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porcalinecunt · 8 months

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𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗 — 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏

💀 KINKTOBER EVENT

🎧 𝐅𝐔𝐉𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐜𝐰 — sub!reader. soft dom!fujin. ftm!reader. body worship. slight use of powers. teasing. praise kink. some oral. general vanilla. perversion(?)

a/n: god i want fujin SO BAD (๑>◡<๑) i dont see much content of him here, but after some inspo on ao3, i HAD to write for him. sorry if this one isn’t as explicit as the other entries, im still getting to know his charecter and seeing what suits him best. otherwise, enjoy fujin likers! 🤍

He swore he’d never fall for a mortal, but the heart will always get what it wants, even in a god.

Warmth and affection were foreign to Fujin, the only companion he really had was Raiden, but even the lighting god was cold to his brother. Being Earthrealm’s protectors costs too much, including the chances of love.

Hence his confusion, when a meer human who’s curiosity got the better of him caught Fujin’s eye. He had no clue if he was amused at the man’s stupidity, or from how drop dead gorgeous he was.

It didn’t matter how many times he stressed it to himself that you were to be forgotten, to get out of his head. He had a whole realm to protect for crying out loud, yet he still found himself getting embarrassingly hard at the lewd images his mind created against his own will. He wanted to curse your name for being so naive, for lacking judgement when it came to crossing the God of Wind. But in the same breath, he found himself fawning over you.

After all, it was an accident. It was him that crossed into your quite, mist covered village within the depths of Earthrealm. He stepped onto your path when you were just returning after an early morning walk to pick from your fresh harvest, your skin dewy and flushed from the cold, wet air. Fujin immediately felt his heart pound, out of both shock and anxiety. However, it was your reaction that solidified the demi-god’s crush.

“I-I’m so sorry..! Am I disturbing you?”

Your gentle tone and worried gaze with eyes that laid on Fujin’s blade and crossbow, with a basket of white peached that still had droplets of water on them. However, Fujin’s mind couldn’t help itself from pointing out the very thing he was thinking about. It was your figure.

You were petite, so much smaller compared to the demi-god. Even through the loose yukata, the back of your neck was exposed thanks to your hair being tied up. Fujin touched his lips, wanting to lean closer and ravage your soft skin. Your smaller body looked delicate, enough for his head to fill with fantasies of you. If he could, he would’ve picked you up and fucked you silly against a tree. Watching the yukata fall off, exposing what hid underneath.

He could only stare, afraid that he startled you from his weapons that were blatantly visible to the naked eye. The silence was deafening, before he spoke up in a quite voice.

“Apologies, please, you first.” As he awkwardly stood to the side of the path, allowing you to pass him by without problems. He seemed to have gotten his feelings under control, but the wind suddenly betrayed him. Rather, revealed what he truly felt within. A sudden whoosh fell upon your ears, as a ribbon of wind wrapped itself against your flushed cheek. Almost like a hand touching it, it snuck under your ear till you felt it kiss your neck.

You turned around, giving the snow haired god one final look and an awkward wave before turning back to the village. Meanwhile, Fujin was practically flustered beyond belief. He knew you knew, and you did as well as him. However, he knew the rules too well. A relationship with a mortal would end in tragedy, constant berating from Raiden and the day you’d leave this world would forever leave an unsealable hole in his heart.

But it always, always, gets what it wants.

The demi-god’s hands roamed your chest, staring down at you while you couldn’t maintain eye contact with him. You were pressed between his larger body and the cold, wooden wall behind you. Fujin’s thick fingers crept up to your neck, gently persuading you to look at him. His eyes go wide and he had to hold back from ripping your hayori off right then and there. Your eyes were bright in the dim sunlight, every single imperfection on your face washed in the pink hue that spilled into your room.

He couldn’t hold himself back any longer, as he carried you off into bed and set you down on the edge. He tugged at your hayori till it fell off your shoulders, revealing your bare figure to him. Immediately, Fujin latched his mouth onto your neck, gently biting down on the soft flesh. Instinctively, you spread your legs and allowing him to sink between your thighs, his bulge couldn't be more obvious but he didn't care at that point. He trailed his lips down to your chest, reaching your taut nipples and went for one of them while his hand tweaked the other. The sharp contrast of his warm tongue against your nipple forced a mewl out of you, holding the back of his head with your fingers tangled into his loose hair.

"F-Fujin..ah..slow down.."

He looked up, half lidded white eyes filled with a carnal lust that hasn't been fulfilled in decades stare daggers into you. He crawled back up to press a soft and passionate kiss against your lips, all while he murmurs nothing but praise as he traced every curve and bone in your body.

"How did I have the strength to resist you, the nerve to turn away from an angel. My dear, you have driven me beyond insane..”

He whispered in his husky, low voice in your ear. All while his hands touched dangerously close to your throbbing cunt. Yet his movements were slow, almost treating you like a glass statue. It wasn’t driven by a need for a quick fuck, but a insatiable adoration of you. One that could never be extinguished by just one night of sex.

Fujin slipped his fingers through your lips, teasing your clit with his thumb while you gripped his wrist. His lips still remained glued against yours, drinking up your whines and muffled pleas for more. It no longer mattered to him that he was doing something so taboo, so inconvenient for him as a god. He was beyond infatuated with you, and he will prove it through the pleasure he invokes in you, treating you as if you were created by the Elder Gods themselves.

“Beautiful, beautiful my darling..just allow me to do all the work. Take good care of you like you deserved..”

🎧 this work belongs to @porcalinecunt. reblogs and feedback are appreciated. <3

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jormshands · 10 months

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Sanford character analysis no one asked for ❤️

Sanford is an odd one. His voice and tone doesn't really match with the personality he displays at times.

Out of him and Deimos, he seems to be the de facto leader, but only in specific scenarios. He is the one that thinks ahead more, the more observant one, the more quick to fall on a judgment one. Throughout the episodes, he is usually behind Deimos- who rushes past first, and scans for danger Deimos might have missed, however that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy causing pain. It is shown to be Deimos that takes the direct orders from Doc and plans with Sanford's assistance. In contrast to Hank and Dei (at least outwardly with dei) Sanford seems to actually feel pressure of getting the mission done, which is different from Hank's more lackadaisical determination as in wanting to get the job done but not getting worked up over it. In madcom 11, Sanford seems to reach a breaking point, he falls to his knees and screams in pain and frustration, going as far as to try and jump off of a pilar to kill himself. This displays he is the most in time with his emotions, though in fight mode, to grieve over deimos. Out of the bunch he actually feels emotions like an average person would.

However, in game he does show tendencies of optimism, such as, "maybe we'll get lucky," and often is the one to steer Deimos forward when he gets worked up. It could be argued to be more realism when a mag that happens to have an explosive on him appears, and how he informs Deimos "better hope we reach that shut off valve first" referring to the gestalt chasing them. He also uses some aspects of realism with the sheriff, berating him for acting so careless about the safety of the nexus, "If we don't put their soldier cloning and training program to an end, it's only a matter of time until we end up like every other dead citizen in this wretched place. You thinks that don't include you too?" He's not necessarily thinking he's saving the world and trying to get the sheriff to "join the good side" he's informing him that everyone will die including the sheriff and then there will be nothing left. He sees that as common knowledge.

In romp.fla, he was the more judgemental and assertive one in the new situation, the first to shoot, even startling Deimos into firing as well, showing Deimos looks to him for calls to action occasionally in situations of confusion. In shakedown he is absently critical of Hank and even Deimos to a certain degree. Once Hank completely misidentifies San with Dei, Sanford gets more short and clipped with them. Also in his stress he and Deimos have a rather passive aggressive conversation over the radio about the gestalt. Deimos is actively being chased by it and Sanford pressuring him to unlock a bridge for him to pass. He is plenty capable of doing things himself and is a decent thinker. He might not be at Deimos' level of fast thinking but he clearly can come up with unique ideas such as trying to blow the armor off of the riot guard when Hanks "just hit him" and Deimos' "make the robot hurt him" didn't work. He is the demolitionist expert and can work with bombs at a strikingly fast pace. He's even quick and agile enough to plant a c4 on an enemy's back.

He also took charge in the interrogation of the sheriff and his goons, barking out and being commanding and stern, "We're taking down the Nexus with or without your help...and we're happy to do this the hard way. Your choice," and "We have NO IDEA who that is. But you've got one second to get out of our way." Though he is capable of losing his temper towards the end, "What exactly do you think we're here to do, Sher? Shut you down or something? You and your little "operation" out here!?" He yells at the sheriff like the answer is blindingly clear. He also snaps at tricky almost immediately, but that could lead to him just being really fed up, "Make some sense, you mad clown bastard! What are you trying to tell us?!"

Also with his other half, he seems to have a lesser threshold than his partner does. As in what he can tolerate before getting miffed. "That's twice I had to climb over wreckage today. I'm over it." And What happens when we get to the top? I'm kind of done with all the surprises." It seems at first he's willing to dash in with his partner, but, being the most "human like" he eventually gets to a point where he wants to leave. This is pertaining to what's harming him. Not other people.

He also seems to have a bit of an ego on him. Many of his voice lines are him mocking, taunting, insulting other people or gassing himself up. This only happens when fighting which suggests he is quite a fan of maiming and killing. Even if you forgo the voice lines, his attitude and how he carries himself as this big tough guy are still there. In 7.5 he teases and taunts an atp soldat to come closer in a rather cocky manner, then proceeding to beat the soldat to death as well as taking a hostage and just beating them up when they already showed no resistance. People seem to forget he's also a wanted torturer, implying long and drawn out sessions and not quick merciful kills. In 5.5 after being thrown out of the building by tricky, he quickly and more eagerly than usual charges into battle while Deimos stays behind. He also has wiped his hook off to clean it on the bodies of his victims, displaying a complete lack of empathy for those he's killed. He's the one that speaks up most and the one that tries to put pieces together in game and will relay that information back to Deimos, who seemed overwhelmed in a new environment, asking questions and getting startled from time to time while Sanford doesn't seem to.

He seems to be more focused than Dei however in how he carries himself. He's often the one to drag Dei back to earth when he gets worked up, such as with Gil when Deimos was initially going to burst through the door until Sanford talked some sense into him "he's already dead", therefore actually making the headstrong Deimos submit to him and begrudgingly agree. He does seem to add some insight and wisdom to Dei as well, like knowing if deis recklessness and chiming in with "don't want to piss off the locals" and Deimos agrees, talking about his weapons and readiness to fight.

In the harchar streams, Hans cited that Sanford is more laid-back and "just looking out for his little friend" similar to how a "bodyguard" works. He seems to work well with teams as he seems more preoccupied on details than the big picture before him, something Deimos is the opposite of; he sees the big picture and forgoes little details at times. This seems to display a bit of a foil to Deimos, he keeps himself serious on the outside, but has an outgoing side inside while dei is vice versa. Including that, when Hank was fighting for his life with tricky, he and Deimos had decided to goof off in the rift, displaying some of his quirkiness and finding the ability to have fun during a massive mission. He also was a bit laid back with Deimos during the lift to the science tower, the two going back and forth about how old the nasty thing was. This leads me to believe that while he makes himself assertive and strong around others he's not all that close to, around Deimos or people he finds close he allows himself to be a bit more laid back and fun loving, displaying the parts of himself he keeps hidden. He only seems to let this side show when around Deimos and not really anyone else

#madcom #madness combat #madness combat headcanons #sanford madness combat #comissions open #open comissions

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alynnl · 1 year

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I’ve cleared the Forgotten Turnabout this morning. I have quite a few thoughts as always.

It was another one of those bittersweet and actually, very open endings.

Franziska is salty. Very salty that Edgeworth willingly turned in his prosecutor’s badge so he wouldn’t have to follow orders to turn over Kay immediately for arrest. This sort of rubbed me the wrong way because she does realize he didn’t have much of a choice, right? Edgeworth was backed into a corner.

Sebastian got totally broken down and he honestly didn’t deserve that. Yes, he was a brat, and very annoying. But for Blaise to constantly cut him down, to say “all the awards you got were the result of me bribing your teachers” and to call him an idiot without joking. To berate Sebastian for “not trying hard enough” when he was honestly giving his best effort. For him to know that Justine was just getting close to him to get to his dad. He ran off, and we never did find him. I wonder if he’ll ever recover from this!

Justine has apparently been a double agent this whole time, in some effort to finally get Blaise arrested because she suspected him of handing von Karma forged evidence 18 years ago in the IS-7 Incident. She not only used Sebastian but she also used Edgeworth in her schemes and even if she was sort of helpful towards the end of the case I’m not sure her actions leave a good taste in my mouth. She seems to care more about passing judgement in the name of the Goddess of Law than for the lives of people around her.

Then there’s Gumshoe. He is in utter shock that Edgeworth forfeited his prosecutor’s badge and hasn’t seen him face-to-face since then. It’s hard to know what this means. Was Gumshoe only loyal to Edgeworth as a prosecutor and not as a person? Or does he somehow blame himself for the way the situation spiraled out of control, leading to Edgeworth having to give up his badge and Kay possibly being arrested? (Maybe he didn’t want to be there to make the arrest himself or testify in a possible trial.)

I will honestly be sad if Gumshoe and Edgeworth don’t see each other again in the fifth and final case of Investigations 2 because they have been side-by-side in a lot of their cases. It’d be like separating Holmes and Watson from the Sherlock Holmes series, or Sam and Frodo from Lord of the Rings! To keep them apart permanently would be unthinkable!

But on the plus side...

Kay regained her memories! And it was because she got a hold of her promise book again, which was something she lost in a different case. In that book was the beginnings of who she is now as the Yatagarasu. It’s nice to see her usual fire back too. There’s also some clarity on what happened before she lost her memory.

Edgeworth is free! He still doesn’t have his badge because Blaise, the chairman of the PIC got arrested and so there can’t be another hearing about whether to bring him back as an official prosecutor any time soon. But at least he’s not in jail anymore. He gets to go home, and he’s determined to find the truth behind what really happened in the Grand Tower case, since arresting Blaise apparently wasn’t the end of it. He got a call from De Killer of all people informing him of this much.

I have to hand it to him, he is rather resilient. I’m just hoping the truth doesn’t put him in anymore danger but at least he’s aware of the power of friendship/teamwork and he will have support if he is in some sort of distress. He’s opening himself up to others, I’m happy for him.

There is only one more case left to wrap up the loose plot threads from the fourth case, along with any new twists that might come up along the way. I have looked at the “how long does it take to play all the cases” document and this finale will be a long runner at 8 hours, so I imagine there will be a lot of content packed in, interesting twists, and hopefully, if all goes well, an ending credits montage and a candid final photo.

I will take my time with this last case since I know it will be the last time I will see Edgeworth in a major role, and I will miss him when it comes time to play Ace Attorney 4-6.

#Lynn speaks #Lynn plays video games #long ramble under the cut #Lynn has too many feelings about video games #Ace Attorney: Investigations 2 ~ Prosecutor's Path #Miles Edgeworth #The Forgotten Turnabout #Blaise Debeste can get thrown from a window #He is the WORST #Justine is on thin ice but she released my dear Edgey from jail #Detective Gumshoe please come home #Sebastian let's get you to a therapist #Franziska maybe chill?

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

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Bring Me To Life

Summary: Kang Sujin has never had anyone to turn to, hiding behind a façade her entire life. Someone begins to peek behind the mask.

Author’s note: My two favorite characters in TB are Seojun and Sujin, both characters who are honestly treated like trash by the writers. I cannot begin to tell how upsetting it was to see Sujin’s character assassination or how painful it is to watch her being physically abused knowing that the writers will not give her therapy or a true happy ending. She’s just here to be beaten and vilified. Seojun, I won’t even rant everyone knows what the problem is (idk who told them we wanted to see Start-Up the high school edition.) So I wrote this after watching the most recent episode and hating most of it for these reasons. I don’t know how far it’ll go or how often I can update, but I need my two babies to have a happy ending preferably together because the visuals are just a dreammmm.

The rain crashes down loudly from aggrieved storm clouds bellowing above her in the sky, the chilled condensation plastering her thin satin pajamas to her trembling body. She had to get out, the pain in her cheek numbing and electrifying all at once.

How dare she tell him that she didn't want to get married, want to stand on her own two feet without a man giving her value?

His hand had flown across the room before she could sidestep the blow, the fragile glass filled with water in her hand- the very reason she'd left her room in the dead of night- shattering into jagged pieces as it collided with a greater force. Just like her.

She hadn't been trying to eavesdrop but it was hard not to hear him chuckling deeply on the phone, offering up his only child like she was an item on a menu.

"Yes we should set them up. It seems Suho isn't interested and she should marry young, that's when women are worth the most."

Nausea rolled like waves in the pits of her stomach and before she could think logically, her feet were sprinting into the living room, air barely filling her lungs as she stared at the man she'd never once thought of as a father. The last time she'd made the grave mistake of calling him daddy he'd smacked her so hard that was how she lost her first tooth. He'd been father ever since or Mr. Kang. She tried her best to avoid him at all cost, she would never be good enough and it was getting harder to hide the marks he left behind.

It was difficult to remember clearly what occurred seconds after her refusal to marry a man she didn't know left her lips, his fist connected and she was knocked back onto their coffee table the sharp edge cutting at her cheek. As she looked at him, anger painting his face a demonic red, fear crippled her and her hands twitched desperately wanting to wash them raw. Then he grabbed a thick marble ashtray from the table and her instincts took over and she was out the door, running as fast as she could, knowing her life was at stake and she couldn't afford to stop.

When the cloud in her head cleared that was when she found herself at the bus stop.

Judgmental whispers breeze by her ears as people passed by with umbrellas, shocked to see the young girl crying in her pajamas at the stop, but none stopped to offer her help or inquire about her situation, happy just to pass judgement. She ignores them all, panicking racing through her blood until she's unable to breathe, choking on nothing as she twitches in the harsh air. Her throat constricts as she screams at herself, breathe.

Breathe.

BREATHE!

But it's useless as her body shuts down, forgetting how to do the basic function, she sways as she starts to feel light headed from the lack of oxygen and with a final wheeze she collapses.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He signs as he weaves past cars moving far too slowly, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he marginally misses nipping a car to the left of him, easily dragging his motorcycle away with the fluid movements of his body. He glares up at the sky before cursing, "Fucking weather report didn't say anything about a sudden rainstorm." If he'd known he would have stayed home, always hating the rain. It brought back bad memories.

Halting at a red light, he puts his leg down for balance bouncing slightly in place. Pulling the shield up on his helmet he glances around, recognizing the area easily, before something in his peripheral catches his attention, a lump on the ground. Tilting his head he revs his trusty iron steed to live, riding over to the direction of the mysterious mass on the wet ground. As he gets closer his heart falters, it's too evident now.

