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camaro-and-smokes · 3 months

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Get Out of My Dreams, Get into My Car

Chapter 2: (s)He Works Hard for the Money

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Warnings, tags etc: No warnings, just fluff. Light angst in this chapter, mentions of a breakup.

Chapter summary: Billy finds a note of someone looking for a place to stay at Mandy's notice board.

:::::::::::

On early Monday morning, Billy was leaning under the hood of the Camaro at work.

"Morning, Billy!" Mark, his co-worker, called out.

"Morning," he replied, annoyed, trying to find the problem the car had this time before he’d had to start working on paying customers’ cars. The Camaro was old and while it was easy getting parts for it, he’d either have to fully restore it at some point or just get rid of it. Even though he loved it the damn thing broke down all the time. Right now, though, he needed a car and he sure as hell didn't have any money for a new one.

"Hey, you hitting the waves later today?" Mark asked, leaning against the car.

"Nope," Billy grunted. I wish, he thought. "Got a class in the evening."

Mark hung around for a while before their boss called him to take a look at another car and Billy could finally concentrate on finding the fault. Not too soon after he figured it out. It was the carburetor, just as he’d been afraid.

Billy sighed, deflated. Thankfully, he would get a spare part quickly and he could change it at the shop after work, but it would still take a few days for it to arrive.

He'd have to borrow the shop's van, even if it meant that he'd be the designated delivery boy for the time being. Even if the garage and the studio were both within walking distance from his place, he needed wheels to get him from place A to place B quickly because of the timetables.

---

After work, Billy stopped by at Mandy's before hitting the studio to get a smoothie and hear the neighborhood gossip. When Billy was almost out the door with his drink, his eyes stopped on a note on the notice board by the door and he backed up to read it. Someone was looking for a place to stay.

'Seeking room/roommate. Quiet, responsible professional. Call Holiday Inn, ask for S--- H---,'

The note itself was written in a neat handwriting, but the note was signed rather than telling who left it. Of the names Billy could tell only the first letter. “Hey, Mandy? Do you know who left this?” he asked, looking at her and pointing at the note.

She squinted from behind the counter, trying to see which note of several Billy meant. “The... rent thing? Oh, yes,” she said, a sly smile spreading across her face. “He usually comes by in the morning, maybe on his way to work. Tall, brown hair, always a nice suit on. I think he’s a businessman of some sort,” she said. “Seemed nice. Really good looking too,” she continued, winking.

Billy rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you. I’m out of the dating pool for a while. I’m looking for a roommate, not someone to break my heart again.” He looked back at the note and tried to read the name. “Do you know what’s his name? Can't make anything out of his scribbling.”

“No, sorry. But he stays at the Inn around the corner. Maybe the staff recognizes him? Or if he comes over, I can tell him you have a room available and ask his name.”

Billy took the note and put it in his pocket. “That's okay, I’ll take the note. If I can’t reach him, you can ask him his name.”

“Sure thing!” Mandy shouted after him.

Billy wouldn’t be selective if the guy was what he advertised in the ad. Because at this point a roommate was no longer optional but also urgent.

Money from the garage was good and the few lessons at the aerobics studio were a great addition to that. If he'd lived anywhere else, he would’ve probably managed more than well with all that. But the bungalow by the beach was expensive. The smart move would’ve been to find a place somewhere away from the beach. But there was nothing better than walking straight onto the beach from his own backdoor and get on the waves first thing after waking up. It had been his dream for as long as he could remember. And then there was everything else on top of that. He just couldn’t let it go, not yet.

But the phone bill was already late because he had to eat and buy gas, and the first time of rent to be paid just by him alone was looming at the end of the month. He could live without a phone for a few weeks if it came to that. But no matter how hard he tried to cut expenses, he couldn't pay for everything alone longer than just for another month.

---

When Billy finally got home in the evening after his class, he dropped his bag of sweaty training clothes on the laundry room floor. He dug out the note he’d taken with him from Mandy’s from his jacket pocket and looked at it.

It felt bittersweet that he'd have to rent out the room they'd used as a recreational space with Rob. Now all that was left there was his own weights. Rob had taken every single painting he'd ever painted in that room with him. Even though Rob hadn't been a proper artist—though he himself thought so and Billy hadn’t had the heart to question it—his art had color and life in them. The place felt lifeless and dull with all that gone, and the empty spaces on the walls reminded Billy about the breakup day in, day out. He'd have to buy at least some posters to cover those places. If he only had money to do that…

He sighed. A businessman sounded as good a roommate as anything. Better, even. He should at least have his half of the rent each month for sure.

Rob hadn't exactly been able to pay his half in full every month, but at least he'd been able to help some. Well, at least whenever he didn't have to unexpectedly stock on blank canvases or buy the latest trend hue selection of red paints absolutely necessarily because he just couldn’t express himself without them. And the whole time they'd lived there, Rob had been spending more time on the beach than Billy had. Rob didn't even like surfing.

All that was what had eventually led into the ultimatum Billy had given Rob: he would have to pull his weight, as in actually getting a proper day—or night—job, Billy didn't really care which one. Otherwise, Billy would have to reconsider their relationship. And not for the first time. He'd hoped it would've made Rob snap out of his reveries for good—but of course it hadn't. Rob had said he's not one to listen to any ultimatums, taken his things and left the next day.

Billy wiped his eyes angrily. He wouldn't let himself cry because of an asshole like Rob. That piece of shit didn't deserve his tears. With a new roommate, Billy could hopefully heal, move on from Rob at his own pace, and maybe at some point to date again, too. Because businessmen weren’t Billy’s style at all, he found them all boring. So, this guy would be a safe choice.

He just hoped that his phone was still connected as he went to the kitchen to make the call to whoever it was who was looking for a place to live. He unhooked the receiver of the phone attached to the wall and dialed the number.

The receptionist at the hotel answered. “Holiday Inn. How may I help you?”

“Hi, uh, I'm looking for someone who's staying at your hotel,” Billy said, looking at the paper and still trying to figure out what the squiggly letters of the name were.

“Can you give me their name?”

“That's the thing. I have a note with his name, but I can't really read it. I think the first name is Steve or Stephen, and the surname starts with an...H?”

“Hmm, let me see,” the receptionist said, and Billy could hear her typing on her computer. “Well, we have three guests matching for Steve H. at the moment: Hamilton, Harrington and Howell.”

Billy's brain hit blank for a moment. When he’d ran into Harrington, he’d said he had just moved into town… He closed his eyes as he shook his head, letting out a laugh. Shit. It had to be.

“Sir?” the receptionist asked.

“Um, yeah,” Billy said. “Harrington. Can you connect to his room, please?”

“Just one moment,” the woman said.

The dial tone came back for a while, and then the call connected.

“Hawrington.”

Yeah, that was Steve Harrington, the one and only, Billy thought. Even if he sounded like he was eating something. Billy had to keep himself from barking a laugh. He couldn’t quite believe that he was actually doing this. After a while, he managed to open his mouth. “Uh...Hi.”

The other end was quiet for a bit, and Billy was already about to ask if it was Steve when there was a reply. “Hi... Who is this?”

Billy laughed shortly and turned to lean his back to the kitchen wall. “It's Billy... Billy Hargrove,” he stammered slightly, scratching the back of his neck.

There was another brief pause. Then, “Uh, hi… How did you…um…” Harrington stuttered, surprised. “What can I do for you?”

Billy heard a paper crinkling somewhere close by the receiver. Harrington must’ve been wiping the corners of his mouth. Billy smiled. “You left a note on the notice board at Mandy’s. You still looking for a place to stay?”

“Oh, right! Yes, yes I do,” Harrington replied. “You know someone who has a room available?”

“Yeah. I, uh… I have a free room. My boyf… um…” Billy had to swallow. This was supposed to be easy. It wasn’t. “My previous roommate moved out. It’s, uh…it’s just a small two-bedroom bungalow, but it's by the beach. Easy to take early morning waves if you're into that kind of thing.” He had to pause. There was no going back after this. “You can move in as soon as you want.”

“Really?” Harrington asked and then was quiet for a while. Billy was again about to open his mouth when he finally spoke again. “Well, I’ve had none other offers and I haven’t found a good place from any paper ads either.”

“Oh, so is my offer something you’re taking just because you have no other option?” Billy let out bluntly, feeling Harrington’s words stinging even while knowing it wasn’t his fault he needed someone to pay the rent with.

“Hey, I don’t even know what you’re offering except a room by the beach,” came the reply with an annoyingly calm tone.

Suddenly, this didn’t feel like such a good idea anymore to Billy. “You know, I can hang up any moment…”

“No, please don’t,” Harrington said quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” Steve sighed. “I’m just tired after having no luck with finding a place to stay. It’s been more stressful than I expected. The hotel rates aren’t exactly built for my paycheck in the long run. I have just a few bags with me, no furniture. I can move in as soon as it suits you.”

Billy wrapped the cord around his finger. “So, you wanna see it first or…?”

“No, no need. I believe you it’s in a good spot and in a decent shape. On the beach and all.”

“Okay, pretty boy, you need to get yourself a bed, then. But you can sleep on the couch until then. It's a bit lumpy, though.”

Billy gave Harrington the address and hung up. He hooked the receiver, letting his hand hang on it for a while as he stared at the wall.

Rob was out. For good. If Rob tried to slither his way back, he wouldn’t have to come up with any excuses. Just say that there’s no room left. Even if Rob still very much occupied a nook in his heart and refused to leave. The bastard.

Then it hit Billy that he was about to live with Steve Harrington, of all people. It forced his mood to lift a little and he couldn't help but chuckle at the odd way of them reconnecting. They’d bumped into each other just a few days ago and now Harrington was about to move in with him.

He was a little concerned, though.

It wasn’t like they couldn’t have gotten along back in high school, but something had always been between them. Something abrasive, like hard sharp edges brushing against each other. Billy just hadn’t gotten enough of poking Harrington at any given moment. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut even after Harrington broke up with miss goody-two-shoes and saw that the other one was already on the edge.

Now he felt bad about it. He’d been the poster boy of a bully back then. He wasn’t proud of it, even though he’d had his reasons. This time he would do his best to try to get along with Harrington.

If something, at least he didn't have to fear falling in love with the man. The guy was straight as a board.

---

The next evening, Steve parked his car on the street in front of Billy’s bungalow. He got out of the car and looked around. The first thing that assaulted his senses was Metallica's ‘Nothing Else Matters’ blasting out onto the street from a window of the small powder blue house that bathed in the last sun rays of the day. Steve was sure the entire neighborhood heard it, but surprisingly, there was no one around complaining. Apparently, they were used to it.

The small, tiled front yard of the bungalow was covered with a pergola full of blooming wisteria. A salty breeze blew lazily from the ocean and made the heady fragrance of the flowers to surround Steve. Everything looked exactly the way Billy had described so far.

Steve took his bags from the trunk, walked to the door, and rang the doorbell.

A moment later, Billy opened the door. “Hey, Harrington!”

Steve smiled at the apron Billy was wearing. It was pink, saying 'Kiss the Cook'. He pointed at it. “Should I?”

Billy looked down on himself, then looked back up at Steve, long-faced. “Oh, ha ha.” He opened the door wider. “Get in.”

Steve walked in and, after setting his bags down, he took in the space. Billy hadn't lied when he'd said that the bungalow was small. The front door opened directly to the living room and with the couch—that was luckily fair sized—a TV with a VCR, and a shelf full of VHS-cassettes, it already felt full.

Billy closed the door behind Steve. “It's small, I know. Not like the mansion you used to live in back at Loch Nora,” he chuckled as he wiped his hands on the apron. “But the beach is right there,” he continued, pointing at the windows of the living room.

Steve looked wide-eyed at the gorgeous view of the beach and the ocean that opened behind the windows. “I bet that's why you chose it, right?” he said.

“Yeah. Which is why I also didn't want to move away from here when my boyfri...roommate left.”

Steve didn't miss the word Billy swallowed halfway. He glanced at Billy. “I'm sorry.”

Billy looked out for a moment, then glanced at Steve before a sad smile flashed on his lips. “Nothing to be sorry about. He was an asshole.”

An awkward silence fell over them for a while.

Clearing his throat, Billy gestured towards the other rooms. “Anyway, kitchen's over there. Bathroom's tiny and we have to share, but it does the job. The rooms aren't unfortunately that much larger, either.”

Billy showed Steve the empty room that was about to be his. With only Billy's weights on the floor, it looked a decent size.

When Steve saw Billy's room though... A double bed filled almost half of the room and the bed wasn't even that big.

But it wasn't the size of the room that surprised Steve the most. It was the powder pink duvet on the bed, turquoise shelves with surf paraphernalia and car books neatly organized on them, way too many crop tops hanging on the door of a small closet.

Not exactly what Steve had expected.

For some reason he'd imagined Metallica posters, haphazardly put together shelves, messy piles of clothes-mostly jeans-on the floor, maybe. The faded white and turquoise surfboard hanging on the wall was the only thing that somehow fit the picture Steve had of Billy.

Steve realized that he actually had no idea who Billy really was.

Suddenly, they were both snapped out of their thoughts by a smell of something burning.

“Oh, shit!” Billy yelped and ran to the kitchen. “Fucking piece of...Ugh!” he cursed loudly as he grabbed the pan from the stove and turned the gas off.

A moment later, the smoke alarm in the ceiling went off.

Steve went to the kitchen, holding his fingers in his ears. Black smoke rose from the pan in the sink and Billy was standing on a chair, trying to reach for the alarm in the ceiling to turn it off.

“Need a hand?” Steve shouted over the blaring alarm.

Billy managed to remove the screeching gadget from the ceiling and he ripped the battery out of it, quieting the noise before tossing both onto the table. He stepped down from the chair and leaned his hands onto the side of the sink where whatever had been cooking in the pan had transformed itself mostly into soot and smoke and was quickly exiting through the open window. “Nope. Dinner is ruined, though,” he sighed. “Fuck,” he muttered a while later. “Can’t do even this right.”

Steve was surprised at the disappointment on Billy’s face. Maybe the boyfriend situation was making things harder than normal. “I can get us pizza,” he offered.

Billy looked at Steve for a while, biting his cheek. “I wanted to welcome you with dinner but…” He shook his head. “Things haven’t been easy lately. Would you mind?”

Steve smiled. “Of course not. My treat.”

---

Later, they were eating their pizzas—Billy a Hawaiian, Steve a pepperoni—in the kitchen by the table Billy had set while Steve was out getting the pizzas.

“You seem to really...enjoy that,” Steve said, amused, when he saw Billy basically inhaling his pineapple filled slice.

“Hey,” Billy replied, mock-offended, “If you start telling me I can’t have my vitamins in the form I choose to...”

Steve laughed and raised his hands up in a placative gesture. “No judgment, just an observation.”

Billy smirked with a snort. “Right.” He ate the rest of his slice and wiped his hands on a napkin before taking a swig of his beer. “So, how's the work at...what was it? Marketing?”

“Yeah, marketing. For Blockbuster,” Steve replied.

Billy raised his eyebrows. “Oh, wow. You a big shot there or something?”

“Something,” Steve smiled. “So far, it hasn't been exactly what I thought it would be, though. I was hoping for fewer Excel sheets and projector slides and more something creative. I'd definitely spend time on waves rather than in the office.”

“You? On waves? Other than under them?” Billy teased, grinning. “Have you ever even seen a board? You looked at mine earlier like you'd never seen one before.”

“Not exactly what I meant,” Steve said, laughing.

Billy joined in the laughter. “Well, it's not that I spend time on the waves that much, either. Or haven't, not since we–I moved here. Had to make the ends meet, so to speak. But maybe now that you're here, I can catch a few here and there.”

Steve looked at his pizza and nodded, smiling. He'd been concerned about the idea of living together with Billy, and especially if their ideas of handling income and expenses would meet at least on some level. If it had been Billy who'd had to stretch the pennies before and he'd done it, too, maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Though the coming days would tell how well they'd really manage.

Steve just hoped they wouldn't be at each other's throats the whole time.

#harringrove fic #harringrove fanfiction #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #billy x steve #steve x billy #billy hargrove needs a hug #stranger things au #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #get out of my dreams get into my car #suometar writes

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enchantingcoffeecheesecake · 11 months

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(2/2 of emotional damage)

A few weeks passed, and everyone was settling into newer patterns. Alice was a damn beast after exercising nearly daily, and had grown hir hair out a bit, finding that it was a bit easier to manager now. Devon had been doing the same, letting her hair grow out more and more and really settling into a style that she enjoyed. (Nani did come visit a few times, but was never in a good spot for screenshots, but she's still in this story!)

There was a real shock when Ashly's dad stormed into the Ware house and began screaming at everyone, and scolded and yelled at Ashly with no reason. The whole family banded together and threw him out, and this situation definitely cemented that Ashly moving in with the Wares was a good idea.

Devon and Ashly became good friends, and Alice told Devon how proud ze was of her progress and her confidence in herself.

There's a gap in screenshots, but after this scenario, Grace fell back into another depressive episode, this one worse than before. She was just completely melancholic, and nothing would touch it. She went to therapy every day, and every session went poorly, and it never seemed to end. She made efforts to support both her children and Ashly, and did smile for them, even if she was still pessimistic. She was constantly talking about her fears with Bridget, who worked to reassure her, and it would seem like there was a glimmer of hope, but nothing changed.

She wasn't sleeping at night, and seemed to only be able to restore her energy bar while floating in the pool, and would just go out there multiple times every single day. It did help at first, but then it stopped helping.

She would stay out there for longer, and longer, and finally, on Prank Day, no less, she apparently went to relax in the pool while her energy bar was in the red, and drowned.

Bridget had just made dinner and came outside and witnessed her death.

The twins and Ashly followed after.

Her tombstone was moved to the side of the house (it spawned right by the pool, which I get, but it felt so rude), and Devon and Ashly went to mourn, but Bridget and Alice immediately went inside to cry it out in their beds.

--I did almost step away from my computer right then, I was actually sad about this, it really shocked me when the screen focused on Grace suddenly, and she was dying--

The following day was quiet, but the emotions were high everywhere. Bridget was trying to drink the pain away, and was either sleeping, crying, or making a drink. Devon was a wreck, constantly crying and standing out by her mother's gravestone multiple times, even when I tried to make her go inside. Alice was despondent, but was trying to pick up the slack for everyone. Ze cooked for everyone, cleaned every inch of the house, and couldn't complete a social interaction to save hir life. Ashly finally got through to hir and finally took hir to sleep after talking with hir and comforting hir. Ze needs to allow hirself to grieve, and can't replace hir mother.

