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queen-haq · 3 years

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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 1

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Words: ~2200 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to any kind of emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

~~~~~~

You met Billy Russo at an industry conference two years ago. While you didn’t know much about military security at that time, your specialty was online security and both of you ended up attending a lot of the same events. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, magnetic and a total flirt, and it was obvious he was aware of his good looks and used it to his benefit. You didn’t sleep with him during the conference. Something told you his dance card was already full every night. So, instead, you exchanged contact information and left it at that.

A year later you were hired as a consultant for one of Anvil’s direct competitors and moved to New York City. When Billy called you to meet for drinks, you knew exactly what he was up to. You were no fool. He wanted information on your employer and thought he could charm you into spilling secrets. You told him it wouldn’t work over a second drink, and he simply laughed.

You didn’t fuck him until a month later. The official reason for the delay was conflicting schedules but mostly it was due to insecurity on your part. To the outside world you were attractive in the kind of way that snuck up on people. You weren’t the type to turn heads, like Billy was, and your fucked up childhood had ensured you didn’t let anyone in easily. It wasn’t until a pep talk from your best friend, Davina, about enjoying Billy Russo for what he was – a fun time and nothing more - did you finally decide to take the leap.

Fucking Billy had been unlike anything you’d experienced before. You’d had sex before of course, but not the kind of sex that made you lose all of your inhibitions and scream and come for hours. Billy knew how to coax you out of your shell and demand things from him you’d never even knew you wanted. You fucked him in your apartment, his penthouse, the underground parking lot, in his car and that was all within the first week. He had opened up a whole new world for you and you were willing to try anything and do anything he wanted. After that first night together, all the walls you’d built around your heart collapsed. Your best friend warned you repeatedly that great sex made people confuse lust for love, that she was worried you were falling for Billy, but you told her you were an adult and could handle yourself.

Of course that had been bullshit.

It had been been almost a year now since you and Billy were sleeping together and you had no idea where you stood with him. You didn’t even know if he was fucking other women, though a part of you suspected he was. If he was with you two nights a week that left five other nights to be with someone else. It clawed at you, knowing you weren’t enough for him. It heightened all of your insecurities, made you believe that you were worthless and ugly just like your abusive father used to scream at you. Of course you’d never tell Billy that. The minute he suspected you were getting attached to him emotionally he’d bolt, he’d already warned you of that. So you kept your thoughts to yourself and let your pain eat away at your insides when he wasn’t with you.

At least that had been the plan until you saw him on a date with Madani.

You were at a restaurant with some of your coworkers, enjoying happy hour, when you got up to use the bathroom and spotted Billy sitting in the other corner of the room. The breath rushed out of your lungs, your knees felt weak. They were enraptured with each other, legs intertwined, heads close, a true couple. You knew who she was because he’d let it slip he’d been working with Homeland on something and, you being you, you’d looked her up. Her pictures didn’t do her justice, because she was stunning. And exactly the type of woman Billy would be proud to be seen with.

After you and Billy started sleeping together, Billy rarely took you out. Sure you guys would go to some hole-in-the-wall places or fast food joints but never to fine restaurants, not like this one. You never complained because why waste time when you could be busy fucking his brains out? Except now that you saw him and Madani sitting only a few feet away from you, and he was proudly holding her hand and being openly affectionate, you realized it had all been by design. He never took you out because he was ashamed of you. If you had been prettier, thinner, sexier, taller – anything but what you already are – he’d want you as more than a fuck buddy. He’d want you as his girlfriend.

It was a bitter pill to swallow but at least now you knew the truth and that meant you were back in control of your life.

As much as it hurt, it felt good to know you were the ones making decisions about your future again and they didn’t revolve around Billy. No longer would you be obsessing over what he wanted, what he was doing, if he’d like a certain thing on you or not, if he was fucking someone else or not. You wouldn’t spend hours researching Billy like you did in the past and finding out things about him that he never knew you knew. No, now you were finally free.

And it was time to move on.

