#again- ask to tag- already got blood here just wondering if i need something like eating or unsanitary | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eyebagshawty · 3 months

Note

Hey, I really like your works! I wondered if you could make something about suicidal reader and astarion, gale, halsin and anyone you feel like.

But only if you're comfortable with it. Some general hurt/comfort would be ok. Best inspiration 💛

Blurbs for Male Companions Comforting a Suicidal Tav

Pairings: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Wyll

Warnings/Tags: some canon typical violence, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, angst, comfort, some are durge Tav, probably a dead dove do not eat situation

A/N: As someone who struggles with this type of thing daily, I really enjoyed expressing my interpretation of this; it was therapeutic in a way. These are blurbs, so it may not be as developed as I would like, but I hope you guys like it! Let me know if you want a part two with the ladies :)

Astarion

Marcus had kidnapped Isabelle. The sweet cleric had welcomed your party into the arms of Last Light Inn, and somehow you were too weak to save her. It was your fault.

Your. Fault.

Astarion had comforted you after, saying you couldn’t have known you would need every last bit of your magic to give your help. You couldn’t have known you would need to rest. It was just as much of a surprise to him, to Shadowheart, to Karlach. But the more you stare at Nettie’s wyvern toxin — more of a keepsake at this point than a tool for battle — the more you decide you should’ve known. Jaheira’s expression after Last Light had fallen, it’s burned into your memory. You had promised her your only intention was good, but there was still something in her eyes that showed blame.

As you watch your companions move around camp and settle next to the fire, your left hand subconsciously lifts your dagger from its holster; your right hand coming up to your mouth to open the seal of the wyvern toxin. Where could you even go from here? There was no moon lantern, but no reason to go back. You don’t even have anywhere to go back to if you think about it.

You really are a monster, the tadpole your own scarlet letter. The dagger is slathered with the wyvern toxin, and as you smile at your lover from across camp the dagger makes a shallow slice into your thigh just out of sight.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed guys, we’ve got a lot to plan tomorrow about where to go from here,” you mumble, your eyes slightly glazed from the poison entering your system. Your companions nod in agreement, each one heading to their tent to prepare for bed. Astarion, however, watches you. His brow furrows, and he’s about to offer for you to sleep in his tent again, but you’re already in front of him. “Hello love, I know it’s a bit early into, well, us. But I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight.”

Astarion gently takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles. “Of course my sweet,” he whispers. But the closer you get to him, the weirder you smell. He can smell the familiar bouquet of your blood, just a trace of it, but there is a sour note in there. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” As he looks back up to your eyes you let out a sob you’d been holding since earlier that day. His eyes widen; he isn’t good at comfort but for you he can try. “Darling what’s wrong?” He prods, needing to help you in your state.

You feel you can’t verbalize it, so your tadpole nuzzles up to his, asking for entrance. He accepts, and the images of your actions, your thoughts, your feelings flood into his mind. After the connection breaks you crumple to the ground, the poison entering the later stages.

Astarion’s thoughts immediately clear as he stares down at you in horror. He gathers your body into his arms and runs to Shadowheart, your seemingly now small and delicate form writhing within them. Shadowheart stands as she sees him running. “What happened Astarion?” She sternly quips, her eyes softening at the sight of you.

“They… it was one of those winged horrors. It poisoned them. Please help them. Please.” Astarion looks down at your eyes as they twitch and gaze blankly towards the sky. Shadowheart eases an antidote and a greater health potion into your mouth. Once you have your faculties about you once more, you lean your face into Astarion’s chest and weep. “Shh my love, let’s get you to bed.”

He lays you down gently to the various pillows in his tent, his every vein screaming to run. He isn’t ready for this kind of care and work a relationship requires. What am I thinking? It’s Tav, not some sorry bloke from a tavern. Get yourself together.

“I’m sorry. That was a pathetic idea for me to have, I know you might not want to explore this any further and I’ll still help you with-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” he mutters as he strokes your cheek with his fingers. “I’ve been right where you are before. Nowhere to go further but nothing to go back to, hmm?” You nod and he gives you a sad smile. “I find that I’m more happy than ever to be alive right now. Well, unalive but that’s no matter. I have you. We will find a way to get that damned moon lantern. I’ll bite everyone in this camp to take a break for a day. Whatever you need. I’m here and I… I love you.” He definitely didn’t think of saying the L word now of all times, but as a surprise to him it feels perfectly right.

“I love you too. Please just hold me.”

And so he does.

Gale

As you wake to the blinding light of the sun, restraints tug at your wrists. The memories of the last night come flooding back into you. The fear in Gale’s eyes as you bit at him that he had tried to hide, the way you kept failing to break through the urges to speak to him. He was so sweet to you. He didn’t deserve it. You love him.

“Glad to have you back with us my love,” Gale whispers into your ear as he frees your wrists and ankles from the restraints. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the fire. “Breakfast is ready. You told me your favorite is an omelet with bacon and some tea?”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to do this for me. I was being dreadful to you,” you mutter, looking down at the food.

“Of course I did. Our love knows no bounds, right? Now, eat. Baldur and his gate are waiting for us.” He kisses your head and you force a smile, shoving the food into your mouth as if you aren’t sick to your stomach with yourself.

The fight in the astral prism had put everyone off kilter. When you had found out the protector in your dreams, the person you needed to trust with your life, was a mindflayer, you only wanted rip each tentacle off its face and eat them as it watched. You did trust it. You were just so deplorable you thought its intestines would look beautiful around its neck to hang outside of your tent as decoration.

You can’t stand yourself anymore. Not just your actions, but your body. The urges make your body hurt, make your head pound and your stomach wretch. You never see a person in the mirror, you see a diseased sack of flesh squealing to be kept alive.

Gale holds you in his lap, leaving soft kisses on your neck as he reads one of his unusually large tomes. You feel disgusting. You will never deserve something nice like this. “I’m going to go see if I can spot the city from that building over there love,” you whisper as you kiss his cheeks and stand up, your stomach twisting as he gazes at you with loving eyes. He can’t love this, can he?

“Do you want me to tag along? I love a good tower as much as the next wizard,” he asks softly as he rubs your sides with his warm hands. You shake your head and force another smile. His brow lightly furrows but he shakes it off and presses a kiss to your lips in parting.

You find yourself sitting on the edge of the tower roof overlooking all of Baldur’s Gate. It has been a couple of hours, and you decide you don’t want to know any more about Orin or the makings of the absolute. Something in your mind tells you it will be the end of a lot of things if you find out. You shakily stand, letting out a ragged breath as pebbles skitter off the edge from under your feet. You close your eyes, exhale, and lean forward, when you fly through the mist into Gale’s tent. You let out a broken cry as warm and strong arms wrap around you, smelling of parchment and tea leaves.

“My love, I’ve felt the immanence of our situation for a while, and when Mystra abandoned me I thought I was as good as a newborn gnoll, destined for nothing but madness. But darling, what were you thinking?” He mutters into your hair.

“The urges won’t- nothing will stop. At my core I’m evil, something to be exhausted. I can’t-“

“Tav, I wouldn’t be as in love with you as I am if these things you said about yourself were true. I would give up my tressym to Astarion if it meant I could relieve any of your pain. Don’t tell her I said that though, Tara would never let me hear the end of it.” You let out a quiet chuckle, his dry humor always helping. “Now let’s sleep, no matter what this packed and unforgiving city does to us we will get through it together.”

“I love you, please, please don’t leave.”

“I would never dream of it.”

Halsin

Orin has captured Gale, and you feel helpless. Did you really not know your friend well enough to see that a shapeshifter was in his place? You have known him for months at this point. And yet, it was your fault for not checking in with him. For getting in that petty fight over the crown of Karsus that made you both ignore each other.

As you and your party trudge once again through the sewers, Astarion and Shadowheart both bombard you with questions about their personal needs within the city.

“Shadowheart, I understand we need to go to the House of Grief but Gale could quite literally be dead right now,” you assert softly, trying to show that she means just as much to you.

“Ugh, Gale. Of all times we have to be in a pickle it has to be over him and right now,” Astarion mutters to himself. You try to push down your frustration but the smirk on his face pushes you over the edge combined with his next words, “You’re the one that’s supposed to be making the rounds, darling. I can take Shadowheart to the house, and you and bear boy can find the bootmuncher.”

As shameful as it is for you, tears burst from your eyes as anger and anxiety take over. “So go. I don’t care anymore since you have never gone out of your way for us. I… fuck!” You slam your sword onto the ground and walk yourself back to cool off.

As Astarion builds up his retort, hurt and defensiveness flashing across his expression, Halsin steps in front of you protectively. “Calm down, Astarion. This does not need to be a fight. Let’s just break for the day. Come, my heart.” As he takes your hand comfortingly in his, you feel a gnawing dread seeping into your bones. This was all your fault, and you keep burning bridges with people you care for and you don’t know how to stop.

At the end of the day you find yourself in the middle of the woods, further from camp than Halsin liked, but it was your privacy; you asked for it and he would respect it. You stared down at your sword, your hands jaunting out to hold it at an awkward angle towards your chest. It had been like this for around an hour; you couldn’t even do this correctly, thinking about how everyone would grimace if they found you like this . Fuck it.

As the knife glides through your padded armor, a large hand places itself on your shoulder. It’s warm, and it smells like herbs and cinnamon. “My heart, please. This is not the way. We’ve come so far on this journey, together, and almost nothing has ever gone wrong. Silvanus guide me, please speak. I need to hear that you are okay,” Halsin chokes out, his voice thick with concern.

“It’s just… I would have known if Gale was acting weird. If I hadn’t pushed him away. I’m doing the same to Astarion, I’ll do it to all of them. When someone goes Illithid it will be on me. Hells we’re taking a break and he could be anywhere.”

“As much as we all love you little one, there is no leader. Nobody could have seen that coming. I had choice words with Astarion, and he would love to speak with you. Everything is handled, I just need you to understand that we can take the weight off of your shoulders occasionally. I love you with everything inside of me. Please know that you are loved.”

The sword clatters to the dirt, and Halsin brings you into his arms; a bear hug in every sense of the term. “I guess I will need Astarion to sew this back up,” you mutter, finger the frayed threads above your heart.

“That sounds like a great idea, little one. I’ll put on some tea for when you’re done.” He kisses your head and walks you back to camp, his arms never leaving your waist.

After a cathartic conversation with your resident vampire, a big brown cave bear awaits you in your tent with blankets and tea.

Wyll

On the dock overlooking the Chionthar, a blade glares up at you from your worn fingers. The Netherbrain is dead, your friends are free from the things that bind them, but you don’t know if it’s the same for you. Nobody forced you to create the Illithid plot with Enver Gortash, nobody forced you to kill Alfira. Her face will haunt you forever, what you did to her in a cold sweat during the middle of the night.

Sure, you had given up Bhaal’s inheritance, but it was still your skin that was covered in blood. It was still your face that bit and spit at the urge’s victims. It was with your eyes that you looked down at Alfira’s cold and eviscerated body. Wither’s had resurrected you in the temple, but you still felt shame creep into your veins. You weren’t a new person, you just forgot.

You saw Wyll hugging Karlach, her new Illithid form unusual but still distinctly her. You want to be with him, you need him like breathing, but the guilt and regret is gnawing at your flesh like a newborn gnoll. Maybe he would be better off taking his role as grand duke by himself, the whole city would whisper of the mad adventurer that had to fight for forgiveness to their complicit nature in the plot. As the blade begins to take its final drink from your wrist, Wyll looks up and shouts your name.

An eldritch blast knocks the blade into the sea, and warm hands wrap gently around your wrist, and a handkerchief is pressed to the small nick. He smells sulfuric but sweet like cinnamon apples as he presses a worry-filled kiss to your head. It comforts you but it shouldn’t; you don’t deserve this. “My love, what is wrong? The netherbrain has fallen, Karlach lives, what could trouble you this much?” He whispers into your ear, making sure the others know this interaction is private.

“I can’t live with myself. I may have forgotten a good extent of my past, but I remember everything from that point on the nautiloid onward clear as a whistle. It’s too much to act like I’m this hero,” you whisper back, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Wyll lifts up your left hand, a ring glinting in the morning sun. He kisses the knuckle wearing it, and looks up into your eyes with a bittersweet smile. “I did not choose you to be the love of my life, my sun and stars, because I thought you were evil my love,” he kisses your cheeks and puts his forehead to yours. “That wasn’t the you I see before me, this wonderful creature who sees past my horns, past Astarion’s vampirism, past Gale’s orb godssakes,” he chuckles and you let out a quiet laugh.

“I just don’t want to be that again. Ever again,” you whisper as you glance at your joined hands. Wyll brings a hand to your cheek and kisses your lips with a tender touch.

“It will take time. Just like I have newfound bumps in weird places, I need to get used to those. It’s being human. Now come with me, future Ravengard, we have beers to slam with our friends.”

He helps you up, and pulls you into the tightest hug as if you could disappear. You walk into the brightening dawn to the Elfsong Tavern, making sure tease him about becoming the grand duke the entire way.

#fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 romance #gale dekarios #gale x reader #halsin x reader #halsin #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard #18+ content #please read tags #angst

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damn-stark · 7 months

Text

Chapter 8 The worlds a little blurry

Chapter 8 of Sugar

A/N- I’m not saying to keep the training scene with Satoru in mind, but do it because it will come into play later?

Warning- Swearing, fluff, ANGST!!!, VIOLENCE, Blood and gore, death, spoilers, long chapter.

Pairing- Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader, Choso x Gojo!fem-reader

Episode- Half of 2x05

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*A YEAR LATER. 2007*

“Here we go!” Shoko exclaims before she and Suguru hurl school supplies at your brother. And of course, only the eraser hits his forehead, whilst the pencil Suguru threw stops because of Satoru’s infinity.

Which is ridiculous by the way, he’s much harder to torment with his infinity on all the time nowadays.

“Yeah, it’s working,” Satoru says as he grabs the floating pencil.

“Ugh,” Shoko groans. “What the heck was that?”

“Automatic selection of targets for your Jujutsu technique?” Suguru questions from behind you.

Satoru nods. “Yup. Though, to be precise I’m the target for the technique,” he explains, making you sigh out of boredom and lean back against Suguru’s legs.

Why does your brother want you here again? To watch him show off? It’s really annoying when he doesn’t explain things right off the bat.

“I’ve automated what I used to do manually,” he continues to say. “Now it can discern an object's danger level based on the strength of its cursed energy, its mass, its velocity, and its shape. I’d like to get it to discern poisons, too, but that’s still proving to be difficult. This will allow me to keep my Limitless technique active almost perpetually with minimal resources.”

“Having it perpetually active will fry your brain,” Shoko points out exactly what you worried about when he told you a couple days back.

“But I can also keep running the reverse cursed technique with the energy I generate on my own,” Satoru explains to her exactly what he told you. “So I’m constantly giving it a fresh brain to work with. I’d already been working on shortening my hand seals. That’s nailed now, too. So I can also activate multiple instances of Blue and Red simultaneously. The only remaining hurdles are Domain Expansion and teleportation over long distances. I should be able to get that down if we set up some courses without any obstacles in Jujutsu High. Shoko,” he calls out and leans forward. “Could you lend me some lab rats?”

“Uh…” she questions. “Well, you have y/n here.”

You furrow your eyebrows and throw your hands up slightly to retort. “Hey!”

Shoko snickers and you roll your eyes before you then shoot your brother a smirk. “What about my cursed technique? Will you learn to protect yourself against me?” You tease him. “With the right amount of power I could definitely break through your infinity.”

Satoru turns his head towards you and tilts his head down before he scoffs. “As if,” he counters smugly. “You’d never be able to hurt me.”

You don’t let that tear you down, you actually grow smug too. “I don’t know man, the air definitely can. I am getting stronger.”

So much so that just last week you got assigned to a mission with your brother, and Yaga says you’ll get assigned to more together because he says your techniques work well together. Which must mean something because the only way your brother and you get assigned to missions together is for the rare group missions you get assigned to.

You still are getting assigned with Nanami and Haibara because you are in the same class, and your teamwork is absurdly well. But it does seem like you’re finally growing strength wise.

It makes you wonder what your parents think about it?

“Well we’ll see won’t we?” Satoru counters your comment. “That’s actually why I asked you to be here,” he finally reveals. “I need you to hit me with your cursed technique.”

You pull your shades down and grin at him. “Oh? You should’ve said that from the beginning!” You exclaim and push yourself away from Suguru to summon air to your hand as you raise it to get ready to lash at him.

However, he throws the eraser at you as he interjects. “Not yet, idiot.”

You pout with disappointment and watch the eraser fall at your feet.

“Suguru,” Satoru calls out next. “Have you lost weight? You okay?”

Your smile fades at the sound of his comment, and when you peer back at your boyfriend you frown with pity. He looks exhausted—well you’ve noticed that he’s looked exhausted for a while now. Just like you’ve noticed that he’s lost weight too.

You like to think it’s just overwork, getting assigned to missions alone must be exhausting, but the truth is you’ve noticed that something has been wrong with Suguru a couple of months after Toji Fushiguro killed Riko; after you entered that damn non-sorcerer cult who cheered over the death of an innocent girl. At first it was subtle signs like sleepless nights, things that you told yourself not to worry about, stuff he told you not to worry about. But he then began to grow distant with your friends, with you. He often lacked motivation, he didn’t show affection, and if he did it almost felt forced, like it cost him a lot of energy.

Suguru also smiled a lot less, and his eyes…his dark eyes have begun to look dull. You try and try to make him feel better, you try to help him in any way you can without pressuring him, but he keeps pushing you away. He’s like a…fading light at the end of a tunnel, no matter how much you want it to reach it, the light grows smaller and smaller.

It hurts, it really does, but he’s not accepting help, so you’re respecting his choice and just trying your best to be there for him in the best way you can. You love him after all. You don’t want to give up on him.

“It’s just heat fatigue,” Suguru assures Satoru. “I’ll be fine.”

“Did you eat too much somen?” Satoru asks cluelessly. Which leads you to wonder if he’s finally noticed Suguru’s distance too. You have brought up your concern for Suguru, but Satoru brushed you off saying Suguru was just exhausted. You’ve never tried since. Especially because as of late Satoru is often busy. Being the strongest comes with a lot of responsibility after all.

You just hope Suguru will feel better soon, that he’ll let you help him at the very least.

“Anyway, y/n, hit me.” Satoru calls for your attention, but you let your eyes linger on Suguru.

He seems to notice and meets your gaze, so you offer him a soft smile. Suguru blinks in surprise before he gives you a faint half smile before he looks away again and loses his gaze on Satoru.

It makes you want to embrace him, give him a small peck, or pull him aside, but your brother steals your attention again. “Hit me with something small, something normal.”

You swallow back before you sigh and return your attention to your brother. “Define normal?” You pick on his comment since it makes no sense.

“Just hit me with your air whiplash,” he explains in annoyance. “Something not too strong, just something you use on, uh, low curses.”

You blow out air and effortlessly summon air to form on your palm, causing the dirt and dust on the ground to pick up softly.

“Okay,” you warn your brother. “Here it goes.” You then proceed to fling your wrist. And just as the orb leaves your hand you manage to maneuver it into a curved line that you lash out at him instead.

But of course the air doesn’t even touch him, it breaks apart around him and flutters away.

“See you can’t touch me,” Satoru rebuttals with a cocky smirk.