It's a person.

Jumping off his bike and pushing out the kickstand he flings his helmet off, his hair immediately drenched under the downpour as he races over to help. As he nears the figure, it becomes clearer it's a woman wearing what looks like sleep clothes. Momentarily he wonders if this is a crazy person and if he should just mind his business but a frightening image of his little sister unconscious on the ground and no one coming to her aid flashes in his mind.

"I'll just check if she's breathing and call an ambulance. That's all, if she tries to attack me I'll just ride away." He takes a deep breath, collecting his courage before closing the gap between him and the unconscious woman.

Crouching beside her, he reaches out a hand hesitating before sighing and shaking at her cold shoulder. No response. He shakes harder now, watching the motion quake through her entire body, but still she is unresponsive.

"Hey! Hey! Are you okay? Wake up, you're scaring me!" He starts to jiggle her with both hands, before he crawls into her space not caring about his safety any longer, the idea that this unknown woman might be dead is making him nauseous. People are always dying without his permission. It's so frustrating.

"Wake up! Come on!" He shouts at the figure now holding both her shoulders and turning the woman over, lifting her face from its place on the ground, cradling her limp body in his lap. After two more vicious shakes, she starts to cough and groan in his arms. Relief swims through his veins as he watches her come back to life, anxiously watching as her dewy long lashes flutter open and he's caught in a lifeless deep gaze.

"Han Seo-Jun?"

It takes a long pause for him to register that the woman has said his name and then a longer moment to recognize who she is.

"Kang Su-Jin?" He replies in genuine shock, taking in the wom--young girl in his arms. She's shivering so violently that it's becoming difficult to hold onto her, vibrating out of his hold before he grips her tighter, whipping off his jacket without second thought and wrapping it around her. Goosebumps raising on his skin as his body mentally berates his lack of survival skills.

"What are you doing here?" She looks at him bewildered as if the stranger occurrence is his presence and not her own.

He squints his eyes looking back at her, "I could ask you the same thing. I found you unconscious here. I thought you were...." He trails off unable to utter the rest of his sentence.

"You should have left me here. Maybe I would have. If I was that lucky."

"What? Are you crazy, you want to die? Did you do this to yourself, what are you on?!" He roars at her, rage flooding his system as he shouts at the stupid girl, how dare she try to kill herself and leave her body for him to find? He wishes he had taken a different route, that he'd never come across her. He was in no state to comfort someone who was suicidal, still too raw and hurt. What was so hard about living that made people want to do that? Hot tears gather in his eyes as he abruptly pulls away from Sujin, unapologetic as she tumbles to the ground without his support.

She starts at him, stunned before righteous fury twists her features and she roars back at him.

"Who are you to judge me! I didn't ask you to help me, leave me alone!"

He glares back at her ready to yank his jacket away and run away from her but a small movement stops him, as she's screaming at him a small muscle twitches in her cheek bringing his attention to said cheek. It's nearly purple, standing out obscenely on her pale skin and then he notices the split lip and the bruises on her neck and he's so ashamed of himself he could bawl.

He deflates before speaking to her, "What happened to your face? Who did this to you?"

He doesn't know what kind of look he has on his face but before his questions can even settle between them she's sneering and twisting away from him, throwing his jacket on the ground before making her escape. Unprepared for her sudden departure he reacts too late, before chasing after her. It's easy to close the distance separating them with his long legs and within seconds she's merely inches in front of him, he reaches out a large hand to grab her wrist but hesitates recalling the bruises littering her frame. Instead he races past her, blocking her with his body swerving to the left and then the right when she tries to dodge him. They play this cat and mouse game before she finally gives up, glaring up at him with moist enraged eyes.

"Why do you care? We aren't even friends!"

Her piercing shout rings in his ears as he looks down at her passively. He can't answer that question, doesn't know what brought him to this area so late and not understanding why he was the one to find her in this condition. He doesn't know why he cares. But maybe things could have been different if Se-Yeon had someone to chase him. Maybe he'd still be alive...

So he answers her honestly.

"I don't want anymore people to die."

To his complete shock she starts to cry, tears falling rapidly from her eyes before she crumples to the ground, the rain pounding on her head and he stands still unsure of what to do before he drapes the jacket he'd rescued from the ground over her head, shielding her from most of the thunderous downpour. When she looks up to see the jacket protecting her, he almost falls backwards as her head slams into his chest, her tears simmering hot on his chilled body. It's almost painfully uncomfortable but he doesn't move away. Letting her cry on his chest, his shirt is soaked anyway this makes no difference.

He doesn't know how long they are crouched there on the ground, so dark that the sidewalk is completely devoid of anyone else, it feels like they are the only two people left on Earth.

"If we stay here you're going to get a cold."

He voices his concern but the only reply he receives is a gross sounding sniffle and he grimaces, knowing that his poor shirt is probably damaged beyond repair covered in snot and tears.

Sighing he starts to repeat himself before she whispers, "I don't have anywhere to go."

"I can take you home." Her fists tighten in his drenched shirt, he can practically feel the fear wafting off her, he'd assumed the marks on her face were from a possessive unhinged boyfriend but her reaction makes him uneasy. He tries to push those unpleasant thoughts to the corner.

"What about your friends? Why don't you call Su-ah or Ju-Kyung, I’m sure they’ll help you.”

She stiffens in his arms before shaking her head in decline.

"No. I can't let anyone else see me like this. I don't need them looking at me the way you did, like I'm a sad pitiful puppy. I never want anyone look at me like that again."

He can respect that, he never wants to appear weak in front of others. It was easier to become angry and lash out rather than showing your true heart, nobody could hurt you that way.

"Then what? Where do you want to go?"

"I have nowhere to go. I'll stay here until morning. I'll be fine, you can go."

He looks at her dumbfounded, what kind of man would leave a battered woman alone in the rain? He wasn't raised by animals, damn it.

"Let's go." He makes a point not to touch her, their only point of connection are her hands twisted in his shirt.

"What?"

He bulldozes past her confusion, looking at her with what he hopes are comforting eyes.

"I'm taking you to my house. I can't just leave you here."

"Are you crazy? Don't you live with your mother and sister, what will they say?"

He winces at the logical inquiry, he had already considered that himself, thinking of his mother's subsequent smacks and his sister's teasing once they learned what he'd done but still deciding that he has no other choice. He can't just leave her here.

He shrugs, "That's my problem to worry about. I'm not leaving you here, I'd really like to get out of his rain. Let's go." He repeats himself harder, pleading with her.

She looks away and he's prepared to throw her over his shoulders and face the consequences when he hears her response, "Okay. Let's go."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It's a quiet ride back, the engine rumbling through the aching bones of her frozen body. Han Seojun. The last person she ever expected to see after being roused from her panic induced collapse. Her arms tighten around his thin waist as he swerves around a car, adrenaline and fear battling for dominance in her body. When her fingers accidentally brush across wet bare skin she quickly moves her hands higher, fighting the embarrassment that washes over her.

If he notices she can't hear his reaction over the roar of the motorcycle.

When they finally pull up to a small apartment, she loosens her hold on him cracking her frozen digits.

"You didn't need to hold that tightly, I wasn't going to let anything happen to you. I ride this everyday you know."

She doesn't reply focusing on getting off the bike, swinging her leg over and hopping off not graceful but effective, a small proud smile spreads on her face before she gazes back at him.

He stares back before shaking his head, as if lost in a daze before he stomps off for her to follow.

Wordlessly she trails behind him, feeling foolish in her duck pajamas, a gift from Su-ah.

When he pushes his front door open, letting her in first she steps out of her sopping wet house slippers standing awkwardly looking around.

"Stay here. I'll get towels so we don't trail too much water."

She nods at his command, gazing at the floor and seeing how much water is already pooling around her feet.

"Here." He hands her a fluffy pink towel, she raises an eyebrow at the color.

"It's the guest towel. I wouldn't give you my towel."

That makes sense, sharing towels is far too intimate for the relationship they have. That being none.

She rapidly towels at her hair, before running the towel down her body and wrapping it around her waist.

"You can use the bathroom. It's the second door on the right. I'll bring you dry clothes."

She steps cross the doorway, finally entering his home. Before she turns back to him staring directly into his eyes, "Than.... You didn't have to do this." She loses her confidence but his answering smirk lets her know he understood enough, with that she walks to the bathroom locking herself inside.

The sight of her bruised face in the mirror makes her pause, reaching up to finger at the stark purple mark on her cheek. She's crying before she can control her emotions, tears dripping into the sink as she remembers her night, how close she was to the end despite what she said to Seojun she wanted to live. As her father stood above her ready to snuff her out like a mere nuisance in his life, she realized with a burning passion how desperately she wanted to live.

A soft knock drags her back to reality as she rapidly wipes her tears away.

"I'm leaving clothes by the door. You can come out whenever you're ready. I'm making tea."

When she hears the light steps of his feet moving away from the door she opens the door a crack, picking up the neatly folded pile of clothes. Sending the boy a mental thank you before closing the door quietly.

It's clear that these clothes belong to Seojun, draping off her body, too large for her frame, a black T-shirt with a microphone on the center and sweatpants that cover her feet as well, he'd even remembered to bring her socks. Instantly she feels her body warming as her body temperature returns to normal.

Folding her wet clothes and splashing water on her face then using the towel to rub it dry, she exits the bathroom walking towards the light she sees assuming that's the kitchen.

"The water's almost done boiling. Sit down."

His deep voice greets her as she follows his orders and takes a seat.

"Are these your clothes?"

"What? Oh yeah they're mine, sorry my sister locked her door. They're very old though, I haven't worn them in years I thought they would fit you better." He eyes her as he says the last sentence, "I guess it didn't make much of a difference I'm just too tall and manly for my own good."

She scoffs at his narcissistic comment rolling her eyes "Tall and manly my foot. You're so skinny I could probably pick you up with one arm."

He immediately turns at her comment, affronted look on his face, "Shut up! It's hard for me to put on weight, I'm not that skinny."

He places his hands on his hips, looking down at himself before puffing his chest out to make himself appear broader, it's so ridiculous that she can't control her reaction.

Sudden uncontrollable laughter.

She laughs breathlessly, folding onto her lap trying to contain her giggles but his scandalized look makes her laugh harder and she has to stuff her face in her elbow to prevent herself from waking his family.

After a few minutes of random spasms of laughter she finally peers back up at him.

He looks just like he did outside when she'd smiled after successively getting off his motorcycle.

"What? What are you looking at?"

"Nothing. I just never see you smile at school."

"Well you never do anything worth smiling about." She quips back, wondering if she'd gone too far but he doesn't reply beyond a slight smile that's gone too fast to even be titled that, he places her steaming cup of tea before her sipping at his own after blowing on it.

They drink in comfortable silence.

She's the first to rapture the silence, "I don't need pity."

"I don't pity yo--"

"But thank you. Thank you for stopping. Thank you for this, thank you."

He stares wordlessly before nodding, a slight blush on his cheeks before he hides his face in the cup of tea. She doesn't bring attention to it.

"You can sleep in my room. It's the door next to the bathroom."

Humming she looks up, fatigue hitting her like a brick at the mention of sleeping.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I have a perfectly good couch, don't argue you're sleeping in my room. That's final. It's better that my mother doesn't see a strange woman on the couch when she wakes up."

Well, she can't argue with that logic.

"Okay." Drinking the last of the soothing beverage, she stands up walking over to place the cup in the sink.

"Good night." She starts to walk back in the direction of the bathroom, seeing another door next to it. Seojun's room. Twisting the doorknob she pushes it open, before she hears his voice from behind her.

"If you need anything I'm right outside."

Blinking her tears away, she nods without looking back, too vulnerable with his palpable concern.

When she lays her head down on his pillow, his scent fills her senses and she falls into a deep restless slumber feeling safer than she has in long time.

Tomorrow will be horrible.

But tonight, she will allow herself to breath easy knowing that someone is on her side.

#true beauty #kang sujin #han seojun #sujin deserves better #redemption fic #healing each others wounds #the visuals #true beauty kdrama #slow burn

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kieraelieson · 4 years

Text

Centaur AU 5

To say Thomas worried the rest of the day would be an understatement. He tried to keep it to himself, but it must have been palpable, since Roman came into the stable bright and happy, and his smile dropped immediately. His eyes went wide, clearly sending messages to the others, but he didn’t say a word until his jockey was gone.

“What happened?!”

“It’s not that much to be concerned about,” Logan said. “My legs are hurting, nothing more.”

“The vet has been called at least!” Roman said, a flash of anger in his eyes. “If—“ his words fizzled out as he turned to see Thomas.

“No, no, Thomas called the vet. She’s coming tonight to help,” Patton said, his tone calming.

“Well,” Roman looked like the wind had been taken out of him. “Good.”

And that somehow reminded Thomas. The very visit probably wouldn’t be over in a few minutes, he would be late to get home again. He was now Extremely glad he’d gotten a cell phone for Remy. Perhaps after a month or so he could afford one for Emile too.

He went to the phone, ignoring the quiet talking from the others.

Remy didn’t pick up right away, and Thomas called a second time.

“Look, I don’t know who you are—“

“Remy, it’s Thomas.”

“Oh. Sorry, this is a weird number. Wait—- don’t tell me you got lost this time!” Remy laughed. “Emile! You’ve got to hear this!”

“No, no, Remy, I’m not lost, I’m still at work. I just called to say I’ll probably have to stay late again.”

There was a vague, displeased grunt. “What, overtime twice in a row? You did negotiate for overtime pay, right?”

Thomas sighed. “No, I’m not sure I’m even getting paid at all for it.”

“What?!” Remy yelled. “Thomas, you are A Doormat!” The sound went a little fainter. “Emile, tell him! He’s not even getting paid for staying late!”

“Really, Thomas, you do need to stand up for yourself in terms of fair payment,” Emile said.

Thomas chuckled slightly, sighing. “I know. I really do. This is just more important than that. I’ll explain when I get home, and I’ll even try to figure out a way to renegotiate.”

“We’ll hold you to that,” Remy promised.

“Be safe and reasonable,” Emile said. “If you get very tired, it may be better to quit before your task is complete or to stay the night there.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind,” Thomas said. “Love you guys.”

“Yeah, yeah, all the mushy ‘we love you too’,” Remy said distantly before hanging up.

Thomas smiled a bit. He really missed them, even though it’d only been a few days, they seemed really long.

And then he heard a car stop and a door shut. Hopefully that was the vet.

He turned to offer his most reassuring smile to the centaurs before going out to meet her.

“Oh, hello, are you Thomas?”

“I am, yes, and I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Dr. Avery. Would you help me carry some things?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not surprised something finally happened,” Dr. Avery said, her tone rather annoyed. “I’ve been saying all you recent grooms are lazy and uneducated.”

Thomas tried not to take offense, but really, he was undereducated. He hadn’t had barely an idea of what to do.

“For a centaur like that one you need to be applying liniment all the time, and keep support for his legs between, and he really ought not to be sleeping standing.”

Thomas nodded, extremely glad for the information, though a part of him grated against the tone it was delivered in.

“And he really needs some kinds of exercise other than those competitions. Without the variety, eventually he’ll be unable to do anything else. Maybe it’s even too late already.”

Thomas nodded again.

They entered the stable, and the silence was almost oppressive. All four centaurs stared intently at them, very still, and not making a single sound, not even in response to Thomas’s small smile.

Dr. Avery went right into Logan’s stall, and he narrowed his eyes at her slightly before moving into the middle of the stall, crossing his arms and staring firmly at the wall. It somehow cut into Thomas to see it. As if the vet visiting was something that had happened long ago, and ended very unpleasantly, and this was some sort of unpleasant truce. But he didn’t know what to do about it. He, they all needed a vet, and he strongly doubted he would be able to call his vet. There would be so much paperwork, even just to begin, and Logan was hurt now. Not to mention that the owners might well hate the idea of switching vets.

Dr. Avery unwrapped Logan’s legs and ran her hands carefully over them, making small displeased noises as she found… whatever she was finding.

“Thomas, go out to my truck, there’s a portable x-ray machine. Bring it here.”

Thomas ran to obey quickly.

The vet examined each of Logan’s legs very carefully, and then studied the x-rays, frowning intently, but not saying much. Thomas felt like his breath was held the entire time, waiting on the professional judgement.

“Well, first of all,” she said, still staring at the papers.

Thomas nodded quickly. “Yes?”

“This is going to be expensive to treat,” she said, her tone sour. “There are a number of faint cracks in the cannon bones. I’m quite frankly shocked he hasn’t broken his legs. He needs to stay off his feet as much as possible, and his legs need support, as well as dietary supplements to build up the bones again. He will not be able to participate in any of those competitions whatsoever for 12 weeks at the very least.”

Thomas nodded firmly. He was sure… well, he was desperately hopeful that the Authiers would pay for it.

“But on top of that the mental aspect cannot be discounted. I’ve known this centaur for quite a few years. It will be a long, and painful recovery, if it’s handled just right. I don’t think he’ll pull through it. Centaurs are finicky like that once injured.”

Thomas felt as though she’d managed to slap them all in the face, and Logan at least twice. He wasn’t sure if he was more shocked or angry.

“Add all that to the likelihood that he won’t be able to do many competitions afterwards even if he did somehow pull through it, and from the inactivity his muscles will be atrophied, he won’t be the same for… perhaps six months or more. I don’t know that you’ll, or rather, that the Authiers would find it worthwhile to keep him around anymore.”

Thomas felt like he might fall over. His voice came out squeaky and faint. “Are-- are you seriously suggesting that---”

“Putting him down. Yes.”

There was a choked sound from Patton, who looked both absolutely terrified and like he might throw up. Thomas wondered if he looked the same way. There was suddenly a scream.

“NO!” Virgil had reared up and kicked the door, hard.

Dr. Avery paled. “Why is he loose like that?! That is a violent centaur!”

Thomas, in what was probably a powerful move Emile would berate him for later, managed to shove everything down all at once and put on a conciliatory smile.

“Thank you so much for coming. I will talk to the Authiers, and call you again with their decision. If you leave, it will be easier to get him under control again.”

Virgil was still screaming, the sound more animal than human, and the stall door would not hold much longer.

“That’s at least a three man job! I’ll get the tranquilizers.”

“No.” Thomas said firmly. “Please leave. Now.”

Dr. Avery shook her head like he was crazy, but grabbed her stuff and left.

Thomas shut the stable door, and then heard a cracking of wood. In seconds Virgil was in front of him, rearing up threateningly. If he hadn’t already so far detached himself from the situation, Thomas might have screamed. And then he would have most assuredly died. But he didn’t, he raised his hands slowly and silently in surrender.