Nani visited, and offered to make some food for everyone, but accidentally set the stove on fire. Devon rushed in and extinguished the fire before it could spread, and helped clean up the mess afterward. Nani decided the best way to help after this would be to just be moral support, at least until she raises her cooking skill.

Following this event, Ashly brought all of them to sit and talk, and they all acknowledged that they were grieving, and they did need to grieve in their own ways, but they also needed to support each other. Of course, this was a unanimous agreement, but Bridget is still deeply affected by this-- having lost the love of her life-- but she is not expressing this to the twins or Ashly.

She left the conversation and went back to what was now her room and sat on her bed, quiet for a moment, before going to sleep again.

I was not ready for any of these emotions, and I am devastated that Grace and Bridget had their dream of growing old together and playing with their grandbabies together ripped away from them.

I already know Bridget won't marry again, she was a loyal sim, and I don't think she'll be able to fall in love again. Time will tell, I suppose, but my next goal is to help them all come out of this without any more death.

#sims #the sims 4 #legacy challenge #sims 4 #new legacy #sims 4 legacy #generation 2 #sims 4 trauma #update #part two #emotional damage #screaming crying throwing up #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 story #sims 4 simblr

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sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 3 years

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Hi, I have an idea for Chishiya if it's okay! He have something going on with Kuina's friend, and after she didn't came back from a game everyone thought that she died, but she actually just left (she didn't want to become too attached to Chishiya maybe?) and 1 month later the militants found her and Chishiya is rather cold toward her because she left him without saying anything. Happy ending if possible, please

Thanks for requesting, here you go. Enjoy! 🥰

Home | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Chishiya (ft. Kuina, Niragi)

Summary: You run away from the beach, but soon were found by the militants again. Chishiya, your closest companion, is mad when you return for not saying anything.

Warning: mention of sexual harassment, swearing, grieving, heavy angst

Word Count: 4.8k

*reader is female

Author’s Note: I’m sorry if the ending is a bit cliché, but I really enjoyed writing this one!

“I’m so sick of this shit Kuina. She’s gone. What the hell do we do now?”

Chishiya and Kuina sat on the top roof of The Beach. Their legs were dangling over the edge, above the groups of people who sang their hearts out over the loud music. They couldn’t be down there themselves, not that night.

“It’s so unfair,” Chishiya grumbled, rubbing his stained eyes with his hands. “I hate how everyone just moves on like nothing happened.”

Kuina sniffled, trying to control her runny nose as she listened to Chishiya’s pained words. “Look Chish, it was going to happen to one of us three at some point, it just happened to be Y/N.” Kuina tried to keep her voice stable, but the occasional voice crack gave away her sadness.

“Yes I know, but it still hurts so fucking bad.”

You hadn’t returned from your game. You hadn’t returned back to Chishiya and Kuina. You hadn’t returned home.

*******

“Oi Y/N! Slow the hell down!”

You heard Kuina yell out to you from down the hall. You laughed at her desperate attempt to catch up while Chishiya walked at his own pace watching you guys.

“Why are we suddenly having a race?! We have all day to get down to the pool!” Kuina called out. You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face her. “I want to get down there before the sun comes out and everyone wakes up! Don’t you want to have it just for us three for a while?”

“I suppose so,” Kuina breathed out heavily.

Chishiya’s lips pulled up into a smile as he watched you too bicker. “Oi you two. Be quiet. People in these halls are still sleeping,” he said.

Kuina turned to Chishiya and pulled a mocking bored face towards him. “Well you’re fun this morning,” she muttered in a sarcastic tone.

All three of you made your way to the pool on the bottom floor of The Beach, tripping and shoving each other playfully while giggling. You hardly ever did this together, because Chishiya always slept until noon, so you were excited about having the pool to yourselves before the sun came up.

When you reached outside, your chatters and the sound of your bare feet on the pavement broke the silence of the night. You hoped that Hatter kept the windows closed to his suite because you knew if you woke him up he would come down and beat your asses for being awake so early.

You looked over towards the pool that was still lit up with underwater neon blue lights from the night before. You’d think that they would shut all the lights off at least to save a bit of electricity, but apparently not.

Kuina had thrown her towel down carelessly on a nearby deck chair and was now chasing after Chishiya, who powered his short legs to try and escape her.

“Chishiya you’re going in the pool! You can’t chicken out forever!” she yelled as she caught up to him and wrapped her strong arms around his waist.

You could tell the years of martial arts training paid off for Kuina as she lifted Chishiya into her arms like he weighed nothing. “Bitch, put me down! I don’t want to go in the pool! Why is that such a crime!?”

You doubled over in laughter as Kuina held the cat-like blonde in her arms, him squirming more violently as she got to the side of the pool.

“Goodbye!” she yelled and dropped him into the pool. His screaming cut off as he was submerged into the water. You walked over and placed your stuff down, listening to Kuina and Chishiya bickering in the background.

It was a shame that you were planning on walking out on these guys. But in a world like this, the bad moments really outweighed the good ones.

“Alright you’re next!” you heard behind you, making you snap out of your short daze.

“Wait, no!” you bellowed as Kuina repeated the same thing she did with Chishiya. This time, it was his turn to laugh at you.

“Jesus christ woman. The fuck got you so lively this morning?” you laughed at Kuina, who gracefully dived into the pool to tease you two.

You felt Chishiya tuck his chin on your shoulder gently, taking you by surprise. “I guess we got to act as happy as we can now. Our five day visa ends tonight.” Chishiya mumbled to you two.

The air around the three of you suddenly became stiff at the mention of the games. You lifted your hand and placed it on Chishiya’s damp hair. “It’s alright, it was a fun and relaxing five days while it lasted,” you said cheerfully.

“Don’t say that like as if you’re going to die,” Chishiya scolded you. “You won’t die, none of us three will.” He was trying to reassure himself that he would come back from his game with you all happy and healthy waiting in the lobby for him. He hoped for that exact reality every time he had to leave you to restore his visa. He panicked even when you were ten minutes later than usual. It was a constant battle with anxiety when it came to caring for you in a world like this.

But unfortunately, while Chishiya was willing to fight against the growing anxiety that came with loving you, you didn’t want anything to do with it.

You and Chishiya have been as tight as two peas in a pod since Kuina introduced you. Kuina and you happened to meet at a diamonds game that was further in the centre of the city which was where you appeared in the game. She was nice enough to take you back to The Beach, because she thought that your intelligence and gentle personality would be useful.

But the plan of using you for Kuina and Chishiya’s own personal gain went out the window when both of them built a strong connection with you. They tried so hard to stop it, but in the end, they decided to make you an addition to their little manipulative games with the others. A mysterious duo became a peculiar trio.

That’s when Chishiya began to notice other things he felt.

He began feeling an irrational attachment to you, always wanting to be around you and always wanting to make sure that you were safe. You began noticing his additional little quirks as well, as soon you both fell for each other, without the other knowing of course.

Kuina obviously knew, as she was incredibly observant. She always kept her mouth shut though, wanting to see the drama play out in front of her. It was entertaining at times.

“You two are cute,” she gushed at you and Chishiya, holding a cheeky smile on her face.

Chishiya tucked his face into your neck to hide his blush, but it only made your heart skip a beat. “Shut up,” he mumbled into your skin.

You sighed heavily as he kept his place there, snaking his arms around your waist. This was honestly normal. The closer you’ve gotten with Chishiya, the less shy he’s been to convey physical affection. You loved and hated it at the same time, because you knew the more he made your heart race, the harder it would be to leave him.

At times you thought you’d rather deal with his cold and untrustworthy personality, like how he was when he first met you. It was easier to dislike him then, but now that his real personality has shown through, you realized how good of a person he actually seemed to be.

Chishiya never became close to someone, because he knew it would be hard to pull away when he needed to use them for his own survival. So he’s just always chosen to keep everyone at a distance.

You on the other hand, you hadn’t fallen down the deep whole of caring fully for someone in this world, but you knew you were about to stumble off the edge.

While Kuina and Chishiya waited to renew their visas, you waited to run away from the stress of waiting for your friend’s potential deaths.

******

You, Kuina and Chishiya trudged down the steps that led to the lobby. Hatter had called everyone to meet there a few minutes ago to prepare for the games. Hearing the familiar bell ring throughout the so-called paradise made your heart weaken. It was calling you to your end, every single time.

The trio of you took your usual place towards the back of the lobby, leaning against the cement walls and looking over everyone’s heads. How weird it felt, that by the time you gathered here next, the number of people would reduce by a couple dozen. It made your stomach sink in remorse. You truly were nothing more than soldiers fighting a war that wasn’t your own.

You looked down at your own feet, beginning to feel guilty about your plan of running away. The people you would abandon, the friends who would miss you. And even they can’t come find you, but you knew it was for the best. For both you and them.

You felt something tickle your hand. You glanced your eyes down to see that it was Chishiya, trying to sneak his hand into yours as Hatter began his booming speech across the crowd. You looked up to the blonde’s face, but he was focused on Hatter. You smiled sadly and accepted his hand into yours, earning a soft squeeze from him.

Kuina placed her head on your shoulder, leaning closer towards you. It was as if they knew, and they were trying to get you to change your mind. You felt tears building up in your eyes, but quickly wiped them away with your hoodie sleeve before anyone noticed.

Damn. You were never going to forget them.

******

Chishiya sat in the leather lounge in the lobby. He had just arrived back from his spades game. Wasn’t too difficult, for him at least.

Only now he was stressing inside, leg bouncing up and down on the carpet quickly. He knew you wouldn’t return for a good while, but yet he always was worried about you. No matter the situation.

Niragi didn’t help the situation. He strolled over earlier with a few of his militant mates and roughed Chishiya up for a bit. He honestly wasn’t in the mood for their antics, so he didn’t fight back much. They eventually got bored and walked away.

There hardly was anyone in the lobby, it was strangely quiet.

Chishiya looked towards the entrance to the lobby where a small group of people just walked in from. He recognized them as the group Kuina was placed with, so he stood up from his seat and quickly made his way over.

He managed to spot Kuina walking by herself at the back of the group. Chishiya let out a relieved sigh and strolled up to her. “Thank god you’re okay,” he said, giving her a short hug. “You too,” she replied.

They walked back over to where Chishiya was sitting beforehand and sat down. “Do you know who Y/N went with?” Kuina asked.

“No idea, I had to leave with my group before hers,” he answered.

They both sat in silence for a while, hearts squeezing in on themselves from tension.

As group after group piled into the lobby and moved to go to the back pool to celebrate their wins. While their hearts and minds were overflowing in joy of surviving, Chishiya’s and Kuina’s slowly became heavier and heavier with grief.

One of the last groups finally came back, being a few hours later than everyone else. Chishiya searched the small crowd for your familiar face, but didn’t see it.

“Kuina,” he started with a tense voice. “Don’t say it,” she immediately cut him off. “Don’t say anything Chish. She’s fine, I know it.”

That became harder and harder to believe the later into the night it got. Soon enough, no one was left in the halls and the lobby, either gone to bed or stayed out in the pool area.

Chishiya didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t feel anything. His body was tired from the constant tensing, the constant anxiety.

He stood up abruptly and looked towards Kuina, who had her head in her hands. He gave her a sad smile, and reached his hand out to help her up. “Come on, let’s go to the roof like old times,” he smiled, fighting the tears building up in his eyes.

*********

When they reached the top of the building after climbing many annoying flights of steps, Chishiya tilted his head back to feel the wind blow around his head. He opened his eyes and saw the galaxy of stars above him. ‘So weird,’ he thought to himself. ‘In a horrible place like this, such beautiful things can still exist.’

Kuina and Chishiya sat on the edge of the roof, feet dangling off the edge. Complete silence took over them. Neither of them knew what to say.

Kuina broke her gaze off the staggering height of the drop below them and glanced at Chishiya. He was staring straight ahead of him, hoodie covering his face so she couldn’t see what he was looking at.

“Chish, are you okay?” Kuina asked quietly, leaning forward to try and see his face. It felt strange to her, having Chishiya be completely silent for a change. Usually he would be making a smartass comment or a teasing joke towards her or Y/N. It was like the happiness in him had drained out.

He didn’t answer for a short moment, but then he turned his head to look at Kuina in the eyes. Kuina was taken back.

Chishiya had pools of tears cascading down his pale face, mixing with the sweat that he still endured from the game. He let out no sobs and no cries. Just dry, empty tears running down his cheeks like doves flying down the edge of a cliff.

“No, I’m not okay,” he muttered to her. “This fucking sucks.”

*******

It had been a few weeks since your death, not that there was a huge difference at The Beach from your disappearance. Everyone carried on like normal, everyone except Kuina and Chishiya.

They became secluded, more than usual. Kuina spent most of her time in the hotel’s gym, trying to distract herself from everything that happened. She wanted to get stronger so she could win games, she knew that’s what you would have wanted.

Chishiya however, he wasn’t taking your death well at all. Chishiya lost his fire, his headstrong attitude and snappy remarks. He kind of disappeared himself, but only his body stayed.

He felt stupid at times. What would he have expected? Of course you died, knowing his luck. He began irrationally thinking, believing that the world took you away because he didn’t deserve someone as warm-hearted as you. He felt cheated almost. It was like the universe had you dangling on a string in front of him, and when he finally had the courage to reach towards you, it yanked you away out of his view.

When he was having particular hard days, he would lie on his bed in his room for hours, not bothering to get up for food or the bathroom. He felt numb inside, he honestly thought nothing would be able to hurt him anymore, because he’s endured the worst of his emotions.

The mirror in his room was smashed, due to his own doing. He broke it a few days after the incident, screaming into the stuffy air of his room and throwing one of his makeshift knives at it. He watched in pain as it crackled and crumbled under the impact, seeing his own reflection fall into a million pieces, much like how he was feeling at that moment.

He had never experienced this kind of hurt before. He always thought other people were being dramatic when they broke down crying after hearing their significant other or friend didn’t make it back to The Beach. He thought that it should’ve been expected, that they shouldn’t be surprised that it happened. But he guessed you never know what another person is feeling unless you experience it yourself.

But god, does he wish he didn’t, because it hurt more than a thousand knives to his cold, stone heart.

**********

One day, Chishiya was standing on the edge of a balcony that looked over the entrance to The Beach. He enjoyed standing up there because he loved the spectacular view of the ocean. It reminded him of his real home, when he used to ride his bike down to the beach with his friends and swim in the water for hours. He missed life when it was so easy for him.

The breeze was cool on his skin, giving him goosebumps. It felt refreshing and somewhat free, a small taste of bliss for him. His eyes were shut as he listened to the crows screech in the distance and the ocean waves hit the shore. The sound of nature rang in his ears, making his endorphins swirl in his brain.

It was a good break every now and then from the usual melancholy emotions that swarmed around him, keeping his happiness locked down in chains. While he was on that balcony, actually breathing fully and normally for once, his demons decided to let loose of the chains that held his sweet happiness trapped.

Chishiya opened his dark eyes and glanced downwards towards the bottom level and saw something that caught his eye.

A group of three militants seemed to have a young woman in their grasp, one of them being Niragi himself. Chishiya watched as they tried hard to hold the smaller person at bay, as she was thrashing around trying to escape.

He frowned, confusion painting across his face. That girl, she looked oddly familiar.

Niragi told the militants to bring her around the side of the building, where a small alley was located beside the entrance. Chishiya knew that’s where the militants dragged people to kill them off, they were planning on killing her.

Chishiya wondered what she did that was so bad. Hatter hardly ever gave the order to kill someone, unless the situation was betrayal or anything worse.

He moved himself along the balcony towards where the commotion below him was occurring. He wanted to hear what they were saying, because who knows what shit Niragi gets up to without Hatter knowing. It seemed a little too suspicious to be dragging someone to their death in broad daylight, especially where everyone could see.

Chishiya heard slight fragments of what they were yelling: “You thought- … run away?!” Niragi screamed in his psychotic voice. “Let go of-...! …could have just left me there!”

Chishiya felt his heart drop. That voice, it was all too familiar. How could he have forgotten what your voice sounded like.

He lifted his head and stared forward in shock. That couldn’t be right, you’ve been dead for weeks!

He thought for a second, trying to come to a possible conclusion with the horrific yells in the background of his mind. How is it possible you could still be alive?

That couldn’t be you, it just couldn’t be. Chishiya shook his head and chuckled. “The fuck am I thinking? Great, now I’m hallucinating. No one told me that was another stage of grief.”

He turned his body to walk back inside to look for Kuina, until he heard the young woman getting attacked yell again, this time, clear as day.

“Chishiya! Kuina!”

That was it. That was definitely you.

Chishiya lifted his legs and began sprinting towards the staircase inside. There was no doubt in his mind that that wasn’t you. The way you said his name was too real to not be you.

He tripped and stumbled down the stairs, almost falling flat on his face on one flight. He had to get there before you were dead, for real this time.

As he pushed his entire body weight against the entrance doors to the hotel, he pulled a small knife out his white hoodie pocket. He had made it out of glass from his broken mirror, considering that Hatter wouldn’t allow him to have his own weapons.

Your screams were much more prominent now, more desperate sounding and more fearful. The sound pierced through Chishiya as he made his way quickly around the side of the hotel.

There you were, being pinned against the wall by two militants while Niragi held the barrel of his rifle against your chest, right over your heart.

Chishiya yelled out, which probably wasn’t the best idea considering his current situation. It was three tall men with guns against a small, frail man with a makeshift knife.

“Chishiya! The fuck you doing here?” Niragi asked with a cheeky smirk on his face. God, Chishiya wanted to punch him so bad.

“Let her go Niragi, you don’t want this to get ugly do you?” Chishiya threatened, holding his glass knife out.

Niragi laughed along with the other two militants. You still struggled against their grip, seemingly more calm with Chishiya distracting them.

“How cute ‘ey? Little blonde twink coming to save the love of his life, how sweet of you.” Niragi pressed, pushing his rifle harder against you just to push Chishiya’s buttons.

“If you haven’t noticed Chishiya, she ran away! She never died like you thought she did! She ran away from The Beach, she ran away from you!”

His words were like bullets in Chishiya’s chest. He felt belittled and mocked, he hated it.

“Shut up! She wouldn’t do that!” he yelled frustratingly.

“Oh really?! She wouldn’t?! Then explain why we managed to find her strolling the streets of Tokyo! Not a scratch on her, and she seemed smart enough to run away when she saw us.”

Chishiya’s scowl dropped on his face. He looked at you to see if you would deny it, but you had stopped struggling against the two men and hung your head low, not looking into his eyes.

