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totowlff · 8 months

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chapter one — initial orientation

➝ toto wolff is a skeptic about love. after several failed dates, he definitely doesn't want to know anything about relationships anymore. however, when a friend bridges the gap between him and one of his more mysterious employees, he decides to try again. little does he know that woman is taking him back to the classroom.

➝ word count: 4,2k

➝ warnings: mentions of smut, bdsm dynamics and bondage

➝ author’s note: an experimental project, without a defined number of chapters and working from another point of view. it will probably be the dirtiest thing i will write on this blog. enjoy.

As he drove through the narrow streets of South Kensington, Toto felt butterflies in his stomach. It was almost childish, he thought, to feel that way at his age at the prospect of a date, but he couldn’t help it.

The initial idea had not been his, quite the opposite. He had reached a point of complete skepticism towards love and that must have been visible that night in Porto Cervo. Sitting at a table facing the Mediterranean, he couldn't care less about the stunning sunset that painted the sky pink and orange. His eyes were fixed on the couple who were next to him, holding hands, enjoying the scenery.

— Are you okay, Toto? — someone asked next to him.He turned his head and saw Stefano Domenicali setting down his gin and tonic.

— Yes, yes, I’m fine.

— You seem distant.

— I'm just thinking.

The man smiled.

— Would you mind sharing your thoughts?

Toto snorted, running a hand through his hair.

— It's not important.

— I think it is, considering I was talking for five minutes about next year's calendar issues and you just completely ignored me.

— What do you want me to say, Stefano? — Toto said, watching the pieces of lemon and ice floating in his glass of Coca-Cola — I can't make you or Mohamed change your minds about the 23 races.

—But you weren't thinking about that, were you?

— No.

— So, what was it?

Toto stared at his friend for long seconds before letting out another sigh.

— I was thinking about love.

— Are you in love, Toto? — Stefano asked, with a suggestive smile on his face.

— No, no — he replied, shaking his head — Actually, that’s the problem. It’s frustrating.

The man in front of him raised an eyebrow.

— Frustrated? How can a guy like you be frustrated?

— Let's say that my current prospects are dim.

— I thought you were a hit with women after Netflix came along — Stefano said — At least that's what it seems like on social media.

Toto chuckled dejectedly, picking up his glass.

— Don't believe everything you see on the internet, Stefano — he said, before taking a sip — Actually, things have been downright pathetic lately.

— Pathetic?

— On the last date I went to, the woman spent half an hour discussing how she knew that the belonging to the woman a table over wasn't a real Birkin. All I had asked was if she liked the place I had chosen for our dinner.

Stefano laughed, his hand on the base of his gin and tonic glass.

— And because of one bad date, you think your love life is pathetic?

— Well, almost every date I've had since the divorce has been pathetic. If they're not busy judging bags, they're talking about their latest purchases at the Duomo in Milan or how their ex-husbands left them for younger girls.

— On the first date? — Stefano asked — Jesus, Toto...

— And with work, it became even more complicated to fit everything together. Let's face it, no woman wants a partner who spends so much time away from home. They want a guy who stays by their side, who supports them, who pays attention to them, and I can’t always be that person.

— It's clear that you're a supportive and caring guy. If not, you wouldn't have stayed until the end of those horrible encounters of yours.

— But… That’s not what I want out of a relationship, you know?

— And what do you want?

Toto pursed his lips.

—That's a difficult question...

— Only if you don't know what you're looking for. And, in these cases, you need one of those women who are — he hesitated for a few seconds, thoughtfully — Viola says that all the time, what is it called?

— Cultured? Intelligent? Sincere?

— A girlboss, I think that's how they say it in English.

— But what the hell does that mean?

— An independent woman, who has her own career and her own success. A woman who won't need your name or her money for anything, because she has it all due to her effort. Someone who doesn’t need you to take care of her all the time. A powerful, confident woman. Just like you’re a powerful, confident man.

— I'm not powerful, Stefano.

— Toto, let's face it, things only happen inside the paddock if you want them to. You have three client teams, influence over which drivers get seats, who gets in and who gets out of the grid. You helped put Vowles in charge at Williams...

— He did that on his own merit, I didn’t…

— It doesn't matter, working with you made it so that he stood out. Everything you touch turns to gold and you need someone just like you.

Toto rolled his eyes.

— And where do you think I’ll find this person?

— At my office in London — his friend said, as he took his phone out of his pocket. After a few taps on the screen, he turned the screen towards him, with a small smile on his face.

The image of a woman illuminated the screen. She had short black hair with straight bangs, as well as greenish eyes marked by makeup and full lips. Wearing a black blazer, the only point of color in the image were the red nails on the hand holding the phone, revealing that it was a photo taken in a mirror.

— Who is this? — Toto asked softly, his skin suddenly feeling very hot.

— Ava Randall, part of the Formula One Management’s board of directors.

He blinked, somewhat incredulously. How had he not noticed that woman walking through the paddock before?

— She — Toto stammered, without looking away from the woman's serious, almost seductive expression. He couldn't stop thinking about what her voice would be like, what her smile would be like, what her touch would be like.

— Single, no children, a successful career established in the same field as you. She's what you need, Toto.

— Stefano…

— I can talk to her and give her your contact details so you can talk and arrange a date — he said — What do you think?

Toto pressed his lips into a thin line.

— Do you think she would go out with me?

— You'll only know if you let me give her her number.

“Well, it doesn't hurt to try”, he thought that night.

It was surprising when he got a message from an unknown number. The brunette woman smiling in the profile photo made Toto's heart sped up while his mind searched for the right response.

A seemingly innocent conversation soon turned into an invitation to dinner at a quiet restaurant when he was back in London. She was dressed very elegantly, and Toto couldn't take his eyes off her for even a second. He wanted to find out everything he could about her.

Ava was a lawyer, graduated from University of Cambridge, and worked for some time in an office in London until she was hired to join McLaren's defense team during the investigation of Ferrari documents being leaked to McLaren team personnel. Getting closer to the world of Formula 1 made her decide to move into the sports field, getting a position on the legal team at Formula One Management.

— And, as soon as he was appointed as CEO of F1, Stefano asked me to join the board of directors. He said that even though we were on opposite sides during Spygate, he had been impressed with my work.

— And, if I may say so, I am too, Ava — Toto said, smiling.

The night ended with the promise of another date, which took place in Abu Dhabi, on the last weekend of the race. At that point, he knew that Ava was completely different from the other women. She had a powerful aura, almost as if she made time stop every time in every room she walked into. The serious look and the restrained smile seemed like an invitation to delve even deeper into that woman, to discover even more about her and, in a way, to allow himself to be discovered.

And it was with that intention he’d ended up in front of an elegant red brick building in Chelsea. Taking a last look at his hair, Toto parked his car and started walking indirection of the building's entrance before paging her apartment on the intercom.

As he stared at his reflection in the elevator’s polished metal interior, he thought about how Ava would have been dressed and whether she had cooked for them. “Maybe she ordered something, it's easier”, Toto thought, as he entered the corridor that led to her sixth floor apartment. It didn’t matter what they would be eating. What mattered was being with her, listening to her stories and becoming more and more enchanted by her.

Few seconds passed between the moment he pressed the doorbell and the moment the door opened, revealing Ava and her charming smile.

— Good evening, Toto — she greeted him, leaning against the doorframe. Wearing a white cashmere dress that left her shoulders exposed and a delicate necklace with a yin-yang-like symbol around her neck, she looked completely at ease — How are you?

— I’m well, and you?

— Everything is perfect.

Opening the door wider, she nodded for him to come in, which he did with a shy smile on his face. After taking off his shoes and the coat he was wearing, placing them on one of the hooks hanging on the white wall, he followed her through the flat, trying not to seem too dazzled by the place.

However, the reality was that the apartment was gorgeous, with elegant and cozy decor in light wood. She led him down the hallway, past the living room until they reached the kitchen, also decorated in the same way. It didn't take long for his eyes to find the pots on the stove, as well as the wine and the two glasses carefully positioned on the dining table.

— Cooking, huh? — Toto asked, with a smile.

— I thought it would be nice to show you that I can cook — Ava replied.

— And what's on the menu for this evening?

— Spaghetti with Chicken Alfredo — she said, walking over to the stove — I know you’re selective with what you eat.

— You know I don't mind eating something different on special occasions.

Ava looked up at him, the corners of her lips turning up.

— This is a special occasion?

— Of course.

— Why?

— It's not every day I have dinner with someone like you.

— Like me? — she raised an eyebrow.

— You know… Special — Toto replied, in a low voice, feeling particularly proud of himself when she looked back at the pan in front of her, her cheeks slightly red. It was almost as if she was shy and not the incredibly confident woman who had caught his attention in their first phone messages.

After breaking the silence with a little joke, he offered to open the wine. While he poured the glasses, she drained the spaghetti and set it aside for when the sauce was ready. When Toto handed the wine to his hostess, she smiled.

— Thank you — Ava said, sipping the liquid with a curious gleam in her eyes.

Dinner was leisurely, the delicious food pairing well with the good win and their shared laughter over a few anecdotes from the days when the seat in front of him on the private jet was occupied by the same person on every flight. Niki had always been his main encourager in his search for a new love, or at least for a casual fuck, after all, "he had needs that couldn't be solved with punches on the table". Toto always tried to get him to change the subject, but it was almost impossible, especially when the former driver started talking about his adventures after Marlene's divorce.

“Niki would like her”, he thought to himself, watching as Ava took another bite of chicken, smiling a little as she realized Toto was looking at her.

— Everything’s good? — she asked, after swallowing.

— Yeah. I was just thinking about something a friend of mine said...

— About me?

— About relationships.

She placed the cutlery on the plate, curiosity making her eyes sparkle.

— Would you mind sharing?

Toto smiled.

— Well, like I told you, I've been single for a while. And this friend of mine said that I was only like this because I didn't use his approach.

— And what would that be?

— Don't talk too much, focus on the goal and achieve it — Toto said, making Ava laugh.

— Very pragmatic, isn’t he?

— It’s a very… Austrian way of looking at things.

— And you, as a good Austrian, share this vision?

He took a sip of wine.

— I prefer to take life a little slower. Besides, I think it's obvious that I talk too much.

Ava laughed again, throwing her head back, her neck with the golden necklace completely exposed. Something about that vision made him feel something warm run over his skin, while imagination made a less than innocent scene unfold in his mind. It was as if his own body was asking him to give in to his own desire and experience the taste of the soft and delicate skin of the woman in front of him.

And he was tempted to give in, his mouth suddenly dry and his face warm.

However, Toto just smiled.

After they finished eating, Ava invited him into the living room to continue their conversation. With the bottle of wine on the light wooden coffee table, they were sitting in front of the fireplace, which was crackling softly. Sipping the contents of the glasses slowly, the two chatted about trivialities, such as their plans for winter break.

Until all the wine he had consumed started to manifest itself in his bladder.

— Ava, where is the bathroom?

— In the hallway, on the left — she replied, extending her hand to take his glass — Feel free.

He got up and followed the direction Ava had pointed out. As he passed by the mirror in the apartment's hall and saw his messy hair, Toto couldn't help but think about what it would be like to feel her fingers sinking through his hair, pulling his head against her in a kiss filled with desire. “I definitely need to kiss this woman”, he thought to himself, grabbing the handle and opening the door.

However, after patting the wall for the switch and turning on the lights, Toto realized that it wasn't the bathroom.

Unlike the rest of the apartment, that room was not bright or light. The walls were painted in a mysterious shade of gray, which matched the tones of the blanket and pillows on the bed, which was large and had a particularly reinforced metal structure, with four columns forming a kind of frame over the mattress.

Walking slowly towards the bed, Toto knew he shouldn't be there, but at the same time, he wanted to stay there and try to figure out what the room was for.

It was as if he was discovering a secret side of Ava; a very different side from what she had presented until then. After a few seconds of wondering what the metal half-moons welded to the structure were for, he found the answer hanging on the wall, just above a black velvet chaise that was placed in the corner of the room.

It definitely wasn't what he expected from a woman like Ava.

On the hooks, there were ropes of different thicknesses, whips, paddles, what looked like a swing, and a feather duster.

“A fetish room?”, he asked himself, as he removed one of the ropes from the wall. Running his thumb along the fibers, Toto found that they were firm but soft, clearly made to bind a person. Giving it a tug to test its resistance, he felt somewhat perplexed by his own discovery, after all, Ava didn't seem like a woman who liked that kind of thing.

When Toto imagined himself with her in his arms, he saw an almost romantic scene. The bodies intertwined, the low moans, the lips parted, as if searching for each other in the haze of pleasure. He could feel her contract around him as her orgasm took over her, her green eyes rolling back as her muscles trembled.

— I think this is a little advanced for you — someone said behind him. With a start, Toto looked back, meeting the serious gaze of Ava, who was standing near the door.

— Yeah... Well — he stammered, a bit startled, as she dug something out of the closet behind her. After a few seconds, Ava walked towards him and took the ropes from his hands, placing two pieces of black satin in place.

— I think this is more of your speed.

Staring at the soft fabric, Toto felt his stomach turn with embarrassment. He definitely shouldn't be there, snooping around Ava's things. However, his natural curiosity had overcome any sense of common sense, which had already been diminished by the wine.

— What are they?

— Those are satin sashes. They’re softer, better for beginners.

— I mean — he hesitated — These things, this place...

Ava smiled a little.

— I think you already know, don't you?

Toto looked up at her, almost shyly.

— Uh… Do you like being tied up?

The suggestion made Ava laugh, shaking her head.

— No, Toto — she replied, in a low voice — I like doing the tying.

Toto stared at her in silence, his heart beating heavily. He knew that many people liked to tie up and even do other things with their partners during sex, even as a way to spice up the relationship. But he had never been in a relationship with someone who lived that lifestyle to the fullest.

Even Ava.

He thought about how innocent he had been to imagine that a woman like her would have a different posture in bed. Ava was intelligent, determined, powerful and, above all, she was aware of her own power, as shown by the way she walked around the paddock with well-fitted blazers in sober colors. And, by God, that was sexy.

— I know what you're thinking, Toto — she said, taking the hand that held the satin sash — How is it possible for a woman to dominate a man? Honestly, it’s one of my favorite questions to answer.

With his eyes fixed on her, Toto watched as Ava gently opened his hands, her fingers sliding across his skin and igniting a flame inside his chest.

— The fun of the game of domination and submission is precisely the possibility of assuming different roles in the sexual dynamics. It's not limiting yourself to the vision others have of you and expressing your most intimate desires in a safe and controlled context — she continued, removing the satin sash from his hand — And that's why I entered this world.

— Do you… Um, spank? — Toto asked softly, feeling his mouth dry.

— Yes, when it is necessary to bring my partner to submission — Ava replied, as she walked past him, still holding his hand — And if it's within my partner's limits. In the end, what matters inside this room is not pain or power. It's trust. The trust my partner has to surrender to my control.

Looking at their hands, Toto felt his entire body tingle.

— Control…

— Yes. Control. I control the scenario, the scenes, the objects that will be used, everything to bring pleasure to my partner — she said, somewhere behind him — That's what being a domme is, Toto.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he could feel his own pulse roaring in his ears as Ava's fingers slid across his shoulders.

— Do you know… Men that… Like that? — Toto finally managed to ask, his eyes searching Ava's face, whose lips were curved in a deliciously suggestive smile.

— Submissive men? Yes — Ava replied softly — In fact, you'd be surprised to know how many rich, powerful men find pleasure in not having any power in the bedroom.

The last sentence made Toto think of Stefano's words during dinner in Porto Cervo, about him being a powerful man. Although he ignored that rosy view of his own work, there was a grain of truth in that statement; he actually had power within that world, even if he hadn't worked for it but only for the team in which he had shares. It was precisely what made his role not just a job, but a burden.

It was difficult to deal with the attention, the spotlight, the fans, the demands. Despite being intoxicating, the power he held was stressful, not to mention toxic. And there were days when what Toto wanted most was fresh air.

With his eyes locked on Ava's, he was sure that, finally, he could breathe.

Bringing one of her hands to his face, she slowly approached him. The touch between their lips was careful, almost as if it could break them into thousands of pieces inside that room. Ava's perfume, with its floral and musky notes, enveloped him like a hug that Toto never wanted to leave. However, when he tried to reciprocate, his arms didn't respond, something soft holding his wrists together.