“You won’t touch him!” Virgil screamed.

“Virgil, please. I swear to you I will never let anything like that happen to Logan. I swear. I will do everything I possibly can, and if that doesn’t work I’d kidnap him before I let someone kill him. I promise Virgil, everything I can, I will do to make him safe. I promise. Please. Please walk back to your stall. Or to Logan’s. I’m sure he would appreciate you with him.”

It was as if dark clouds started to be blown away as Virgil stood down, taking a step back and turning to look at Logan.

Thomas collapsed to his knees, suddenly sobbing.

Something was going on, but he didn’t know what, only that his breath was coming short and he couldn’t stop himself, nearly curled up in a ball, heavy sobs wracking his body. And then strong arms picking him up and holding him in a hug.

“It’s alright. Everyone’s safe for now.” Someone said. “You did the best you could.”

Thomas tried hard to stop crying. He needed to be the strong one. He needed to fix everything. “I’m so-sorry, I’m trying.”

“It’s alright. We’re all alright for now. Let it out now.”

Thomas slowly managed to regain some kind of composure, and realized that Roman was holding him, knelt down on the floor with him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. You- you shouldn’t have to--”

He was cut off and surprised by Roman squeezing him in a tight hug. “Thomas, you’re giving us the best you have. Thank you. It’s enough.”

And somehow that made him want to cry all over again. Not the same desperate sobs, but it still made him sniff, and quite a few more tears ran down his face. “Thank you, Roman.”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said, his voice quiet and low. “Did-- did you mean what you said?”

Thomas nodded firmly. “I’ll never just stand by while they kill someone. Especially not for being hurt.”

Patton burst into tears, which, judging by his wet face, were not the first by far.

“Is Logan ok?” Thomas asked.

Virgil looked up at Logan’s face, which he could see from his place snugged up against his side. “He’s out.”

It took Thomas a second while his brain screamed ‘he passed out???’ to realize Virgil probably meant he was heavily dissociated. Thomas couldn’t blame him. But… this was probably what the vet meant about centaur’s and their minds once they got injured. It wasn’t their fault, it was a whole life long of trauma. But for Logan to get well again he would have to be present.

But not yet. He deserved to calmly make his way back. He deserved… anything, after being talked about like that. Someone literally threatened to kill him while he stood there listening! Thomas felt anger rising up in him, bringing with it a rush of heat and energy. He was calling the Authiers. And he was not taking no for an answer.

He took the phone with him into the closet, where he couldn’t be so easily overheard. None of them deserved any more bad news.

“Hello?” A familiar voice asked, with loud music in the background. It was the woman who had hired him, and he felt bad to say, he didn’t remember her first name.

“Hello, Mrs. Authier, it’s Thomas Sanders.”

“Oh, Thomas! Do you need something?”

He was going to have to phrase this right if he had much hope. “I’ve been looking into the things that the other grooms did, and I’ve found several problems.”

“Uh huh. Well give me the quick version, I’m a bit busy.”

Thomas took a deep breath. “One of the centaurs needs medical care, and I need more time here. I’d like to be hired full-time, and be able to bring things over here to stay.”

“Oh, that was excellently quick. Is that everything?”

“Um, yes?”

“Great. I’ll give you an empty check for the medical care, and send my lawyer to talk with you in the morning about rearranging the schedule. Are we good now?”

“I… yes. I think so.”

“Great! There’s a party up at the main house, and it’ll go most of the night if you want to join.”

“Uh, thank you.”

“Call anytime, you’re a good summarizer!”

And then she hung up. Thomas was dumbfounded. It was entirely not how he’d expected it to go at all. He was wondering more and more what kind of crazy people he was working for.

He called Dr. Avery, and went to voicemail, which he preferred quite a bit. “Mrs. Authier approved the medical treatment. If you can come in the morning and give me care instructions, I’ll do my best to be sure they’re followed.”

And then Thomas let out a long, relieved sigh. He came out of the closet to many tense faces.

“She said yes. We’re going to treat Logan, and help him the best we can.”

Roman and Virgil sighed in relief, and Patton nearly cried again. “Oh, thank goodness!”

“And,” Thomas said, and suddenly had all eyes fixed on him again. “I think, I might be moving to stay here. Would that be alright with you guys?”

There was a strange silence.

“Well, what we think about it wouldn’t really change anything,” Roman said.

“Of course we’d love to have you!” Patton said, overlapping Roman’s words.

Thomas nodded solemnly. He could understand if they didn’t want him here. They barely knew him, and it’d take away the privacy they had at nighttime.

“Well, for tonight then, I need to wrap up Logan’s legs again, and probably after all that mess Virgil at least could use a brushing down. Would that be alright?”

Thomas looked mostly at Virgil, who nodded, but reluctantly, and didn’t meet his gaze.

And Thomas had to admit, even with the exhausted numbness settling over him, he was scared to be between Logan and Virgil, even though he knew, and they knew too, that he was only trying to help. Logan was still almost frozen, a glazed look in his eyes as he turned lazily to watch Thomas.

Thomas ran a hand gently over Logan’s flank, and over again. He didn’t know if Logan would appreciate petting or if he’d be annoyed or insulted by it. He just wanted to find some way to help, and to perhaps comfort and reassure a bit.

“I’m really sorry. If I’d known what she was going to say I would’ve had her outside to talk.”

Logan didn’t respond at all.

Thomas tried giving a rather wry smile, but it fell a bit flat.

“If you’d come out of this stall, Virgil, it’d be easier for me to brush you,” Thomas said, turning and going back to the closet to get a curry comb.

Virgil was standing in his own stall when Thomas came back out, and he was standing stiffly, his eyes darting around a bit, though he turned his head away to make it less obvious. Thomas wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he didn’t blame him. He felt antsy and jittery himself, and just wanted to get done and get home.

But as he entered the stall Virgil stepped away from him. “I’m sorry. F-for earlier. I-I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s alright,” Thomas said, raising the brush. “Just stand still now and we’ll be good.”

Virgil flinched back and away, holding his arms close to his chest, a wide-eyed scared look on his face. It finally registered to Thomas that something more was wrong than just fading adrenaline.

“Virgil, I’m tired and kinda crashing, it’s making me kind of dumb, and I’m gonna need you to communicate here with me, ok? What’s wrong?”

Virgil’s eyes flicked to the curry comb, but he didn’t say anything. A tremor started and ran over his body.

Patton came to the rescue, leaning over the walls.

“Virgil doesn’t like that brush.”

Thomas frowned down at the innocent curry comb. “It’s no worse than any other brush, Virgil.”

“It hurts! Especially when you’re mad or tired.” Virgil blurted out, shutting his mouth immediately after as if he’d said something bad.

The only way this kind of brush would hurt was if it was practically slapped against…. who was Thomas kidding, with the rampant abuse, it was incredibly likely that exactly that had happened.

“It wouldn’t hurt if it’s done properly,” Thomas promised. “Would you let me try? If it hurts you I promise I’ll go back and get your favorite one instead.”

“You promise?”

Thomas nodded firmly. “I promise.”

Virgil shook his head, a tremor running down his whole body. “Promises break.”

Thomas thought about it for a minute, and then went out and grabbed a lead rope, tying one end around his wrist.

“Do you trust Patton? The whole time I’m brushing you he can hold the other end of this rope, and the instant it hurts you he can pull my hand back.”

Virgil looked to Patton, who seemed more than a little nervous about the idea, but still nodded and accepted the end of the rope.

“O-ok.”

Thomas gently set the brush against Virgil’s side, waiting for the flinch and shiver to die down a little before he moved the brush at all. Virgil was all covered in sweat, and Thomas tried to move just right to get it off without moving too quickly and startling him.

He was a little surprised, but also a little not, that by the time he’d finished one side Virgil was relaxing into it. It must feel good to finally reach through all the hair and get properly brushed, and to get really clean.

He’d just wanted to get home a bit ago, but this was more important. It wasn’t just brushing down a centaur, it was getting Virgil to trust him, to trust brushes. It was healthy for Virgil’s coat too. And probably it was helping relax a lot of stressors for him. He needed it, far more that Thomas needed to get home. So he took his time, did it the best way, which also happened to take a long time.

And once he was done Virgil was so relaxed his eyes were drifting shut.

“There. You did very well, Virgil. And thank you for helping, Patton.”

Patton smiled and yawned. “You’re welcome, Thomas.”

“I’ll probably head home now. Is there anything else any of you need?”

“It’s nearly midnight,” Logan said, startling Thomas by speaking.

“Yes?”

Logan just gave a small nod, as if that meant something to him. “Thank you.”

Thomas nodded. “You’re welcome.”

He closed stall doors and turned off all the lights but one, finally leaving. When he got home, for some reason, he didn’t go into the house, he went into the stable. Only barely awake, he dropped onto the hay next to where Emile was stretched out, laying prone.

“Thomas?”

Thomas gave a weak grunt in acknowledgement before falling asleep.

#centaur au #my own work #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #character!thomas #death mention #past abuse

81 notes · View notes

rae-is-typing · 4 years

Text

kicked out

Description: You’re a part of the LGBTQ+ community, but your mother is a part of a religion that hates the LGBTQ+ community. You come out and she kicks you out. Tony helps.

Characters: reader, reader’s mother, Tony Stark, mention of Peter Parker

Reader is gender neutral!

Warnings: homophobia, transphobia, general hate towards those in the LGBTQ+ community, intense bigotry, being kicked out, anxiety attack

Disclaimers: This one shot is not meant to be one about hating religion. This piece was loosely based on my own internal struggle with myself and the religion I was raised in. I’ve also never dealt with direct backlash because of my identity. I’m not out yet and I have no desire to be out yet. This is the worst case scenario I would be facing if I did come out.

I tried to make the religion and the identity as ambiguous as possible to make it a little more universal, but this one shot definitely points to the identity being gay, queer, bi, or pan, so I’m sorry I didn’t make it anymore neutral.

If you have a problem with this fic or the way it was written, I urge you to message me. We can have a conversation about where I went wrong and how I can learn from the experience and do better in the future.

Word count: 2k

The Avengers love you, plain and simple. How could they not grow to love the adorable teen they let into their unconventional family? (If Tony had his way, he would legally adopt you in a heartbeat.) Unfortunately for Tony, you had a mom. She was a pretty good one, she fed you, clothed you and supported you in most things you did. You moved to New York together when your father died. Your mother was also very religious. You were born and raised in the church your mother and father were raised in. You never had a problem with it; the people were amazing, the community was like a big family, you grew up with all the youth, and, most importantly, felt loved and safe. You rallied together against what they claimed to be of the devil. That included people in the LGBT+ community. When you grew up, you realized how you truly feel about people of your sex, and how you feel about people of the same sex. It started slowly. You began to accept that part of yourself when you met someone like you. He was nice, compassionate, accepting of others and helped everyone he could. He was one of the best people you’ve ever met. He was nothing like what you’re mother and religion told you LGBTQ+ people were like. What had really convinced you that the LGBTQ+ are real people was when one of your closest friends came out. You accepted them, they were not only in the same boat as you (not that you were ready to tell anyone), they were one of you. But not everyone thought so. You saw it whenever you went to church and they were at the meetings. It didn’t make sense to you. They were one of you, right? So they got a pass. Apparently not. You knew through the disappointed and judgemental eyes burning with disgust. It made you sick and only further solidified your resolve to stay in the closet. You soon learned it was easier said than done. Whenever you wanted to avoid the rallies, you chickened out and went, too afraid to disappoint your friends and mother. You always stuck to the standards and tried to be the perfect child your mother always wanted. It was exhausting. Admittedly, you saw the difference between your congregation, and the Avengers when you first met them. They were the first people you could truly be yourself with. As cheesy as it sounds, it was evident. They encouraged your individuality and loved you because of your personality and your abilities.

You could talk to them, and you did. You told Peter first. He hugged you and told you that he’s bisexual and hasn’t come out to May yet.

You told Tony about yourself a week later. He smiled at you, wrapped an arm around you and told you he was proud of you for discovering yourself and beginning to accept that part of you. It was something you didn’t expect, not that it wasn’t welcome. You were on top of the world for a couple weeks, thankful that some of the most important people in your life loved you still. But as of late, your thoughts about yourself have been killing your spirit. You were so tired of pretending. The toll it took on you was obvious to everyone that didn’t know you as the perfect sheep. The people that were worried the most were the Avengers. You were at the tower a lot more than usual, not that they were complaining. It was just odd. You hesitated when they asked you simple questions, spaced out a lot more, ate less and claimed you felt sick almost every other day. They’d share concerned glances and tried to talk with you, but you’d brush it off and used school, drama or headaches to excuse your strange behaviour. It worked- for a while. Then you stopped going to the tower completely. It wasn’t your fault. Your mother heard you say one positive thing about the LGBTQ+ community and freaked out. She went off saying that it was the Avengers corrupting you and that she never should have let you take the Stark internship in the first place, and so much more. You had never heard her yell so much in your life, it was terrifying. She stopped letting you go out, you were only allowed to go to School and Church, took away all forms of technology and outside communication.

You were going crazy, there was no way you could keep living like this. So, you told her. You finally told her what you are, how you felt and why she shouldn’t make decisions for you when you were perfectly capable of making them yourself. You had waited a couple weeks, so you thought she’d be more level headed. But, you were wrong. She freaked out more than before.

You knew for a fact that it was worse than before because she kicked you out.

You were shocked, confused and most of all hurt. You’re a part of the LGBTQ+ community, but she was still your mother.

“What?” You asked, confusion lacing you voice.

“You heard me, get out. Get out of my house.” Your mom stated firmly, disgust obvious in her voice.

“You can’t do this, I’m your child!”

“Not anymore. You have until I get back, get you stuff and get out!” She shouted, walking out and slamming the door.

You sat on the couch until her words sank in. Your mother is kicking you out.

I’m homeless now. Where am I going to go? What am I going to tell my friends, what am I going to tell Peter? What am I going to tell Tony? What am I going to do? I can’t do it on my own. I can’t do it. I can’t…

Your breathing sped up, your heart races, and waves of nausea hit you hard.

Nevertheless, you got up and searched for your phone. As soon as you found it, you eagerly dialled in his personal number and called. He didn’t answer. You wanted to cry, you tried again with no answer. You plugged in your phone, put your head in your hands and sobbed.

Moments later, your phone rang. It was Tony.

“Tony,” You breathed out.

“Y/N! Where’ve you been, kid? It’s not as fun here without you.” His tone was light and relieved now that he could talk to you and make sure you’re okay.

“Tony, my mom, she- I- I wouldn’t have called if I had another option, I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“Whoa, hey, slow down and take a deep breath, Y/N.” His tone changed from fun to concerned in an instant. “What happened with your mom?”

“I-I told- I told her about me and that- that I- and she- Tony I can’t- she- I don’t-” You’re crying hard, unable to form coherent sentences and unable to breathe properly.

“Y/N, where are you?” Tony asked.

“H-home.”

“I’m coming over, stay on the line with me sweetheart, can you do that?”

“Ye-eah.”

As promised, you didn’t hang up until Tony was standing in front of you- Iron Man suit and all. He immediately pulled you in his arms when he got the suit off and began to calm you down.

“Can you tell me what happened now, kid?”

“She kicked me out.” You spoke into his chest.

“She what?” Tony growled. How could a mother be so cruel? Anger flooded his veins, how could someone turn away from their child for simply being honest with themselves?

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have called you if I had any other option. Please don’t be mad, I’m so sorry.” You bury your face in his chest, wanting this day to be a bad dream.

“It’s good you called me, Y/N. I’m not mad, not at you.” Tony held you in his arms, cradling your head against his chest and rubbing an arm up and down your back. There’s no hesitation, he knows that he needs to be there for you. “You’re staying with me.”

“W-what?”

“My dear, you are coming back to the tower. You will be sleeping, eating, doing your homework, socializing, and living with me and the rest of us at my tower. Okay?”

You can only nod, too overwhelmed to speak while clutching the back of Tony’s shirt like it was the only thing that was keeping you alive. He kept rubbing your back and letting you cry into his chest. Right now, his comfort doesn’t matter to him, not when his kid is crying in his arms.

It seems, though, that he’s the only one that heard the door begin to open.

Tony grips your forearm and steps in front of you. Your mother opens the door with puffy red eyes and dried tears on her face. She looks genuinely sad for what she had to do, but that look of sadness dissipates when she sees Tony and you standing in her living room.

“What are you doing here?” She hisses. “What is that doing here?"

"Y/N, go to your room and pack what you want to take.” Tony’s voice is even and strong. You hesitate, tears still streaming down your face, fingers still clutching Tony’s clothes like you were a toddler hiding from another adult. “Y/N, now.”

You turn briskly, running down the small hallway and into your room. You lock the door, rip your suitcase from your closet and stuff all of your sentimental items first before your favorite clothes.

Their voices are easily heard through the thin apartment walls. You hear Tony defending you and your mom berating you.

“That thing is not my child. I did not raise a sinner!”

“Y/N is a human being with a name that you gave them. You are their mother, mothers are supposed to love their children, not throw them out like yesterday’s garbage.”

You’ve never heard Tony this angry.

I shouldn’t have called him, he’s mad, she’s mad, I made her mad, she hates me she hates she hates me she hates me

You grabbed a pillow and cried in earnest into it, managing to cover your ears as well as your mouth to muffle your sobs and the voices coming through the walls.

A knock at your door makes you jump and hold your breath.

“Y/N, it’s me. Are you ready to go?” Tony says. You can hear the anger that was in his voice, even if he’s trying to stay as calm as he can for you.

“Yeah,” you croak, wiping your face. You grab the bag and open the door. Tony is shaking with fury, but he wraps an arm around you and walks you to the living room. Your mother says nothing to you as she sits on the couch with a prideful look on her face. “We’re flying back to the tower so I need you to hold on tightly and do not let go under any circumstances.”

You nod at the instructions and Tony suits up. The quiet mechanical sounds are music to your ears. He places an arm on the middle of your back and hooks one under your knees. He hoists you up easily, the bag resting your chest and held tightly by you.

Tony flies slower and lower than usual, keeping you in mind. You have one arm around his neck and the other holding the bag to your chest. He lands on a balcony to one of the top floors and carries you inside. Placing you on the ground with care, he holds your shoulders and assures himself you’re stable. He takes off the suit and walks you to a room.

“You can stay here for now. I’ll talk with Pepper and the team about what happened. I’ll only tell them that you’re staying for awhile. You can tell them the other news when you’re ready.”

You nod. He closes the door and you sit on the bed, staring at the wall.