He shook off the hurt he felt from this fact. He had to focus on getting you away from Niragi before he took time to think about other things.

“Niragi please. Just let go of her, I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Chishiya begged. He felt small, never has he ever begged for something in his life.

“Hmm? How though? I was just about to have some fun with her before I killed her off. Why should I give that up just because you want me to,” Niragi spat at him. Your eyes widened in fear and you thrashed around in the grip that the militants had on you, panicking from Niragi’s threat.

Chishiya thought for a second. He would honestly give anything to bring you over to him. “My cards. You can take credit for every card that I collect for a couple of months. If Hatter or Aguni asks, just say I’m slacking. I’ll take any punishment they throw my way.”

You saw Niragi consider it before lowering his weapon off of your torso. You breathed out heavily in relief.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to do this again. You can’t bribe me with everything you sneaky fuck.” Niragi growled. The two militants let go of you and followed him out of the alleyway and into the entrance of The Beach.

You leant against the wall, staring at Chishiya as he stared down at the ground below him. The air between you two was tense. You could tell he was mad, Chishiya was always silent when he was incredibly angry.

“Chish, I-”

“Don’t talk to me. Just come.”

Don’t get me wrong, he couldn’t have been happier to see that you were alive and well. But the betrayal he felt from the fact that you ran away from him greatly outweighed his happiness.

He walked briskly ahead of you, you didn’t dare walk next to him or too close to him. He was scaring you a bit, and you wanted nothing but to sprint to your own room and hide from the rest of the world.

You were embarrassed and also frustrated you were caught. Trust Niragi and his cocky ass to find you.

Chishiya stopped in front of his own room, opened the door and gestured for you to walk inside. You hesitated before slowly making your way through the door. You hated how tense it was, it was the complete opposite of what you usually felt when you were around Chishiya.

You sat down on his bed, sitting in an awkward position and looked towards Chishiya. It was complete silence as he was frozen at the door, back towards you and holding the door handle harshly.

“What the fuck Y/N?” he mumbled. It was almost inaudible, but you could hear pain in his words, which made you immediately feel guilty.

“What the fuck was that? You ran away!?” he turned and yelled at you, tears building up in his eyes.

You flinched as his loud voice. You had never heard him yell in anger before, usually he kept his calm. You looked down to the ground, feeling your own eyes fill with hot tears. You felt like you were back in high school with your parents screaming at you for running away from home.

“I THOUGHT YOU DIED!” he shouted louder, “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH PAIN YOU PUT KUINA THROUGH?! HOW MUCH YOU PUT ME THROUGH?!”

You couldn’t breathe. Pain and suffering dripped off his words like rain on a roof, coming together and creating an atmosphere that held air that was unbreathable. You suffocated on the oxygen, making you choke and cause tears to begin running down your cheeks.

“Why!?” he cried. “Why did you run!? There was no reason, me and Kuina could have protected you if you were too scared! Why did you think that running away was the only option!?” Chishiya stumbled closer to you, almost tripping over his own feet.

You flinched heavily as he placed his cold hands on your shoulders roughly. They were shaking from trying to hold your sobs in.

“WHY DID YOU LEAVE-” “Chishiya!” you interrupted him by snapping your head up to meet your eyes with his. His face dropped as he saw the sadness behind yours, replacing the wonderful and cheerful happiness that once swam in your eyes like dolphins in a sea.

“I l-love you,” you mumbled out between your shaky breaths. “That was the problem Chish. I-I’m in love with you and it hurt too fucking bad to know that you could disappear out of my reach at any moment. I ran because I didn’t want to watch you and Kuina die!”

Chishiya’s own hands shook violently against your shoulders. He gazed into your eyes which were red and puffy from your tears. They were shining more now than they had ever before.

“You don’t have to leave Y/N,” he whispered, still trying to control his own breathing. “I want you here, next to me. Not out there, because when you’re out there, I can’t be with you.”

You nodded and smiled sadly. Chishiya pulled his hand from your shoulder and cradled your face gently. He swiped his thumb over your cheek to get rid of the tears there. “I love you too, but I can’t be without you.”

A grin crept onto your face as you looked into his eyes. You felt safer than ever in his arms, why did you think of ever leaving?

Chishiya wiped his own tears with his hoodie sleeve and put on a happier smile. “You want to know how pathetic I am without you?” he giggled and held your hands in his.

“I almost threw myself off the top of the hotel the night you didn’t come back. Kuina had to tackle me to the ground to keep me away from the edge.” he laughed at himself.

You chuckled along with him. “Imagine if you did! What a shocker it would’ve been if I came back and Kuina saw me alive after you killed yourself because you thought I was gone!”

You both sat on Chishiya’s bed and laughed at each other. You had to do it, humour is best in times of stress and anxiety.

*********

You opened your eyes slowly, only to be met with the blinding light of the sun seeping through the blinds. You hissed and turned your head the other way.

Chishiya chucked at your reaction, making his chest that was underneath your head vibrate. “So cute,” he muttered to himself.

You pushed your face deeper into his chest and breathed in his scent. It felt good to be back with Chishiya. It felt good to be home.

Author’s Note: oKaY so this ended up being a lot longer than expected. Please send in some requests if you have any! 🥰🥰

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the-children · 3 years

Text

The Westmoore Tragedies | Chapter 2

[ TW: Gore below the ‘Keep Reading’ line. ]

“Our children aren’t safe!”

“Have they found who killed those poor people?”

“It’s gonna happen again!”

“We want answers!”

More voices soon joined in, eventually creating a dull roar of overlapping panic from a slowly growing crowd of villagers that had gathered before the town hall—it was a bi-weekly occurrence by now since the massacre was discovered. Rodarin shifted his posture against the stone wall of the storefront he leaned upon, watching and listening as they shouted their concerns and pointed fingers. He couldn’t blame them—hells, he sympathized with them. They were scared because no one had answers, and they were angry there was nothing they could do. A gentle sting of pain pulsed through his lower lip as he bit at it in frustration, quickly turning from the crowd as he made his way to the schoolhouse. He needed to pick up his son and daughter early so they could begin packing their clothes and toys. Sarina planned to leave with the twins, take them to stay with her sister in La Noscea while Rodarin stayed a few more nights to find out what he could.

Firm steps echoed along the tiled floors of the hallway, his stare held upon the dull reflections within the tile while he lost himself to his thoughts. Westmoore had always prided itself on its higher educational standards—it was the reason he and Sarina moved here once they learned she was pregnant. It wasn’t a massive, sprawling city like Limsa Lominsa—but it wasn’t some small, run-down village either. There were multiple classrooms, one for each grade. Luckily, his children were only a year apart—their classrooms were directly across from one another at the end of the hall to his left. As he rounded the corner however, a sudden chill licked at his spine, causing him to stop in his tracks.

He had been so absorbed in his thoughts about the circumstances surrounding the disappearances, that he hadn’t been paying attention to his own. This wasn’t right.. something was very wrong about this. The hallways were unnaturally dark given the time of day—and even more alarming were the sudden lack of windows. His breaths became slightly unsteady as a sense of claustrophobia gripped at his lungs. It was far, far too quiet. There were no murmurs of lectures, nor childlike chatter and laughter. With this level of silence, he didn’t doubt he could even hear the soft scribbling of pencils from the classrooms on the second floor—but there was nothing. He took a few quick steps, which seemed to echo endlessly in this dreadful silence, to peer down the main hallway. The front doors were closed. They were open when he entered—they were always open to help keep the hallways cool during the hotter days. And that was another thing—the cold. The chilled air that sank deep into his flesh that was beginning to make his teeth chatter. This wasn’t right.

His heart began to drum within his chest, heated breath billowing from parted lips as he walked briskly towards the end of the left hallway—he needed to see his children. The doors to the classrooms nearly burst open behind the urgency of his entries, but both would be empty. His heart hammered loudly in his ears, hands lifting to run through and pull at his hair as his mind raced with horrible possibilities. Who took his children? What were they doing to them? And were they even still alive? Soft whimpers and murmured pleads began to dribble from his lips as tears gathered—but fighting through the sickening fear that knotted in his stomach, he sprinted for the other classrooms. With shoulder positioned forward, he burst through door after door—each more violent than the last as wood splintered and hinges cracked. He had eventually searched the entire first floor—even the main office and cafeteria. As he approached the staircase that led to the second floor, the shadows seemed to grow darker. His frenzied pace faltered, shaking fingers resting upon the rail as he peered up into the dark.

He proceeded with caution, climbing the staircase with slow, careful steps as he took this time to try his damnedest at calming himself. Rounding the bend that brought the staircase the rest of the way up, a deep crimson hue began to bleed and taint the shadows, corrupting it into a sickly crimson that tainted his vision—his careful stride pausing a moment to adjust his eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he heard the faint rustling of paper and muffled laughter of children, his pace quickening once more at the mere prospect of finding his son and daughter. Though once he reached the top of the steps, his excitement was quickly crushed by the smeared blood that streaked along the hallway. The first classroom’s door on the right was wide open, blood pooling into the hallway from within. He could make out the smeared drag marks that lead from this open classroom to the one at the end of the hall, with its door closed. Various small shoe prints were left behind in the blood’s trail, all following towards the same closed room. He inched his way down the hall, shaky breaths filling the air between the pauses of muffled laughter and movement that came from the closed classroom. On his way, he carefully inched closer to the open door where the blood trail originated.

His pulse hammered away in his ears as he mustered the nerve to peek into the doorway. The chairs and desks were scattered in disarray while mutilated bodies of adults—teachers and staff—littered the room like trash in pools of blood. Their flesh had been ripped and shredded to literal ribbons, and their faces seemed to have been hollowed out—no eyes, no teeth. “Valrin?.. Mia?..” Rodarin hissed in a pleading whisper, his ears straining as he silently prayed for an answer—only for it to go unheard. Jaw clenched tightly, he stepped back into the hallway and continued to follow the trail towards the closed door at the end of the hall.

His hand hovered over the doorknob as he listened to the commotion within. Occasional laughter, gentle snips of scissors, rustling of paper—if not for the insane circumstances, one would simply assume it was time for crafts. Slowly, steadily, the door opened as Rodarin watched in horror. Various children were scattered among the room, sitting beside the fresh corpses of their teachers—some were still twitching, kept alive to suffer longer. Soft grunts of effort escaped one child as he clipped away at the flesh of a dead woman’s arm. Others were cutting various shapes and patterns into limbs and torsos. Ribbons of skin were used as bindings and plasters for other small crafts. Eyes were scooped from their sockets with tiny fingers as the onlookers cried “Ewwwwww~!” in playful disgust, tossed from one to the other in a sick game of catch. They were playing.. Their faces were lit up in delight, not a care in the world as they played in the blood and gore of their victims. In the obscene horror of it all, Rodarin almost didn’t notice the dark, shadow-covered children standing off to the side, watching the others play with wide eyes and plastered smiles of pure white.

“Mr. Calrise.” He jumped at the formal call of his name, turning quickly to glance down the hall—which was empty. When he looked back, the shadowed children were before him, clawing at his legs as they tried to climb up. He could feel their tiny fingernails digging into his flesh. “Mr. Calrise?” He heard the call again, but was overcome by the weight of the climbing shadows—falling to the ground as his head cracked upon the tile during its whip back. “Rodarin!” A smack stung at his cheek, his eyes bolting open while he gasped and wheezed in panic. Melrin’s hands pressed to his chest, keeping him steady as he studied Rodarin with a worried, concerned expression. Young teens peered past Melrin from the classroom doorway, staring in curiosity and slight fear. “Rodarin, you alright?” Melrin mumbled as he helped him to his feet. “I.. uh..” He was at a loss for words, completely stunned as he looked around. Everything was normal, aside from having woken up on the ground. Melrin gave him a light pat on the back. “You just came to my classroom, stared for a while, then fell over. You feelin’ okay?.. You’re bleedin’” Melrin commented as he gestured towards the bloodstained leggings of Rodarin’s pants.

With tentative fingers he peeled back the cloth, revealing the various tiny scratches that had sunk deep into his flesh. A nauseating panic still gripped at his heart, but for whatever reason, he was back. And he needed to see his children. He needed to leave. “I’m fine. Got scratched up by a damn jackal earlier, must’ve had some disease—feeling all out of place.” He said, fabricating his story quickly as he gave a quick apology and walked briskly towards the staircase with a slight limp. He was on the second floor, and the injuries were still there. It was real, it had to have been. So then why was everything fine now? Back on the first floor, normality had been restored—no busted doors, and only more questions plaguing his mind. He made for the end of the side hall again, finding his children alive and well—and giving them each a long embrace, embarrassing them in front of their classmates. If only they knew why..

He spent the rest of his day with his children, pushing what had happened to the corners of his mind. His children were safe, and he was thankful. That night, he helped them pack their bags, making sure they had enough room for all their favorite toys to keep them entertained while they were away. A restless night awaited him, peeking in to check on them while they slept every ten or twenty minutes as he tried to figure out what the hells had happened. Sleep wouldn’t come until the next morning, Sarina and the kids giving their farewell hugs and kisses as they made off for La Noscea. Rodarin collapsed on the couch, his eyes no longer able to stay open. It was short lived, possibly only three or four hours passing before frantic knocking came to his front door. It took him a moment to heave himself up from the soft embrace of the cushions, the front door creaking open to reveal a captain of the Fleet. “Rodarin, come by the schoolhouse. We found the staff dead.. It’s happened again..”

to ̗̱b̙̤̟e͍͙̦̬̘͞ ̧̠c̣̪̖̙̣̭̮͟o̳̝͝n̥t̪̳i͙̕n̩͡u͓̝e̜̤̘̙̫̩͕d͔̬̩̠̟͙̭͘ .

#The Children #Rodarin Calrise #Westmoore #It's time again #Origins #FFXIV RP #Crystal LFRP #Mateus RP #Balmung RP

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boxofbadaddiction · 4 years

Text

All I Wanna Do is Make Love to You

Song Inspired

Fred Weasley x Reader

George Weasley x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Sexual References. Swearing. War. Angst with a happy ending.

War was fast approaching. People were running scared, others disappearing at random. Everyone was on edge and looking for something, anything, to bring comfort. Something to distract themselves, even if only for a moment, from the horror of their reality.

For [Y/N] and Fred, that comfort was found in one another.

The night before the battle saw members of the Order organising, coming together to discuss possible strategies in the fight to come. Following a particularly gut wrenching speech from Lupin about "preparing for the inevitable", which everyone knew from the look of his eyes he meant the unavoidable deaths that will occur, the room fell silent.

Fred and [Y/N] turned their attention to one another as if in slow motion. Frightened and teary-eyed expressions mirrored by the other. It was the first time she had ever seen him so vulnerable. As members began to disperse Fred reached his hand out for her to take. Not a word was spoken as the two ascended the staircase of the home currently being used as Headquarters for the Order, finding refuge in a room Fred had occupied for the past three nights.

Releasing her grip on his hand [Y/N] entered the dimly lit space first as Fred closed the door gently behind him, leaning his weight back against it. He watched her as she turned back to meet his gaze.

[Y/N]s chest began to rise and fall as panicked breaths took over, shoulders shuddering as tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. Appearing as the embodiment of sorrow itself. Freds head fell to the side sadly as a defeated breath escaped his throat. Heart aching at the sight.

In an instant the two were closing the space between them, lips crashing in a frantic kiss. His hands came to the nape of her neck and hers bunched in the fabric of his shirts collar.

Tongues entwining hungrily as their hands began to roam the others body, discarding various articles of clothing in their wake.

Slowly stepping backwards [Y/N] began blindly leading them towards the bed, stopping momentarily to kick away their pants that'd slung around their ankles.

Fred seized the moment to take control, lifting [Y/N] with a firm grip to her ass from the ground. Her legs immediately wrapping around his waist and arms wrapping around his neck. Fred collapsed the pair onto the bed hovering mere millimetres above her as they proceeded to rid the other of their final items of clothing.

Freds mouth traced her entire body as if mapping her every detail with his lips.

Their bodies entwined and writhed together in perfect sync. Soft moans, gasping breaths and declarations of love filled the thick air. They cherished every movement, every taste and sound shared by the other as if they had an eternity to do so. Though it very well felt like nothing more than borrowed time.

That night suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago as [Y/N] stood pale and cold before the gathered Weasley family who mourned the loss of their son, brother and best friend. Whilst she denied the fate of her lover laid before her.

Soft gasps and declarations of her lost love were the only sounds to peirce the thick polluted air as she crumpled in front of his body. Tears pouring from her eyes at the sight.

The moment replayed in her mind every second of her days. His lifeless form plaguing more than just her dreams. It plagued her entire existence. It was too much to bare. Not knowing where to turn next [Y/N] responded in the only way she could think to.

She ran.

There was nothing left for her there. Nothing but heartache and pain and the tormenting memory of what had once been. She left for her home country, with no intention of ever returning.

But fate had other ideas.

11 years later found [Y/N] wandering the streets of Diagon Alley. It was just as it always had been, before the war. Shops bustling with the life of families searching for their various books and essentials for the beginning of a new school year. She were delighted to see so many of the original stores that were destroyed during the second war restored to their former grandeur. As she strolled through the crowed street gazing through the display windows, she was brought back to her old days. Back to all those school years when she'd come to collect her books and supplies. Mind running with itself through the many memories of her youth blissfully unaware of the busy bodies of people around.

Until...

"[Y/N]?!" a tall redheaded man barrelled through the street towards her.

"George?!" She found herself suddenly wrapped tight within his arms, it felt just like it always had. It felt warm and safe. Like being home. [Y/N] hadn't seen him since the war. She hadn't seen anyone. Right now she were struggling to see reason why, well more how, she'd stayed away. God, had she always missed him this badly?

"What are you doing here?" [Y/N] asked, finally breaking the hug though somewhat reluctantly.

"Well, the shop's back up and running so I'm living down the street again. It's my day off though so I'm out scoping for new ideas." He said smiling. "But what about you? I haven't seen you in years now suddenly you're here, what gives [Y/L/N]?" He playfully pushed her shoulder.

"I'm shopping. No better place to after all" the girl winked.

Laughing he kept looking at her like she'd come back from the dead. Though given the way she had disappeared after the Battle I guess to him it was like she had.

"Merlin, there's so many questions on my mind right now. Just...oh God, how have you been? Where Have you been!?" His eyes were searching her face. For what, she didn't know.

"Oh ah...well I mean, I've been okay. I moved back home after...everything." her expression was solem at the memory of the war. His, sympathetic and understanding.