Tonight was the night of the fundraising gala. Your company had purchased a table and the CEO of your company had personally extended an invite for you to attend. Based on a conversation you had with Billy three weeks ago, you knew he would also be attending to represent Anvil. When you’d first broached the subject you’d hoped he’d asked you to attend as his date – but he hadn’t. At the time you’d reassured herself the reasons were practical. It would be weird for Billy to be sitting at a competitor’s table (if he went with you) and you would risk offending your boss if you sat at Billy’s. But now you knew the truth.

So, tonight, you were dressed to the nines in a curve-hugging gold dress with a plunging neckline which emphasized all of your assets. Your heels, which cost more than the dress itself, were over five inches high and made you feel like an Amazonian goddess when you sauntered in them.

When you walked into the ballroom with Davina in your arms that night, you felt confident in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

The thing about you that a lot of people didn’t know was that you were fucking fantastic at owning a room – despite your insecurities. You may not be beautiful but you were charming. You were really great at getting strangers to open up, people were drawn to you. It was one of the reasons your CEO promoted you so quickly after a few months. Your job, initially at least, was meant to be a technical role but when you were invited to a party with potential clients you had schmoozed them so easily they had signed the contract within the week. And then you had impressed them with your actual technical skills which only cemented their positive impression of you.

So, yeah, you were in your element and you were ready to charm.

“What table are we?” Davina asked.

“14,” you said. Of course your eyes were automatically drawn to Anvil’s table on the seating chart. 157. A safe distance from your table, which meant there was a good chance you two wouldn’t even be crossing paths in the grand ballroom. You didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or disappointed.

A while later you were circulating around the north bar, chatting up with some potential clients that your boss had wanted you to pay particular attention to when you saw Dinah Madani. She was in one of those slinky, maroon satin dresses, her hair up, and you felt that surge of jealousy go through you again. She was probably here as Billy’s guest considering this wasn’t the kind of events Homeland agents typically attended.

“Y/N!” You turned to find your boss waving you towards him.

Glad for the distraction, you picked up two glasses of champagne from a nearby server and headed towards him, handing him his drink. Your boss was chatting to a group of people you vaguely recognized, but the smile on your face stiffened when you spotted Billy amongst them.

Fuck. He looked good in a tux. His hair was slicked back, and you were struck with the sharp memory of fucking him in his car one night with your fingers roughly fisting his hair. God, you loved his hair, loved running your fingers through the silky strands.

Billy’s eyebrow quirked up when he saw you and you wondered what he thought of you so dressed up. No. It didn’t matter what he thought of you. Fuck him, you reminded yourself.

“Y/N is our new Executive Director,” your boss said, introducing you to the group. “Her division has shown a significant growth ever since she joined Valiant.”

You smiled, shaking hands with everyone. When it was Billy’s turn, you reached out to clasp his hand, not betraying any emotion even though you felt an immediate charge upon touching him. He gave you an amused smile, like he was enjoying the charade.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said. “And don’t listen to Roger. Valiant was doing fine on its own.”

“But Y/N has definitely changed the way we do some of our regular operations. I didn’t realize how archaic this industry’s systems and processes were until she came along.”

“Sounds like I may need to poach Y/N from Valiant,” Billy said with a smug smile, his eyes fixed on you.

“Anvil couldn’t afford me,” you reciprocated with equal smugness.

Roger laughed, patting your arm. “We’re not giving her up without a fight.”

“Clearly,” Billy replied.

The expression on Billy’s face was new to you, you had no idea what he was thinking but you also didn’t want to waste any more of your time obsessing over him.

Roger leaned in closer, lowering his voice so others wouldn’t hear him. “Table 35. Those were the clients I told you about.” As you glanced over to the table he mentioned, your eyes met Billy’s. He was watching you intently, still with the unreadable mask on his face.

Ignoring Billy, you flashed a confident smile up at Roger. “Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

You turned back to the group, your gaze skipping past Billy’s. “It was a pleasure to meet you all. I hope you have a great evening.” Bidding everyone goodbye, you headed to Table 35.

