rather than merely extra weight. 

You’d corrected the kid, of course, with grace. More so than he’d have done it with, even if the assumption was made without malice. 

Still, the idea that anyone looked at you and assumed you were carrying a baby he put there… Well, it lit something up he didn’t expect to find. 

It wasn’t as though it was something that was going to happen. At least not any time soon. You’d laughed with him after the fact, noting that he needn’t worry about truly getting you pregnant, that you’d been on birth-control for some time now. 

Still, you never said never. 

Though the charge of the moment had him aching to knock you up, he knew it was far too early for either of you to be having kids. The loom of starting pro-hero work heavy against the wish of domesticity. 

Still. 

He tossed and turned, it’s not as if he disliked his first time with you. But something in him just…couldn’t settle. 

With a huff he tore his blankets off, bringing his feet over to the cold hardwood floor. After a moment of sleep-deprived irritation, he pushed himself up off his bed and started the walk toward your room.

The jingle of keys outside your door made you stir just a bit, but only enough to make you turn over in your blankets. 

His steps were quiet, slipping the door shut as softly as he could. 

He didn’t really know what he wanted right now. But he did know you looked beautiful, tucked up warm with your cheek squished so soft against your pillow. 

He sat back squat on his feet on your level, brushing his thumb over your cheek, fingers dusting over your ear into your hair. 

You shifted again, the touch pulling you from your slumber. It only took one breath in to know who it was, the smell of sugar and spice, and everything occasionally nice. 

You turned your face into his hand, eyes still closed even as you spoke with a sleep-drunk voice, “Mm, Suki? ’S late…" 

He let his thumb carry over to stroke down the bridge of your nose, knowing quite well it was late. 

When you didn’t get a response, you opened your eyes with effort, "Jus’ can’t sleep?" 

Before he could answer, you wiggled back toward the wall and lifted the blanket around you, "In?" 

It took him a moment, and an impatient flapping of the blanket, before he climbed with you. 

He was lucky you were such a bedding hoarder, pillows stacked a-plenty around you with blankets to balance. So no awkward sharing beyond the comforter draped over you both needed to happen. 

Not that he minded at all, getting to slip his arm over your warm middle while the other stuffed itself cozily under the pillows. 

"Mm, better?” You asked as you got comfy against him, reaching around him to pull the blanket tight to his back. It wasn’t as though either of you would get cold like this, but being tucked in was just…nice. 

“Yeah." 

You smiled at the first real word he’d said to you since he came in, running your hand up under his shirt to feel his back as you pecked his lips. Once, twice, noses smushing but neither of you minded. 

Your hand trailed along his spine, pressing into his muscles as you let your eyes close again. He was always so tense. It wasn’t as if he didn’t take care of himself, he was always careful to stretch before and after training. Yet still, you could feel the stress in every inch you explored. 

You knew he didn’t mind this, your touch, not his hidden stress. He still held fast in his refusal to be so clear about things like that. Luckily, he didn’t need to. It wasn’t as if you two never got snug like this, though it was slow-going. Your relationship was still in its early stages, you knew. But you were more than ready for moments like these, worrying to him and others before about pushing them to happen too soon. 

He scolded you, not unlike how he did most, but specially for you with a quieter voice and a warm hand strung through your hair to pull your dumb worried head to him.You knew damn well how to tell when he was truly uncomfortable. For all his grumbling and your teasing when you got handsy in public, he didn’t mind. 

You weren’t wrong, when you said it was a good excuse. To please what was his, of course. Just satisfying your needy affection, definitely none of it anything he craved or initiated. To show off just how well he had you attached, how wanted he was. Appealing to his pride was generally a good idea. 

So on you went, and on he ‘allowed’. 

Taking a seat on his well-built lap even when there was space open on the sofa. Finding new ways to mess his hair as your hand fidgeted idly at lunch, at the breaks in class, at the start of training when instructions were given. Stealing kisses just because, because you were going somewhere, because you were tired, because you could, because you just wanted to. 

Still, what he could have in private was his favorite, willing himself to relax into the ticklish dusting of your nails along his lower back, letting his breath even out with yours. 

Dozing came easily, his wandering hands to match your own, more so. 

Neither of you minded the shifting, how your breath would brush over each other, gentle pressure freckled between rounds of light sleep. Time didn’t feel so solid as you hung in the late-night embrace, letting you both take your time and your fill. 

When passing kisses grew warmer, and hands gripped a little tighter on softened flesh, neither of you deigned to open sleepy lids. 

He didn’t ask, when you tugged him over you, needing little coaxing before you could feel the weight of him on you, feel his cool nose nestle into your neck while you brought your knees up around his hips. 

"Again?” You asked. 

“Again." 

You sighed like you were sinking into a warm bath when you felt him press his need against you, limbs lazy and heavy as you pushed his sweatpants away till you could hook your toes in them and take them further. 

He squeezed your hip and you lifted them for him, brushing your mound against him in the wake and you shivered as he kept his lips against your neck, trailing right up to the spot just behind your ear where he knew you loved. 

He left his hand under your hips once your underwear was sent the way of his sweats, and you pulled the blanket over you both tighter, caging the heat as you tangled up with him. 

Slow grinding was the next step while you held each other. His higher arm tucked under your head and pillow, while yours found purchase in the hair on his neck, the other wrapped around his side to rest your fingers at his tailbone. 

He moaned into your mouth when he felt your arousal paint hot across his, giving a nudge to check before he came in. You brought your knees a little higher, spread yourself a little more, giving him the go as you caught his lip between yours. 

The drag of him inside had your breath warming his ear as he bottomed in you, cheek pressed to yours as he kept his insistent hips paced to match how your fingertips scraped along his neck. 

He wanted this to last, finding it easier to press flush and then some, letting his tip kiss your cervix wet with his pre while you whispered praise and sugar to him, than to properly roll his hips. Even so, he did now and then, letting the slick he pulled with him dribble onto the bed. 

So, like this you stayed. Entwined, warm, wanting without urgency. The barest shift in light might have warned of dawn, yet neither of you wanted to move. If the day had to be sleepy, so be it. 

It was only when his newest thrust had you break the kiss in a whine, tongue teetering on the edge of his lip and your nails digging in just above his ass, when he figured it was about time. 

His own need was throbbing by now, relief sought in a climb. He was quite skilled at jumping from zero to a hundred in a blink, but he didn’t need to. 

Freshly sweaty foreheads pressed while he took you properly, hips stuttering as he worked to fend off his own orgasm until he could lure yours. You didn’t make it easy on him, hot walls gripping tight with each retreat and fluttering with each dip home. 

He knew you’d come, not with a cry or a call, but with how your fingers pulled at his hair, how your thighs hugged his hips so suddenly, and the heat he felt soak his groin. 

He pressed his face to your cheek as he chased his end, steamed breath on your skin as he drew out your aftershocks. You could feel him fisting the pillow under your head as his final thrust lifted your hips off the bed, just a bit, flooding you at last. 

His hips twitched against you as he made sure he’d emptied entirely before easing you back down, feeling the pull of sleep take hold. 

With another few kisses, tired and messy, you both readjusted. His chest hot against your back, palms just as so where they settled across your side, warmed from the excitement of you that his quirk fed from. 

He sighed into your hair, already hearing you drift off, and was glad to find every tug of restlessness gone from his body. 

The morning came too quick, but the night was well worth it.

#bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugo katsuki #lemon #fluff #request #anon #Anonymous

[connorssock]

What if the reason Gavin is perpetually pissed is that he lives with chronic pain that the cold makes worse. This could be due to existing medical condition or injury or both. -fan

Looking back on it, Gavin should have known he was going to have a flareup. He cursed himself repeatedly but it was too late to do much other than phone in and say he needed time off. Again. Even with special consideration and adjustments to work, he still hated the fact that he needed time off. Of course fate would curse him with rheumatoid arthritis at such an early age.

Usually, he could get by, meds kept the worst of the pain at bay and since becoming a detective, he didn’t have to chase down perps personally. It suited him and his knees just fine. Still, with everything going on with sodding androids (who unfairly never got sick and could replace parts that were damaged), the precinct being over-stretched and Hank not pulling his weight, Gavin should have seen the symptoms of another flareup coming.

He hobbled out to his kitchen for the medication and threw a heat pack in the microwave for good measure. Over the years he’d learnt the literature for coping off by heart. Meds, heat (because the cold only seemed to make things worse for him), careful and gentle exercise, and his favourite, relax. Like he could relax at all. The precinct was going down the shitter along with the rest of the world. Androids were gaining sentience and starting to be recognised as equals. It was only a matter of time before one of them swanned in and replaced him. Fowler was already talking about some military grade asshole partnering with him.

The microwave beeped and Gavin hissed as he pulled the heat pack out. By the time he made it back to the sofa and managed to get his legs up, it had cooled enough that he didn’t have to bother worrying about a towel to wrap the thing in.

It took a little under a week before Gavin felt up to getting out of the house. His knee still screeched in protest, the right one was especially bad this time round. But the longer Gavin stayed at home, the worse his mood got and he knew that if he didn’t get himself back on track quickly, he’d need to drop by the psychiatrist again.

With gritted teeth, Gavin went to work, relieved that self-driving cars were a thing so he didn’t have to worry about pedals. At the precinct, he tried to appear as normal as possible, hid his limp behind a slower stride and gritted his teeth. Pain killers were stashed in his bag along with his lunch. Not that they filled him with joy. While they took the edge of the pain away, they did screw with his stomach enough that he tried to stop taking them as quickly as possible. It was a hopeless battle with no victory in sight.

Slumping at his desk, Gavin didn’t realise that Chris had approached with a case file in hand.

“What?” Gavin snapped and rubbed his temple. He really hoped there wasn’t a homicide scene he was needed at.

“Just wanted to run something by you.” Chris looked taken aback and Gavin’s more sour than usual mood.

It was a case that wasn’t really in Gavin’s jurisdiction, he didn’t have time for it either. A week off and a lot of crap had accumulated in his inbox. He was half tempted to tell Chris where to shove it but Fowler saved him the hard work.

“Reed, my office,” he said and shot Chris a look.

Slowly, Gavin made his way into the office, took the stairs one at a time, not caring who saw him. Inside, Fowler was standing next to an android.

“Your new partner, Reed. Show him the ropes.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Gavin rolled his eyes. But when the android stuck his hand out and introduced himself as Nines, Gavin shook it and huffed out a “Reed”.

There wasn’t much Gavin could do, Nines gracefully took the empty desk opposite him, interfaced with the computer and was immediately up to speed on everything. At least he didn’t make a show of it, merely smiled at Gavin and told him he’d get to work on some of the outstanding reports where it was just a case of summarising evidence from the archives room.

Gavin grunted in response but didn’t say anything. He had his own work to get on with. If Nines could entertain himself and maybe even get a load of the more boring reports done then Gavin might even call himself a bit happy.

“Let me get a coffee for you,” Nines had still Gavin’s attempts at getting up. Not waiting for a reply, Nines disappeared into the breakroom. A minute later, he appeared with a steaming cup of coffee and also a glass of cold water. Leaving them on the desk, he returned to his seat.

Gavin wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and he relished the fact he could take his painkillers with water. Somehow it never felt right with hot coffee but he was usually too much on an idiot to remember until it was too late.

“Thanks,” he threw over the desk and got a small smile from Nines in return.

They worked well together, Nines silently working around any limitation Gavin had. He even took in stride the foul moods when Gavin ached particularly badly on a cold day. With winter setting in. Gavin’s knees were slower to bend in the mornings, prone to locking up if he was sat still for too long. Not once did Nines complain that a human was holding him up.

“Why haven’t you asked for a better partner yet?” Gavin asked him one lunchtime.

“There is nobody better than you.” The disbelieving snort Gavin gave drew a sharp look. “Just because your knees give you trouble does not mean you don’t have the sharpest mind here. Even in your less than pleasant moments, I find you very stimulating.”

There was nothing Gavin could say to that other than scoff and bump his shoulder against Nines’. They stood in the breakroom, enjoying each other’s silence.

Of course things couldn’t ever go smoothly. A spate of late night crime scenes, stress of a potential serial killer or copy cat killings, coupled with bad sleep and the cold of winter were a recipe for disaster. Gavin woke up one morning and let out a harsh cry as his knees refused to cooperate. Fumbling for his phone, he called in sick.

He didn’t expect a knock on his door mid-morning when he was crawling out of bed, knees finally giving enough that he could drag himself across the floor. There was a little relief in knowing he could sit next to the drawer with painkillers and rummage around in them while sitting on the floor without having to stand.

“Who is it?” he yelled from next to the bed. The reply was muffled but his phone started ringing.

“Hello?” he picked up.

“Gavin, it’s Nines. The captain told me you had another flareup. May I come in?”

“Key to the door is under the potted plant to your left.” That was all Gavin said before he hung up the phone.

Dignity had long since flown out the window when he had a flare. He waited and listened as Nines let himself into his home and made short work of finding him. There were many things Gavin expected. Mockery for being so helpless and weak. Sympathy for being a fragile human. Even annoyance at having had yet another flareup. Instead, he got Nines sitting down on the floor next to him with a gentle “What can I do to help?”