"Ya know" he took a step closer to his old friend "last I checked that 'home' you always talked about was in a different bloody country! So you obviously aren't here just 'shopping'." She was unable to control the blush which spread across her features, brought on by the mischief he had painted over his face, trying to goad the truth from her. She bit her lip trying to hold back a smile. Damn that Weasley charm!

"So, come on, don't keep me hanging here. What have you been up to?"

"Well actually I ah..."

"MUM!"

Both turned in the direction of the call from a young boy, one with incredible [Y/E/C] eyes and firey red hair.

"MUM! did you see they have the new Windbreak on display in Quality Quidditch Supplies!?"

"No, I didn't sweety" she could feel Georges eyes on the both of them but was too scared to face him. Knowing the question that was going to be on his face when she did.

"Can I go to the Magical Menagerie now to pick my Owl?"

"Of course. I'll meet you there shortly, be safe."

The boy hurried off through the busy crowd once more. Disappearing from sight.

[Y/N] turned slowly back to see George staring after her son. Mouth agape, twitching slightly as he tries to find the words to say something. Anything. It can't be? He looked so much like...surely that's not...

"George?" She asked tentatively reaching slowly to touch his arm.

He shook his head trying to break free of his trance.

"So you're ah...you're a mother. Wow that's...how old is he?" He turned his gaze to hers.

Heart beating fast in her chest a tightness formed in her throat.

Offering a weak smile as her eyes start to turn red she replied, "He'll be 11 in a few short months. He just received his Hogwarts letter."

"Wow that's..." the pieces were falling into place behind his eyes as he looks back to where the young boy had ran off. "11?" He turns back to the mother, disbelief and a little anger evident all through his expression.

"George..." she took a step toward him but he moved away from the touch.

"[Y/N], tell me he's not..."

Tears were filling her eyes now as she noticed his had begun to turn just as red. Fighting back tears. He knows the answer, aside from the eyes, he was the spitting image of his father. Of himself. But he still needs to ask.

"He is, George." Tears finally spilling over and rolling down her cheek she watched him, chest aching at the confession.

"11 years and you never thought to tell us? You never thought I'd...that'd we'd...for Merlin's sake, [Y/N]! He's.." over come with emotion George's breathing had become rapid. He's angry and panicking he keeps looking between her and where the boy ran to. He's crying, running his hands frantically through his hair as he desperately tries to make some sense of this situation. 11 years. For 11 years he's had a nephew. For 11 years she hid the truth from his family. For 11 years she hid the last remaining part of Fred from them. From him. How can he begin to process this?

"George, please, I'm so sorry I didn't...I couldn't..." she were clinging to any excuse that rushed through her head. Fighting for a reason good enough to justify the decision not to tell anyone, but she couldn't. She knew she was wrong, and now could see just how badly, it was all over George. In his tears and the whites of his knuckles and the emotion fighting on his breath. She'd never even been able to convince herself after more than a decade of arguing between heart and mind. So how could she possibly convince him now?

"I'm sorry, I panicked! I thought it was the right thing at the time!" Not a lie, but definitely not a good enough defence.

"The war was over, Fred was gone and I found out I was pregnant only a week later. What was I supposed to do!?"

"You were supposed to trust us!" George was nothing but angry now. He was looking at her with such rage in his eyes it terrified her. He began shouting as he approached. [Y/N] was shaking and walking backwards.

"You were supposed to know that we're family! We always had been, even before you had his baby. We would have helped you. Cared for you. Cared for him! I mean for Gods sake [Y/N] he's the only piece of Fred left on this fucking planet and you hid him from us!"

"George please, I'm so sorry just...just please stop yelling." Her hands were out in defence as she gazed over to the group of passers by whom had stopped to view the scene currently unfolding before them. People were watching, silently asking if she needed help. He looked around, realising he needed to calm himself. She grabbed his hand as he looked away, trying to control his breathing. She'd never seen George so upset. He was usually the most understanding and level-headed of the pair. This side of him scared her, and she hated herself for bringing it out from him.

"Hey..." she spoke, barely in a whisper, reaching to stroke the arm of his hand which she were holding.

"What's his name" George interrupted, still not daring to look to her.

She smiled softly.

"His name's Marcos. From-"

"Your uncle." George nodded. "The one who raised you. I remember him." A strain was evident in his voice as he tried to move the conversation forward without losing his temper.

"He has a middle name." [Y/N] blurted out. "He ah...he has a middle name."

He finally looked down at her. His mouth clamped so tight it was a thin line. "Mmhmm. Yeah, alright. What is it?"

"It's George." She smiled at him. "It was Fred's idea. He used to joke about us getting married and growing old. Whenever he spoke about children there was one name that always came back to him. He said he wanted to name one after you..." he was crying again, head bowed while silent sad laughter shook through his shoulders. She moved to stand infront of him. One hand gently stroking the side of his cheek as his hands traced circles on her arms. "He said it'd drive your Mum mad, having two of you around the house, and thought that was exactly the way it should be." He laughed and they embraced each other, Georges head resting against the crook of her neck.

"I'm so sorry George. I should never have kept any of this from you. From your family."

"Our family" he corrected. "You're apart of us too. Just like he is." He finished standing straight once again but never letting go completely.

"I promise I'll tell everyone. I'll do it tomorrow. I should never have kept him from you. Nor you from him. I was stupid to think I was alone in this. I know you're all what's best for him. And I'm going to mend my mistake. I don't expect anyone to greet me with open arms. And I know this will take time to win you all back, but it's the right thing to do."

George was looking with nothing but cherish in his eyes. He was devastated yes, to say the least. But he had to look past that now. He had his best friend back, and what's more, he has a nephew! He is an Uncle! And he had 11 years worth of pranks and mischief to make up for, he wasn't about to waste a second.

"Can I meet him" he asked, trying not to sound as eager as he was feeling.

"Of course."

"The menagerie wasn't it? He was going to?" He said as they began walking.

"Oh, yes but there's not a chance in the world that's where he's gone." She smiled knowingly. George furrowed his brows at the comment. [Y/N] led him on through the crowds in Diagon Alley. Past the Broom store, past Olivanders, past the Magical Menagerie. All the way down to the bright and lively store of number 93, Weasley Wizard Wheezes. George began to laugh.

"You're not serious?"

"It's safe to say he has inherited his Father, and Uncles talent for mischief." She winked opening the door.

The store was crowded, but she knew him better than anyone and knew exactly where he'd be.

"Your store is his favourite you know?"

George smiled trying to see over the crowd of people within the store to catch a glimpse of him.

"His favourite section..." she pointed over her shoulder with a grin. "...fireworks." grasping his hand and pulling George along behind her.

True to form, that's exactly where he was. Startled by his Mothers sudden appearance, and the stern smiling expression on her face the boy hid two boxes, of what no doubt were the biggest and most uncontanable fireworks the Twins had created, behind his back feigning innocence.

"Oh! Mum! I ahhhh...I'm glad you found me, you see I couldn't seem to find the menagerie and I got a bit lost amongst all the people so I ahhh...i just sort of ducked in here to ummm"

"Save it, Marcos." She raised her hand and chuckled. George was beaming, he was just like Fred, although hadn't quiet perfected his lying ability yet. At the moment it was about as strong as his mothers...aka patheticly weak.

[Y/N] crouched down in front of him and Marcos let his hands fall by his sides as he bowed his head in defeat "I'm done for aren't I?"

"Not this time", Marcos head rocketed up to stare awestruck into her eyes. Surely he hadn't heard that properly?

"Marc, I'd like to introduce you to someone...the man I was talking to earlier."

The boy looked up behind his mother and his eye's widened. "You're the owner of the store! I hadn't realised before not with...you know, you not being near that giant bust of yours out front..." George laughed. "But Mum...how ever do you know him!?" He was near shaking with excitement as he stared back at his mother.

"Well sweety, there's-" she was interrupted as a small group of people entered the firework section.

"Perhaps you'd like to do this upstairs [Y/N], away from interruptions that is" George whispered in her ear. "We can use the flat" he said standing back against the wall he'd leaned on when they'd entered.

"Yes that would be best I think. Come on Marc, just follow George alright." Marcos was becoming increasingly worrisome. This whole scene screamed seriousness. Something he didn't care for at all, he much preferred to stay joking and happy. Another trait he'd unknowingly inherited from his Father.

They climbed the winding stairs of the Twins store into the flat where George shut the door behind them.

"Make yourself comfortable" he ushered towards the couch. "Anything to drink?" "No thank you, George" "how bout for you little man?" "Can I have a fire whiskey?" George laughed as [Y/N] looked sternly at her son. "Nevermind. I'm all good." He slouched down into the couch cushions.

Resuming her position from earlier the Mother kneeled before her son, and grasped his hands in hers whilst George stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets behind them. Head hung slightly.

"As I was saying, there's something I've needed to tell you. Something I should never have kept from you in the first place and it's time you knew." She took a deep breath. "George here well...we went to school together. We were very close."

"Well, what happened?" Marcos asked confusedly. "You hardly ever mention your school days." "I know. And you see...you remember the story I told you when you asked about your Father, Marc?" George became suddenly more alert, he hadn't thought about what she had told him during all of this...he sat on a neighbouring armchair, listening intently.

"You told me he died in the War, as a hero. Saving people." George felt his eyes sting with fresh tears but fought to control himself.

"That's right, honey, and it's true. Your Daddy died a very brave, strong, man. He helped save so many people."

"So what's this got to do with me meeting George?" He asked.

"Well...George here was your Daddy's brother. His twin."

"Really!?" Marcos asked excitedly. "I have an uncle?" He smiled at George.

"Well, more than one." George smirked with a raised brow.

"There's more?" Marcos was on the edge of his seat now "how many more?"

"At least 5." "Woah!" "You also have 3 aunts" George added. "Why haven't I met them? Can we go now!?" Marcos stood enthusiastically looking between the two adults. He was truly a fearless young man. That which his Mother adored.

"Uh no, not right now Marc but I'm hoping" she glanced at George, "sometime this week." "Definitely." He smiled. "So you're what my dad looked like? Mum doesn't have any photos, they were all burned in a house fire." "Well, pretty much, minus an ear of course." He said pointing to his wound.

"Wicked!" He smiled "how'd it happen!?" Marcos was cross legged on Georges coffee table sitting eagerly infront of his newly discovered Uncle. "Marc, that's rude, you can't just ask -" "it's okay, [Y/N]. Really. And I'll be happy to tell you. Everything." George was leaning in nearly as excited as his nephew. "Can you tell me all about Dad?" He asked with a cautious expression. "Like I'd leave him out" he scowled jokingly. [Y/N] had tears in her eyes. Seeing them so happy she couldn't believe that after the War she ran. How could one keep George from him?

Distracted by her own thoughts she hadn't realised her son was patiently waiting an answer to a question he'd asked. "Sorry?" "I said, can I stay with Uncle George tonight?" "Oh..." she looked at George who had the same pleading expression on his face as her son. "Only if it's okay with-" "of course it is!" George stood with a clap of his hands. Marcos was beaming once more at his uncle. "Well then I guess it's okay." The boys high fived excitedly and began to celebrate "BUT!" "here it comes" Marcos rolled his eyes and dropped his head. George looked between the pair slightly confused but ultimately he could guess what was coming.

"I want you on your BEST! behaviour. No mischief!" She scolded "I promise" Marcos pleaded. "See he promises" George wrapped an arm around Marc's shoulders as they both smiled. "The both of you!" She added "...oh." Georges mouth formed a thin line as he looked at [Y/N]. There goes 80% of his plans for the night. Although what she doesn't know wont really hurt her he thought with a smile.

After a while more talking, exchanging stories with George from school and hearing him talk about his newest inventions, as well as answering all questions Marcos had, [Y/N] had decided it was time to let the boys have their night together. Saying goodbye at the door she began yet another warning, having knew these boys too well. "And I mean it you two! Absolutely no! Mischief!" George put a hand on his heart and the other rested on Marcos back. "I solemnly swear" he winked.

Laughing she gave the boys a final hug and began desending the stores stairs when her ears were met with the sound of her sons celebratory cheers and the slap of a high five. Smiling she kept walking till met with the emptiness of Diagon Alley where only few people remained as stores were closing. Casting a loving look to the top window of number 93 she smiled. Everything was going to be okay. She stood contemplating for a moment when the unmistakable flash of fireworks issued from the window and her expression deadpanned. Hadn't been gone 5 minutes. She rolled her eyes. "It's harmless fun" she told herself, going to turn and continue on her way home when the sudden sound of glass breaking and sparks flying pulled her attention back to the top floor window which was now shattered as a firework whizzed down the dark street.

"Awesome!" Came her sons voice in celebration. "MARCOS! GEORGE!" She bellowed. Their heads poked immediately out from the window. [Y/N] threw her arms out wide, brows raised, silently asking the question...

The boys responded in sync "sorrrry Muuumm" "Sorrrry [Y/N/N]" rolling her eyes as she walked off, the firework still in view she laughed to herself.

"We're doomed."

Part II>>

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #fred weasley #George weasley x reader #george weasley/reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley #hp imagine #harry potter x reader

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 3 years

Text

Hello Sorrow [Chapter Fifteen] Shattered [Karl Heisenberg]

Tag list: @courtenbae @unlikelyllamanerd @mylani3110 @imtherain @wrr000 @frostbez

“What exactly is this place?”

Heisenberg hummed, peeking over his shoulder at Irina.

She was close behind him, walking through the maze-like tunnels on the third floor. Or wherever they were. Had they somehow ventured outside the factory? It appeared to Irina that Heisenberg had drilled through the mountainside; for whatever reason, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps he intended to expand the factory.

“I’m excavating for material; iron ore for steelmaking,” he explained.

Irina hummed. “I see.”

That explained how Heisenberg got the steel he needed to make some of the Soldats; he smelted the raw material mined from the earth; however, Irina imagined making steel took lots of time, and she had no idea how long he had been at this. His entire life, perhaps. That was a long time to hold a grudge.

Still, he must have been lonely. His cruelty towards humanity conceivably developed from the horror Miranda put him through and the fact he holed himself in the walls of the factory. Miranda deprived him of companionship; Irina wondered if he kept her around simply because he needed to vent.

“They move quick,” said man stated with a jaunty whistle.

Irina narrowed her eyes. “I’m surprised you can see well enough. This lighting is terrible.”

“The only direction to go is forward,” Heisenberg stated.

She hummed in annoyance and followed him further into the mines, ready to find the two boys and end the game.

In an open room, they came across a giant drill that lay abandoned, piercing the earth. Irina walked around it with ease as she trailed behind Heisenberg, but a noise caught her attention and made her stop.

What was it? The noise sounded close.

“Do you hear––”

Mihai suddenly tore from the shadows and swung a broken piece of rebar at Heisenberg, hitting him in the side.

“Go to hell, you fucking bastard,” he hissed, rearing back to strike him again – Heisenberg grunted in irritation.

Irina lurched forward to stop Mihai, but Luca came around her side and shoved her against the drill, bringing the knife Heisenberg stabbed him with above his head.

He was aiming to kill her.

She brought her arm up, but the blade ripped through the back of her hand; the tip emerged from her palm in a gruesome way. Irina cried out in pain and shoved Luca away from her; the blood made it easy for the knife to slip from his hand.

He looked upset for hurting her but attempted to attack Irina again. However, the rebar pierced his stomach, knocking him to the ground. Did Heisenberg do that? She didn’t turn around to look.

Instead, Irina dropped to her knees beside Luca. The rebar had pinned him to the ground; blood pooled around him.

His scared eyes met hers.

“W-why?”

Irina shook her head as tears stung her eyes. How was she supposed to answer his question? With the truth? Would he be devastated if she told him that he had to die because she wanted to live? That was too cruel.

“I promise you that your death won’t be in vain,” she uttered.

Luca sobbed. “I don’t want to die.”

Her heart shattered. She got up and hid around the side of the drill, attempting to catch her breath. Did she have a panic attack? What made her think that she could do this?

“Heisenberg,” she called out.

Said man grunted in annoyance and watched Mihai pass on before he answered her call, coming around the side of the drill. The knife in her hand caught his attention. He wasn’t aware that one of them had managed to stab Irina.

Heisenberg whistled. “What a mess.”

“T-take it out,” she ordered.

Grabbing her wrist, he grinned.

“This is going to hurt, princess.”

Irina was in too much pain to react.

Heisenberg took the handle of the knife and pulled it from her hand, grunting as she cried out. Her scream was horrific. Tears poured down her face. Damn, it looked like it hurt. Tearing her blouse, he draped it around the wound; the blood-soaked through in an instant.

“I need an herb,” Irina sobbed.

He ordered her to come along and led her back to the lift, taking her to his room where he made her sit on the bed as he rummaged through a cabinet for a bottle of First Aid Meds he kept stashed.

Once he found it, he twisted off the cap and returned to her side, taking her hand in his.

“W-wait. What is that?”

Heisenberg grunted. “It’s medicine, dumbass; better than those herbs you want.”

He shook the bottle. “You can read it if you want, but I assure you, the fluid in here will help.”

Irina nodded, grunting in pain. She trusted him enough.

Heisenberg tore the rag from her hand and poured the liquid onto the wound. It burned like a bitch, but moments later, the feeling ebbed away and became numb.

“That’s going to take some time to heal,” he declared, capping the bottle and tossing it into her lap.

Irina picked it up and inspected it.

Medicine that fully heals all wounds. Closes gashes and acts as a clotting agent while restoring function to damaged systems, the bottle read.

She snorted in disbelief. There was a puncture wound in her hand; Irina doubted that she’d be able to move her fingers without restrictions for a while. She gently wiped the blood from her arm, sighing in annoyance.

“Damn, he stuck you good,” Heisenberg teased.

She gave him a heated glare. “Go die.”

He snorted and sat down on the bed, bouncing her a bit. Glancing at her hand, he sighed. She wasn’t as durable as him. Sometimes he forgot.

“Are you going to make it, Irina?”

Irina snorted. “Are you worried about me?”

Heisenberg grunted and swatted her on the back. “Don’t fucking count on it.”

She sighed and leaned against his arm. “I feel like shit.”

“It’s for the best that you stay put next time or learn to defend yourself,” he stated as he nudged her off him.

Irina grunted. He had a point.

Perhaps the Duke was right to give her that gun. She needed protection. From who, though? Could she even call it protection? Luca stabbed her because she was hunting him. It wasn’t his fault. She murdered him.

Tears stung her eyes.

“I need time to process this,” she mentioned.