A feeling of deep longing grows in your chest, along with feelings of rejection and pain. Your head drops to your hands and all you can do is cry.

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deathisanartmetzli · 3 years

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You Don’t Get It || Milo & Metzli

TIMING: Current - 10:29pm

PARTIES: @WICKEDMILO @DEATHISANARTMETZLI

SUMMARY: Milo and Metzli stop by the hospital for a simple errand, and what transpires is not so simple.

CONTAINS: Drug tw, Addiction tw, Abuse tw, Physical Abuse tw, Emotional Abuse tw, Gaslighting tw, Alcohol tw

Milo didn’t enjoy the hospital. Not only did it hold far too many memories of his childhood, and the relationship he used to share with his parents, it was clinical, and overwhelming. Now that his senses were heightened, every smell, and sound, along with the bright strip lighting overhead felt like an assault, battering him from all sides, pressing in on him until he felt small, and crushed under the weight of it all. Though he was grateful Metzli had agreed to take a detour so that he could drop off the pager Harsh had forgotten when leaving the apartment for his night shift, he was also incredibly on edge. He wanted to get in and leave as quickly as possible, which was why after successfully delivering the pager, he was hurrying down the halls, undeniably familiar to him even after so much time had passed. He hadn’t told Metzli that his parents were probably working, he wasn’t even sure he had told them they were doctors, but he would be able to explain when they were safely inside the car, on their way to whatever bar or club they were going to spend the rest of the night in.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk about it now. Things had been difficult for years, complicated, and messy in a way few people understood. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell on so he turned to offer his friend a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes but it was the best that he could manage considering the vague sense of panic settling deep within his chest. “I fucking hate this place…” He muttered, hoping that would be enough to justify his odd behaviour. He kept his head low, running through every way he could continue to make small talk, and avoid any questions. No doubt Metzli was going to be full of them. Accidentally catching the eye of a nurse who used to give him lollipops when he would visit with his dad as a child, he saw a flicker of recognition in the way that she looked at him, and began to walk even faster. The sooner he could get out of here, the better. “Don’t look at her, please-” He half begged. What if she stopped them? What if she sent a message to his mom and dad? “Come on, let’s just go-”

Metzli was annoyed with the pit stop the two had to make before going for drinks. Even worse, they were stopping at a hospital—probably the worst place for a vampire to be. All the smells—cleaning products, blood, death—they arched a brow at Milo. He was much more nervous than usual. “Depresso, everyone hates hospitals. They suck.”

Hands were pocketed as the two navigated the halls and Milo’s attempts at appearing calm were failing. Yes he hated hospitals, but Metzli was gathering that he hated this hospital in particular. Just as their mouth opened to ask what the hell was wrong, they ran into a woman. A clipboard clattered to the floor and Metzli swiped it up quickly to hand it back, “My apologies ma’am, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

A flirtatious smile formed and they cocked their head to the side. Milo’s mom may be older, but she was certainly beautiful. Just before they were about to put on the real charm, the doctor recognized Milo and turned her focus to him.

They managed to make their way down a few more corridors without any kind of interruption, and Milo was almost starting to believe they were safe. His parents could be in their offices, which were situated on another floor. Or maybe even in the cafeteria, sharing a coffee during their lunch breaks like he had seen them do so many times before. But his hopes were dashed when, forcing Metzli to keep up with him, they walked into a doctor, a blonde woman whose scent he recognised almost immediately. Coming to a halt, feeling every emotion he had been working to repress, he stared at the face that looked so much like his own. Distracted by Metzli, it took his mother a few seconds to realise who they were with, but the moment she laid eyes on him her expression shifted, pain obvious in her eyes, despite an underlying hope that he recognised all too well.

“No, no, don’t apologise.” She insisted, her voice quiet, confused. “Thank you.” She accepted the clipboard, not taking her eyes off of her only child. Milo knew she was wondering whether he was ready to come home.

“Hi, Mom…” He said, his voice cracking as he broke the sudden, awkward silence. As if on cue, she glanced behind her, and his father emerged from a private room. Moving automatically to stand beside his wife, it took him far less time to realise who she was talking to.

“Ali, I’ve put in a request, a technician should be here in about an hour-” Breaking off without warning, he turned to stare at his son. His eyes automatically began checking him over for any signs of physical injury. He was noticably flustered, but doing his best to remain calm. “Milo?” He asked, his voice sharp, an edge to it as he clearly tried to figure out whether there might be an ulterior motive, or a darker reason for his visit to the hospital. They all knew he wouldn’t show up for a family reunion. “Are you hurt?” Milo faltered, shocked by the question. For a brief moment he was reminded of the fact that they cared. But before affection could overwhelm him, his usual guards fell into place, aided by the alcohol he had already consumed over the course of the evening.

“What?” He demanded, his anger coming to him easily. A well practised routine by now, one he was confident in. “You aren’t going to ask me to take a drug test? Or empty my pockets to make sure I’m not stealing pills from your precious patients?” His dad didn’t react, far too used to the defensive response, but his mom bit down on her bottom lip, hurt by the accusation.

“Milo, that isn’t-” She started, but he cut her off, refusing to let her get under his skin. What he was saying was valid, they had made similar judgements in the past. They had questioned him, yelled at him, cried in many desperate attempts to emotionally manipulate him. The two interventions they dared to stage still filled him with rage, and a burning shame that he willed himself to ignore. He wasn’t the problem.

“Whatever,” he muttered harshly, making an effort to avoid eye contact with them both. “We’re leaving, right Metzli?”

Metzli was stunned by the verbal interaction between Milo and his—parents? They could only look back and forth between the two parties as they held their own private conversation. But they could hear it all. The anger and resentment on Milo’s behalf, and the parental love and worry from his mom and dad. It created a whirlpool of emotions in them, unsure on how to feel or even react.

Milo’s mother clearly seemed worried, only asking if her son was okay, and she was met with this? A grown man acting like an ungrateful brat to parents that actually seemed to genuinely love him and care about him? Oh, oh no. Metzli grew angry and stepped in without thinking. “What the hell is the matter with you, Milo?” They growled, defending his parents. “They’re just asking if you’re okay and you’re acting like a fucking asshole!”

Anger rose and rose from the pit of Metzli’s stomach, straight to their chest. Milo was acting as if his parents just yelled at him, or even put him down. They weren’t having any of it. Not when they knew what it was truly like to not have parents that loved them.

Milo fell silent, stunned into submission by Metzli stepping between himself, and his family. He could see that his parents were equally as surprised. The three Summers watched, listening as the vampire began to berate him for his frustration. Any confusion, or curiosity was very quickly washed away, and he found it was suddenly very easy to direct his anger towards his friend. How could Metzli assume to understand the situation after hearing less than two minutes of a conversation? How could they call him out when they didn’t know what he had been put through by the two people standing opposite him? He loved his parents, he wasn’t afraid to admit that. But having parents who wanted to change certain aspects of who he was, aspects that weren’t hurting anybody, was painful. He hated it. Why couldn’t they just accept him? All of him. “No, they’re not.” He snapped. “They’re trying to work out how many drugs are in my system.” Even if they were concerned for him, the question would be at the forefront of their minds. “And whether or not I’m going to embarrass them in front of their colleagues. Colleagues they decided to talk to about their son being an addict.” How many times had he come home to find new leaflets, and studies on the kitchen table? Notes from nurses, and doctors his parents were close with about how best to handle a child with an addiction. Only they didn’t have a child with an addiction. “You don’t get it, okay? You don’t get to stand there and call me an asshole.”

“And so what if they are?!” Metzli snapped back, no longer holding off any of their words or emotions. They got into Milo’s bubble, looming over him to intimidate. “Are they locking you in a fucking basement?!” Hands pushed Milo backwards, not quite hard enough to make him fall. “Are they beating you until you bleed?!” Another step forward, another push back. “Are they leaving scars all over you?!”

Anger pushed and pushed, taking them to their breaking point. Metzli may not know exactly the relationship the family had, but it obviously stemmed from a place of love. To see someone be so ungrateful and even cruel against that made them snap. Milo’s shirt was now firmly grasped into fists as they raised him off the ground with ease. “No! They are showing you love and care! Something you obviously are taking for granted!”

Tears streamed down their caramel face, and hands were on Metzli’s shoulders—it was Milo’s parents. Eyes softened when they turned and made eye contact with them, and they let Milo go. “Even now, they are trying to protect you,” words were strained and wet behind hot tears. A small crowd of nurses and doctors began to form, but they continued. “You don’t get to stand there and act like your parents are hurting you when you don’t even know what that really feels like. When you have parents that want you and care for you enough to make sure you stick around.”

Pain was painted on their face, full of sorrow and disdain for what they had witnessed and what they had experienced. Closing their eyes for a few seconds, they sobbed softly and walked a few feet away to recollect themselves.

Milo’s eyes widened as Metzli descended on him. He realised there wasn’t just anger in their voice, but aggression too, and he curled in on himself, a subconscious attempt to make himself small. Forced to retreat, he stumbled backwards, his chest stinging where Metzli had laid their hands on him. He wasn’t expecting to be pushed, to be physically challenged in front of his parents, but there was nothing he could say. He wasn’t about to apologise. If anything Metzli should apologise for making so many assumptions. “Stop it.” He demanded, regaining his balance, and trying to sound firm in his order. Taking another step back when his friend decided to push him for a second time, he only felt his anger surge. This wasn’t fair, nothing about this was fair. As if being in the presence of his parents wasn’t difficult enough, Metzli was determined to make it worse. “Metzli- stop!” He said again, scrambling to grasp at their hands as they lifted him easily from the floor. It was a terrifying sensation, finding himself so out of control. The toes of his shoes slipped against the linoleum floor, desperately trying to find purchase. For a brief moment he worried they were going to throw him backwards, do something to further draw attention to their unnatural strength, but then his mom rested a careful hand against their shoulder, attempting to de-escalate the situation.

“I don’t really know what’s going on here between you two… but this is a hospital, this isn’t appropriate.” She said, her voice quiet, as always tinged with disappointment, and hurt. Milo resisted the urge to look her in the eye, knowing he wouldn’t like what he saw there. Feet finding solid ground again, he shook Metzli’s hands off of him, brushing down his shirt with a shaky huff of breath. Trying and failing to compose himself. They were crying, but he didn’t care. Not right now. Not in this moment. “Protect me, and change me.” He bit out, edging away from Metzli in case they tried to lift him again. How many times had his parents told him he was wrong? Broken, and damaged... How many times had they told him he had a problem, like they knew him better than he knew himself? They wanted Milo, the perfect, clean and sober son. The son who didn’t exist. Not Milo the disappointment, the son who only ever wanted to have a good time. Turning to face Metzli, he defiantly held their gaze, mustering all of his courage to do so. “I do know what that feels like. Not in the same way you do but that doesn’t make it any less valid.” He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by his mom, who was watching him with fresh tears shining in her eyes. She seemed oblivious to her colleagues, who were hovering nearby in case security needed to be called, politely making conversation among themselves to offer the family privacy.

“Milo, we don’t want to change you. We’ve never wanted to change you.” She begged him to believe her. “We only ever want you to be okay.” Glancing over to Metzli who had decided to put some distance between themself and the situation, he could see his mom’s heart break for this person she didn’t know. The maternal instinct in her wanting to wrap Metzli in her arms and offer them a loving, undeniably patronising support network. He shook his head, his throat dry, his chest tight. It wasn’t that simple, it was never that simple. Because his version of okay was very different to the version his mom and dad liked to discuss.

“I am okay.” He snapped, finally looking them both in the eye, his gaze shifting between his mom and his dad as they stared at him, looking as lost as he had ever seen them look.

“Milo…” His dad was hesitant to speak, overly aware of the crowd forming, and of Metzli still standing a few feet away from them. He could sense the situation was precarious, and he clearly didn’t want to make things worse. “We just want to get you help. That’s all we’ve ever wanted. Let us help you.”

There were those words again. Help. He needed help. Everything that had been building within him became amplified, he could hear every heart machine, every IV drip, every shuffle of paper, every cough, every sneeze. He could smell his dad’s cologne, his mom’s perfume, her hair products. Even their washing detergent was obvious, permeating the air, creating a thick haze of nostalgia, a childhood long left behind. His anger rose in his chest, raw, and hot, and before he knew what he was doing he was shouting as loud as he possibly could. “I DON’T NEED HELP!” It tore out of him, echoing against the sterile walls, and silence fell over the hospital wing. Finally nobody was able to pretend they hadn’t noticed the altercation. He felt tears break free to run down his cheeks, and looked around at the nurses and doctors who had known him since he was in diapers. How many of them had coloured in with him during their lunch breaks, or kept him entertained in their offices by playing I Spy while his mom and dad dealt with emergencies? How many of them used to babysit? Or carry him around on their shoulders, explaining different machines, and what they did to help their patients? What did they think of him now? Did they even recognise him as the same person? Intelligent, curious, determined to become a doctor when he grew up?

His breath coming in short gasps, he took one last look at his family, at the people who had raised him, before pushing past them, needing to get away from the heavy environment, the weight of so many eyes upon him. He didn’t know if Metzli was following him. Why would they? But he didn’t care enough to check.

Fists were balled into fists as Metzli continued to listen idly. Body shook with angry vibrations. For Milo to think that their experiences were even close to similar baffled them to the point of silence. What happened was an overreaction, and they knew that, but it was too late to take it back now. All there was to do was let the family have their not-so-private conversation while they waited a short distance away.

Hearing how the doctors spoke to their son made something form in their chest. Metzli felt jealous. They supposed that fueled their outburst as well—angry at how Milo treated what they had always wanted, what they could never have. At Milo’s snap, they grimaced, hearing the twinge of pain beat in his parent’s hearts. Being alive this long, they knew what despair sounded like within a heart.

Mrs. Summers’ heart rattled and beat erratically, playing off the fearful hurt she felt, while Mr. Summers’ heart pounded with anger that he failed his son. Everyone watched Milo walk away, and Metzli didn’t bother saying anything to him as he passed. Instead, they stepped up to Mrs. Summers, only looking at the ground to say, “I’m sorry, ma’am.” It was weak, soft, and laced with the tears that still fell from their eyes.

Without another word, Metzli turned and went after Milo, still silent as they reached the outside world. The only thing that could be heard was the crunching of gravel beneath hurried steps. “If you think those are bad parents, I’d hate for you to have had mine.” They said finally, with no emotion.

Milo lit a cigarette the moment he was outside, sucking down the smoke as though it could fix all of his problems. The cold night air stung at his cheeks, causing the tear tracks there to burn, and he relished in it. The physical sensations were a welcome distraction from his inner turmoil, though it didn’t take long for Metzli to catch up with him, and bring with them everything he was trying to run from. “I heard you!” He shouted, unable to help himself. He couldn’t lower his voice if he tried. “I heard you apologise to her- you had no right to do that!” He took another long drag, hands shaking with emotion. “Fuck you, Metzli. Fuck you and your bullshit!” He was pacing, almost frantic in his movements as he tried to work away the energy still tense in his muscles. The fear of Metzli punching him, or pushing him, or picking him up. The fear of his parents following him. The anger, and the hurt that radiated throughout his body as he thought about what had just taken place. Fresh tears spilled over, and he scrubbed them away with his sleeve. “I don’t think they’re bad parents! Sometimes they can be really fucking good parents, but you have no idea what they put me through- you can’t know!”

Unless they had lived through his own experiences, had to deal with the disappointment, the manipulation, the guilt trips, the interventions, the threats of rehab, the patronising talks, they couldn’t possibly understand why he was so upset. Why he longed to keep his family at a distance. He was doing so well. Metzli just had to ruin his progress by running into his mom. Why couldn’t they be more careful? If they had only watched where they were going then chances were he could have slipped away before his mom even realised he was in the same wing. “Fuck!” He kicked at a nearby can on the floor, listening to it as it clattered against the asphalt. “Just leave me alone, okay? I don’t have anything to say to you.”

Metzli couldn’t take it anymore, anger had fully peaked. A crushing blow to Milo’s cheek was made by their fist. He fell to the ground with a thud and his cigarette flew somewhere into the darkness. “What did they put you through? Getting you help because they don’t want to watch their son lose himself?” They crouched down next to Milo, a fire was lit in their eyes. “You know what my parents did? I got beat, everyday. And when they were done, I’d get put in the basement. For days. But hey, at least I got a single fucking meal a day, right?”

A shaky huff pushed through from their lungs as they continued to lock eyes with Milo. “Every day they told me how much they hated me and wished I wasn’t born because I ruined their life. And you’re bitching about your parents being worried about you? About trying to help you because they’re scared that you’re hurting yourself? God, Milo. Fuck you.”

Finally breaking away, they stood tall and took a few steps away from Milo, and towards their car. “They’re not even embarrassed of you. They don’t try to hide it, to hide you. But hey, fucking sucks that they have had you take some drug tests so that they could find the best way to love you and help you.” Metzli sneered and continued to walk, not looking back. “Text me when you stop acting like an asshole.”

A car door opened and then shut, followed by an engine turning over. Metzli peeled out, wanting to be rid of the situation. They needed a drink, straight from a body, any body.

Milo yelped in pain, and shock as Metzli’s fist connected with his cheek. Pain spread outwards from the site of impact as he hit the ground hard. Staying sprawled where he landed, gravel cutting into his palms, it took him far too long to process what was happening. Before he knew it, before he could even try to stand up, or take a breath to steady himself, Metzli was crouching before him, spitting venom alongside their words. He could feel their pain, feel how much they were hurting, but he wasn’t comparing their pain to his own. He was trying to show them there were a million ways to hurt. “I don’t have a problem.” He spoke through his teeth, his jaw firmly set as black blood began to drip from his nose. “I’m allowed to be angry, you don’t have the monopoly on this.” Metzli didn’t own familial trauma. Just because they had suffered in a very particular and terrible way, it didn’t mean he couldn’t also suffer. Why was that so difficult to understand?

Holding Metzli’s gaze as they made eye contact with him, he swallowed, reaching up to cuff at the blood now working its way into his mouth. It was cold, bland, and chalky. Nothing like the metallic warmth he was used to. Pulling his knees up to his chest as Metzli finally stood again, he tried to protect himself should they decide to kick him, but apparently he wasn’t worth the effort. His friend turned towards their car, talking over their shoulder as they walked away. Reaching out, he found his lost cigarette, and clumsily picked it up, staring at Metzli’s back as he took a deep breath of smoke. He wanted to say something, anything to make sure he had the final word, but he couldn’t make a sound. So he watched them leave, exhaling, letting the back of his throat burn to distract himself from dwelling on the fact that he felt about as helpless as his parents had looked. I don’t need help. He told himself. I don’t have a problem. The more he said the words, the easier they became to believe.