For the first time in his life, Gavin found he didn’t have to worry about getting things sorted for himself. Nines brought him his tablets, heated up a gel pack and changed the sheets on the bed he had sweated through.

“My research indicates that some people would find a warm bath helpful,” he suggested tentatively.

Truth be told, it sounded amazing but Gavin had never been able to safely get himself in (and then out) of the tub during a flare so he hadn’t been able to do it. That didn’t seem to bother Nines as he ran the bath and gently carried Gavin towards it. Stripping down to his underwear, Gavin let himself be lowered into the warm water and sighed. It really did feel good, so much better than any heat pack. Fingers rubbed his shoulders, dug into tense muscle until he relaxed into the water, half asleep.

“Thank you,” he murmured and turned to lean a cheek against Nines’ hand.

“You’re welcome,” Nines replied. There was a beat before he leaned closer and pecked Gavin on the cheek. “I hope this is okay.”

“More than,” the reply was soft and Gavin opened his eyes to look at Nines properly. “And if you lean a little closer, I could even show you how okay it is.”

Their smiles were matching as Nines moved from behind Gavin and knelt at the side of the tub. One wet hand wound its way around the back of his neck as Gavin pulled him in for a kiss.

#reed900 #dbh: gavin #dbh: rk900 #prompt fill #sick gavin #cw: rheumatoid arthritis

[girlmeetsliv3]

Boundaries II

Warning: The following story contains mentions of mental health disorders, depression, anxiety, manipulation, abuse, and vivid descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~ 

Kim Taehyung had always known the kind of life he would live. The prodigal son of a sick woman and a bastard of a man. At three years of age, his psychiatrist had deemed him an exceptionally bright boy with a tendency to apply those wits to methods of extreme torture and weaponize them as a mean of instant gratification. His mother had managed to convince his father that the young boy's odd tendencies could not be beaten out of him, but required medical treatment; of course, that had cost her a swollen lip and injured wrist. After his diagnosis, treatment began immediately. First, the doctor ordered the removal of any emotional or physical triggers in the Taehyung’s life. He was immediately placed into a foster home and banned from having any contact with his biological parents. Second, understanding where and when it was acceptable to release his darker urges as a mean of stress relief. Various scenarios were discussed with the young boy, only when he was in danger or when his rage aided others could he utilize it. Lastly, a support system with means of controlling and understanding him. It was supposed to be his psychiatrist, the nurses, or even his parents; but Taehyung found his support system in you.

When the time to enroll in primary school had rolled around, it was a unanimous decision that the only way to test if Taehyung could function in society was to allow him to participate in it. Neither the school administrators nor his teachers were informed, for they wanted fair treatment. When the first day of school rolled around, the boy began to experience something he never had: nerves. Most of his early years were spent in a clean sterile environment surrounded by people twice or three times his age. How exactly was he to behave like a normal child, when he himself didn’t know what a child was. It didn’t take him long to figure it out though. By the time the teacher had announced it was break time, Taehyung found that being a child consisted of being presumptuous, picking on others, and forming distinctive cliques of friends. His distaste may have also been that once he stepped into class, one of the taller boys had made fun of his dialect and since then no one had dared talk to him.

Taehyung had taken it as a threat and planned to hurt the boy after class had concluded. So, he sat alone in the corner letting his mind wander into all the different ways he could harm him. He rationalized it was acceptable, for he was only allowed to hurt others when he was in danger and the boy had practically threatened him. He failed to notice the small girl in pigtails with matching red scrunchies walking towards him until she stood right in front of him. When he finally looked at her, he noticed she was different: her cheeks, eyes, lip shape, and complexion were entirely different from his and everyone else’s. She stood out and it intrigued him, for he related to her. When she spoke, her mouth moved oddly and her words were a string of Korean and gibberish interlaced. Had he not been able to pick up on social cues, he would’ve assumed she was making fun of him like the others - but it was her outstretched hand that let him know differently.

It was a gesture he had learned to associate with ‘hello’ or ‘help.’ Whenever the nurses gave Taehyung his medicine they would hold out their hands so he could squeeze it tightly, transferring the pain from him to them. He had also witnessed that whenever people met they held hands, only if for a moment. He had been analyzing your palm, its length, width, and size when he noticed it began to shake. Afraid that you would take it away, that you would abandon him, he grasped it painfully tight. He failed to notice you wince at his strength due to how happy he was, that he was not alone anymore. That you, a stranger, were there to help him when so many others had judged him and alienated him. After being alone in the dark for so long, he longed for the light you seemed to have in you. He wanted to bask in the sunlight with you, and if you refused to share then he would ensure both of you rot in the dark.

His obsession with you was obvious to those around him in his personal life. All he ever spoke about to parents, nurses, and doctors was you: your smile, your hair, your clothes, your smell. He was excited and genuinely happy. But when he misbehaved by trying to sneak into the girl’s bathroom, the doctor threatened to not allow the two of you to be friends anymore he understood that he must keep you a secret. In order to make sure, no one would separate you. That day after the visit, he’d come home crying to his parents and told him all the supposed things his psychiatrist had done to him during the time they were alone and he was never taken there again. It was better, for it meant he could spend more time with you, but without his medicine or emotional relievers, he found dark urges returning to him more frequently and he indulged in them like never before.

Pigeons, lizards, insects, and other small things became a good way to hurt without creating too much of a mess or drawing too much attention. That stopped once you caught him in the act though, and he grasped that just because you were best friends didn’t mean you accepted all of him. You would come to, however, that he was sure of. As he got older, he began to experiment with different alternatives to subside him: news articles, torture porn, crime documentaries, and his imagination. None proved effective and Taehyung was a ticking time bomb. He was reaching his limit and needed a release or he was going to snap and anyone or anything in his proximity would be collateral. His prayers were answered in the form of Park Jimin getting beat up in an ally. It was a beautiful sensation. Taehyung also discovered that it was not just the feeling of flesh and bones breaking, but the expressions one would display before death that elated him.

It was a pity that you had to bear witness to it. After that moment you had begun to change around him. No longer would you hold him, treat him with warm affection, and claim the two of you would never stop being friends. You now looked at him with fear, there was a hesitation in every one of your movements around him, and whenever he kissed your cheek or caressed your face goosebumps appeared on your arms. When you had asked for boundaries, he had agreed if only because he believed it would make you grow fond of him. The two of you were soulmates and spending time with regular people would make you realize how superior the two of you were to the rest of them. The opposite happened. More boundaries were created and you seemed determined to trap him inside all the yellow lines he could not cross until he could no longer reach you. His feelings for you began to change from want to need, love to desire, and an insatiable bloodlust formed within him.

The girls he fucked looked like you or sounded like you. He watched you and counted down the seconds until you spoke to him again. He was desperate for you. Even his friends began to notice his behavior and after a particularly angsty night, they suggested he get back at you by sleeping with your best friend. Easier said than done, but he had a plan. He had casually mentioned the party the last time you both had been together. It was in your living room when your mom had finally left for work. It had been a while since you had hung out in public with him. He was reduced to short visitations once or twice a month; as if he was some distant unliked relative. You responded with mild interest, but when he poked fun at you for never going out he knew his plan was set in motion. The party was typical. the only excitement was getting to observe you from a comfortable corner on the couch instead of underneath your bushes or through an obstructed window as he was used to.

Once you placed down the red solo cup and headed upstairs, he quickly activated his charm mode and made his way to the girl dancing sloppily in the middle of the dance floor. She was beyond inebriated, but he couldn’t care less. It was pathetic to him how all he had to do was whisper a couple compliments in her ear and she already began to drag him upstairs. With his guidance, they ended up in the master bedroom, where he heard the faucet in the bathroom running. Instantly, Taehyung latched his lips onto her neck and drew out a throaty moan from her. He was riled up. He wanted you to come out and see them together, hell he would even fuck her just to see your shocked expression. But as the seconds passed and you made no effort to make your presence known, he became angry. How dare you not play with him?! How dare you refuse to be his anymore?! How dare you remain in that stupid bathroom, when it should be you underneath him panting his name?! How dare she not be you?!

Taehyung failed to notice how his hands had crawled up to the girl’s throat, nor did he pick up on when gasps of pleasure turned to that of pain. It wasn’t until she clawed at his hands that he noticed, still his anger had consumed him by that point and he figured that if you didn’t love him - you should fear him. He continued to apply pressure until the gurl’s breathing shallowed and she passed out then, he stood up and left. Making sure to slam the door loud enough for you to hear, so you would come out and see the present he had left for you. He was certain once morning rolled around, you would come to him begging for forgiveness and eager to please. The exact opposite occurred. You had misunderstood his message as an omen, leading to the conclusion that the two of you could be no more. Or as you had phrased it, “Perhaps none of the boundaries worked, because there wasn’t a physical one.” He lost it.

As you drove off, he stood frozen staring off into space trying to comprehend where everything went wrong. For days on end, he racked his brain trying to decipher everything until he landed on one word: boundaries. Ever since he could recall, everyone around him had placed boundaries on his emotions, behavior, and thoughts. Telling him what he can or can’t do. What is or is not acceptable. In following those boundaries, he had not been his true self but a persona around everyone including you. That explained your behavior: you were confused as to who he really was and upset that he lied to you - concealed himself. Due to this, you had set boundaries around yourself, in order to understand him more. It all made sense. But there would be no need for that anymore. Between Taehyung and you, there were to be no more boundaries; emotionally, mentally, and/or physically. The two of you would give yourself to each other unconditionally so that nothing could ever tear you apart.

Taehyung knew that you needed time and he granted you what you desired. That doesn’t mean he needed to stop being a part of your life, it just meant you had to remain unaware that he was. It was quite easy. The city was full of people and after spending months there you too picked up on the habit of walking facing the ground and only paying attention to things directly in your line of vision. It aided a lot. He knew about everything: your university, internship, job, social life (or lack thereof), and even your sleeping problems. Taehyung found himself enjoying the city, it was full of people like him and they all blended so well into the society that they need not hide. He knew that this type of environment, however, was killing you. Still, where he lived no one would question if he came in carrying an unconscious girl or if he was soaked in blood, it was nice.

Finally, the day came, he had called human resources in your job anonymously threatening to file a report since in the three years you had been working there you’d never had a day off. He knew why you did it. It was a distraction from your thoughts and him, but it would be more suspicious if you suddenly didn’t show up to work the next day. He planned to break in the middle of the night, but he thought that if there was any possibility you would be awake he’d take it just to see your reaction. It was perfect. It reminded him of the first time the two of you met and had him longing for the old days. So much so that when he grasped you in his arms he whispered the words that had started it all. The ones that made him fall for you. The ones that sealed your fate. Taehyung lifted you in his arms and carried you out of the apartment, heading to your new home excited for what would occur once he got there.

-

You awoke nude on a bed with your limbs tied forcefully apart. Your senses were still muddled as you tried to grasp what had happened and then you saw him. He entered in stark naked with a smile adorning his features, it was like his first smile so long ago. Once he saw that you were awake he rushed towards, jumping on the bed to straddle you and planting harsh unwanted kisses all over your face. “I’m so glad you’re awake y/n. Now we can get started.” His tone was light and playful, which only caused terror to grow in you. “Get started with what?” you asked softly, tears brimming your eyes as the devilish man leaned closer to you. He chuckled, “We’re getting rid of all the boundaries that have ever plagued us and stopped us from being truly happy.” His hands ran along your entire body and vile rose in your throat as the tears spilled. He didn’t notice or didn’t care. “First, we begin with emotional boundaries where we’ll be completely open and honest with each other. Then, the societal boundaries where we can indulge in our darkest desires. Finally, we’ll destroy your support system. Since your mind seems so keen on making you resist me, I’ll break it.”

You were openly sobbing now and thrashing against him, whilst he looked to be in heaven. His hands wrapped tightly around your throat constricting the air supply to some shallow breaths, “And if life is persistent in keeping us apart, then we’ll be together forever in death.” He squeezed until he felt your breathing halt and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You weren’t dead, merely in a temporary state of unconsciousness. When you woke up again - the real fun would begin.

#bts #yanderebts #yandere bts #yandere #btsau #bts fanfic #BTS v #kim taehyung #bts taehyung #v x reader #taehyung x reader #yandere taehyung #yandere v #bts x reader #dark #tumblr writers #yandere kpop #drabble #angst #bts angst #Self Insert #boundaries #girlmeetsliv3

[angstymarshmallow]

infallible (ethan ramsey x mc)

[a little note: thanks to the anon for getting my inspiration flowing with number 7 from those soulmate au prompts. I kind of played around the idea a little more of them having an emotional link when they touch because I thought it would be too overwhelming to have it as a constant thing even without touching. This kinda became bigger than I anticipated but I’m happy enough with it to post it and I hope this comes close to what you were looking forward to].

[words counted: 2739]

The nights at Edenbrook hospital had been filled to the brim with people lately. Not that Sawyer was complaining. She loved people, and was always thrilled with the knowledge of providing the best support she could – even if it were sometimes as simple as reading their charts or checking up on patients early in the morning.

Still, Sawyer felt the pull of panic and stress coming from all directions. No matter where she was, there seemed to be something that needed doing and not enough time to do it. In fact, she barely had a moment to catch her breath before she pushed herself head first into another task, another responsibility and coffee could only stave away hunger for so long.