Heisenberg snorted and stood up with a grunt. “Take your time; I have work to do.”

Irina shook her head and watched as he sauntered from the room, leaving her alone. She leaned back on the bed and frowned.

What had she become? A liar? A murderer? Her lip quivered in regret. There was no way she could stomach watching another innocent person die in front of her. But what about her freedom?

Irina rolled over and screamed into the mattress, gripping the sheets between her fingers as she wept. Why was this so damn hard? Her mind was a mess. Wasn’t there a way to numb it?

She shook with sudden laughter. But why? Perhaps she was losing her mind. Irina took a deep breath and wiped her nose on her sleeve, staring at the fresh wound. It no longer hurt.

Funny, she thought.

The wound looked healed.

Irina narrowed her eyes. Something felt off to her. She decided to ignore it for now and rest. Damn was she exhausted.

#karl heisenberg #resident evil village #karl heisenberg x oc

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Smut

Chapter 6

******

Laughter sounds in the kitchen, the mix of yours and Carol’s filling the kitchen.

She leans against the counter across from you, sipping from a cup of coffee you’d made for her. And you sit on one of the few stools drinking tea with a new friend, Goose the cat, in your lap.

This morning you’d planned to just get a cup of tea and return to your room to read.

Finding Carol in the kitchen already changed that plan. The two of you started talking and she drew you in with even more exciting tales of space and the Air Force.

Much like the past few days you get wrapped up in how nice Carol is. Sure she’s a little sarcastic, and not so secretly cocky. But that’s definitely swept away by the fact that she’s very funny and friendly.

Goose purrs rhythmically as you pet him and listen to Carol talk about restoring a planet named Easik.

“Not to be nosey or anything but, how does your girlfriend feel about your space travels?” You maintain eye contact as you sip your tea.

Carol chuckles a little,“ she’s not really fond of all the time I spend away and she worries about the dangers out there. But she and her daughter always trust that I’ll get home safely. Plus I make up for it with cool stories and space gifts.”

“Ever the charmer Danvers.” You shake your head.

“Why thank you, I try.” The woman does an exaggerated bow.

Mid laugh, Goose stands up in your lap causing your hand to slide down his soft fur as he looks at the door.

Natasha steps through, clad in athletic wear and sporting a messy ponytail.

Subconsciously you find your gaze passing over the material of her pants that shape her legs and the tank top that shows off her toned arms.

Has she always been this hot or are you only just now noticing?

Thankfully the woman’s words pull you from your thoughts.

“Am I interrupting something?” She asks, walking behind Carol to the coffee pot.

Carol shakes her head,“ just Y/N telling me about her time at NYU.”

You’re quick to tell them,“ which was really just a lot of studying and sleep deprivation.”

“And crazy parties! You saw a guy jump from a roof into a pool of Jell-O. Which makes me wonder if you did too?” She tilts her head inquisitively.

“Of course not,” you finish off tour tea,“ but not because of the jump. I literally cringed at the idea of having Jell-O in places it shouldn’t be.”

The blonde is laughing again and you smile, almost proudly, at having gotten her to.

Natasha looks away so no one can see her roll her eyes.

“Ladies!”

The familiar voice of the one Mister Tony Stark hits your ears before he steps into view. He’s smiling at each of you in greeting and pointing at the cat that definitely wasn’t here the last time he was.

“T! What brings you by, again?” You return his smile sweetly.

“Oh I’m just here to cordially invite you all to mine and Pepper’s anniversary dinner Friday night. Figured getting out would do you some good since your social life is like watching paint dry.” He teases with a fake pout.

Standing from your stool, Goose leaping down from your lap at the same time, you speak to Tony,“ you know, the more time I spend with you the more I understand why Pepper needed to see me.”

Having said that, you leave out. Tony follows you and Goose pauses, looking from where you were to Carol, only to follow after you as well.

With you out of earshot, Carol turns to Natasha with a raised brow.“ I could be wrong here but, am I sensing that you’re interested in Y/N?”

“Of course not.” Natasha shoots the idea down quickly.

Too quickly.

Carol smirks,“ please. You came in here with every bit of jealousy in your tone.” She folds her arms and faces the red head fully,“ which is misplaced. I have a girlfriend.”

Natasha freezes at the information. It’s not a long pause but it’s noticeable enough, making Carol smile proudly.

She knows a crush when she sees one.

“It’s none of my concern who you or Y/N are dating.” She finally says, grip loosening on her cup as she leaves.

For the days that pass Natasha finds herself thinking more and more about what Carol said.

One thing Natasha knows is how to identify her feelings, but she’d only really encountered these feelings once before. With Bruce.

She felt differently with him than she did with Steve and Tony. The feelings scared her and when she decided to free fall into them, he pushed her away and left for more than two years.

That experience made her familiar with, wanting someone romantically. So when she began to feel that way towards you a mere few days after your second session she fought to push it away.

She’d be damned if she got hurt again, especially by someone claiming to want to help her.

And despite not wanting to be hurt, a part of her still wonders about you.

A part that she tries her hardest to ignore. So much so that she doesn’t go to your session the morning of Tony and Pepper’s anniversary.

You couldn’t lie and say you aren’t disappointed to not find her in your office when you got there. And even more disappointed the more time passed without her showing.

You consider going to find her, thinking that something must really be bothering her for her to not show up after all the progress she’d made. But you also considered that she could just be busy and decided that just this once you’d back off.

So, for the time being, you go over the files of the rest of the team, working on possible ways to make breakthroughs and just coping exercises in general.

Hours pass of this, you stopping only twice to get fresh tea and lunch. Until eventually you’re getting ready for the anniversary dinner.

After having received directions to the venue from Tony, you get ready to leave. Steve and Bucky offering you a ride and telling you that Natasha, Wanda, and Sam left already.

Light conversation flows between the three of you until you get there. Bucky parking and Steve getting out to open your door for you.

“Thanks.” You smile, hopping out of the SUV and walking beside them into the building.

It’s a lot simpler than you expected it to be. As simple as crystal chandeliers and champagne fountains can be.

While looking for Tony and Pepper, your eyes catch Natasha. She’s standing beside Wanda at the bar and looking more beautiful than you’d ever seen.

Something about the way that blue looks against her skin, the way the fabric of the dress clings to her curvy form, or perhaps the way her green eyes seem to stand out more than usual.

Has your eyesight changed in the last week? Why are you seeing her in a different light than before?

Whatever the case is, your watching her, has you tripping over your own feet.

Literally.

The only reason you don’t eat shit is because Bucky holds his arm out in front of you.

“Thanks.” You chuckle nervously hoping no one notices the flush of your cheeks, or what caused you to trip.

You gather yourself before heading over to wish the couple a happy anniversary. And of course it doesn’t take Tony long to make some sarcastic comment. In which Pepper shoos him away so the two of you can catch up.

All the while Morgan stands closely to her mother so you make sure to address her every once and a while, complimenting her dress and asking her about school(the girl is just as smart as her dad, at some point she’ll probably be smarter).

Soon enough dinner is served, you sitting with the team at one of the tables and listening to them talk.

It’s not until they open the dance floor that you see Carol. She comes in, effectively grabbing everyone’s attention.

The woman joins you, her eyes glancing back and forth from all of you to Tony and Pepper dancing.

“Awe man, I missed the food.” She half jokes, easing into the empty chair between you and Natasha.

You chuckle, shaking your head,“ I’m sure if you ask nicely, and stroke his ego a little, Tony’ll have them bring you something out.”

“Honey we both know I’d never.”

When you both laugh, Natasha pushes herself up and goes over to the bar, stepping around the person filled dance floor.

Your laughter dies, smile replaced by a frown.

Noticing this, Carol stands, offering a hand,“ dance with me?”

“Okay.”

On the dance floor, Carol’s arm glides across your lower back with ease, her other hand holding yours just level with your chests. You place your free hand on her shoulder.

The soft music that plays tells you that Tony had nothing to do with the selection tonight. Alongside that thought you notice that Carol’s a good dancer, cause she makes your uncoordinated self move easily.

“Is Natasha watching us?” She asks after a few steps.

Frowning, you look at the blonde, who’s eyes don’t meet yours. You let your gaze fall over the room, and find that Natasha is indeed watching you two. Only to look away when she meets your gaze.

“She was. Why?”

The woman’s chest shakes with a laugh,“ I think she likes you.”

That has you looking back over at the green eyed red head. Once again taking in how beautiful she looks.

Natasha likes you?

What had you done to get her to like you? Nothing. So why would she like you?

A frown masks your brows,“ why would you tell me that? Suppose I believed you and it wasn’t true, I’d look like a complete idiot if I did something about it.”

Carol leans back a little at that,“ you like Natasha?”

You flounder, mouth opening and closing stupidly as you think of a reply,“ no. She’s my patient and she tolerates me, at best.”

And she’s notebly the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. She’s godly beautiful in a human way. She’s, demi-godly beautiful? You aren’t sure that’s the right description but it’s what you think fits.

“What makes you think that?”

Breaking from your thoughts, you recall the interactions you had with Natasha in the beginning of your stay, or the lack there of. Followed by her barely even looking at you your first session.

At this point you and Carol have danced into a second song. You sigh and drop your head on to her shoulder.

“How often do you see me and Natasha talk? Like barely. The most we communicate is in my office where I am nothing but professional because if I’m not then I’d look like some bumbling idiot and that wouldn’t be helping her.”

Carol sighs,“ it’s not my place to say but, if you do have feelings for her, I think it would benefit you to tell her.”

You look up again, brown eyes staring back,“ did you miss the barely tolerates me part?”

“I find that hard to believe. You’re a very likeable person Y/N. Maybe it’s just her thoughts that are keeping her so distant.” She suggests.

The song comes to an end and you step away from her with a shake of your head,“ not to call you delusional, but I think you’ve seen things that aren’t there. I’m simply her therapist.”

As you turn to walk away Carol struggles to find something to say but she can’t. And your crestfallen face is heartbreaking.

That expression on your face completely debunks your claims at not liking the woman and Carol knows you only said it to convince yourself.

******

taglist: @username23345 @muffliat-o @aaron-despair @natasha-danvers @wildhoney32 @criminallyhamilton @fayhar @nat-km-mh

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #prove me wrong #reader insert

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joshslater · 4 years

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Weeding Out

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- Hey, I said I was sorry. You know I'm just pretending. - It still hurts. - No one hit you today. - That's not what I meant. - Don't be like that. You know why I have to do it. - Yea... No... Why do you have to do it? You're just scared they'll treat you like shit. - I'd... Fuck, I need to go to practice. We can talk later. Your place? - Yeah, I guess.

As soon as Ethan was out of earshot, Theo hit his school locker hard and thought "Fuck" really loudly. He too was late for practice, but not the kind where young males like Ethan run and compete and cooperate and sweat together on the field outside the school buildings. His practice was in the music room with the woodwind section of the school orchestra playing bassoon, or fagott as Ethan's teammates heckled him with.

It had all been so promising at the start. One evening when he was playing with Fred and they were talking shit on discord he had mentioned that he was at least bisexual. And if Fred knew, he had to be the one to tell Emma, so he did that first chance he could get, but that was it. He didn't want any coming out announcement or anything. No one ever came out straight, so why would he need any ceremony to declare his orientation. Besides, he wasn't sure what he was. Somehow this started the low-intensity rumor mill going, saying that he was gay. Perhaps it wasn't any of them starting the rumor somehow, but just a case of synchronicity. Doesn't really matter as nothing much came of it, except for some of the dudes in the football team started to bother him. Things like stopping him and asking him to punch one of them in their abs, and then of course returning the favor by punching Theo back. Nothing that ever truly physically hurt him, nothing that made him want to expose himself by talking to any of the teachers, but things that would cause trouble and delays nonetheless.

After about a month one of the jocks, Ethan, who he shared Chemistry and Physics with asked him if it was true about him being gay. Theo started with a defensive "I don't know", and as they talked all the way from school to halfway home, where their ways parted, it was clear they were at least both attracted to each other. To Theo this was a double win. Not only was Ethan hot, and had always been an OK guy as far as he knew, but the thought of a Nerd and a Jock couple was hot to him. Not that he really saw himself as a nerd. He considered himself pretty normal. But then he guessed Ethan probably saw himself as pretty normal, and probably saw Theo as a nerd.

They started meeting up at each other's houses, getting to know each other. They had spent hours in his room listening to classical music, and hours in Ethan's house watching ESPN. While Ethan was upfront about enjoying hiking, it took a month until he confessed to enjoying bird watching, and that was the real reason for the hikes. To Theo it just made him even cuter. They had been making out on more than one occasion but never taken the step to actually have sex. Theo felt that Ethan really wanted to go there. He on the other hand didn't want to do that until Ethan fessed up to liking him publicly. Outside of their respective rooms he wouldn't even touch Theo.

But then there was the bullying. It didn't stop just because he kissed their running back regularly. He even joined in sometimes, throwing his bag up a tree on one occasion. Though he did tell the guys to be gentle at one time. "Who would make my homework otherwise?"

Damn him! Theo wished he still had a locker to hit, but he was almost at the music room. He had bought the special weed the day after Ethan had said that, and then promptly decided to never think about it again. It would be wrong to use it. But they couldn't go on like this.

Music practice went lousy. He played the right notes, in the right order, at the right time, but his phrasing was way off. Playing more forcefully than written, often veering into staccato, his mind on the small box in his socks drawer. It was on his mind all the way home, and it was on his mind when Ethan pressed the doorbell.

They had been seeing each other long enough that Ethan could tell something was up. Theo looked tense, nervous even. Was this about the shit he was on about earlier? No, he was upset then, so he would be still upset now if he hadn't dropped that. This was something else going on. The reason became clear once he'd dropped his gear, and they reached Theo's room. He could see the spliff and the lighter on the desk. He himself had tried weed once before, at summer camp. Jace had brought some with him that he'd gotten from his elder brother. They were quite a few that shared it, so no one got very much, but he'd felt something. He was sure of it.

- Hey, I didn't expect this from you. Where did you get it? - You've tried it before, right? - Yeah, at camp.

Theo looked uncertain. Ethan suddenly knew he's role. Theo needed someone to guide him to his first blunt. He took charge and told Theo to lie down. The bed being too small for both of them, unless they did what Theo had been wanting them to do, they moved the pillows to the floor. Once Theo was lying down Ethan lit the blunt as he'd seen Jace do, and drew the first taste. He dared drawing the smoke deeper into his lungs than he had dared at camp. He lied down next to Theo, handed over the joint, and instructed him what to do. Time turned irrelevant, and walking back home he couldn't quite remember anything that happened after that. Had Theo's parents come home from work before he left? He couldn't recall.

It was still in the middle of the night when Ethan woke up, freezing, clammy, and as nauseated as he'd ever been. He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, just in time to empty his stomach into the toilet bowl. He had sweat beads on his forehead, all his muscles ached, and he could feel that weird feeling in the jaw, where the muscles relax to prepare for another vomit. He had barely thought the thought when another convulsion expelled more stomach contents. He rinsed his mouth, drank a few mugs of tap water, and made it all the way back to the bed when he felt he needed to go back to the bathroom for more.

That's where his mother found him sleeping a few hours later, head in the bowl. Once led back to his bed, a sick day was a quick decision, though he insisted she could still go to work. He knew how to heat soup, not that he was hungry. He was asleep again before she was out of the room.

He checked his phone clock as he woke up. It was only barely lunch, but the fever had passed and he felt much better. In fact, he felt completely restored, better than ever, except for a craving he didn't recognize. He jumped out of bed, lost his balance, but managed to catch the corner of the desk with his hands before he crashed into it. He put on some loose-fitting clothes. He thought he knew what the craving was, and headed out.

Theo made another attempt to step out of bed. If this was how bad it got for him, he could only imagine what Ethan had been going through. It was hard to stay focused, but he could tell it was working. He could feel himself being different somehow. As he held up his arm he could see changes when looking for them, but it took effort. Was it because the changes were so subtle or was it that his mind had changed so much that his new self didn't acknowledge the changes? He just hoped Ethan was affected according to plan, but saw no reason why he wouldn't. If anything he had been a more enthusiastic smoker than him, and so far everything had happened as promised. This last part of the plan was a bit of guesswork though. There would be an insatiable urge to fall into the stereotype, but he thought he knew Ethan good enough to work out what he would do.

As Theo got dressed he could feel how his body was different. It didn't look that different once he got clothes on, but before that there was a marked difference. His muscles were more defined, tighter in a way, and if he lifted his T-shirt there was a faint outline of a six-pack, something he had never had before. He didn't really care one way or the other though. As he passed through the kitchen there was a note on the countertop with instructions for how to heat lasagna. He wasn't hungry although the kitchen clock showed it was almost lunchtime, but he could feel another pull. There was a low hum of wanting to smoke another blunt. There really only was one place for someone like him to get it.

Ignoring the lasagna he instead went out the door, grabbed his bike, and started to ride towards the concrete plant up north. There's a weird feeling to be in a place at the wrong time. Just riding alongside the deserted houses in the middle of the day, when he was supposed to be in school somehow felt wrong. Then it felt right. He recognized this as some of the last reverberations of the magic from yesterday. He didn't know if it was actually magic, but somehow magic felt safer or cleaner than admitting having drugged Ethan and himself.

Some twenty minutes later he could hear the clacking and rolling sound coming from the park. The concrete plant had donated the skate park as a PR stunt they hoped would drive their sales of swimming pools. Making one smooth, curved concrete installation is basically the same as the other. Theo didn't really have a plan B in case he wouldn't find Ethan here, perhaps another side effect, but plan A turned out a success. There, next to the half-pipe section, Ethan was getting instructions from some older skater on how to make a drop.

Theo froze in shock at what he saw. Ethan wore the same clothes as yesterday, but everything else was different. His otherwise tight cropped hair was now inches of shaggy mess framing his much leaner looking face. He had definitely lost a lot of muscles, as the T-shirt that yesterday had shown off his chest and shoulders now hanged baggy as the rest of his clothes. While Theo had gained some muscles and lost some fat, Ethan had brutally been forced down to a similar build. Theo felt sick again, but in a worse way than this morning. It had been theoretical then, and a bit exciting, but looking at Ethan now he couldn't fathom them being friends, let alone together if he told the truth. That this was all his fault.

Ethan noticed Theo watching him from afar and lit up with a big smile. "Hey, watch this!" he shouted and did a shaky drop down the ramp, and continued to skate in a curve towards Theo. Much too fast and with too much force he slammed into Theo with a hug and a forceful kiss, while the skateboard continued further a bit until it hit a concrete step.