You scoff with discontent and stand up. “Okay, all powerful sorcerer, let me hit you with all I got,” you challenge him as you begin to summon more air to your palm.

Satoru snickers and lifts his chin. “Hit me with all you got sis.”

You shoot him a grin and make the still air turn to strong gusts of wind that make Shoko shield her head from the dirt you pick up. You then shift a foot back and draw in a deep breath as the orb in your hand grows.

Satoru places a hand on his hip and looks at you with nonchalance which gets you fired up.

“We are in a courtyard you two,” Shoko points out loudly so she can be heard over the howling wind. “Whatever you break you have to replace—then again it’s not like it’ll make a dent in your money.”

“Ready?” You ask Satoru.

Your brother nods, but just before you can hit him you get a message so you check that first and actually lose all concentration as you see that it's an old non-sorcerer friend.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim. “Satoru guess who just texted me?!” You run over to him and show him the name on the phone. “It’s Suki!” You face your friends and grin. “Suki is Satoru’s ex-girlfriend from our junior high days.”

“Oh right!” Your brother exclaims. “She was your best friend, I completely blanked.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “Yeah, my best friend, I told you not to date.”

Shoko slouches as she snickers. “Please tell me you got him back for that.”

You flash her a grin and skip back to her. “Oh totally, I dated this rival he had, he was—”

“An asshole,” Satoru finishes for you, which you agree to.

“But,” you add. “He did have long dark red hair he’d dye all the time,” you say thoughtfully whilst you put your phone away.

“Long hair?” Shoko questions. “Oh so it’s like that?”

You blink in confusion and query. “What?”

Shoko glances back at Suguru and snickers. “Oh nothing. Just an observation.”

You look at Suguru, and he meets your gaze to share the same confusion. Albeit his confusion isn’t so prominent on his face.

“I don’t understand,” you mutter and glance back at Shoko. “Elaborate.”

“Well isn’t it obvious you have a thing for guys with…” before you can finish hearing what she had to say her voice trails off as you get startled by an arm thrown around your throat.

There’s only one person not accounted for in front of you; your fucking brother. So it isn’t hard to guess who it was.

“Get the fuck off me you psycho!” You grimace as you grip his arm to try and pull it off.

Your brother chuckles. “You said you wanted to train more. I have time, we’re training.”

You try to kick back, but he easily evades your kicks.

“Satoru,” Suguru finally breaks his silence.

Said man groans. “Don’t worry, Suguru, I'm just helping her because an enemy will never announce when they’re moving against you now will they—“ he comes to a sudden halt as you bite down on his arm after you realize his infinity is off.

It’s the only way his arm would actually touch you.

“What the hell?!” Satoru exclaims and lets go of you to walk back in disbelief. “Did you bite me?”

You do what he wanted this time and summon fast and strong gusts of air to your hand quicker than before. You then spin around without warning and lash it out at him.

You can’t tell if it hit him at all because you proceed to charge at him.

Just before you can reach him though you jump up high above the buildings that surround you. Satoru doesn’t hesitate to smirk before he steps back and jumps up too to try and meet you halfway in mid-air. However, before he can reach you, you counter him by spinning around in the air as you summon wind to your foot to lash out a sharp and strong curved line of air from your foot.

And it seems that some gusts of wind seem to travel through the infinity because he falters in the air.

Nevertheless, it’s not enough to knock him back to the ground or catch him completely off guard because just as you’re turning your body to face him again in the air, your brother grabs ahold of your ankle and quickly flips you around to throw you back to the ground.

And since he is a lot stronger and faster you fail at landing on your feet and land on your back.

The impact hurts, but you muster a playful smile before he lands over you and immediately grabs you by the collar of your jumpsuit to lift your head off the ground.

“Satoru,” Shoko calls out with worry while he raises his fist over you.

Neither of you try to assure her, you look into each other's eyes with no ill feeling, just playful undertones as you wait for him to land a finishing hit.

He doesn’t however, he hesitates, so you take advantage of this moment and gather air to your hand before you slam your hand on his throat, causing him to be thrown back whilst the air in his lungs is knocked out.

“Fuck,” you chuckle and push yourself up, seeing that your brother only landed a foot away from you since your techqinue isn’t strong, and well, he is strong.

“That was a rush. You like that move though?” You ask as you walk over to him. “I call it a knockout. As long as I can touch your throat I can use my cursed technique to throw you back and manipulate the air in your body to knock it out of your lungs.” You chuckle. “Of course, it only works if that person or thing has cursed energy. Otherwise, pft.” You stop and see your brother catching his breath.

“You hesitated,” you point out smugly before you offer him your hand.

Satoru sighs with defeat, but he doesn’t hesitate to slap his hand on yours to let you help him up.

Once he’s on his feet his frown breaks into a proud grin. “Are you okay?” He asks as he slaps his hands on your shoulders.

You nod. “Nothing RCT won’t fix,” you assure him, and instinctively put your hand back so he can give you a high-five.

“Nice work,” he compliments you. “Of course sloppy but good thinking. Plus some of that air did touch me.”

“Well,” you point out as you begin to walk back to your friends now standing on the stone steps. “Air travels fast. So I'm not surprised some gusts of air did touch you. I mean I know it’s not much, but it is some.”

“Keep working on that,” he adds. “And you’ll actually be able to knock me down.”

You smile and turn around to walk back and face him. “Don’t make yourself an easy target though,” you tell him. “It doesn’t matter if I’m your sister.”

Satoru laughs softly. “Trust me I won’t,” he rebuttals.

You reach the step below Suguru and spin around on your heels to face him. However, you notice that he’s on his phone so you wait to speak to him.

“I’ll just say this,” Shoko interjects. “I'm sure a lot of people would pay a lot of money to watch you two fight.”

You lean towards Suguru to press your cheek against his shoulder as you respond to Shoko. “If I were to win, would you quit smoking?” You tease her.

Shoko narrows her gaze on you for a moment while she thinks.

“If you lose, would you smoke?” She rebuttals.

You laugh. “You sound like an addict. Answer me first.” Because jokes on her, you've already smoked with Suguru. You didn’t like the smell it left on your fingers, but you didn’t feel as disgusted that time.

“Fine,” Shoko says with a sigh. “If you were to win I would quit smoking.”

You smile at her brightly. “Ah, good then I’ll make sure to win,” you assure her. Which probably is no comfort at all to her, but you still do so confidently.

“I’d like to see that,” Satoru taunts.

“You will,” you remark. “I’ll beat you. One day.”

Satoru laughs softly and nods. “All right I like the sound of that.”

You smile softly and then back up to look at Suguru.

He has his phone down now and looks at you this time around. Albeit there's something off about the way he looks at you right now that makes your heart jump with gut-wrenching worry.

“I have to leave for my mission now,” he announces to you and the others.

You sigh sadly. “It’s already time?” You complain.

Suguru hums in agreement softly and focuses solely on you now. “Can we talk before I leave?”

Your smile falters as you detect how much colder his voice is. “Yeah, sure,” you answer hesitantly.

Suguru nods softly before he takes your hand and begins pulling you away gently.

“Be careful, Suguru!” Saturo yells out. “Text me!”

Suguru throws back a wave to his friend and doesn’t bother to look back. He doesn't bother to make conversation with you either, and since you feel worry grow within you, you stay quiet too.

It’s only once you're in the tunnel exit that he finally stops walking and faces you with that same gloomy look. Albeit now he can’t even meet you in the eyes.

“Is everything okay?” You ask softly as you grab ahold of his bicep.

Suguru nods stiffly. “Yeah,” he mutters.

You don’t believe him, but you know you won’t get anything else, so you move on. “How long is your mission? You didn’t tell me. Maybe we can do something when you come back home?” You ask.

Suguru swallows thickly and shakes his head. “Y/N...I don’t think this going to work.”

You scoff softly. “I can go to your room, that’s fine. I can even have some food waiting for you. Hm?”

“No,” he counters softly and slowly lifts his gaze to look at you with a long frown and a sorrowful look. “I mean, we have to break up.”

The smile on your smile immediately falls, and your heart sinks. You know you heard him right, there’s nothing going around you to make you mishear him, but you still don’t want to believe those tragic words that just came out of his mouth. “I,” you gasp and let go of his arm. “I don’t understand.”

Tears fill your eyes, and your mind itself begins to race, leaving no room for coherent thoughts.

“D-did I do something wrong?” You ask as you fight the need to cry. “I know things haven’t been the same but Suguru I can help you, just let me help you, please.”

Suguru let’s out a deep breath and looks at the ground to shake his head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong, y/n

I need you to understand that,” he says and meets your gaze. “You were good, I just…I can’t do this anymore. You deserve better than me.”

Better than him? What does that even mean? He is good, he’s the best, he’s your world.

“No,” you argue and step forward to pull his hand out of his pockets. “I don’t want anyone else, I just want you. Suguru…please talk to me, I’m right here, please.”

Suguru steps back and sighs. “I can’t,” he continues to say. “I can’t drag you along with me anymore. I’m letting you go, y/n. It’s for you own good.”

Tears slip out of your eyes and frustration begins to grow within you over his vague explanations. “You’re being selfish,” you remark. “What do you know about what I need? You keep pushing me away. Everytime…every single time I-I try to get close you push me away. So you can’t tell me what I need.”

Due to your upbringing, it’s hard for you to express yourself in any way, anger, happiness, sadness. Satoru has kind of changed that because he lets you talk to him, but even then when you get frustrated expressing yourself is hard and usually turns to tears. So to express this kind of anger without breaking into a sobbing mess is truly significant. It even surprises you, but anger is all you can feel at this very moment as you face the man you love, as you try to progress the words he’s using to break your heart, as you look into his dark eyes that hide sorrow behind that hard serious expression.

“What I need,” you mutter and step forward with more tears. “Is for you to give me a good reason. We said we’d be honest, please be honest with me.” You clutch your chest and look at him helplessly and hurt. “Please, Suguru.”

Said man holds your gaze for a second before he averts his eyes and nods stiffly. “I did tell you the truth. That was it. I can’t be with you, and you can’t be with me. Not as I am, so please just let it go. For your own sake, y/n.”

You feel physically ill, like you’re going to throw up, or have some kind of attack with the way your heart is racing.

“So that’s it then? That shitty ass excuse?” You cry softly and step back. “Look at me,” you whisper as if you’re out of breath.

Suguru blinks and does as you ask.

“Is that it?” You ask whilst you begin to hear tires approach at the end of the tunnel.

Suguru doesn’t say anything, but you leave him space to explain himself, to give you something better than what you got. You deserve something better, no? All the love you have, the memories you share, the moments you lived need to mean something, no?

You express that all with your watery gaze and with your lips parted ready to fight back. And you know he knows that.

But even still, he leaves you just like that.

“Okay. I…” you try to find something to say but all your anger disappears now just as fast as it came. “I,” that’s all you can muster in your disbelief and growing ache.

“Y/N,” Suguru whispers.

You sniffle and look to see the manager pull up to take Suguru away to his mission, so you step back with your lips parted and your hands trembling.

Suguru steps forward to try and what? Assure you after he broke your heart?

Fuck him.

You turn around and storm away without letting him say anything else, without saying anything else yourself.

You just can’t think anymore, it all hurts, this pain like no other completely overwhelms you to the point you can’t even shed another tear.

You know he’s struggling with something he doesn’t want to say, but you thought he’d be someone who didn’t give up regardless. You thought he’d be someone to give you something more than some shitty excuse, but he wasn’t, he isn’t.

He ended it just like that, everything, a years worth of a relationship is over because of something you don’t even know about. Some selfish reason.

It’s all over…

So what do you do now? You don’t know what to do. You can’t go back to where Satoru is, you’ll break and you don’t want to break and start drama. You can’t go on a mission today because you didn’t get assigned to one. You need to do something…

“Y/N!” You hear Shoko shout.

Shit, shit.

You stop just before you can reach the dorms and draw in a deep breath to try and hide your agony. You can’t cry, so it should be good. Right?

“Back already?” Your friend laughs as she catches up to you. “I’m surprised.”

You exhale and slap on a nonchalant look before you turn and face her with a tiny smile. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m back.”

Shoko stops before you and meets your gaze with a smirk. You smile at her but as you look into your friends eyes your smile begins to tremble and those tears that dried up due to your disbelief come rushing back.

Shoko notices right away and her face falls with concern. “Whoa, is everything okay?” She asks right away and reaches her hand over to grab your arm.

You part your lips and fight your tears as you nod. Shoko scoffs and holds your gaze to try and read what has you on the brink of tears after you saw someone who never fails to make you smile.

She struggles a bit but she then understands what happened without needing you to explain. You wouldn't be crying otherwise.

“Oh,” she breathes out and doesn’t fail to throw her arms around you, causing you to finally break and sob—“he’s an asshole. He is.”

You try to speak, but nothing comes out but a soft whimper as you hug her back tightly.

“Come on,” she whispers and pulls back with her hand sliding down to grab yours. “Let’s go inside. I have all your favorite things in there.”

You’ve had girl friends before, you have cousins, but never one as important as Shoko. Out of everyone, she’s the only one who's touched your heart, the only one you’ve grown to love.

“Here,” Shoko mumbles and sits you down on her bed. “I'll bring the fuzzy socks and the cigarettes? No,” she scoffs to herself. “Alcohol? Fuck…” she trails off and walks to her drawer full of snacks and other things you both may need when you sync up on your periods.

“Ah, never mind, I found just the thing.” She pulls out a pack of your favorite snacks and throws them on the bed along with other things she has stored inside.

“I will take a beer,” you mumble as you put the fuzzy socks on your feet. “And maybe…”

Shoko swipes baggy shirts off her rack and throws them on the bed, making you smile softly over the fact that she already knew. It makes you grateful for her.

“So,” you interject as you put the baggy shirt on. “Have you decided to go on another date with that guy from Kyoto?” You ask her.

Shoko walks over to leave the beers on the bed while she also begins to change. “Yeah,” she mutters. “I decided I’ll go for it, I mean why not? He was a lot of fun.”

You sniffle and lay back on the bed with a pack of snacks and a cold beer in hand. “That’s good…dates are a lot of fun…” you trail off and feel tears fill your eyes all over again.

Now you try to hold yourself back, try to think of something else, but you can’t help the emotions from coming out like word vomit. “Do you think he stopped loving me?”

Shoko hops around to face you whilst she puts shorts on, and proceeds to sigh deeply before she responds with a reassuring tone. “No, I don’t think so. I just think there’s more going on with Suguru. But I don’t think he stopped loving you.” She finishes changing into her comforting clothes and jumps on the bed beside you with her beer and savory snacks.

“Maybe you were right,” you bring up as you drag yourself to sit up and lean your back against the wall. “Dating people you see everyday was a terrible idea. I’m going to have to see him all the time now…it’s going to be so awkward.”

Shoko sighs again and opens your beer can for you since your manicured nails get in the way. “Well,” she says. “I don’t know, maybe I wasn’t right.”

You take the beer and look over at her. “You were,” you correct her.

Shoko grabs her own beer and then meets your gaze. “Well, it depends, doesn't it?” She asks as she opens her own beer.

You sniffle and look at her puzzled. However, you don’t get to ask before she explains herself. “I just mean, Suguru looks like he’s going through something, you can’t blame him for that because some people like that just think it’s for the best.”

You blink in confusion. “People like what?” You probe. “Depressed?” It’s not hard to guess or identify on Suguru, it’s the only explanation for his sudden change.

“Yeah.” Shoko nods and takes a long swig from her beer before she continues on. “And knowing him he thinks he’s dragging you along, that he’s not, I don’t know, enough? I mean you met him when he was confident about his strength, now so many things are changing, and he’s taking that hard and doubting himself.”

With the way she acts so nonchalant and carefree you forget she’s studying to be a doctor, so she always impresses you when she behaves all doctor-like.

“I don’t care if he’s the weakest,” you say shakily so you take a drink of your beer before going on. “He’s enough for me in any way. So I don’t get it…he really hurt me.”

Shoko takes a long drink before she leans back against the wall and wraps her arm around your shoulders to pull you against her. “I know,” she whispers. “I'm sorry.”

A soft sob escapes past your lips, making Shoko hold onto you tighter.

“Look, I’m going to say this completely unbiased,” she interjects as she rests her head on yours. “Fight for him. I know it sounds super cheesy, but do it. You guys make each other happy, and you know fighting for someone doesn’t always have to mean the guy, you can fight too.”

You nod. “I know,” you whisper. “But what if I try and he gives up completely?”

Shoko exhales deeply. “Then you let him go. But I think you should try, and maybe try and reach him too. He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Or me.” You sigh and pull back to take a sip of your beer. “I’m just…scared.”

Shoko nods. “I understand, but won’t trying at least satisfy you? If it doesn’t work at least you can say you tried—my parents,” she begins saying and averts her gaze. “They went through a rough patch when I was young, but they fought for each other and came back stronger. Now they’re all sappy and hardly ever apart.”

You laugh softly. “Are you comparing me to your parents?” You ask.

Shoko rolls her eyes. “I'm giving you an example,” she quips. “Fight, or don’t and you’ll find someone else with long hair.”

You tilt your head in confusion whilst you take a drink. “I don’t get it,” you mumble.

Shoko snickers. “You totally dig guys with long hair,” she points out.

Your ex had long hair, Suguru has long hair now and it was also longish before. And all your celebrity crushes—oh. You get it, maybe you do have a type.

“That’s so stupid,” you say breathlessly. “And who knew you’re such a sap, Shoko?” You giggle.

She shrugs nonchalantly and surprises you by downing the rest of her drink in one last go. When she’s done she throws her can to the ground and lays back on her bed.

“You tell anyone I’ll tear your closet,” she threatens, making you drink the rest of your drink so you can lay beside her.

“Besides,” she adds and slides her hand over to interlace her fingers with yours. “You're both my friends, and you’re my best friend. We live together, so I see more than you do, more than anyone, and I know that it’s worth fighting for. If it wasn’t, trust me I would tell you.”

Rather than smiling you frown as that fear that always accompanies you makes you think of the worst. “And if it doesn’t work?” You ask as if she actually knew that answer. After all it seems she had loving parents, it’s why she’s giving you this advice. But you? Your parents are the complete opposites from her parents, they never fought for each other, you never saw them being any kind of affectionate. So this doubt creeping inside you isn’t out of the blue, it's a real terrorizing fear you have experienced.

“If it doesn’t work?” Shoko responds and lifts her head to look at the same time you tilt your head down to look at her. “Then you let it go, plain and simple. I’m sure it’ll hurt, but you’ll get over it, plus I’ll be here, your brother is oddly good at comforting you. We’ll all be here.”

You let out a shaky breath and show her your thanks and appreciation by resting your head on her shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you tell her softly.

Shoko rests her head on yours and sighs softly. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

You rest your eyes and try to stop crying as you do feel some kind of reassurance, but those tears still come out since the wound didn’t actually heal. No matter what resolve you figured out, that doesn’t actually change what happened. Suguru and you still are broken up—

That’s so weird to think about. So weird to say in your mind. It’s…unbelievable, and painful.

But at least you have Shoko.

——

*A COUPLE DAYS LATER*

So much for the hope of it all. So much for more than anything. So much for it all. You tried so hard to date around your brother, you didn’t fight much but you fought against his protests. And just as he was barely getting around to fully accepting it, Suguru ruins it.

Now, you’ll have to live on awkwardly because what’s the point in trying? He broke up with you, he left you, he hurt you. Why should you try to fix things? Why risk getting your heart torn and stomped on again?