The biggest problem had been there wasn’t enough people on staff. The graveyard shift was quiet and the halls consisted of a few residents scrambling like headless chickens instead of dignified doctors to find an attending.

Still, Sawyer kept her spirits up and smiled whenever someone new had ushered her into another thing that needed doing.

Secretly, she hoped it was about time for her to run into him. They weren’t enough of them to go around after all and from the quick skimming of the schedule posted today, she knew he was working double-shifts tonight. But as luck would have it, Dr. Ramsey’s schedule was even worse than hers’ and she barely caught a glimpse of him within last two hours. And if she were in the habit of being honest with herself, the ache in her chest when it came on to him – hadn’t lessened. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse knowing they were in such close proximities with each other.

Perhaps it was better this way.

This way, it was easier to pretend the lines they’ve crossed never happened. This way, she had no reason to hold her breath – no reason for her cheeks to be shine bright red against the paleness of her skin; despite the deep longing in her heart to see him. To touch him.

Something recently had changed between them, and the shift made it harder for her to forget. Harder for her to pretend.

Sawyer forced her eyes closed for a moment, stopping inside one of the less active hallways to breathe. She repeated the motion, in and out. She tried to force herself out of the habit she’d somehow develop in thinking about him while on the job. There was no room for Ethan when she had other people depending on her.

Steeling her composure, Sawyer dipped into another hall with a new determination in her gait only to come face-to-face with the culprit himself. She hadn’t been paying attention to his approach and bumping into him caused the chart she tucked loosely by her side to fumble and clatter to the floor. She blinked.

Her body was still playing catch up with the rest of her brain as she tilted her chin to stare up at him. Her heart begun a thump thump - hammering wildly inside her chest as one of his hands came up reflexively to steady her.

“Careful, rookie.” His voice snapped her out of her daydream.

Cheeks turning crimson, Sawyer dropped her stare meekly to the floor before she scurried forward to try and desperately grab the blasted thing. “Sorry.” She mumbled.

But his touch had stunned her the most. The moment his fingers brushed her forearm, she had felt his stress. As though anything could be louder than her own – his was almost bursting at the seams. And yet, somehow his face managed to remain mostly impassive when she pulled back to stare up at him.

How could he do that? How could he bury even stress under a layer of nothingness?

She would never know.

But he was still standing in front of her, staring intently and she hadn’t an inkling of what to say. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and his eyes followed the motion.

“You need a break.” He said the words a matter-of-factly; indicating there was no room for an argument.

“So, do you.” Her response had been instantaneous, a reflexive gesture from his dismissive snort. Heck, she even sounded tired when she spoke but she discreetly tried to clear her throat. It wasn’t just about her.

A flicker of surprise flashed before just as quickly vanishing from his eyes.

She understood why, truthfully – unlike herself, he didn’t visibly look it.

Ethan had a way of burying everything underneath the surface that rivalled anyone else she had ever met. And the fact that the strain on his face was barely showing as some type of coping mechanism – shouldn’t surprise her anymore. How often had he done that? She couldn’t count on her finger how many times he managed to keep his expressions visibly neutral.  But today of all days she wondered – how long can he keep up this façade?

It was taking every bit of her willpower to keep smiling with patients, to keep the bubbling energy she was known for around her peers. If she smiled too much, maybe they would see the tiny cracks in her armor, but she refused to be broken.

“I’m fine.” His response was just as terse, if not automatic. He seemed to hesitate, lips forming into a perpetual scowl before he uttered a resigned sigh. “I’ve handled worse.”

Of that, she had no doubt. Ethan was still one of the biggest reasons why she wanted to become a doctor, the fact that the starstruck knowledge of working along with him had mostly worn off was something expected overtime. Still, Sawyer kept a frown at the edge of her lips, letting her gaze linger on the sudden crease in his brow. “If I need one, then you need one too.” It was bold. Telling him that of all people. She might have reconsidered if she hadn’t been this tired, nearly swaying on her feet. “Besides, there’s a lot of people who need attention – so if you could just excuse me –” She stepped past him, determined to get back to work until his fingers brushed her wrist.

It was almost as though he was second-guessing himself, but she could feel it the moment they touched again. Some kind of emotional link that allowed her to feel his anxiety, his stress as deeply as if it had been her own.

She swallowed as she turned to face him, his eyes growing wide with an awareness that made her heart flutter.

Did he feel it too?

Then his lips pressed into a firm line, and he was glancing away. “You’ve been on your feet all night. You’re stressed. Tired.” His words were clipped but Sawyer’s heart does a little flip. Some of his gaze lost its cautious edge. There was worry clouding those stormy seas of his. Worry for her. “You need a break.”

His causal touch turned intimate when his thumb begun brushing absently across the inside of her wrist. It wasn’t just that he was tired, he was lonely too. Longing for something –

Then just as abruptly, Ethan dropped his hands. “Don’t be stubborn about this Sawyer.”

Her throat tightened at the way he said her name.  His own tone betrayed him. He spoke with a softness that drew her out of her own thoughts. She was staring up at him again, watching him without really saying anything.

It wasn’t just that he was worried for her, there was pain that came along with it too. As if he was trying to hold himself back.

She squinted at him. Maybe if she looked hard enough, she could see past his façade completely. “I can’t.”

His jaw clenched. “You won’t.” He retorted back.

“You get it, don’t you?” She shifted on her feet, dropping her eyes to the chart that she rested snugly against her chest.

Of course, he got it. It was the same selfless drive that had him spending his off-hours here instead of the comfort of his home. It was the same selfless drive that kept those dark circles underneath his eyes and the smell of faint brandy on his breath. “There’s too many people counting on us for me to take a break. For you to take one.” She lifted her eyes, saw another flicker of surprise when he met her insistent gaze.

Ethan was suddenly tugging her wrist and Sawyer nearly tripped over her own two feet to follow him. “You’re no good to any patient tired.” He blew out an irritated breath, then lowered his tone. “None of us are.”

Abruptly, the link between them had shifted. All of a sudden – all she could sense was his urgency. He was feeling anxious not just about the countless of people waiting on them. It was about them too – just the two of them.

She wanted to ask. God, did she want to really ask. But she bit her lips hard in effort to stop herself. She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t. What did she even expect him to say? Could they move past never happened?  

Was she prepared for the answer?  

Instead, Sawyer kept mouth firmly shut until they were safely tucked away in the lunch room.

Despite the lateness of the hour, they were still a few stragglers around. As her eyes scanned the room, she was oddly surprised and relieved to see most of them with their heads buried in their arms; taking what she assumed to be as a momentary relief from the hustle and bustle of being on their feet.

Ethan dropped her hand as they entered and halted in front of the snack machine. Within one fluid motion, he tucked a few quarters in. “Here.” He pushed a chocolate bar into her still open palm.

The contact this time, sent another rush down her spine and heat flooded her cheeks. “Thanks,” she mumbled. Glancing down at the chocolate bar, she smiled briefly. It was the same kind of chocolate bar she bought him on her first day.

So much has changed since then, she mused to herself. If anyone had told her she would have become this self-assured and strong version of herself a year ago – she would have withered underneath the praise. But now, she could hold her chin up high because, Sawyer felt more than ever that this was where she belonged – helping people who needed it the most.

I’ve changed.

But the change didn’t just stop there. She wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Her friendships, her peers – were all changing too. Could she have been the same person today without them? Without him?

He pushed her to the best doctor she could be, and if anyone had changed her the most – it was him.

We’ve changed.

She fumbled to wrap her head around it, but there was no other answer. Nothing to quantify the kind of relationship that developed between them. Dr. Ethan Ramsey didn’t seem the sort to have his life spiral out of control – but she had been there to pick up the pieces and he had done the same. They weren’t the same people last either.

And maybe it was time for her to face it. To face the reality that she had been dreading all this time. They weren’t just two co-workers, or even strictly unprofessional – such terms couldn’t define what he meant to her. He was her confidant. Her friend. Her home. Wherever he was – she wanted desperately to be. They were…too much of everything.

Sawyer felt his eyes trained on her as she went completely still at the sudden realization. Cheeks flushing, she hoped more than ever that her own emotions weren’t betraying her. It was one thing if she was the only person that felt this way. If she had to bury her feelings deeply to never reach the surface again – to maintain what was left of their professional working relationship she could.

But if there was any hope of him feeling the same.

Sawyer’s brain fumbled again at the thought.

Slowly, she opened the wrapper before finally allowing herself to stare up at him. “Aren’t you going to get one?”

“I don’t need it.” His answer was as usual – dismissive and short.

Shaking her head, Sawyer broke it in two and handed him half. “Here you go.” She watched his lips draw back to protest, but she quickly beat him to it. “You need it as much as I do.” She mumbled, stubbornly. “Ethan, please.” Look out for yourself, she added silently.

Something in her expression must have changed his mind. With a sigh, Ethan reached for the piece of chocolate she held out expectantly.

As much he looked infallible – all it took was a simple touch to prove differently.

The second their fingers met; Sawyer felt it in an instant. He was tired, immeasurably tired and stressed under the weight of all his responsibilities as the leader of their diagnostic team. “Ethan –” Her words died in her throat.

As their gazes lifted from the chocolate bar and onto each other again, Sawyer’s breath hitched. His earlier urgency returned in full force – but it shifted solely onto her.

A flurry of emotions whirled inside her chest – hunger, passion, pain, love - she could no longer distinguish hers’ from his. It had all melded together somehow, leaving her ragged and hardly able to catch her breath.

Can you feel it? His eyes seemed to say. They had gone from their unnerving and cool reflection of the sea, to something piercing – almost insistent in a way she couldn’t look away from.

I can feel it. She wanted to say, but she couldn’t find her voice. I can feel it so much. There was something wet on her cheeks. She tried to swipe it away, but he beat her to it.

Instead of dropping his hand, his thumb lingered across her cheek.

Maybe it was because she was suddenly too tongue-tied and exhausted to pull away. Or maybe it was because she simply felt too damn tired of holding herself back and pretending - but Sawyer couldn’t have stopped herself even if she wanted to. When her knees buckled and his arms came to  catch her before she could fall – she allowed her arms to reach for him. She allowed the tears to blur her vision as the impact of their own feelings – melded together as one.

He didn’t speak. His lips did for him. They found hers’ as she managed to draw a breath, drawing a soft moan from her slightly parted lips. 

He kept his fingers splayed across her back, suddenly clutching onto the lapels of her coat when they slid further down. He held her in place, but it didn’t matter because Sawyer had melted completely against him.

All form of resistance died when he touched, when his feelings spoke louder than anything he could  have said to push her away. And he would have pushed her away if he hadn’t kissed her first.

Her grip was clumsy as she held on. She wouldn’t let him go again - not now, not ever. Her own heartbeat seemed to rang with the same amount of clarity as Ethan uttered a soft groan.

She could taste the desire on his lips – tasted how much he missed her with every sense of her being as their kisses grew deeper, more insistent until her back felt the cool surface of the snack machine. As the seconds ticked by from the clock across the corner of the lunchroom, her arms slid to his neck and she kept herself tightly wounded against him.

There had to be a word for it.

A word that could describe this. This all-consuming need to not just hold him, but to be with him no matter what. No matter the cost. And it would cost them greatly, loving each other as desperately as this, Sawyer realized. But no matter what people said about them, or no matter Ethan’s own self-destructive tendencies to try and ruin what they have - they were always pulled back together again.

It was because she loved Ethan Ramsey. She loved him in a way that she used to think was impossible.

“You’re my soulmate.” She whispered the words against his lips; felt his shudder ripple through her as an answer. “You’re my soulmate Ethan Ramsey, and I’m never letting you go again.”

-

#open heart #ethan ramsey #dr ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc fanfic #ethan ramsey x sawyer hutton #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #fic request #soulmate au prompt #i really wanted to finish this today #and bury all my other wips in the ground #an angstymarshmallow writes #the tags are scattered to the void my friends

[gold-eyes-vengeful-heart]

Prompt #1: Voracious

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

((Runya mulls over friendship. Or: Runya has dysfunctions and wishes to show you them. Takes place a bit after ShB 5.0′s MSQ.

Mentions: @semper-miles‘ Angerona and @aetherstitch‘s Sorin! As well as Brannon, who is not on tumblr much anymore, but still.))

=====

More than one person who had figured out about Angerona thought his attachment to her...odd.

(He knew that Sorin would never say it out loud, but something in the other Miqo’te’s tone of voice betrayed some of his deeper thoughts and feelings on the matter.)

But he didn’t think that any of them would really understand, when it came down to it. None of them had been quite so alone as he had--not just during the experiments, but even before that, after his parents had fallen prey to the same meat-grinder of the Empire’s military machine that so many others had, savage and pureblood alike. He had always been too reclusive, too glib, too unusual in manner and affect for most to care too much about him, and in turn, he made no effort to know them either; he found their acceptance of their lot, ranging from weary to hopeful, to be an insult to the tales his parents had once told him of a much prouder and fairer nation than the one currently trapped with the Empire’s bootheel on its throat.