#you don't get it #milo and metzli #drug tw #addiction tw #abuse tw #physical abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #gaslighting tw #alcohol tw #hospital tw #wickedswriting

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fivenightslaughter · 3 years

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Wicked Serpentine (Part 2)

Part 1

pairing: draco malfoy x femravenclaw!oc

summary: slowburn enemies to lovers fic, multiple parts. <3

warnings: use of m*dblood, malfoy being mean

word count: 2,174

taglist: let me know if you’re interested in being added!

I knew nothing of this school I was willingly sending myself off to, nothing of this world. Other than the fact that I was severely late. I felt stunted and out of place. I couldn’t decide if this was some crazy, hyper-realistic dream or an even more unfathomable reality. But yet, I was standing here, at King’s Cross station.

“You look rather lost, love.” A voice rang.

Another chimed. “Mighty lost, really.”

Two voices on either side of me interrupted my contemplation and quieted the thumps of my palpitating heart. My palms felt clammy.

I had briefly considered asking these two ginger strangers about platform 9 and... ¾ , but ultimately I’d decided to hold my tongue from uttering such an outlandish thing.

“I, well… I’ll find my way, thanks.

”They looked at each other and seemed to jest before looking back at me.

The one on the left introduced himself.

“I’m George.”

The other followed swiftly, gracefully nabbing my trunk from my betraying slippery fingers.

“And I’m Fred.”

They gave each other a glance again before one pointed at the other.

“No, you’re George, I’m Fred.”

Their playful bickering lasted a few seconds before they had spoken to me again, this time about the platform. I had resolved already that these two must be quite familiar with young or lost wizards attempting to find this mystery location? They seemed eerily comfortable in this situation.

“Here, let us show you to the train. It’s just through this brick.”

I nearly gaped, incredibly unsure of this new situation or how to handle it. Was I being toyed with? I decided to give them more merit than I should a stranger and did as they gestured. I aimed to go headlong through a brick wall.

I braced for impact.

There wasn’t one.

Instead, I was met with a completely new sight of bustling students and their parents waving them off. Kisses and hugs goodbye. Yells and whispers, people filing onto the train. It was brighter, much brighter than the train station I had arrived at.

Following shortly behind me were clearly twins I’d now attempt to recognize as Fred and George, not respectively however, as I couldn’t exactly tell the difference yet.

I could swear I felt a fleeting pang of despair as my eyes trained unnecessarily long on two parents who had wrapped their daughter in a hug before she scurried off. My parents had no desire to be here, not with me, not in this world.

That was okay though. I tried to soothe my racing mind by turning to face one of the fiery-haired boys I’d just met, to attempt conversation, but they had busied themselves as pests to some other small, first year looking students. They seemed like a funny pair, maybe I’d unknowingly made my first friends already.

‘Fred and George’. I turned their names over in my head. Friends. I liked that.

I shuffled towards whichever was closest to me, needing a shield from the busy platform. Tapping him on the shoulder, I tried my hardest to gather my thoughts.

“I don’t mean to sound thick, but what do I do now? I mean, at all? I know I need to step onto the train but…” My face flushed as I admitted myself to someone I’d just met, “I don’t know anything about magic, or… Or this place.”

His jubilance eased into faint seriousness. He smiled genuinely at me.

“Oh, we could tell.” He let out a warm laugh.

“Also, I really am George. Don’t tell Fred I told you, though, …?” He trailed off as I assumed he realized he still didn’t know my name. No, there hadn’t been time for that yet.

I answered the question that lingered after his sentence. “Eris. Woodwork, if it matters.

”He seemed to enjoy my full answer, turning to look at Fred not far off behind him, I looked with him, noticing Fred hanging around other red haired kids dressed in robes. I made eye contact with George again and he nodded knowingly.

“Weasley. My last name is Weasley. And to answer your question, you’ll catch up easily and it will all make sense. I promise.”

Lingering kids rushed onto the train like lightning bolts and I took that as a cue to board immediately. I went to wave but noticed George had already taken back up with Fred and the other bright headed kids he had confirmed to be his family.

I suppose that meant I’d be navigating my way into this solid metal contraption alone. I didn’t much mind, though. Deep down I was glad, because I’m sure if I spent any longer with someone so nice I’d bare my whole soul before I could even think about the consequences.

I made my way on and took it all in rather slowly. It’s just a normal train. How curious it was, to be just a normal train. I began searching for an empty compartment from which I could stare outside in awe from without judgement. But it was proving to be more difficult than I thought. Everyone seemed well acquainted with one another, squeezing in with their friends and taking this as a chance to lightly doze before going back to school.

My head began to spin uneasily and my resolve was beginning to fade. Without the twins, or at the very least someone to guide me, I felt as helpless as when I arrived blindly at King’s Cross.

My helplessness only amplified when I felt an aggressive impact with my entire left side, followed by snickering.

“Out of my way, mudblood.”

Mudblood? What did that even mean? I stared back at my aggressor in confusion and it seemed to spark an odd glint in his sharp grey eyes. I took in his features. Pale, blond hair tossed over his forehead and ears. Pink lips pressed in a tight line, lifted into a slight smirk. He was rather attractive, though it was offset by a radiating malice that seemed to course through his very veins. I wasn’t expecting a negative encounter so soon.

He examined me up and down, finally settling on the door behind me. I knew he could see through the window into the empty compartment, as I had nearly moments before. I knew where he was looking and yet it felt like he was looking over me into nothing, in a way that made me feel small and invisible.

“You’re so stupid you don’t even know what it means, do you? How pathetic I have to explain. It means your blood is dirty, filthy really, and you’re inferior for it. You’re lowly. Like dirt. Get it now?” He had a haughty air about him, as if explaining his insults was below him.

That was my first introduction to a... word of that manner in this brand new world. No good without the bad, I rationalized. I suppose there wasn’t much I could do about that.

“I see, thank you for explaining.

”His lips curled in response and I assumed it wasn’t an answer he heard often.

“Yeah, you should be thanking me. You’ll do well to mind your manners.” He was almost spitting his words as he started off in the direction my presence had halted him from, followed by two others I hadn’t noticed before.

I opened the door of the compartment I had just been pressed against, sliding into a seat. This had been easy enough so far, save for the mark of impurity that I was now aware danced above my head.

My thoughts flurried as I gazed out of the window and with a jolt, the train began to move. Fast. I was determined to take in the scenery passing on the ride but the speed turned it all into an amassed green blur that allowed me to be lost in thought again. The ride was eerily smooth and calm, save for the quick succession of grassy hills and trees I could make out, and it seemed to lull me into a quiet comfort.

I opened my bleary eyes slowly. Without even realizing I had, I'd dozed off. I frustratingly berated myself for allowing myself to miss out on my surroundings, but I was cut short as I noticed a figure in the seat across from me.

She… stared. Right into my eyes, into me. She bore into my very soul. A soft, knowing smile lifted her features up.

"I've interrupted a deep thought, haven't I? I can see it growing smaller in your eyes." Her bluey grey eyes looked dazed and vacant, as if she were talking to herself as much as she spoke to me. Her hair was long and blonde, falling against her almost ghostly frame. For a real, palpable person, she seemed almost see-through.

“Ah, no. Not too deep.” I managed to smoothly answer, much in contrast with my nerves. The only other blond-haired person I’d encountered thus far had been rather harsh. There was something about this girl, though, that felt eerily still and yet pleasant; very much unlike the writhing, seething heat I’d received from the other boy.

“Luna Lovegood,” she began. She structured her sentence as if there was more, but blatantly said nothing. Simply smiling, the action lifting her eyes. What an odd girl, very odd.

“Eris Woodwork. Nice to meet you, Luna.”

I wondered if sharing my name over and over would get old, as it already had bothered me this second time over. It felt intensely personal, despite being the most impersonal part of me yet.

She nodded and I finally noticed an odd looking magazine resting loosely in her hands, upside down. She looked through the window to my left and back at me, then to her magazine cover.

“We’re here.” She seemed to always have a faint smile affixed to her face as she spoke.

She silently slid out of her seat, opening the compartment door. She didn’t look at me, but I was too nervous and out of place to be left alone again. I swiftly followed her, my mind at war with my legs, which threatened to buckle and lock me on this train.

A large man covered my field of vision, Luna had floated off to wherever she saw fit. I looked up, and up a bit more before I found a face under a large, dark beard. He had a positively emanating grin as he clamped a warm hand on my shoulder.

“You must be Eris now, aren’t ya? Woodwork?” He offered, inquisitively. I felt my eyes widen a bit, my eyebrows now drawn together in confusion. He chuckled heartily, a booming and yet, sincere sound.

“Ah, ‘course ye are. Well, on now! Let’s get going ‘for yer late.” He shrugged his large hand from my shoulder and motioned for me to walk in front of him.

“This ‘ere is the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; though I’m sure you knew that much at least. You’ll get yer house sortin’ with the other wee first years and we’ll be on from there!” He shined another pleasant smile while leading me to the school, among some scattered first years from the train.

It was beautiful. Extraordinary, really. A steely grey, old castle. It felt archaic in a gorgeously antique way. Elegance and, dare I say, magic, radiated in waves from the architecture. I felt safe enough with the rather large oaf guiding me to begin asking questions. Although, I could barely find my footing, causing me to stumble embarrassingly over what I wanted to know.

“So, where… What; no, who... “ I stammered out stupidly. I tried to focus on the immediate things I didn’t know- like that boy on the train.

“Is mudblood a dirty word?” I finally managed. I knew it was. I had just wondered, well, if it were a popular or well-accepted ideal.

He took in a sharp breath, leading me to assume it wasn’t.

“Now where ‘ave ye heard that already?” There was a short pause as he continued, almost defeatedly.

“See the thing is, Eris, there's some wizards, like the Malfoy family, who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call ‘pure blood’.”

It was my turn to take in a sharp breath. The boy on the train must have been a Malfoy, who else could taunt that word so carelessly and be so well-known for it? The large man continued, passively angered.

“And it's codswallop to boot. ‘Dirty blood’. Why, there isn't a wizard alive today that's not half-blood or less.” He finished off his rant with that, looking back at me. My eyes were searching the dirt for some sign of life, the buzz of the magic that I knew scattered this place.

“Ay, but I’m Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts. An’ I’ll be right willing to help with anything you need, lass.”

Relief flooded me to know that I wouldn’t be as openly hated or condemned for coming from two muggle parents. I also felt satisfied in knowing the last name of the blond from the train, as it hadn’t been so hard to piece together from Rubeus Hagrid’s small bout.

‘Pure blood’.

I mulled the words over in my head, wondering how much that word would fit in this new world of mine. If it were something important to remember, because it surely seemed like it was.

#draco malfoy x oc #luna lovegood #george weasley x oc #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter imagine #draco lucius malfoy #george weasley #slowburn #enemies to lovers #harry potter #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!oc #slytherin #ravenclaw #draco imagine

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thesvenqueen · 4 years

Text

With All My Love

Rating: M Pairing: Kristanna (as if it would be anything else) Also on AO3

Previous Chapters

notes: I know I know, I’m dragging it out a bit but to be fair, the chapter was WAY too long for my liking so I split it up. I promise, next chapter will be the moment we’ve all been waiting for :)

{Chapter 7}

Anna moves quietly yet quickly as she changes. Though the castle and the staff have gone to bed, risking making any type of sound could lead to her being caught.

So she is mindful as she moves, remembering every squeaky floorboard, which drawers and doors creak as they are opened.

The dress she wears is simple, another day dress of sorts, but she makes sure it’s nice. The skirt is an olive green, lightly colored rosalin lines the bottom of the skirt in soft purples, blues and greens. Her bodice is tan though with another shade of green along the outline, it compliments her skirt perfectly. With a very light blue shirt underneath, complimenting the bits of blue along the rosalin on her skirt, she thinks it should be good enough.

Yes, she may be trying to sneak out of the castle, her goal first and foremost, but most importantly she will be meeting K for the first time. She’d rather not show up completely in black, as though dressed for a funeral.

Their meeting, whether successful or not, should be a nice one and showing up in all black may put a damper on it all.

Still, she makes sure to tie her black cloak over tightly, the material long enough to hide most of her dress as she moves.

As Anna looks in the mirror, working to braid her hair, she finds her hands shaking.

She has to pause, taking a deep breath to collect herself.

There are many reasons to be nervous, she knows this, but she can’t be. There is too much at stake, too much being risked for her nerves to get the best of her and ruin what could be her future.

She has to stay calm, for her sake & K’s.

Taking one final deep breath, Anna looks back to her mirror. Clenching her jaw, she finishes her braid with a new feeling of determination.

Once finished, she moves to her bed, pulls the bag from underneath and places it on her back.

This was it.

Anna looks around her room, taking it in for the final time. Too many days and countless hours she spent held up in this room, one she used to love and cherish so much.

Now, it feels more like a prison than home. The pink and green wallpaper along the walls, placed there since childhood. It used to bring her joy, now a reminder of how things used to be. Those brief years of happiness, of fun, of laughter and smiles.

But as she grew, as she started to observe, she saw how much things were not all happiness and smiles. It was full of judgement, control, sprinkled in with tiny moments of joy with her family.

It's a reminder of her loneliness, of the emptiness she felt within these walls. A room once seeming to be so large, now so incredibly small and suffocating.

She wants to hate it, more than anything Anna wants to curse the room and the painful memories it holds. She finds that she can’t. As much as she hates it, it was still a part of her.

The young, naive child grew into a strong, independent woman within these flower covered walls. Witnessing her growth through the years.

Anna looks over the room once more, knowing she will never forget it though she still tries to ingrain the scene to memory.

Accepting her time here was done, she turns and moves towards the door.

~.~

It’s an easy slip down the halls and into the kitchen, from there it shouldn't take me long at all to get up to the tree.

What if you run into someone?

I won’t.

But what if you do? What will you do?

I’ll think of something. But it won’t happen, I promise.

~.~

In the years Anna has snuck out to the Oak tree, she has never once ran into anyone.

Not one.

There have been many close calls sure, Anna thinks as she peers around the corner to make sure it was clear. She had nearly slammed into one maid who had been late finishing her chores one evening. Thankfully, Anna had covered quickly by proclaiming she was going to the kitchen, grabbing a late night snack.

Another time, she hadn’t made it out of her own bedroom door. Gerda had appeared at her door, making Anna scramble to her bed to hide the dress she’d already put on. That had been a very close call, Gerda eyeing her as she’d entered the room.

She’d changed immediately after Gerda had left, not wanting to risk it that evening.

Still, Anna knew the castle better than anyone. Had spent years roaming the empty halls, learning how to move around without being caught or seen.

She makes it to the kitchen easily, not a sound or a peep from anyone within the halls. Opening the door just enough to sneak in, Anna slips through and closes the door with a quiet click.

She leans her head against the door, sighing in relief that she was nearly there. Only one more door, a quick hop over the wall and she’d be gone.

She’d be free.

“Anna?”

Anna jumps so hard, she knocks her head against the door. She turns quickly, rubbing idly at her now stinging forehead.

There, standing near the fire, was Gerda.

It is quiet, Anna staring with wide eyes at a very shocked Gerda.

No, no no no she wasn’t supposed to be here. No one was supposed to be here.

It can’t end like this. Not when she was so close, not when K was just beyond the door.

Anna watches Gerda look her over, the old woman’s eyes stopping on the pack on Anna’s back.

This wouldn’t be the end, she couldn’t give up now.

She can’t, she won’t.

She swore to herself she would take control of her life, would take the reigns away from those that worked to control her path.

This would not stop her, no one could.

Not even Gerda.

As Gerda looks back to her, Anna’s eyes fill with tears. Her heart is pounding now, the sound pounding in her ears.

Her jaw trembles as her lips part, her eyes boring into Gerda’s, begging for understanding.

“Please.” Anna whispers, pleading.

It is quiet once more, the tears falling freely down Anna’s cheeks. Gerda still stands by the fire, eyes never leaving Anna’s.

Then, slowly, Gerda begins to walk over to her.

Anna takes a breath, unsure what the woman is about to do. Would she demand Anna return to her room? Scold her for even attempting such foolish things? Promising to never speak of this as long as she went back now, throwing away her plan.

Telling her that whatever it was she was thinking of doing, what she wanted to do, was not worth the trouble.

To keep this all a secret, just between them, till their dying days.

As Gerda drew closer, Anna held her breath, bracing herself for a possible berating. For her to demand an explanation, with the familiar furry she’d seen a few times from Gerda over the years.

Maybe she wouldn’t be angry, maybe just confused and that Anna could deal with. A furious Gerda was harder to navigate, harder to negotiate and talk with. When Gerda was angry, there was no defusing till much later.

Anna braces herself, preparing for the reprimanding to begin.

It never comes. Instead, Anna’s jaw drops as she feels Gerda wrap her arms around her, squeezing her in a tight hug.

Anna blinks, completely taken aback.

Feeling Gerda squeeze gently, one of her hands moving up to the back of her head, Anna slowly wraps her arms around her caretaker, the woman who’d been there for her more than anyone else within the castle.

Anna buries her face into Gerda’s shoulder, muffling the soft sob that escapes her.

She isn’t sure what this means, unsure of what the woman is implying by this gesture, if she is comforting her only to berate her soon after. Nonetheless, she appreciates it.

It pains Anna to realize she can’t remember the last time someone gave her a hug.

They stand together for a moment longer, Anna softly crying into Gerda’s shoulder.

She needs to speak, knows she needs to ask her what exactly this means but she can’t bring herself to. She wants to cherish this moment for just a second longer, no matter the outcome set afterwards.

Then, Gerda beats her to the punch, “I hope you find happiness, Anna.”

Anna sobs openly now, realization of what her words mean.

Somehow, somehow Gerda knew the pain Anna was feeling. Knew that Anna no longer wanted to be in these walls, did not feel happy nor joy here any longer.

Bless her, she knew that Anna was trying to leave, knew there was great implications and trouble to come if she let her go, let her escape it all and yet, she was going to let her.

Anna has never been so thankful, so incredibly grateful.

“Me too.” Anna manages to murmur, feeling Gerda softly rub her hand along the top of her head.

“I’m sure you will.” Gerda says, and Anna can hear the shakiness in the older woman’s voice.

When they pull back, moments later, their faces are both red and puffy from tears. The old woman shakes her head, “Goodness, I don’t think I’ve cried like this in a long time.”

“I’m sorry.” Anna says, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh no, they’re happy tears I assure you.” Gerda says, bringing her apron up to her face to wipe the last few tears from her cheeks.