“Right?” You ask yourself while you cover the fireball you make with rocks and dirt you summon off the ground with your cursed technique.

You do miss him, and yes, he was rather distant for the past couple of months, but you still had each other. He still made your day complete even if there were days where you’d only see each other for a few minutes. He still listened and helped you when Satoru was busy. Suguru…was always there, and now even if you live in the same place he’s never with you.

It’s so fucking lonely. It’s so weird. Plus at night it’s even worse, you didn’t sleep together a lot because you’d get in trouble, but you’d sleep with his shirts or his sweaters and you’d be content with his scent that clung onto it. Now it’s just a cruel reminder that he broke your heart.

So it begs the question, should you fight?

Part of you wants to more than anything, but the other part is filled with anger, and fear that he won’t want to fight with you, that he’ll reject you. And yes, you know that if you don’t ask him you’ll never know, but telling him you loved him took so much time because of your stupid fear—or anxiety as Shoko likes to call it (you don’t believe that.) So now telling him to fight for another chance with you will only take even more time to express.

Fuck. Fuck…

You sigh and drop your head, realizing you’re still holding the dirt covered fireball without concentrating it.

At least that’s a plus. But regardless, you’ll keep torturing yourself by overthinking rather than going for it…

As of now though, you let the dirt fall and collect the fire back through your dragon mark before you stand up and exhale deeply.

No more thinking of Suguru. No more thinking of the anger you feel over this breakup. No more thinking of the building up stress you feel over an upcoming mission that you’ll have to travel far for.

Just focus on calming your breaths, on your leg as you slide it forward while you move the other one back. You focus on one arm as you stretch it out to use your cursed technique, and summon some water over to you to cover your arm in its wet body. You use your other hand to tap into your fire and have that begin to twirl around your body, along with the water you move off your arm.

You proceed to take another deep breath and listen for the wind. When you hear it howl by your ear you smile as it seems that it’s calling out to you specifically. You then easily gather some of it and make it twirl around your body along with the fire and water.

Now all that's left is earth, but that’s harder, rougher, and heavier than rest to manipulate, so you save it for later. Instead, you shift to different forms with a peaceful mindset, ending up balancing on the ground with one hand.

Once you're confident with your form you then try to pick some dirt off the ground to have it dance with the rest of the elements around your body, but it’s fucking hard. You can mix your cursed energy well with the dirt and the rocks, so it begins to falter as you lift it off the ground. It makes you lose focus on your calm breaths. And the strain to keep it up makes you open your eyes and causes your body to begin losing balance.

“Hey! Don’t think too much about it!” Someone you don’t recognize yells out, causing you to lose concentration and collapse on the ground.

“Sorry!” They yell out.

That’s so embarrassing. Tsk.

You slowly push yourself to your feet and dust the dirt off you first before you look up and see an impressively tall blond woman with the kindest brown eyes you’ve ever seen.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N Gojo!” She exclaims with a smug smile when she reaches you by the pond.

Albeit you step back and look at her with confusion. “Uh, pleasure I'm sure, but who are you?” You quirk a brow and study her to check if it’s someone you’ve actually seen before. But no, she isn’t.

“Oh,” she breathes out with disappointment. “I’m Yuki Tsukumo.”

Your eyes widen with awe and a smile breaks on your face. You see her part her lips to add on but you cut her off excitedly, like a fan girl seeing their idol. “Oh my gosh, you’re her!”

Tsukumo’s lips pull to a wide smile and she grows smug again. “Oh, I like the sound of that,” she interjects.

You grin. “You’re the sorcerer who’s always out and defies the higher ups, it’s so cool to finally meet you. I’m a big fan.”

Tsukumo rests her hand on her hip and tilts her head down as she flashes you a sweet grin. “That’s so nice to hear. I didn’t know I was so well known amongst one of the Gojo’s. I’m flattered.”

You scoff. “You’re acting as if I’m royalty,” you quip.

“Well,” she sighs. “You kinda are.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Far from it.” You step forward and continue to look at her with awe. “I need to ask…how did you do it?”

Tsukumo straightens out and looks at you with a confused look. “Do what?” She probes.

Your smile falters and a sigh escapes your lips. “Get strong,” you clarify. “I mean how did you do it all by yourself? You don’t come from one of the big three. I mean I know you came to school, but your reputation? You’re overall poweress? You did that all by yourself, so how? I have the privilege to be born a Gojo, to have a strong brother teaching me, but no matter what I do I continue to struggle.”

Tsukumo's smile turns soft, and her gaze falls on the ground for a moment before she lifts her eyes to meet your gaze with a soft look. “Little by little,” she shares, “I didn’t get strong overnight, I learned and learned. I exhausted myself, but I pushed myself to learn. I for sure as hell didn't listen to any of the old geezers who kept trying to make me hold back.”

You smile softly at that comment.

“But,” she exhales slowly and smirks at you. “I didn’t listen to my head, I trusted myself. I didn't get strong for anyone. I get strong for me. That’s the trick.”

You admire her for a moment before you smile at the ground and nod in comprehension. “I understand, thank you,” you mumble.

“You can be strong and still be a woman, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” she adds. “A lot of people, those old geezers included, only look at you one way. Not both. Prove them wrong every step of the way.”

You chuckle softly. “Oh, trust me I know.” You meet her gaze and shoot her a smirk. “Fuck the higher ups.”

Tsukumo grins. “That’s what I’m talking about! I like you!” She throws her fist out, so you gently tap it with your fist and cause her to shoot you wink that gets you all flustered.

“Hey, we should hang out,” she adds. “We’re both special grade and women at that, we’re a rare pair. So we should get to be friends, don’t you think?”

This is like a dream. This is so cool!

But you need to play it cool. Play it cool.

“Yeah I think so,” you hide your excitement. “That would be cool.”

Tsukumo hums softly before she whips her phone out and offers it to you, making you do the same to trade contacts.

“Anyway,” you bring up as you type in your number. “What brings you around here? Are you picking up a mission?”

“No,” she says. “I came back from a trip so I wanted to meet you and the other special grades.”

You hum before you add in, “well Satoru is on a mission, but,” you pause and exhale slowly. “Geto is here. Somewhere.”

This is the longest you’ve gone without thinking about him. It sounds pathetic but its true. And weird.

“I can…find out where he is so you can meet him,” you suggest hesitantly whilst you return your phones to each other.

“Yeah, that would be great, thank you!”

You hum quietly and look at your phone to go and click on his contact.

It’s been a while since you texted him—will he even answer?

You to Suguru: Where are you?

Your heart begins to race as you grow nervous.

“So,” you interject while you wait. “If you don’t mind me asking, Tsukumo, where were you before returning home?”

“Yuki,” she cuts in bluntly. “You don’t have to be formal with me, call me Yuki.”

You smile softly and nod. “Yuki,” you correct yourself. “Where were you before?”

“I was in Singapore.”

Your eyes widen and you can’t help but grin. “Really?” You probe. “I love Singapore.”

Yuki shows off a grin and nods slowly. “It’s beautiful, and the nightlife is great!”

You part your lips to fangirl over her but a message comes in so you keep quiet and feel your heart jump. When you check you inhale deeply.

Suguru: Hall B, why?

You exhale and leave him on read to offer Yuki a feigned and nervous smile. “Geto answered, I can take you to him.”

Without hesitation or wasting more time you walk her to where Suguru is. You’d prefer not to see him at the moment, it just won’t make things any easier, but…you also miss him. So this is just a small excuse.

“Hey,” Yuki interjects. “About your previous question about strength, does your brother train you?”

You sigh and shrug. “He does but he’s busy a lot now so not as much anymore. I have other friends who help me though, and school of course. But that’s about it.”

She hums and stays quiet for a moment. Once you reach Hall B, she stops before you can walk inside, making you stop along with her.

“In here,” you point to the door.

“Look,” she changes the subject. “I don’t stay in one place long, I like to travel, and I know that it’s not ideal for a lot of people. But if it’s something you’re okay with, then you should consider letting me help you.”

You blink in disbelief and can’t think of what to say through that shock that begins to grow.

“It can be once you’re out of school, or if you decide that being here isn’t for you then you can come along and I’ll help you train,” she adds and doesn’t help ease you whatsoever. “Whatever you decide, I want to help you. We girls have to stick together, especially us because we’re a rare pair.” She smirks.

“Yeah, I agree,” you muse. “Just,” you pause and think about your brother and your friends, they’re all here. Whatever happens with Suguru won’t change the fact that you like living with your friends and your brother.

But you also want to get strong for yourself, for your dream of helping other sorcerers, for those friends you cherish so deeply. So that’s where you get stuck, you can go with her, let her train you, and get strong a lot quicker. Or you can stay here with everyone and gain your strength a lot slower. Hm.

“…just give me time to decide,” you tell her. “I’m honored by your offer though. I really appreciate it.”

Yuki grins. “Don’t sweat it, the offer will be open for you. Until then we can still get to know each other.”

You sigh with relief and nod softly. “Yeah I like the sound of that. Thank you again.”

With nothing else to add you continue to walk inside the building. And now your shock gets replaced with that nervousness all over again. You almost want to run away before you can lay your eyes on him, but that’d be immature. After all you do live with him which means you can’t hide from him forever. So now is better than later….

You repeat that to yourself as you approach the corridor. It’s all going to be fine, you assure yourself—no, you’re gonna be sick.

You lead the way past the vending machines and the first person you lay your eyes on is him. Your breath hitches as if this is the first time you’re seeing him. Your heart pounds faster as his dark eyes find your gaze. Your eyes widen slightly with awe as you see that his hair is down. And even through all the hurt he made you feel, relief is all you feel wash over you.

Does he feel it too? He sits up and you notice his Adam’s apple lift up before it slides down.

“Y/N!” Someone else exclaims.

You break from your stupor to notice that Haibara is next to Suguru. You didn't take note of that before.

“Hey Haibara!” You greet as if you hadn’t just seen the guy a couple hours ago.

“Is everything okay?” Suguru’s voice surprises you, causing you to look back at him with that surprise expressed on your face.

He’s acting as if nothing happened while you’re slowly dying inside, how is he so good at that?

Regardless, before you can answer, Yuki finally enters the corridor and steals the attention of both guys, letting you notice that Suguru’s eyebags have only deepened.

“Are you Geto?” Yuki interjects boldly. “What kind of woman is your type?”

What kind of question is that?

You can’t decide if it’s cool or weird upon a first interaction.

“Who are you?” Suguru avoids the question, leading you to wonder if he’ll actually answer it. He is single now so his answer may vary.

“I like girls who eat a lot!” Haibara exclaims, causing you to snap your eyes to him, and giggle.

“Oh?” Yuki probes, whilst Suguru scolds him softly.

“Haibara.”

“It’s okay,” said man brushes Suguru off. “She’s not a bad person. I’m a great judge of character!”

You smile wider at your friends comment.

“You say that while sitting next to me?” Suguru interjects, causing your smile to fall right away, and your concern to grow.

What does he mean by that?

“Yes!” Haibara agrees without hesitation.

Yuki laughs. “He was being sarcastic, you know,” she tells Haibara, but you know she’s wrong, you can see it in the way Suguru’s averting his gaze. So what does he mean? Why can’t he talk to you?

You want to know, you need to know. So that’s what you’ve decided, you’ll talk to him. You have to, if not for your relationship, then just for him. He looks like he’s in pain and you can’t just sit by and wait for him to come to you. You’ll just wait until after you come back from your mission.

You’d do it now, but Yuki did say she wanted to know him, so your talk will have to wait.

“Anway,” you interject and look at Yuki. “I’m off now, it was nice to finally meet you.”

Yuki pouts. “You’re leaving already? I thought we could hang out together a bit longer.”

You briefly glance at Suguru, and he looks at you, so you look away and then respond to her. “I’d love to but I am going on a mission far from here tomorrow, so I need to finish some work before I leave, or else my teacher will have my head.” You giggle. “But hey, when I come back and you’re still around we should go out to lunch or something, hm? I would love to know more about your trips.”

Yuki nods. “Absolutely! And think about my offer, I don’t give them to everyone.”

You flash her a smile and nod. “I will!” You look away from her and look at your friend. “Haibara you want to come help me with my work?”

Your friend pushes himself off his seat right away and nods. “Sure! But I won’t do it for you.”

You pout and watch him meet up with you. “That’s so mean,” you whine and throw your arm around him. “Not even a little?”

“Nope.”

You groan and roll your eyes. “Boo,” you whisper before you look over at Yuki and flash her an excited smile. “Bye Yuki!”

“Bye Y/N!” She gives you the same excited energy.

You lastly glance at Suguru and see that he was already looking at you, so you quickly avert your gaze and pull Haibara away with you.

“Excuse us!” Haibara exclaims as he pulls back to take one last glance at both Suguru and Yuki, making your hand slide off his shoulders.

Silence then follows and once your friend catches up to you down the hall, he immediately finds the chance to question your fading smile.

“Are you okay? You look upset—or actually you’ve looked upset for the past couple days, is everything okay?”

He knows you well, but you don’t want him or anyone else to know about Suguru and you breaking up yet. You do want to work things out so telling everyone, (escpaully Satoru) will create unnecessary tension you don’t need. So you’ll keep quiet for now and hide your anguish.

“I’m fine. Just…tired is all.”

Haibara opens the door for you, letting you walk out under the cloudy sky. “Are you okay?” You redirect while you spin on your heels to look at him.

Your friend nods. “Yep, just getting mentally prepared for tomorrow.”

You hum and sigh dramatically. “Yeah, that’s a real pain in the ass. But hey, after the mission, Nanami did promise that he’ll come with me to the shops, so I’m excited for that!”

“Really? Great, I'll come with!” He interjects.

You scoff softly, and happily hook your arm around his. “I didn’t expect it any other way,” you say with a growing smile.

——

*2 DAYS LATER*

Suguru: Be careful

Even if it’s just through text those words have been ringing inside your head since he sent it.

You hate it for one, he just sends you the message as if nothing, without even talking anything out first, it makes you mad. But two, you appreciate that he thought of you, it makes your heart flutter. Yet, third, you’ve been stuck between answering back or not. Should you be petty and not answer, or be nice and write back something super simple?

Something that can lead to ‘hey let’s talk when I get back.’—no. Not now. You should concentrate on the mission in hand. But…

No! No, you cant.

Actually he shouldn’t be sending you these messages. It’s so hard on your overthinking mind.

“Should we put a curtain?” You ask as you put your phone away.

“I doubt we’ll step outside,” Nanami says. “But let’s do it just in case.”

You both turn to look at Haibara, and he sighs before he steps forward and raises two fingers. “Emerge from darkness, blacker than darkness,” he chants. “Purify that which is impure.”

Within seconds the cloudy sky is covered by a black growing veil that drops over the property you were sent to, adding ominsity to a rather easy mission; exorcizing a second-grade curse.

“If you want, y/n, you can go in alone, we'll wait for you here,” Nanami remarks as you walk past an arch.

You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t work like that Nanami. Special grade—”

“Means you have the power to take over countries,” he cuts you off. “That’s what you are, and it’s what you have the possibility of doing.”

You scoff. “Sure, it’s a possibility, but I can’t do that now, you know that,” you argue the same old fight. “I need to work to get myself strong. I…” you pause and hum in disappointment. “I’m not strong like that yet. I'm working to it.” You fist your hands eagerly and then look back at him with a smirk. “And when I am, don't start missing me, Nanamin.”

Said guy rolls his eyes, making you smile at him.

“Don’t worry y/n,” Haibara cuts in, drifting your eyes over to him. “Take your time, we like having you come with us. We’re a team after all! We work great together and Nanami knows it, he’s just giving you a hard time.”

You chuckle and walk back to fall beside Nanami and pat his shoulder. “Oh, I know. It’s all tough love.”

As you reach the entrance of the red-roof building you let Nanami go and frown. “Sense that?” You ask and come to a stop with them before you can climb up the red stairs.

“It’s not even trying to hide,” Haibara points out.

You crack your knuckles and let out a deep breath, while Nanami pulls his blade out, and Haibara rolls his shoulders back.

“It should be easy,” you try to assure them and yourself. “We go in as practiced.”

Nanami nods stiffly, and you let out one more deep breath before you take a step on a red stair and begin ascending them. When you’re on the porch, both guys hide behind the wall, while you open the door and slowly creep inside the softly lit parlor room.

Right away you notice the curse you’re after; it’s tall, built like a man with tightly toned muscles, but green and twisted. It notices you right away and turns around, showing off its one eye on its face, and the snake like tongue that it sticks out at you.

It’s gives you the creeps, but you ignore it and lift your chin to show it a smirk and show it that you’re not afraid.

You don’t think it actually senses that, nor do you think it has any emotions besides the instinct to cause terror, but almost as if you did hurt its ego, the curse wails out before it charges at you.

You don’t move though, you confidently stay where you are, and just before it can even reach you, Nanami and Haibara come out of hiding and run at it too. And since the curse is tall, you manipulate the air from outside to come to your hands, and then push it towards Nanami. And without the need to say a word, just like you have done dozens of times before, you use the air to give him a boast.

Nanami uses the boast to his advantage and flips in the air. The curse looks up and twists around to follow Nanami, it tries to reach out for him with its long arms, but Nanami swings his blade while in the air and manages to cut one of its arms off with a single swing. When he’s falling back down, he manages to kick the curse towards Haibara before he lands swiftly on the floor.

And since the curse is stronger it’s harder to take down, you need to use a lot more strength and power. So when Haibara punches its eye out with his cursed energy, the curse still stands up and comes stumbling towards you.

Now depending on the curse, you can land the finishing blow, but you see and sense this one is more durable. Thus you tap into your dragon mark wrapped around your arm and make flames bask your entire arm, causing your growing smirk to be brightened by your flame's hue.

The curse wails loudly at you, but you don’t flinch, instead you manipulate the air that lays outside on the courtyard behind the curse, and have it burst through the doors to shove the curse towards you. You then lunge forward as you pull back your fist covered in flames, and smash it through the curses gut so hard your fist burns through the other side.

Yet it still doesn’t get exorcized. The curse falls on its knees and bleeds out from its wound.

“You really are annoying,” you grumble before you raise your foot, and use the air to kick out a mighty blast that sends the curse flying out to the courtyard.

“Let’s end this,” you tell your friends coldy.

Haibara and Nanami both nod before the three of you walk out to the back porch. The curse finds strength to stand up so that motivates the three of you to continue on stronger.

So as Nanami runs to the curse head-on, Haibara jumps off the porch's railing and runs to its side. You step off the porch and watch as Nanami slides down and slices the curses legs off with his cursed technique, while Haibara hops on the curses arm to rip it out of its body, giving you your cue.

And so forth before the curse can continue to irritate you, you pull gusts of air to your palms and form it into a long and thin curved line. You then proceed to lash it out, and manage to cut the curses head clean off.

“Finally,” you pant and drop your shoulders as you let out an exhausted sigh. “Good job guys!”

“Right back at you, y/n,” Haibara redirects, making you smile at him softly.

“Uh, I hate to burst your bubbles but the veil hasn’t come down,” Nanami points out.

You snap your eyes up and see that the black veil still in fact remains intact. Is there another curse here?

Nevertheless, before you can ask your question out loud you hear thumping. When you look down you see the curse begin to convulse violently.

“Uh,” you breathe out in horror and step back.