(So many of them so easily believed complete lies, some of them so much so that they happily acted as a foreign nation’s enforcers against their own kith and kin. It was disgusting. Of course he didn’t care to extend a hand of friendship to those who would eagerly chop it off for daring to believe that the glorious Empire might not have their own good in mind--or that the Empire’s idea of their own good might be a terrible thing, indeed.)

He didn’t have friends, really. The other soldiers in his unit were all turncoats or cowards, and though no one around him would believe it, he was certain, he had some pride at the time. He had some will to carry through what his parents had always wanted--freedom from the terrors of a marauding nation that thought all of them little better than animals. He had the urge to see such a callous and cruel system overthrown.

(He and Daeyona had much alike, as much as dear Daeyona refused to admit to it.)

But just because he had all of that, just because he had no friends, didn’t mean that some part of him that was still more than human enough didn’t still want them. Some part of him still looked at the clusters of obvious friends joking and laughing with one another even in the depths of the Empire’s machinations of violence, and felt a vicious stab of something that could only be described as envy. He looked at even the worst of people jesting at each other and having visible care for one another, and he couldn’t help but burn with jealousy. 

(If even the nastiest torturers who took active glee in tormenting people could have such things, what did that say about him? As much as he tried, he couldn’t shake the thought.)

He had felt it all the keener when he threw himself into the jaws of the so-called research divisions, when he had foolishly believed that he could simply take some of their technology under the guise of being a “helpful” experiment and start to destroy them with it. He hadn’t heard how bad it was; he hadn’t expected even baser cruelties than he had ever experienced in the barracks of the military, and he hadn’t expected to have his body warped and his very mind stretched and twisted all too close to breaking. 

(The depths of their secrecy was only matched by the depths of their depravity in the name of science.)

A more cynical individual might point out that of course the one woman who had tried to keep such things to a minimum would lead him to feel too much affection for her; he had undergone quite a lot already before she had been assigned to him midway through, and even the slightest relief would lead him to think too highly of the person who had given that to him.

(Maybe even some small part of him that was wary of everything insisted that was what it was.)

But that changed little. He had found the one person who actually seemed to care about him, in all his strangeness that had only grown more strange under the strain and stress of the terrors inflicted on him; she actually showed some humanity towards him, where most others had simply written him off. And what was more, even though she was in part of Garlean blood--and very respectable Garlean blood at that, with her father as a General--she seemingly agreed with him, on the rare occasions he had dared to speak his mind on the Empire to her. She had been keen on proving herself, yes, when she first came here...but she was not nearly as blind as the others to what she was doing. She saw what this division did, and she was shaken by it, and by her first contact with one of the savages that her country had so bent under its heel. She understood. She actually tried to understand him and his ideals instead of writing him off as a danger to her continued existence, or as a savage who needed to be put in his place. How could he not feel something about that?

(But this was not something as petty and asinine as romantic intent. Far from it--he wondered sometimes if he was capable of feeling it at all, anyway.)

He had hungered for so long that he devoured every onze of it that she could give him, even in the positions they were in as experimenter and experiment. It might have been a little twisted of them both, but there was no denying the utter devastation he had felt--still felt--when he had been dragged out and shown what they had done to her in retaliation for the kindness she had shown to him. 

(Or so they told him. It might have merely been a side-effect rather than the initial purpose...But unless he found the men responsible himself, he might never know.)

Even her supposed death had done nothing to slake the hungering for something as simple as affection and understanding, even as his original ideals corrupted and bent under the sheer hate he held for those who had ripped her mind from its socket to replace it with something--someone--different. His entire personality warped into something more snide and underhanded, and yet even something as drastic as that had never stopped the acid loathing in his gut that bubbled at seeing those responsible having something so simple between one another that he had been denied at their hands.

(He hated it he hated it he hated it so much)

Maybe it was no wonder, once he changed his name and even his species and escaped, no longer Aeglius but Runya now, he found himself attached to Brannon as much as he had been. Maybe it was no wonder that he panicked at the realization, some moons on, and had done his best to dedicate himself to his work in bringing down the Empire’s sick rotten society, even going so far as to attempt to murder Daeyona in the process, to gain himself more and more power--and remove the possibility that she might try to stop him for being too extreme about his wishes.

(Maybe in some sense, it was to give him no way to go back, failure or success. No one would have forgiven him for that, he was certain. But funny how things turned out, and how things worked out so soon after--or so it felt--and he found himself unable to run again.)

Yet...he could no more outrun his own inner desires, the ones that spoke on a primal level that he could not ignore, than he could outrun the sun rising in the morning. Sorin had happened; even if he had intended to double-cross him too in the end, he had missed feeling like someone cared, even if it held an edge of frustration and annoyance sometimes (though not for no reason). 

(A starving man would not turn down even the faintest scrap of a meal, he knew from bitter experience. Apparently it applied to the heart as much as the body, whether he wanted it to or not.)

Some days it hit him so strongly that he could have torn even the smallest piece of that affection apart, licked up its blood from the most disgusting of charnel-house stones; he could have unhinged his jaw like the void-serpents he kept and swallowed whole the entirety of what was between them, and still felt hunger for more more more of what he had gone without for so much of his life. He even could have crawled over broken glass, after everything that had just happened, to get Brannon to show that he cared again, even in the most wary of ways. He could have carved his own leg off with his teeth if it meant that he would never be without what little positive feeling anyone had shown him ever again.

(Those who had never been there, had never felt such bitter hunger for so horrifically a long time would never be able to understand just how horribly he thirsted for it; sympathize, yes, but understand? Never.)

Even dear Maebh, who had never been Angerona and never would be and yet sort of was, drew his eye and his heart sometimes. Even Maebh, however warily, treating him with some grudging respect over the help he had given Daeyona had served to take the edge from the constant voraciousness that plagued him day in and day out.

(Maybe it always would; he had lost over two decades of his life to this, had he not?)

But as long as any of them tolerated it--Maebh, Brannon, Sorin--he would take and take and take whatever friendship they would give him, no matter how great and small. No matter how badly it pulled him into halves between his hate and his friends, he refused to give up quite so easily on this, now that the constant burning in his heart had eased if just by fractions, if just for moments.

(He would devour it just like the serpent some people (not falsely) still claimed he was at heart. He needed it, even if he had tried to deny it for so long that his spirit had atrophied into something vicious and twisted.)

But even something so vicious and twisted could get so starved that he couldn’t take it anymore, even if it meant ripping his heart between two duties, friendship and destruction, to sate it. Now, after everything? So be it.

#; writing #FFXIVwrite2019 #HOO BOY okay time to stop staring at this for ages

[javocjovian]

Two Veils To Hide My Face, SPN Bingo

Title: Two Veils To Hide My Face  Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444402/chapters/41993786 Square Filled: Scent Marking Ship: Wincest (Top Sam/Bottom Dean) Rating: Explicit AF Warnings: ABO, Sex during Heat/Rut (slight Dubcon), Mpreg scare, Coming Out Trauma/Omega-shame (with acceptance fluff at the end, I promise!) Tags: Protective Sam, Damaged/Ashamed Dean, Scenting, Scent Marking, Heat/Rut, First Times, painful first rut, comfort/healing sex, mild emotional abuse, John is forgiven, Dubcon at first, Sleep Sex/Reverse Somnophilia/Cockwarming, actual Somnophilia, Knotting, Prostate Play, Teasing, lots of Cum & Slick, Cock Milking, Multiple Orgasms, Anal Gaping, Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending! No really, this is a happy story T_T

Summary: Sam’s first rut takes everyone by surprise, and Dean goes to drastic measures to help him cope. Years later they’re back on the road looking for their dad, but being so close again has its consequences.

Word Count: 4302

Created for @spnkinkbingo Beta-ed by @just-another-busyfangirl 

Quote: Sam ravaged Dean like it was his first rut all over again. Only this time, Sam wasn’t inexperienced. His blind, greedy thrusts now had an edge of intent to them. He stroked up and down Dean’s seeping walls, stirring each and every little niche that had Dean unraveling into a horny, writhing mess on the floor. Dean had never moaned so hard in his life.

(gif credit)

Two Veils To Hide My Face

 John Winchester was so proud that his first born son was an Alpha. Even as a child, Dean was so headstrong and fearless, just like his old man. He even presented early, a sign that Dean was a fast maturing, extraordinary Alpha, just like their mother. But there was a problem with this. Dean wasn’t an Alpha.

Dean was an Omega.

The pressure from John caused a lot of stress for Dean growing up, and the overcompensation was admittedly what drove Dean into early presentation. John was out on a hunt when it happened, so once Dean was back in his right mind, he grabbed his dad’s old books on witchcraft and managed to fake his status as an Alpha via a spell. For years, Sam was the only one who knew, having been there when Dean’s first heat came.

Sam was a different story. From a young age Sam was resigned to being a Beta, based on his father’s frequent comments and backhanded insinuations. When Dean presented as an Omega instead of an Alpha as expected, the brothers made a deal. Once Sam hit puberty and didn’t present, he would help Dean keep up the charade. Except, Sam wasn’t a Beta.

Sam was an Alpha.

Sam’s first rut was catastrophic. Their father had left Dean to take care of Sammy for the week when it happened. Dean was showing signs of his upcoming heat and it triggered Sam’s first rut. Dean knew from the moment it started that Sam had taken after their mother.

Sam was a heaving, gasping, sobbing mess as the pain of Alpha puberty devastated him on the bathroom floor. Dean tried everything he could think of, but he just couldn’t handle it. There was nothing he could do for Sam and, worse, his own repressed Omega instincts were eating away at his rational mind. Dean tried looking up different spells in their dad’s old book, as he had done for himself, but found nothing that could help Sam.

A few hours of his little brother’s begging and pleading, and his failure to help him, finally broke Dean. He succumbed to his own instincts at last, and let Sam fuck him on the motel carpet.

Sam outright refused at first, but Dean knew it was out of fear: he didn’t want to hurt Dean, or get caught and unravel Dean’s charade. But this was the only way. Dean tore off Sam’s underwear, forced his wrists apart, and sank down on him, already dripping slick down his own thigh.

The shock and pleasure of it struck them both dumb for a moment before everything clicked. It was like an instant drug high. Dean was suddenly fucking himself on Sam’s cock, and Sam was groaning in satisfaction. The act fulfilled a need both internal and external to them both, and before either one of them realized what was happening Sam was pinning Dean to the floor. He ravaged Dean for hours, panting hungrily while Dean shouted in unbridled relief. Sam was soaked in feverish sweat and his older brother’s slick while his knot grew. Soon, he was filling Dean with load after load of his fertile cum.

 Afterward, Sam slept like he was dead. He’d passed out still knotted inside Dean, who jerked off a few more times, getting pleasure from being claimed by Sammy even while he slept. Dean just prayed their dad wouldn’t chose that moment to come home.

Sam’s knot deflated at some point during the night and Dean wiggled out from under him at last. He deposited Sam in his bed and continued his research, this time on how to magic yourself not pregnant before your father found out you let your Alpha younger brother breed you. He couldn’t let anyone, especially their dad, find out about what happened, yet the act filled Dean with a pleasure so potent it was almost shameful.

There were a few times throughout the night that Dean realized Sam was hard again and groaning in his sleep. Those moments Dean put his books aside and slid his lips all the way down over Sam’s pulsing cock. Sam whimpered and whined while Dean let Sam knot his throat, unwaking. The sounds Sam made as he came were almost sweet. Dean did this two more times before Sam’s rut finally seemed to subside for the night.

By morning, Dean was exhausted, in pain, and noticeably bruised, but at least he wasn’t pregnant.

 It took years for Sam to forgive himself for that night. Dean never blamed him, but he understood Sam’s pain and shame and tried to avoid the topic whenever he could. Things went back to normal. John was surprised, in fact he was thrilled, to have his little Sammy become an Alpha, not to mention proud that he’d sired not one, but two of them.

 Years passed, and it seemed the close quarters and even closer bond synced Sam and Dean’s cycles. Every couple months they spent a week frantically avoiding each other, even while they hunted together with their dad. John blamed the boys’ constant bickering on having two young Alphas cooped up on the road together, but Sam and Dean knew the truth.

It was hard enough on the day-to-day basis, but when they went into heat and rut, Dean’s scent drew Sam in unlike anything he’d ever smelled, and Dean could smell that first night on Sam’s breath whenever he spoke. Sam would catch glimpses of Dean showering or changing and Dean would see Sam’s eyes change. Meanwhile, Dean would pleasure himself while remembering how Sam pinned and fucked him all night long. How he bred him.

But after each heat and rut, things would go back to normal. Dean managed to get away from their dad every time, and the spellwork took care of the rest. Sam would help by finding ingredients and slipping them in with Dean’s things. He even scent marked him so Dean smelled more like an Alpha around their dad. Dean wasn’t sure it helped, but he appreciated the gesture too much to stop Sam. Dean found something comforting about Sam casually rubbing on him whenever they had a moment alone.

Dean kept a box under his bed with one of his shirts that Sam had scented. He hid it even from Sam. When his heat was particularly bad, he’d bury his face in the shirt. Dean didn’t know that Sam had stolen a pair of Dean’s shorts he’d promised to clean after Dean ruined it with slick. The smell wouldn’t wash out, so Sam lied and said he’d burned it.