Anna furrows her brows, “Happy?”

“Yes,” Gerda says with a sniff, “Not every day you see the little girl you’ve helped raise become such a strong woman.”

Anna huffs a laugh then, nearly goes for another hug but she realizes too much time has passed.

Gerda has always been able to read her so easily, and she nods, “Yes, I think you best keep going. Everyone else has gone off to bed so you should be good from here.”

Gerda guides her, holding Anna’s hand and patting it gently.

“Thank you.” Anna says as they come to the door. “Truly, Gerda, for everything. I can never thank you enough.”

“Stop it,” Gerda says with a teasing tone, “You going off to live out a happy life for yourself is more than enough thanks for me.”

There is so much more Anna wants to say, so much more she wants to thank Gerda for, but the chime of a clock ringing the hour echoes through to the kitchen.

“Better get going.” Gerda says, opening the back door. “More time you spend here, the more chance you’ll get caught.”

Anna nods, squeezing Gerda’s hand one last time and goes through the door.

It is a cool night, the moon hangs full & bright in the sky.

Anna takes a few steps down the stairs, takes one last look behind her at Gerda.

She smiles at her again, Gerda’s lip slightly wobbling as she does so, then “I’m so proud of you.” she says, barely above of a whisper but Anna still catches it.

Anna smiles a wobbly smile, unable to speak as she watches Gerda close the door.

#kristanna #kristoff #anna #jessica writes #with all my love #not my fav chapter or my best but #yeet #happy Monday :)

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

I don't belong to anyone else (Crystal x Gigi) - Winter

Summary: Gigi doesn’t like to be emotional. She isn’t keen on vulnerability and would rather swallow it all down. Sometimes it gets too much

A/n: A songfic to anyone else by pvris but also kinda old wounds and nola 1. Thanks to Alex for encouraging me to write this. My blog is @soulfulwinter if anyone wants to say hi or follow me or anything.

“Don’t think about it! Don’t open those old wounds.”

Nicky’s voice echoed in Gigi’s head. She could feel the French girl’s disappointment at her current state of mind. It wasn’t her fault. Why did things like this have to happen? Why did reality have to hurt so much?

Her heart heaved with emotions she didn’t have the energy to unpack. Everything inside of her, the sadness and fear she constantly swallowed down, was rushing back up with a vengeance.

The silence was deafening. Intrusive voices and pictures flooded her mind without warning. How could Crystal just look at someone like that? What had happened?

Gigi felt responsible. She always did. How could she not? She spent months berating herself for not seeing the signs. She could have done something but she never realised.

Moments like this have a rare clarity. If Crystal was haunted by things like she was these bitter memories then it made sense. She claimed she didn’t want to hurt Gigi and yet hurt her more in the process.

Her vision blurred by tears she hadn’t noticed, she needed something to block it out. Nicky would complain at her for playing “that sad angry music” at some point but the redhead couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Putting her playlist on shuffle she was welcomed by a haunted voice. Gigi let the music envelope her, slowly drowning everything out.

A song describing a feeling haunted by a past love. It felt ironically relevant. The redhead let it sink into her.

The line about not pulling through to see 22 felt far too real. The song called her out and she felt a twist in her stomach at the thought. How she’d lived this long was a mystery to herself. Had she even survived? What was being alive? She sure didn’t feel alive right now.

Sinking in deeper the choruses passed by with Gigi in a daze.

You keep on saying that I’ve changed I know that I don’t feel quite the same.

Gigi hummed along to the lyric, feeling it in her body. The pain in the singer’s voice was all too familiar. The track faded out before she could ponder more.

The next track she felt immediately. Anyone else was a strong one. She recalled hearing it with crystal one time and they both agreed to only belong to each other.

Crystal and her soft curly green hair. She was the type of girl that would get a stare in the street from a judgemental old person but never seemed to let it phase her. She had called Gigi’s taste in music depressing. She was right.

“Oh my blood Once was my own But in one touch You made it yours What have you done? What have you done?”

Gigi couldn’t help but feel herself melt into the song. She sang along with an exhausted tone. Her voice would crack occasionally, the emotions were loosening and beginning to flow out.

The loud thudding bass of the song kicked in, driving her to move from the pile of sadness she found herself in. With the tempo picking up Gigi sat herself up slightly. She continued to sing along, her voice thick with emotions she didn’t have the energy to process.

“Oh my blood, What have you done, What have you done”

Gigi felt herself become one with the lyrics. She didn’t belong to anyone else. Or anyone, anymore. Something in her finally snapped and it started to flow out. The months of pent up sadness has eaten her up inside for too long, all she could do now was cry. The floodgates opened and refused to close. The redhead was left curled into a ball on her bed, sobbing herself into madness.

She tried to stop. To breathe. To not let it affect her and to try and push it from her mind like Nicky told her she should. It was impossible though. Any grip of composure she got was ripped away by another wave of overwhelming sadness. Sobs turned quiet then loud again.

Gigi didn’t let herself come undone like those. Perhaps that was why it was so intense. In hindsight she knew how unhealthy it was to bottle everything up and never let herself show an imperfection but it was what she knew best. It was comforting to be viewed as unshakable by some, no matter what her reality actually was.

That was part of what endeared her to Crystal in the first place. The unorthodox girl in a sea of people who cared about every little thing. Crystal seemed happy with imperfection, she claimed it made people more unique. Gigi wished she could have a similar power.

It felt like Crystal was the only person to see through Gigi before she opened up to them. Nicky was the only person she trusted to be so open with. Even then their friendship had its limits.

Nicky popped back into Gigi’s head. What would she say about the position she was in right now. Gigi felt a rush of fear at the idea of being found like this. She couldn’t explain it all. Not again.

Nicky would tell her the logical things she needed to hear though. Gigi desired the comfort of another person so deeply but she couldn’t. Not now. She could not be seen like this.

In her turmoil she failed to notice the person quietly stood by her door. Nicky had heard loud sad music, crying, singing and heartbroken sobs from Gigi’s room and felt her heart sink. The younger girl was going through something but she couldn’t intervene for fear of Gigi closing up. It had happened before and put immeasurable strain on their friendship at the time. The French girl knew that she would talk about it in due time if she needed to.

It took time. What felt like a few hours could not have been more than 45 minutes. Gigi had almost suffocated under the pressure boiling in her veins. It had flowed through her like blood, unknowingly sending pain wherever it went. She was left dry of all the tears but numb. Perhaps now she could try and pick up the pieces and move on? She could only attempt.

Her reflections were cut short by a buzz from her phone. One look at the contact name and her heart sank once more.

Crystal: Hey. Can we talk?

What was there to talk about? How her heart had been split in two but an unknowing devil? She couldn’t blame Crystal logically. It would have only caused more pain in the long run. A relationship wouldn’t work when one person couldn’t reciprocate the feelings.

The green haired claimed she needed to sort herself. Her mind would only hurt them both if she left it and Gigi didn’t deserve to deal with someone who felt incapable of love. Gigi shook her head. Crystal had loved her. She loved Crystal. Why couldn’t that be enough.

Crystal: I miss you I’ve spent a lot of time dealing with things recently

Gigi felt hope rise in her chest briefly. It fell quickly but the memory of it lingered. Was Crystal ready?

After all the heartbreak should Gigi even go with it now. All the tears and feeling inadequate. She had cracked under the pressure once and didn’t know if she could risk it again.

But it was Crystal. Crystal Elizabeth Methyd, part time artist and crier at any cute animals she saw. Maybe it was worth the risk.

Crystal: I love you

That was it. That was what snapped Gigi back to reality. She didn’t do this sobbing over girls stuff. Why was it different now?

Something was different about Crystal. Just by the weight of emotions she made the redhead feel. But such a strong heart break could give rise to strong joy and love. Maybe the pain was worth it for the high of love she could get.

Gigi: We can talk. This has been hard, trying to go on like my heart didn’t belong to someone who felt like they didn’t want it I love you too

It wouldn’t be that easy. Both girls knew that. But it was worth a shot.

Crystal had called Gigi shortly after. She had picked up the pieces unknowingly. They had a serious talk, agreeing to try no matter the risks but also to communicate. Gigi had tried to hold back how much Crystal had twisted her emotions but decided honestly was worth it. She had to be human. And for Crystal she could.

I don’t belong to anyone else

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #nicky doll #crygi #angst #lesbian au #winter #concrit welcome #submission #s12

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cheswirls · 3 years

Text

we come from the ashes (we leave under fire)

aight so now that im fully immersed in psycho pass again its time to drop the different routes of the sa psycho pass au. i think sabo and ace are just enough complex characters with different drives that they could fit into multiple roles in a pp au, so this is jus a fraction based on whats spoken to me. also, theres like, a touch of popular fanon characterization here and there but instead of far-off fanon its could-be-implied-from-canon fanon. regardless this is entirely to my taste.

also these aren’t full scenarios so some of them will cut off at odd moments!! they arent intended to be like outlines, jus my rambling thoughts. ill put a read more under the first one, theres 4 in total rn

route 1: e!sabo (former i) and i!ace [i: ace, lami | e: sabo, law, rayleigh, monet] -sabo is an inspector before ace at a young age (before turning 20) -sabo ends up being a well-rounded member of the team and soon becomes crucial to the overall success of missions -something happens that forces sabo’s hue to take a nosedive, and every little upset pushes him deeper, until his crime coefficient is so high the bureau is forced to remove him from the line of duty -knowing sabo’s innate prowess for the job, he’s placed in protective custody and forced to undergo mental therapy; however, this has the opposite effect, spiking his crime coefficient to almost unseen numbers (600+) -he spends three months in custody under observation, but as the number fails to drop, two key things are observed: 1, sabo is eerily calm for the most part, remaining near emotionless on the outside as a result of a coping mechanism learned through the attempted therapy, and for the most part functions like normal, aside from his absent personality; 2, the most part is there because sabo has brief psychotic breaks, most lasting mere minutes, but the recoil has him down and out of it for almost a full day, like someone with intense manic depression after an episode -knowing they can’t afford to lose a talent like sabo, and understanding the risks, the bureau brings him back under their care as a latent enforcer; aside from his shift in personality, and his lack of authority, sabo enters back into the life he had known before his crime coefficient skyrocketed -enter ace, three years after sabo’s reinstatement -ace and sabo are relatively close in age, but unlike sabo who joined the bureau of public safety immediately upon graduation, ace has a few years more of life experience under his belt before becoming an inspector -no one knows his ambitions or motives, and ace is careful not to let it slip, that he’s striving to uncover the situation that led up to his little brother losing his life -on ace’s first case, lami pulls him aside to say she was taking law, and wanted him to handle sabo and circle around; she warns ace not to let sabo overstep, because the power went to his head; ace asks ‘what are you trying to say?’ and lami tells him if he loosened sabo’s leash, the chain would snap off -sabo and ace, despite being in each other’s care, don’t mesh well together at first; sabo is intent to do things his own way, and is constantly berating ace for doing what he thinks is a second-rate job; the last thing ace wants is a latent criminal constantly correcting his choices and challenging his authority, but he just can’t seem to win with sabo -the first time ace witnesses one of sabo’s attacks is the same night he breaks from lami’s advice, letting sabo separate from him and monet to box in their suspect, monet makes a noise of disapproval when she sees sabo moving away, but when ace asks why, she only eyes him critically and says he’d already made his choice -they continue forward when lami contacts them through the comms, noting their target dot had stopped on the map and asking if ace had them in custody yet; ace admits he and monet were still on their way, so it was probably sabo, and lami cuts him off with a ‘sabo is alone??’ -shit, lami says, and orders him to get a move on, and to remember that they needed this one alive to link the motive to a previous case; her and the two enforcers with her would meet them there, already heading to the fixed location -it’s a frenzy to race to their destination, and ace notices along the way that his baton was missing from his person; monet mentions sabo must have taken it without his knowing, and ace opens his mouth to deny it, but he doesn’t get the chance to when they come out in an open area and find sabo burying the stolen baton into their culprit’s stomach -it’s clear that sabo had taken his time in brutalizing the person already, an when ace shouts over, asking what he was doing, mentions that sibyl’s judgement wouldn’t be enough, so he was doing it his way; ace immediately has problems with this, but him and monet are on an incline, a wide space still separating them from sabo, and his options are limited to pointing his dominator when it’s clear sabo has no intention of stopping, and hoping for the best -except, the best doesn’t happen, because sibyl scans sabo’s crime coefficient at way over 500 and still rising, and before ace’s eyes transforms into a lethal eliminator; sabo looks up, as if sensing this, and freezes as he’s met with the sight, with the dominator trained on him; it’s enough for the person under him to start squirming to get free, and ace doesn’t want to kill sabo, that wasn’t his intention by any means, but it wasn’t like there was a safety feature on dominators, so there was nothing he could do -but he could, because there was still a trigger, and as their suspect claws their way halfway out from underneath sabo, ace makes a decision, quickly pointing the dominator down as he fires, so that it hits their target instead of the enforcer; the person combusts, sabo drops his makeshift weapon and collapses to his knees, and ace’s dominator reverts to its usual state without a target to lock on -sabo still looks haunted, and its worse now that he’s absolutely covered in blood; he starts gasping for breath, curling his arms around his stained suit jacket, and falls completely as his legs give out; his hands shoot out to catch himself, but they keep slipping on all the blood on the ground, and at that moment ace doesn’t see a latent criminal, he sees someone his age looking utterly terrified, so he holsters his dominator and makes to move to help -but monet holds him back with an arm over his chest, watching sabo with a stern expression; ace looks at her incredulously and she tells him to wait in a stern tone, holstering her own dominator to activate her comm and alert lami -sabo’s panic attack has dissolved from breathing at this point, and he’s crying hysterically, one hand clenched in his hair; ace stands still and watches as lami’s group appears on the same platform, level with sabo, and take in the situation very quickly; monet releases him but he doesn’t move forward, and down below, lami ushers for law to stand in front of sabo, holding her dominator level with his chest -the read on the enforcer forces the dominator into paralyzer mode, and law sidesteps just as lami fires, ‘its time to sleep now’, so that it hits sabo instead, cutting off his hysterics as he sags fully to the messy ground -ace realizes then that there was a trick in the system, because when she had pulled off was not unlike what he had just done with his own dominator, delivering the judgement to a different target than the one scanned; lami later admits she’d learned it from the chief inspector upon insistence of the bureau head, for situations like these, because still in moments when it seemed like sabo was too far gone, the public safety bureau still considered him and asset they couldn’t afford to lose -ace isn’t suspended for his actions, but reiju makes it very clear he was on thin ice, and he and lami aren’t on speaking terms just yet; in the lull between cases, with their only lead splattered all over a back alley, ace opts to visit sabo in medical; he had a peculiar situation, the medic ward tells him, sabo up and about around 18 hours after being paralyzed, a little longer than usual, but not behaving like it by any means; sometimes he would fall unconscious, other times he was awake but completely listless, his eyes open but unseeing, his head refusing to rise off the pillows; the ward admits the enforcer would be like this for another half day, maybe longer, though his crime coefficient had dropped down by almost 150 points; when ace asks what that made it now, its with a chuckle he’s told sabo’s range is still exceedingly high, almost at 600 -ace keeps coming back, viewing sabo from behind the glass, until he starts to regain some function; when he responds to a question while having his iv changed, ace convinces the ward to let him take sabo the tea they were bringing in; sabo eyes him critically when he walks in, but ends up thanking ace when he reaches out to take the steaming mug; ace settles into the stool beside the medical cot and sabo lets him be, not questioning his presence, not until ace starts asking questions -but sabo’s anger at being asked why quickly dissipates, his body not able to keep up with the intense emotion, and he shrugs in lieu of an answer, drinks his tea; but ace isn’t leaving, and after a while and an empty mug, sabo admits he was trying to get their suspect’s crime coefficient to rise above 300, because he didn’t like the idea of bringing them in and locking them in a cell when there was a slim chance they could recover, after what they had done -ace is horrified by this, and it must show on his face, because sabo shrugs; that’s just how he is sometimes, he admits; his mind falls into a black pit, and he can’t escape, and when it’s finally over it takes forever to feel like himself again -ace admits lami had it out for him because he killed their suspect, and the laugh sabo produces in response is gruff; she’ll get over it, he says, she’s always like that, he says, she’s not a hard person to piss off, he says; ace asks suddenly why their relationship was so tense, and sabo shrugs, saying him and lami used to be tight, but then he became like this, and she no longer thought society had a use for him