The curse then suddenly stops, making you squint your eyes on the curse to wait with a racing heart. You then lift your head and at that moment see the curse regrow its limbs, including its head. Its already toned body grows larger, and with more muscles as if it had just pumped itself with fucking steroids. Two arms then grow to four, and from one neck grows out two more heads longer than the original.

This isn’t a second-grade curse, but it’s also something you can't run from, you’ll have to fight your own fear and give it your all.

“We got this,” Haibara uses words of encouragement.

You clench your fists and nod stiffly, whilst you also begin to feel regret for not texting Suguru back. After all, this has turned for the worst, what if you don’t make it out? And the last thing you told him was…a bunch of sputter.

You want to talk to him again, you do. You want to tell him you miss him, that he’s worth walking through fire for, that he’s enough for you. But most of all you want to tell him that you love him more than anything in this cursed world.

So to whatever divine being that is up there don’t let this be the end. Please.

“I’ll get rid of the arms,” Nanami says. “Haibara try and get his legs so y/n can try and exorize it.”

You nervously swallow back but nod in understanding, but you also look over at Nanami and can’t help your worry. He sees that and drops the hardened expression to offer you a soft smile to try and assure you.

You draw in a deep shaky breath and mirror his smile before you look ahead. Now before any more time can be wasted you summon air and blast out, Nanami sprints over and jumps, letting you use that same air to boast him.

You then follow by growing a raging fireball and throw it at the curse, causing it to shift back. Haibara uses this slight distraction and charges it, whilst Nanami flips down and tries to swing his blade.

However, this time the curse is more prepared, it twirls around and swerves Haibara's attack before it proceeds to swat Nanami away as if he were nothing but a fly.

“Nanami!” You cry out while his body slams into the wall behind him and goes unconscious.

The curse turns back around and wails out at Haibara and you, but you don’t cower, you dig your heels in the ground and glower at it.

“Cursed technique,” you seeth. “Fire dragon.”

The dragon mark on your arm begins to glow brightly, whilst the veins on your other arm begins to glow with the flames that travel down to your palms. Your hands then glow from the fires light before you throw your arms out and blast large flames from your palms. The fire quickly takes form into a large fire-made dragon that flies towards the curse.

This time your fire-made dragon is much larger than last years. Now it contains a lot more power.

Alas, just as you think you see the fire-made dragon grab the curse with its jaw, the fire-made dragon crashes through the wall, and what you see before you now are two curses in front of a building that begins to feed the fire that the fire-made dragon left behind.

Two bodies now join the fight. They’re the same build, they have the same green skin, but now both bodies just have two arms. One body even has two heads, while the other only contains one.

It split itself into two.

“Haibara!” You bellow and don’t take your eyes off the curse with the one head watching you, waiting to attack. “Get Nanami!”

You only catch a glimpse of Haibara running and the second curse running after him, so you try to blast fire out at it to try and distract it, but the curse that had been watching you like you were it’s meal, catches you off guard and slaps you down to your knees.

You quickly try to counter but it lunges at you to grab you by the throat and pick you off the ground with its strength.

You can’t let that stop you though, so you try to blast air at it by kicking your foot, but the curse hurls you back towards the parlor room.

When you hit the floor you yell out because of the pain, but you also try to quickly get up so you can counter. However, the curse is fast and catches up to you right away. It doesn’t let you catch your breath before it kicks you to your back and begins throwing punches over and over again on your face.

You try to move your arms to hurl air or fire, but each punch is like getting stabbed by sharp needles so the pain is agonizing and paralyzing.

It’s not the same as before, either because it was holding back or because it got stronger when its head got cut off, like the monster from Greek Mythology, The Hydra. Which would make sense with this curse being born from the Ubusunagami faith. One head falls and multiple are born in its place.

But why wasn’t this identified before? Why weren’t they more careful? This is a grade 1 case, you might be special grade but that’s only because no one knows how dangerous your technique can be, they based you off possibilities, if it wasn’t because of that you’d be a grade 2 just like the others. And they know that too, so why? Why weren’t they more careful?

Now you can’t even lift a finger, all your mind is filled with is pain. You try to think of some strategy to get out, to outsmart the curse, but you can’t even move. Every hit brings you closer to an eerie darkness.

Until there’s a voice.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

It’s your brother's voice from a memory of the day you got the scar on your torso. You were only a little girl who was scared of many things, he had been gone all day because your parents wanted him away from you, so when he came back the trauma was already engraved and the scar was already stitched.

He came after the fact, but he was such a relief to see. He was a light in the sea of darkness.

“It hurts,” you complain with fresh tears in your eyes.

“I know,” he whispers. “I'm sorry.” He sighs and turns around to give you his back and crouch.

“Come,” he says. “I'll help you get to your room.”

Satoru was told many times not to spoil you the way he does, ‘it’ll only make her weaker.’ they’d say, but he never listened and they never corrected him because of who he was.

“We can watch a movie and give you something for the pain.” He adds.

You wipe your tears away and stand up to step towards him, but you stop and bring up your concern. “But mother said no.”

Satoru peers back and confidently counters. “I don’t care. Now come on, get on my back.”

You smile softly and don’t think twice about accepting his offer now. You get on his back and wrap your arms around his neck before you rest your head on his shoulder, and let him give you a piggyback ride to your room.

Now you don’t know why that certain memory came to mind, there are so many other ones where he was that light in the sea of darkness, so why this one? It's only a reminder of the pain your family made you endure.

So why now as this curse is beating you to a bloody pulp?

Why? You ask yourself as the curse hits you again and strikes your body with more pain.

Why?

But then, in that brief moment where it’s fist is off your face you know why, because you see a vision of brother appearing through the darkness. Not Suguru, not Shoko, or your other friends, but your brother. He’s the sudden burst of energy you need to regain your consciousness and find that strength to pull your leg back and direct a cluster of your cursed energy and fire to your foot.

The curse hits you again, but you don’t falter, you counter by kicking your foot out and blasting fire at it from your foot.

The curse gets flung back, but it doesn’t go far, instead it falls under the doorframe. You still get up though and fist your hands whilst you shift your feet into a fighting stance. The curse gets back up and immediately wails out at you.

“Fuck you,” you grimace and run at it with your arm getting basked in flames. Before you reach it you jump up to swing your fist down at its face, but the curse isn’t weakened by injuries like your bruised and blood-covered face, it’s stronger and manages to throw its arm out and capture you by your throat.

You try to kick, but the lack of air running to your lungs immobilizes you. All you can think about now is wanting to breathe. All that there is is fading consciousness until you hear a scream coming from the courtyard.

Nanami was unconscious, he could have woken up but it’s unlikely, so the person screaming was Haibara. He’s in trouble. He needs help!

As if hit with another burst of energy, you manage to slap your hands on the side of the curses head and instantly blast fire out of your palms,

The curse wails as the flames burst through its flesh and begin burning it from the inside out. It lets you go to try and escape, but you wrap your legs around it and dig your fingers in its head while you blast more fire in its head.

You cry out of anger and the curse stumbles back, it claws at you, but you use more of your cursed technique until the curse finally explodes and dies, causing you to fall on your ass and finally gasp for more air while you push yourself to your feet.

Haibara doesn’t scream again, but you still run out to the courtyard. And immediately as you do you see the curse holding Haibara several feet over the ground by his head. You gasp in horror as you see Haibara’s entrails hanging out of a long and deep gash.

“Haibara!” You cry out louder than you thought possible.

The curse snaps his head towards you, and you quickly lift your hands off your sides and begin gathering air into a orb in between your palms.

“Cursed technique,” your grimace with tears already forming in your eyes. “Air manipulation, lashing wind!”

You proceed to throw the orb made of air out. And while it’s flying towards the curse you form it into a curved line that slashes both of the curses heads off the moment it cuts through, causing it to let go of Haibara.

Before your friend can hit the ground you sprint over and manage to catch him in your arms. However, he’s heavy so when you catch him you collapse to the ground with him.

“It’s okay,” you mutter shakily. “It’s okay,” you assure him even as his eyes are rolled back. “You’ll be okay, Haibara.”

You don’t see his chest move anymore, and his blood is spilling out of his gash and staining your body, but you still refuse the truth and carefully put him down. You then rip the white skirt off your waist and carefully wrap it around his bleeding wound.

“It’s okay,” you tell him again. “You’ll feel a little bit of pressure, but Shoko and that first aid class told us to do this, remember?”

Haibara remains unresponsive, but you continue to tighten the white skirt over his wound so it could stop bleeding.

“You’ll be okay,” you whisper and look at his face. “Haibara? I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Just please hold on a while longer okay? I…I can call Shoko, she’ll know what to do.” You pull your phone out and desperately find your friends contact. As it rings you look back and see the curse is beginning to shake like last time.

“Shit, shit,” you grumble.

The phone rings a couple more times before you get sent to voicemail. “Damn it!” you exclaim.

You peer back and see that the curse grows four heads now and grows taller, bigger.

“I—I’ll call Suguru, he’ll know where she is,” you tell Haibara as he continues to lay still.

This time when you call Suguru, the phone rings only a few times before he thankfully answers. “Hello?”

You sigh shakily with relief, “Suguru.”

“Y/N, what's wrong?” He asks the moment he hears your shaky voice.

You look at your friend and hold your phone to your ear with your shoulder as you press your hands on Haibara's wound to help the bleeding stop.

“Suguru, where’s Shoko? She doesn’t answer her phone, I need her help, please.” You say quickly.

“Shoko isn’t home,” Suguru says. “What's wrong y/n, are you okay?”

You groan and look back to see Nanami up now and trying to distract the curse.

“It’s Haibara,” you say shakily. “I-I don’t know what to do, I’m trying to stop the bleeding, but the gash won’t stop bleeding. And he—Suguru…he’s not breathing. I need Shoko, please, I need her.”

“Y/N,” Suguru mutters through the phone. “Haibara’s gone. I need you and Nanami to get out of there—”

It’s not the solution you want so you hang up the phone and shove it back in your pocket to focus back on your friend and begin CPR.

“Come on, come on, COME ON!” You yell out in desperation.

Your attempts are futile though, he doesn’t wake up, he doesn’t gasp for air, he continues to lay still, adding to your anguish.

“Nanami!” You call out. “I need help! Please come help me…someone please help me…” you trail off and pick up Haibara again to cradle him in your arms. Your phone begins to ring but you ignore it and put all your attention on Haibara.

“You have to fight, okay? We still have so much to live for, and you—you have to become a teacher just like you wanted,” you tell him as you hear wailing in the back. “We have to graduate next year and do so much more, please Haibara. Please.”

“Y/N?”

You look up and see Nanami panting in front of you.

“Nanami—”

He cuts you off and grabs your arm to try and pull you off the ground. “We have to go!” He bellows out at you while his eyes are on Haibara’s body.

“No,” you argue and shove his arm back. “I’m not leaving him behind!”

Nanami glances past you before he crouches down and grabs your arm. “Y/N, Haibara is…” he pauses and lets out a shaky breath before he finishes breaking the truth to you. “He's gone. We have to go or we’ll die next.”

You look down at Haibara and finally notice how lifeless he looks, you finally notice how fatally deep his wound is. And as if slammed by a rough wave, you finally grasp the truth and feel a deep agonizing pain clench around your chest to the point you can’t breathe. You can’t think, or cry, all that there is, is the cruel truth and pain.

The phone's incessant ringing doesn’t tune in, Nanami’s desperate pleas to leave don’t register. Nothing snaps you from that stupor but the sudden wail of the damned curse.

Anger then follows after that sound, a raging anger that only tightens that grip around your chest. No matter how much you want to let it go and leave, you can’t, it doesn’t feel right or like it will let you breathe, so you put Haibara down and twist around as you remain on your knees.

“Y/N,” Nanami warns as the curse begins to storm over.

You ignore him though and narrow your glare in the curse. The ground then begins to shake beneath you as you focus on doing something new and without thinking. Cracks grow on the ground, and you lean down to press your palms on the surface.

The curse jumps off it’s feet and tries to tackle you, but in that moment you let out all the emotions that had been plaguing you, and finally breathe.

All your life you’ve been taught to control your emotions to work with your cursed energy, but you’ve never felt more in control over your emotions than at this very moment after Haibara’s death triggered something off inside you. Something so monumental that lets you blast out a tidal wave of fire from the cracks on the ground to slam the curse back.

Up until this moment, you’ve never felt that rush of excitement from a fight, Satoru always talks about it, but it’s something you could never relate to. The only excitement you felt was last year, but that was met with regret, and you never felt it again because missions and fights were always such a burden or terrifying, but right now? As you use Yuki’s advice about not giving it too much thought, all you feel is excitement. And it grows as you use your cursed technique to lift pieces of the earth around you to blast it out at the curse and everything that stood around you, like a second wave. Leaving nothing left standing, but dust. And proving Nanami right.

Now you would have taken this time to leave, but Nanami doesn’t even attempt to move after what he saw. You can’t move after you realize what you did.

That rush of power was new, that technique was new. All born from a change inside you that Haibara’s death brought.

Yet you know that it’s a power you haven’t fully tapped into, it was only a taste. But that’s enough to cause your eyes to flicker between the familiar color of your eyes, to a deep red color that Nanami notices when you turn back around to face him and Haibara’s body.

“It’s over,” Nanami says through heavy breaths.

You hum softly in agreement, and then gently wipe your fingers down Haibara’s face to close his eyes.

“It can be once you’re out of school, or if you decide that being here isn’t for you, then you can come along and I’ll help you train. Whatever you decide, I want to help you…”

You were unsure before about accepting Yuki’s offer and leaving, but after this happened. After you tapped into some depths of your power you didn’t know you had, your mind finally comes to a conclusion.

A/N- Will Suguru and you work things out? Are you really going to accept Yuki’s offer? Ahh! We have to wait for the next chapter to know.

Tagged- @deniseabad1928

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one-piece-aus · 6 months

Note

just read your whumtober 2022 day 28 (the katakuri x reader one where reader get kidnapped and sold off) and i was just wondering if u have a part 2 for it ? if not, could u please make one😭😭😭 it’s fine if u don’t wanna xx

have a good day/night!!

Ahoy! Once again, thank you for coming to the askbox to request for part 2. Hope you don't mind me using it for Whumptober, heh. I might've rushed finishing it since I got stuck and I'm falling behind on the days so if you want another part, lmk

You can read part 1 here

Whumptober Day 18

Katakuri x Reader

"Who knew the Charlottles had pretty women on their crew," One of your buyers laughed.

"Maybe you were just paying attention to their men," you smirked, looking at the person despite the blindfold covering your eyes.

"Why you-"

"Enough Tamaki." Sounds like their boss took control of the room, hard to ignore since he had a booming voice. "You need to get back to cleaning the deck."

"Awww, but I thought we bought her for a little fun."

"We are to deliver her to Doflamingo, if his plan succeeds, the government will reward him handsomely, in turn, we'll be rewarded by him for contributing."

"Doflamingo?" You knew of the Heavenly Demon Warlord, his unmerciful wrath toward anyone outside Dressrosa. He'd be a threat if he didn't keep to himself in his lavish country. "That birdbrain, he's all squawk and no dive," you said in a bored tone.

"Why is she still talking?"

"She kept eating the tape boss."

You heard the boss sigh before footsteps were followed out of the room. Silence is the only thing that stays with you in the room, allowing your mind to settle in the horror of what their boss said.

They were taking you to Doflamingo for a plan. A plan where if he succeeds the government is going to reward him, but he's already a Warlord with his own island, what would he do to get more out of... Is he... Is he planning to take out the entire Big Mom Pirates?

You wiggle your way around, trying lift the blindfold from your eyes when something impacted the ship and sent you crashing against the bars. The bars felt warm and gooey, strange, and now your head felt light before it hits against the hard floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"[Y/n]!" Katakuri called for you after entering the cell hall.

He rushed past the cells, briefly scanning each one for you, and he almost skipped over the one you were in. Haulting in his tracks, he looked into the cell and saw you laying sideways on the ground, your back to him. Relief washed over him and he grabbed onto the bars to move it out of his way when he noticed the bars were a little sticky.

He glanced at the bars, seeing blood on one. His eyes trailed over to you, a small patch of damp hair on the back of head. Fear threw Katakuri's relief out the window, he yanked the cell wall out of its place and tossed it to the side. Kneeling down, he slid you into his arms bridal style and rushed back to the crew he came with.

"Please, stay with me, [Y/n]."

Tag: (The ones who asked for part 2 in comments of the last part) @aceduchessdragoness @ijadedoll @devikaary

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Text

Jungkook

𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓮. [Teaser]

Jungkook loves his job, his life, his coworkers. He loves the smell of rain, loves the coolness of his bedsheets when he comes home and falls into his bed after a long day, loves the sometimes angry drunk people he's got to deal with, and loves the quiet children he takes care of when they've got into trouble. But you? That's gonna be a whole different level of love.

Tags/Warnings: Hospital/Medical AU, Doctor!Jungkook, slightly aged up!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Dog Hybrid!Reader, another slightly heavy one but the comfort is strong with this hurt, angst, fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, blood, medical stuff, mentions of domestic (physical and mental) abuse, corruption, more TBA

Length: story is currently split into 5 parts, but could end up longer if you guys want.

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook has given an oath to protect life, and he's aware of that- but he hopes whoever's up there above makes an exception for him when he has to commit a murder in the next few minutes.

"You better have a real good reason to ping me out of my bed at 3 in the fucking morning.!" Jungkook growls under his breath, walking into the staff room where Namjoon seems to have already been waiting. "The ER is empty- so is my bed, when I should be in it! Why am I here?" He whines, changing out of his clothes and into his scrubs- his shift is gonna start at 5 anyways, so it won't really be smart to go back home after whatever is going on that needs his attention so badly is done.

"Trust me, I hate ringing you out of your sleep." Namjoon sighs, as he slides a clipboard towards the young doctor, who slips on his shoes before he takes it to read over it. "Take a good look at it, and tell me what's fishy about it." He asks, and Jungkook adjusts his glasses, reading through all the medical jargon written down in handwriting he used to be unable to read.

"Are you trying to test me here?" Jungkook asks annoyed, though he keeps his attention mostly on the clipboard, moving page after page to find what his friend and coworker seems to be hinting at.

"No, I'm serious." Namjoon questions, crossing his arms.

The seriousness in his voice makes Jungkook focus a bit more, looking through everything when he flips a page back and forth. "Wait, that doesn't make sense.." He mumbles to himself, and Namjoon seems relieved that his best friend has seemingly found the issue as well. "How the hell does one get stabbed three times 'on accident'?" Jungkook questions, shaking his head. "On the thigh, too?" He wonders, looking at Namjoon in front of him.

"Owner said the patient had 'moved around' while he tried to remove the butter knife, forcing it back in twice." Namjoon offers, and Jungkook scoffs.

"Come on, stabbing someone with something as dull as a butter knife is already pretty impossible to achieve." The young doctor questions. "But really? And anyone believed him?" He wonders, looking through the vitals once more.

"Read the name again. The owner's, not the patient's." He asks, and Jungkook's eyes widen.

"Jo Dongsun? So that's why they're just gonna shrug it off?" He asks. "Cause he's an actor?"