 After a while, the boys suspected that John knew his sons weren’t both Alphas, but he never brought it up. He played along with Dean, who refused to talk about it even with Sam, and it was the first time Sam remembered feeling lucky to have John as their dad. Dean wouldn’t talk about it until after their dad died.

 Things got better after Sam went away to school. Granted, it began with a fight that would haunt the three of them for the rest of their lives, but Dean’s heats calmed down for while. He dated a few Betas and even had a fling with an Alpha girl that John never found out about. Sam even found a nice Omega girl in college.

Then their father went missing.

After four years apart, the brothers were finally back together, with impossibly more baggage than ever before.

It turned out that their cycles never fell out of sync while they were apart, even though they seemingly shared nothing in common anymore. Dean was still masking his Omega scent, but he’d stopped outwardly presenting as an Alpha to cover his Omega nature. It seemed he had enough freedom now to just disappear from their dad when his pre-heat symptoms started. Sam was managing his rut with relative ease as well, although he admitted he still struggled with control and rarely let himself indulge. But even with the improvements the brothers had made while they were separated, the next cycle they shared together after all those years proved to be just as challenging as their first.

 They had just finished hunting a vengeful spirit and were too tired to do anything but sit on the couch in their motel room at three am and watch whatever was on TV. They’d been so unusually busy that they’d abandoned their normal routines. Dean knew there was something he was forgetting, but he hadn’t had a second to himself to figure out what it was, until Sam rested his head against Dean’s.

Sam had got even taller in those four years and at first Dean thought Sam was just resting his chin on Dean’s head which was odd enough. Sam moved away after a moment, so Dean just ignored it. Then Sam put his chin back on Dean and rubbed his jaw over his short, soft hair. Dean glanced over at him and realized at once what was going on.

Sam was scenting him, just like when they were kids. Except now Sam wasn’t doing it because Dean needed to hide his own scent. Sam was flat out marking him.

Dean could see Sam’s collarbone rising and falling, just barely exposed beneath his shirt and coat. Sam wasn’t a kid anymore. He was toned and tanned, and had the body of a god - Dean had noticed it during their first hunt. Now as he sat on the couch with Sam marking him, Dean couldn’t bring himself to stop him. He liked the feeling of his brother rubbing himself on his head and shoulders, without so much as an attempt at explanation. It seemed Dean was starting his heat and Sam had given into the urge without thinking, spurred on the smell, unable to help himself. It was almost like he was grooming Dean. Dean’s breath quickened. He spotted the bulge in Sam’s pants, and Dean made his decision in an instant. He grabbed Sam’s hands and pinned him to the couch.

Sam seemed to snap out of it, but instead of clarity filling his expression, it was lust. He stared heatedly as Dean climbed onto his lap. Dean had never looked more like an Alpha, and yet he bowed his head onto Sam’s shoulder and rubbed himself against his jaw, presenting the back of his neck to him. He was succumbing to a sudden, indisputable desire to be dominated by the Alpha that claimed him all those years ago. At that, Sam just about lost his mind. The feral groan he emitted sent chills of shameless, submissive pleasure down Dean’s spine.

Sam broke out of Dean’s grip, grabbed his older brother, and pinned him to the floor just like he’d done all those years ago. Dean groaned. Sam was always the calm, rational one, which was probably why it was so damn sexy when he went into rut. He lost most of his control, going purely on instinct - it was Dean’s guiltiest pleasure.

For a minute, Sam just rubbed himself on Dean, spreading his scent all over his hair and clothes, before he started humping him through the layers and groaning into the back of Dean’s neck. Dean couldn’t take it. He was already painfully erect and there was slick dripping down his leg. In four years, no one had made Dean as wet as Sam had in that short time.

A powerful need suddenly rose in Dean and he started to fight back. He wanted Sam to consent to this, not just be driven by his Alpha brain. He needed Sam’s consent. Dean remembered what it was like when they were kids. When Sam went into his ruts, he locked himself away in his room because he was so afraid of hurting someone. Dean couldn’t let Sam feel like that again.

Dean’s struggling confused Sam giving Dean the upper hand. He wrestled Sam to the floor, slapping his face just enough to ground him. Sam sputtered and gasped, staring at Dean incredulously.

“Dean!”

“Do you really want this?”

Sam groaned. “Yes.”

“Tell me you want this, Sammy. Tell me you want my ass. Come on!”

Sam growled at him, writhing on the floor. “I want your ass… I want you filled with my seed...” It looked like his every muscle was working to not overtake Dean’s grip. “I want your slick all over me, Dean. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Their conversation was brief, but it was enough consent for Dean. Dean broke. His grip on Sam loosened and Sam took that as his cue.

They were naked on the floor in seconds. Sam was surprisingly tender with Dean, like he’d gained some modicum of control over his Alpha nature in the last few years, or he at least truly meant what he said: he wanted Dean, and he always had.

Still, Sam’s cock was even bigger than Dean remembered. If he hadn’t been starting his heat, he wasn’t sure if his body would have been able to take all of it. Dean was wet and perfectly pliable for Sam’s cock, and every inch of pain was drowned out by miles of overwhelming pleasure.

Sam ravaged Dean like it was his first rut all over again. Only this time, Sam wasn’t inexperienced. His blind, greedy thrusts now had an edge of intent to them. He stroked up and down Dean’s seeping walls, stirring each and every little niche that had Dean unraveling into a horny, writhing mess on the floor. Dean had never moaned so hard in his life. At one point, he whimpered like Sam had in his sleep when Dean first sucked him. Dean would have been mortified if anyone but Sam heard it. Dean slammed his fist on the floor, bucking back into Sam and making him curse.

Sam urged him on, groping and kissing him all over, until Dean finally felt Sam’s growing knot press between his cheeks. They groaned in unison as it pressed against Dean’s opening.

 They fucked for hours. Dean came first when Sam found his prostate and unleashed his lust on it. Dean had never cum so hard or so fast, even by his own doing. Dean’s heat kept him wet and ready after every assault, aching for everything Sam could give him. After his second orgasm, he was so stretched that, after the perfect thrust, Sam’s growing knot slipped right into him with a wet pop. They both groaned, and Sam fucked his knot into Dean’s quivering hole, trembling.

Sam was beside himself. That extra inch of his cock seemed to have the combined sensitivity of his head and shaft. It finally swelled to its full extent inside of Dean and Sam came, hard, hips pressed against Dean’s stretched hole. Dean dropped his forehead and palms onto the carpet and just moaned. Sam lost track of how many times he pulsed inside of Dean, planting his knot deep and letting it pin Dean’s ass to the floor every time. His thighs and knees were covered in Dean’s slick and his own sweat.

Dean could tell Sam was getting tired. He wanted him to pass out so that Dean could experience that rush again – the rush he now understood had been submissive pleasure. Dean never submitted to anyone. Call it years of repression or just Dean’s stubborn nature, but he was a shitty Omega.... Except with Sam. Sam was the only one he’d let treat him like an Omega and it felt so good.

Sam slowed in exhaustion and leaned down over Dean’s back, spooning him while he fucked him. He was barely pulling out at all, just pushing against Dean’s abused ass while his knot pulsed in Dean’s body. Dean felt Sam come once more, then finally still.

There was nothing but the sound of panting and gasping for a few moments. Then Dean finally spoke.

“Sleep, Sammy.”

Sam was scenting him again, lazily rubbing his jaw over Dean head and sweaty shoulders. Sam made to pull out, feeling Dean’s body resist the slowly receding knot like a plug, but Dean stopped him.

“It’s okay… just sleep,” Dean said shakily.

Sam understood. He kissed Dean’s temple and began to doze off, still inside of Dean from behind on their soaked motel carpet. Dean swallowed. He was spent. For a while he dozed too, waking with each of Sam’s little snores and stirs. His every movement roused Dean so intimately that he couldn’t help but wake. Finally, something woke Dean that was a little more rousing. Sam’s knot was swelling back up and he was humping Dean in his sleep. Dean groaned, remembering just how dead to the world Sam had been while he slept that first time. There’d be no waking him.

Urged on by what was most likely a dream of some kind, Sam thrust slowly in Dean’s ass, leaking precum and wetting his insides again. Dean’s breathing went shallow. He was erect in seconds. Call it Omega heat or whatever, but Dean could feel his channel tingling and urging Sam on, blissed out in satisfaction at being used. Sam nuzzled Dean’s neck, scenting him more. Dean groaned. Sam was claiming him in his sleep. His hand flew to his cock and he began stroking himself between his belly and the floor. Sam’s knot was full again, and Dean could feel the weight of it pressing him into the floor. He yanked his arm out of the way, and just humped the floor while Sam sleep fucked him at a teasingly uncoordinated pace. The motions of Dean’s hips aided Sam’s cock in sliding back and forth, and Sam soon orgasmed with a pleasured whine, spilling his seed deep in Dean’s plugged hole. The effort woke him and Sam slowly realized what was going on. He felt Dean rolling his hips, pinned beneath him but awake.

“’s that why you wanted to sleep like this?” Sam murmured in Dean’s ear.

Dean grinned sheepishly.

Sam planted his lips down on the back of Dean’s exposed neck and sucked, making Dean groan and buck into the carpet. Dean knew Sam wouldn’t mate him, not yet at least, but the gesture sent chills down Dean’s back. Sam angled himself so that his cock slid against Dean’s prostate, pushing down on it. Dean’s breath hitched. Sam grazed his teeth against Dean’s skin as he left hickeys on his neck, sensing that Dean liked it. Sure enough, Dean clenched around Sam’s cock, driving it unrelentingly into his pleasure spot, and Dean came right there, moaning hotly.

Once Dean had stopped trembling and cursing from his orgasm, Sam helped pick him up by the shoulders. Dean let him change positions, so that Dean was on his knees with his chest and forehead on the couch seat. Dean gave a murmur of thanks. Sam was clearly still in fuck or fight mode, but Dean was impressed by just how much he was able to control it now. Still… Dean clenched around Sam’s knot and got a surprised moan out of him.

He heard Sam’s breathless smile behind him. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.” Dean grinned, looking sideways at him.

Sam dragged his hands up Dean’s thighs and hips, earning a shiver from Dean. Then he cupped his hands over Dean’s taut stomach and dragged his nails down to his groin.

Dean bucked and bit his lips, groaning softly.

“Dean… why didn’t you tell me how much you wanted this?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean grit his teeth and Sam did it again, almost tickling down his treasure trail. Dean could feel himself full of Sam’s cum, warming him just above Sam’s hands.

“Touche,” Sam said, cupping Dean’s cock and balls with his large hands.

Dean moaned, widening his stance and sinking back on Sam’s cock. He could feel himself dripping from his cock and his hole in unison.

“Dean...” Sam started.

Something about the way he said it made Dean look back at him. “Hey… Look, I am loving this,” he prefaced. “For the love of God, you can tease me all night. Fuck.” He breathed, shuddering slightly as Sam idly fingered his slit. “But… no chick flick moments, okay? I don’t blame you for anything, and if this is something you want to do then… I’m here whenever you need me,” Dean said tersely.

Sam’s smile warmed, rubbing spurts of precum out of Dean’s cock. “Deal.”

Dean shivered. “Oh, thank God.” He flopped his head down on the couch.

Sam grinned. “You’re going to eat your words, you know,” Sam said, rubbing his fingers up and down Dean’s cock and making his whole body arch and shake.

“I’ve eaten worse.” Dean flashed him a cocky grin and stifled a whimper.

Sam almost laughed. Instead, he began to jack Dean off. Dean groaned gratefully. Within seconds, Sam was fucking him hard again. He groped and fondled him, holding Dean’s cock and stomach as if he were trying to fill him to the brim. Sam couldn’t pull out very far with his knot, but that meant his hips kept rubbing Dean’s stretched entrance with every thrust, filling Dean with eratic pleasure. Dean was a mess on the couch, arched up against Sam with his cock dribbling all over Sam’s long, stroking fingers, fisting the couch pillows on either side of his head.

They only lasted a few rounds that time. Dean came twice in Sam’s hands while he milked him before Sam’s thrusts became desperate and fast again. Sam was an animal, fucking and groaning like Dean wasn’t even there. Sam knotted him once more, then collapsed atop him, hands splayed on the couch beside Dean’s as he came. Dean gripped his wet fingers, just breathing with his brother.

 Sam’s knot shrunk a little faster that time, and Sam finally seemed to have returned to his senses. When Sam slipped out of him, Dean could feel himself gaping, Sam’s cum flowing between his knees. Sam stroked Dean’s entrance soothingly, making Dean want to just sink into the couch and sleep. He was flaccid at last, and it had never felt so good. Sam seemed to have similar ideas as Dean, because he scooped an arm around Dean’s waist to pulled him onto the only clean part of the floor left. They passed out together, holding each other close until morning.

 The next day was spent cleaning the motel room. Sam couldn’t believe he’d had a rut like that, but Dean was grinning with pride. After a greasy meal and several coffees each, they hit the road. On the way to their next case, they found it surprisingly easy to talk to one another. They laughed about dad, about their worst hunts, they even talked a bit about mom. Every conversation seemed to come back to what would surely happen if anyone took a black light to that motel room. Very little seemed to change between them, except that once every couple of months they’d take a few days off to take care of each other. That - and Dean was now on birth-control.