The discovery made him move his face away from hers, scared.

— I'm tied up — Toto said, as he moved his wrists, making Ava smile.

— No, you're not — she said — It's a simple knot, just push your wrists outward at the same time, and it will come loose.

As he repeated her instructions, the satin band gave way, freeing his wrists. As he brought them forward, he rubbed his skin with his hands, a little embarrassed at having reacted so abruptly to what she had done. But, it wasn’t like he could say he didn’t enjoy the adrenaline rush.

— Ava? — Toto said softly, looking up tentatively at her.

— Yes?

Something in the back of his mind asked him to give in to his own desire, which tingled across his skin in a stubborn, not to say insistent, way. Toto wanted that woman no matter what, even on her terms.

— Can you tell me where the bathroom is?

Ava smiled, before leading him out of the room and directing him to the right door inside the apartment. As he closed himself inside the cubicle, Toto let out a heavy sigh, staring at his own reflection in the mirror. His face was red and his breathing was heavy. His pants felt too tight and his shirt rubbed uncomfortably against his skin.

He didn't expect to react like this to his discovery about Ava. Not that she didn't provoke desire in him, quite the opposite. But there was something about the idea of allowing her to take control of his pleasure that made something below his belly button tingle and his heart beat faster.

What if he liked it?

What if he got hurt?

What if she made him feel good?

What if she scared him?

What if it was the best experience of his life?

What if it was the most traumatic experience of his life?

Shaking his head, Toto looked back at the sink, trying to focus on his own breathing and not the heat he was feeling. Ava hadn't extended any invitation to dominate him, but the knot with the satin sash had been enough for a seed to be planted in his mind. And, incredible as it seemed, it was already sprouting.

After washing his hands and face, he returned to the living room in silence, finding Ava sitting on the couch, staring at her own glass of wine. Trying to hide the strange silence, he looked at his watch to find the time.

— Well, I think it's time for me to go home.

She got up from the sofa with the glass still in her hand, a shy smile on her face.

— Are you sure? We haven't finished the wine yet.

Toto looked at his glass, which still had some of the golden liquid in the bottom. He was tempted to stay and finish the bottle with Ava, but something told him it was time to stop. He needed to process that night with a clear head.

— Yeah. Oxford is a bit far and I don't want to get home too late.

As he said that, Ava's expression seemed to lose its shine, even though there was still a cordial smile on her lips. Leaving the glass on the coffee table, she walked him to the door, one hand resting on his lower back, the touch sending a warm wave through Toto's body.

— Well, I thank you for accepting my invitation. It was a great dinner — she said, opening the apartment door while he put on his coat and shoes.

— I need to thank you, you are a great cook.

They stared at each other for a few seconds in silence. “Do I talk about that?”, Toto wondered.

— So, I'll see you in the paddock?

— Oh, yeah. Absolutely — he replied, forcing a smile — See you later, Ava.

— See you — she said softly, as Toto walked past her and left the apartment, his heart beating heavy in his chest. When he heard the door close behind him, he let out a long sigh, as if he was finally reaching the surface after a deep dive into some wreck area, as he liked to do when he was in Porto Cervo.

However, contrary to what he imagined, he didn't want to get on the boat and go back to the hotel, quite the opposite. Toto has never wanted so much to dive back in to explore Ava's depths, to uncover what was behind those well-cut blazers and flawless makeup.

He just didn't know if he had the breath for it.

#toto wolff #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #toto wolff x oc #formula 1 x oc #formula one x oc #f1 x oc #toto wolff smut #liowlff

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littlemissaddict · 1 year

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So nothing I post has been showing up in the tags lately, I've contacted tumblr but no ones gotten back to me so this is just an experimental Steve blurb to see if it's working again...

Steve could tell as soon as he entered the room that something was up, he'd just come home after finishing the closing shift at Family Video, after dropping Robin back off at home because God knows he's not going to let her walk home alone especially after the last time someone went home alone after dark.

Standing at the foot of the bed he took in her sleeping form curled up into a ball on top of the sheets. She was in her pyjamas so that meant she'd started getting ready for bed at least but somewhere between that and getting into bed something had stopped her. He wondered if she'd tried to wait up for him even though she'd been tired after her own working day and eventually fell asleep, that would be the most likely option but then he spotted the fuzzy worn teddy bear that she held tight in her arms. He could just about make out her childhood bear from where it was squashed against her chest and it wasn't surprising to him that she still had it, no that he knew, it was more the fact that she was sleeping with it which was only something she did when she needed comfort.

He could only wonder what had happened, though he guessed it must have been something to do with work and he wishes he'd been home for her so that it would have been him holding her, comforting her instead of the bear. Though it wouldn't do to dwell on the fact that he wasn't there, he reminded himself as he stripped out of his clothes, moving to climb into bed until he remembered that she wasn't covered up. Knowing how she would usually wrap herself up like a burrito in the blankets he discarded during the night, he went in search of a blanket, rummaging through the closet until he came across the warmest looking one he could find which he dropped over her sleeping figure before finally climbing into bed.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, he shuffled closer to her so that his front was pressed against her back and slowly slipped and arm across her waist, he fingers brushing against her arms as he did so and he could feel the goosebumps on her skin which made him glad that he thought about the blanket when he did otherwise she'd have probably awoken a few hours later very cold and that wouldn't have helped her mood. Dipping his head down, he pressed a kiss onto the back of her neck whispering how much he loved her even though he knew she wouldn't be able to hear him but the response of her body subconsciously shifting back to be closer to him made he smile anyway as he closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him with a promise of doing anything he could in the morning to make her feel better.

#steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

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payeehay · 1 year

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In short, going into the unfinished portal had been a bad idea.

Danny thinks he's dead, now? He can't be sure, but he has no other way to explain the way that when his friends had brought him over to the mirror after he stumbled out of the glowing green expanse, there was nothing but a cottonball of white hair and a literal skull grinning grotesquely back at him.

Putting a shaky hand to his face, he'd realized that there was flesh there, it was just... invisible.

And so, one mental breakdown, an outfit change, a hairdye job, and an hour in front of sam's makeup mirror later, he was looking normal enough to go to school the next day.

Before they had left her house, she had warned him that only some of his makeup was waterproof, told him not to sweat too much, or to get it wet.

Which made his current situation a problem.

Dash steered him roughly out of the locker room toward the bathroom stalls, Kwan and Tony blocking his hopes of escape.

Fuck. He couldn't let them get his face wet.

"Hey! Why don't you hit me? You like hitting me, right?" he tried.

Dash grinned. "Good idea!" He stopped long enough to sock Danny in the stomach, before shoving him into the stall.

He struggled, but wasn't able to stop Dash from shoving his face right in the toilet.

30 seconds later, he was coughing and rubbing at his eyes while the jocks laughed.

Until they stopped laughing, one by one, peering closely at Danny. "Hey Fenton, what's wrong with your face?" Kwan asked.

Double fuck. He glanced down at his gloved hands, saw the watery foundation smeared across them. "Uh," he schooled his face, or however much was left of it, "Nothing. What's wrong with your face?"

Dash squinted at him. "No, it's- are you wearing makeup?"

"No," Danny scoffed. "I'm a guy, remember?"

"He is!" Tony exclaimed, pulling him out of the stall and into the lights.

Danny caught himself in one of the mirrors and froze. His skin looked translucent, blotches of white and black showing through.

He tried to run, was caught by the arms by Kwan and Tony, and put up a token struggle, already knowing they had him held fast.

He struggled in earnest when he saw Dash coming at him with a wet paper towel.

"No! You don't want to-"

Dash ran it down his cheek, and Danny froze as dash's brows scrunched together. "What the fuck?" he asked curiously.

Another couple of strokes, and Danny could see bone, teeth, dark hollows in the mirror. Dash looked legitimately unnerved. "What the fuck, Fenton??" he asked again. "Where's your skin??"

Danny thought quickly. "Flesh-eating virus. It's contagious, by the way."

The three football players glanced at each other. "No..." Dash disagreed. "Something weird's going on here." He experimentally poked Danny's face, right where he'd wiped it clean, and both boys cringed. "I'll ask one more time, Fenton," he said, trying to sound intimidating. "What the fuck?"

Danny stared him down, studying him. Finally, he sighed. There was no good answer to this. "I don't know, okay? Something weird happened last night and I'm trying to hide it until I can at least figure out what the hell it was, so can I please go get my makeup and fix... this??" he asked, gesturing at his face. He gave another pull on his arms, and Kwan let go, soon followed by Tony.

Danny almost turned and ran right then, but Kwan asked, voice barely above a whisper, "Are you dead??"

Danny groaned. "I don't know! Can I please go now?"

The jocks glanced at each other again, and Dash looked almost scared. "You're a freak, Fenturd." He pushed past Danny and out toward the lockers, turned, pointed back at him. "Keep your freak shit away from me." Kwan and Tony nodded and followed him, leaving Danny gratefully alone.

When his classmates teased him the next day for wearing makeup, he could only thank whatever gods may be out there that that was all they were saying about him.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dash baxter #kwan #my writing #my dumb posts #if i had a nickel for every time I've written about danny wearing makeup I'd have two nickels #which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

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electrasev5nwrites · 9 months

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Ninja Daily: AIC 1

It would have been really fucking cool to use Hiraishin seals to bring objects to her instead of traveling to objects. Aiko kept that thought in mind, and not how phenomenally the experiment had failed.

'Fuck if I know why I ended up where I did. Fucking random. Shouldn't I have ended up near a seal?'

There was exactly no chance that Aiko had ever left a seal in Mizugakure.

"Bloodline user!"

Especially not, you know, in the reign of Yagura. Who was giving her an unpleasant look, and leaping backwards as his guards moved forward with blood in their eyes.

At least it wasn't her first time travel mishap. She quickly focused on the important part.

"I was not!" Aiko retorted, ducking under a machete that should have taken off her head. It made a slicing sound when it passed over.

Unfair. What kind of idiot assumed a bloodline was responsible when someone appeared out of the shadows-

Oh. Shit.

She cheesed it, sprinting past the surprised shouts and reflexive projectiles. Aiko went up a building face, scorching the stone facing and accidentally blowing chips off with too much chakra. At least three Mist-nin followed with more grace.

'Did I just start the Bloodline Purge?' she wondered in the part of her head that wasn't going 'oh shit oh shit oh shit when the hell am I?' because history had never been her strong suit.

That would be embarrassing. But at least it wasn't boring…

Luckily or not, a few days later Aiko managed to track down a newspaper that confirmed she should find a textbook when she went home.

'So how long do I have to wait until Mei-nee-chan kills Yagura and I can have a friend with an important hat?'

Ugh. Aiko turned the newspaper to the front page to glare accusatively at the date again. The man selling the papers cleared his throat.

"Have a cold?" she asked, not really caring.

'I'm eleven at this point. Or…' Aiko looked down to confirm that her body was very much that of an adult, as it should be. 'Well. One of me is eleven.'

It'd be a while until that shitty situation was resolved in Mizu. Not that it was like, Aiko's problem or anything. She didn't care.

Aiko scowled, crumpling the newspaper in disgust and stomping off.

Even in her short-circuited confusion, Aiko had had enough sense to travel west. She'd lost her pursuers when she'd vaulted over the village wall and blown up a cart full of goji berries. She had only felt a little sorry for the tradesperson she'd probably bankrupted, because it had been pretty funny.

She'd had to switch to traveling over the water after only an hour of running after losing her pursuers, at which point she'd relaxed the pace down to a ground-eating lope. Island nations were funny that way. Nothing like Konoha.

'Is that where I should be going?'

Aiko sighed and ran her hands through her hair, fingers catching first on a knot and then the tangled mess that had been a braid.

First of all, she should find somewhere to stay for the night and get cleaned up. She was attracting sideways looks. But she didn't have a change of clothes, damnit, and what she was wearing would not last well through repeated wear.

But come on, it was normal to do things like seal experimentation in one's pajamas. If it had worked, she would probably have at most endured the awkwardness of bringing Yamato to her kitchen along with the kunai in his possession. Instead, it had been like… like her sense of her seals had caught, stuttered, and then re-focused on nothing that she recognized. Like she was suddenly on the wrong radio frequency, tuning into someone else's conversation.

Instead, Aiko was wandering the business district of a smallish city two islands away from the capital of Mizugakure at twilight in puppy-patterned shorts and a wide-strapped tank top. At least she had real sandals on; through they were leather-bottomed strappy affairs and not shinobi grade equipment. She started to keep an eye out for a hotel to spend the night.

Wait. She didn't have any money with her.

Well, she could just go home and-

She couldn't. Not really. Her gut churned. At eleven, she was an unfriendly Chuunin with more arrogance than experience. Okay, even if she got past village security, and the Hokage believed her (okay, he probably would, since they had gone through this time travel thing before), what was she expecting? Who was going to leap to help her? Jiraiya could probably help her figure out what she'd done, but he wasn't in Konoha.

Figuring out what she'd done wouldn't get her back home, though. It might not even be possible. She couldn't sense her seals at all. Was she going to have to live out the next nine years until she was back where she was supposed to be?

That didn't quite make sense. She couldn't resume her own life, because she would already be living it.

'So… do I need to find a new life and live it?' Aiko wondered. 'Just… do whatever feels right and will keep me amused?'

Terrifying. Annoying. Also interesting.

The worst part was that no one knew who she was, and her hard-earned reputation was gone. The best part was that no one knew who she was, and she could do whatever the hell she wanted with no consequences whatsoever. Who was going to stop her, Tsunade?

She stopped smiling, because the expression had grown so wide that all her teeth were showing and a woman had just jerked her child out of Aiko's path with wide, appalled eyes.

'You know what would be really funny?'

Yes. Yes, she really did. Aiko took a moment to think it through, coming up with the vague notion of baffling and tormenting people she didn't like. If she went cross-continental and set up a skeleton of Hiraishin tags, it'd be a lot safer. She plotted out the easiest route to cover absentmindedly, jiggling open a third-floor hotel window and hoisting herself in. She showered first, using all the complimentary shampoo and conditioner. Aiko wrinkled her nose, but laid out the same outfit for the next day, and crawled into bed.

'Now that I know my tags are at risk if Obito grabs me through kamui, I just won't let that happen. If he moves toward me, I'll just up and go. It's not like he'll know who I am, or have the same interest in me.'

Aiko woke up in the dead of the night to go shopping. Whatever city she was in had a vibrant nightlife, but she actually seemed less out of place than she had during the day. Smiling, Aiko nodded at a group of drunks stumbling down the street.

'I should get more changes than I think I'll need. Nothing I can buy here will be the industrial, reinforced materials that I'm used to in Konoha.'

That didn't bother her, to be honest. That was what she'd made do with when she was running with Obito, and it wasn't like armor was integral to her fighting style.

When she found a likely looking boutique, Aiko slipped around to the alley and forced the back door open. The clothes she found were a little off-putting, truth be told. Civilian fashion in Mist nine years back had apparently tended toward pastels and very low necklines, cut in dramatic vees. They would look a lot better on soft, curvy civilian women than they would on her. She frowned at them. After a little digging, she found a less unnlikely blue top with a silvery modesty panel, and paired it with a green knee-length skirt. She changed right there on the sales floor, eagerly dropping her day-old pajamas. Aiko walked away from the dirty clothes, keeping an eye out for the next item on her list. She found a reasonably secure and chic pink backpack- a tiny purse sized thing with spindly straps, but at least it wouldn't flap around like a purse would when she ran.

At the counter, she found a pad of stationary and a pen. She took the whole thing, scribbling storage seals on the first pages and picking out spare outfits to tuck away. Her pajamas went in too, as did all but one of a packet of headbands and some scrunchies. Aiko took a moment to make a pouty face at her reflection on a mirror, taking care to make sure her hair fell nicely around her new accessory.

There was absolutely nothing useful in terms of footwear, unfortunately. Her sandals were drastically out of place, so she packed up and went on search of another, more promising store.

When she thought she had enough equipment (and it was a damn shame that she didn't have a single weapon of any sort, how annoying) Aiko hefted her little bag and the notepad inside. She set out, taking care to brush not one but three seals into the coastal city she'd ended up in. It seemed like a pretty safe little hideout, truth be told. Then she left over the water, headed for the mainland. She came ashore in Wave Country.