"Probably." Namjoon sighs, walking back to take a sip from his cold coffee on the table. "But that's not.. entirely why I pinged you." He says, peaking Jungkook's interest as he's finally awake and alert enough, fully back in work-mode. "The patient- poor thing is refusing any up-close treatment, has to be put on local anesthetics, and you know that's not ideal." The young doctor says, walking out the door with his friend at his side, walking back into the ER. "And you've got a hand for things like that. Maybe you can try and make her feel more comfortable so we won't have to medicate her this much?" He asks, and Jungkook nods.

Hybrids are pretty sensitive to most human medications- their bodies still being studied, many side effects still being explored and explained. But until they're understood to the degree that the world understands the human body, they have to work with that they have- and adjust everything else. It's why people like Jungkook are so vital to today's medical system- he's talented in creating solutions for problems no one else would think of, keeps his studies up to date, and is most of all compassionate and kind even to the wildest of patients.

He's also got a certified degree proving his top knowledge when it comes to hybrid care specifically. It's why Namjoon had even proposed the idea to everyone to move you into Jungkook's care instead, though some aren't really on board with it, considering his rather.. wild attitude so to speak. He won't back into whatever the man will try and tell him happened- he will try and get to the bottom of this, no matter how much impact that guy has.

If he has to ruin a career to save a life, he will.

"I'll do my best. If it's a domestic abuse case she's probably pretty terrified." Jungkook mumbles more or less to himself, before he seems to arrive at the corner you're hidden in, curtains giving you some privacy. He doesn't know what to expect, really- even though he's read all of your data, everything he needs to know about your physical and mental state- he still won't know what he's dealing with until he goes behind that curtain.

And nothing in the world could've prepared him for what's behind that said curtain, as he pulls it back and catches his first glimpse of you.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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charlottesbookclub · 2 months

Text

like real people do (alistair x reader) 💜💜

Summary: honestly there's no real plot, just pure fluff. Alistair tries to adjust to having a human mate, and he's trying really hard 🥹

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader, mention of skipping a meal (not intentionally), mentions of eating, Alistair being awkward and a bit rude lol, basically just pure tooth-rotting fluff, but as always, let me know if I've missed anything!

Words: 1,634

Author’s Note: me, writing a twilight fanfic in the year of our lord 2024? it's more likely than you think. uhhh yeah I have no real explanation for this except that I have stumbled back into my Alistair obsession and I just wanted to write a cute little something for him. I don't think this is my best work, but at least it made me smile, so that's something. honestly I have no idea if there's anyone else out here reading fanfic for an incredibly minor twilight character, but if there is, I hope you enjoy whatever this is! I was thinking of making this a little series of Alistair trying his damndest to figure out human stuff, so do let me know if you have any interest in that. but okay I'll stop rambling now - enjoy! 💖

A message pinged through on your computer, and you looked away from your work for a moment, pulling up the chatbox. It was Lucy from the front desk:

hey – someone’s here to see you

who?

hard to describe – and i’m having a hard time getting his name

You chuckled softly to yourself, having a sneaking suspicion you knew exactly who it was. Odd that he would willingly put himself in a situation that forced him to speak with other people though. Your laughter turned into a small frown as you considered the fact that something might be wrong. You and Alistair hadn’t been together long, but you knew about his aversion to others well enough to wonder what could bring him into proximity of the possibility of needing to engage in small talk.

be right there

You pushed back from your desk and hurried down to the lobby. Lucy was obviously waiting for you to arrive, and she met you with a mildly panicked look, gesturing with her head toward the tall man standing awkwardly in the corner of the lobby. Thanks to his heightened senses, he had noticed your arrival long before Lucy, and was already striding across the floor toward you at a pace that was just barely slow enough to be considered human. You made a mental note to ask Carlisle to gently review normal human behaviors with him. You just managed to give Lucy a quick thumbs-up to indicate that you knew the tousled man before he bustled the two of you back toward your office.

“Alistair, what the hell?” you asked as he ushered you inside and closed the door behind him.

“What a truly awful system,” he muttered to himself, clearly continuing a rant he was already halfway through rather than answering your question. “I mean really, how many idiots should I have to go through to see my partner?” You just crossed your arms and leaned back against the edge of your desk, a bemused smile starting to fight its way onto your face. You knew it was no use interrupting him until he had gotten everything out. “’Would you like something do drink?’” He parroted Lucy’s question mockingly. “No I bloody well would not – unless you’ve got a few bags of blood stored away back there,” he retorted to this fictional Lucy sarcastically. “Zounds, how hard is it to just point me in the right direction and leave me in peace?” His words faded into muttering and soft curses in a version of English that hadn’t been spoken for hundreds of years.

“Alistair,” you said quietly, breaking him out of his monologue. His talking to himself had seemed strange at first, but the more you learned about his life before meeting you, the more it made sense. He had been his only company for so long and was only now slowly adjusting to speaking with other people again. You, however, found it incredibly endearing and hoped he didn’t break himself of the habit completely.

His focus snapped to you instantly when he heard your voice, and he started murmuring apologies that you quickly brushed off.

“Alistair, it’s fine,” you assured him, sending him a warm smile and softly placing your hand on his forearm. Touch was another thing that was coming back to him only slowly. You had learned to proceed cautiously, gently, making sure he knew that you were about to touch him before making contact. The words stilled on his lips as his eyes focused in on the place where your warm palm met his cold skin.

“Alistair,” you said quietly after a moment of letting him adjust to the contact. His eyes traveled back up to your face at the sound of his name on your lips. “Is something wrong?”

“I—no,” the words tumbled out awkwardly, and you could almost see him trying to say three different sentences at the same time. If he still had blood under his skin, you were certain he would be blushing. Knowing that eye contact made conversation even more difficult for him, you flicked your eyes down toward your hand still on his arm, gently pulling it from where it hung limply at his side. You cradled his large hand in both of yours and began tracing mindless patterns on his skin, hoping this would give him enough of a reprieve to gather his thoughts. He took a deep breath and tried again.

“Nothing is seriously wrong, but I— well I… worried about you.” This instantly caught your attention, and you looked up again almost without thinking, only to find his ruby eyes gazing back down at you with a softness you were just beginning to recognize.

“Alistair, I promise, I’m just fine,” you assure him.

“But… well… I noticed you didn’t eat breakfast this morning.” You tilted your head, wondering why that was such a cause for concern that he would willingly subject himself to the horror of checking in at your work.

“I was just running a little late and didn’t have time to make myself anything,” you explained, hoping that would ease his mind, “there’s always snacks in the break room, so I figured I’d have something when I got here.”

“I understand, but humans in your age group are supposed to eat three balanced meals per day, with the addition of one to three snacks. Lack of nutrients can result in many deficiencies, which in turn can lead to side effects like headache, dizziness, and trouble concentrating.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that was growing on your face as you listened to him recite this knowledge as though he had memorized it straight from a Wikipedia article. However, you seriously doubted Alistair’s ability to navigate the internet, since Carlisle had only recently convinced him to try using a flip phone.

“Where did you hear about this?” you asked, trying to remain serious and stifling the giggles that were rising in your throat.

“I’ve been reading Carlisle’s medical texts,” he responded with a furrowed brow, “I want to make sure I understand all the risks and ensure that I am prepared for every eventuality.”

If you hadn’t been completely in love with him yet, this would have undoubtably sealed the deal. He may be awkward and eccentric and even difficult at times, but he was trying so so hard to care for you in the best way he knew how. Although the whole situation was still incredibly amusing, you simply couldn’t bring yourself to laugh at him, even if it was all in affection. Instead, you raised yourself slowly to your tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” you said as you lowered yourself back onto your heels. Your chaste kiss seemed to have frozen him for a moment, as he stood there completely still, his soft squeeze of your hand the only indicator that he was still present in the room. You let him recalibrate, and as he came back himself, he made a soft exclamation as though he had just remembered something. Reluctantly releasing your hand, he swung a small backpack off his shoulder.

“I brought you some breakfast,” he explained as he pulled a jumble of containers out of the bag and placed them on your desk, “I tried to make sure I balanced all the proper nutrients to ensure you wouldn’t suffer any adverse effects from not having eaten this morning.”

You busied yourself with looking at all the containers of food to hide the tears that were welling in your eyes. You had never had someone care for you so completely like this before. Unfortunately, your plan didn’t work, since the awkwardly yet earnestly prepared food only brought more tears to your eyes. You had never expected that strangely cut fruit, mangled pancakes, and soggy cereal sitting in its own milk would make you cry with joy, but the amount of thought and care that had clearly gone into each piece of the meal was about to reduce you to ugly sobs.

You could feel Alistair watching you intently as you opened each of the containers, seemingly trying to gauge your response. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he finally broke the silence.

“If you don’t like it, I—I’m happy to go out and buy you something. I haven’t had human food in so long and even—even then I didn’t actually prepare it so I tried reading some of Carlisle’s recipe books but I think I still didn’t get it right—”

“Alistair,” you didn’t normally like to cut him off, but you refused to let his anxious rambling sew any seeds of doubt in his mind. “It’s absolutely perfect – I can’t wait to taste it all!”

Alistair beamed at you then, a rare sight, but a welcome one.

“I just have one question though,” you said, and he looked at you quizzically, waiting for your inquiry. “Can I give you a hug?”

Confusion turned to elation on his face, and he spread his arms in assent and anticipation. You threw yourself on him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you wiped away a few escaped tears. His arms closed around your back hesitantly, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them, but his uncertainty seemed to fade as you melted into his grasp, and he wrapped you even more tightly in his embrace.

Both of you were smiling when you finally pulled away. You settled into your desk chair and motioned to Alistair to pull up another. He sat just close enough that your knees could touch as you surveyed the feast before you.

“What do you think I should start with?” you asked him.

“Maybe the pancakes? I’m rather proud of those.”

#charlotte writes #also how do i tag for this man bc we don't know his last name??? 😭😭#alistair #twilight #alistair twilight #alistair twilight imagine #alistair twilight x reader #alistair breaking dawn #twilight alistair imagine #alistair imagine #alistair x reader #twilight alistair #alistair nomad #nomad alistair #twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #twilight alistair x reader

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dxngosstuff · 1 year

Text

Does the Moonlight Shine On Paris? (viii) | Finale

Idol!Yoon Jeonghan x Idol!f!Reader

1k words ; cw : none I m.list tags: friends to lovers; fluff; minor angst; idol au; elements of slowburn; second male lead scoups;

Yoon Jeonghan realizes a few things about you after sharing a drink with you in Paris.

It was around 2:00 AM when you finished practicing the choreography for your upcoming comeback. Your schedule is about to get even more hectic since the preparations for it have just begun. Usually, you'd be home earlier than this but you really wanted to get the choreo down. The other dancers have already left before you and you insisted on staying. Hence, the reason why you were alone in the studio now.

Suddenly, your phone started to ringing while you were getting ready to leave. ‘Who would call me at 2 in the morning?’ You thought to yourself.

Joy immediately replaced your confusion and your eyes lit up when you saw the caller's name on the screen. But, you wondered why Jeonghan was calling because he would usually text first before anything else to make sure you were available.

“Hey! What's up? Why are you still awake?” You answered gleefully.

“…”

You raised your eyebrow at the silence that was coming from the other side of the line. Thinking maybe he must've accidentally dialed your number.

Eager to get some sort of response from him you asked, "Uh, Hannie. Are you there?"

"Mhm..." He finally answered.

"Phew. I thought you got kidnapped or something. What's going on?" You laughed.

Your ears were once again met with silence before he answered. "Nothing… I just wanted to hear your voice. I love your laugh, by the way. Wish I could hear it in person right now." His voice sounded groggy and some words sounded slurred. From the sound of it, you guessed that he was probably drinking.

"Did you drink?" You inquired.

He replied slowly with noticeable pauses in his phrases, as if thinking carefully about what he was going to say, "Yeah... A little bit... With Seungcheol. He found out about us… But it's all good… I'll explain to you tomorrow when I'm feeling sober.”

You gulped, worrying about how the whole situation turned out. "So, you guys didn’t fight or anything?"

"Heh... we didn’t so don’t worry. I can take you out on all the dates that I can now." He smiled then took a deep breath before he continued.

"Y/N... I'll never make you cry or feel neglected or pushed aside. If you ever feel unsure of what we have, I'll give you all the assurance you need. Heck, l'd even run to you right now if it was the fastest way to get to you. All you have to do is ask, my princess."

All of a sudden he sounded sober. It was like his thoughts were laid bare in front of you. You were a firm believer that drunk words are sober thoughts. And here he was saying all of his heart’s contents out loud. He did tell you that he liked you after your little movie date but this is more than you expected from him. It made you feel warm and fuzzy, similar to the feeling you felt when you first kissed him

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to let it all out... But I just wanted you to know how I feel about you." He continued.

"Thank you, Hannie. I… appreciate it and I really like you. You know that, right?" You bit your lip anticipating his response. You couldn’t come up with more words because of how your mind went blank over the affection you were receiving but God knows, if you could just give him a big warm hug right now, you most definitely would.

“Ahh… I like you too. A lot. I just want you to know that I’m ready to take the risk with you. Anywhere. Anytime.”

‘God. I must like Jeonghan more than I thought.’ You tried to cover your face with your hand that was unoccupied by the phone. The blood was now rushing to your face and all the way to your ears. And you were sure that if anyone was in the room right now, you’d never hear the end of it.

Your conversation was lengthy but filled with endearment. His drunk ramblings would stay in your mind for the days on end and whether he would remember it all tomorrow or not was not an issue to you as his drunk thoughts would now become the secrets that you would keep close to your heart.

—

3 months later

“Hannie!”

You open the door for your boyfriend. It’s been three months since you and Jeonghan started dating and you’ve never been happier. Tonight, you were having dinner together with the meal that you cooked for the both of you.

“I missed you so much.” He wrapped his arms around your waist while you gave him a hug above the shoulders. You gave each other the tightest squeeze you could.

He gave you a peck on the lips, still not letting go. “I missed you, too.” You answered.

You had just finished your promotions and it was his idea to celebrate it at your apartment so that you could rest a bit yet spend time together.

“Come on, the food’s gonna get cold.” The hug was broken off and you grabbed his hand instead to lead him to the dining table. He fixed the chair for you to sit on before getting to the seat in front of you.

In the time you’ve been dating, Jeonghan has been nothing but a gentleman to you. You’ve seen sides to him that you wouldn’t have seen if it weren’t for your girlfriend privileges. Yes, he would tease you sometimes but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. But mind you, you had a couple of incidents you could tease him on as well. Like how it turned out that he was crushing on you for years or how he would drunk call you and be all mushy. Although Jeonghan would never be ashamed about how he loves you, he would sometimes cringe at the things he would say, thinking it was so out-of-character of him to say those things. But nonetheless, you were the only one that could bring that side of him out.

After shortly rummaging through his bag beside him, he pulled out a long box. “Here it is. I think it would go wonderful with the steak tonight.”

“Oh my…” You looked at the familiar packaging in your boyfriend’s hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yep. It’s the same brand of wine we had in Paris. I bought it when Dino and I went back to Paris for a schedule.” He smiled at you before handing you the wine bottle.

Memories of that night flooded you as you remembered how you and Jeonghan shared your thoughts with each other. “This is kinda making me feel emotional for some reason.” The rush of emotions was evident in your tone.

Jeonghan sat in front of you again after getting the cork screw from your kitchen drawer. At this point, he has been in your house multiple times to the point where he now knows where everything is. It was his second home after all.

“Say… If we didn’t share a bottle of wine that night would we be here right now?” You wondered while still staring at it in your hands.

“I’m not quite sure about that myself. But I am sure about one thing.” He took your hand.

“What is that?”

He then kissed your hand and said, “I would’ve still found a way to be with you, regardless.”

You smiled at him and put the bottle down, putting all your focus on him. “Oh, Hannie. I love you so so much.”

“I love you too, my princess.”

The moment made you realize how thankful you were that you shared some wine with him that night. Oh, how glad it made you feel that you went out of your hotel room that night instead of watching some random series on Netflix to fight your jet lag. If it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t have realized how amazing it was to love and be loved by the man in front of you.

‘Please, may he be the last man I’ll ever love.’ You thought to yourself as you casually thank Paris for the magic it brought to the two of you.

-END-

author’s note: thank you so so much for everybody’s support! this series has officially come to an end! (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) i initially had it planned as a oneshot due to the chokehold that PFW jeonghan had on me but i’m glad that it was able to make it to 8 chapters. i’m planning to post an athlete!seungcheol oneshot soon so i can at least use my 2+ years of training in jiu-jitsu. lmao.

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mebemilena · 3 months

Text

Every breath you take. Every move you make

A/N: I'm trying to organize it. I'm enjoying it so far and I must practice my writing. I'm a comic book artist (writer and illustrator), and i'm slowly getting back on using Tumblr and writing fanfiction, english is not my first language. Feedback is welcome and THANK YOU so much for reading me <3

i think this would be between Bodyguard and We fight and breakup, We kiss and make up. it's a bit complicated to insert Reader on the episodes, sorry if it's a little messy. I prefer it much more whe we have more dialogues.

if you havent noticed, i love taking the titles from songs. This here is Every Breath you Take, by The Police.

pairing: maya lopez x reader AFAB reader

Arriving at Tamaha was the easy part. All you needed was a map and follow the track you put on Maya's prosthetic leg. You took the risk of her changing it, getting another. But you thought it'd be easy for her to steal another motorbike, or get a new phone than getting a prosthetic leg that fit her just right. Though you thought you could just put it on her favorite boots, you'd still pick the prosthetic leg. Something she couldn't just get rid of in a second.

As you drove an old Honda you'd keep yourself distant, the last thing you'd want now would be for Maya to find out you were following her. The only reason you knew about Tamaha at all was because she had told you before, when you were closer and she hadn't tried to kill Fisk yet. Before she broke your heart by running away without saying goodbye.

- - -

Watching Maya from afar was not difficult for you, as a Black Widow, you knew how to become invisible. But it hurt to see her so close yet so far from what you once had. You held yourself back as you watched stupid Vickie and those girls kidnap her, your blood boiling in your veins. But you knew better than to stop them at it, curious at what the hell they were trying to do.

As you followed Maya's steps for the past few days, you took notes of your date ideas. "Her uncle owns a skating park!", you said

to yourself, way too excited for the possibility of skating with Maya, holding her hand at the sound of Love is in the Air by John Paul Young. Your fantasy came to an end when you saw Boonie being taken. You couldn't help a smile though. "Not like I wanted to meet you. But we have a girl's night some day, yeah?', you thought.

Temptation ate your insides. You wanted to help Maya, to give her some support and beat Vicky until he begged you to stop and apologized to your Maya. But you couldn't risk much more than you had already. If leaving New York wasn't an indication your relationship was on the line, taking her as a princess and fighting her dragons would set fire to it all.

You kept tracking Maya on your phone, watching her wander around the room through your phone screen. When Zane arrived with his gang you couldn't help but rolling your eyes at him. You hated him, he seemed to think too high of himself and you didn't like the way he chewed on toothpicks, stinking like testosterone.

You took the time to enter the place and watch Maya from a tiny bit closer. You understood Vickies plan and it didn't take a genius to put two and two: he wouldn't get out of it alive. Stupid Vickie.

Zane's group filled the skating area, talking to Henry and Boonie. When Vickie got shot you rolled your eyes again. "Such a mess", you thought. "Where is Maya Lopez?", stupid Zane asked and Dragula by Rob Zombie screamed from the sound system all of a sudden.

You had to hold yourself not to cheer aloud, trying to keep softly headbanging your head through the music. You loved that song, Maya knew.