As they readjusted to living side by side again, they noticed little changes. Dean became a pretty good cook and didn’t use magic anymore, and Sam had somehow read the entire Stanford library. They both learned to handle their cycles differently when they were apart: Sam liked to research and prepare for each one, while Dean did absolutely nothing. In the end it was always the same: Sam was a hot mess while Dean somehow maintained a decent amount of self-control.

 Overall, not much had changed, except now Sam and Dean weren’t ashamed of needing each other. Dean told Sam about the shirt he used to keep, and Sam replied with the story of Dean’s pants. Sam knew they’d be okay when, at last, Dean let it slip over the phone with their dad that his Omega cycle was starting soon and he couldn’t start another hunt right away. Sam heard the receiver go silent before a calm voice replied “Okay, son.”

Sam hid his smile from Dean when he got back to the table and they never talked about it again.

#spnkinkbingo #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #SamWinchester #deanwinchester #wincest #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #mywriting #sarasaurusrex #archive of our own #john winchester #abo #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #alpha sam winchester #omega dean winchester #a/b/o wincest #a/b/o supernatural

[starspatter]

WIP Challenge

Tagged by: @summertime-children

Tagging: @astrologista, @atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine, @benditlikegumby, @cryptoriawebb, @ibmiller, @iceperialprincess, and @otherwise-uncolonized

Challenge: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

I'll also do what deta did and post comments + short fragments.  (Be warned it'll be very long though, and most of these are actually Pokémon fics since I was a much more prolific writer when I was younger, and that was the fandom I wrote mainly for.)  I also won't be including "Heroes and Thieves" on here (or any DC/superhero stuff really since I’ve essentially “done” everything I had planned for now), as *technically* it is all already completed in draft form, and I'd like to keep things a surprise for whenever I do end up posting~

Hero and Seek

“Well, we’re all together now, so let’s have some fun, all right?  Don’t worry, it’s really simple.  One person is the ‘demon’, and the others have to hide from him.” “Eh?  A ‘demon’?  But that’s scary!” Three pairs of eyes turned up to her in fear.  Those eyes, which screamed and streamed the stark color of blood the first time she saw them – not just from tears, but from the ‘monster’ they believed dwelled deep within.  She thought for a moment, then removed her scarf. “How about this then?  Whoever’s the ‘hero’ has to find and rescue the others.  It’s a very important Blindfold Brigade mission!”

I’ll start with the one Kagepro fic I did attempt at least, which I described previously here, but is basically about Ayano + the Meka Trio playing “Hide and Seek” for the first time.  (I actually had it originally titled as that but just came up with this new version on the spot lol I’m so clever~)  For some reason I’ve always been hesitant about reading/writing Kagefic, but I actually got a fair bit farther in this than I thought, so perhaps I should try to finish it someday... Princes and Frogs

“K-Koizumi-senpai… Um… Please go out with me!” Itsuki stared down at the tiny underclassman, watching a rose mantle spread slowly over her cheeks as she gazed back with shy, but determined hope in her bespectacled eyes.  The older boy could make out his own handsome face reflected off the lens, a virtual image embellished by sparkling hearts and stars.  With dim satisfaction and relief, Itsuki ensured that his bright, patient smile betrayed no hint of the weary sigh that whispered behind it.

This is an intro excerpt of the first chapter I planned to write for an ItsuHaru fic from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, which I only ever posted the prologue for.  ItsuHaru was my first obsessive OTP, and I still think about returning to this story someday (especially since I have now proven to myself I *can* finish a full chapter fic if I put my mind to it), but it’s been so long I feel like I’d need to refresh my memory of the whole series/am still holding out hope for a Season 3 to motivate me again. *shot*

Fall to Pieces

As Itsuki stared at Yuki’s vacant visage, his resentment kept building.  His hands clenched, rigidly gripping the edge of the table.  Somehow, it just didn’t seem fair.  That she could so easily ignore the madness fate had dealt them, never reveal any signs of suffering or bitterness towards her situation, and yet always, always wear the same damn expression on her face. How could she possibly stand it? He can’t stand it. (any more)

An ItsuYuki one-shot, where Itsuki basically blows up at her from pent-up frustration over having to wear a mask all the time and his hidden feelings for Haruhi.  The two start to form a connection over their respective “unrequited loves”/understanding of each other’s pain, and one thing leads to another...  Like “Heroes and Thieves”, this is in fact technically “complete”, since I actually used the leftover steam from the former towards finishing at least one thing I started a long time ago - although I’m still not sure I’m totally satisfied with it/kinda want to wait to figure out what I’m doing with my other ItsuHaru fics before I publish it by itself.  (Incidentally the working title comes from an Avril Lavigne song lol.)

Little White Lies

“Perhaps the best thing for the princess would have been to fall in love.  But how a princess who had no gravity could fall into anything is a difficulty--perhaps the difficulty.” -George MacDonald, The Light Princess - Haruhi Suzumiya was walking on air. Itsuki could tell by the way she glided into the clubroom, sailing like a paper airplane – or a balloon with an inflated ego to match.

...Yeah that’s as far as I got with this.  This was meant to be a “White Day” story, which is Japan’s “answer holiday” to Valentine’s Day, where guys reciprocate by giving gifts to the girls who gave them chocolates.  I always wondered how the boys actually responded in-universe, and I imagine Itsuki secretly stressing out a lot about taking care to not upstage Kyon, but at the same time wanting to sincerely express his genuine appreciation and feelings towards Haruhi - whatever they may be.  In the end, he settles on a copy of “The Light Princess” by George MacDonald, which I highly recommend reading since it reminds me so much of this pair, and in general is such a fun and snappy “tongue-in-cheek” take on the fairytale genre. Sora in Wonderland

But wait- this one was a bit different from all its brothers and sisters.  For one thing, it was wearing a fancy waistcoat with pockets- and sleeves that were far too long for it.  As soon as it passed by her head, it stopped and slowly turned its head around to stare directly at her with its huge circular yellow eyes.  Sora stared vacantly back for a full five seconds before the information registered in her brain and she suddenly yelled, “Hey!”, and sat bolt upright.  The Heartless panicked upon hearing her voice and fled at top speed across the white sands, headed towards an opening in the rocks; Sora jumped down off her perch and immediately chased after it, no longer caring about the heat.  The Heartless hastily disappeared inside the cave, and Sora soon followed after, determined to catch the freaky little thing and ask it some questions, like what it was doing on the island at this time, and where on earth did it get a waistcoat.

OKAY SO I TOTALLY FORGOT THIS WAS A THING but apparently I tried to write a Kingdom Hearts parody of “Alice in Wonderland” lmao.  I’ve never actually played the games (aside from half of CoM), but it was probably inspired by a crossover art my friend drew? ^^; Also Sora is a girl in this bc that’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it. XP *shot* Note: The following fics are all Pokémon-related so I’ll just be listing them in roughly chronological order (from most recent to ancient, although they’re all pretty old at this point). Stranger

The elder slowly rose to his feet, gazing at the boy, the champion, the stranger.  “In all this time, why didn’t you come back?  You could have seen for yourself how she was.” Lance wanted to yell something defiant, like a child.  But he wasn’t a child.  Children were forgiven for their mistakes.  And he didn’t want to be forgiven. The professor’s ancient hand came to rest on the boy’s shoulder.  “It’s the way this town works.  We don’t talk about things that happen outside our own world.  Maybe it was too long ago – too late for you to understand.” Lance didn’t say anything. “At least talk to Delia.  She’s been wanting to see you.” “Sorry.  It’s too late.” “You’re a bastard.” “I know.”

So this looks to be among the last things I’d written before taking a long break from fanfiction circa... 2007, jeeze.  Over 10 years, huh.  But, I think it speaks a certain amount of maturity that it’s the piece I liked most upon rediscovering.  It’s based on an idea I once had that Lance was (unknowingly) Gary Oak’s father, and he was friends/rivals with Ash’s father, who originally won the title of Champion but relinquished it so he could be with his “wife” and kid (or rather, then-pregnant teenage girlfriend).  *Something* happened though (I forget what I had in mind) and he ended up dying, leaving Lance bitter and depressed so he refused to return to Pallet Town because of too many painful memories.  (Though he *cough* “comforted” their other female childhood friend for one night of drunken grief before he left. ;()  What I like most about it honestly is the parallels bw Lance’s relationship with Ash’s dad and their sons’, and that amidst all the angst I enjoyed portraying the earnest energy and optimism of Ketchum(?) senior (”like father like son” after all).  I was definitely inspired by Mitsuki’s father in Full Moon wo Sagashite/Maes Hughes from Fullmetal Alchemist by making him a total “dork dad” who’d brag about his (illegitimate) family on national TV during the championship tournament lol.

Ihavenoidea

Either way, I get the feeling this really wasn’t what I had in mind when I made my decision to quit training.  I mean that in an intuitive sort of way.  Like, sometimes I feel as if I’m not meant to be here, like my life should have ended up differently someplace else.  Perhaps this is just one of those weird inconsistencies I told you about.  Perhaps not.  Even after all that’s happened to me recently, I still can’t really be sure about it.

...No seriously, I have no idea where I was going with this.  As far as I can tell it’s written from the POV of Gary Oak, whom I’ve always had a lot of... “complicated” feelings towards.  It probably has something to do with another concept I’ll discuss next, although for some reason it sounds like I was going for some sort of AU? *shrug* By contrast to the above, it reads like a whiny teenager complaining about his life - which makes me cringe but is probably an accurate portrayal of who I was at the time. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This one was actually dated a little after the previous, so my best guess is it was some kind of vent rant where I would “give up” writing/creating and “childish” ideals for a while, as I was wont to do - but I still always come back to it somehow... RainbowMolly

Molly stepped out from the car and onto the dusty road, her heart beating wildly.  She could hardly believe she was actually here, of all places. The ride had been long and mind-numbing with anticipation, and now that they’d finally arrived at the destination, it all felt somewhat surreal to her. A small bear clambered out from the vehicle, joining her as she stopped to take in the rustic view that met her bright blue eyes.  She smiled and picked up her Teddiursa, cuddling its warm, fuzzy body close to her own. Her gaze traveled down the road which stretched in both directions, houses lining up against its margins. She followed it with her eyes towards a hill in the distance, on top of which sat what looked like a quaint little farmhouse with a windmill, turning in the summer breeze.  She breathed in the country air, catching whiff of a faint salt smell from an ocean in the distance. So this was Pallet Town.

...Why I didn’t actually name the file “Chasing Rainbows” - which was the title I had planned for this - I don’t know.  This dates back to an old idea I had where I believed Molly Hale from the third Pokémon movie was secretly the true “God” of the Pokémon world - in the sense that the entire universe was an unknowing fantasy of her own creation, similar to Haruhi Suzumiya (ok fine this was totally a crossover/rip-off of the same concept so sue me OTL).  In a place where children never seem to grow up and can go on grand fantastical adventures forever, Gary always struck me as an anomaly who willingly *chose* to forego such a life to pursue more “adult” interests by becoming a researcher.  So I saw him as filling the role of “Kyon” - the cynical narrator who was destined to ground “God” and bring her back down to earth, but at the same time be won over by her innocence and charm and learn to appreciate “kids’ stuff” again.  However, the Legendaries were actually aware of the power Molly holds, and so saw Gary as a threat to their very being - as by “waking” the dreamer and having her face reality meant erasing their kinds’ entire existence.  As the “apocalypse” nearly occurred in the third film, Mew and Celebi took on human disguises (in the form of May and Max respectively) to investigate Ash, who was able to calm Molly and “save” the world by “perpetuating” the delusion (and whom Molly totally has a crush on btw *shot*).  So it’s a bit of a love triangle lol, with Mew and Celebi (*cough* an alien and a time traveler, get it? *shot*) acting as mediators/interference.  (Although Mew might’ve secretly shipped Gary and Molly herself. ;O)

Betrayal

And these blades, these damned scythes that attached themselves to my arms when I was born, a curse upon me since birth, though it had not been apparent up until now.  They were covered with blood, the vital crimson liquid that flows through our bodies, now dripping down the steel surface in a webbed pattern, drops beginning to splatter the pure, emerald grass below.  The arm felt heavy and weak as I tried to lift it, as if it did not belong to me, but that was only a wishful thought.  I gazed calmly at it, inspecting the intricate designs the flow of the substance had created, as if it were an abstract piece of artwork. Tentatively, a pink tongue rolled out and caught a small droplet of it just before it fell from the sharp edge, just to convince myself that it was real.  The semi-sweet, metallic taste confirmed this.  I had indeed taken these men’s lives, just as I had taken hers.

So I remember this was written from the POV of a Scyther who seemingly went on a murderous rampage.  I only know that I wanted to give him an “Edward Scissorhands”-like story, since the idea of having such sharp objects attached to one’s limbs so that one could never directly “touch” another without being a danger is pretty tragic.  I suspect “her” was someone (a human?) he cared about but killed by accident, and after that he was only seen as a symbol of power/treated as a tool to incite fear before eventually rebelling against his “master”... Roses

“If you love someone, you should give them something that’s yours. That shows how much you care for them.” In the darkness, I pictured his smiling face, explaining to me as he wrapped a present for his girlfriend. His blue eyes were shining with a sort of spirit unfamiliar to me; I guessed, a feeling of love.