***

An hour later you were on the terrace, enjoying the cold, crisp New York air that rattled your bone. You were exhausted. Networking took a lot out of you and now you just wanted to go home and soak in the tub. Davina, a natural extrovert, was still in the ballroom, flirting and socializing but you needed a few minutes of privacy so you had snuck outside to compose yourself.

“Congratulations on the promotion.”

Your jaw clenched as soon as you heard Billy’s voice from behind you. You turned around to look at him as he swaggered forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

“You never told me,” he remarked.

You shrugged your shoulders. “We didn’t tell each other a lot of things.”

“I get the distinct feeling you’re pissed at me but I don’t know why. Care to fill me in?”

“What reason would I have to be pissed at you?”

“You tell me. I’ve called you-”

“You’ve never called me,” you interjected.

“Fine. Texted. Whatever.” Billy took a step closer, forcing you to look up at him. Even in your fucking stilettos, he towered over you. “You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks now. Why the ghosting?”

“I just think it’s time I move on.”

Oh, Billy didn’t like that. His eyes grew darker, so dark they were almost pitch-black. “Really? You’ve got the next one lined up already?”

As much as you wanted to believe he was jealous, you knew that wasn’t the case. “We both know you don’t give a fuck about me so drop the fake jealousy bit.” You tried to walk past him but he grabbed your arm and pulled you close. You felt his angry breath skim over your skin as he glared down at you. “Let me go, Billy.”

“Why?” he snarled. “So you can go fuck Roger?”

“You really expect me to believe you’re jealous of me seeing someone else?” you snapped back. “Or is it because it’s Roger? He’s more successful than you, he’s your competitor, his company has been taking all the contracts you’ve been fighting for and now he’s got you beat in the one area you thought you excelled at. Fucking.” You angled forward on purpose, holding his gaze. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you go fuck Roger and leave me out of it?” You smiled up at him. “Or does Madani not let you stray?”

Understanding dawned on Billy’s face. “So that’s what this is about.”

Part Two

A/N - This is my first reader insert fic. Hope you guys enjoyed it. If you’d like me to tag you, please leave a comment or DM me.

If you created this GIF, please let me know so I can give proper credit :)

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo imagine #the punisher #reader insert #ben barnes #my fics

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harveywritings92 · 3 years

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BNHA scenario: You can’t feel pain

You were born with a heightened reflex quirk but you were also born with a very rare birth defect called chromosome 6 deletion, that causes you to not feel pain, hunger or fatigue, and you have like zero sense of fear & self preservation , your boyfriend only knows about your Quirk, you've kept your medical history to yourself, until you have an accident and he notices something off and start asking questions!

=======================

Dabi: He hadn't see you in a couple days and got worried, he then got a call from you asking to take you to the slums walk-in clinic, (I like to think, that the villains have whole a network of black market doctors that sympathize with them and run pop-up clinics, you have to have a password to to know where and how get in.) He checked his burner phone for a pop-up clinic and found one near by.

He got to your location and was stunned when he saw your right arm with a large knife jammed into it and a dead guy on the ground sporting a broken neck, He checked out your arm and winced realizing he couldn't pull it out without causing you anymore damage, He then examine your face, expecting tears, but... you seemed more annoyed by this whole situation then anything, Dabi was expecting you to be crying and whining at him to stop poking and moving your arm around... He thought you were in shock at first, but something was nagging at him that this wasn't normal.

Dabi was silent the entire way to the clinic, his eyes were burning holes into the back of your head, when you both arrived... and the first words the guard said to you was. "Y/n back again, for what? out of pills?" he sighed as you narrowed your eyes at the idiot and raised your injured arm up to show him, his jaw dropped and opened up immediately letting you both in. "What did he mean by that?" Dabi's voice was tense suddenly speaking up, "Why do you need pills?" You stiffened obviously hesitant to say anything, knowing full well Dabi doesn't like people keeping secrets from him!