You started wondering if she chose that one because she knew you liked it and it made her think of you. Were you being delusional? Also, wasn't it too loud?

Oh, right. It doesn't bother her.

You got in the laser tag maze enjoying the music, taking a few man down cautiously so that Maya wouldn't find out you were there. You wore a mask in case one of them recognized you decided to tell on you, if they survived. You caugth her kicking their asses by the corner of your eye and almost ran to her, to tell her how great she looked while fighting, how you missed her and how much of a wimp you were for her. But that'd ruin your plans and instead of a heart-eyes Maya, you'd get broken ribs or a broken heart. Again.

The fight was getting fun but they seemed like ants around a sugarcane, always coming for more. Maya threw herself and one of those man through the wall and you felt the urge to kiss her. She fought all of them, with guns first and the with her own wrists. It made you gawk at her, your heart beating faster. You were flustered. She used the pistol wires as a whip and you moaned in your mind. "That's kinda sexy.", you thought, taking a mental note of how much of Catwoman she resembled. You'd tell her later.

The jacket trick got you biting your lip, and you almost aplaused her flawless aim.

But then Zane brought Boonie and you grunted. "Asswhole.", you mumbled.

They gathered again, around Maya and Henry, guns on their heads. But you were ready too. With your gun in hand and your eyes on them, it'd take Zane down with a buttlet to the head in no time.

But his phone rang and his plans changed. And so did yours.

You watched Boonie leave and had to stop yourself from offering some ice to put on her face. Poor girl, getting punched like that for free. When Maya went back inside, you made up your mind about what to do next. After tonight's events, you had to talk to her.

Check out my redbubble shop: https://www.redbubble.com/people/MilenaFernandes/shop?asc=u

toss a coin to your artist (me) at ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/mebemilena

#maya lopez x reader #maya lopez #marvel women #marvel echo #maya lopez fanfiction

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sammysficfactory · 11 months

Text

Fixer Upper

ex!postpt3!Jotaro x ex!blackcoded!reader

wc: ~2.1k words

summary: Five months after your abrupt breakup, Jotaro calls you to help put him back together again.

tags: exes to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: cursing, mentions of blood and needles

notes: tumblr deleted my acc so i’m restarting with my girl fixer upper bc i cant find my nanami fic, jotaro is kind of a jerk, this is very self indulgent, i made a few tweaks

"You look good." Jotaro says, his eyes fixed on your hand stitching his arm. It's been five months since you woke up one day to find his side of the bed cold, empty, and unmade. Jotaro had broken up with you shortly after that over text. He said that the two of you just weren’t working anymore. Now, Jotaro is inwardly grateful for the hat covering his face, as it hid how unhappy he's truly been since he left.

“Thanks, you too.” You say curtly. The silence between the two of you was awkward and deafening. So many unsaid words hung in the air like fresh laundry. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t feel angry when you saw Jotaro again, but you couldn’t help it. Questions ran through your mind at a mile a minute. Why did he leave? What wasn’t working? Why didn’t he tell me in person? Too many questions in so little time, so you didn’t ask.

“How have you been? You know since…” you trail off, alluding to his abrupt departure.

"Fine," Jotaro grumbles. He looks down at his arm as you continue your work. He's so thankful to be in your presence again, to hear your voice, to know you aren't completely gone, like so many people he loved, but he can't let you know how much this is upsetting him. He couldn’t afford to be weak, weakness was unnecessary and time consuming. Weakness got you killed. Jotaro had to be strong, just like the people counting on him call for him to be. Even if it feels like his heart is crumbling right in front of him with every second that passes.

"You?"

You sigh.

“To be honest? It’s been tough, but I’ve been pushing through.” You shrug. Jotaro’s heart clenches at the thought of you struggling in any capacity, but it hurts more because he knows he was the cause of it.

"You've been pushing through," he mutters, taking a breath and closing his eyes.

"You're tough." God, Jotaro thought. I feel like such a dick for calling her over here. But he didn’t know who else would answer. There was no one else who would answer.

“This one might sting, hold on.” You look up at him before making another stitch. He winces.

You wince, you never liked seeing Jotaro in pain. Even now, it hurt your heart to see him flinch or wince in pain.

“Sorry about that.” You finish two more stitches before rising from a hunched over position and stretching your back.

“Stay here, I’m gonna get you a bandage.” You walk over to the first aid kit you brought to grab a bandage to cover his arm. You come back to where Jotaro is.

“Give me your arm.”

"I'm already holding it out," he snaps. His voice is cold, but it doesn't hide the tinge of hurt he feels underneath. He doesn't look up to meet your gaze, and you wonder if it's his pride or his guilt that keeps him from doing so. Either way, he holds his arm up to you, his hand steady now that his body has processed the pain.

You sigh, already tired of the undeserved attitude you received, but you understood him.

“Please, not today.” You mutter. You wrap his arm carefully.

“I’m all done. Do you need anything else?” You ask, a small part hoping he would need something, anything else. Seeing and touching him in such a long time made your heart feel full again, but you knew that when Jotaro decides on something, you would have to go through hell and high water to change his mind.

"Nope," Jotaro says. The arm is wrapped in gauze, the bloody needle thrown away. He sighs, and suddenly, that small part of him wants you to ask him about his day, what he'd had for breakfast, anything. If you wanted something more, you knew that you'd have to be the one to broach the subject. To broach the subject of whether or not he wanted another chance. As it is, he's holding the door open for you.

“How was your morning?” You ask, clearly not wanting to leave his presence just yet, but who could blame you?

Jotaro narrows his eyes as he considers this, the corners of his lips lifting minutely.

"Fine." He's not quite sure what to ask you in turn, and he can't stand the silence.

"Yours?"

“It could’ve been better.” ‘With you’, you wanted to add, but decided against it. You sigh, walking out of the door reluctantly, wishing he would say something about the two of you. Even now after everything, you’d still take him back. It sounded bad, but you felt as if the love you and Jotaro shared was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and you never wanted to give it up.

He watches you leave, and it takes all of his willpower to not call you back into the room, to say he’s sorry, that he’s regretted every moment he woke up without you next to him, to admit that he would call for you in his sleep sometimes only to wake up only to be hit with the harsh reality of his choices. But that would be weak, and Jotaro had no time to seem weak. Weakness was time consuming and worthless. The look on your face tells him that he's hurt you in a way he can't undo, and he couldn't stomach the idea of bringing you anymore pain and unhappiness by getting you involved with him again. Jotaro watches you go, waiting until you're gone to let out a breath of exhaustion.

As you walk down the hall, a stream of tears fall down your face. What was the point of it all? Did he bring me over to hurt me all over again? Before you knew it, you were already angrily walking back to his door, knocking furiously.

“Open this fucking door!” You say, tears rushing down your face. Jotaro opens the door with a shocked and pained expression before quickly masking it with his usual cold and nonchalant mask.

Jotaro jumps, then freezes.

"U-" he begins, unsure of what to say. He takes two steps back from the door, knowing you're a force to be reckoned with, especially when you get upset.

"What do you want?" he asks. His voice is cold and neutral, hiding the way his heart is racing in his chest. On the inside, Jotaro thanks whatever higher power that his voice didn’t betray him.

You walk in, pressing a finger into his broad chest.

“Why’d you tell me to come here, hm? Five months, Jotaro. Five fucking months! Not a word from you. All I got was a text saying that ‘we weren’t working’. What wasn’t working? What was the problem? You just up and left! You left me! You left us!” A mix of anger, pain, hurt, confusion, and frustration paint your features.

“That’s not fair Jotaro, and you know it!”

"And this is? What the fuck did you want me to do?" He asks, a bit incredulously. It's hard not to be hurt by your anger, even though he knows you have every right to be upset. Jotaro crosses his arms over his chest, but doesn't retreat any further.

"It's not fair for me to put you through all the stuff I did. The nightmares, the anger, none of it. I did it for you. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that, Y/N."

“But I was willing! I loved you- no scratch that, I love you despite all that! I thought we could’ve helped you together.” Your voice breaks.

“You don’t think I would’ve left if I couldn’t handle it? Was it me? What was it that made you leave?”

A part of him wants, no, craves to open his arms to you, take you in, apologize, and tell you that you'll make it through this together. But the greater part of him wants to keep you safe and unhurt. You deserve the world, but how can something so hurt and damaged give someone like you their love?

"It's not you, Y/N," he says, his voice quiet.

"It's all me. I didn't think I was worthy to have your love. I still don't." he says guiltily, almost as if he was a child who was caught messing with something he shouldn’t have.

“You don’t get to decide that! I do. I decide who to give my love to, Jotaro. I’m the one who deems people worthy of loving. And I deemed you worthy a long time ago.” You sniff, not as angry but still a bit hurt. You felt for Jotaro, his time in Egypt had taken a toll on him. But you couldn’t excuse his behavior.

He looks at you, your kind eyes, your understanding heart. And he sees himself as a broken monster, filled with rage and malice and despair, and he wonders how someone can love a beast like that. If he took you back, all his wounds would inevitably bleed onto you.

“Y/N,” he says softly, like you were something fragile he was terrified of breaking,

“You can do better than me. Why would you choose… this?” You grasp at his chest and shake him back and forth.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t want better. I want you! I want you, Jotaro.” A small, wistful, hopeful laugh escapes his lips.

“Why? Why would you settle for something like me? There are so many people who could love you better than I can.” He doesn't understand why you would want him, but by god, it feels like maybe there's a chance. A chance to try again, to start anew.

“Because I don’t know how to love anyone the way I love you. It’s always been you. I don’t want to have my pick of anyone else, I want you. In all your brokenness.” You move your hands from his shoulders and cup his face. “I love you, Jotaro. I couldn’t think to love someone else.”

He stares back at you, his lips parted. His heart is pounding in his chest, and every instinct in him is telling him to kiss you, right there, so you could see just how sorry he truly was. He doesn't do it, but his fingertips rise to touch your cheek, his thumb caressing the side of your tear stained face lightly.

"Y/N," he whispers, and the way he says your name tells you everything you need to know.

You pull Jotaro into a long embrace, kissing his temple.

“I don’t want anyone else. Just you. Just Jotaro.” You say quietly, but loud enough for him to hear me.

"Just me?" he asks. Tears prick his eyes at the thought. You would really put yourself through the ups and downs of dating a man like him? Even if your feelings for him are true, there are many times when he's cold and distant, other times when he's kind and loving. It was all worth it for you? He didn’t want to believe it, because that would leave Jotaro with one conclusion. He was worthy of love, and life.

You nod.

“Just you, forever.” You were willing to go to hell and back for him, and he knew it.

"Forever?" he asks softly. His hands cup your face, and he lowers a delicate but loving kiss on your lips before he can convince himself to stop.

"You'd really accept that deal?"

Your heart feels complete once again during the kiss, though Jotaro was a man of few words, but you understood everything he said through the kiss. You nod your head.

“A million times if you asked me to.”

"I don't know what I did to deserve a woman like you," he says, leaning his forehead against yours.

"But I'll take it."

A small laugh bubbles up your chest and comes out of your mouth.

“I love you, Jotaro.”

"I love you too," he says back. A million times over. He thinks he might cry from relief, but he doubts it.

You wipe the remnants of your tears from your face.

“I wish you would’ve told me this was how you were feeling, but I understand why you didn’t. Egypt and Dio have made you tough and closed off, but there’s still a softness in you. That’s what makes you human. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be Jotaro with me, I want you to be Jojo.” You say.

"I can do that," he says, a small and tentative smile gracing his face. He is Jojo, not Jotaro, and he's going to make sure you have no doubt of that.

"But you know what happened to me," Jotaro adds,

"I’m broken in a lot of ways. Are you okay with that?"

A soft and fond smile grows. You nod.

“I understand that, and I’m ready to love you despite all of it. I knew what I signed up for the first time I told you that I loved you.”

Jotaro blinks back tears.

"You were so easy to love," he says softly, "I still can't believe you'd put yourself through my hurt and anger and darkness because you love me."

You raise your pinky finger to him.

“We’ll get through it together, just like we always do.” You say with a soft smile.

He links his pinky, eyes shining with love. "Together."

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nrc-research-club · 1 year

Text

driver’s license

↬ Summary: In which you finally get your driver's license and offer a ride to the guys. It goes as well as you can imagine.

↬ Characters: Jamil Viper, Jade Leech

↬ Tags: fluff, bit of crack

↬ Notes: i am back!! from a very long hiatus!! i also have another side blog for another fandom now haha so that made me think of writing something for here. also on a side note.. should i open ko-fi or something similar for those who want to commission when requests are closed? let me know in an ask or a reply or literally anywhere haha

Jamil Viper

↬ When you tell Jamil that you've finally gotten your license, he feels, at the very least, proud. Driving is hard no matter how you look at it, and getting a license is just proof of how much you've practiced earning one. He gives you reminders such as to never drink and drive or to always take a break if you feel like you're too tired to drive.

↬ He's quite confident in you, so when you ask him if he wants to join you for a ride, he thinks of how to leave Kalim in someone's care for a while before saying yes. His family would kill him for this, but Kalim would kill everyone in the car if he were to join.

↬ With Kalim out of the way and you being super enthusiastic about driving, the two of you get in the car with high hopes. You've planned on driving around town to do some errands, but the moment you start your car, it makes a weird noise that drains the color from Jamil's face.

↬ "Hey," he says after a long pause, getting nervous and rechecking his seatbelt. You still have a smile on your face, but it doesn't ease his worries one bit. "That doesn't sound good—"

↬ The car jerks forward before moving again, and he swore he got whiplash and a heart attack from it. Your engine sounds like it's dying, making whirring noises that definitely sounded wrong.

↬ "It's okay!" you say as you step on the gas. The car whirs and buzzes as the speedometer rises (along with Jamil's blood pressure), and then realization dawns on you. "Oh! I forgot to change my gear. Hold on."

↬ As you take one hand off the steering wheel, the car starts moving to the side. Jamil snaps, holding onto his seat for dear life as he watches his life flash in front of him. Maybe this was good since it would free him from his duties, and yet… dying in a car crash seems too terrible, even for him.

↬ "What are you doing!?" he asks when you accidentally turn your headlights on instead of making a signal. A car from behind you honks its horn, but you pay it no mind as you make a turn and activate the signal at the very last moment. It's a wonder you haven't gotten pulled over yet.

↬ "Just relax! See, let's park right there," you say, briefly gesturing to a spot sandwiched between two, very expensive-looking cars. Jamil glances between you and the cars, sighing in disbelief as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

↬ "Get out," he says, already halfway through the door. The last thing he needs is to pay for damages when you inevitably crash into those cars. "I'm going to be the one driving from now on."

Jade Leech

↬ Jade is very supportive from the start, his carefully practiced expression dismissing any of your initial concerns. Little do you know there are pads, a helmet, and a first aid kit in his bag, just in case the two of you needed it even before you arrived at the campsite. He observes you as you start the car, noting how you checked the mirrors and seatbelts first before anything else. Good.

↬ It's a long drive ahead, so he's resigned himself to keeping you alert so you don't fall asleep. After all, you're the only one with a license between the two of them, because driving with his new legs is a little too complicated for Jade yet.

↬ The drive starts out fairly fine. He has never heard that many suspicious noises in the span of a few minutes in his lifetime, but he chalks it up to your relative inexperience. No one starts out perfect at driving, especially with how difficult it is in the first place.

↬ He would've applauded you for even getting to the freeways without crashing into anyone yet if it weren't for your personality change midway. You start spewing out insults, pressing on the gas to overtake some poor grandmother who was in the wrong lane. If he hadn't known you for some time, he would've been… scared.

↬ "Yeah, get your ass off the highway if you can't keep up with the minimum speed limit," you spit as you get back to your original lane. Jade retains the calm facade on his face, but he's already thinking if he should force you into pulling over and calming down soon.

↬ "My dear," he starts out, one hand in his backpack in case he already needs to take the helmet out. "Shouldn't you exercise more patience? You are a new driver yourself, after all."

↬ "Nah," you say, swerving as another slow car blocks your way. Jade is sure you're breaking so, so many laws right now. "Oh hey, that's our exit. Crap, I'm not in the outer lane right now."

↬ After narrowly missing your exit and decreasing Jade's lifespan by at least a few years, the two of you are finally at the base of the mountain you decided on camping at. Jade's legs shake as he gets out of the car, threatening to give up as he attempts to walk over to your side.

↬ With a gentle, yet firm hand on your shoulder, he gives you his signature smile before saying, "Let us take the mirror next time, shall we?"

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jamil viper x reader #jade leech x reader #twst fluff #jade leech fluff #jamil viper fluff

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aziraphales-library · 1 year

Note

Hello! First just wanna say that your archive here is godsend, I started and finished the serie a few days ago (a lil late for the fandom but oh well), and on the same day that I finished I found here, I am no we're near nor have read every fic here, but that didn't stopped me for not sleeping that night.

I was wondering if you have any recommendations for fics about Crowley and Zira rasing Warlock, not Adam, as theirs. It could also be that they took Warlock in after the failed apocalypse. Just just something nice about these two beings and the child they helped raise.

Thanks!! 💕

Hello and welcome to the fandom--it’s never too late! You can find loads of fics that’ll interest you on our #kid fic, #warlock dowling, and #the dowling years tags, so check those out. I have some here, at least some of which will have have recommended before, but we have been asked for kid fic recs a lot already so repeats are gonna happen...

Correspondence by satalderihannsu (G)

Warlock Dowling has kept in touch with his beloved nanny from his childhood. They send each other Christmas cards every year. This year, however, contains a longer note than usual.

Some things are worth believing in (Including you) by Phoenix_of_Athena (T)

“Warlock,” Nanny had said, and cupped his face again, “I want you to promise me something. I want you to promise me something, and it might seem odd, but I need you to do it, okay?” “What?” said Warlock. “Just promise me,” said Nanny. “I promise.” “Good,” she’d said, “Now, if you ever—and I mean ever find yourself in a situation like this again—one that seems scary, or one where any normal person would be in danger—I need you to pray. Pray to Aziraphale or to Crowley to come and get you.” “Who’s that?” asked Warlock. “Just promise me,” insisted Nanny in a voice like iron, “Aziraphale and Crowley. Can you repeat those names?” “Y—yeah. Azif—Aziraphale and Crowley.” "Good boy."

At Least It's a Decent Shelf by dragonimp (T)

“Then why?” Warlock jerked back and struck at him. “I turned eleven and you were suddenly just gone. And then Megiddo happened—” Aziraphale caught Crowley’s eye. “Ah—” “Well—” “You see—” “Long story—”

Almost Familiar by MickyRC (T)

Warlock couldn't help being a little underwhelmed by Soho. There was nothing there that really struck him.

Except that bookshop. That weird little street corner that didn’t match up at all with the bars and clubs all around it. That place was interesting. The paint was chipping, and the windows were too dusty to see through, but it felt… safe, sort of. A calm little patch of quiet at the center of London’s hustle and bustle. Something about it was… almost familiar.

In which Warlock thinks he's been abandoned, Crowley and Aziraphale think Warlock is dead, and they all find each other anyway.

My Dearest Warlock by Sassyandsarcastic15 (T)

Biological family doesn't always mean everything. Biological family can hurt you, break you, mock you, or leave you. Blood doesn't always mean everything. True family isn't defined by blood, but rather by true love that can never be taken or forsaken.