'Isn't this nostalgic?' Aiko tilted her head, slowing to a walk as she crossed a bridge. She was pulling her hair up into something neater to cope with the humidity and heat when she noticed the first thin, hungry-eyed civilian.

That was what she remembered. Hmm. Yes, she was only about a year away from when her team would swing by and kill Gato, wasn't she? He must be in his heyday. Curious, Aiko made a detour for the little town she remembered, bending to scoop up a rock, plant a seal on it, and then toss it into the underbrush.

The civilians were already starving, thin and desperate under the despotic reign of someone with no concept of ensuring a capable workforce. Aiko frowned, wondering why Gato was so incompetent. There wasn't really any point to brow-beating the civilians like this. If he was greedy, why wasn't he attempting to profit off of this? He was already the only game in town. He could offer jobs with low pay, stifle the competition, especially since there was currently no easy connection to the mainland, and make a helluva lot of money. He didn't even have to be hated to do it.

'I'll never understand some people.' Contemplative, Aiko perched on a tree and swung her legs. The town woke sluggishly. A few people kept chickens, and they were up at a decent time to take care of the poultry. Fishermen and women headed out next, craggy and sun-burnt people with scarred hands. And… that was it? She frowned. There should be kids heading to school, businesses opening, that kind of thing. But there just wasn't.

Boo. Maybe she should do something.

On the other hand, she wasn't interested in heroics, and they'd be saved in a year anyway. But jeeze, it seemed kind of bitchy to leave them to suffer for so long. Aiko frowned, trying to pick out why she was so reluctant to interfere. It wasn't like she cared about making sure the mission went as planned when her team came out, so that wasn't it. Was it? Not exactly.

'That's the first time they're really out of Konoha- the only location I can reasonably confirm. If I leave this situation fundamentally unchanged, that'll be my first opportunity to see familiar faces from Konoha.'

And maybe, if she were totally honest, she was a little interested in being scouted by Konoha. She wasn't a missing nin on anyone's books, so she wasn't a criminal. Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it. She'd stolen from other towns, but she wouldn't take from already starving mouths here.

She could just be a wandering shinobi- someone who'd picked up their trade from a village outsider. It was no crime to be taught by a missing nin, or a parent.

'And Konoha likes Uzumaki. I mean. The Sandaime just scooped Karin up like she was an extra tomato at the market or something.'

She felt cheered, for a moment. Then she realized-

'I don't actually have the traditional Uzumaki looks.'

Okay. When she stood between Naruto and Karin, it was obvious that she belonged. But on her own? Uzumaki wouldn't be the first thought.

Her hair was red, but not the iconic shade. Her face was too pointy to be the feminine ideal, yeah, but her features tended more toward the sharp eyes, brows, and thin lips of her dad and not the wide cheeks, pointed chin, and sharp-tipped nose of her mom.

'Well. I'm close enough. I have chakra chains and I know a lot of fuinjutsu. Anyone who's familiar with Uzumaki traits would put that together.'

That sounded like another reason to wait for team seven. Uzushiogakure had fallen long enough ago that there weren't many active ninja left from its heyday. Like, Tsunade was a bit young to have had much interaction, and that was a bad sign. But Kakashi had known Kushina. He'd clue in, if she was obvious enough.

'I don't know if it's a reason or a pretense, but that's what I'm going with.'

That did leave Aiko with plenty of time to kill. Sort of.

'How do I know when we're about to come? I'm not going to hang out and wait for a year.'

Not in this dingy little backwater, anyway. Besides, she had plans. She had people to pretend to meet for the first time, people to kill, and, uh, people to confuse. She was starting to notice a theme. Hmm.

'Is it possible that I'm just a really rude person?'

Maybe. Oh well. She dismissed the thought for more important matters.

'Zabuza. He's a big enough name that word gets around. If I keep my ear to the ground and pay attention to what he's doing, I can be reasonably certain of the timing. I'll just wait for him to move into Wave to work for Gato.'

Feeling cheered, Aiko added several stops to her cross-continental tour to check for information. She stopped in disreputable bars, a harbor with a significant smuggling presence, and one opium den that she was familiar with from her time running illicit materials.

It turned out that it was hard to coast on the reputation of her dangerous terrorist organization whilst

A. the terrorist organization was currently obscure to the point of irrelevance B. she was not a member of the terrorist organization anyway

"Please let me see your books?" Aiko tried, tilting her head to the side.

The information broker looked unimpressed, crossing enormous tattooed arms. "Smiling isn't going to work. Flirting isn't going to work. Violence isn't going to work. If you don't have the cash, you'd better either leave or just kill me now." His expression dared her to try.

Sullen, Aiko held up a finger to indicate one moment. "I'll be back."

"Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out." He picked his romance novel back up.

'Information extracted through torture is the least reliable,' Aiko reminded herself. Her hand curled into a fist. Instead of leaving, she exited the sideroom into the bar area, taking a moment to primp. She pinched her cheeks and lips. She took down her ponytail and ran her hands through her hair. Then she plastered a glassy, half-drunk-and-happy-about-it expression on her face and sauntered into the bar.

She scanned the room. Forty-two people, one drug deal, seven couples, one group of three who weren't friends, and-

One man eying her up from behind a nearly empty glass with some dark liquid nestled in ice.

Aiko made direct eye contact, raised an eyebrow, and indicated the bathroom with about the level of subtlety one might expect from drunks.

There was a moment of, 'Cool, really?' before the dark-haired stranger excused himself from his friends and started towards the restrooms, glancing at her questioningly. Aiko gave a huge, visible sigh, and walked into the men's restroom, fully expecting him to follow. She closed her eyes, focusing just enough to force her eyes to filter to the Rinnegan.

When her new friend opened the door, Aiko immediately whammied him with what was probably an unsafe amount of chakra and the compulsion to sleep. He dropped like a fish. Like, physically dropped.

'I always forget that part.'

Aiko lunged to break his fall, and wished she'd waited a second longer to jump the guy, because the door caught on the poor chump's foot. She wheezed, painstakingly dragging her victim out of the way. The door shut sheepishly, cutting off the ambient noise of conversation and distant radio programming.

His wallet was in his back pocket. Aiko picked out what she needed and fished the pen out of her bag to scribble an apologetic face on the back of a receipt. Before leaving, she propped the poor civilian up against a clean-ish wall and hid his wallet in his shoe. Getting robbed once was probably enough.

'The stealing is getting old. Besides, it's sloppy procedure to leave a constant trail like that. People talk.'

With that in mind, Aiko left a meeting with the now pliant-if-not-pleasant information broker with the knowledge that Zabuza had last been seen in Grass and the additional tidbit rumor of a nearby client who could use a hand with something he'd rather not approach a shinobi village for. She felt better with some good, honest work on the radar.

Well. You know. As honest as she felt like being. Aiko didn't give it too much thought, because serving as some rich bratling's inconspicuous guard paid pretty well and she only had to step in occasionally when her employer's drunk kid insulted someone bigger. Besides, the gig came with all the knives she could pocket from the jumpy genin washout who was working as the partygirl's other escort. Aiko needed them more than he did anyway. He was a genin working outside the village system, for crap's sake. He wasn't going to last the year.

'Maybe that means he needs the weapons more than I do?'

Well. She could use them better, anyway. Aiko ended the mission with money in her pocket, four kunai and an increasingly paranoid, twitchy coworker.

He stayed.

Aiko considered leaving without saying anything. It wasn't really her business. But they hadn't been a bad team- he looked like hired muscle and drew the attention, while she looked like another vapid rich kid slumming and hit the people who were still looking suspiciously at the genin. It wasn't a bad system, although it was one in which he was tragically disposable if his partner didn't care to watch his back.

'It is not going to be long before he runs into someone he can't handle. He looks big and scary, but he's just a baby, really.'

"You should probably get out while you're ahead," Aiko commented as she counted up her pay notes. "You're not cut out for this." The genin stood abruptly and walked out without comment.

'Fine. I tried.'

The next jobs she picked up were head-hunting gigs. They paid without any questions and she didn't risk making any friends.

Months passed in that way. Aiko slipped around the cracks of human refuse, slumming at the bottom of the barrel and taking missions that were advertised as better for a team. There was increased risk and hard nights without sleep, but she made bank by pocketing pay meant for more people. She saved up a fair bit of money.

It was… Thrilling and satisfying, actually. But lonely, yeah. She tried summoning her dogs- it didn't work. She could summon other animals, but not the ones she knew and cared about it. That was a harder blow than the loss of her Konoha citizenship, truth be told. She could probably go back if she really wanted to, and worm her way into the lives of people she might eventually miss. But if Mitsuo and Hōseki weren't answering her call, it meant that they were unable to.

They were never going to be able to.

Melancholy, Aiko spent far too much money in a bar that night. Nothing cheered her up- not the alcohol, not fleecing civilians at dart games, and not throwing an offended patron through a window when she became increasingly buzzed and forget to downplay her aim.

'I haven't heard anything about Zabuza in a while,' Aiko mused. 'I'll treat myself. Do something fun. Just be a real shithead. Then I'll check in on him.'

Still tipsy, she checked into a dive hotel for the night and tried to judge her location on the decent map of Hiraishin tags she'd made in the time she'd been stranded.

She determined that her geographical abilities were lacking enough that she would not attempt to relocate herself to a safehouse she hadn't been to in years while buzzed.

Sober, the next morning, on the other hand, Aiko seamlessly tugged on reality. It deposited her in the attic of the Akatsuki safehouse she'd been aiming for.

Aiko shrugged. Close enough. She jogged down the stairs and idly held up a hand in greeting when she passed by an open bedroom door. "Yo."

Iwa no Deidara grunted in response. By the time he'd jerked his head back up with a, "Wait, what?" Aiko was stepping into the kitchen in search of liquids that would chase off her hangover.

"Morning." Aiko nodded, keeping her tone bored.

Kisame opened his mouth and let coffee splash onto the table. He gave her a bewildered look.

'More cautious than I thought. He's probably wondering who brought me, and if Pein will kill him for attacking me. For all he knows, I'm a new hire, or someone from management.'

"Need a rag?" Still pretending that she belonged there, Aiko pulled open the top drawer, rolled her eyes at the measuring cups inside, and then tried another drawer down. The ex-Mist nin accepted the cloth she tossed.

'Don't smile. Don't. It'll undermine what I have going on here.'

She could feel her lips twitch. It was okay. She was turned away enough that he couldn't see it. Aiko controlled her expression and pulled down a teacup and saucer. When she turned around, she was all business. "Is there anything half-decent?"

The Mist Nuke-nin nodded cautiously, jerking his shoulder toward a cupboard. "I'd avoid the ocha. It's old. The rest is fine."

Uchiha Itachi wandered into the kitchen, made himself a bowl of green tea ice cream, and left without acknowledging her presence. It took half an hour for Pein to notice the intrusion, or to decide to deal with it. When the most familiar Path strode into the kitchen, Aiko was in the middle of checking the math in Kisame's checkbook.

"Kunoichi."

Aiko waved him off. "Just a minute," she said distractedly. "Thanks."

Inconspicuously, Kisame pushed his chair away from hers. He didn't reach out to pull away his checks, though.

"I do not repeat myself." Pein intoned darkly.

'Oh god, this is too easy.'

She cupped a hand to her ear. "Sorry, what?" Aiko mimed confusion. "I didn't hear that."

"I do not-" Pein cut his automatic response off, giving her a downright vicious glare.

'Moron.'

Aiko leapt across the table and tackled Pein to the ground.

Or, like, that was the idea. Instead she smacked into him with about the result she'd expect from charging a wall. The teacup in her hand even shattered from the collision, leaving her holding onto a curved shard the length of her bent finger. Because she was in fact a kunoichi and not a professional wrestler, Aiko flipped away and flung her kunai. They tik-tik-tik-tikt into the walls as he dodged them, moving all the way around her.

Which was, you know, fine. Because she now had two kunai embedded in the east wall, one in the south, and one in the west wall, and they were all Hiraishin.

Pein really literally did not see her coming. She appeared behind him, already jabbing her piece of broken glass forward and up through his brain stem.

'It's not really him anyway.' Aiko stepped back hastily to avoid the falling body; because Pein's favorite corpse to puppet around was super heavy with metal and what was probably ten years of slow rot.

The actual Pein was probably blinking somewhere from the sudden loss of sight and kicking at his wheelchair.

'I bet he's so confused.'

She cackled, tossing her head back and letting her blood-stained china fall from her hand.

"Serves you right, asshole," Aiko wheezed. "With your creepy jutsu and shit." She controlled herself enough to bend and wiggle out one of the metal piercings powering the corpse. She was kinda curious about how that worked. It wasn't really her style to be so far removed from a fight (that seemed like it would take the fun out of things) but it never hurt to pick up a technique.

Kisame cleared his throat just as she tucked the jewelry into her bra for safekeeping. Aiko turned around to see that he was holding out a clean teacup with a suspiciously neutral expression.

"Thank you." She took it. She let him pour her a new cup.

'Well, he did come from Mist. I think succession does traditionally go that way.'

"What now?" Hoshigaki Kisame was completely unfazed. Perhaps he could be described as politely interested, but that would be a stretch.

Aiko shrugged. The answer was obvious. 'Pein will regroup and come charging in here, a lot more prepared this time, at which point I will get the hell out of town.'

Of course, she knew that, and Konan would know that, but no one else would. It wasn't like Pein went around explaining the fundaments of his techniques and letting the implied weaknesses hang in the air.

"I'm taking command of this boyband," Aiko decided, spinning her now empty cup around the table with a finger. "You will be the cool one. Kakuzu-kun can be the one with a beard; Deidara-san is the eye candy, and Konan-chan is our manager. Oro- is Orochimaru here? If so, he's our androgynous, hypnotically dangerous backup singer." She pretended to think, tapping at her chin. "And Itachi-kun can just go home and think about his life choices."

Kisame eyed her up for a long moment. He shrugged without offering comment.

There was a snigger. "I am the cute one," Iwa no Deidara agreed from the door, delighted. He stepped over Pein's feet and pulled out a chair with an obnoxious scraping sound. "So who the hell are you, yeah?"

"Aiko, pleased to meet you." She favored him with a nod. Both men stiffened a little when she clapped her hands as loudly as possible. She injected seriousness into her tone. "Okay! So. The actual plan." They waited. She noted that Uchiha Itachi and Akasuna no Sasori were listening from another room. "You will play the biwa," Aiko decided, pointing at Kisame with her whole hand. He lifted an eyebrow. "Deidara-san, you're on percussion. I'm talking controlled explosions, in the crowd, laying down the beat."

The blonde leaned forward, enraptured. Someone, probably Sasori, made a disgusted sound from the back of their throat. Kisame just shrugged, not protesting or agreeing.

And Pein was moving toward her position fast, angry and covering a lot of ground. Aiko made one last brilliant attempt to baffle them with bullshit, forcing her body language to remain loose and untroubled as she got up to rinse out her cup. "Anyway, eat your vegetables and look both ways before you cross the street. Tell Konan that I'm sorry about her shoes when you see her." She probably cut off her last word, using Hiraishin to flee the country when Pein blew through the front wall.

#vapors #uzumaki aiko #electrasev5n #ninja daily #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #clarity #AIC #Aiko in Canon

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exaltatuss · 1 year

Text

"If I can rid your town of rats, you will give me ten thousand guilders."

-Hamelin

General Info:

Name; Hamelin Pierre Piper

Occupation: Fixer (Grade 3)

Age; 25

Race; Human (Augmented)

Height; 167 cm

Morality Alignment; Chaotic Neutral

Eye Color; Purple

Hair color; Silver (with Purple at the end tips)

Other Characteristics: Has rat ears and a tail due to being experimented on

Misc; Can hold a grudge, Petty, Two-faced

Personality:

Like most people who grew in The City, Hamelin's moral compass isn't really necessarily straight. Having learned to keep her head attached to her body, she focuses and prioritizes more on her own survival than others when faced in dire situations. While she does help in any way she can as per her job as a Fixer, she only does so when the pay is worth the effort.

That being said, she exercises tact and rigor in her contracts, has an air of professionalism, and thus making sure she wouldn't be slighted even at the slightest, especially after one incident. If such an event were to happen, she would resort to drastic, petty means to make sure that her being slighted will be rectified.