"Just wait for Dr. Yuhei to come..."

"You're on first name bases with the staff now too?"

"...Dabi."

"..."

The cremator crossed his arms as a middle age man came in looking very happy to see her! "Y/n? what the damage today dislocation? burn damage, (cue Dabi flinching) road rash, broken bones..." His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas as he oh and awed at seeing the knife lodged in your arm. "Ha! you got knifed! I love it!" he exclaimed jubilantly while slapping his knee as he took out his tools.

Dabi just looked at this man like he was mad as a March hare! "What fuck is wrong with you?!" he demanded out getting the doctor's attention, it took a moment for the man to respond.

"Oh! Are you the boyfriend I've been hearing so much about!" the cremator's brows furrowed as Yuhei shook his hand congratulating Dabi for finding a real diamond in the rough! "Not many doctors can say they've worked on a patient with Chromosome 6 deletion!" the raven haired man blinked incredulously. "Chromo what?" now it was the doctor's turn to be confused. "She didn't tell...You didn't tell him?" he watched your face and saw your fraught expression.

"Huh...Well I'll be. That's certainly new!"

The doctor hummed before telling Dabi what was up about your condition, your boyfriend kept a neutral face but inside his emotions were churning. "Her reluctance to inform you of this...is probably to closes adduce to fear I've ever seen her display." Your face felt hot as you stared at Dabi expecting to him storm out instead, he just watched as the doctor pulled the knife out of your arm in fixed you with no anesthetic or pain-killers , Yuhei informed you that the knife had cracked the bone so you had wear a sling for a couple weeks, then reminded you to change your bandages properly, then handed you a refill of melatonin.

The walk back home was awkward as hell Dabi had yet to say anything... Before you reached your safehouse you felt Dabi fingers grab your jacket sleeve while keeping his eyes on the ground. "Listen... this thing you have, did I ever hurt you?" You cocked a brow bemused before recalling Yuhei asking you about your injuries, he mentioned burns... and realized where Dabi was going with this, had he burnt you any given point and not known about it due to you not noticing or not telling him.

You really wanted to say no... You really did! but accidents happen. "Not on purpose..." He winced hearing this as you continued. "sometimes during sex or when you're in a combat high." You reach up and patted him on the head making him flinch before relaxing into your touch. "If it'll keep you sane I'll tell you if I get hurt when we go on a run." Dabi hummed holding you close to him, needless to say the cremator became a tad more wary and protective of you during and after missions insisting he check your body over any injuries you hadn't noticed before leaving.

=====================

Hawks: "Can you feel that?" a Nurse asks baffled as You let out a bored sigh as she and the doctor reset your left leg. "No." you huffed for the umpteenth time, wanting to leave the damn hospital already! but Keigo insisted you needed the hospital, cos your leg was swollen and turning purple after really, rough fight with a villain who had gotten a hold of you by the leg and toss you off like a rag-doll as a snapped echoed through the battle field!

I didn't take long for you to figure out your femur was broken and you were a sitting duck! until Endeavor and Hawks showed up they beat the villain, then noticed you sitting in the road with your left leg in your hand hanging limply in your grasp like a wet noddle!

Your lack of impulse reaction caused them to think you'd gone into shock! Keigo quickly gathered you up flew to the nearest hospital! Telling you not panic everything was gonna be fine, you were gonna be alright! If only he knew the whimpering you were making wasn't from crying, but from laughing at him!

After the docs had reset your leg (with no meds.) and put it in a cast again without any medication, you rolled your wheelchair out into the hall in time to see the doctor telling your fiancée about your one a billion condition! You can see how nervous the blond was he almost seemed skeptical, Hawks asked the doctor if he was overexaggerating a bit? "...I don't think you get it Hawks! this condition so rare that only 40 cases have ever been recorded globally!" you felt your stomach twist... this was definitely not how you wanted Keigo to find out about this. Your original plan had been to sit him down some time next week and tell him about it!