- Sorry, did I hurt you? What are you doing here? - What are you doing here yourself? - I had this crazy need for weed and though I should check out here. Matt there said he only deals to skaters, so I told him to show me. - You shouldn't... You don't know what you are dealing with. - And you do? You just had your first blunt. - You've only had two. That's not what I'm talking about. I am the

Theo didn't get the chance to say more as Ethan again kissed him on the mouth. Theo felt lost. On one hand he desperately wanted to come clean, to tell Ethan that all of this, their bodies, their reckless behavior, was because of the weed from yesterday. On the other hand he had never been hornier in his life. He wanted nothing more than for Ethan to continue what he was doing. He let his tongue quickly slip into Ethan's mouth. Ethan was quick to respond the same way, and soon it was more of an oral version of thumb wars than actual kissing. Or perhaps the best kissing ever.

- No, Ethan you must hear me out. This is important. - This is important too. - Are you aware of any changes in your body since yesterday. - Duh! Just look at this arm. I'm fucking track and field material now. - You sound pretty chill about it. - Isn't that how your magic weed is supposed to work? - My... you knew? - Just a guess, now that I see you changed too. I was that big of an ass, was I? - I didn't mean... - Relax, I'm not mad. I think this can be kind of cool. Is it permanent? - Should last about a month, and then slowly turn back over a month or two. Kinda. - I have one demand. - Demand? - We are having sex today.

This time it was Theo who kissed Ethan.

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ceruleanmusings · 4 years

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Charge | Weeping Monk & Squirrel

Summary - The monk’s eyes rose to the sky. Perhaps if he pleaded to His Grace for the strength not to throttle the boy and his petulant ways, that prayer would be heard.

Aka the Weeping Monk is basically a dad. Because I need more of these two in my life. Please reblog and let me know what you think!

Also on A03. | And FFN

“What is this?”

Squirrel, such a boisterous boy, didn’t hide his disdain when the Weeping Monk held out his fist towards him. His nose wrinkled in such a spectacular fashion; one would wonder if it were possible that it could ever be unstuck with the effort put behind it.

The Weeping Monk slowly blinked his eyes, lifting his chin to peer at the boy beneath his lashes. Even with an eye swollen nearly shut, the young boy looked up at him, holding a steady, stern gaze. The Weeping Monk pushed a breath out of his nose at the defiance. The young one was hurt and yet, all day, he never said word of how much he was in pain or if they needed to stop for a rest.

The plodded on through the day with barely a break, only stopping to allow the horse to restore its energy and to relieve themselves. Time was of the essence and they had to stay ahead, keep moving, and get safe. The fact that their once sought-after tracker was now who they could possibly be tracking wasn’t lost on him either. They had the advantage, but he knew not to underestimate people, lest their arrogance be shelved with arrows to the neck.

“Food,” the Weeping Monk all but grunted, shoving the handful he’d managed to scavenge towards him. The expression on Squirrel’s face softened but didn’t change together. “Eat,” he ordered, his voice hardening. Didn’t the boy understand? They needed to keep their energy up until they reached…wherever it was they were going. Meals prepared by gentle hands would be hard to come by. The open flame flickering nearby was for light purposes only. They couldn’t take the risk of leading anyone else to them.

Squirrel leaned forward and cupped his hands. The Weeping Monk deposited the little bit of food in his hands and turned, gathering his cloak to him. A spike of pain shot up through his side, wobbling his step. A hissing sigh seeped out from between his clenched teeth and he hobbled back over to the rocks he’d taken up residence beside. Squirrel sat atop a patch of soft grass, nestled beneath a large tree. Stars twinkled and poked through the thick canopy above.

The Weeping Monk eased himself down, gritting his teeth until he found some sort of a comfortable position. The rocks weren’t the softest bedding in the world, but it was better than nothing. Nearby flames crackled as they licked and burned up the pile of wood. The heat reached his feet, leaving a blanket of cold to cloak the rest of him. He hugged his cloak closer, breathing slowly. It would do.

“You’re still hurt.”

The Weeping Monk turned his battered face to the young boy, who chewed slowly but kept his eyes on the marked monk. “Yes,” he said.

Squirrel swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can’t you heal?”

The Weeping Monk stared back. His lips parted slightly, and his eyebrows lowered. Perhaps…he could have. Years ago. Back when he was…when he was a Fey. Back when he was Lancelot. Back when he wasn’t doomed to be damned and made into a tracker, a weapon, a monster.

“I don’t…” The Weeping Monk’s fingers twitched on the stiff threads of his cloak. Even if he tried, would anything happen? If His Grace couldn’t come to him when he needed Him most, when he needed reassurance and a path, how would his magic call to him? “I can’t…”

Nodding, Squirrel wiped his hands on the knees of his pants. He dragged the tip of his boot into the dirt and then tilted his head back, looking upwards. The monk mimicked him, tilting his head back against the rocks, closing his eyes.

“Why did you save me?”

The monk opened one eye. “Do you always speak this much?”

Squirrel nodded. “Mum says I babble more than a brook. Or…well…she did.”

The mention of his mother struck…something deep within him. A strange sort of niggle that pooled and burned, begging for attention. This boy, an orphan at the hands of his own deeds, spoke with an air of familiarity that would be frowned upon with the Red Paladins. With Father Carden. What a luxury he possessed, being able to speak freely without retribution and punishment waiting. The monk closed his eye once more. That niggle flared up again, rolling hard. It was quite uncomfortable. Much like the rock digging into his back.

“Get some sleep,” the monk rasped.

“But I’m not tired.”

The monk grunted. The audacity of this child. “That’s not of my concern. Sleep. We need to be up before dawn.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll keep watch.”

“Then we can trade. I can keep watch too.”

The monk lifted his head at this suggestion, pinning Squirrel with a hard stare and the swift, hard utterance of the word, “No.” This boy…. The monk would not allow it. He was to be a boy, as much as he could be anymore that is. As much as he would allow himself to be seen as one; a babe so young as him, his drive was admirable, but it could taken, twisted, and crushed. Left a mangled mess only to be molded and shaped into a form that the hands wanted. It was not a desirable fate for his sort. He would know.

Lancelot would know.

“Sleep. Now.” The monk pointed at the grass beneath Squirrel.

“Fine,” Squirrel huffed and, as he lay, the monk spotted his drooping eyes and the swell of his chest that predated a yawn. “But if I wake up, I’m staying up.”

The monk’s eyes rose to the sky. Perhaps if he pleaded to His Grace for the strength not to throttle the boy and his petulant ways, that prayer would be heard.

The fire crackled on. Crickets chirped and sang somewhere in the distance, overlapping with the soft nickering of his steed nearby. He watched as her form stomped on the grass below before easing herself down to lie for the night.

Limbs heavy and bones weary, the monk kept himself awake, aware, and alert. He didn’t have his two trusty swords on him anymore but that didn’t mean he was completely defenseless. The boy however, that was another story. The monk eyed the boy, head resting on his tucked arms, eyes closed in a peaceful slumber. His long lashes brushed his rounded cheeks and his mouth, slightly puckered and parted, allowed air to rustle the grass beneath him with each deep, sleep-filled breath.

A breeze rushed through the camp, bending the dancing flames and combing the top of the grass. Upon his green bed Squirrel’s body clenched, a tremor passing through him, and then eased a second later. The monk set his jaw as the cold seeped down his neck, a contrast to the warm burning against his body littered with wounds.

“Mmmm,” Squirrel mumbled in his sleep, drawing his knees closer to his body. The monk, sucking in a breath, braced his hands on the ground and forced himself up to his feet. A few of his wounds ripped open once more, he was sure. But the pain was pushed to the back of his mind as she shuffled over to the boy, towered over him, and then wrestled with his thick cloak. The cool air caressed his skin and for a few moments he stood, basking in the brief release from the thin layer of sweat and blood covering him.

His fingers curled in the dark fabric, his brittle and ragged nails catching for a moment and then he knelt and draped it over the boy. The minute he was clothed an arm reached out and Squirrel drew the cloak tighter around him. The muscles in his face eased once more and sleep drew him away.

Humming, the monk went back to his cold bed for the night. Dirt shifted beneath his unceremonious landing and a rock pressed against the lone bald spot on the back of his head as he settled in. It wasn’t the best but he could make do. He’d lived through worse, much worse. And Squirrel, he supposed, still had a chance for peace. Even if he took away a lot of it.

That niggle returned, and he briefly wondered if it was due to the little he had eaten before. Maybe it disagreed with his stomach. But when he looked over to the boy, to see if he was taking ill as well, it eased. Squirrel was fine, sleeping soundly.

And, in the shadows of the slow dying fire, of what could be attributed a trick of the light, his mouth pulled up in the corner, slightly so.

#weeping monk #the weeping monk #cursed netflix #netflix cursed #daniel sharman #squirrel cursed #squirrel #cursed ficlet #my writings

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carelessannie · 3 years

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Because I have no patience, here’s the first chapter of my three part Reverse Little Mermaid Winteriron AU

while we're devoting full time to floating chapter one: floating in a blue lagoon

Rating: T (for now) Word Count: 3.5K Relationships: Tony x Bucky, background Natasha x Wanda Warnings: Prejudice against Merpeople, Steve’s kind of an ass, boat violence, magic use Read on AO3

Chapter One | Chapter Two

---

Spring-time has broken— making way, quickly, for a blazing summer. Celebratory music carries from the interior of the city, echoing from the palace in the center all the way out to the surrounding villages, drawing citizens closer— like moths to a joyful flame. Heading in the opposite direction, unseen by guards and villagers, two silhouettes slip toward the shoreline.

Up ahead is an expansive boathouse, accessible only by royal decree and permission from the crown. Bucky lifts up on his toes to check through the window for officers or other sailors— no one in sight. His key easily unlocks the door and he holds it open for Alpine to sprint through.

Bucky pads across the dock, heading for his humble fishing boat and checking for guards, whistling low between his fingers to call his Border Collie to his side. Alpine comes bounding over, shaking out her pure white coat, and pants, eyes wide with excitement.

“Quiet, Alpine,” he hisses, motioning to stay low, “almost there, girl.”

Towards the end of the dock, he can see his boat. Restored over years of hard work, The Widow sits proudly at the end of the line, beckoning him to sail away. He helps Alpine climb inside and makes haste to cast off, pushing away from the dock and dipping his oars into the gentle waves.

The sun is hot, but Bucky doesn’t mind it. His gaze is locked ahead and his focus is sure. The waters are quiet as he rows out into the open ocean, letting the current push him parallel to the coastline and away from the village.

It’s not like he’s running away— no. He just knows his brother would stop him if he knew, and it’s far too close to migration to wait another day.

After a while, he sees the cove— his favorite spot, sheltered under a familiar rocky cliff— and steers towards it. Once he’s close, Bucky tethers the boat to a nearby boulder. He helps Alpine out and climbs up the jagged rocks, settling over the water.

Here he adjusts his covering and removes a few flat stones, revealing provisions he stored long ago in a discreet iron box. Bucky lays on his belly, wiggling until he can peak over the edge.

Then he waits.

It doesn’t take long. With lenses pressed to his face, his enhanced view picks up movement below. Three large figures, cutting gracefully through the crystal clear water, swim into focus. Bucky holds his breath, taking only a moment to scrawl a few details onto his journal pages. Remarkable.

He watches the Merpeople hesitantly explore the cove underneath and talk animatedly between each other. Bucky only hears snippets of conversations as they surface, and it seems like a dark haired, red-tailed Mer is their leader. The other two— the first with bright red hair, and the second with darker skin— follow the red-tailed Mer around the shallow waters, inspecting rocks and plant life, talking distractedly about a settlement nearby.

“These waters are clear, no remnants left from past colonies.”

Bucky knows this already. He’s been observing Mer migration patterns for years, and none of them ever stay long enough to impact the nearby ecosystems. Still, he jots down a note about their self awareness.

“Still, the access to resources and deeper waters is desirable in this area.”

This Bucky knows as well. Outside of the cove and the surrounding reef, there’s a steep drop off down into unexplored waters. He’s tried to swim down a few times, but hasn’t yet found the floor.

Finally the red-tailed Mer speaks, he voice deep and alluring, causing Bucky’s head to snap up in surprise—

“I’m sure the King would be thrilled to hear of this discovery,” he drawls, and something in his tone convinces Bucky that this King would decidedly not be pleased. “Take a few samples, keep them close. I’ll study them in my lab when we get back and present them to the King myself.”

Bucky has to stop himself from chuckling. He understands exactly how this Mer feels about his King, and he’s instantly endeared. He can’t, for the life of him, tear his gaze from the red-tailed Mer. The man is striking, beautiful and full of life, and Bucky has never seen one like him before. His body is lean and toned like most Mers tend to be, but something about his posture screams authority and importance. He sighs, knowing the three of them will probably move on, migrate further south and into warmer waters.

He pulls away to take a drink from his water flask and sees a flash in the corner of his eye. Something approaching— fast and dangerous. The Mers below are oblivious, and the next thing he knows, they’re being circled and cornered by three, large Tiger sharks.

Bucky gets to his knees, gripping the rocks as he watches the sharks close in, forcing the Mers to press together a few meters in front of the cove.

The largest shark attacks. It’s a flurry of motion and violent waters as the other two follow suit, converging on the Mers from all sides. It seems as though each Mer fights a single shark, and they draw vicious, serrated weapons to slice through the water.

But the Tiger sharks are quick. The largest one whips, lightning fast, and catches the red-tailed Mer in the chest, sending him careening into the rocky wall. The other two Mers are chased away. They dodge and swim through the shallow waters and disappear out of sight to avoid the close pursuing sharks. Bucky glances down, watching in horror as the largest shark closes in on his prey below.

The red-tailed Mer isn’t moving, and the shark is swimming closer. Bucky scrambles, picking up his own hunting knife, and stripping off his shirt and boots before diving off the cliff.

His attack takes the shark by surprise, and Bucky plunges into the water, striking clean and slicing through the predator. Blood pours out of the open wound and Bucky has to surface, gulping in air as he watches the shark retreat.

He sheaths his weapon and turns, looking for the injured Mer. Bucky dives down and sees him drifting against the rocky wall, propped up and unconscious. When Bucky gets closer he finds blood, fresh and urgent, seeping out of the Mer’s wound— dead center on his chest.

Without hesitating, Bucky pulls the Mer up to the surface. He swims, slowly but effectively, back to the cove and rests against the rocky shore, letting the vibrant tail hydrate in the water.

“Hey,” Bucky looks into the man’s face, gently pushing back a thick strand of dark hair, “wake up, please. C’mon, I need you to wake up.”

The wound is still bleeding, slower than before, but persistently trickling down into the pool of water.

“Okay, okay… dammit,” Bucky curses, “stay here,” he instructs, mostly for his own sake, and sprints out of the cove, climbing the rock face to retrieve his shirt and a few supplies. Herbs and spices can usually make a good potion, even for inexperienced users— which Bucky definitely isn’t . He rubs a few together in his hands as he ducks back into the cove, kneeling next to the unmoved Mer. Gently, so gently, Bucky presses his fingers against his skin to rub the potion into the wound, wrapping it tenderly with strips of his own shirt after.

The Mer groans, hunching in to protect the wound instinctively.

“No, darling, let me heal it,” Bucky begs, laying the man down again while he works. He looks around. It would help if there was...

Aha! A golden ring dangles from the Mer’s neck, a perfect vessel for a healing spell. Bucky slips the ring on his own finger, taking a deep breath before performing the spell. It’s taxing. It hurts. But Bucky can see the ring glow and flex on his finger, accepting the enchantment and waiting for it’s impending assignment.

The ring is laid back on the Mer’s chest, still attached with the delicate chain, and Bucky is satisfied when he sees the wounds rapidly closing. He sighs in relief, holding the Mers hand and feeling the delicate pulse even out. He wishes he could see the man’s eyes, at least once. Damn the King and his stupid laws.

Movement, stirring from the Mer, and Bucky knows he must go. He can’t help but lean closer, studying the breathtaking features of this man’s face and pressing a lingering kiss onto his temple, before withdrawing and racing for his boat. He whistles for Alpine to join him, and takes off for the village. He’s been away far too long, and the King is bound to have noticed his absence.

---

“Do you know what you have done?”

The King, his brother, is fuming— full of violent rage that even Bucky shys away from. He had pulled Bucky off his boat the moment he returned, ordering the guards to seize him and The Widow for crimes against the crown.

“And to see the Merpeople again, I should have known. How could you, Buck? Openly disregarding my decree and putting all of our people in jeopardy— for what? Research?”

“He was dying!”

“Better him than another one of us.”

Bucky recoils, “You don’t mean that. The Mers have always been peaceful—“

“And that’s because they are ignorant of our existence— dammit Buck! What if he had seen you?”

“He didn’t.”

“And he won’t.”

“What does that mean?” Bucky asks, daring to look his brother in the eye. All he finds is cool indifference.

“It means that until further notice, I’m confiscating your traveling privileges. You will serve in my court and retire to your chambers, guarded as to not leave the grounds— is that clear?”

“Steve, what the hell—“

“You may keep the company of your dog,” the King, his brother and best friend, sets his jaw and points towards Bucky’s beloved boat, “but as a consequence for disgracing your King and country, my guard will take care of your transportation.”

“No!” Bucky cries, fighting the strong hold on his arms as two members of the royal guard unceremoniously drop a torch into his boat, setting it on fire. “Damn you, Steve!”

They let him struggle, thrashing and yelling to no avail, and the crowd watches as his most prized possession is burned to ashes. Bucky falls to his knees, speechless.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the King retreat, walking out of sight without even the courtesy of a dismissal. His vision blurs red.

Steve never listens.

The guards haul him up by the armpits, but Bucky barely even notices. He lets himself be dragged away and led back to his quarters, collapsing onto his bed with a sob as they lock the doors behind him. He feels Alpine crawl up next to him, and he holds her close, soaking her fur with heaving, furious tears.

When the sun goes down, Bucky packs a bag. It’s not an issue to find a way out of the palace— he’s been doing that for years. The issue is tracking down his contact, making sure she still lives across the bay, and convincing her to help him. Her allegiance is strong with the King, but he thinks he might have the upperhand to a few of her debts.

Bucky drops a quick kiss to Alpine’s head, tying a note around her collar. It won’t help to have her starving and the kingdom torn apart in his absence, so he quickly charms the letter to sooth and calm it’s readers. That should give him enough time to evade any search and rescue.