She exudes an air of refinement, suggesting a former upbringing on one of The City's Nests, yet also displays several quirks that can only be seen from people in the Backstreets.

While she is indeed two faced and selfish, only seeking to gain for her own self, it doesn't mean that she's heartless. So long as she knows that she's not being double-crossed, then she wouldn't start resorting to such morally dubious means to make even with those who slighted, or tried to slight, her.

Additionally, she also is a guarded individual. Due to the nature of The City, her social peers are far in-between, and may or may not be counted with her fingers. The rest are treated as associates.

Backstory:

Before becoming who she is nowadays, Hamelin grew up in a well-off family residing in the Nest of District 10. Here, would be given a refined, and sheltered life for a time. Though that did not last long for her. One heavily unlucky day for her parents, who spent a night gambling in J Corp's casino, and the entire Piper family would not only suffer heavy financial losses, they would also be subject to crippling debt, owing millions upon millions of Ahn.

To save Hamelin from sharing the debt, her parents would leave her in the Backstreets of District 10, while they would slave away on working for J Corp in order to repay the debt they owe. Though of course, sending a young child to the Backstreets is a death sentence. Her parents sent her there in hopes that she would be murdered so that she may be spared from sharing the family debt. In their eyes, that was mercy.

However, such mercy they were hoping for wasn't exactly what Hamelin had gotten.

From riches to rags in an instant, Hamelin forced herself to survive under such harsh conditions the Backstreets had to offer, all while evading certain death the best she could, as well as having to get herself to work dirt poor jobs so that she can eat whatever her scrappy amount of income could have bought. With how little her earnings were, she starved most of the time.

One day, as she was delivering a parcel, she would be abducted by unknown people. As this occurred in the Backstreets, no one really ever bothered to trouble themselves on looking for her.

Thus, she would be used for several experimentations, kept as a lab rat for several years on end, a few noteorthy results of her experimentations was her gaining a set of rat ears, and a tail. As for internally? Her entire bone structure had been augmented with durable yet flexible metallic alloy. There were also some results that was taken from her suffering, but given her age that time, she can't really understand the terminologies they were using, or rather, she refused to remember what they have done to her, at least the bulk of it.

When the time came in which she seem barely unresponsive from future tests, her captors unceremoniously dispatched her on a garbage dump in the Backstreets, having left her for dead.

She would survive, however, having been found by an elderly woman, who brought her to her home and be taken care of.

As gratitude for helping her, Hamelin worked for the elderly woman as a means to repay her kindness, which spanned for several more years, even as she eventually became a Fixer. Though when the elderly woman died of an accident, she was left alone again, and at that point, she started moving from one District to another, using her means as a Fixer to get by and survive.

There was one incident that did also changed her on how she did things as a Fixer as well.

There was a town in one of the Districts she had visited, that had a problem with Rats, the absolute bottom of the pile of people living in The City, ruining their livelihood. Hamelin offered to rid their town of the Rats, if they are willing to pay her Ten Thousand Ahn, to which they agreed. It didn't really took long, until she was able to weed out the last remaining Rat, and get rid of them, as per the deal.

However when it already came to payment, the people of the town refused to fork out the amount agreed upon, despite a heated argument. Emotions getting the better of her, Hamelin swore that they will pay for slighting her.

What happened during that night was one the town would remember.

Each children of that town went missing by the time they woke, only to find out that Hamelin had kidnapped them. She states that if they still are not willing to fork out the payment agreed upon, then she will sell those children to any willing Wing that would gladly take them for experimentation.

Such extortion would work, with Hamelin promptly returning the children to the people of the town after getting the payment she was agreed to be given with. This specific event is what gave her such a colorful reputation, heavily leaning onto the negative light.

However, to Hamelin, taking such measures now was well warranted. For most of her life she was slighted, and been dealt with such a poor hand, so much so that her realization is that if she wouldn't play ball with the hand dealt to her, then she would end up in another ditch, left for dead.

Powers & Abilities

Being a Grade 3 Fixer, Hamelin is, as expected, far above an ordinary human in regards to overall physical strength, durability, endurance, and speed. That, and the experiments done to her also made sure that she performs far better than an ordinary human would have performed. But even all this is but the norm towards most Fixers, as a major sum of Fixers also have had the luxury of augmenting and modifying themselves.

One trick she has up her sleeve, however, is what she call Pipe Dream. A modification she had commissioned at the hilt of her sword activatable by the press of a button, a music of sorts can be played that affect one's cognition, depening on how susceptible they are to it. Strong willed people would only experience minor cognitive disability, while the very unlucky ones who can't really hold against it are completely locked in a trance.

Speaking of which, the sword she uses is powerful enough to cut through solid steel, and given her augmentations, this has been put to use with deadly efficiency.

Her hand to hand combat is also noteworthy, as she can still put up much of a fight, even if she is disarmed, or if her weapon isn't readily available.

Trivia:

-She has illegal possession of a supply of K Corp's HP (Helapoiesis) Bullets stashed somewhere on the place she settles in, along with a specialized ampule gun that she can use to shoot herself with said HP Bulelts. As for how she was able to acquire an illegal possession of said bullets, she had made several connections enough to make it happen and smuggle a few crates of it to her.

Just one HP Bullet is enough to give Hamelin sufficient, instantaneous regeneration for a long period of time. At least until it expires. She only uses her limited supply of them sparingly, such as during jobs in which extreme violence is to be expected. After all, it took a lot of Ahn and resources from her to be able to smuggle out a supply from them. If she uses them frequently, she will get caught.

-An augmentation she had gotten for herself are micro-engines installed from the inside of her body, namely on her arms and legs. These add up further additional speed, velocity, and force from her movements, and when used in combat, can significantly crush bone, and even shatter basic weapons, given her now metal bone structure.

-The dress she wears is made from "fine silk" she had commissioned from The Carnival, which she paid handsomely for. Such tailor-made clothing not only hearkens to her Nest roots, it is also, as per Carnival specialty, imbued with powerfully defensive traits. In other words, such fabric can't be cut, damaged, or torn very easily, effectively protecting skin covered by it from many harmful external stimuli.

#new muse #;Hamelin #The Project Moon OC I mentioned

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teenage-idiot · 1 year

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In the Blink of an Eye - 4

Avengers Age of Ultron | Quicksilver x Female Reader Fan-fiction.

*WARNING SPOILERS*

Contains strong language, sexual references and mentions of death.

538 words

CHAPTER 4

"Everybody, this is y/n," said the man, "Now, I'm Steve, and this is Pietro," he spoke to me, gesturing between himself and the other boy. I smiled at the boy and he offered me a lopsided grin in return. 'He's kind of cute,' I thought to myself. Now I wasn't busy being scared for my life, I could really take everything in. Steve was quite tall and definitely worked out a lot. He also had short, brown hair. Pietro, on the other hand, had shaggy blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and sort of a rugged look about him, which in his case, was very attractive.

"Hi."

I was pulled out of my thoughts by the girl with the red hair introducing herself.

"I'm Natasha," she said, extending her hand. I shook it and then remembered last night, my eyes growing wide.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry about..."

"It's fine. Honestly, don't worry about it, I understand," she spoke calmly.

Well, at least that was now one less thing to worry about. After a while I was acquainted with everyone. There was Tony, Thor, Bruce, the guy I'd run into earlier, Clint, the guy with the bow, Vision, Wanda, the girl with the red leather jacket, Helen, Sam, James, and Maria, the woman I'd seen before. We all gathered around and I was telling them everything I knew on the situation.

"Okay, start from the beginning," Steve said.

"Alright. Well, about two years ago, I was at home, living with my family. One day, I went to bed, like normal, and the next day, when I woke up, I was in an unfamiliar room with a skylight overhead and moonlight pouring in. I was tied to a table with people standing over me talking about surgical procedures and experimentation. For months I was locked up in a cell, and only taken out when they needed to operate on me. Finally I learned what they were doing when I discovered I had...powers. I don't know why though. Eighteen months after discovering my powers, I managed to escape on the way to the operating room. Now, I'm here, and Hydra is trying to kill me."

I sat there patiently, waiting for someone to say something, anything.

"So what exactly can you do?" asked Clint.

"I have the ability to move things," I stated.

"You can move objects with your mind?" asked Wanda.

"Well, in a way. I only have the ability to control water though. It's sort of like telekinesis, but, I can only move things that contain water, or water itself. It's more like I can control the water inside of objects in order to get them to move, but I can't move the actual object itself. I can also heal people, and myself," I explained.

"So you can do a lot," said Pietro. I noted that both Wanda and he had quite a strong accent. It sounded sort of Russian, but I wasn't sure.

I just gave him a quick half smile as a response, and then turned to look at Steve.

"So what do we do?" I asked him, eager to find a solution.

He paused for a moment before finally speaking.

"We need to be ready."

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avocado-frog · 2 years

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Forget-me-not. 8

Rating: T Warnings: Not really an eating disorder, but Leo's not exactly the peak of healthiness. Human experimentation Chapter title: 11/14/2018 Word count: 2,000 Summary: Leo plans stuff

"So, what's your full name?"

"My full name? It's Leo."

"That's gotta be a nickname." Jaxon mashed a button on his controller, eyes glued to the screen, wincing back when his character was hit with Leo's character's sword.

"It isn't," Leo lied, hitting two buttons at once. On the screen, cartoon blood shot out of a head wound on Jaxon's character. "My full name is Leo."

"Last name, then?"

"It's-" Leo paused, remembering seeing that file, where the last names didn't line up with what she knew to be true. "Y'know, that's a good question. The file Cass and I found had a completely different last name."

"Well, I'd bet that the one on the file's your real one."

"Evans, then." Another pause, as they selected new characters to play as. "Why do you care?"

"Conversation starter." Jaxon shrugged loosely. "But now I'm curious. Leonie?"

"Nope."

"Leona."

"No."

"...Leopold."

"What?"

"Eleanor."

"Nobody whose full name is Eleanor goes by Leo," Leo sent an elbow to his shoulder, probably a bit sharper than she meant.

"Have you met everybody?"

Leo shoved his face away when it got closer. "Fuck off."

Jaxon only snickered, pushing the button to start the next game. In an instant, Leo had Jaxon's character's arm cut clean off with a sword, that was what he got for thinking her full name was Leopold.

Dylan woke up again at around four in the morning, Jaxon said it was typical of them. They joined in on a game or two, but eventually decided to watch, drawing something on a piece of paper. Leo tried to look, but they hid it.

Dylan stayed awake for the rest of the night, but Jaxon was knocked out within thirty minutes of Dylan being awake. Leo wasn't very tired herself, and sleeping on the floor covered in Cheeto crumbs was out of the question, anyways. Dylan had left a while ago, though Leo wasn't sure where they went.

Leo slid out of the bedroom and down the hall. There were a few patches of bleach on the walls and the floors, proving Lily's story to be true. Leo wasn't sure how to feel about that. She didn't know whoever had gotten killed, but she couldn't help but be upset about it.

The photograph still sat safely in her pocket, and Leo felt for it, sighing in relief at feeling the laminated paper between her fingers. She was fully blocking the notion that she had brothers from her mind, and the fact that Logan and Lily knew the twins seven years ago. Two weeks ago, that idea would have been absurd.

Leo took a step down the dark staircase, and her sleeve caught the crack in the railing. She gasped sharply, gripping onto the railing with her hand, narrowly avoiding breaking her skull by falling down.

She took a breath to calm herself down, shivering at the memory of Lily telling her that someone had fallen down the stairs and died here. History repeats.

The crack on one of the steps near the top, someone must have hit their head hard enough to break the wood. The crack in the railing, maybe someone had grabbed it during their fall and broke it, or they'd fallen back and hit their head there, too. No one could survive that without some sort of paralysis or head trauma.

Surprisingly, the light in the living room was turned on. A lamp was, at least, and created a dim, orange glow that only illuminated the shine on the leather couch and the screen of the TV.

"You're up early."

Leo jumped, and an embarrassing squeak managed to escape her throat. She calmed down, and cleared her throat.

"This is about when I would normally wake up," Leo responded, clearing her throat again for good measure. She walked towards the couch.

Logan whipped around from where he sat with a short scream. He caught his breath, hand over his chest like an old man who had just heard about Netflix. "I... forgot you were here."

"Sorry." Leo coughed into her fist, feeling a bit awkward. Logan set down a white mug of something that faintly smelled like coffee, and paused whatever he'd been watching.

"That's fine."

Silence. Leo was stuck, standing in the doorway. Whether it would be better or worse to go back upstairs now, or go to the kitchen like she had been planning, or sit on the couch with the stranger, she wasn't sure.

Leo managed to stand there for a whole thirty minutes, before Logan finally got up, ending their standoff.

"Did you want something for breakfast?"

"Sure."

Leo followed him into the kitchen, feeling distinctly like a lost puppy. She watched him search through Tupperware bins of food with sticky notes labeled with names, the cost of living in a house with four people, she supposed.

"Want anything in particular?" Logan asked, and Leo shrugged.

"I usually would just... have some cereal, or something. I don't care."

"You should eat more than cereal, if you're going to wake up at five in the morning. You'll have no energy, otherwise."

Leo could feel herself growing defensive, arms crossed, tensing back. "I can make toast."

Logan hummed, radiating disapproval. Pans clanged against each other, he started to clear spices from the counter. "I'll just make eggs. Allergic to anything?"

"No." Leo took a slight step back, as he tried to get through to grab a butter knife. "Well, I'm allergic to mangoes."

"There won't be any mangoes in your eggs, don't worry. What about Cass?"

"Didn't you know us when we were like, six?"

"Seven," Logan corrected. "But I wasn't cooking food for you. I only saw you when we got to go outside. Like, once every week, or so."

"...I don't think Cass is allergic to anything. I wouldn't know."

"Don't you two live together?" Logan cracked an egg over a frying pan.

"I guess." Leo felt herself get defensive again. "What's with you guys and all the questions?"

"Sorry," Logan chuckled lightly. Leo watched in mild interest, as he stirred the egg around until it became some solid, yellow lump. "I'm majoring in culinary arts, it's a little harder to do it online, and I only just started, so let me know what you think."

Leo hummed noncommittally. "It looks fine."

Of course, Leo wouldn't know. She hadn't ever had scrambled eggs before, to her knowledge. That probably... wasn't good.

"If I could cook, I'd make something other than cereal." Admitting that she couldn't cook felt like telling some forbidden knowledge.

"You can't cook? You're what, sixteen?" To her surprise, his voice didn't have the mocking tone she'd been expecting. Simply asking a question.

"Never learned. I can make toast."

"What about your sister?"

"Cass likes to bake." There, a fact she knew about Cass. This was why she won best-sister-ever-award. "I don't know what she makes, though."

Logan hummed again, quickly checking a watch on his wrist. He turned back to Leo. "Hey, I'm going to get the other kids up. Mind watching the food for a minute? Try not to burn the place down."

Leo smiled and nodded. This was definitely a test. Sure enough, the bacon looked like bacon and the They'd always looked unappetizing, but they smelled okay. Leo nudged it with a spatula.

Logan came back down after a few minutes, smiling at the lack of fire in the kitchen, and gave Leo a small pat on the shoulder.

Stumbling down the stairs came a particularly groggy Jaxon, rubbing his eyes with his hands, and Lily, arms crossed over her chest as she raised an unamused eyebrow at the boy in front of her. Cass followed, looking like she'd actually slept that night, and Dylan trailed behind the group, adjusting the hearing aid in their ear carefully.

"You're still here," Lily remarked, voice holding no particular emotion. Leo shrugged.

"Live here now."

Lily ignored her in favor of pushing past to grab a plate, scooping the food onto it, leaving for the dining room. Leo followed.

They didn't have a dining room at home, not one they used, anyway. Leo was used to ordering a pizza and eating in her room by herself, Cass was more often than not at Kai's house. Leo found herself almost preferring this.

---

The kids all left for school, Cass stood up to help Logan with the dishes, Leo did not, and had no regrets about it, either.

"So, what's your guy's plan?" Logan asked, he picked up a cup of something Jaxon had swore was apple juice, but smelled like an energy drink. That was fair. She had seen a minifridge full of them in their room.