You were brought out of your thoughts by a someone's gaze burning in to your head, you looked up and met Keigo's analyzing gaze as he observed your condition, not in a bed, not hook to an I.V. and certainly not under the influence of any sort of pain medicine... He seemed a little pale as he approached you. "Hey... can we talk?" he asked you nodded as the two of you got on the elevator to the roof. You could feel him still leering at you as you arrived at your stop.

"So..wha- what are you doing?!" You asked watching Keigo pinching your arm hard! and realized he was trying to invoke a reaction, but it was useless task as all it did was annoy you, this was the first thing people do when they find out about your chromosome 6 deletion, checking and seeing if you were faking it, Keigo felt panic bubble in his belly as he observed your reaction... or rather your lack of reaction. "Keigo..." You yelped suddenly feeling something tickling you under you chin, causing you to squirm and whimper as you tried not to burst out giggling.

You looked and saw the feather necklace Keigo had given you to be the culprit. "St-stop Keigo! stop!" When he heard you laugh, the blond relaxed, when the doc said you couldn't feel pain... he started wondering if your other senses were numb too, *of course that would be dumb!* he thought thinking back on how you react during sex and how you were acting now, pretty told him that everything else running fine. "Why didn't you tell me about this Chromosome thing?" You pretty much explained how you were, well... scared wasn't the right word, as you have no sense of the feeling, it was more like you were nauseous that his reaction would be negative...

Hawk looked at you wide eyed. "Wait, you...can't feel fear?" He asked curiously you nodded explaining that you lack of pain has pretty much dampened your instinctive sense of self preservation, which why you tend to go on for so long in a fight even when things get dicey... "So that whimpering on the way over." you nodded. "I was trying not to laugh..." You said bluntly Hawks went oh then curiously asked if he had accidently hurt you during intimate moments?

You were straight with him, he may have gone a little overboard during ruts, but nothing serious. Keigo didn't seem to like this answer. "Hey look at me." you huffed making gold eyes met your [y/ec] eyes. "I know you'd never hurt me on purpose, and if it makes you feel better you can check me over personally and pull me off patrol if you think somethings not right, does that work for you?" you waited as Hawks thought this over before nodding, The next day neither You nor Keigo were prepared for the tabloids headline: #2 Hero Hawks engaged to Bionic woman! You both cringed at the tacky tile!

=====================

Bakugou: "Stop you idiot!" Katsuki shouted as he watched you get up after one his explosions had sent you flying and crashing into one of the simulation buildings on the training field, as you looked around bemused as everyone was panicking, Toshinori aka your dad and Aizawa came up to you worried, the black haired teacher used his scarf as a bandage on you profusely bleeding head... which you just noticed. "Get a stretcher!" the teacher ordered.

"I don't need one I can wal-" Bakugou cut you off. "Get on the fucking stretcher Y/n!" You robotically obeyed as the medical team carried you to Recovery-Girl, who just shook her head when she saw you come in, she knows about your condition. "Y/n back again today, I'm started to wonder if you and Midoriya are related?" she teased causing you sweat-drop as Bakugou listened intently, and was very confuse when the old lady said this wasn't your first visit today....

"Oi, what exactly was she talkin' about?" the blonde huffed eyeing you suspiciously and was put off by you lack of reaction over your injuries. It didn't take a doctor to know that the knockback from his explosion should've cracked your skull and may have also broken your back, when you hit that building. "Oh, I had a little fall earlier, nothing to worry about." you said nonchalantly Your dad who was trying to keep himself from coughing up blood on the other hand spoke up. "I wouldn't call getting hit by a car a "Little fall" Y/n." Katsuki's eyes widened, oh if looks could kill. "YOU WERE HIT BY A CAR AND DIDN'T TELL ME?!" He bellowed as All-might jumped back in shock while You stared at your boyfriend with a blank expression.