From there, it’s a simple shimmy out the window, a well-timed jump across a few balconies, light-footed paces through empty streets, and then, thankfully, a straightforward hike out of the city. The sun has long since set. Bucky pushes forward, ignoring the increasing chill as he climbs in elevation— his destination is just up ahead.

Before he crosses into her wards, Bucky comes to a stop. He searches the ground for… yes! A small ring of stones lies around her cottage, strengthening her security and vigil over her land, and Bucky kneels in front of them, gently laying his fingers on the ones nearby. It only takes a moment of letting his walls down, power flowing down his arms and into his hands, and he smiles to feel a warm thrum in response. The wards accept his familiar presence, and he stands to make his way to the cottage that lies behind the tree covering.

“You had better have a good excuse to be here, James.”

He hears her greeting before he spots her in the doorframe, curves silhouette tantalizing and a stark contrast from the light within the house. He smiles, picking up his pace and running forward, “Oh, Nat. Damn, if it isn’t good to see you.”

Natasha lets him swing her up into his arms, but gives a stinging flick to his ear.

“I’ve already heard of your transgressions, James. When will you just accept your brother’s rule, and learn that his word is law?”

Bucky sweeps into the cottage and leads the way to her personal rooms. It seems as though someone else has been living in this space— there’s another, strong, trace of magic intertwined with Natasha’s. He ignores her implications and raises an eyebrow, “Who are you hosting, Nat?”

The grin Natasha throws him is downright feral, and Bucky almost regrets asking. She brings her fingers up to her lips and whistles, brief and sharp.

“Her name is Wanda, she will join us momentarily,” Natasha pours him herbal tea, gesturing for them to sit in the living space. He allows himself to put his bag down, but he lets himself fidget a little bit— cataloging his urgency to his friend and trusting her to pick up his unspoken needs. “Tell me, pretty Prince— why are you seeking me out after such drama, at this time of night?”

He frowns at her moniker, but decides to give it to her straight, “Steve’s bias has gotten out of hand. I witnessed an exploration party of three Mers out by my cove, and there was a shark attack. The leader of their party was knocked unconscious, so I intervened to stop the shark from killing him. I had to swim him to safety, Nat, and I enchanted his ring with a healing spell. I left before he could wake up, and when I got back…” Bucky breathes, breaking his eye contact with Natasha, “well, it sounds like you’ve heard the rest.”

Her face falls in a genuine show of regret, “I’m really sorry, James, I know how much—”

“It’s fine,” he cuts her off, “I just need help convincing Steve that Mers are worth protecting. He just sees them as a threat, and he hates their ignorance about us. He doesn’t trust it. But they’re incredible, Nat, honestly. And this one I saw today… damn.”

Her eyes gleam, mischievous, “Oh? You have a crush on the Mer you saved and healed with your magic— how surprising.”

“Shut it, Nat,” he hisses, rolling his eyes as she cackles, “I’ve never seen a man so beautiful in my life. And, I don’t know, something about how he spoke, his voice and his humor—”

“James, I hate you.”

“— excuse me?”

“I now owe Clint a very large sum because of you.”

When Bucky fails to react, Natasha just sighs, “He bet you’d fall in love with a Mer. I just didn’t think you were that stupid.”

“Hey! I’m not in love—”

“Sure, Jay,” she laughs, turning to face the back stairwell as Bucky throws a pillow at her, “oh! Wanda! Please, come in and meet James.”

Standing at the bottom of the staircase is a petite girl, maybe a few years younger than Bucky himself, with auburn hair that rivals Natasha’s in brilliance. He can feel her power from here. A shiver runs down his spine.

She’s careful to walk into the room, as though any sudden movement may set off a catalyst of magic strong enough to rip the room apart. And he honestly doesn’t doubt that could happen.

“This is Wanda,” Natasha introduces them, and Bucky reaches to take her tiny hand in greeting. She looks one part terrified, and another part… angry? She still shakes his hand and mumbles a pleasantry. He knows that if Steve were here, she would probably be arrested for insolence to the crown or something comparable.

“It’s nice to meet you, Wanda. You can call me Bucky, everyone besides Natasha does.”

The look on her face says she will most likely not be calling him Bucky.

“Well, why don’t you spend the night here, James?” Natasha asks, standing to her feet and gliding into the kitchen, “we have a spare room, and can talk strategy in the morning.”

“I’d rather—”

“I insist,” Natasha cuts him off. She pours him a glass of water and pushes it into his hand, “I’m going to sleep. You know where the guest room is.”

“Isn’t…” he awkwardly motions towards Wanda, confused about the sleeping arrangements until he sees the flush in Wanda’s cheeks, the salacious grin on Natasha’s face.

“You don’t worry about us, our arrangements work just fine. Get some rest, James,” and with that, Natasha disappears up the staircase with a small kiss to the top of Wanda’s head. To his surprise, Wanda doesn’t move a muscle. She’s still staring at him, and it starts to get uncomfortable as they sit in silence.

Bucky clears his throat, “So, how did you—”

“I can help you with your problem.”

He does a double take, “— get… uh, what? Which problem?”

Wanda takes a seat across from him, but her posture is anything but relaxed. It’s her facial expression that makes him freeze— not just anger and fear, but knowing. Understanding. He curses himself because instead of scaring him, the knowledge in her eyes draws him closer.

She tilts her head to the side, slightly, “With your Merpeople. And with your brother. I’ve seen the conflict and I witnessed the shark attack. I know how your heart thrums in time with this red-tailed Merman, and how you long for it to beat in time with your brother, the King.”

“How do you—”

“You assume Natasha told me, but rest assured, my power and devices stretch far beyond her secret spies. I have a deal to offer you, and in return, you will earn the ear of the King and the heart of the sea.”

Bucky gives her a suspicious eye, but in reality, his heart is pounding. This girl, barely old enough to inherit land, is offering him the depths of his desires. But he knows mages, understands their loopholes and caveats.

“Tell me, Wanda— what is your scheme? What would be my payment?”

“Simple,” she answers, gaze going distant, “I’d first give you access to the King of the sea. Through the Mer you saved, his only son, you will forge a treaty between land and ocean. I will give you a way in, but in turn, you will have to enter the same spell all Mers are under: to forget and lose humanity. You will still remember names and faces and stories, but all will be in a cloak of ignorance. Like them, you will have no knowledge of the world above.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “How am I supposed to forge a treaty between the two worlds if I can’t remember the one I’ve come from?”

“A royal alliance will break the spell. Marriage or covenant between the Prince of the land and Prince of the sea will not only break the cloak of ignorance on your mind, but also the ignorance of all who live in the Mer kingdom.”

His mind is racing. On one hand, he’s never easily put his trust in a strange mage, even one who seems to be… intimate with Natasha. On the other, he’s been looking for a way into the sea kingdom for years. Her spell could be the bridge that brings everything together.

“Oh, but there is one catch, James.”

“I knew it.”

“If you cannot get the Prince to fall in love and wed you, the enchantment on your memories will keep progressing. You will not only forget humanity, but you will completely forget yourself as well.”

“Does Natasha know you’re offering me this deal?”

“She knows we’re discussing it, yes.”

“How long would I have until my memories start to fade?” Bucky asks. He can’t believe he’s actually considering this.

Wanda seems to consider it, “No less than a month, no more than three.”

“So I’d give up my humanity, get this prince to fall in love with me, and break the spell over their kingdom. If I can’t do it, I’m lost to the sea forever— sound about right?”

Her mouth quirks up in a smile grin, “That’s about the gist of it.”

He thinks about Steve. About his life in the city— all the people who would miss him, and about Alpine and Natasha and even his royal guard. He thinks about the stunning, striking Mer from this afternoon. His ruby scales and cutting wit. Bucky desperately wants to see his eyes.

He looks down at his hands and sighs, straightening his back in determination.

From there, the decision isn’t hard.

#winteriron #Mer!tony #Mage!Bucky #tony x bucky #tony/bucky #fanfic #wip #bucky barnes #tony stark #King!Steve Rogers #kind of violent shark attack #magic use

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wings-flames-and-thirium · 4 years

Text

Cold Mornings and Hot Baths | Fatgum (Taishiro Toyomitsu)

A/N: This was requested by an anon some time ago. Thank you for requesting, I had fun writing it! I love me some domestic and steamy Fatgum! Ignore potential typos (and the fact that I accidentally deleted your ask after trying to upload this once already and failed) pls, I finished this at 6 in the morning. Still hope you'll enjoy it!

Warnings: nsfw, handjobs

The hot water hit your fingers and you smiled to yourself "Just perfect".

You passed by the living room, only to see your husband in the same position as he was since you two got up and out of bed. He was laying on the couch, hands buried in the oversized orange sweater he was wearing, blonde locks falling messily from around his forehead and his eyes staring bluntly at the TV in front of him. His chest rose up and down in steady breaths while he rested, his eyes barely open as he continued to stare. You could definitely see how tired and drained Fatgum was. Taishiro had to deal with some tough villains in the area lately, the frequent and often intense fights draining a lot of his energy. He was glad to take a break for just this one day to restore his energy and enjoy some time with you. Although you were used to seeing him in his frailer form, it still made your heart sink a little when you realized how much his job took a toll on him. However, that’s the reason why you decided to make this day worthwhile and spoil him as much as you could. After you two already spent the cold winter morning cuddled up warmly in your shared bed, you decided to give him a little special treatment to relax properly and prepare a hot bubble bath for him.

"Honey, would you come here for a moment?" you shouted out to your husband who was still on the couch. You quickly discarded the bathrobe, the only piece covering your body, when you heard his footsteps approaching.

"What is it, dear- Oh my....," his jaw hit the floor when he peeked into the bathroom, your naked body greeting him. You smiled warmly, taking your time to turn around so he could take in your body. Also taking the initial surprise moment to your advantage, you scooted closer to your husband, pulling down the zipper of his favourite orange hoodie. You moved your hands across his muscled chest, leaning up to reach and to let the hoodie pass down his broad shoulders. Taishiro gasped when your breasts brushed over his exposed chest, not daring to move.

You smile up at him once again, keeping the eye contact when you moved down, kissing his stomach and belly button before pulling down his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion

"You've worked so hard over the past days, honey," you took his hand and guided him towards the filled bathtub. Taishiro was still a bit lost for words but didn't need any more instructions. He stepped into the hot, bubble-filled tub, sighing deeply when the hot water reached his sore muscles. You wasted no time climbing into the bathtub with him, sitting down behind him, and tugging on his shoulders, signaling him to lean back, which he did without hesitation. It was a bit of an odd position as always, given that he was a lot larger than you, even in his frailer form, but he still enjoyed the way his chest pressed up against his back. And with you pressing delicate kisses along his shoulders and back, he couldn't help but let out another long sigh. You took this as an initiative to move further and used your hands to slowly start massaging his muscles.

Your hands felt so perfect against his skin and Taishiro couldn’t help but let out a low moan as your hands trailed down further to move along his outer thighs. He let his head fall back against your shoulder as you rubbed his belly in slow circles, resuming to place kisses over his face.

“It’s only fair, to give my hard-working husband the treatment he deserves,” you whispered as you continued your pets and strokes You could feel the last tension of his body wash away with how your hands roamed, the hot water only adding to this relaxing sensation. One of your hands moved underwater, from his belly down to his groin, fingers brushing lightly against his pubic hair and Taishiro sucked in a breath as your hand moved down even further down.

“Sweetie, you’re too good to me, sometimes,” Taishiro sighed and squinted as he could feel your fingers dancing along his growing erection.

It has been too long since the two of you could enjoy something like this and he was savouring every second of it. He had been too damn worked up from his job lately, but this. This is was just what he needed.

Despite the water being so hot against his skin, Taishiro couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine when he felt your hand wrap around his length as you purred into his ear, “Let me help you relax properly, honey”

Holding your husband close with one arm wrapped around his belly, you started to move your other slowly, dragging out each stroke teasingly, but sweet, with just the right amount of pressure. You haven’t been able to touch each other in such an intimate manner in a while, which made the experience even more wonderful for Taishiro. He tilted his head to kiss you, moaning into your plush lips when your hand moved a little faster, your thumb swiping over the sensitive head of his cock.

“Ah, fuck… I- I really needed that, sweetie,” he moaned, moving his lips back to kiss you even deeper, tongue darting out to lick along your bottom lip. You hummed in approval, granting him access to explore your mouth. Your tongues gilded against one other, hot puffs of hair escaping your lips in between steamy kisses. The grip on his length never once faltered, but you made sure to alter the speed from time to time, making it as enjoyable for your husband as possible within the tight space of the bathtub.

Watching him bucking his hips up into your touch while more moans fell from his lips was enough though to know that he enjoyed this just as much as you did. The water began to sway. Slowly at first, but then higher and faster, threatening to spill over the edge of the bathtub, but you couldn’t care less in this moment. Your lips moved from his face back down to his shoulder, nibbling along his skin as your thumb swept back up over his head, drawing a particular low growl out of his throat.

Taishiro’s mind was spinning. The sensation of the hot water paired with your body against his, your soft boobs rubbing up and down his sore back and your skilled hand stroking his cock at the most pleasurable pace. His mouth hung open and his eyes were closed, giving himself completely into the hot bliss that engulfed his entire body. Your movements kept drawing moan after moan from him, your hand speeding up a little more, when your mouth bit down on his neck.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetie” Taishiro wailed, his hips meeting your the movements of your hand now, desperately trying to create more friction.

Soon, Fatgum could feel a familiar warmth pooling in his lower abdomen and he gritted his teeth, trying to drag out his inevitable high just a little longer. He didn’t want this moment to end, but your hand made it challenging.

“Shit, keep goin’, sweetie, please, I’m almost there,” he cried out and you stroked up and down his length at an even more elevated and precise pace. He gasped as your other hand, which had been loosely wrapped around his belly, suddenly moved down to grab his balls, fondling them. A well timed stroke upwards combined with another swipe over the swollen head of his leaking cock, had Taishiro finally break. His back arched off your chest as he released into the water with a loud cry.

He slumped back against your chest after coming down from his incredibly intense high. He closed his eyes as his hot body tried to calm down. You moved your hands back up from underneath the water to massage his back and shoulders once again, taking one hand to also massage his scalp with as you watched your husband’s breathing slowly steady.

Taishiro broke the silence with moving up and turning around. He was now laying back down into the water with his belly, bruring his head cuddling into your chest.

“That was amazing. Thank you, sweetie. You definitely did help me relax,” he chuckled as he pushed himself up on his arms to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

Some of the water had spilled over the bath-tub, soaking the towels placed underneath, but you both honestly didn’t care. Not with Taishiro’s hands trailing lazily down your body before leaning his head on your chest again, hovering just above the water to snuggle into you comfortably.

#bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fatgum #fatgum x reader #fatgum smut

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wishingforatypewriter · 3 years

Text

Dream of Home

Note: Sort of written for Baavira Day under the prompt "Regrets" (but also late and kind of off topic)

Kuvira had thought to keep her mind off politics, as that was where all her trouble had really started—in newspapers and history books and the speeches of others who had hoped to bring change. She'd tried to fill her days with poetry and novels instead, and twirl on her tiptoes beneath the domes like the figure in a music box. Mindless and obedient, as Su had always wanted. But even that crude imitation of peace hadn't lasted long.

It had become something of a pattern lately; they came for advice and in return brought letters, clothing, small fragments of her former life. It was usually Korra who sought her counsel—sometimes Wu, or the new leader of some fledgling state.

It was both of them this time, the king and the avatar, asking for her thoughts on the protests cropping up in Ba Sing Se after the returning nobles tried to cast low-income workers out of the city center and restore the rings. They’d never be able to do it, of course; Baatar saw to that when he drew up the plans for the city’s reconstruction. But there was no doubt the nobility would come up with some new and creative way to oppress the poor without a strong hand to stop them.

She heard them out, read the statement the little king's advisors prepared and tore through it with red ink.

"There," she said, sliding the document back across the table. "Now at least they won't throw cabbages at you."

"You really do have a way with words, gumdrop," Wu said as he looked over the edits.

"Words aren't enough. If you want real peace, you need to put the nobles in their place."

"Legally," Korra added quickly.

He groaned, slumping down in his chair and Kuvira exchanged a tired glance with the avatar. At the very least, she didn't have to fly home with him.

"Isn't that what the Dai Li are for?" he whined. "Hey, whatever happened to those guys, anyway?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," Kuvira told him.

They picked her brain for about an hour—taxation, infrastructure, transportation—and then Korra drew a sheaf of letters out of her bag

"These were at your place in Ba Sing Se."

"Thanks."

Kuvira knew better than to open any in front of them. A handful of visits ago, Wu brought a garment box that had been waiting for her in an Upper Ring boutique—her wedding dress, finished at long last. It had been so unexpected, so soul-rending, that tears welled in her eyes at the sight of it. She would sooner scoop her eyes out of her skull than let something like that happen again.

That night, after they were long gone, Kuvira opened the letters in her room, one by one. A few messages from friends still in the capital—Shan, who she had served with on the metal guard, got engaged to one of Baatar’s university friends; Lian, who’d always had a soft spot for children, was sworn in as Minister of Education. Also, a note from a little girl at one of the bending schools she founded, and a request for an endorsement from an up and coming politician.

She had almost believed that she'd get through the stack mostly unscathed when she came across the inquiry—a wealthy buyer looking to purchase the city estate.

Kuvira still saw the house every time she closed her eyes—the gates that moved like elegant clockwork under the slightest push of her bending, the turtleduck pond in the shadow of a dance pavilion, the his and hers studies equidistant from the master suite. The idea of some other family living in the only home she'd ever loved stole the breath from her lungs. But then she remembered that it was no longer hers to sell or keep or yearn for through long nights under a starless platinum sky. From the original sketch of the design to the matter of buying land within the royal mile, it had always been Baatar's house.

The walk from her room to his stretched on for an eternity. She tried to give him space to heal from her, usually asking Huan to convey any messages she had, but this...this was too personal.

Baatar didn't look angry when he opened the door, just a bit surprised. A small step, but a step nonetheless. "Kuvira."

She handed him the letter, trying hard to keep the anguish off her face. “Korra brought this when she came by,” she explained as he read it over in the doorway. “Naturally, I won’t argue with whatever you decide to do.”

He looked at her and sighed. “You don’t have to worry. I’d never sell it.”

"Why would you assume I was worried?" Kuvira knew the question was ridiculous even as she asked it. During the days of the Empire, this man had been able to intuit her moods from the sound of pen strokes and micro-changes in her posture.

"The chandelier for one," he said, and sure enough there was a slight trembling in the silver fixture. Another person might have chalked it up to a breeze gone by, but he knew better.