Warlock Dowling was more than happy to receive the news that Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis are willing to take him and raise him as their own. Although, he did receive a rather large shock upon learning the identity of his former nanny and gardener. But that doesn't really matter, all that matters is that Warlock has the family he always wanted.

With adventures that only God could have though up and romances that have been boiling for centuries, the small little town of Tadfield is in for an awakening that no one expected. And sometimes, the unplanned things are the best.

Ground Control by nieded (T)

In which Crowley kidnaps the Antichrist as a baby--or so he thinks--and ends up with Warlock instead. Basically, I wanted a story where Warlock got a happy ending. Here it is.

Or: Aziraphale closes the shop earlier and earlier until they’re spending all day together, every moment. They take Warlock to the art museum and have a Star Trek marathon. Warlock loves The Next Generation but still reserves a special place in his heart for Spock from the original. He hangs a poster of the Vulcan next to David Bowie, his stern face in direct opposite to the cocked hip and flair of the rockstar. They go good together, though, the spacemen. If they lived a different life, Crowley thinks, he’d swoop Warlock up and take him to the stars. He’d show him Alpha Centauri, a system comprised of two large suns in orbit around each other, and a third circling them both.

That’s you, he’d say to Warlock, and the other is Aziraphale. He’d point to the two stars in the centre drawn to each other. And that’s me going around you both.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #kid fic #warlock dowling #reunion #found family #mod d

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narcolini · 1 year

Text

the other man, pt. 2

moisés (sky rojo) x gn!reader, 3406 words

warnings for blood, gunshot wounds, DIY medical treatment

for day 17 of whumpril: cry for help | self treatment | ‘i can’t do this.’

a/n: the way this poor guy has no (?) fics on here at all, and im already maiming him. my god

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc

part one here

You left him there. You left him there, and it’s been hours, sun sinking beneath the horizon, warmth slipping into cold. He hasn’t rang you. Not even a text. He’s probably dead, right? You probably left him to die. Shirt splattered with red, arm stretched across the concrete. Gun just out of reach.

You groan, turning to push your face into the pillow. It doesn’t help to imagine it. Even if he’s alive, you might never see him again. What if’s won’t do anything but torment you, if there’s never any closure, no evidence of the alternative.

The last you saw of him, he was alive. In control. Not scared in the slightest, as far as you could tell, so that’s what you’ll remember. What you’ll cement as fact. Alive, uninjured. Unrecognisable to the man you thought you knew, but not dead, at least.

Go away with me, he said. He knew they were coming. He tried to get out, you with him, hand in hand, before they got there. That meant something, right? The Moisés you knew was holding out still, before the gunfire. Putting you and him in the sun.

‘Fuck,’ you sigh, and flop back over to stare at the ceiling. A lifetime of wondering, then. That’s what you’ve been cursed with. You won’t sleep all night, wondering if he’s alive, wondering if it was a mistake to try and know him, and then in the morning, you’ll dress. Open the shop. Sell string bags and sunglasses to tourists, then go home and wonder again.

You almost resent him suddenly, hot and striking across your chest—he could’ve told you. Could’ve given you some warning that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the type of guy to go on coffee dates with. To give your address to, to let brush his fingertips over you. You were half a breath away from falling for him. And the whole time, he was entwined in something dangerous enough to put you at risk. Real, true harm, only a car crash away.

It was cowardice, really, keeping it from you for his own sake. It made him a coward. Or stupid. Head so far in the clouds, he thought you’d never see the ground.

The buzzer to your flat goes, sharp and rattling through the box by the door.

You sit upright, out of the covers, to follow the sound before the first press is even complete. Then you’re in the hallway, heart thumping, when it goes again. Prolonged, this time, because whoever’s pressing it, down on street level, isn’t relenting. They’re just holding it and holding it, and it’s echoing off the walls either side of you, so loud it’s making you cringe. Wince.

You reach the door, click the camera icon on the intercom. It takes a second to warm up, grey and black fuzzing into shapes, into features. It’s him. God, it’s him. His forehead’s against the wall by the camera, but you recognise the nose, the jaw, the swinging earring.

He doesn’t lift his finger from the bell until you say his name, desperate and questioning.

‘Cariño,’ he replies, tinny through the box. It sounds like he’s panting, hissing the words out. It could be the connection. You can’t remember how it sounded before now, how people besides him, right now, spoke through it. ‘Let me in.’

Your hands are sweating, slipping from the button you press to speak back at him. ‘What happened? Are you okay?’

His head drops momentarily, before lifting again, gaze flitting about to find the eye of the camera. ‘I need your help. Please.’ He cuts himself off, panting a noise out like he’s in pain. A sound you’ve never heard him make.

You’re swinging from the door before he can ask again. Leave it open, to save time when you come back. It’s late enough in the night that you don’t have to worry about neighbours, and you’re only on the first floor, only one communal stairwell away from him.

Your feet slap against the stone as you descend, cold chilling up your bare legs. The t-shirt and gym shorts you’re wearing were never meant to leave the home, were never meant to be seen, by him of all people, riddled with moth holes and paint. It doesn’t matter. He needs you.

The latch on door at the bottom sticks, for a moment. You rattle it free, desperate, then lug the huge timber open to get at him.

‘Moi.’ It comes out like a breath.

He’s standing at half the height he usually is, his chin down to his chest, one arm stretched to prop him against the brick. You pull him forward like you’re starving, hook a hand around his shoulder to get him in from the night.

It doesn’t matter, now, that he kept things from you. That he thought he could. He’s alive, standing in front of you, and alive. You can’t wait until the door’s shut again, you have to hug him, have to feel his heartbeat against your own. You tug at him—

He holds you off, firmly, heel of his palm pressing into your collarbone. ‘Don’t,’ he bites, harder than you’d expect from him.

For a split second, you’re offended, anger flitting between your ears, but then you look down. You see why he’s stopped you.

‘Shit, Moi. Fuck.’

He’s bleeding, and a lot. So much, that you must be stupid, or blind, to have even missed it. Too caught up in the relief of seeing him, that you hadn’t really seen him at all. It’s dark down his thigh, staining one leg of his jeans, and splattered up his forearm. He’s got one palm pushed to the source of it, more red than the usual tan of his skin, tight to his stomach. The ring on his pinky looks like it’s carrying a ruby, gold hidden beneath.

‘Get me upstairs,’ he says, through the grit of his teeth.

‘What? No, we’re going to the hospital.’

He pushes a shaky breath, taking a half-step into the entry way. ‘Please.’ His cleaner hand shifts from your collar, to sit on your shoulder for support. ‘Upstairs, cariño.’

It had done you well to trust him the last time he asked something of you. You can only hope he’s making the right decision again, choosing you over the medical staff he so obviously needs.

You pull his wrist until his arm is sitting over your shoulders properly, taking as much of his weight as you can manage. Kick your foot out to shut the door behind you. It’s clumsy, messy. He’s heavier than you expected, all limp, tired muscle, that fights you with every step. If you didn’t have to, life or death, you wouldn’t manage it. You couldn’t lift him.

He’s wincing by you ear each time you go up, hissing it through the set of his jaw, but you can’t help that. This is the only way there is.

‘Sorry.’ You stagger as you reach the mid-way landing, pulling him and his heavy steps around the corner. ‘Last bit.’

He nods. His hand is still planted to the wound by his navel, but it hasn’t stopped the blood from spreading. It’s on the stairs behind you, on the second leg of his jeans, on you. It’s on you, smeared up your side somehow, and on the collar of your shirt, left from the hand he’s hanging over it. You don’t look at it. Don’t think about it. Your door is in sight, wide open and ready for you.

‘There.’ You’re breathing heavy like you’d ran, as you put him against the wall in the hallway. ‘Hold on.’

You lock the door behind, thread the chain in the latch, like that extra piece of metal will stop anyone who might’ve followed him. There’s fingerprints of red, everywhere you touch. It doesn’t matter. It’s okay. Just more paint stains to scrub out, right?

When you turn back, he’s not slumped against the wall still, but is making his way to the kitchen. Rigid, stiff with pain. He looks like he’s limping, but his legs are good, you’re sure they are, it’s the flex of his stomach that he’s trying to avoid, trying to overcompensate for.

‘Moisés, wait.’ You follow after him.

‘Do you have a sewing kit?’

‘What?’

‘Needle, thread.’ He looks over his shoulder. There’s blood on his chin, streaking down his neck. Everything he touches is marked with it.

You don’t make him ask again, disappearing into the second room you use as an office. There’s one in the drawers there, a gift from your grandma that you’ve used once and never again. You know what comes next, you can work it out, he’s going to want to use it. On himself, he’s going to stitch himself shut. Drip blood on the tiles while he threads it through his skin.

‘Here.’ You try to pass it to him now you’re back, but he just nods, and continues to manoeuvre himself around the kitchen. You put it on the side, offering a hand for support when he lifts himself onto the breakfast stool. ‘What happened?’ you ask, though you already know.

He laughs, breathy and barely amused. ‘What d’you think?’ He peels the hand away. ‘I got shot.’

‘Fuck.’

You feel the heat drain from your face, feel the room spinning slightly. There’s a hole in his stomach, staring back at you, leaking blood that’s almost black.

‘I need you to get it out,’ he pants, looking up through his lashes, ‘the bullet.’

‘What?’

‘It’s,’ he winces, repositioning himself, ‘it’s gotta come out.’

‘No.’ Your head shakes. ‘No, I can’t, I don’t know how.’

He tries to smile, nodding. ‘It’s easy, okay? I’ll talk you through it.’

But you can’t even stand straight. You’re swaying, sweating though you’re cold, goosebumps running up your arms.

‘Wash your hands,’ he says, doing his best to sound like it’s easy. Like he isn’t wasting breath and energy on instructions. ‘You have a lighter? Get a lighter, a knife, put it through the flame—’

‘Fuck, wait.’

He’s still going and you’re only at the hand washing part, scrubbing desperately. No matter how thorough you are, it still won’t work, you still won’t be clean enough to root about in his stomach.

‘Tranquilo,’ he sighs. ‘Tenemos tiempo.’

‘Do we?’ you bark back at him, flicking water as you shut off the tap. ‘You look like you’re fucking dying, Moisés.’

‘I know, I know.’ He’s pushing his hand over the wound again, feet slipping from the bar of the stool as he tries to stay on the seat. ‘If it was going to kill me, it would have.’

You don’t have to be medically trained to know that that’s bullshit. It could have damaged him elsewhere, somewhere deeper than surface level. He could drop dead in a day, or a week, regardless of how well you manage things right now.

‘Okay,’ you mutter, ‘okay, lighter, knife.’

You find them both in the same drawer and bring them back to him, like he needs to supervise the next step. As if he isn’t taking longer, slower blinks, and deeper swallows of air. He doesn’t look at you directly once you’re there, wet thumb slipping from the wheel, again and again, before you finally catch the spark.

‘Like this?’ You put the flame under the blade, waiting.

He nods. ‘Lo est—esteriliza.’ He winces, looking up after you’ve torched the metal to the point of changing colour. ‘Ta bien.’

You toss the lighter onto the counter. Now you’re standing in front of him, hands shaking slightly, with the knife poised in mid-air like you’re about to fence him, not dig a bullet from his stomach. ‘I don’t know how to…’

He lifts his hand again, wet with fresh blood, though you can’t tell how much. The bleeding has slowed slightly, maybe. You hope. He nods, groaning as he pushes his hips forward. He’s trying to flatten himself as much as the stool will allow, pulling his torn shirt away from the site.

The room swings, tilting around you. ‘I can’t do this,’ you whisper. The knife feels hot to the touch, even from the handle, it feels like gripping a scalding poker meant for cattle. ‘I can’t.’

‘You can,’ he counters, you have to, he means. ‘It’s okay.’

‘No, no, I really can’t, Moi.’ You swallow, pushing back against the rising bile. ‘You—you.’

He takes the knife from you clumsily, though his hands are far from clean, and bends to see the wound himself. You didn’t mean for him to do it, did you? You were going to say something else, you were going to—

‘Shit,’ he hisses, slipping in his seat again. The knife is wobbling in his hold, because he’s shaking more than you are. Red fingers unable to grip the thing tight enough to start.

It’s not going to work. He won’t be able to do it himself.

‘Damelo.’ You pluck it from him without waiting for an answer. ‘What do I do?’

His chest heaves, breath staggering out of him. ‘Try and feel for it,’ he says, panting between each word, ‘use the knife to lever it out.’

You don’t have time to doubt your ability anymore. He’s lagging, shaking from the pain now the adrenaline’s wearing off, and you have to do it for him. There’s no-one else he can go to, clearly. He wouldn’t be here if there was, so it’s you, or nothing.

You step between his knees, one hand on his stomach to steady you. You can’t see the bullet, obviously, just black and red, and slick wetness that you really don’t want to touch. There’s no going back now.

You put the tip of the blade into the opening and he growls, clenching his teeth around the noise. His stomach tenses beneath you, his thighs pincer around your hips—it’s all impulse, subconscious reactions that he can’t stop. The body trying to protect itself from the intruder.

‘I think I feel it.’ Hard where everywhere else is soft, it catches against the end of the knife.

‘Fuck.’ He’s huffing air from his nose, steaming like a bull. ‘Get it out.’

‘I’m trying.’

You’re cutting the edges of him, splitting the skin where it wasn’t split before, but eventually, you think you have it. The end beneath the bullet. You press down without warning, because it wouldn’t have helped anyway, and force it out. Right back the way it had come.

It doesn’t clatter to the ground, but instead rolls down his stomach, slow and wonky, to sit in his lap. It’s smaller than you expected. That, caused all this?

He says your name once. You’d been staring at it, knife away from him and in the air again, eyes on the bloodied metal on his jeans. Right, yeah. Close the wound.

The intrusion has caused more bleeding, but there’s so much already that it doesn’t make you pause. You’re the one riding on adrenaline now, reaching for the sewing kit, finding thread, a needle, while he hums in pain beside you. He’s got his lips pressed together, a whimper following each exhale he forces through his nose.

You’re beyond words now, the both of you. He doesn’t need to guide you through it. Can’t, really. And you don’t need to lie to him that it’ll only be a little longer, only be a little pinch. It’s just time to get it over with. Sew the skin together as best you can, hope the damage isn’t enough to kill him. Toes over the edge, and jump.

He had slept for a bit, afterwards, and you sat at the end of the bed watching him. You’d stitched the wound as best you could, but it won’t hold. It won’t do him any good in the long run.

He hadn’t wanted to wash himself once you’d finished, like you thought he should. So you’d helped him into the bedroom and cleaned what you could from his skin with a facecloth. It didn’t get it all, and he wouldn’t let you wipe too close to the site, but his hands are clean at least. His face isn’t streaked with blood anymore.

You put him in the biggest t-shirt you own, bought to be oversized anyway, and he looks like a child in it. Besides where the sleeves stretch tight over his arms, it drowns him. He slept not long after. Propped against your pillows, with the sheet up to his waist. It’d been a relief; he looked peaceful. You didn’t mind missing out on your own sleep just to watch him.

Now, though, he’s coming to. You know, because his brows are pinching slightly, twitching together as the pain returns to him. He takes a bigger breath than he should, chest lifting, stitches straining, then hisses and opens his eye.

He looks afraid for a second, shoulders tensing. Then it drops, and he sees you, and he blows a breath too forced to be real, genuine relief.

You smile limply. It’s three o’clock, the birds aren’t up yet. The room is dim still, lit with the in-between blue of night and sunrise. ‘Morning, Moi.’

The apple in his throat bobs as he swallows. Then his hand goes up, pointing, and you’re on you feet before he even has to ask. You pass him the glass from the bedside, which he takes with both hands, drinking like he’s been denied it for weeks.

‘Thank-you,’ he says afterwards, handing it back to you.

You nod and leave it on the edge of the cabinet, so that he might be able to get it himself next time. ‘Thought you might not wake up,’ you admit, returning to your post on the end of the bed. Just a hand’s distance from his covered feet. ‘So, thank-you, for not doing that. Don’t think I could explain a dead man in my bed.’

He smiles, just with his lips, because it doesn’t reach his eyes yet. ‘I wouldn’t have come,’ he says, leaving you to fill in the rest as he takes another shallow breath.

He wouldn’t have come, he means, if he thought he would die. But what would he have done instead? Crawled off into the bush like animals do, found somewhere quiet to die on his own?

You might not know him as you thought you did, but you care for him still, of course you do. You don’t want to think of him going like that, alone and in pain. The time you've spent together hasn’t been a complete waste—it can’t be, you won’t let it be. There’s something about him, about you. Something you shared over pastries in the mornings by the beach.

‘I feel like I’m sitting with a stranger,’ you admit, putting it to him quietly, like any louder and it’ll hurt him, press into the swelling beside his navel. ‘I don’t understand.’

You thought you had more to the say, but that covers it all. You don’t understand. You don’t understand why he was attacked, why he had a gun, why he kept half of his life hidden from you.

‘You have a lot of questions,’ he says, voice low and thick with sleep. Or hoarse from grunting in pain.

You nod, shy to meet his gaze.

‘Ask them.’ He shrugs, a minuscule gesture, more led by his expression than anything else. ‘I don’t want anymore secrets.’

He’s tired, you can tell, not only from the day before, the injuries, but from the combination of it all. From the weight on his back, the cost of folding mystery over his life. He wants out. Wants the truth between you, no matter the consequence.

‘If you want me to leave, after you…’ He swallows, jaw clenching as he nods, like he’s trying to convince himself of it, before putting forth the idea. ‘I’ll go. You won’t see me again.’

The knee jerk reaction is to tell him that you don’t want that, that you would’t send him away in this state—or any, really—just because of who he is. What he does. But you know that’s a self-laid trap, waiting to be stepped in. He could say anything. He could be anyone.

‘Okay,’ you reply, accepting his deal. ‘Let’s start at the beginning.’

#moises x reader #sky rojo fanfiction #whumpril2023 #<3<3<3<3 #love a man grunting in pain in a fictional setting #really soothes the soul

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writingmaidenwarrior · 1 year

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Flash Fic Friday: Against the Flow

@flashfictionfridayofficial I finally wrote again thanks to you. So here we are

This time it is Saylah's POV, one of the other POV characters of my WIP "Their Call For Home"

Tagging @fictionalbullshitter @verba-writing @cljordan-imperium @oh-no-another-idea @ettawritesnstudies @ashen-crest

Slowly Saylah was getting frustrated, and this frustrated Kaladin which in turn frustrated Saylah even more. For solid two hours, she had been staring at the orb in front of her to fulfill the task given by her mentor and foster father, but nothing happened. “Are you sure this is how it works?”, she asked for a hundredth times. “Well, this is how your mother put it in the training manual for you…” His voice sounded helpless the first time in over twenty years. Kaladin turned the pages back and forth, but the thick notebook didn’t want to give away any more information than what he already told her when they started.