Another “dark” take on a Pokémon’s biology (I really liked writing explorations of those back then lol), this time of Roselia.  The idea was that a Roselia was so in love with her trainer that she would do anything for him - including allow him to cut off her arms so he could give them to his girlfriend.  I actually ended up turning it into a poem at one point:

Love is like a rose they say, And affection leads to grief they warned. For in the end love betrays, Its Beauty maimed by a poisoned thorn. You gave me pure water with a smile. Your cheerful face became my sun. I offered up my blood to you, And in return demanded none. Chop off my wrists, and tie them together. I’ll gladly bleed myself to death. In order to give you that which I hold most dear. My dear, my dear, Won’t you accept this bouquet? You take it, smiling warily. A blush creeps onto your face. And in those eyes I can see A garden of roses stretched out, Composing a wondrous place. Then you bound my hands in lace, And brought them to the girl next door. You presented them to her with grace. … My blood continued to pour.

Fanfic

She smiled at me, although something about her expression indicated something wasn't quite right.  I watched as she glanced over towards the west, her gaze lingering momentarily on the setting sun.  The glowing, orange sphere was slowly sinking behind the distant mountains, peaks cloaked in a pale, lavender haze illuminated by flickering beams of gold and scarlet cast across the horizon.

More accurately, I found this buried in a “catch-all” file where I had several (mostly finished) fics saved.  This was meant to be from the POV of an Eevee who had just evolved - supposedly into an Espeon due to happiness and bond with her trainer, which is what both wanted.  However, since it took place at sunset, she didn’t realize she had become an Umbreon instead, and her trainer ended up abandoning her for it. ;( It was a warm

Children’s shrieks and laughter echoed across the park as they flocked towards each other, and soon were chasing one another round the playground, weaving in and out between the swings as they partook in an innocent game of Tag.  One child was It; she was trying desperately to catch one of her friends so that they would take over the job instead.  Then it would be her turn to run away, for none of them wished to play the loathsome role of It.  Or was it because they feared being tainted by the person’s touch?  It must have been one of the two, for while she would struggle to reach them, catch hold of them, they would only flee, thoroughly enjoying the fact that they were vexing her.  Twice she nearly caught one.  Her fingertips were almost within reach of one of the other girls’ dresses, whose russet tresses were flowing wildly from the rush of movement and shining with golden highlights as the rays of the sun struck individual strands.  The target shrieked and shook her head, whisking her skirt free in time to escape capture, laughing with glee at the sight of the girl left behind, miserable and alone. 

Yeah I totally just went with the default beginning of the first sentence lol.  I guess this comes full circle with the first Kagepro fic I mentioned (although I’m not even sure I was aware back then that the Japanese version of the game literally called “It” a “demon”, which is even more fitting).  I believe this was part of a Pokémon series I was writing involving a creepy little girl and Mewtwo who would bring about the end of the world or something like that, but generally I guess I was just going for a “Catcher in the Rye” feel. *shrug* Golden Lights

The pale, rosy fingers of dawn were filtering in through the Granite Cave entrance, basking a small area near the opening in pinkish illumination.  Just out of reach of its expanse sat little Mika, huddled in the gloom of the shadows, watching the light creep steadily towards her as the glowing ball of fire rose slowly towards the East.  She knew about the Light that came from Outside.  There were plenty other small apertures broken into the cavern walls and ceiling that allowed some thin streams of gold brilliance to trickle through.  She had always done well to avoid them.  The brightness was like poison to her skin.  But they weren’t the Lights she’d had described to her by the old Crobat that always resided now deeper within the underground chambers, dozing now, most likely.  He wouldn’t awaken until night came round, and she did not wish to rouse him and perhaps disturb him from a pleasant dream.  She was very wise about things like that, being the young child that she was.  Still, she would have liked to hear a story to comfort her just then.

Last one I could find, about a Sableye who, like Icarus, literally “flew too close to the sun”.  In this interpretation I imagined that Sableye were creatures who could not stand sunlight at all, as it would cause their skin to burn.  But Mika (pronounced like “Mica”) always dreamed of going outside to see the “Light” anyway.  She was eventually tempted by Mew to leave the cavern under her angelic PROTECTion and step into the Light, who was acting as Ho-Oh’s messenger to “recruit” souls to “live eternal as an element of Ho-Oh’s Guarding Flame“, as the PROTECT faded and a “holy fire” began to spread.  I guess I was going for a Biblical/”Rapture”-esque reference.  (...Man I sure was obsessed with the endtimes as a kid. *shot*)

#Kagerou Project #Tateyama Ayano #Mekakushi Trio #Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu #ItsuHaru #ItsuYuki #Pokemon #Gary Oak #Molly Hale #fanfiction #starstories #astrologista #atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine #benditlikegumby #cryptoriawebb #ibmiller #iceperialprincess #otherwise uncolonized

[heir-of-snakes]

The House Cup

The link is here for AO3.

Pairing: Tomarry

Tags: Fluff, Competetive boys, Pouting Tom, Jealous Tom, passively Jealous Harry

Word Count: 1,547

Warnings: Language, Light slash (implications kissing, but nothing more)

Summary: In which points are earned and secrets and kept (then shattered).

A/N: This isn’t edited, but I hope you enjoy. Not sure if I expanded enough on the “supportive” aspect, but thank you for the ask, nonetheless.

And so it begins.

“Fifty points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter!” 

Tom bitterly shook his head at the overtly excited Transfiguration professor who, in his opinion, gave her favorite Golden Boy too many points for the most basic Qudditch maneuvers and during practice, no less. At times it seemed as though she knew of the wager and did everything in her power to prolong his imminent victory.

Reflective over the points he’d gained already for academic excellence, he realized that with that point gain, Potter wasn’t too far behind him.

Unacceptable.

Their first week, he’d gained a record amount of 250 points from his outstanding Potions, Transfiguration, and Herbology essays. The following week, he’d gained a solid 175. The week after that, 200. To any intelligent being, he’d be the clear winner, but Potter had his idiotic fallback.

Quidditch.

Every match he caught the snitch. Every match he gained an obscene amount of points for his obnoxious house. Every match, he came to Tom smiling smugly.

Looking up from his position in the Gryffindor stands, not far down from McGonagall, Tom noticed the elated look that adorned Harry Potter’s face and paused.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely opposed to those points being awarded.

Long after the flyers landed, the students had lied down, and the teachers stopped patrolling, two figures convened in a hidden chamber that housed a monster they’d deemed their joint pet. (Although it was agreed that Tom was the primary owner. He was the Heir of Slytherin, after all.)

“How many have you gotten today?” Harry, opening a chocolate frog, asked with a sly grin. “I noticed that you got yet another ‘O’ on your Potions essay. Congratulations!” His eyes lit up with excitement, and Tom willed his heart to slow down.

“235,” he answered irritably. “McGonagall was holding out on me. My essay was flawless and my practical exam hadn’t a fault to be seen. How about yourself? I saw your dive on the practice field today. You looked stunning. I’ll admit, you deserved those points from her. Although,” He turned to look at Harry. “I’m starting to believe you’ve told her about our challenge. It would certainly explain why she gives you points for merely breathing.”

The incident Tom was referring to occurred just after Harry had fallen from the sky in yet another crazy stunt on his broom. So overcome with relief that he was still alive, McGonagall gave the boy 100 points. Tom wouldn’t admit it to anyone, even himself, but he had secretly died- if only a little- seeing the younger of the two flailing about in the air.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I think I’ve gotten 190, and only you would have a problem with me breathing.” His eyes, which had previously been focused on his Dumbledore card, rose to meet Tom’s. “And you haven’t much room to talk. You abuse your prefect powers and take points away from me for existing. And do you recall Slughorn giving you 75 points for taking notes during a lecture, love?”

He only received a small snort as an answer to his question.

“Using terms of endearment won’t work on me, darling.” Tom’s statement was met with a sheepish smile from Harry that he adored.

It had been only fitting that he lean forward and show just how much adoration he felt.

The following morning, an exclamation of disbelief could be heard throughout the castle as a raven-haired young man noticed the point differentiation between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Slytherin was more than three-hundred points ahead.

Harry was going to kill Tom.

Whipping around, he made his way towards the Slytherin table and stood behind the unaware snake. Tom, sipping his tea and casually flipping through a potions journal, only noticed Harry’s presence when Abraxas Malfoy softly cleared his throat.

Turning around, he looked up to meet Harry’s eye.

“Is there something you needed, Potter?” The answer he got wasn’t one he was prepared for.

A resounding slap rang throughout the hall. Tom’s head jolted to the side and he instinctively raised a hand to cup the abused cheek. Any Slytherin mask previously set in place was gone. Abruptly standing, he loomed over Harry’s smaller frame and snarled, “What the bloody hell was that for, Potter? Have you lost your damned mind?”

The professors at the head table drew their wands, ready to stop an impromptu duel at any given moment, Slughorn moving to stop his student from retaliating before Dumbledore but a gentle, but firm, hand on his arm to stop him. The student body was still and stiff. No one blinked from fear of missing the result of the hatred that they all believed to be between the two men.

“You cheated, you slimy snake!” Harry yelled, not intimidated by Tom’s anger in the slightest. “There’s no way you gained three hundred points fairly over the course of last night.”

The look of confusion that Tom had taken on during Harry’s initial statement melted away into one of understanding as Harry elaborated on his cause of anger.

However, he only stared. Eyes hardened and posture perfect, he stared at the emerald-eyed, impulsive man in front of him. Harry, feeling less certain of himself than before, called on his bravery to remain strong.

“Abraxas,” Tom’s deep and cutting voice echoed in the silence. “What did we do last night when I returned to the common room?”

Abraxas nearly dropped his tea at being addressed so suddenly. Stuttering over his words, he took a calming breath before his face cooled into the mask of pureblood excellence. “We completed revisions with Severus for our variation of the Wolfsbane Potion.”

Harry’s eyes widened, realizing why Tom had taken up the project in the first place, but Tom wasn’t done. The four house tables that had no idea what was transpiring before themselves prepared themselves for the storm that was Tom Riddle’s anger.

“Correct. And what does this one do, exactly?”

Severus chimed in with his textbook explanation. “Our new potion makes not only the transformation from human to wolf smoother and less painful with agents soothing nerve damage, muscle straining, and joint stress, it also makes the time leading up to and following the transformation much more bearable. It will undoubtedly add several years to the perpetually faltering lifespan of werewolves.”

Harry’s heart soared at the prospect of having Remus around longer than he would have before it dropped after realizing the dreadful thing he’d done.

His eyes still on Harry, Tom replied, “Thank you. And after we’d shown our research to Slughorn, what did he do?”

“He awarded you, Severus, and myself one hundred points each.” Abraxas, still confused and completely ignorant to the cause of such a display, continued, “He also said that depending on the success of the potion, we’d gain more later on.”

Harry was now staring at his feet, refusing to look into the agitated eyes. He felt awful, and knowing that Tom had only chosen that potion because of Remus made him feel infinitely worse.

He felt Tom’s hand on his chin and allowed it to elevate his head. Tom stared into his eyes a moment before speaking clearly for the students and professors to hear. “One day, your impulsivity is going to get you into a lot of trouble, love.”

McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged bewildered glances and mouthed “Did he just call Potter ‘love’?” to one another.

“Tom,” Harry frantically whispered, “what are you doing?”

Tom closed his eyes for a moment before a feral grin embellished his features. “You owe me, now. You just slapped me in front of everyone and openly accused me of cheating. That really does some damage to one’s public image which you know is very important to me.”

Harry sighed frustratedly. “Fine,” he deadpanned. “What do you want?”

Tom leaned forward slowly, placing his lips near Harry’s left ear. “I want the secrets to end and the advances to stop.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. They’d talked about this before, and he knew how much it bothered Tom that everyone wanted a piece of the Gryffindor Quidditch Star. And frankly, it annoyed Harry that everyone wanted a go at the Mysterious Slytherin Genius.

Meanwhile, the other occupants of the Great Hall were now unbearably out of the loop and a tad weirded out.

Harry let out a slow breath before confidently meeting Tom’s eyes once more. “Do what you must, I suppose.”

With a rare, genuine smile, Tom moved his hand from Harry’s chin and moved it to the back of his head. His other hand went down to the small of the Gryffindor’s back.

A small “Thank you.” was whispered before the secret was shattered.

They weren’t so worried about the advances anymore. Harry held the title of Second-Best Dueler of Hogwarts, bested only by Tom Riddle himself.

#tomarry #tomarry fanfic #tomarry fanfiction #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #fluff #slytherin #gryffindor #slytherdor #basilisk #mentions of kissing #secret relationship #tomarry secret relationship #coming out #secret couple #established relationship #tom riddle #harry potter #tom and harry #one shot #jealous tom #jealous harry #tom x harry #salazar slytherin #incorrect quotes #hogwarts #hogwarts houses #house cup

[junioradventure]

A Month Into Teaching English in Korea: an Update

So, it’s roughly been a month since I’ve been teaching at my hagwon. I can’t believe that a month passed already! I wanted to post an update about how things have been. I’ve had my fair share of struggles, so stay tuned hahaha.