He was frothing at the mouth as you listened to the blond rage like a chihuahua on caffeine, you looked at you dad having a metal conversation with the honey blond skeleton who nodded giving you the okay! you were gonna tell your boyfriend about your condition...With a sigh you calmly reached up and pinched Katsuki's nose between your index and middle finger. "Breath damn you!" you hissed the ash blond stilled and looked at you with annoyance for being interrupted.

"I get that you're angry... But you need to know something." Katsuki let out an inquisitive growl as you looked at him seriously. "I can't feel any of this... at all." You chortled his red eyes widened as you continued. "I was born with a rare Condition, Chromosome 6 deletion?" You looked at your dad, Toshinori nodded you let go of Bakugou's nose. as your dad continued. " In short Y/n can't feel pain, fatigue or hunger, so naturally she lacks a sense of fear." Recovery girl returned wiped the blood off your forehead, and kissed your cheek a few seconds later your head was healed, Katsuki stayed silent as he absorbed everything you and All-Might had told him the teen was really quiet which worried you.

Your dad sensed the tension and suggested the two of you go for a walk and talk this out, it was silent as you and Katsuki walked to a different part of the school that was more private, You turned to face you and were met with a fist flying at you! then stopping a few inches from your face, You didn't even flinch just gave him the same impassive expression from earlier. "If that was supposed to get a scream out me of you failed...royally." you hummed as as the blond frowned putting his fist down you can’t feel fear, even Half-n- Half’s eyes twitch when Katsuki psych’s him out!

"Why didn't you say anything anything about this?" he asked voice hoarse from yelling, You hummed trying finds the right words. "Well let's just say back in middle school I had a bad fricken time, kids can be cruel! you hummed not going into details on how others would exploit your medical condition for their own twisted fun. "I was...Scared is not the word, Sick the thought of you reacting the same as them made me feel sick." you were surprise when Katsuki pulled you close resting you head against his chest. "I would never hurt you like those brats did." he huffed wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Don't shut me out like that again," he kisses you nose causing you to blush. "fucking tell me if you think somethings wrong so I don't have to worry about your ass!" he huffed keeping one of his arms around you as you two walked back to class. After that Katsuki was a tad more protective of you often asking where that scratch/bruise came from? and checking to make sure you haven't broken anything during class or missions he was like Toshinori 2.0...

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arvandus · 4 years

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Touch (Pt 5)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you. Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way. That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Special thank you to @salvator-heartbreaker who has helped me hash out this chapter and some future plot details; this would not be as amazing as it is without her help!

Chapter warning: This’ll get a bit heavy; just a heads up. Please be aware of the warning tags.

Recommended Chapter Song: Put Me Under by Grandson

Part 1 Part 4

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 5 - The Beast

Dabi walked down a long hallway, dark wooden floors cast in a dim orange glow from the mounted wall sconces. Every feature was cast in heightened detail – the color of the walls, the pictures on them, the ceiling with its wooden planks mirroring the floors like a fun house. But something was off about it. The sound of his footsteps was strangely absent, the faces in the pictures blurred by a shadow that shouldn’t exist.

It was familiar, this place. It filled him with a strange longing mingled with vague trepidation.

The whisper of voices came like a mist, seeping from the walls and soaking into his skin, cold and clammy. The voices were familiar, voices he thought he’d long since forgotten the sound of. He couldn’t make out the words; they jumbled together, swirling into a single hum that vibrated his bones and made his pulse race. Through the din, he thought he heard the sound of crying, a mother’s wail.

Fear seized him, a paralyzing fear he hadn’t felt in years. He had to leave this place. He took the door closest to him, turning the handle to step into black nothingness and suddenly he was falling, falling. He screamed, his voice the sound of a boy, his hands small like a child’s, wrapped in dirty bandages grasping at nothing. Blue flames erupted underneath him, devouring him like an ancient beast come to take him down into hell.

Dabi sat up in his bed with a jolt, his nerves screaming and his sheets drenched in sweat as the sound of his heavy panting filled the room. It was dark, except for the moonlight that crept through his window carried on a cold night breeze with each soft billow of the curtain.

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose in frustration as he tried to steady his pounding heart. The nightmares were coming back.