Cass looked at Leo for an answer, and Leo inwardly cursed at herself. She cleared her throat. "What do you mean?" Leo asked back, trying to quickly come up with even the smallest crumb of an idea.

"Well," as Logan finished the dishes, he sat down at the table again, motioning for the twins to sit. "I know you plan on going to Maryland, and I agreed to take you, but I can't do anything until the weekend. I have a job and school."

"Right." Leo nodded. No idea formed. Shit. "You'd know better than me what to do."

"There's a sentence Leo doesn't usually say."

"Shut up, Cass."

"Well, we'll figure out a proper plan once I get back from work. You two think of something though. Feel free to stay. Anything in the fridge that doesn't have someone's name on it, you can have, and the remote's on the TV stand. I'll be home at around four."

They were very, extremely, incredibly deceased, if they went back home. They may as well have already been buried.

Cass thought for a moment. "Well, we'll have to find a place to stay. Especially if we find anyone. I am once again suggesting Kai and Marcy's house. Our cousins who own an actual mansion."

"No. I've already told you, that's the first place anyone will look, and who knows how many people we'll find?"

"Statistically, not many," Logan pointed out. Leo jumped, forgetting he was still there, in the living room, tying a blue scarf around his neck. "The lab in Maryland is a research lab, not a testing one. They won't hold nearly as many people as the other ones."

"There's more?" Leo slammed her hands on the table, and dropped her head on the surface. "Goddammit. How do we even know that's the right one?"

"Proximity." Logan shrugged. "If you two are really related to them, then they'll be at the same one we were."

Leo hummed, hardly interested. Logan was right, though. Leo didn't know much about the three kids they were looking for, just that there were, in fact, three of them, they might be her siblings, and that they were babies when the picture was taken, putting them at only nine or ten years old.

"Well, think it over." Logan stood up, smiling at the two. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah, we'll still be here."

A smile, and Logan shut the door, leaving them inside.

Feel free to stay.

Well, there was an answer on a silver platter. Logan seemed willing enough to let the twins stay, until they could find a permanent place. Until she had enough money to rent an apartment nearby, or something. If she were alone, she would have been fine searching for an abandoned building, maybe sleeping in the car forever, but she wasn't, she had Cass, and potentially three younger brothers. That she didn't know what to do with.

Neither of the twins really felt comfortable staying alone at a house that wasn't theirs, but agreed to come back at around three, when they'd all get back from school. Dylan, still an elementary-school kid, at eleven years old, got home the latest, thirty minutes after Jaxon and Lily would.

A light frost coated the wooden bench by the playground, rendering the area significantly colder, and left Leo almost wishing she had stayed at Logan's house for the most awkward six hours of her life.

Cass was wandering through the garden, apparently where she had met Dylan, while Leo worked on coming up with a plan on a sheet of Cass's notebook paper.

Leo had the events leading up to the- what was she supposed to call it? A raid? Rescue?- the whatever it was she was doing, it was all planned out perfectly. She had the events during the thing planned out, mostly, but afterwards? Nothing.

There were three kids, likely ten years old, and who knew if they were even alive? If they weren't, then what? She would have literally stolen a vehicle and nearly died for nothing, and that would suck. If they were alive, she would have stolen a vehicle and nearly died for a group of fifth-graders. Not even a group of them. Three. Whose names she didn't even know.

And then there was the possibility that they were siblings. What then? She chose to ignore that specific train of thought.

Maybe she could talk to Logan a bit more. Out of all of them, she trusted him with advice the most, despite only knowing him for a day and a half.

Except technically, she'd known him for about three years, plus the day and a half.

She chose to ignore that, too. The idea of not being able to remember a whole half of her life was a bit uncomfortable, to say the least.

The alarm on her phone buzzed in her pocket, she panicked to turn it off before it made the photo fall out (she hadn't known where else to put it, where it would be safe) and a quick glance told her that Cass had gotten the same alarm. It was nearly three, about time to get back to Logan's house.

---

The following couple of days were spent, mostly in figuring out just what they would do once they got there. And for what felt like the first time, Leo wasn't doing all of the planning on her own. That was, mostly, because she didn't have a clue where to begin.

Logan would drive, because he knew the directions. When asked how he remembered how to get to the building in the middle of the woods, he said it wasn't hard to find it, and that you don't just forget a place like that. There was a trail, if you knew where to look. There was also a map in the dash of the van Leo stole, if you knew where to look.

Cass was going to stay in the back of the van, on the chance that the kids were hurt, she could heal the minor injuries. As for broken bones, infections, the sorts, they'd just have to hope for the best on that one.

Leo was going inside the building, find some kids, hopefully not run into anyone who worked there, and hopefully not have to blast fire around. That wouldn't be ideal. Contrary to popular belief, Leo was against using her magic to burn people to death. Though, from what she'd gathered, the people that worked there were not the greatest, to say the least.

And then, Jaxon was coming along, too.

And no one was all that enthusiastic about it. Lily and Dylan both threatened her life if anything happened to him, and Logan was reluctant, and Cass tried to talk him out of it, but he was adamant on coming with her. As back-up, and to give directions, because he knew how to access the security room.

("No you don't," Logan had actually argued that point, though. "You haven't been there since you were nine."

"Yeah, well, I'll figure it out.")

They got their plan all set up, everything was good, Leo wasn't excited about having to drag Jaxon along with her, but it would be fine.

Leo claimed the room across the bathroom, though she hadn't bothered to really unpack anything. This was a temporary stay. Maybe a week, two weeks at the most. Cass claimed the room in between hers and Lily's.

She ignored texts from the kids at school, ignored calls from her cousins, and blocked her parent's numbers. Jaxon's contact was the first that got added into her phone, followed by Logan, and then eventually Dylan and Lily.

The days where Logan had work and the kids had school was still spent in awkward silence among the twins. Cass helped out with chores most of the day, Leo did not, either going to the park, or walking around the city, or staying at the house and watching TV until they came back.

It would be three days until they left. Leo spent the first afternoon with Jaxon, she found him annoying, loud, and yet, he was the only one she felt comfortable around. Logan was six years older than she was, acted like too much of an authority figure for Leo to consistently be around, and she knew Lily didn't like her, and Dylan was a bit apprehensive, so it was tense between the two. And of course, it was awkward to be around Cass all the time, when they hardly talked up until two weeks ago.

Sometimes, just walking around the house, if she looked close enough, she could see the evidence of the people who used to live there. Crumpled-up crayon drawings long forgotten, signed in orange crayon, hidden underneath the bed in one of the guest rooms, toy cars and stuffed animals in the backyard, discolored by weather. The imprint of a stick-on glow star just above Leo's head on the ceiling in her room. And then the bleached spots on the ground, the break in the railing, and the crack on the stairs.

#writing #original characters #original work #writeblr #chapter 8

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theclo4ked1 · 7 months

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abnormally large paintbrush aura Sometime before last Sunday (was October 1st), I began a project that involved making a series of twelve 8"x10" oil paintings by using a limited amount of tubes colours; three, to be exact, to make each painting. Not only that, but an added challenge was that at least four of these paintings had to be done exclusively by palette knife, of which I lack a variety of, but nonetheless, I prevailed. Some of them are still life paintings, and the rest are abstract and imaginative. All the paintings are ordered by creation.

These two were made the same day when I initially started. It was a very Summer-themed beginning despite my intentions, more of a coincidence. The tree was the first one created, the first still life, the first done by palette knife -- lotta firsts, alright? It wasn't a bad start, but I definitely kicked it up a notch with the beach sunset beside it. I thoroughly enjoyed using the brush to create and blend the sky and the water. A few of the twelve, that one included, I feel I really tapped into my inner Bob Ross -- an alter ego named "Frob Boss", also coined that same day.

The next week, I made these three during the evening; that orange against a green backdrop and the geometric shapes one was an experimental use of masking tape, which I don't normally do, but that's the motif of this series: experimenting. One of my least favorites, unfortunately. Those two were done with the palette knife btw, and the umbrella was another still life (done by brush that time), I enjoyed doing it and worked late just trying to get some of the shading right.

Then came Sunday afternoon, where the next seven paintings come from. I was on a roll, lemme tell ya:

That cup of Black Tea was sketched (the only one sketched also) either the day before that Sunday or...thinking on it now, it probably was before; I'm remembering the harsh kitchen light on the cup and...yeah, yeah, I was eating a Caesar Salad with chicken (my favorite), so it was probably the night before. YES IT WAS BECAUSE well you don't need any more details--it was sketched Saturday, then painted Sunday. These three paintings were done with the palette knife, and the third one is something to talk about: my uncle, one of the last times we spent time together, told us about an artist whose painting was hung in an exhibition. The painting in question, as described by my uncle, was just pure oil on canvas. This story made me question what people really consider art, but all I could think about was the process ("pro-says") of how that piece came to be: did the artist just splash Linseed Oil on the canvas and said "yes this is my vision"? Or maybe something that seems incredibly simple to do meant something far deeper from the artist/the context that makes the art? In the end, my uncle's story came back to me, so I gave the "Linseed Oil only" a try for myself. What I hope you can see is a simple landscape with a few mountains, and the sun in a sky of clouds. It's very hard to see straightforward, but at an angle, even on a screen, it's just barely visible. Finally, the upside-down forest in the middle is a favorite because it will always remind me of one my favorite Daria episodes, Art Burn, the one where Jane makes all these counterfeit/replica paintings of old and classical artists so she can make money to pay to repair her family's "Naming Gazebo" (later revealed to be all unimportant and not actually what is said on the tin), which results in a continuous creators' block, and negatively affects her ability to make her own unique artwork. One of the moments in the episode, pre-Jane-burnout, is at the art fair, where she had a Van Gogh she hung right-side-up, but painted upside-down, which few people commented on. That moment in the episode came to me while painting the centre tree after I messed up the upper branches.

After reaching my palette knife quota, I joyously switched back to brush for the final paintings. Let it be known: the only brush -- the one brush I used was a Simply Simmons size 12 something-type. The second of my four so-called "landscape paintings" is this dreamy landscape inspired by a memorable game, NiGHTS Into Dreams. The floor-ceiling nature of the level design always stuck out to me as really cool and has become something of a trope in my recent works. The "green-hills-and-tulips-against-the-sky" is just another example. Beside that, the sunset over and Autumn forest was an ambitious one. Another "Frob Boss" moment, but someone thought it was pepperoni sticks, and I'm not sure what those are, but they sound delicious. There's been another dreamscape painting I've wanted to make for a little over a year now. A story for another time...

Alright, the final two. Who dat on tha left? That's me: a self portrait (face reveal lolwut???) I decided to do after looking at my reflection in the night window. It lacks the eyebags I had at the time, but my facial hair is arguably the best part, but you wouldn't know that. Someone commented on how it looked sad. Little did they know, I was just tired. Last but not least, a simple apple. This, of all pieces, was NOT a still life, and I think that says something about me; my visual of apples is so strong likely because I eat them all the damn time, which also means I have to look at them too because I hold them, wash them, cut them, and again, eat them, so naturally, I would have a greater deal of knowledge of how to create an artistic rendering on an apple such as this. Somebody said the apple looked like it was rotting, which wasn't my intention, but I can see how. At the time of painting, I didn't think anything of it, but this apple is probably Honeycrisp, my favorite.

HA-HAHA! HA-HAHA-HAHA! I LIED, THERE'S THIS ONE EXTRA PIECE I MADE! See, I did a miscount and made this thirteenth without paying attention to how many I did up to that point. I could've stopped at the apple if was more attentive before opening more canvas packages. I'll admit, this is the worst one in this series. I think it lacks creativity and heart. As tired as I was, I don't know how I pulled of the last seven. This hot air balloon over the wood(s)...I'm glad I ran out of ideas here, yet I'm also glad I made it so I have something to look back to, as I do with all things of my past; so that I have a story to tell.

Even though I rushed the final eight, I still had a nice time doing this project, and what helped me a ton were the canvases since so small compared to what I used to work with. It gave me some kind of clarity in experimentation. After the twelfth (I think), I came to realize "damn, I never thought about how ranged my painting style is". However, I believe this is only due to acting on impulse rather than a calculated, meticulous piece of artwork. Or maybe that's is what defines someone's art style: acting on impulse and creating something with such uniqueness, it could only be identified as YOU. Thanks for reading!

#painting #oil painting #oil on canvas #illustration #art #art series #im ded #daria mtv #daria #daria scenes #jane lane

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mlcheely · 1 year

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It's Just A Game... CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR. ☆

DATE : ┃OCTOBER 1ST, 1998. LOCATION : ┃████. TIME : ┃12:02 PM.

⸺ . ⋆ ☆ ⋆ . ⸺

The helicopter ride had been long — the four passengers were silent as they flew through calm skies. Fluffy clouds gently floated through the baby blue as the warm, bright sun greeted those who bathed in its light. It appeared to be a beautiful day, but the mood that settled in the cabin was anything but beautiful. About an hour into the flight, Jill ended up passing out from exhaustion while Carlos and Barry piloted, only speaking into the microphones on their headsets every once in a while. Erica simply shrunk into herself, her thoughts running amuck as she tried to process all that’s happened. It hadn’t been able to leave her mind since they took off — her arrival to Raccoon city, her kidnapping, her experimentation, her escape, and all the death and destruction that piled in Raccoon City’s last days of existence.

Jill stirred awake as they arrived at their destination, peering out the window to take a look at where they were. It looked like some kind of private airport. She turned to Erica and offered a groggy, weak smile. Erica smiled back, but it wasn’t genuine. How could she smile? Even as the four of them met the ground, she couldn’t find the urge to form a grin no matter how hard she tried. She got out of the city, she's alive…but at what cost?

They all exited the aircraft, shielding their faces against the blinding sun. Barry made his way over to one of the men standing near the landing area to return the helicopter keys and retrieve his vehicle keys. Carlos turned to Jill as Barry left. “I think I’ll be heading out from here.” He sighed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay and help?” Jill frowned.

“Umbrella is going to be on the lookout for me, so I gotta lay low for a while. Besides, I have my own business to attend to.” He says before turning to Erica. “You better keep an eye on her. She’s gonna need it.” He joked, and Jill gave a straight smile. “Will we hear from you?”

“You might.” He smiled back, saluted her, and set off on his own.

Barry returned some time later, looked around the area, and turned to Jill. “If I recall, we had another passenger.” He stated. Jill nodded. “He had his own business to attend to.” Barry nodded back and focused his attention on Erica after that. It had been a while since he had last seen her, and he spoke the first thing that came to his mind. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back…” She replied. Those were the first words that came out of her mouth since the explosion; however, she wasn't exactly sure she meant those words — even now as the three of them travel by car across a bumpy, mountainous terrain.

She glances out of the car’s window, taking in the passing trees and overgrown brush. She’s been quiet the whole ride — something that Jill has noticed. It doesn’t surprise her, though. After all Erica has been through, it’s only normal she wouldn’t want to speak much; what would she even say? What could she talk about that wouldn’t involve the horrors she faced? Since everything is so fresh, she decides it’s better to just leave it alone.

Jill peeks out of the corner of her eye at Erica but Erica pretends she doesn’t feel Jill watching her. She clutches the backpack in her lap tightly, leaning her head against the backpack as she faces the window. Jill faces forward as they come to a clearing and her eyes fall on the shape of a small cottage. Outside the cottage, a masculine figure is chopping wood. She immediately recognizes the figure as Chris and a relieved smile spreads across her lips. Erica lifts her head as the vehicle parks, unbuckling her seatbelt when Barry shuts off the engine.

Chris faces the car as the three of them pull up, placing the ax onto a stump. He first notices Barry, who had left without a word the night prior, but when he sees Jill sitting in the passenger’s seat he starts to reconsider scolding him. ‘At least he had a good reason for leaving.’ He thinks to himself as he spots another figure in the back seat. Who could that be?

Jill exits the car first and Erica becomes nervous as she catches a glimpse of Chris from inside the car. Her fingers rest on the door handle and her eyes stare at him longingly before shifting to the floorboard. She feels anxiety creep up her spine. What if he doesn’t want to see her? What if she’s too different now? What if —

“You coming?”