route 4: e!sabo and e!ace (both former i) [i: ace, sabo | e: katakuri, kuzan, shinobu, rebecca] -this is the one i think would be the most fun, but ultimately wouldn’t advance anywhere, with both being latent criminals and being bound by what the position entailed -in this case ace, whose own emotions had always fluctuated and took a toll on his higher-than-average crime coefficient, falls first, driven to near despair when sabo is almost fatally injured during what was supposed to be a routine roundup -sabo had taken an enforcer and was forced into close-quarters combat, and before he could subdue whatever had caused the enforcer to rage, his crime coefficient dips enough for the stunner to paralyze him (thru the enforcer using their own dominator on sabo upon identifying his elevated psycho pass); left with very little option to struggle, sabo is lethally injured and left for dead before backup arrives -ace’s crime coefficient spikes when confronting the scene, and he doesn’t hesitant to kill the enforcer before rushing to sabo’s side; unfortunately, as sabo is rushed to emergency care, his absence does ruin to ace, whose number refuses to fall as his hue grows cloudier -when sabo wakes up, on a long road to recovery, ace is nowhere to be found, and the chief inspector reveals he had been arrested; sabo is frantic, only able to think of ace, and what he was going through now, and why this had to happen to ace of all people, and then of the small box he had nestled in a hidden space in their shared flat, something he would never get to use now -the bureau releases an inter-team statement that ace was not at fault for the enforcer’s demise, ruling it off with use of the dominator, but that didn’t excuse his crime coefficient from refusing to fall, and if he wanted to continue work for the bureau, had to be reinstated as an enforcer -the toll on their new life (ace living somewhere different, ace having a curfew, no longer having ace next to him every second of the day, no longer even to have him to hold at night) is heavy for sabo, and it doesn’t help that ace keeps saying it was expected, that he become just like his father after all -sabo grabs him by the cheeks and tells him to stop, please, bc that wasnt true and saying that would only make it worse, and didnt ace know how much he loved him for who he was already, and that ace was already perfect in sabos eyes; ace apologizes and promises to try better, and sabo breaks away, going on a mini tangent, saying how he couldnt handle it anymore and his hue was getting cloudy, and how ace had to do his best to get out, to stabilize, so that they could begin to return to some sort of sanity -ace promising to do that, and worrying over sabo’s declining mental state, because worrying over him shouldnt have been priority and yet sabo was fretting anyway, and sabo pulls back again to say this was the last time he would see ace for a while; when ace asks sabo admits he was getting institutionalized for treatment, bc it was the only thing he could think to do, and that he wanted ace to focus on getting out, even if he had to be demoted to an enforcer, bc at least he would be out in some sort of sense, and if sabo wasnt waiting for him then he would have to wait just a little longer -the realization of how much sabo was getting affected nearly kills ace, and the weight is heavy in his eyes, enough for sabo to see, and the ring box in his pocket is burning, and he doesnt even know why he brought it with him, bc its not like he could propose to a latent criminal anyway; ace knows what sabo going away means, and even if a thousand questions bubble in his mind, (what about the dog, what about the house, what about the bills, what ab-) he throws them all aside in favor of pulling sabo close, and holding him tight, and promising everything would turn out just fine, even if they would never live the way they used to before case x -(sabo goes home after being released to manage his and ace’s affairs, and ends up giving their dog away before fleeing to a mental facility) -sabo checks himself into a mental facility to deal with the sudden weight on his shoulders, sure that if he continued to suffer by himself he would end up in the same fate as ace -it doesn’t help, though; the facility sets him on a physical therapy track along with a stress recovery one, but the two don’t exactly work hand in hand, as sabo increasingly develops ptsd and more stress from the pt exercises -sabo spends an uncertain amount of time in the institution, and while he leaves nearly fully physically recovered, his psycho pass never regressed to where it was before he was injured -reiju, the chief inspector, comes to pick him up and bring him to the bureau; sabo asks what was going to happen to him on the car ride there, and reiju reveals she would give him a choice, and a handful of hours to think it over; once in her office, sabo finds ace waiting for him; reiju gives them a moment before settling, and tells sabo while he couldnt become an inspector again with his crime coefficient, he could settle for working as an enforcer for another division; she reveals more details re, he would be confined to the bureau’s tower, have restricted access, be limited regarding orders, be under someone’s strict command, etc etc; his other alternate was to undergo treatment in a cell in latent criminal housing, like ace had tried -sabo is given three hours to think it over, and reiju lets ace take him from the room; before ace can drag him far, he brings him to a sit-down with kuzan, shinobu, and one of the inspectors that had replaced them; its more of a reunion with the former two, with them sharing their experiences with the matter, and the new inspector saying it would be an honor to work with sabo, but would respect his decision either way, acknowledging that ‘becoming an enforcer wouldnt do anything to help his psycho pass, and was most likely going to make it worse’ -ace takes sabo to his room in the tower and they fall together on the couch; they have somewhat of a serious discussion about it all, because while ace would love to have sabo by his side, he knows it wouldnt be permanent like it used to be, because they would be on different divisions, they would most likely have separate living quarters, and their freedoms were greatly restricted; the other side is that sabo could potentially get better, and if his psycho pass recovered and was cleared, he could live on the outside again, he could be an inspector if he wanted, or he could do anything; he didn’t have to work for the bureau anymore if it was too much, whereas if his psycho pass was never fully cleared, he wouldnt have any sort of option, being confined to a cell -ace doesnt realize, but sabo has all but given up; hed spent so long in the hospital, and if that hadnt worked, how would being in a cell help any more?; he knows, logically, given enough time, things that hadnt worked before might begin to help, but he also knows that would be a long road to recovery, and right now he was only concerned with the short and easy; he dissuades ace in the gentlest way possible and reveals he would settle for an enforcer position, since the bureau would still have him, and this way he could be with ace again, as close to normal as they could get -ace doesnt know what to feel, because short term him feels gratified that he would have sabo back, but long term he knew sabo was giving up a shot at normal life again, and it killed him to acknowledge that; he doesnt react any one way or another, accepting sabos decision -reiju is much the same, taking his choice without any approval or disapproval; she makes a number of calls and system commands while sabo waits on the plush couch, and when she’s done sabo has an updated id card, badge, terminal access, a cleared desk with his confiscated items being moved to it, and funds for at least one suit; all the basics, along with one holo flipped to face his way, revealing a walkthrough diagram of a basic furnished apartment that had the potential to be his -when sabo questions the last part, reiju smiles, and puts two keys on the desk; one is the new apartment, and the other is a spare of ace’s; sabo is startled when he realizes the implications, and reiju’s smile turns knowing; she cautions him that he could always have a place of his own to escape to, but sabo doesnt hesitate to take the second key and hold it close -reiju tells him to retire for the night, and in the morning, he would report to his division’s staff room for the [evening/morning, trauma relive implications for evening, escapism for morning] shift, the same as ace’s timetable; if anything happened, he already knew standard protocol, and if anything didnt, it was more time spent unpacking to his desk and familiarizing himself with the team -ends (?) with sabo meeting sonia, who had joined the division during his absence, and lami, who he knew only in passing, and law, an enforcer he knew used to be an inspector like him; ends w sabo telling ace he hasnt given up, not just yet, but that he wanted to help people again in the meantime, even if that meant stretching out his recovery a little longer, and that ace better not have given up either, and ace affirming that he hadn’t

route 5: i!ace and i!sabo (turned e) [i: koby, sabo | e: rayleigh, law, izo, kuzan] [i: ace, sonia | e: sabo, law, ikkaku, izo] -for the most part, sabo and ace have life made; they’re married, they share a house, they’re partnered on the job in the same division, everything is as it should be -and then an incident occurs, and the first division is suddenly looking for a new inspector to replace the one that had lost, and to help close out the ongoing investigation -they end up choosing sabo, who is hesitant at first, but after getting debriefed on the case, jumps on the case; now things get a little rougher, longer hours for sabo, different timetables, multiple nights where he pulls all-nighters and resists the pull of his bed at home for his desk at work -ace becomes spiteful after being supportive for so long, almost unable to bear the stress of never seeing sabo for such long stretches of time; and their relationship becomes strained as a result, because sabo doesn’t want to move back down to a lower division now that he’s tasted the top -and then something goes wrong, and sabo comes home near dawn very awake and very afraid, and forgets that he and ace are mad at each other, and runs to him for comfort; ace stays awake with him until they both have to leave for work, never asking what was wrong, only being a soothing presence that ultimately amounts to nothing, when sabo is refused entry into the bureau for his bad psycho pass -(ace first noticing sabo’s hand shaking, and the fact that he could see his hand, that his gloves were off, was the first sign that something was very wrong. sabo lets ace hold him for a long time, try and work on getting him to breathe, and then calming him down, and then sabo bursts out crying, and ace quietly shushes him, drawing him closer, saying it was okay, whatever it was, it would be okay, they would move past it, together, because they did everything together and ace wasn’t going to leave him alone for this; this just makes sabo cry harder because he knows ace can’t follow, not with a clear mental hue, and its a big punch to the gut; ace stripping sabo of his suit jacket and holding him close, lying them on their bed, and finally as sabo’s cries become only harsh breaths, asks if he needed to skip work, take the day off; sabo doesn’t have to think long to know that was only delaying the inevitable, because his hue wasn’t going to change if he was home alone stressing or home with ace stressing -he knew what he’d been through was too much for either of them to handle by themselves, and being given one day to live in bliss and ignorance would only make the next day, when they had to return to the bureau, that much harder) -sabo and ace’s day-to-day lives are upheaved after this; sabo is stripped of his rank and authority, and suddenly instead of it being a rarity that him and sabo would cross paths at home, sabo is never home because he is not allowed to be -the bureau forces sabo to stay at a rehabilitation center and he does so for two long months, learning to control his emotions even as his crime coefficient never fully stabilizes below 100 again; after this time, before he’s released, the new division one inspector now partnered with ace pays him a visit and urges him to come back to div 1 with her, saying they could really use his help, that they still needed him, that he still had a purpose, and a chance, under sibyl -privately, sabo thinks to himself that the sibyl system is the entire reason his life is now in shambles; things would never go back to how they were, but at least if he rejoined the bureau as an enforcer, he could live at the psb and ace would be allowed to visit, as opposed to living in latent criminal housing in isolation -sabo accepts and ace tackles him they next time they meet at the bureau, nearly on the verge of tears, and their colleagues give them a minute to sort themselves; ace admits that he thought sabo still had a chance, that there was that story of an enforcer who had recovered and was able to rejoin society, and that he promised when sabo recovered enough to live on the outside again, they would both quit the bureau and live more peaceful lives; sabo has reservations about all these hopes, but he’s not in the mood for disappointing ace more than he already has, so he keeps his mouth shut -division 1 has almost been entirely restructured since sabo’s departure, but the case that had left the division devastated was still open-ended, much to his distress, but no new leads and a new distinct lack of things to follow up on leave the case virtually at a standstill; sabo vows to look into it on his own time, because it wasn’t something he was willing to let go just yet -ace catches him in the act, because ace is always watching him these days, but after sabo admits his intentions declares he wants to help too; seeing sabo willingly put himself into the line of fire again by opening the case back up does something to ace, makes him realize how much sabo is willing to push himself for others and for the sake of his job, and how that was a quality of his he’d always been in love with

route 6: i!sabo and e!ace [i: lami, sabo | e: ace, rebecca, monet, law] -in this one ace is a latent criminal with a high crime coefficient and is jaded from his past with roger, believing it to be his father’s fault and his father’s legacy that drove him over the edge -sabo is an upstart at the public safety bureau, and he has just recently transferred to the division ace serves in as an enforcer -ace is brash and uncompromising, not unlike other enforcers sabo had worked with but far more difficult (this is definitely the enemies to lovers route k? k) and the best advice sabo can get from his new coworkers are don’t even try with him -but it’s unlike sabo to give up without a challenge, and so he attempts to match ace, crazy stunt for stupid tactic for idiotic, rushed plan, enough so that after a bit ace goes from being annoyed to being slightly impressed sabo was willing to put himself through so much; not that he would ever admit it aloud, though -the turning point is sabo doing a daring move on a case that saves the life of another enforcer; ace turns the thought in his head, and decides he could respect sabo’s actions in that instance, because enforcers were replaceable and technically criminals with no futures, but sabo had put one before his own life anyway, and something about that touches ace in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time -their relationship evolves from that point, where ace will stop sabo from rushing in instead of letting the inspector risk himself for his own amusement, and generally tries to watch sabo’s back when the chance arises; it takes sabo a little while and a few prods from others to notice ace’s flip, but once he starts taking it in, his view of the enforcer changes little by little -because it’s not like ace is a bad person, per se; true, he was a brute and he could be vicious and he had a temper and a tendency to snap bones before asking questions, but he wasn’t always like that; he wasn’t like that to little rebecca, who was younger than him, or any of the victims they encountered on the scene that didn’t deserve the harsh sentiment; he didn’t have the energy to be nasty and self-serving all the time, and as sabo begins to watch for it, it shows more and more -it reaches a point, ace looking out for him, where when they’re on a dangerous scene confronted with the aftermath of something horrific, and sabo descends into a panic attack and nearly loses himself, it’s ace that stays by him the entire time and helps pull him from his mind, soothing him enough that his number drops to normal -from then on, the negative outlook they held of each other disappears near entirely; sabo still finds he struggles with the memories of that day, and ace more often than not is by his side when he’s consumed by thoughts, helping to ease him out -it happens late enough one night, with sabo hunched over his desk staring at his bright computer screen, pouring over scarce documents to a tough case, that he’s startled when he’s pulled from bad thoughts by a warm hand on his shoulder and an even warmer drink being pressed into his hand; ace convinces him, after an hour of fruitless effort of turning up anything new, to take a breather, at least until the sun was out; sabo agrees, almost too tired to function, and lets ace lead him from the room and into one of the spacious lobby areas, where they both collapse onto a couch; sabo doesn’t even notice ace running a hand through his light hair until he can fall asleep, or the way he’s caged in by ace’s legs, reclined against his front -when sabo wakes in the morning he is not alone, but ace is keeping distance; he’d waved around a mug of heavy espresso until the smell had sabo roused from sleep, crouched down in front of the couch, and sabo finds his head propped up by pillows that feel cold compared to . . he’s not sure what -monet enters into the lounge when sabo is sat up and a bit more awake, and pauses to eye him for a minute, until her mouth curves into a dangerous smirk; sabo asks but she shrugs, leaving without giving him a proper answer; later, in the office, sabo finds her and law hunched together, the two looking up at the same time to fix him with knowing looks that he doesn’t know how to respond to -sabo looks around and asks where lami was, since her shift just ended, and law tells him she was in his room several floors down, revealing when she needed rest but couldn’t afford to go all the way home for it (or stubbornly refused not to) then she had a spare key to his quarters so she could sleep without leaving the psb tower -sabo is mildly surprised by this, knowing the relationship between her and law but being unaware that inspectors entered into the rooms of enforcers, previously viewing the invisible boundary between the two as much more strict -but as he begins to observe more, he finds that maybe that wasn’t the case; and his own feelings regarding it all surface when rebecca has lunch with him one day, and admits that shes ‘never seen ace act the way he does with you with anyone before’

#saboace #writing #??? sure #op #if i ever write this itll def be like a oneshot series #i think i rambled too much here to have them b drabbles #but like def multiple fics under the same overarching name #im rewatching s3 again and the idea of the diver and the tether??#so so good hmmm but iunno abt a mentalist route #maybe i could restructure 2 or 3 to fit it #also i think i included dragon in 3 or 7 and i like that again #dragon challenging the system once in the past #and being a past figure that has consequences for the present cast #anyway im rambling too much heres the pp au stuff!!!

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cirrocumulation · 4 years

Text

this’ll largely be outta context , i gotta write a preface drabble for this probably, since this is the end to a build-up of events, but i wanted it out my brain, so have it if u like 😂

,,,

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Pavlova scoffs loudly at that, lip curling like she’s disgusted with the thought! “As if I’m just tryna follow you around! Why do you keep showing up in my life like some kind of haunt?!” She stomps towards him, but his shoulders bristle and she grinds to a halt with an indignant flinch; still, though, does she scowl. “Ever since you went fuckin’ crazy on Diecast and nearly got us all killed--!”

“I DIDN’T wanna fucking BE THERE,” He suddenly reels into a shout with his shoulders and body inclined forward. He feels a fire in his head, in his chest; Pavlova recoils further, but her teeth grit. She stamps a foot. “Tough fuckin’ shit, country bumpkin! You think anyone wants to be a part’a the Frieza Force?!” She doesn’t approach, but it doesn’t matter; it begins not to matter. Gramma can feel it, the simmering turning to a boil. He curls inward on himself, forehead in his palms, sweat beading across his hairline. “You ain’t fuckin’ special just ‘cause you got a little temper tantrum problem!” Shut up, shut up--He’s itching, his fingers are itching, and he’s afraid he’ll start carving up his own flesh if he isn’t careful.

“Shut--Shut up--,”

“Now I got a new start here in this dinky little Time Patrol business, and I’m gonna take advantage of it! And none’a your intimidation tactics are gonna get in my way--!”

That’s not what he wants, That’s not what I want; He takes a shallow breath in.

“But maybe! I’ll reconsider; ‘cause I don’t know how willin’ I am--” She’s still talking, Gods damned, she’s still talking-- “To be a part of some cult club like this for some God I ain’t ever heard of--” Shut up, Shut Up, “That employs all these fuckin’ FREAKS--!” Prompts a loud, warning grunt in her direction, not unlike a growl, or even a muted scream, but she still points a claw in his face,

“Just like you--Just like you always been--!”

And there isn’t much to see beyond white, or maybe red;

Something in his skull dully snaps.

Chronoa feels the clammy chill shake her shoulders before Trunks’s call reaches the Time Nest;

She gasps and her chair clatters back as she darts away from her desk; all at once, there’s nausea, adrenaline, fear and anxiety and dread and she feels lightheaded and this effect is unmistakable, but how? Where? Why? Is it Fu? Is it someone new? What--

Normally, yes, she would send Time Patrollers to investigate anything treacherous, it’s ill-advised to run into things herself head-first, but this--immediately--isn’t Time Patroller work!

This is--pure demonic energy!

And no one else can interface with it without risking their own physical and mental integrity in the process--

So who--?

Trunks meets her at the gate, fretful himself as he ushers her with a point, “O--Over there, a sudden spike in demonic energy by the Mushroom District--!”

Frustrated, she’s already off the ground, grabbing Trunks by the collar as she leaves to drag him with her--“Trunks, who is it?”

“R--Right! It’s--”

Chronoa’s eyes fixate on the beacon of climbing bright, heavy red in the distance, and she’s already left him behind, rocketing away as quickly as possible.

Pavlova isn’t sure she’s ever felt such a palpable sense of terror and dread blend in her chest at the same time--

And it only skyrockets the louder Gramma screams, the more his ki literally disintegrates the terrain around him, the faster she runs away but he’s still right behind her and is this how she dies--?!

Chronoa reaches skyward, gasping for a moment of focus as she breaches the radius of that sinister ki; in the distance, the sky twinkles gently, a small burst--a planet, a plain and glorified space rock--safe with distance--

A small hand cinches anywhere it can grab; Gramma’s poor ponytails, she unfortunately has no time to regard, as a shrill and desperate Kai-Kai takes both her and him away.

Pavlova--collapses, just as Trunks clamors onto the scene. He looks just as disoriented as she does, if not quite as pale and terrified. Just a beat passes between their exchanged looks, and Trunks can’t get a word out to ask if she’s okay before Chronoa is back, between them, wheezing;

“Miss Chronoa--!” He begins, hurrying over to her side; she manages to stop him with as reassuring of a glance over her shoulder at him as she can, a wry, tired smile as her hands shake, and she descends to the ground with teetering feet. Pavlova looks between them, unsure if she should say something, or simply leave as quickly as possible--but she casts a look down at the ground where Chronoa stands, still black, charred, smog-ridden, like the earth itself is riddled with some sort of poison. Chronoa holds out her hands and takes a deep breath; a shimmer, soft light spreads among the soil...

Distantly, a dull, but chilling--thunder. rings out. Pavlova’s head whips around, and Trunks looks skyward;

That new planet is gone as soon as it arrived, in a dazzling, horrible explosion in its place. Pavlova feels her stomach drop.

She was right, she was right, he’s a freak and she’s right, what the hell are these people thinking, keeping the likes of him around here--?!

“Stop it.”

She spins back around; Chronoa, fists balled at her sides, the ground under her feet--healed and new, what the hell? She’s frowning up at Pavlova from the renewed crater, frustration evident in her brow. “You’re not here to berate and pass judgement on your fellow patrollers, Miss Pavlova.”