Dabi’s head pounded. Every muscle in his body ached, his damaged nerves on fire. A wave of nausea overtook him, and he rushed to the bathroom, retching and gagging in the darkness. Once he was sure there was nothing left, he flushed the toilet and sat down on the lid with his head in his hands while his dark world spun around him. He was a celestial body, knocked off its axis and careening into the burning sun of reality. There was no soft curtain between himself and the harshness of the cold floor under his feet, the sour taste in his mouth, or the loudness of the crickets outside his window. There was no comforting haze to cocoon himself in, his chrysalis torn from him before he could finish his transformation. He felt incomplete, broken, hungry.

Your pills weren’t enough. They had helped a little at first, but his body was already burning through them and adapting, wanting more. The addiction was a raging beast that couldn’t be satiated, and right now, in the stink of his bathroom with his sweat drying on his skin, he could feel its familiar pull. It was a siren’s song, played on the strings of his nerves in an off-tune melody that only he could hear. It sang of old promises, a promise of freedom from pain and suffering, a promise to protect him against his nightmares like a faithful guardian, a promise of sleep… if only he could pay the price.

He needed more. More of your pills, more of his own… just more. Anything to make this feeling go away, to put this beast to rest.

There was no peace for him when he was like this.

He thought of you. You had said he could come to you at any time. Did you really mean it? If he knocked on your door at this hour would you let him in? Would you give him what he needed?

Would you understand?

Desperation made Dabi pull himself up from the toilet, and he stared at himself in the mirror. Disgust filled him. In the dark of his bathroom, the shadow of his face looked downright terrifying. Would the sight of him late at night cloaked in shadow scare you? Would you scream?

You said it would be okay.

Another wave of nausea hit him, and he leaned over, his forehead pressed against the cold porcelain of his sink as he forced deep, long breaths into his aching lungs. He didn’t have a choice. He quickly rinsed his mouth with water to rid himself of the taste lingering in his mouth and made his way out of his room and down the hall.

Dabi stopped outside your door, hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on your doorknob.

He hesitated. A vague memory of your wounded expression drifted into his tattered mind. He had forgotten that he had hurt you, and he wondered if that would make a difference now. Were your words just words? Empty promises to be abandoned as soon as you got stung?

The beast of addiction growled threateningly. If you abandoned him, it would take what it needed by any means necessary. Its survival was paramount.

Not a lot scared Dabi. But in that moment, the thought of him hurting you to feed his addiction made him almost turn around and go back to his room. Or leave the building all together. Anything to get himself away from you.

But his feet wouldn’t move. They were rooted into the ground, his body poised like a blood hound who’d caught a scent. The beast knew where the drugs were and wouldn’t let him leave.

Maybe he’d apologize. He hated apologizing; he never apologized for anything. But in this case, it’d be worth it, if only you’d open that little bottle to alleviate his suffering so he wouldn’t have to do it himself. Shit, maybe he’d even mean it, if it meant seeing your smile again.

Just as Dabi was about to take his hands out of his pockets to knock on your door, a familiar grating voice cut through his mental fog like high beams on a dark road.

“You’re up late.” Shigaraki commented.

Dabi clenched his hand into a fist within the pocket of his sweatpants and turned to face the pale man staring at him in the hall with as much boredom as he could muster. “So are you.” Dabi replied.

“I’m always up late.” Shigaraki commented. He cocked his head to the side curiously, a glint in his eyes. “What are you doing?”

Dabi couldn’t tell him. Wouldn’t tell him. It was none of his business. Anger bubbled in his chest, a raging dragon threatening to spew fire. He bit his cheek hard enough to draw blood, feeling a metal ring clink between his molars. The pain cleared his head, but only slightly.

“Nothing.” Dabi replied. “I was about to head downstairs for a drink.”