Her intrusive thoughts are interrupted by Barry’s inquiry and she forms a straight smile. “Yeah, I just — ”

“You don’t have to explain anything…” He says with a look of reassurance before exiting the vehicle. As the door closes behind him, Erica opens her own door. She slowly steps out, grabbing the handle of the backpack and closing the door behind her. She walks towards the front of the car to see Chris and Jill embracing one another, relieved to see each other again. Then, as they pull away and step back Chris’s eyes meet Erica’s own. He takes a step forward — a look of pure disbelief written on his face.

“Erica?”

He takes in her appearance, blood drenched hair, skin, clothes — you name it. Her expression is that of sadness, and it brings an aching feeling to his chest. Big blue eyes stare at him, silently eager to run up to him while approaching hesitantly. Her lips part and he hears his name in a voice he thought he’d never hear again. “Chris…” She whispers. Her stomach flips, tossing and turning in silent excitement as he steps towards her. She scans his face; he looks so tired, bags underneath his eyes from what she can only assume to be from lack of sleep. He has a little bit of stubble now, but it’s not like that matters to her. She’s just happy to see him again, even if she knows it’s not the same now — it won’t ever be the same…

“Is that you?” He shifts his eyes up and down her form, still believing her to be some sort of figment of his imagination, but it’s her. It’s really her .

“Of course it’s me.” Her eyes start to water as he takes her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

A tear trickles down her cheek as he pulls her in for a tight embrace, her hand releasing the handle of the backpack to wrap her arms around his torso. The bag falls to the ground and as the two hug, Barry and Jill turn to each other. Barry motions his head for the two of them to head inside and Jill nods in agreement. It’s better to give the two of them some time alone rather than stand around watching. ‘Maybe it might cheer Erica up.’ She thinks as they step through the cottage’s front door.

Chris buries his fingers in her hair and as he hears a sniffle escape her, he pulls away. She gazes up at him with teary eyes, and he reaches a hand up to caress her cheek. His heart is pounding out of his ribcage, and she can hear his anxious blood pumping as he stares into her eyes.

“Do you want to come inside?” He asks, sliding some hair behind her ear. A smile pulls at the corner of her lips. “I’d like that.” She murmurs. He smiles in return, reaching down to pick up her backpack to carry it inside for her. She has an instinctive thought to protest, but she holds her tongue. ‘If he wants to carry it for you, let him.’ She tells herself, and the two walk up the front steps and enter the front door, closing it behind them.

The interior of the cottage is as quaint as its exterior — there’s a dining table next to a small kitchen, there’s a couch, a coffee table with a radio on top, and a lamp in the nearby living room, and what Erica believes to be a bathroom down the hall. She assumes it’s a bathroom by the sound of running water coming from behind the closed door. Jill must be showering.

There’s a set of stairs leading to a second floor that consists of two doors corresponding to each other. The smell of dust and earth coats the entire home, but it doesn’t bother Erica in the slightest. It gives her a strange sense of comfort.

Chris walks over to the wooden dining table where Barry is currently sitting and places the backpack on the table’s surface. “Damn, what’s in that thing?” Barry asks with a chuckle. Erica pulls out a chair and takes a seat as Chris curiously unzips the bag. His eyes meet a thick, old binder along with a slender, newer one and his brows furrow. What are these, and why does Erica have them?

He glances at her in confusion and she pulls the backpack down the table. He watches her as she slides the binders out of the bag. His and Barry’s eyes immediately widen in shock and disbelief. Are these Umbrella’s records?

“Well I’ll be damned…” Barry mumbles.

“How did you get these?” Chris questions.

“I stole them.” She replies, staring down at the table. Barry picks up the smaller binder and frowns as he reads the name. “This one’s yours…isn’t it?” Erica’s eyes don’t even shift in his direction — she simply nods. Barry and Chris glance at one another with concern. They should be celebrating; they have everything they need for their case: evidence, a living witness, and several testimonies…but something is wrong. What exactly happened to Erica? What did Umbrella do to her?

The file Chris read back at the Spencer Mansion was vague and only described what viruses and tests were administered to her body. He doesn’t know the real horrors she might have faced or if anything went undocumented. Chris is fully aware if she was infected with the T-Virus she should have turned by now — but he can never be too sure. The virus could be laying dormant in her DNA…

Jill turns off the bathroom light as she finishes drying her hair, tossing her towel in a nearby laundry basket. Luckily for Jill, the trio had stopped at a clothing store on the way to the cottage and she couldn't be happier to have a clean pair of clothes. She’s sure Erica’s looking forward to the same as she steps out of the bathroom. She enters the living room and quickly senses an awkward tension.

“What did I miss?”

“Erica here brought us a goldmine.” Barry states, “Almost two decades worth of Umbrella’s records.” Jill approaches the table to investigate and her mouth falls agape as her eyes scan over the binders. “What?” She looks at the backpack before at Erica. “Is that what you were carrying around this whole time?”

Erica smiles sheepishly, peering up at her from the chair. “I thought it would help.” She shrugs, and Jill can’t help but shake her head with a smile of her own. “What would we do without you?”

“I don’t know.” Erica laughs nervously. The question takes her aback, and after a couple of moments pass she stands from her chair. “I think, uh, I’m gonna go take a shower…” She mumbles, prompting the three to scan each other’s faces as she moves towards the bathroom in silence. When the bathroom door closes, Chris speaks up. “She’s not okay…is she?”

Jill sighs. “Not at all. Something happened to her, Chris…We might be able to help her if we read her file, but if you want me to be blunt about it I don’t know if we can.”

“Why do you say that?” Barry questions.

“She’s been infected for too long — ”

“ What do you mean ?”

Erica turns on the shower as she hears Chris’s inquiry, hoping the sound of water will drown out their conversation. She doesn’t want to hear or see Chris’s reaction when Jill tells him what happened to her and what she’s done, nor does she need to relive the moments Jill might be telling the two men.

After removing her boots, she strips herself of her blood encrusted clothes and steps into the water’s warm streams. She faces up to the shower head, letting the water rain down on her face, hair, and body. Blood washes away and down the drain and as soon as she can no longer see any red, she grabs a nearby shampoo bottle and lathers some in her hair. Once she’s finished, she moves her head back under the water to rinse out her long hair.

What is she going to do? What is she going to do now that she’s a bioweapon? She’s killed people — regardless if they were innocent or not. She’s done more than that; she’s feasted on their flesh, she ripped off meat from Nikolai’s bones and pulled his body apart until there was nothing left.

A wave of nausea crashes into her and she lowers to her knees. She sits at the bottom of the shower, trying her best to prevent herself from vomiting. She feels bile touch the back of her throat before going back down. A cough slips past her lips from the burn, and she quickly opens her mouth in hopes the warm water will soothe the burning sensation. ‘At least I’m not hungry.’ She thinks, sighing to herself as the sick feeling dissipates. She stands back up and continues bathing herself before rinsing and shutting off the water.

A sudden knock at the door causes her to jump and she peeks her head from behind the shower curtain.

“Yeah?”

“I have some clothes for you…Can you unlock the door?” It’s Jill. “Yeah, uh, give me a minute.”

“Okay…”

She grabs a folded towel that was placed on a nearby shelf and she starts to dry herself. Once she’s done, she wraps her body in the towel and unlocks the door. She slides her hand out, prompting Jill to hand her the clothes. Erica pulls them inside the bathroom and closes the door, but not before offering Jill a soft “thank you.”

Jill nods. “You’re welcome.” Erica removes her towel and grabs the first article of clothing. It’s a big t-shirt, and the second article is a pair of biker shorts, followed by a new pair of boxers. ‘It’s probably all they had…but it’s nice to finally have a pair of underwear.’ She muses to herself, tossing the soaked towel in a laundry basket.

As Erica enters the living room, she frowns. Where’s Chris?

It seems as if Jill reads her mind when she notices Erica. “If you’re looking for Chris, he’s outside.” She glances at Jill and Barry as she walks to the door and assumes that if she has a conversation with Chris it probably won’t be a happy one. After slowly opening the door, she steps out onto the porch. Chris is sitting on the steps, silent as he stares out at the mountainous view. Erica takes a seat next to him, silent as she joins him. Chris turns to her and scans her face.

All of the blood and dirt on her body is gone, revealing the face of the woman he so craved to see again. Her natural beauty always captivated him, but it feels as if she has a whole new kind of allure — even now with what he knows. He knows she’s some kind of monster, but he can’t see it. He can’t imagine it just like he can’t imagine all the terrible things she might’ve seen or went through. He still secretly wants to tell her how he feels, even if she ate someone. He wants to tell her he loves her, even if she’s a biological weapon. He wants to …but he can’t. Not now…things are different now. Chris decides it’s better to keep it to himself, so he instead takes her hand in his.

She doesn’t look at him as he does this, but he knows she’s not ignoring him as she squeezes it in return — the silent affection between the two is all they need for now.

⋆

DATE : ┃OCTOBER 2ND, 1998. LOCATION : ┃ EUROPEAN COTTAGE. TIME : ┃3:30 AM.

⸺ . ⋆ ☆ ⋆ . ⸺

Snarl !

Growl !

AAAHHHHHHH!!!

A loud, crackling thunder shakes the cottage and Erica sits up with a gasp. She pants, her body drenched in sweat. Chris stirs in his sleep beside her and she looks down at him in the dark. A flash of lightning from the windows lights up the room, and she catches her breath. ‘It’s just a storm…’ She thinks before slowly sliding off of the bed, careful not to disturb a sleeping Chris.

Tiptoeing across the wooden floor, she opens the door. It creaks loudly and she can hear Chris groan in his sleep over the sound of the storm. She opens the door swiftly, avoiding the squeak. As she reaches the bottom of the stairs she walks towards the kitchen, hoping she might find something to drink and head back to bed. However, something catches her attention out of the corner of her eye.

On the dining table is a tiny, white box with an envelope next to it. She approaches the table with furrowed brows, curious as to what could be inside the box. Blue eyes read over the envelope; Erica’s name is written on it. It’s addressed to her, but that’s it. There’s no address, no sender; just her name. She glances around the first floor, but she doesn’t see or hear anyone. The envelope and box have a different smell, too…Who left this for her?

She opens the envelope and reads:

⋆

Congratulations, Miss Slater!

You made it out of Raccoon City and completed the game.

GREAT JOB!

As your reward, you get to go home.

Press the button if you wish to return. However, once you press the button you may not return to the same world as you once knew it. Nobody will remember you; it will be as if you never existed, but at least you get to go home, right?

⋆

The letter causes her heart to drop into the pit of her stomach. No, this isn’t real. This has got to be some kind of joke. She doesn’t believe it, but does she get to go home? Does she really get to go home? Wait; what does it mean by button?

She immediately opens the box and inside is a small remote with a single button. She feels her stomach twist — if she presses this, she supposedly goes back home. If she presses this, she might get to see her family again. If she presses this…there’s a possibility she won’t see Chris or Jill or Barry or anyone else from this world ever again.

Erica frowns. She might not ever see them again, but she quickly reassures herself that she doesn’t belong here. She already knows where she belongs; she belongs back home. She can’t stay here — she would just get in the way in the long run. Besides, they can’t help her now. Things are different now… she’s different now. She clutches the remote in her hands before sighing. The note does say none of them would remember her, so maybe it’s for the best. Maybe it’s better for her to never have existed to them at all…

Although she’s a little skeptical, Erica presses the button and waits for the next moment for something to happen.

Then — everything went white.

#resident evil #resident evil fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #isekai #post resident evil 2 #post resident evil 3 #erica slater (oc)#carlos oliveira #barry burton #chris redfield

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inverse-muses · 1 year

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Escape from Lunatic Kingdom

"No matter where you go... you will always be a prisoner!"