First of all, the curriculum we have to teach is really not that hard to adjust to. Since our school provides us with the materials, prep time is not too bad. It’s mostly printing out the students’ weekly homework reports (depends on the class), worksheets, and downloading audio files. Each class, I have to cover a unit in the textbook. It’s quite straightforward.

The problem mostly lies in the fact that a great deal of the material can be so bland... Which contributes to a lot of the lack of interest during class LOL. And it doesn’t help that the classes are only 40-50 minutes along, so there isn’t really a lot of time to fit in additional material that I might be able to do to boost interest in class. It’s a difficult situation, but it’s mostly something that I have to just accept, unless I have the time to try and fit in my own ideas for class.

Which leads me to some other issues I found during my first month of teaching. Although I really do like teaching some classes in particular, there are others that are more difficult because there are either a. sleepy students (some kids have fallen asleep in class, and they said it’s because they’re really tired) b. really quiet students, or c. really loud, disruptive, and wild students. Mind you, this is my first time teaching an actual class, so even though these kinds of students are pretty typical in any given classroom, it’s shocking when you actually experience having to teach them LOL. 

For the sleepy students, I really feel for them, they come here after their actual school, and then sometimes have to leave really late (9-10pm for middle schoolers!) and then they have to go home to do homework due the next day. I know the education system in Korea is no joke. It just feels really discouraging when there are those few that doze off in class. I know not to take it personally, but I still kind of do since I have to wake them up and encourage them to push through the material LOL. Thankfully, I only experienced this with two students. One of them stopped dozing off in class but has now turned into a really loud, disruptive, and wild student... The other is just constantly sleepy, but he’s really smart and can do the work in class easily. He just nods off quickly. I’m thinking of ways to make the class more active, but there’s only so much we can do since we have to get through the book material. Thankfully, this problem isn’t too huge.

As for the quieter students. I have this one class in particular where I ask questions and I am met with awkward silence *cues Stray Kids’ ‘Awkward Silence’* and they don’t really participate much. 

Me trying to be enthusiastic in class but the kids hit me with the ol’ silent treatment... *awkward smiles*

The first time I experienced this, I was so drained after. This really begs the question, which is worse, a class full of rowdy, crazy students, or a class where getting them to participate is like pulling teeth? Truth be told though, I don’t know much about this class, so maybe I should think more about what I can do. I’m sure they’re mostly, if not all introverts too, so that’s also a factor to keep in mind. It’s not a bad thing, just a different perspective!

And the crazy, loud ones... sigh. Although they do put a smile on my face, sometimes it’s just too much and it’s really mentally exhausting dealing with them. It doesn’t help that the kids don’t really see the foreign teacher as having a lot of authority in class, and that discipline is also not really a thing for us to carry out. I’ve found going to the Korean teachers for the appropriate advice and measures helps a lot. They got my back, which is such a relief. I’ve learned to be a bit firmer now since I started off really compassionate about their behavior, and I felt “too nice” too, until my coworker told me for certain wild ones, being firm and strict is necessary. Sound advice, and will continue to do so, but I’m still gonna be sweet when I can LOL.

However, I do like getting to know my students better, and sharing jokes and fun conversations in class! For example, a few students like Pokemon so I drew some on the white board for fun, and they were so hyped lol. One of them brought their switch to class to show me their Let’s go Pikachu team and I was like “OMG DON’T BRING IT TO SCHOOL THAT’S DANGEROUS, SOMEONE MIGHT TAKE IT” Lol. Oh wait, Koreans don’t steal. Never mind. HAHA. Also, some of my students are realizing that I like kpop too. One of them was really shook because I knew BTS’ “You Never Walk Alone” album title when they made a pun about it in class LOL. She was like, “Are you an ARMY?” with a shocked face HAHA. I’ll be able to chat with them about it as we progress through the semester, so that’s a fun way to bond with them~

How my students look and act some classes.

But overall, my job is not super stressful or horrible. I do have my share of stressors, but it’s still a job nonetheless! I am still getting into the routine of each teaching day, printing worksheets, posting homework, writing detention lists, submitting my daily reports, and extra assignments that come up. I had a hard time yesterday because I totally forgot about extra essays I had to give in class. It didn’t help that I was feeling under the weather and pretty bad about it, but that was a blow to me and I felt so overwhelmed. It’s taught me another lesson in stress management. I’m still not the best at letting things go and pass so that I can stop stressing about it, but I was thankful for my coworkers telling me that it will be okay, and I can just adjust the schedule next week to get the essays done in class! I know it will be fine, everything works out eventually!

Furthermore, especially for the real young ones, I don’t feel like just a teacher. I feel like a babysitter caretaker. I teach one class of first and second graders, and a lot of them just started attending this semester. They can get rambunctious, but they’re literal kids so it’s understandable! It does tire me out sometimes though, when I have to constantly tell them to finish their book work. I’m learning that I have to be there emotionally for them as well, when no one else can. 

Yesterday, one particular student who is easily the rowdiest kid in my class was feeling down. They started off class per usual, going up to me, hanging on me, and treating my tummy like their own personal pillow. He literally calls me his cushion... I think it’s kinda adorable in a way, and he is LOL. Anyway, not even halfway through class, he stopped doing his work and put his head down. The other kids were hooting and getting all bouncy because of it, and at first I didn’t think too much of it. One kid said he was faking. I continued class, but as time went by, he didn’t bounce back like how he usually does. I went up to him and asked him, in a calm and kind voice, “What’s wrong?” in English. He refused to look at me. 

Oh yeah, so my school has an “Only English” policy for foreign teacher classes. Which, in theory, makes a lot of sense. A ton of kids, ESPECIALLY these youngins, keep trying to make me speak Korean, or “find out” if I can, which I have to play coy about. But in situations like this, where emotional support is also something a teacher could provide, and asking him, “Why?” and, “What?” in English wasn’t helping, I asked him in Korean, “What happened?” He eventually murmured, “Something sad happened to me.” I asked him if we wanted to talk about it, but he said no. I also asked him if any of his classmates made him sad, or if I upset him (since I did tell him sternly to behave prior), but he said no again. Thankfully, it was already the end of class, and I told him to cheer up and enjoy the weekend. He nodded cutely, and seemed visibly better, and dare I say appreciative that I checked up personally on him.

It broke my heart to see him so gloomy about something I didn’t know about, but I genuinely hope the weekend gives him a lot of rest and fun with his family. Knowing him, he will bounce back and be as playful and rowdy as usual again. But it taught me another lesson.

Anyways, that’s all I can think of at the moment. This post got really long too, LOL. I’ll write down things whenever something else important happens in class! I know I’ll continue to learn from these experiences!

#korea #teachingabroad #hagwon #experience #update #teacher #learningprocess

[mobscene-london]

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Revati Sharma. AGE: 33. PLACE OF BIRTH: Birmingham, United Kingdom. AFFILIATION: Neutral. The Rutherford Family (former)  OCCUPATION: Bar Owner. Assassin (former)   FACE CLAIM: Deepika Padukone. AVAILABILITY: TAKEN.

      BIOGRAPHY:

Revati had grown up in an area of Birmingham of which ‘rough’ was far too kind a word for. Those she called friends were only company due to a lack of other options, not because they cared about her. Most were the kind of people that it was safer to appease than disappoint, and so the easily influenced teenager often did what they asked without question. It was better to have even them than be alone.

Killing a man was different, though.

They’d all been a bunch of half-arsed gangsters—they thought they had to be to survive—but committing murder seemed a stretch, even by their standards. Especially when they were expecting her to do it for them…

Even when she was young, she had the kind of personality that drew people to her; the smile that could light up a room, her most famous trait of all. In a neighbourhood that was notoriously unkind, she was the exception, and nobody could quite figure out why. That was why they used her the way they did. Revati distracted shopkeepers who thought she was far too kind and innocent to do anything wrong, whilst her friends lined their pockets with whatever they could get their hands on. She was the only one that could sweet talk parents into thinking they were behaving, and so they made her. She was also the only one who could get close to creeps, and slip God only knows what into their drinks.

“He likes young girls,” they told her, and she believed them. “So, let him take you home, and then make sure this goes in his vodka.”

And that was what separated her from the rest of the people who shared her chosen ‘profession’.

Revati couldn’t just murder for the sake of it; although given her previous financial position, she didn’t really have much choice in passing up the kind of money people offered as her reputation grew. She would only take a life if she knew the person had done wrong. Hurt innocent people in some way. It made it easy. Like she was helping, even if deep down she knew that she was going about it in the wrong way. Whilst it often clashed with the ideals of those who sought to employ her, she didn’t care, because as far as she was concerned, they could always find someone else. She did not work for anyone’s ego.

Accidental overdose was her MO, and the people that she was tasked to dispose of were usually so shady, it wasn’t suspicious. But, when it was, no one would have ever suspected her. That was the beauty of it all. Revati was as meticulous with her clean-up as she was the least likely personality to be involved with such crimes.

Naturally, it didn’t take long for people to take notice of the services she’d been offering. And when the Rutherfords heard about the charming young lady who could lure just about any man to his death, their operation in Birmingham scooped her up, pushed her onto a plane, and offered her the opportunity of a lifetime. Porto Velho. America.

Working under Adrian had proved to be as much a pleasure as it was a relief, but it didn’t dismiss the frank reality that The Rutherfords were analogous to the very people she would have ordinarily agreed to assassinate—cozying up to them seemed hypocritical enough to warrant a second thought. She had never known money; especially not the kind she’d been exposed to in their presence. Even when she had taken cash for her services back home in England, it was only ever small amounts.

In PV they’d tried to tempt her away from her one golden rule: bad people only.

She refused to be bought.

Whilst working for Adrian had been a huge part of her role in PV, it was absolutely not the only thing she’d focused on.

Bartending, gaining business experience, building a resume; making herself look better on paper. It had mattered. Though her Rutherford associates would joke about her being part-time, it was clear to Revati that she didn’t want to commit murder for the rest of her life. It was through a pursuit of normality, working an ordinary job, that she found hope in a future beyond that which she had always been—a criminal. Her time at The Empire would eternally be significant to her despite how poorly her years in America came to an end.

Her parents weren’t wrong in calling their beta a fool. Having feelings for a best friend was testy, but it was another form of idiocy to have them for Lara Rutherford’s man. Despite years of attempting to move on from her fondness—including a genuine try after his engagement—when the wedding of the century became a public failure, and the blow too heavy to bear for her best friend, Revati embarrassed even herself. When Amir escaped the pain in America for England, she followed. She reasoned that it was a long time coming; that she didn’t want to become the ‘French killer’ Adrian had trained her to be. That her partner would understand. That her time as an assassin was over. That money was too corrupting.

Fair excuses but excuses all the same.

In the naivety freedom, she returned to her home country having said little-to-no goodbyes. Ignorant of very real information against her person that exists, Revati’s homecoming was immediately tamed by her family’s remarks on her pride. Despite her role as a consoling best friend, she instantly started working on her own business; an achievement that couldn’t be taken away from her. Pursuing that which she knew, grateful to have insanely wealthy acquaintances since her time in PV, she opened a bar in prime London real estate.

Ironic to her personal views, The Spin Room, is for the politically inclined. It’s a common stop for politicians in London, obliging the long time criminal to converse with MPs on the daily. As a Brummie, especially as a once-poor British-Indian one, she can’t refute that her opinion on the government has always been negative. Her keen position on taking their money, versus the publics, continues to waver though as she interacts with them more often.

Supporting them silently might be her only hope as her nightmare has reappeared—the Rutherfords. With the criminal underworld back in London, Revati is appallingly aware that her history will do her no favors as her city is consumed by a shadow of corruption and death. She worries about the people most important to her, and herself, because she knows that she’ll jump back into the fray if it means keeping them safe.

At the end of the day, she understands, there really is no escaping the mob scene.   

    SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Amir Dawar (boyfriend) Dev Daryani (ex-boyfriend) FAMILY: Neel, Saffi, Mitali Ghale (cousins), Leela Sharma (mother, unplayable), Ajay Sharma (father, unplayable) CONNECTIONS:

Delphine St. Clair: Lambeth Commandant. One would be an utter moron to miff a literal St. Clair, so it’s more than fair to say Revati isn’t looking to bother, but Lambeth was her home. It was no secret that the constituency is riddled with crime, but she isn’t keen on seeing it worsen with the French touch.

Tory MPs Silas Agreste, Cassandra Acton, and Spencer Berkeley: Patrons. Considering Revati could choke the Birmingham Labour MPs for their incompetence in her hometown, she’s inclined to think the Tories have backbone. Like the invisible hand of the government, feeding their quality of life as citizens, she might find it in herself to give them things to ‘drink’ on.

Adrian Castillo: Former boss. In spite of being a chilling member of the Rutherford Family faction, time with Adrian had been a gift. What regrets she has about not communicating her leave with him are gone with the wind over the stress of having him and his assassins in the city. She doesn’t want Adrian as an enemy, but he might be after everything that has happened. 

#taken #takenf #neutral #revatisharma #deepika padukone