"Damn it." The chandelier stilled as soon as she noticed, but Kuvira still wanted to kick herself for letting it happen.

"Come inside," he said, likely more out of habit than true intent. He’d never been able to leave her alone when she was feeling like that. It was a rare exception in her life, the way he always pulled her in where others pushed her away. But in the end, she’d managed to ruin that, too.

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to keep it for my sake,” she said, once the door was closed behind them.

“It isn’t just for your sake,” he said. “That house is the best thing I’ve ever designed, or it would be if not for—never mind.”

“What?” Kuvira asked.

He shook his head. “No, let’s not.”

“Baatar,” she said, slipping into a tone she hadn’t used since before Republic City.

“Alright, fine. I always hated that turtleduck pond.”

Kuvira’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked, remembering their many mornings spent sitting beside it, discussing infrastructure plans over breakfast and feeding the ducklings. “Why?”

He groaned. “It completely clashes with the architectural style of the house, and it’s symptomatic of that tacky kind of Agniphilia that’s plagued Earth Kingdom design since before the Hundred Year War. Li Na always said I murdered the house by adding it on.”

Kuvira felt her ears grow hot as he explained. She liked to think that her tastes had grown sophisticated over time, that she’d completely removed herself from her mother’s fake antiques and costume jewelry. “Then why would you even include it in the design?”

“You always talked about it when we were kids. A house of your own with a big library and a dance studio and turtleducks in the backyard,” he said, shaking his head. “At the time I cared less about the aesthetics than making you happy.”

Kuvira closed her eyes slowly, feeling a dangerous warmth pooling beneath the lids. She wouldn’t. She would not. Spirits, what was wrong with her lately?

“Thank you,” she said, finally. “For not selling it. And everything else.”

She slipped out of the room before she lost her composure entirely, and when she fell asleep that night in a lonely bed within a city that knew no stars, she dreamed of home.

#baavira #kuvira #baatar jr #legend of korra #baavira day #baavira day 2021 #regrets

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nothisis-ridiculous · 3 years

Text

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Six

Chapter Six: In Your Head, They are Fightin'

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"What defines life?"

The patter of rain against the metal hull made it sound far more impressive than the sprinkle that fell from the sky. It threatened to get darker and heavier with time, but Jane wasn't pressed to move any faster. The cold was pleasant to her throbbing head, offering at least some relief to that problem? Should she see the new medic? Yes. Would she? No.

"Your entire campaign against your destiny was to save the creatures of your cycle. So why reject the choice to synthesize?"

Jane placed her hand on the cold ground, staring at the veins that crossed over the metacarpals—observing the changes her gentle flexing made in the patterns, meekly tempting her brain to another task.

"Did the Geth not allow the Quarians to survive?"

Right, she had not considered how she had fucked the Quarian race. Was Rannoch a waste of time? Legion's loss just a pointless burden on her heart.

"EDI saved you and your crew countless times. Did she not deserve happiness?"

Joker. Being without her would have crushed him. They were so happy.

"It was an easy choice, a selfless one. The Galaxy could have lived in peace, thrived into a utopia beyond your imagining!"

A galaxy without her.

Without-

"You acted selfishly. Again. Williams. The Geth. EDI. All sacrificed for one. For the mere chance you might get to feel his embrace once more. How many others will never feel the embrace of the ones they love because of your actions? Because you thought yourself above them all."

It stung with white-hot intensity in her veins, burning and peeling through her blood and nervous system. Then, as quickly as it flared, followed the cold chill of nothing—absence from the blinding heat. Try as she would to reason against this vein of thought, she could not deny it. Her choice was selfish.

Kaidan had begged her not to leave him behind, the fibre of her soul knew that heartbreak. So many times she had been left behind, left as the last one standing. The Commander wouldn't do that to him, wouldn't let him be left with her loss once more. She didn't want to; between the three years they had known each other, they had spent a scant few weeks actively enjoying each other. It was nice. Mary needed that gentleness. Her life was little more than gunfire and blood without him.

Further down, in the depths of her consciousness, she would do anything for the chance to be with him again.

It made perfect sense that she stood alone again.

Karma is a bitch.

"I didn't want to believe the Lieutenant when he said you would be here," Silva tried to speak gently, but it still woke the human from her stupor, "I'm still amazed that the crucible managed to take these things down. One, sure. There must be hundreds, thousands..."

The human didn't respond, keeping her gaze firmly forward.

"Earth to Jane," no response, so Silva tried the physical approach with a claw on the shoulder, "Recruit, Human. Homo Sapien."

"Silva?"

"What's got you down? I don't know if it's the same for you soft species, but this wet sensation is no fun."

"It's nothing."

"It's always nothing."

"You sound like the LT," Jane gruffed, forcing herself up stiffly.

"Oh no, people are concerned about you!"

"Silva," her pitched heightened, "I'm not interested in- I'm not-"

The turian was frozen, her pupils narrowing.

The crunch of concrete pulled them from the moment, both watching as a trio of Krogan approached, led by the green crested jack ass. Jane pushed herself in front of the turian, meeting the Krogan head-on.

"Do Turians not keep their females locked away?" the krogan stepped into Jane's space, dwarfing her comparatively petite frame, " you would think they do. You never see them."

He huffed, nudging the human aside once she did not cower, "or do the cuttlebones hide them because they are ashamed of what they are breeding with?" The krogan touched the stiff turian, running a single digit down her petrified face.

"Shame they don't hide the phage-lucky krogan from the rest of us," Jane interrupted cooly, "I thought your species liked strength, not to be represented by a weak pyjak."

The alien whipped around, snarling at the offending human, charging at it with breakneck speed. She had no time to dodge, her back absorbing the blow as she ground into the Reaper's hull. At least the screaming was not her own, she felt a shocking amount of nothing. The first returning feeling was hope, hope that this would be her last fight. Her body refused to respond as it was flung to the ground, green's foot hurling for her unprotected skull.

It missed, thudding impotently to the right of her ear. Silva shrieked as she dislodged the Krogan, flailing against the creature as she attempted to grab for the sensitive spot on his crest. Her talons could function as a crude knife without another option to fight against her foe. The krogan's strength overcame the turian's surprise attack, but without a rolling dodge, the female's head ground beneath the male's heel—the crack of a mandible stirring the Commander's body into moving.

Mary charged with near full biotic force into the krogan, sending them both tumbling into an outstretched Reaper leg. The child's scream that erupted from it ignored in the rush of hormones screeching in her system and the sudden swirling of her vision. She wanted to go down, fighting with all her strength to keep her consciousness from slipping into the void. Blood dripped from her nose, the coppery taste in her mouth indicating an approximate amount. It wasn't the time to be weak she would hold on.

The krogan grinned pitifully.

In return, her face cracked against a hard elbow, warm blood pooling clouding her eyesight.

Luckily, Jane's scrap was finished. Rough claws pulled her from green crest, pushing her into the soft warmth of a human figure. Masculine shouting whirled with the tilting of her entire axis, her vision clearing in the sight of comforting whiskey-colored irises.

"Alen-"

"Jane," he finally breathed, trying to push the blood from her eyelids, "what the hell are you-"

The man's attention turned to the next group of onlookers to arrive to the party. Word traveled much faster with restored short-range communications; his grip tightened on his Recruit, keeping the teetering and fragile form from keeling over.

"Wrex, this is the last straw- we demand something be done!" A metallic voice rising above the rest. The angry turian pointing an accusing finger at the Krogan leader.

"The human attacked me first; your female joined in!" the defendant cried, "you just hate my kind."

"Shut your trap. Damned varren brained whelp," Wrex challenged the green crest, pushing the youth back to the ground, "what do I do? Throw out one of my own? I need every krogan for my people to survive."

"You krogan think of no one but yourselves! Your kind, like your subordinate, deserves what came to you," the turian leader returned.

"I could snap you open and slurp out your meat, Turian!" Wrex threatened, closing the distance between the two leaders.

"Fellows, could we-" Roy's relatively weak pleas fell to the wayside.

"Brutality, predictable."

Evelyn scrambled from behind the Reaper's derelict leg, rushing between the groups for those of her own kind. Pulling a moment of tension from the warring factions, each eye watched the child run to the Lieutenant, replacing Jane in his grasp. The woman stumbled toward the aliens, glancing up at the taller creatures beneath a veil of blood. Both too curious to stop her from wedging between them.

"Look at what we are becoming, fucking bickering old men. Are we going to let old prejudices do what the Reapers couldn't?" Jane's index finger pressed into Wrex's armour, "we have a chance to see a brighter future. Peace. Children. Why are we letting the little things divide us now? If we want that future to come faster, we have to survive now, we have to work together. Didn't the krogan help the turian's on Palaven? Let our children see us getting along, not be stunted by another conflict."

Jane proffered her hand to the fallen krogan.

He retaliated by bashing her skull.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

It wouldn't go answered; in the moment between Jane going out cold crashing to the ground and Wrex blasting the whelp point blank with a shotgun blast in the knee cap, the little girl bolted for the krogan. Slamming with all her might, meeting him forehead to forehead.

"Heh, this little one has the spirit of a Warlord." Wrex ignored how the child clutched at her forehead and the tears welling up in the corner of her eyes. The very adult swear going without punishment from her human guardian.

"This fighting dishonors Shepard," Grunt commented gently.

The Krogan leader nodded solemnly. The Turian bowed his head, and Roy's throat bobbed his head turned conveniently away for a brief moment.

"This 'krogan' dishonors Shepard," Wrex conceded, with the air quotes so quickly adopted from human culture, "you aren't worth the thermal clip. If you are seen within a click of this place again, I won't hesitate to let the Turian use you as target practice."

Green shell limped away.

"I think these terms should be acceptable," Silva peeped, throwing a stern glance at the Turian general.

"My men will be on the lookout if he returns," at the moment, he refused to immediately concede but retreated with his posse. Urging Silva along with them, she followed after Roy sent her along with a nod.

Wrex's gaze swept up to the old man, "you've got a handful with your young."

"I surely do, but I couldn't imagine having hundreds like you Krogan."

"Don't remind me," Wrex retorted with sudden dread, but a smile passed over his features, glancing at the human on the ground, "she reminds me of an old friend, always in the middle of a conflict. If they are anything alike, that one is trouble."

"She's proven to be worth it."

#fshenko #mass effect fancition #female shepard x kaidan #shenko #mass effect spoilers #fanfic #kaidan alenko #take me home

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gohyuck · 4 years

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hi, for the dreamie drabble game; jeno with 4, 8 and 6 please ^^

based off of this post

this is highkey a ficlet because it’s 1.7k words but whatever

okay i wanna expand this and make it a full fic with a lot more detail and timestamps but idk if anyone would ever want that so lmk if you do i guess?

4: college

8: childhood friends

6: “you used to joke calling me little brother but something changed and now you’re my girl.”

[february of 2019]

after being denied entry at not one but two frat parties (dismissed each time with ‘what kind of freshmen think they’re allowed in?’ and laughter that can only be described as mocking) your friends and you find yourselves back where you pre-gamed: the lobby of your residence hall. your RA has been turning a blind eye for quite some time (you mentally thank johnny for being the chillest person alive), allowing all of you to drink almost completely freely in your dorm’s common areas.

as you settle onto one of the beat up couches in the corner farthest away from the entrance, you can’t help but survey your surroundings. mark is getting his ass absolutely handed to him by donghyuck at the center pool table while renjun discreetly videotapes the debacle. you have a sneaking suspicion that he’ll edit it to death (you can envision it now - the camera zooming in on mark’s face after he accidentally hits the 8 ball in prematurely, colors fading to black and white as wasted swims across the screen in bold, brilliantly red letters) and post it on his growing youtube channel by tomorrow night. jaemin, ryujin, and chaeryeong are parked in front of the sole tv, hollering drunkenly at whatever game replay is flashing across the screen. yeji and chenle are bickering over something or the other - “a yellow hat? with that monstrosity of a jacket? are you out of your damn mind, zhong?” - and jisung, who, like chenle, is definitely still a high schooler, sits on his phone in a corner of the room, likely playing pubg.

even in a room full of the people you love most, however, your gaze ends up naturally falling on the person beside you - jeno, who pauses in whatever he’s doing (moving magazines off of the coffee table so he can put his feet on it) to send you a small smile that makes your heart beat out of your chest. he finishes up, setting his bottle of dos equis down on a haphazard stack of time mags before leaning back onto the couch, throwing one of his arms around you as he does. before you can say anything, he pulls you into his chest, pressing his lips to your temple.

you relax into his arms, knowing it’s exactly where you’re meant to be. frankly, you note, it’s a wonder that it wasn’t always like this.

[june of 2012]

you shift awkwardly on your feet as you wait. you chew on the inside of your cheek, you inspect your nails for dirt not once, not twice, but thrice. the door stays closed, though, and you wonder how long you have to stay before your mother calls you back.

after what feels like a true eternity, you sigh, finally giving up. just as you turn around, however, you hear the door fly open behind you, hitting a wall - or a person, you aren’t sure - with a resounding thwack that makes you wince on impulse. you turn around quickly, only to come face to face with a boy who’s wearing the most sheepish expression of all time.

“hi,” you say once you’ve regathered your wits, stepping forward to reach out your hand. “i’m (name), and i live right next door. i figured i should introduce myself, since you’re new.” a lie. your mom had noticed that your new neighbors seemed to have a kid around your age and had all but forced you to go talk to him. she seemed excited at the prospect of you making a new friend. you? you really couldn’t care less.

the boy smiles, taking your outstretched hand into his. he shakes it once, twice before letting go, and you find yourself smiling back before you can register your own reaction.

“i’m jeno,” he finally says, and a voice in the back of your mind tells you that this moment is important. you push it away. “it was nice to meet you,” he says politely, although not unkindly, and you recognize that neither of you have much else to say to each other. it isn’t an unpleasant end to the conversation, but, and you only realize this much, much later, it’s a reasonably pleasant beginning to the most important friendship of your life.

[april of 2015]

“so i went in and asked for extra credit and, surprisingly, he said y- jeno!” you reach across the table to smack your best friend’s hand away from your basket of french fries, only to hand him one of your precious fries yourself once he pouts at you. your friend felix snorts at your interaction, and you shoot him your best pissed-off glare you can muster.

“i can’t believe mr. kim really gave you extra credit, though. he’s usually kind of a hard ass.” somi brings your attention back to your story, and you nod in agreement.

“maybe he just likes (name),” jeno says, leaning across the food court table to finesse another one of your fries. “after all, who could dislike you?” he directs the last part at you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes even as you smile at him.

“you’re just saying that because you want more of my fries,” you state, pulling your tray towards you. your best friend furrows his brow at the growing space between him and his (your) potatoes, but before he can say anything, hyunjin beats him to it.

“we’ll be late to the movie if you two idiots keep flirting, so let’s get a move on, maybe?”

before you and jeno can protest, the rest of your friends are already getting up to go throw away the remnants of their lunches. you simply share a look with jeno that says everything you need to say before you both toss your trash away and move to join the rest of your” friends. as you all fall into step and chatter with each other, jeno throws his arms easily over your shoulder. you fall into his side embrace naturally.

neither of you notice the glances your friends throw at you from time to time.

[january of 2017]

“are you sure you and jeno aren’t a thing?”

somi has always been fairly blunt, and you suppose you can’t blame her for something that’s so inherent. still, you choke on air, forcing daehwi to smack you repeatedly on the back until your breathing pattern restores itself.

“god no, not at all,” you force out between wheezes. “he’s like - he’s like a little brother to me.”

“so i guess we live in alabama now-” she starts, but before she can finish her sentence, jeno drops his backpack down onto the seat next to you.

you turn around to greet him, only to be taken aback by just how pissed off he looks. in that moment, you decide it’s better if you leave him alone, though you do make sure to tell yourself to ask him about what’s bothering him after school. after all, he’s your ride home anyways.

“can you find someone else to drive you home today? i have errands to run.” jeno asks you, abruptly pulling you from your thoughts. his voice is low, slightly gruffer than usual. whatever it is must really, really have upset him.

“sure,” you say, shooting him a smile that’s - you hope - reassuring. he doesn’t return the expression, only nodding curtly before moving to pull his notebook out of his backpack. you turn away from him as well to face the board, although you find it hard for you to focus when the teacher starts to drone on and on about l’hospital’s rule.

you started the class period with no worries, and you’re going to end it with two: is your crush on jeno really that obvious? and, speaking of jeno, what’s bothering him so much? it can’t be you, can it?

[september of 2018]

“so that’s it, then?”

jeno’s voice is steady but as sharp as a knife, and if you weren’t so angry at him you’d stop pacing to ask him if he’s doing okay. unfortunately for both of you, however, you’re pissed. extremely pissed. at him.

“what’s it? huh? pray, tell me, what the fuck is it?”

“our friendship. it’s over, right? ever since you started hanging out with that prick yeonjun -”

“- he’s not a prick!”

“ever since you’ve started hanging out with him,” jeno continues. “you’ve had no time for me. none! i don’t care if you don’t like me back, but at the very least it would be cool if you made some goddamn time for me!” he slams his hands onto the frame of his bunk bed to emphasize his last point, but you don’t register the noise.

he likes you? jeno... likes you?

“you like me?” your voice is soft, a direct contrast to how jeno’d been speaking only moments earlier. he whips his head around to stare at you, and you see the realization of what he’s said dawn on him.

“fuck...” he murmurs, stepping back to lean against the ladder that’s build into his bed. you take the opportunity to step forward, your chest heaving as you try to let all of your anger go as you realize why jeno’s been acting the way he has.

“i’m not dating yeonjun, by the way,” you finally say once you’re directly in front of him. “how could i, when it’s always been you?”

[back to february of 2019]

“you know, it’s kind of crazy that we ended up together now, just within the last school year, after being best friends for all these years.” you say, looking up at your boyfriend. he raises an eyebrow back at you before leaning both of you over so he can grab his beer.

“yeah? and whose fault is that?”

“both of ours? duh?” you respond, though you know he’s only messing with you. still, he just laughs before throwing a reply back at you.

“you used to joke, calling me little brother, but something changed and now you’re my girl.” he emphasizes ‘something’ with just the right amount of pointedness, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“yeah, that something was me confessing to you, you idiot.”

“you only confessed because i told you i liked you first!” he exclaims, and you can’t help but giggle at his antics before craning your neck to press a kiss to his cheek. before jeno can capture your lips with his own, however, you hear someone mutter a ‘disgusting’ from somewhere above you.

you both look up only to come face-to-face with renjun’s video camera.

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