"Yet I will be your prisoner no longer."

~~~~

Tired hands worked sorely... desperately, as they had done for years. Though Chang'e was given no freedom, she wasn't so restricted as one might expect. She was still royalty, after all... Though denied food and drink, she at the least had all the comforts that a highly guarded, heavily sealed palace room could afford her. She was given no contact... None were even to speak to her. She had only herself, and the rabbits her powers deemed her fit to create to keep her company. Their numbers were in the dozens... but they were simply ordinary rabbits. Not long enough aged to become the humanoid rabbits the moon was known for...

Yet now, they served a purpose... The privacy she was given gave rise to experimentation with her powers. Though she had the lunar magic suiting of a goddess, the seals posed issues. They were too strong to break... Not with brute force, anyhow. Thus, she needed to be creative. She needed to find some way to trick the guards into giving her an opening, but... In doing so, she knew that failure would only mean a more restrictive sentence; potentially robbing her of any further attempts at freedom.

Even then... she knew she couldn't stay on the moon. She would be found, and life on the moon outside of the capital was certainly no life at all. Even if she couldn't die, the lack of oxygen might have been a worse fat than constant hunger and thirst.

Yet... Unbeknownst to the ones that kept her, she had gotten knowledge of a place she could go... Rabbits of the moon were capable of communicating simply by vibrating their ears. Over the years, passing rabbits had been feeding her tidbits of information as much as they could... and several mention of a land on earth where others from the moon had found refuge kept coming up... Gensoukyou. Land of Illusions and Fantasy.

Getting out of her royal cell was one thing... but if she wanted freedom, true and absolute, she would need to find passage to Gensoukyou. No small feat, given the isolationist nature she's been told of the land... but mentions of dreams giving way to Gensoukyou proved a plausible method. She had her plan, but... Executing it... She would get only one chance, and she had to make it count.

Blood. Painting with it was a sort of cliche, but it was the only ink that she had access to. For days she had spent, imbuing various sigils in blood upon the fur of her rabbits. Omyoudou... To gods, and Lunarians, it was somewhat of a primitive sort of magic, which was perfectly suited to Chang'e's needs at the time. Anything more than this might have raised an alert... But this form of "magic", divination, was so passive, and subtle, yet... In the hands of a goddess, it could undoubtedly to wonderous things.

In this case... it was going to facilitate her escape.

Chang'e sighed... The last rabbit was painted, and she was primed to make her attempt. One chance... a mantra that was repeated in her head several times over as she went over the self-made plan in her head. She let the rabbit free of her lap, and breathed in deeply...

This next part was going to hurt... Of course it was.

In order to get this plan to work... She would need to use her Goddess power to destroy herself, to the point where only blood would serve as a suitable point of reformation.

----

In the dead of the Lunar night... a blast could be heard echoing throughout the halls of the palace that one was home to Houyi, and now imprisoned his wife, Chang'e. Guards, concerned with an escape effort, flung open the doors to Chang'e's room, and unintentionally unleashed a hoard of blood-painted rabbits into the hall. Purely on reaction, many of the rabbits were slain by wildly swung swords, but the tide of white and red proved far too overwhelming as the rabbits jumped and ran in every which way they could manage. They took ever corner, every shortcut, every nook, cranny, and crack they could slip their way into, all with the express purpose of leaving the palace and scattering...

Most of them were allowed to. Guards from all over the palace came to join the original few in ensuring that Chang'e was secured... Only to find little but dust. She had expanded every bit of power that she could manage at once to destroy herself in such a absolute way that the only thing tangible left of her ran away on the fur of the rabbits that had long since escaped.

Pandemonium erupted in the capital. The thought that the fleeing rabbits might have had something to do with Chang'e's disappearance came far too late. By the time word had spread to find and destroy them, enough had already found their hiding places. They scattered across the capital, far and wide, hiding wherever possible that they could manage. There, every rabbit that had made it to where they were meant to fell into a deep, deep sleep... and dreamt of a new home.

A home in Gensoukyou...

#drabble

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lightdancer1 · 2 years

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A scene from the ATLA/Sailor Moon crossover:

Azula would never learn much in the way of English, nor did she have any real desire to. She did all the same make a point to study it and Russian due to the prominence of both languages in this new world and at least get a small degree of proficiency in reading it. English was simpler due to what was called Romaji in Japanese....on paper.

The spelling was convoluted enough she was certain whoever came up with the idea had to have been on some kind of illicit substance in the dead of night, but that was neither here nor there.

There was only one bit of English literature that stuck with her in all her reading (reading English histories wasn't really the same thing and she found it a fascinating reality that even in this world histories were irreconcilably different depending on which culture wrote them).

A poem by a man named Henley.

"It matters not how straight the gate," she said, reading the words slowly and deliberately, "how charged with punishment the scroll.

I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul."

She looked at the works by the man named Pushkin beside her.

"Stormclouds dim the snow, weaving the tempest into patterns wild.

Like a beast the gale is wailing, now howling like a child."

She shook her head.

"Hmf."

"This world has too many languages."

Her lips pursed and then she looked at the scripts again.

"Alphabet," she said the word experimentally. "Bah. Not even a word from either of these languages."

She shook her head.

Experimentally she wrote her name in Kanji, in Cyrillic (another strange name to look into, so much that made no sense), and in the Roman alphabet (she would have to look up the Romans and who they were and why Japan and England both used the term to refer to this script).

Last she wrote it in the Fire Nation script she'd learned as a child, biting her lip.

"If nothing else I will be quite the cunning linguist."

She heard Setsuna-mama snickering as she stepped in and shook her head fondly.

"Oh you," she said, before looking at the array of books and whistling slightly under her breath.

"A Mizuno with lightning," she muttered under her breath where Azula couldn't hear it, the amusement and fondness not fading.

#atla aus #atla/sailor moon crossover

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farfromsugafanfic · 3 years

Text

Sutures - Chapter 12: Cardioplegia

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): mentions of family member death, medical procedures, ANGST, hospitalization, references to memory loss

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Note: Before y’all demand my head on a stick for this ending, please note that there is an epilogue and bonus part still to come.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

"Min Yoongi? Jang Sumi?" the doctor asked, carrying a clipboard in his hand. "So, I hear you have some concerns you need to discuss with me?"

You recognized the doctor from when you'd ended up in the hospital after the night you met Yoongi. He seemed to be the only soulmate bonding specialist in the whole city and your stomach turned. You wanted your needles.

"Yes," Yoongi said. "You see, an urgent family matter has come up for Sumi and she has to fly to the US as soon as possible." The doctor nodded. "The issue is that due to my schedule, I can't go with her. I know you said there were exemptions for work, do you think this would cover that?"

"It's hard to know," the doctor said. "It's possible you would have no problems as the conflict involves your work. But, for Sumi, there's nothing obligating her beyond the love for her family. I fear it would be risky. We wouldn't know until Sumi is on the plane and if you both have a reaction, it's likely Sumi wouldn't be able to get to a hospital in time."

"Then, no," Yoongi said. "What are the other options?"

"Wait," you said, touching Yoongi's bicep lightly. "What are the chances I have a reaction on the plane?"

"I'd say a 70% chance you react, 30% you don't. If it'd been over a year since you'd met, it would probably be 50/50. As the years go by, reactions become less likely. At least in the limited experience and research, we have from soulmate couples. Every couple is different."

"I'm willing to take the chance. Maybe we could hire a doctor to fly with me--"

Yoongi's hand shot to grip your thigh cutting off your words as your jeans rubbed against your skin where his fingertips touched. Even with the fabric between his skin and yours, it still felt like sitting too close to a fire. The sparks flying just over your head.

The doctor arched his eyebrow. "There aren't a ton of options. We are researching drugs right now to help curb reactions in situations like this, but since the reactions are individualized in some ways, it makes it hard to develop one drug that will work for all."

"I can come with you," Yoongi said, "It's the only option." You saw in the way his lips were in a slight frown that his thoughts were racing. His voice quieted. "And you'll need me."

"Yoongi, I-I don't know how long I'm going stay. You can't stay forever and I might."

Yoongi's eyebrows rose as his lips fell into a frown. "You want to stay?"

You felt the atmosphere lose color. The vibrant scene slowly turning black and white. Yoongi's hand still rested on your leg like it belonged there.

"I could teach Korean. Do translation work. I don't know. But, I miss my family and knowing things can happen so quickly and I could lose them, I just..." Unlike all the other times, there were no tears. You couldn't cry over this. You wanted to cry, grab the closest objects and fling them at the wall until they dented it, or at least chipped the paint. You wanted to grab Yoongi and kiss him, tear off his shirt, pull on his hair. But you couldn't. The only thing you could do was sit and listen to the doctor say you had to choose.

"Can we talk about this privately?"

"Before you make any decisions," the doctor said. "I should inform you that we have been working on an experimental cure. We haven't tested it on any human subjects yet, but we could use you if you consent. We can't guarantee it will work, but if it does, it would solve your problems. We don't know what side effects would be, but we would keep you for 24 hours for monitoring."

"Is it safe?"

"We believe it is. We've done animal trials and while they don't have soulmate connections like you do, they have not shown any side effects that we're concerned about." The doctor stood up to leave. "I'll give you some time. I know this isn't an easy decision, so take your time."

Once the door closed, you and Yoongi turned towards each other, your knees knocking together. His hands found yours, but you felt his gaze on your face which was angled downward, your eyes focusing on the way his thumb moved slowly over your knuckles.

"Yoongi, I don't know what to do. I need to see my grandma. I wish this wasn't so complicated and I'm scared cause what if the cure doesn't work or it gives us weird side effects. I mean, technically we could die. Yoongi, what do I do? I'm gonna lose my grandma. I-I don't want to lose you too."

"Hey, hey," he said, letting go of your heads and pulling you into his chest. You heard his heart beating against your ear and how his fingers shook slightly as he ran them over your hair. "It's going to be okay. Let's just think about this."

He was silent for a few moments. You didn't even hear the doctors and nurses rushing past the room or the beat of your hearts.

"We were working to sever this anyway. We won't lose each other. I'll still be here for you. You can still call or visit. I'm just concerned if something bad happens with the cure. Are you willing to risk everything for your grandmother?"

"Yes, of course."

“Then, we'll try it. I want you to be happy, Sumi. I want you to be able to see your grandmother, okay?"

You nodded. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"If it's what you want, then I'm sure."

"Yoongi, I'm sorry. I know you--"

"Shh," he said, smoothing down your hair and bunching it up and curling it around his fingers. "Let's just enjoy this last moment, yeah?"

You burrowed into Yoongi's chest. You would truly miss his warmth, the way his heart beat in time with yours, how he noticed when you were anxious, and handed you your needles. You weren't sure someone like him would ever walk into your life again. And here you were, allowing him to walk out.

---

"Thanks for coming," the doctor said, nodding towards Namjoon and Eunji who stood off to the side, sharing furrowed brows and concerned glances between you and Yoongi. "Since we don't exactly know what state they'll be in after this we want to make sure they have someone to look after them after."

While the doctor continued explaining worrisome symptoms and aftercare protocol, Yoongi turned towards you and grabbed your hand, slipping a folded piece of paper into it. You flashed him an odd look before pulling your hand away and unfolding the paper, finding a plane ticket to Los Angeles.

"I've made the arrangements. If you miss that flight, I'll get you on the next."

"Yoongi, you didn't--"

"Yeah, I did. Now, you don't have to worry, okay?

The doctor finished talking to Namjoon and Eunji and turned towards you. "Are you ready? We need to induce a reaction for this to work, so I've made arrangements for one of you to receive the treatment at another hospital nearby. Which one--"

"I'll go." Yoongi got off the bed and met your eyes. You'd already said goodbye, but it didn't feel like enough. There was a chance one or both of you could die. That it wouldn't work at all. There was an even greater chance that it would work and all the things you felt for the man in front of you would dissipate like fog in the afternoon.

You'd miss the way you longed to run your hands through his hair. How your stomach flipped when he smiled at you or the way you felt his touch linger long after he pulled away. The way he could calm you with just a look or how he allowed you to fiddle with his fingers when you didn't have your needles.

"Bye, Sumi. Call me whenever you need to, okay?"

You nodded and clasped your hands together tightly. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to your forehead and left the room before he could look back.

Namjoon met your eyes and offered a sad smile. "Take care, Sumi."

"You too, Namjoon."

Namjoon followed after Yoongi and it was just you, Eunji, and the doctor. "Once her symptoms begin, we'll administer the cure. We'll then just monitor her for any reaction and go from there."

Ten minutes later, it started. You felt the tightness in your chest, sweat pricking at your hairline, and your legs were restless, wanting to move wherever Yoongi was.

"Eunji, hold her hands, help keep her still."

Eunji was hesitant, but she walked over and held your arms flat against the bed. "It's gonna be okay, Sumi. Just breathe, okay? Just keep breathing."

You flinched as you felt the needle in your arm and fluid spilling into your bloodstream. It was hot--not hot enough to burn--but almost. Your heart slowed, but your breathing didn't catch up.

"Sumi, how are you feeling? Are you okay?" the doctor asked. You could vaguely make out the two figures hovering over you. Your vision went black around the edges and your legs went numb. You felt yourself falling and the two figures became smaller and smaller.

---

You woke up. White sheets surrounded you and the room was dark except for the light peeking in from the hallway outside. You heard Eunji in the hallway. It sounded like she was talking on the phone as you didn't hear another voice.

"What do you mean, Namjoon?" Her voice sounded distressed. Worried.

You glanced down at the IV in your arm. Your head hurt and you couldn't remember why you were here or how you got there. How long had you been here?

"He-he's okay, though? I mean, other than--"

Eunji's voice was now hushed. You strained to hear, but the machines connected to you began to beep. Eunji rushed back into the room, flipping on the light.

"Sumi!" Before you could blink she had her head pressed to your chest and was hugging you the best she could without disturbing all the needles and cords attached to your body. "When you passed out I thought you were going to die and I didn't know what was going to do without my best friend."

"Eunji--what--what happened? Who's Namjoon?"

Eunji's face fell. "Oh, uh, that's not important. Let me get the doctor."

---

The doctor examined you. His eyes caught yours, a sad look crossing over them momentarily before he pulled away.

“You seem perfectly healthy," he said. "I'm going to discharge you, but if you start having odd symptoms of any kind get to an emergency room. Okay?"

You nodded, not fully understanding. "Wait, how long has it been? How long have I been here?"

"It's only been a few hours, why?"

"My grandma," you said. "I need to get to the airport and get a ticket and--"

Eunji reached into her purse and pulled out a slip of paper. "You have a ticket. The flight's in a few hours. If you hurry you can make it. I'll send your stuff along later."

"You didn't buy this, did you?"

"No, Yoo--you really don't remember?"

"Eunji, what aren't you telling me?"

Your friend glanced over at the doctor who mouthed something you couldn't make out.

"It's not important right now," Eunji said. "Come on, you need to get to the airport if you want to get to the airport on time."

---

"I'll miss you," you said, pulling Eunji in for a hug. "I'll call you when I can."

"Take it easy, okay? You just got out of the hospital."

"I still don't remember what happened, Eunji. Why can't just tell me? Was it an accident? I must've hit my head."

"The doctor thinks it'd be too stressful on you right now. Maybe I'll tell you someday, okay? Just go be with your grandma."

You nodded, even though you overflowed with questions, something made you feel at peace as you stepped onto the plane and into your window seat. Normally, this is when you'd begin feeling sick. You settled into your seat and pulled your flannel closer around you. You didn't remember owning a flannel with the sleeves cut off. It must be one of Minki's old ones that you'd stolen, but for some reason, it kept you calm as the plane rocketed off the runway and into the air.

THE END

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tocastielandback · 3 years

Text

Take Me Away (Helmut Zemo x F!SE Asian!Plus Size! Reader) [PART 2]

Word Count: 1507

Description: The unassuming prison librarian catches Zemo’s attention. When he escapes, she could take him back to prison. But does she?

Author's Note: The written draft for this looks like a kid's drawing of a tornado. I hope it's all worth it though! I haven't curated a tag list when the reviews were rolling in for part 1, so if I missed you, please let me know. To anyone else who's only stumbling upon this now and wants to follow the story, tell me too!

Warnings: cursing, experimentation, injury resulting in bruising

Tags:

@whoabrekker, @kindledimagines, @s-ara-bel, @viviace, @sorcerersofnyc

(Y/N) put on a black, cup-sleeved blouse and the only black pencil skirt she owned.

Being five feet meant every skirt of that style stopped right around her ankles.

It was a damn miracle she found one that not only circled her knees, but didn't outline her wide waist.

She did her makeup—primer, foundation, black liner, dark red lips—and swept some powder over her round face.

In the mirror, she inspected her oval, glass-like pendant surrounded by a silver backing.

Sky blue.

She did have a good cry the previous night. This time, however, relief didn't present itself.

Unsurprised, (Y/N) parted her hair to the right and shifted her focus on styling it: half up with the adjoining sections braided.

After securing them with a hair tie, she held her bang down over her hairline with her left hand and crossed two bobby pins over the strands with her right.

Stepping into her black flats, she smiled a little. She had something to look forward to, at least.

It's been months since their first meeting. She wondered if her knew. Time was nonexistent where he was, she imagined.

The morning was spent looking up in anticipation whenever someone walked into the library, only to be met with another prisoner, who she would greet curtly.

She hoped her disappointment didn't show. It would have made for some awkward check-outs.

As much as she tried not to think about it, he gave her a sense of comfort like no one has before. Or maybe he was the only constant in her day-to-day, other than her work schedule.

She couldn't bear the thought of being nothing to him. Hell, she most likely was. Why wouldn't she? Because he talked about books and his day with her? He could easily say how much he liked the meatloaf to the lunch lady.

"Hello, (Y/N)."

That accent. Sokovian, she learned only recently.

Her head spun, eyes darted towards the left entrance.

"Zemo!" her mouth drew back in a smile wider than she had all day. "How are you?"

He closed his eyes, pursed his lips and shrugged one shoulder. "Good."

With his hands crossed behind his back, he browsed the display of Banned Books set up across the desk.

"I'd forgotten it was Wednesday," he smiled softly. "It's easy to lose track of time here."

She didn't know why, but she felt compelled to ask him. Perhaps the need for validation, like confirmation that she had, in fact, locked all her doors before leaving for the day.

"Zemo?" (Y/N) spoke.

His head turned, thin lips flat and forehead bunched up.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

Just as the last syllable escaped her, she wanted to pull the string of words back. Again, who was to say he didn't act the same to anyone else? Why did she care so much anyway?

But he didn't laugh nor leer with arrogance.