Saylah rubbed her temples and leaned back in the chair, the back hitting the backrest painfully fast as her long braids got caught between both and probed their beaded ends in the middle of her back like little wooden fingers. She let out another frustrated sigh as she reached out with one hand in a silent ask to see for herself. “I don’t think this will help you. There are no schemes or any visual help. Just these two pages about how to use far-sight.” “I just want to read it again in case I forgot something. Maybe I just don’t have this skill. In the end, I am just half dragonborn. We don’t know what powers I have and what I don’t.” Nodding along, Kaladin stroked his braided beard thoroughly. “Yes, that makes sense. Just because we didn’t find a power so far you don’t have, doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Read and try again. If nothing happens in the next half an hour, we call it off and declare this as a power you don’t have.” “Thank you.” How gracious Saylah was could be heard from the deep sigh that hide in her thanks. Kaladin smiled and went to pour himself another cup of tea. “You know, little whirlwind, if I think about it, it is amazing we didn’t experience such an event already.” “You mean me wanting to throw things?”, Saylah replied, partially absent-minded. “I thought that is your usually you?”, he teased. A cup of tea appeared next to her. “What else?” “Me teaching you is against everything known to every living creature. A dwarven warrior teaching a dragonborn hatchling how to use her powers. Quite against the natural flow of things, isn’t it, little whirlwind? It is a small miracle we came so far.” Chuckling, Saylah looked up from the notebook. “You are more than a warrior.” “Am I? Amuse me, Saylah, what am I?” The teacup in his hand, Kaladin wandered over to her other side, his eyes trained on her like a mentor during fight training. “You are a wonderful, warm-hearted person and the best foster father I could wish for. You know more about magic than a warrior should, which means you are surely not a simple warrior, same with your manners. Even if you stay silent about your upcoming, I can put two and two together with all those adventurers and travelers coming through Mer’Teval. You had been someone high regarded back home. Maybe a paladin? A royal guard or something close? I know from the bits and pieces you told that you and my mother met through the queen and some high-ranked quest you got sent on. I understand she must stay away from the city, probably from the kingdom, but I still don’t get why she left me here under your care. And we both know, there is more to you and Amon than both of you would ever openly admit. Going against the flow, like you put it, seems to lay in your blood, my beloved Kaladin.” A proud smile on his face, he sat down, again nodding to her words.” “Your observation skills are on point, young dragon. Keep it sharp. You will need it in the future.” Saylah furrowed her brows at him at the sudden change of tone. “Why?” “You are right, I had been some high-ranked man back home and got sent to aid your mother on the quest the queen sent her on. You know, dwarves and dragonborn had been friends for hundreds of years. It was a question of honor to answer her call for aid. I also don’t fully understand her decision to put you under my care and make me promise that only if your life would be endangered, we can leave Mer’Teval, but I trust her reasons. And for Amon, that is nothing for little girl’s eyes.” Kaladin snickered, much to Saylah’s annoyance. He glanced to the orb with a soft nod. “Shall we?” “One last try?” “One last try, little whirlwind. After this, we call it off and end your lessons for today.” She rubbed her hands together and leaned forward again with a determined glance. “Well, then. Let’s see.”

#writblr #writing #flashficfriday #wynne writes

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darsynia · 1 year

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Trust Fall | Ch8a

ARC by Eury Escodero on Unsplash | image by 'neverfeltbetter’ on wordpress

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, ‘terrorists made us fall in love;’ IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Emory and Tony deal with the early symptoms of the injection.

Length: 3,476

I’m shy as hell about saying this but if anyone wants to be tagged or ask me to write something please do! Tags: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon, @starksbf

Excerpt:

“Busy,” he grunts.

“Wow, I think hell just froze over. Tony Stark saying no to fooling around with a woman? Mark this date down in history,” she says, deliberately lowering her tone, pushing it into the sultry register that the recording execs tried to get Rory to speak like in interviews early on.

The torch shuts off.

Tony doesn’t turn around. “I thought I bathed in the blood of innocents?”

“All evidence to the contrary, I know, but I kind of would like to stay alive, and kissing you is a perk to that end,” Emory says flippantly.

“A perk?” he asks, turning his head and lifting the ridiculous welding glasses he’s wearing up onto his forehead. With the leather jacket protecting his arms and his damned glasses lifted up, Tony looks like a steampunk engineer and it is working on her right now, even though she’s pissed at him.

“Like you don’t know your power over women?”

“Power? Over you?” He sets down the welding torch and makes sure to disconnect the power. His hands are filthy. Wherever he might (will) touch her will show the evidence of it. “Prove it. Come here.”

“So demanding,” Emory says, but she’s already walking over.

Chapter Eight: نور خورشید

By the time twenty-four hours have passed, Emory wonders if it’s possible for a simple injection to raise her body temperature permanently. She doesn’t think she has a fever, as much as she can tell that she’s just overly warm, and that the feeling is not going away.

It would be too much irony to be desperate enough to take a strange doctor’s injection and discover that the powers she develops from them are fire-based, something that will do basically nothing if the goal is to use them to escape. By the time she could burn her way through the metal doors that keep them imprisoned, the cave temperature would be so high they’d probably be baked alive.

She has kept to herself, away from both Yinsen and Tony, since the big screaming fight that she’d had with Stark. Emory hadn’t really meant to accuse him of making callous decisions to kill civilians, but his sanctimonious comment about making life or death decisions had infuriated her. Ever since then, he’s been silently welding, no backgammon with Yinsen, no easygoing conversations, no smiling.

It’s only been a day, and Emory really misses his smile. The kind of missing that makes a bit of an ache.

She doesn’t even really miss Rory’s smile like that, and they’ve been friends for over ten years. Then again, she doesn’t have any feelings for Rory, and Emory’s got to admit, she’s starting to feel something for Tony. She feels like there are a thousand complimentary attributes about Tony painted on her insides, and just thinking his name calls them forth to flutter around, begging to be spoken and acknowledged. Handsome, witty, strong, vulnerable, heroic, sexy, gentle. Does he have any idea she has such a high opinion of him? Probably not after yesterday.

It is almost evening, and they haven’t come physically near each other. That risks her survival, given the expectations the terrorists have about his wants and needs, but she’d known Tony was a stubborn asshole before she ever knew what it was like to touch him. It will be up to her to go over there and initiate something. It will be up to her to bend.

It is always up to her, Emory knows. Even when she is being lectured on bending too far and too often.

Emory gets up and stretches her arms high above her head. Last night she’d taken one of the white shirts from the rag pile in a desperate attempt to cool off. It’s almost a crop top on her because the sleeves and everything ten inches from the neckline had been cut off to make a bandage for Tony’s chest during the surgery. In a bid for some kind of decency, she tied two little knots, one under each arm, so it didn’t gap so much that her bra could be seen if it shifted too far back. Stark’s dress pants are rolled up as far as they will go, which is about four inches above her knees. That measurement reminds her of having to measure her shorts and skirts in high school for ‘indecency.’

Incongruously, she laughs. She’d be kicked out of high school faster than you could say ‘in-school suspension’ if she’d ever tried to wear something like this to class.

When he sees her coming over, Tony turns his body and thus the spray of his welding torch. Getting anywhere within six feet of him would risk burns on any exposed skin-- and she’s basically all exposed skin, right now.

“Tony?”

“Busy,” he grunts.

The torch shuts off.

Tony doesn’t turn around. “I thought I bathed in the blood of innocents?”

“All evidence to the contrary, I know, but I kind of would like to stay alive, and kissing you is a perk to that end,” Emory says flippantly.

“Like you don’t know your power over women?”

“So demanding,” Emory says, but she’s already walking over.

Ordinarily, the two of them would be smiling, teasing, laughing at the ridiculousness of this back and forth, but thanks to the gravity of what happened the day before, they’re both straight-faced and serious. The flirting that Tony does as easy as breathing seems so much more impactful when he’s not softening it with smiles and humor. Emory feels like the constant heat she’s dealt with over the past day is nothing compared to the flames of anticipation in her bloodstream now.

When she’s about six feet away, he shoves both the section of armor he was working on and the disconnected welding torch across the table so they’re out of the way, his expression still serious, brown eyes dark and intent as he looks at her.

“Sit.”

Emory would have preferred he help her up, but instead, she has to half jump onto the table, which makes her breasts bounce.

“You made me do that on purpose,” she says, crossing her arms against her chest, accentuating the way they strain against the material.

“Mm hmm,” he says. “I bet you wouldn’t even be wearing that if you knew how easily I can see that you’re wearing a red bra. Which, let me tell you, I heartily approve of. Black outfit with a hidden red bra? You sure you weren’t trying to show off a little for Rory’s friend?”

Emory is immediately furious, all anticipation and excitement spiraling away to be replaced by genuine hurt feelings. “I don’t have to take that kind of shit from you, you’re not my boss.” She hops down.

“Yes! There, see?” he says, clapping. “Not a doormat.”

“You don’t have to imply I’m maybe trying to steal Rory’s boyfriend in order to ‘bolster my confidence,’ jerk!” Emory can’t believe he’s looking at her with any kind of surprise on his face.

“What’s supposed to happen is, you refute the thing that isn’t true, you get mad because you’re better than that, and then you’re glad because you stood up for yourself.”

She glares up at him. “You really think you were trying to do me a favor there?”

“Yes! I was just going for authenticity, with the red bra thing.” He pushes the goggles farther up into his messy hair.

“Because women only wear colored bras for men, not for their own edification?”

“It’s possible that my experience on the matter is… skewed by confirmation bias?” he says, clearly choosing his words very, very carefully.

“I like this bra. It makes me feel beau-- Pretty. It makes me feel pretty.” Emory flushes, hating that her insecurities are on display in front of this man in particular. “You can really see the bra through this shirt?” she asks in an embarrassed whisper.

“Just the edges, where the fabric is… particularly stressed. Here,” Tony reaches out and traces a line unerringly across the edge of the cup, which because of the cut of the bra and the way it’s designed to highlight cleavage, dips down in the front. Emory feels her nipples immediately harden, and remembers her thought about his hands being dirty.

“You might as well draw a blueprint on the fabric, Stark,” she says sarcastically, gesturing to the dirty line he’d traced across her white shirt.

“Well, if that’s the case--”

Tony’s lip curls up into a predatory smile as he brazenly cups her breast with one hand, stroking across her nipple through the fabric with his thumb, spreading the dust and dirt just as she’d suggested. The undeniably sensual act jumps the line from parking in the ballpark lot straight to first base, but Emory feels like it’s a triumph for her home team, it feels so good, even if it does make her catch her breath with how shocking it is.

“You should be slapping me by now,” Tony says, leaning over to whisper the words into her hair.

Emory’s smile has a vicious edge. “I figured the knee to the groin would be much more--”

He’s backing away before she even finishes the sentence. Tony shakes his head at her, his hand positioned not unlike it had been on her body, but clearly in surrender and placation, now. Then he straightens, tipping his head to the side and frowning.

“You really should have slapped me. That wasn’t the first time you were in that position, was it?” he asks, all teasing gone. In place of the sexual tension is a different kind of tension, one where he’s upset on her behalf.

“I think I’m going to have to wash this if I ever want to wear it again, it’s kind of suggestive right now,” Emory says, looking down. She’s trying to ignore what he said. He’s right, but she doesn’t feel like thinking about that right now.

“Emory.”

“Yes. Big boobed consolation prize. Kind of a downer when she says no all the time. Moving on?”

“I’m sorry. I should have gotten more of an indication from you that I could touch you like that,” Tony says, his face pale, jaw rigid.

“The part where I’ll get taken out and shot if you don’t seem taken with me seems like consent to me?” she says, gathering up her hair and lifting it off of her neck. The heat of embarrassment so soon after being sexually keyed up is adding to the pre-existing heat from whatever the serum is doing to her, and she’s roasting, now.

“It isn’t.”

“Tony--”

“I’m not like that. That’s not how I behave at parties, with strange women, with familiar women. I want you to know that,” he says, stepping forward, letting his hand drop. He looks like he really cares whether she would make that assumption about him, and it’s touching in a really strange way.

“Don’t worry, I assumed you would never have to. I figured that women were usually all over you to the point where consent was never an issue,” she says.

Tony frowns and comes over, reaching out to touch the back of his hand to her forehead. “You’re too warm.” He takes off the leather jacket he is wearing, revealing the black shirt with the circular glow at his chest, and then tries again. His frown deepens.

“Yeah,” she admits. “Starting to be a bit scared.”

“Well, we can at least try to keep you from doing a Joan of Arc from the inside out. Come with me.”

He takes her over to the water barrel, scooping out some water with one of the metal cups. Then, with two fingers dipped into the cool water, refreshing their wetness often, he paints wide swipes onto the back of her neck, behind her ears, at her wrists, behind her knees, and at her ankles, all while Emory stands there in utter amazement and watches him. This man is one of the most wealthy in the world, and he’s crouched down to help mitigate the side effects of her stupid choices?

“Wow, that really helps,” she admits after he backs up and they stand looking at each other for a full minute.

“It would probably be even more effective if you were naked, and I could draw little wet hieroglyphs all over you, but then again, I shouldn’t have said that out loud, not after the conversation we just had,” Tony says, seamlessly transitioning from suggestive to apologetic.

“How about I give you permission to touch me and kiss me without worrying that you’re sexually harassing me, within reason?” Emory blurts out, fighting the image he’s just conjured up in her already overwrought brain.

Instead of answering right away, Tony slips his hands into his pockets and walks slowly over to her, his gaze fixed on the floor. When he stops just a few inches away and looks at her, his expression is nearly glowing, and Emory bites her lip. He’s pleased. She’s pretty sure he’s trying to repress it or hide it from her. It’s arresting, complimentary, exciting.

“I’d like that,” he finally says, and his studied indifference is transparently false. “With reciprocal permissions, of course,” he adds, an impish expression of challenge in his eyes.

Emory’s stressed out, and the roller coaster of the past day has completely fucked up her priorities and her restraint. If she’d just slapped him, ten minutes ago, would they be sharing this moment? How does a person change away from being a spoiled, somewhat sexist jerk, if not like this?

“Well,” she says, reaching out to trace the edges of the device at his chest with a light fingertip. “You did call me Joan of Arc.” Then Emory tangles her fingers into his neckline and tugs, pulling him down so she can lift up on her toes to kiss him.

He evades her just long enough to say, “That was atrocious. I’m going to draw up an NDA that says you’re completely disallowed from ever saying that again.” Then he captures her lips, scraping his teeth against her lower lip to soothe the sting with his tongue. Emory holds herself up after that with sheer stubbornness and a death grip on his shirt. When the kiss ends, she has to compose herself with much the same pretence of indifference as he’d shown earlier.

“Contracts require consideration, Mr. big-shot businessman,” she tells him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to change my shirt, my friend with benefits got it all dirty.”

Walking away from him after saying that feels like it requires summoning the sum total of all the confidence she’d ever exhibited.

Emory spent the whole week after the shot overly warm and uncomfortable, and nothing Tony could think of to do really helped more than putting water on her pulse points. Yinsen remained over by his cot and ate the food that Tony made when Emory brought it over to him, staying silent and keeping to himself until the fourth day. That was the first day the interpreter could dress fully in his characteristic suit, and Tony could understand that there was something symbolic in that, something the man considered protective. The previous day, Tony had seen him attempt to pull the undershirt over his injured nose, and stop when it seemed to be too painful.

It hadn’t occurred to Tony that maybe Yinsen was always on guard, that his suit was his own kind of armor. It was something familiar, yes, but also defensive, in a way. They had all settled into a kind of routine in the cave over the three or so weeks they’d been imprisoned. Tony’s routine is, of course, nothing like how he behaves at home, but he at least has things that make him feel like himself-- something to build, the tools to do so, or the raw materials to create a reasonable facsimile. Emory sings and does vocal exercises, and the amount of time she spends just sitting and thinking is somewhat impressive to Tony. Recently, she’d found a notebook among the supplies he’d been given to build the Jerico, and she’s been writing in it.

But Yinsen has never settled, and Tony just… hadn’t noticed until now. Ordinarily, someone else’s uncomfortability wouldn’t feel like his responsibility, and it galls him to feel culpable now, but for some reason, he does. It’s probably because, despite how furious Tony is about the serum, Yinsen is clearly more ally than enemy, and not just because he’d saved Tony’s life. Yinsen knows that no Jerico missile is being built, and hasn’t revealed that to their captors. Yinsen knows that Tony and Emory aren’t actually sexually involved, despite what the terrorists believe. Yinsen hasn’t once complained, for fuck’s sake (though, his passive-aggressive comments are biting if you catch them, and Tony totally respects that).

It’s with this understanding that Tony watches the older man sit Emory down on his cot for the second injection. The time to stop this from happening was a week ago, he knows. He doesn’t like it, but Tony doesn’t do anything to prevent it.

He does stop welding to watch, though.

“The warmth you report feeling is good. Shows it has been working,” Yinsen says to her as he sets up to inject the second shot in her right arm.

“It certainly made me worry I would develop some sort of weird flame powers!” Emory laughs nervously. “God, I don’t know what I was thinking,” she whispers, suddenly serious.

“I understand. I spent most of this week regretting my choices. Not for safety reasons, I did much research into the scientist I purchased this from, since it was for my son,” Yinsen says. “The man was not particularly ethical, but a genius, yes.” He injects the needle mid-conversation, which startles Emory, but it’s better than last time, at least. “I do not enjoy uncertainty. It did not occur to me that it would be so difficult to watch your body cope with what it must now go through. It would have been a thousand times worse, to watch Hamid-- Well. It is done.”

“You miss your family,” Emory says. She’d initially meant to ask, but then felt the stupidity of such a question, and altered it into a statement.

“I do. But I will see them, when I leave here,” Yinsen says confidently. “You should go lay in your cot, I think.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me about what is meant to happen? What you hoped would happen, for Hamid?” she asks, standing and turning to look at him.

“Here,” Yinsen says, pulling a square of ripped paper from his vest pocket. “My address. When you leave here, perhaps you can visit. There was a whole folder, orange, filled with pictures and descriptions from the scientist I bought this from. It was just the vagaries of fate that led me to set it in the file cabinet before I was taken.”

On the paper is an address, the notation foreign, though she does recognize what it’s meant to be. With nowhere else to put it, knowing the terrorists have plans to replace her clothing, Emory nods, holds it to her chest, and heads to her cot. Once there, she tucks the paper in her bra.

“You doing okay there, Pincushion?” Tony calls out.

His flippant reference to something that he’d punched Yinsen over and yelled at her about just seven days before seems like such an obvious coping mechanism that Emory laughs. She’d never thought of Tony Stark as someone she’d enjoy having around until she was trapped in a terrorist cave with him, but the idea that that was hardly the strangest thing she was going through in the last ten minutes was what had her reeling.

“I’ll just be happy if my arm doesn’t turn gangrenous and fall off,” Emory tells Tony.

“It won’t, if you spend every waking moment focusing on developing healing powers! Get to it!” he says, pretending to be exasperated.

“That wouldn’t actually work, would it?” she asks Yinsen, across the cave.

“No, I do not believe so,” is the reply. “The evidence provided was that of a young man who became incredibly strong, and an elderly woman who was attempting to develop the ability to self heal. She instead became capable of influencing the life cycles of plants, accelerating them. Before her death a few years later she revitalized the agriculture of her village.”

“So she could turn out to be able to control mineral deposits on the moon, and we’d never find out? Great serum,” Tony snarks.

“You should be nicer to me. Seems like mind control isn’t completely off the table, and I’m just mean enough to do it in a way you’d never figure out,” Emory tells him. She yawns. “Okay, if I don’t make it, Scarecrow, you’ll take care of Tin Man, won’t you?”

The exhaustion she’s experiencing is actually a lot stronger than she’d expected. Even though she isn’t in the ideal comfortable position, Emory feels sleep overtaking her as soon as she lays her head down on her pillow, the sounds of Tony’s laughter acting like a strangely comforting lullabye.

Next chapter, Emory wakes up after days of being out cold, and Tony suggests a theory on what powers she may have developed

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