“But he’s a freak!” Should she know better than to speak out against a supposed God? Sure, but this is all quite bat-shit insane, and she’s got no reason to believe this ‘god’s got any worth to her name, if she lets shit like this happen--!

“He’s a man, with a very unfortunate condition.”

“’Unfortunate condition’, my ass, capable of tearin’ up a whole galaxy! This entire establishment, up in smoke--!”

“I won’t let that happen.” Pavlova doesn’t buy it, but such resolve--it prompts her to stop trying at it, less she just provoke more reason for her heart to go into cardiac arrest..

“Gramma is a very specific case--one we’ve been trying to heal ever since he got this way...” She looks to the sky, and concern sews through her lips; “... But now, I...” And presses her hands together, clenches fists in the fabric of her shirt as she mumbles. “This is the worst it’s ever been...”

There goes Pavlova’s stomach, again, plummeting like a lead weight.

And Chronoa disappears again, in an instant, leaving Trunks and Pavlova to stew in another awkward silence.

Thrashing,

Crushing,

Splitting,

Tearing,

It had always boiled and ached, steaming terribly under his skin;

Encased like a smog, howling like a beast,

Scratching and screaming and clawing at his skin, let it out, let it out, just let it out and watching it all VANISH,

He’d choked on restraint and begged for patience and what, for what, all for what,

It’s all GONE,

He’d clamored for any sense of--sense, any amount of just a little longer, wait a bit, stop it, wait a bit wait a bit, it’ll pass, it’ll go away; it’ll all be over one day. it’ll all be better one day.

It’ll all be GONE ONE DAY,

He’d felt like he was suffocating,

And when it all finally burst open,

Felt cracks and crumble beneath his fingers and under his feet and nothingness,

His heart is racing; he can’t hear his pulse in his ears, but is it because it doesn’t beat, or it beats too fast?

He sees red; he hears ringing and crashing, trembling of the very core of a planet as it shrivels in the face of his will;

And isn’t that

Lovely?

Clarity reaches his retinas, and feels like he’s suffocating again;

Chronoa’s hands are on his numb, electric shoulders. He feels new ground under his feet.

Now, is usually when he would collapse. Meet knees to rock and pass out. That’s what he recalls; that’s all he ever recalls.

Now?

Now, why doesn’t he still?

All he does is blankly stare up, the debris of a once-whole space rock are still scattering in a brilliant and foreboding glow in the sky. Chronoa is saying his name; but he doesn’t even know how to respond, let alone that he should.

Why doesn’t he ache? Why doesn’t he fall?

Why does warmth--not of fire, not of hate, not of anger or fury--but some churning and wretched comfort, of all things, why of all things? permeate his chest and settle like something heavy and vile has made a new home, permanent and immobile and now stable like a new heartbeat, deep-seated in his veins?

He’s relieved, and disgusted, and excited, and appalled;

He’s dizzy.

Teetering lightspeed between the deepest pits of despair he’s ever felt, and yet the vastest expanses of nonequivalent and ultimate satisfaction--will do that to someone.

#drabbles #kiverse #gramma #pavlova

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demytasse · 5 years

Text

[Shinra & Shizuo] Inebriated Idiocy

The situation required contemplation of certain moral ramifications, as brief as that consideration might last.

On one hand, alcohol was said to be the window to someone’s truest thoughts; bring about their most genuine feelings and unconscious desires. On the other hand, Shinra was an intellectual that keenly understood the human psyche; he knew better than to believe societal nonsense. In actuality, alcohol only lowered someone’s inhibitions enough to vocalise thoughts exactly as they formed; this included, but wasn’t exclusive to situational opinions, primal reactions to anything remotely sexual, and sober observations that hadn’t been sussed out.

So honestly, Shizuo letting himself into Shinra’s apartment with an odd request might have coincidentally been his own influence, the other day asking for blood and marrow samples in jest, yet again. Which the tease seemed to continue its bumble ‘round his friend’s absent mind.

Not having much going on up there must explain why it’s still relevant.

His drunken stupour was no different than a conclusion from a simple dream; what was sorted alongside other curious tidbits gained while conscious, and that scientific proposal hadn’t been determined trash or data just yet, despite it being the same ol’ same old.

That being said…

“What other opportunity would I have short of drugging him myself?” Shinra hummed; gathered vials and tools, bounced through his preparation. “Morally speaking it checks out if I didn’t administer the drug. After all, he came to me pre-doped! Haha."

He glanced over at Shizuo who somehow managed a cool guy pose upon the examination table, simultaneously a blathering mess — slurring incomprehensible words and half-baked thoughts. All to which seemed on par with what Shinra normally mocked, so it assured that no bad karma, nor bad blood would arise.

”…it was the least I could do,“ Shizuo concluded what had been internal dialogue.

Shinra focused on his assembly, "hmm~? I didn’t catch what you did."

"Drink.”

“Then that wasn’t the least you could do, right? That would’ve been not drinking, since doing nothing is the less than something active.”

Shizuo looked annoyed. “Meant I didn’t drink randomly, asshole. I did it ‘cause…” he spaced, pinched his nose. “…ugh, there’s a reason. Just…whatever.”

“That’s fine, Shizuo. Your oldest friend doesn’t need an excuse for your impromptu visit. Especially since you’re granting me the honour of—”

“Tom!” A heavy hand slammed on the table.

Shinra jumped — juggled a device, caught it by the tubular tail before it hit the floor.

“E-ehh?” his pulse refused to steady.

“Tom’s birthday. We went for drinks. 'Parently Vorona’s a heavyweight.”

Shinra laughed, kind of embarrassed for his friend. “I don’t think that’s actually the term you’re going for…"

"She cheated.”

“How so?”

“She’s Russian.”

“You’re honestly the type to play into stereotypes, Shizuo?”

He groaned, “she shoved vodka on me. 'Don’t handle it well.”

Of course, it’s some oddball connection, nothing offensive.

“And she knew that?”

“No.”

“So it was more that you couldn’t handle the defeat!”

The drunk grunted. “Ya wanna die?”

Shinra waved in mercy, “no no! Let’s just move on!!”

Though the more Shizuo spouted trash fragments, the more difficult it was for Shinra to sway his conscience that this was alright, as maybe the blood alcohol level was higher than he’d anticipated.

Every step of drawing blood was a joke to Shizuo. He laughed while his sleeve was rolled up, mocked the concentration Shinra wore while he struggled to stick the needle in; knocked the doctor’s glasses askew like a young brat that thought himself a slapstick comedian.

Unamused, Shinra adjusted his frames with a latex-free wrist. “Please stop.”

“I kinda felt bad. Told ‘im thirty was just a number,” he disrupted the blood-pull with a messy gesture.

“Shizuo, why are you so animated?!”

“He said he was twenty-seven! Whoops.”

“Yeah, you’re an idiot, we get it,” Shinra paused between a third attempt. “Probably, haha.”

It was then that he noticed how flush his patient was; how boyish his crinkled features were, and how Shizuo’s jovial nature was too foreign to be anything but drunkenness. Blurredly he watched the other above half-mast lenses, but a thought with prescription clarity hit him in result of the study — the vision of a perturbed Celty demanding that her held out PDA be read.

//It’s taking advantage of Shizuo!// //!!! N-n-not in that way, p-pervert!//

It wasn’t actually Celty’s textual wisdom, but his own beratement spoken through her beautiful voice, that of course he’d long ago created for her in place of having none to speak with. It was a flurried dissuasion he wouldn’t follow without her image affixed, whether in physical or mental form.

Thus Shinra was defeated by his own imagination.

“Come on,” he sighed, “I’ll set you up on the couch for the night."

“Oh…uh, sure.”

Shizuo stumbled off the table and stabilised when a hand supported his back to send him along the path to the living room. As Shinra motioned his follow, he spotted a rolled bandage that he’d previously readied.

His decade awaited experiment may have been a bust, but he had an idea that might give him a chuckle the next morning.

—

The recovering drunk studied a cross at the crook of his elbow. It screamed at his memory bank in vibrant fuchsia; with consternation Shizuo recognised the bandage as he recalled swaths of highschool peers wore them after donating blood; an annual fashion accessory that Shizuo never got to sport — only ever able to bling the trash cans with broken needles.

That indicated only one thing in the present: he’d been pin-pricked by an advantageous prick, and he was hardly impressed with how Shinra tagged him without any recollection.

"Oh! You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be,” the devil spoke at the doorway, audaciously donned his goofy grin, with a coffee mug in hand.

“Shinra…” he growled, “wanna explain this?”

“I’m curious to hear what you think it means! I wouldn’t be shocked if you’re either right or wrong.”

The silence grew stronger, Shizuo’s annoyance grew palpable, and for a split moment Shinra mused over the spontaneous prank.

Perhaps I got tipsy off the atmosphere last night and made my own drunken regret…

Which he externalised as a solo ‘eep!’, a wild scramble upon slippery slipper footing; an aerial trail of coffee in his wake.

To the carpet’s relief, the liquid was suspended mere inches above it, encapsulated in shadow. With luck, Celty formed it within a second’s notice as she was hastily passed by two scuttling idiots.

“I’m innocent! Innocent, I swear!”

“Like hell ya are!”

Celty puffed out air too exhausted for the early hours.

At least it’s spilt coffee and not blood spill.

—

It took a few laps around the apartment for the duo to wind up on opposite couches in a truce. Celty, their moderator, sat close at Shinra’s side to prevent a young death.

“You see, Shizuo, as you claimed you were in full control of your faculties, so I kindly decided to fulfill your request.” Shinra rubbed at a wallop injury at his crown. “which seemed a fair assumption since you weren’t acting any less intelligible than usual."

He was forced to squint while Celty futzed with the bent plastic and metal of his glasses.

“Lucky you, I’m perceptive enough to notice little details which proved that you were, in fact, inebriated. I stopped before I collected any samples.”

Whether or not Shizuo’s grunt was an invitation for the rest of the schpeel, or if it was an indignant ‘fuck off’ made no difference. “Feel free to leave a tip for my better judgement. I know it’s not customary for doctor visits, but I’m never too humble to decline monetary praise.”

A shadow placed glasses back on his nose, but he immediately let them slip back down when a glare across the table was in clear view. The hangover effect must of have worked mental lapses between Shizuo’s comprehension of insults, thus he remained in a slump with exhausted shadows below his cold eyes.

"Yanno, that better be the treatment you give Celty, or so help me…”

“A-ah, she can’t get inebriated in the first place, or drink for that matter—”

“So you’d take advantage of her if she could??”

“No, no! Never! If anything I want her to reveal her own desires to have me sweep her into fits of romance…” he darted his eyes from Shizuo’s disgust.

”…buuut I better let that topic be laid to rest.“

—

"Honestly…I almost wish he’d just done it.”

//Really?//

Shizuo nodded in between takes of smoke, “maybe it’s about time I figure out what makes me…me. You know, so I can control myself better…or something.”

//That’s a noble thing to do, Shizuo…//

He shook his head, wasted half of his cigarette when he extinguished it on the deck railing before he brushed ash into his hand.

//Maybe do it when you’re sober, though. That way you can feel good about the decision to better yourself and not have it be a drunken decision you accept.//

“You know,” he smiled, “I like that.”

It wasn’t odd that he agreed with Celty, it was that he wanted his abnormality to be experimented on by his dysfunctional friend; that he was finally ready to face the facts and learn how to work with his condition. Despite that realisation, it was best to ask Shinra with sobriety.

“Might make him pony up the cash for my blood, though. It’s a hot commodity, right?”

Celty chuckled with a bob of her shoulders.

—

“And that’s why I always trust my doctor’s instincts over Shizuo. In this case, causality didn’t result in my casualty and I can rest in peace standing six-feet above ground and not under it! Hmm…I should pay respects at the nearest shrine for good measure.

“At anyrate, I’ll take advantage of the opportunity to showcase Celty’s handiwork of my repaired glasses, a token of her dedication and love for all to appreciate! Even if they’re imperfect, they’re perfect to me. So let’s think of this as a public service announcement, kids: don’t drink and make hasty decisions!”

—

AN: Shinra breaking the fourth wall is one of my favourite things; it’s delightful. (O´▽`o)~♡

Based on one of the headcanons I wrote for Shizuo in a character meme, except it’s a little goofier than when I wrote the HC. Probably because I made it primarily from Shinra’s perspective. \(=~=)/ Thank you, @monopsys for the inspiration to actually write this!

#kishitani shinra #heiwajima shizuo #celty sturluson #shinra kishitani #shizuo heiwajima #durarara #durarara!!#drrr #drrr!!#durarara fanfic #durarara fanfiction #celty #fanfic #fanfiction #gen fanfic #celty durarara #durarara headcanons #demytasse fanfiction #demytasse fanfics

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detroitbecomevulcan-blog · 5 years

Text

think too much (DBH Reed900 Star Trek AU)

Pairing: Gavin/RK900

Word Count: 1200

Summary: Gavin loved talking to Nines through the bond. He just wasn’t very good at it.

(or, the Star Trek AU nobody asked for)

According to anyone who’d ever met Gavin Reed, even in passing, he wasn’t relationship material.

It was something he’d heard his entire life— growing up, his own parents had constantly berated him for being unpresentable. His friends had always said they could never imagine Gavin ending up in a serious relationship. When he finally reached dating age, partner after partner proved this to be true.

They would leave, and Gavin would be alone.

He threw himself into his career, chasing promotions and ranks like nothing else mattered. Because, for someone with two friends and no chance of anything more, nothing else really did.

He was always going to be alone, and by the age of 36, he’d just kind of accepted it as a fact of life.

Until Nines.

Nines was everything he could have hoped for and more. He was attentive, sweet, and just on the right side of scathing— although nobody would ever believe him about any of those things. To any outsider, Nines was the same as any other Vulcan, if not even more emotionless. His persistently unimpressed demeanour fell particularly cold against Connor’s sunny aura.

Connor, the least Vulcanlike Vulcan that Gavin had ever met.

In any case, the average person who passed judgement on Nines tended to be astronomically incorrect. He was full of a unique kind of charm, and quick-witted in a way Gavin had never known in anybody else. Nines was one of the only people who managed to keep up with Gavin’s antics.

‘Gavin?’

A warm kind of pleasure bubbled through Gavin’s chest as he heard the voice— Nines was speaking to him through the bond.

‘What’s up?’ he asked, not without effort. He loved talking through the bond, but he wasn’t great at it. Yet.

‘I will be joining you soon. Please ensure your lunch is nutritious, this time.’

With an eye-roll, Gavin changed his replicator order. Substituting regular pasta for whole wheat pasta would do. ‘Whatever,’ he shot back.

‘Thank you, ashayam.’

A prickly heat rose to Gavin’s cheeks faster than he could stop it, and he knew he was caught when a tall figure crowded behind him. Not too close for humans. Far too close for Vulcans.

“You appear to be blushing,” a low voice came from behind him. It took Gavin a second to realise that Nines had switched to speaking out loud.

‘Fuck off. I’m not.’

He barely even realised he’d spoken through the bond. Had no time to think about what that meant, because Nines had leant down to press a quick kiss to the back of Gavin’s head.

Whirling around, Gavin fixed Nines with a shocked expression. “That was forward.”

Forward for a Vulcan in public, anyway. Connor had told him once that even holding hands was prohibited to bonded couples on Vulcan.

‘It is only logical to protect what belongs to me,’ came the smug reply.

Gavin could see why he’d kept that one between the two of them.

He was new to this whole telepathic bond thing. He’d never expected to be jealous of somebody’s telepathy skills, but... it came so easily to Nines.

Gavin did seem to be improving, however. He practiced sometimes— he might even try to send over an image if he felt particularly confident.

Outside of those times of intense concentration, Gavin had little to no control over what he sent. He’d reached the level of being able to send over thoughts whenever he wanted to— and fuck, was that a cause for celebration. It had only taken him six months of being bonded to Nines.

One thing he couldn’t master, though, was shielding his thoughts. It wasn’t like he wanted to hide anything from Nines. Part of the whole ‘mind link’ thing was that you trusted someone to open up completely to. It had scared the shit out of Gavin at first, but he’d never considered how happy he would be to settle with somebody who’d seen everything, and still wanted him.

Anyway.

Gavin had trouble shielding his thoughts. Often, Nines’ telepathic voice would drift over to Gavin, informing him that he’d sent another stray thought over.

It was always mundane things, like musing over what he’d have for breakfast the next day. Once, it was a math problem. Nines had promptly responded with the answer, and Gavin managed to impress a colleague that day.

Today, it wasn’t quite that.

The slow burn of lust had settled deep into Gavin’s stomach in the middle of his shift, when he let his mind wander. He’d had nothing else to do, anyway. He let his thoughts drift to the night before— a long night. They’d both had some time off, and decided to spend the evening together. A date night, of sorts.

It had been a bubble of domestic bliss, and fuck, Gavin never thought he’d be the type for that shit. It turned out he was exactly the type for that shit. Especially when the evening ended with Nines pressing him slowly into the bedsheets, eyes burning with the wild lust Gavin knew Nines kept just below the surface.

He was interrupted with the closest thing he’d ever heard to a hiss from Nines came through the bond.

‘Gavin.’

Startling, Gavin sat up. ‘Are you alright, babe?’

‘I am trying to work.’

Gavin frowned. ‘What? I know, I’m— oh. Fuck. Sorry.’

Wincing, Gavin did his best to pull his thoughts back. Nines had tried to teach him techniques to do it— he’d called it shielding.

‘What are you doing?’ came almost immediately. A surge of confusion came through the bond, a hint of hurt. Even with everything else, that was the hardest part of the bond to get used to.

‘I’m trying to shield it.’

The confusion stopped. The hurt didn’t.

‘Please do not.’

‘Isn’t it tiring, having all of my annoying human emotions bombarding you all the time?’ Gavin knew his expansive and rapidly-changing set of emotions would be too much for a human to deal with, so he couldn’t imagine what it would be like for a Vulcan.

‘It feels as though are trying to block our bond.’

“Oh.”

‘Oh.’ Gavin took a minute to frown to himself. ‘I would never. Not unless you wanted.’

The bond fell quiet for a few moments. So long that Gavin began to wonder if Nines had gotten distracted and forgotten the conversation.

‘The constant presence of your mind within mine makes me happier than I have ever wished to be.’

The raw emotion bleeding through the bond hit Gavin right in the chest, and he forgot to breathe for a second. It was impossible to lie through a bond, and that— that was almost too much to process.

‘I love you,’ he thought back. It didn’t seem nearly enough, but when Nines could feel the pure love seeping through Gavin’s veins, he knew it would do.

#detroit become human #dbh #gav900 #reed900 #dbh fic

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