He sauntered over to the desk, eyes on the floor. Probably mulling over a response.

When he met her gaze, his curl fell back into place. "You're very kind. I find that the longer I've been here, the more I lose my humanity."

Silence befell the air between them.

His hands were folded over the counter and he pointed his thumbs towards her. "You give me back that humanity."

(Y/N) didn't know what she expected, but it certainly wasn't that.

"I know a little bit of what that's like," her bottom lip quivered.

For a second, she thought she could hear the beeping of a monitor she was hooked to five years ago.

Tormented screams echoed from another room down the hall and the pendant on her neck burned her tan skin. Instinctively, her hand jolted in an attempt to stop the stinging sensation, but the restraints prevented her from doing so.

Meanwhile, the man in a lab coat who stood over her shook his head and chuckled at the screen at the foot of her bed before he scribbled on a clipboard.

Tears lined her eyes. She'd given up putting up a brave face long ago. After all, the pendant would just give her away.

"(Y/N)?"

Zemo's voice brought her back.

She blinked and felt something warm on her hand: it was his.

He shyly pulled it back when she spotted it.

"I was... I was trying to shake you," he stammered. "Is everything okay?"

(Y/N)'s mouth morphed into a small, curved line. "Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. I just spaced out."

He frowned and paused.

"I'm sorry," he pinched his palm and back of his hand. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, no," (Y/N) insisted. "Just some bad memories came up."

"Do they happen often?" Zemo wondered aloud.

She held her pendant between her thumb and index finger. "I try not to let it. I keep it to myself. I know it's not a good thing, but I have no one to talk to."

He doesn't want to hear this, she scolded herself mentally. Shut up.

"Well, I'm here," Zemo said. "I... don't have anyone either."

"Thank you," she looked away in shame.

He rolled his lips in, inhaled then exhaled, rolling his lips back out. "Someone as caring as yourself deserves the same treatment she gives."

Schmidt, the guard at the door called to Zemo. "Hey. Five minutes."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened and she leaned back. "Oh, I've taken up your time!"

The inmate gently reassured her. "I want to renew my book. The rest of the time, I wanted with you."

Her cheeks flushed, (Y/N) pulled a form from a manila folder nestled in a filing cabinet.

After filling it out, he returned it to her.

"I'll see you on Friday," he waved, worry still on his face.

Following a shy goodbye from (Y/N), she pulled up the spreadsheet on the library computer to update the log.

The walls of the empty corridor amplified the clomp, clomp, clomp of her flats as she made her way to lunch.

(Y/N) swung her black, leather wristlet by the strap in time with her steps.

Amidst the sounds she was making, she heard some others.

There was a thud and running footsteps the closer she got to whatever fell.

She discovered it wasn't what fell, but rather who.

"Hey! Are you o—" (Y/N) called to the person but gasped when she saw the head of straight, brown hair. "Zemo!"

She fast-walked to him and knelt down by his head, which was turned to the side.

"Zemo?" she shook his shoulder.

When he didn't respond, she took his cheeks in her hands so his nose pointed to the ceiling.

Her jaw dropped at the sight of a black eye.

"Fuck!" she hissed and moved so her knees brushed over his locks.

Though she wasn't strong physically, she was able to prop his shoulders up and lay his head on her lap.

She put her wallet down and exhaled an 'okay...', her upper back tensed and relaxed. With the fingertips of her left hand resting on the edge of Zemo's bruised eye, she reached for her walkie talkie clipped to the waistband of her skirt and radioed the incident in.

The center of her pendant emitted a white glow. When the light got brighter, his uninjured eye squinted. (Y/N) was too focused on answering security's questions and reading off the number on Zemo's shirt sleeve to notice.

"Ah..." she groaned and winced. "Okay, thanks."

Once she lowered the device and returned it to her skirt, she checked the status of her care.

"Shit…" she massaged the socket of her left eye with the knuckle of her right index finger.

"(Y/N)?" came a familiar rasp from her lap.

Through her pendant's rays, she saw the sliver of a brown eye staring back at her.

"Shh," Zemo's savior held a finger to her lips. "Help is on the way."

When she could make out the forms of two guards at the end of the hall, she took her hand off his eye, subsequently killing the light from the glass dome hanging from the velvet band on her neck.

"We'll take it from here," one of the men in uniform nodded at the librarian and helped Zemo up.

When he was back on his feet, he stood perfectly, much to the guards' amazement.

Had it not been for the red splotch lining his socket, they wouldn't have guessed he was just knocked out.

Upon closer inspection, the second guard saw the bruised eye open.

Zemo's brows came together in confusion. He touched the affected area and felt no pain.

After a second of stunned silence, the two men talked him into going to the infirmary to get checked out.

He may feel fine, they urged, but he still looked in bad shape.

"Come on," the first guard held the prisoner by the arm and walked towards the same doors he arrived in with his partner.

Zemo glanced over his shoulder, where (Y/N) went the opposite direction, her fingers massaging her brow bone.

#The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Daniel Brühl #Helmut Zemo #Baron Zemo #Baron Helmet Zemo #Helmut Zemo x reader #my fics #mine

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dishonestkilla · 4 years

Text

Hate Me

This is a very short headcanon I thought of while listening to the song below.

TW: Angst, language, NSFW, 18+ content, mentions of violence, smut, toxic relationship, nasty smut it's nasty so read at ur ownnnnnnnn risk

Pairing: Drug Dealer!ReaderAU × Dabi

words: 3k

There was a thick silence in the dark alley where they stood. The only sound being the sound of tobacco burning on the other side of the cancer stick that was placed between her plush lips, the smoke she inhaled being freed the moment she breathed out, letting the toxins out towards his furious face.

Teal eyes burnt through her soul, shooting daggers at her. If a gaze could kill, she would've been long dead.

"So, that is all you are? A petty criminal?" The question was more rhetorical than something that actually needed to be asked. Dabi never knew what she actually did, hell, he now wanted to know if he ever actually was aware of who she was..But now, all that he could feel was a slice of anger blinding his sight.

"Yeah," She shrugged, still unfazed by his shaking figure and in one second, she could've sworn that a blue flame sparked on the surface of his scarred face but being the stubborn woman, the warning sign of his rage was ignored.

To her, his wrath was not justified nor was it plausible. This was her life, it had always been. Just because she let him spend a night here and there, caressed the side of his rough face, kissed his lips tenderly and loved him dearly, holding him close whenever she felt like breaking, it didn't mean that he could interfere in her business life.

"You have been lying to me all this time? Staged working at Kurogiri's bar for what? To get your hands on some filthy money?? Is that it? Money? Is that all you care for? Don't you think that our world has enough problems, wouldn't you like to be part of something that is actually worth a thing?" Dabi's voice raised slightly at the end, his hands flying up in dissatisfaction as he eyed her, but the sight he saw was anything but pleasant.

Her face had been contorted into a crooked smile, head tilted go the side just a little, orbs darker than usual. That grimace made him so mad, he could've sworn a vein in his neck popped from how tense he had become.

"Listen to yourself, acting all big and tough. Fucking hell," Y/N blurted, a big puff of smoke leaving her throat as she laughed out, "So what if I am not the Messiah. So what if I am not like you, a saint, a chosen one. I have been doing this ever since I left home, if you don't like it, you don't have to be going out with me." She continued, face turning serious, her orbs now igniting a new flame in themselves.

"You don't have to love me, if you don't want to accept me," her voice was barely audible when she said that but knowing Dabi, Y/N was sure he heard her.

"Why don't you let me help you then? Because I do love you, fuck, I love you so much, isn't it proof enough that I'd put myself as a villain at risk to be exposed to some junkie that would die to sell me to the police? Just to be able to he-" before the real eyed male could continue, he was interrupted, Y/N now also tensed up, lips quivering, she was mad and it was evident.

"I don't need your damn help, you bastard!" And in the next second, her hand had made contact with the surface of his face, leaving a red print behind.

"I owe you nothing and don't want to either," she hissed, jaw clenching, hands balled into fists as her gaze was now hunting him down.

"Owe me? Who in the fuck told you that in a relationship people owe each other things?!"

"Who in the fuck dated you, so that you know now?!" Her words weren't little knives into his hearts, no, it was like her ever so soft hands wrapped around the organ itself, crushing it inside of his chest. Just like that.

"You don't mean that," He whispered, now suddenly vulnerable, hurt and saddened.

"Yes, I do. I do, because you always claim to know everything, mess up my business, try to tell me what the fuck to do, and then dare to teach me on relationships. Reality check, Dabi. You're a villain, a burnt, brutal, scary villain. Nothing more." She yelled at this point. Tears welling up in her eyes, entire body shaking in frustration as her voice made it's way to the ears of the black haired man.

His lips were shaking, and now it wasn't only anger and sadness inside of his guts, it was something much worse.

Dabi wanted to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze. Hard.

But no, not like one of the times where he had her against the wall, hips plowing into hers, one nipple between his fingers as she moaned loudly at his ministrations, head against the concrete. Not like those times where he let out his steam on her, ravaging her body, leaving purple marks on her satin alike skin that he had adorned with love bites moments before.

It wasn't one of the many moments in which she submitted to him with a mewl because of how roughly his digits burned her as a sign of affection alongside of his length caressing her velvety walls, bruising thrusts being the source for the nasty clapping and squelching noises that filled the room of the empty bathroom stall in some random club.

This was different, he wanted to cut her oxygen supply for good, watch as her face started to grimace, eyes rolling back as he took her life ever so slowly before burning her perfect body in his flames, feeling her warmth one last time before extinguishing her.

Without even noticing, he had moved forward, trapping her between the brick barricade behind her, caging her between his arms while holding her down with his own weight.

The way she looked at him caused a low growl to erupt his chest, a rush of heat running down his spine as he watched her with intent eyes.

Now, it was his turn to smirk twistedly at Y/N as the girl gulped. It wasn't like she was weak, the opposite, her quirk was one to be feared at least to say, after all, she could manipulate other people's nerves to bend at her own will, if she wanted to, she could cause him severe pain, but instead of that, she let him pin her down with his eyes. Despite of being powerful, she was fairly aware of Dabi's high pain tolerance as well as his immense strength. Y/N wasn't stupid enough to try and fight the male when she was intoxicated at that.

"Let me show you what you do to me.."

Before she could even protest, his lips had been attached to her sweet spot right below her right ear, a meal leaving her plump lips, melting at his touch and the way his calloused hands traveled the surface of her body. Arms now around his neck as she pulled him impossibly closer, causing Dabi to snicker against her throat while leaving wet kisses on her neck, marking her in his wake.

"Look at you, already a whimpering mess and I haven't even started yet," he rasped, now standing up straight again to meet her desperate gaze.

"Shut up," the girl retorted with sass, now it was her turn to tease him.

Lips colliding with his own, the taste of nicotine and whiskey flooding her senses, everything a blur and the reason on why they had started to banter long forgotten, the only thing mattering being their lust and desire for one another.

While his fingers tugged at the strands of her locks, her own had started to fumble with his belt, haphazardly ripping away the leather piece before she slid down the wall to kneel in front of his growing erection.

The heels of her shoes now meeting the wall as he had granted little space so she could do whatever she wanted to.

Soft pecks placing themselves against his restrained bulge before his hands wrapped themselves around her hair, making her look up at his gaze, "Get to it," he ordered and Y/N didn't have to be told twice before pulling his pants and boxers down to below his thighs, just enough to grant access to the angry tip of his cock, precum already leaking down the slit.

Experimentally she licked a stripe from his base to the tip, tasting his slightly pineapple flavoured release.

Yes, pineapple. She had forced him to eat the fruit regularly, if he wanted her lips around his length and his shaft down her throat.

One hand wrapped around him, thumb and index finger not able to touch, she started to jerk off the tall individual in front of herself, eyes focused on his leaking tip, paying attention to the area with kitten licks.

"Did you forget how to suck dick? Do I have to remind you?" He snapped at her, a sneaky smirk on his face.

Not wanting to play his petty game, the female let her head down till her nose met with his pubic bone, irises blown wide with lust at the sight of him groaning, his head lulled back at the immense pressure of feeling the walls of her throat inviting him.

Repeating the action a few times she then proceeded to suck down his erection with quick yet impactful bobbing motions, cheeks hollowing around him, practically milking him for whatever he was about to give her.

The two were fighting, they hated each other at times and probably had been at the verge of killing the other more than just once, however, they also knew each other more than anyone else did and not only physically but also emotionally. Now, the knowledge of one another's body and sweet spots were the advantage of their frankly scandalous little escapade in some dark alleyway where she had been dealing some of her 'happy pills' and 'devil's lettuce' the latter being what she was high on herself. The only difference being the passion and burning desire that fueled her intoxicated mind to wander even more. 'Test the waters and play with fire', as she liked to say.

One of his scarred hands darted out into her hair, nimble fingers digging in as he took a fist of her locks into his palm, pulling her head down his entire shaft, the intrusion causing a soft gag to escape her throat, eyes shooting up to meet his mischievous gaze upon her, the sight of his lazy smirk yet fiery orbs sending a jolt straight to her core.

He had regained control of what was going down, his hips now ramming into her mouth as if it was a fleshlight for him to abuse. The mere sight of how her pretty lips wrapped around his tip just to be parted more whilst he forced her down onto his length, the way she salivated all over him, drool now dribbling down onto her exposed cleavage that was peeking up from underneath the flimsy top she wore, her eyes slowly watering as she laid her hands on either side of his thick thighs. It was mesmerizing, if he could he would take a picture of it.

Finally satisfied with one last thrust into her sloppy cavern, the male didn't wait any longer before pulling her up to her wobbly legs, turning her around, he pushed her face into the wall behind herself, moving behind her as his lips latched onto her neck again, leaving bite marks here and there while his hands made quick work of her leather pants, pulling them down her thighs hastily, groaning at the sight of her lacy panties, "Seems like you've expected this, yeah? Getting fucked by no other than your man in a nasty alleyway." Making her sneer at him, she was quick to reply to his comment, "My man? Darling, you're not even a man in the first place!" That was it.

That was what caused his next moves to be crude and rougher than usual.

Pinning her arms behind her back as he bent her over against the wall, hips plowing into her, intruding her insides to spread for him, grunting as her wet, spongy walls clenched around him.

Without further do, he started to slam into her with slow, yet deep thrusts, the force of each thrust causing her entire body to jolt forward, pushing her against the wall even more.

His moves never faltered as he pulled out of her so merely his tip was coated in her juices, forcing his entire dick into her repeatedly before he set a steady pace of in and out.

Dabi was taking his time judging on how he dragged out the moment by changing between steady thrusts and reckless ramming.

One hand that supported her hips whilst she moaned and mewled at her insides being rearranged by him over and over, lifted, igniting a fire for a second before raining down onto each ass cheek of the girl in front of himself, leaving red hand prints that would stay for quite some time, marking her squeal at the force, the rough treatment being painful yet so pleasant that she couldn't help but moan out incoherent words as his hips sped up to an erratic pace, knocking the air out of her lungs.

"Yeah? What was that? Who isn't your man, huh? Say that again, I want to hear you say it." The way his voice seemed so unfazed caused her to roll back her hips like some sex-crazed animal, whimpering at the lack of treatment when he suddenly pulled out just to forcefully pull her flush against himself.

However, Y/N wasn't that fragile, with that being said, a smirk crept onto the female's flushed face, "Not you-" Her answer caused a low growl emit from the male, as he pulled her back by her hair, now back arched even more as he groaned against her ear, voice raspy, the hand that held her wrists wrapping around her throat, cutting the air supply of the girl, hips assaulting her again, the sound of skin slapping filling the quiet alley.

As her walls clenched yet again caused by him abusing her cunt for more than half an hour without letting her release, each time pulling out just to make sure she'd get the message of who was in charge. At this point she was shaking, her jaw slack while tears ran down her cheeks, staining her face.

"Come on, baby, tell everyone here who your man is and I will fuck you until you cum all over my cock, little slut," He could swear that he felt her grow even tighter around his length as he degraded her yet again.

"D-D-Dabi.." her voice was a mere whisper and not enough for the hot headed man, shaking his head as his hips came to a halt again. Denying her release all over.

"What, princess, I couldn't hear you and I bet no one else could either. Use your pretty brain if you want to cum."

Those words finally pulled her trigger as she started to beg the wanted villain, "H-hah~ Please, Dabi, I am yours, all yours and - you're my m-man, please make me cum.." She pleaded, voice desperate and in a hoarse tone.

Pleased with her begging, the black haired criminal picked up his recklessly rough pace again, one hand creeping to her front as he started to rub her clit in circles, and all of that combined to the low growl and grunts coming from him while biting her neck was enough to make white flash in her vision, body trembling as her release gushed out of her abused hole, screaming out his name.

Vigorously shaking in his arms as he worked her furthermore until he released his seed into her, painting her walls white whilst she milked him.

"I've got you, I've got you." The man cooed, caressing her body as he slowly let her calm down before pulling out of her, helping her redress as he pulled his pants up himself, watching her lean against the wall, hair tousled and mascara running down her eyes as he held out a hand, wiping away the black streaks lovingly, her head automatically leaning into his touch.

"I hate everything about you," she mumbled, making him chuckle, cocking an eyebrow at her as he watched her put a blunt between those lips of hers, lighting up the piece before inhaling the toxins inside of it, eyes rolling to the back of her head in comfort.

Moving forward he took the piece from her, he grabbed her jaw after she took another big hit, kissing her softly, tongues and smoke mixing together before he took her hand and lead her to his nearby apartment, with her just strolling after him like a lost puppy just to be cuddled up on his chest moments later upon her arrival in his shabby little space, arms around him while smoking yet another blunt.

Looking up at his turquoise eyes that held so many unreadable emotions, she let out a huff, pouting at him before laying her cheek flat against the surface of his sternum again.

"I didn't mean that," She slowly admitted, looking up to see him smirk a little, man if she could've just punched him. Well, she could..But shouldn't..Unless..

"I know that you were just Dic-"

"Don't say it, I swear to god, do not say it!"

"Dickrived,"

"Ugh! you're such a dork."

Both laughed at the silly comment Dabi made proudly, his entire chest puffing up before he embraced her with his arms, "Am I really such a monster?" He suddenly asked before she unexpectedly kissed his lips with passion, in an attempt to quiet him down.

"Shush, no you aren't. And even if you were.. You are my monster." Those were the last few words he heard before they both drifted off to sleep, never knowing what would expect them next.

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

A/N: This took longer than I thought, phew. Hope y'all thirsty ones liked it hehe.

#angst #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #dabi smut #dabi angst #mha dabi #dabi x female reader #dabi x reader #dabi smau #mha smut #bnha smut #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero headcanons #boku no hero au

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