Shigaraki stared at him for a moment longer, his gaze calculated. Dabi knew he didn’t believe him, but he wouldn’t give him the luxury of confirming his suspicions. Finally, the hint of smirk turned the corner of Shigaraki’s chapped lips, and he began to turn to leave. “Make sure you wash your whiskey glass this time. I hate hearing Kurogiri complain in the morning before I have my coffee.”

As Dabi watched his back disappear into his room at the end of the hall, he let out the breath he was holding. He stood there a minute longer to make sure he was gone. It was the most he could handle before his hand, with a will of its own, knocked softly on your door – loud enough to hopefully wake you, but not loud enough that others could hear it.

No response greeted him, and Dabi stared at the door, his blue eyes burning holes into it in anger.

You had said you’d be there for him. Why didn’t you answer?

He resisted the urge to pound on your door, waking everyone in the process. Instead, he leaned his forehead against your door, desperation filling him like an overflowing cup. “Open the door.” He whispered, as if his words could reach you in your sleep. The phrase repeated, over and over, like a chant. “Open the door, open the door…”

Did you lock your door at night? Or could he just open it and walk in? What would he do then? Would he wake you up, or just take what he wanted?

Just as his hand was about to reach for the doorknob, he heard shuffling on the other side, and he watched as light spilled out from under your door into the hallway where his own feet waited like tree roots. Sweet relief filled him and he mentally thanked whatever God existed.

You opened the door a crack, eyes bleary as you rubbed the sleep out of them. Light flooded across Dabi’s features and he closed his eyes against the brightness, his arm going up defensively.

“Dabi?” you sleepily mumbled. “What are you-?”

“Kill the light.” Dabi gruffly demanded. His tongue felt dry and heavy.

You closed the door, so it was open just a crack, and he unshielded his bloodshot eyes in time to see the light in the room go out. A moment later, the door opened again, and you stood before him, dimly lit by the hallway, in a tank top and pajama pants.

Your grogginess had dissipated like fog on a windy day, you senses on high alert to the man in front of you. Dabi braced himself against your doorframe as if to keep from falling, his tall, lanky frame filling the space. He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, which clung to him with sweat – he hadn’t even bothered to change it before seeking you out; you wondered if it even registered for him. His breath coated you, a staleness to it that was unmistakable and made you want to hold your breath.

Your pills must have worn off already, and he was quickly descending deep into the throes of withdrawal.

Without hesitation, you grabbed him by his hand, taking note of the hot clamminess of it, and pulled him into your room. As you closed the door behind you with a click, darkness fell like a blanket, and all you could see at first was the outline of his tall, black form as his ragged breaths rattled from his chest.

You guided him to the edge of your bed, pushing him down gently by his shoulders. “Just wait here.” You said softly, your words just above a whisper. You retreated to your bathroom and closed the door to keep the bathroom light from blasting into your room where he sat. Immediately, you grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the cold water of your faucet.

You weren’t in there long. You came out a moment later, leaving the light on and the door cracked to let some of the yellow glow filter into the room without being overwhelming; you needed to see what you were doing, after all.

You should have known better; as you made your way to Dabi, you realized he had your supply bag at his feet, your pill bottle in his hand. In your grogginess, you had forgotten that you kept your bag next to your bed, to keep it within reach in case of emergencies. Of course, he’d be tempted by it in his current state.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Dabi,” you warned. “Don’t.”

Dabi didn’t respond to you; his eyes stared at the bottle in his hand, his eyes reading over the name on them, realization rising slowly like a hazy dawn.

“These have your name on them.” Dabi stated.

“Dabi, give me the pills.” You ordered, your tone firm.

“Why do you have these?” Dabi asked. You knew the question was probably rhetorical – he was in no condition to really listen to your answer. Still, you bristled, the question too personal.

“Dabi. Give. Me. The. Pills.”

“I need them.” He replied, his grip tightening around the bottle.

You kneeled in front of him, and you got déjà vu of your visit in his room just a day prior. How quickly the addiction takes hold…

You placed a hand on his forearm, noting the texture of his scars under your fingers. “I know.” You said softly. “I’ll give you some. Just give me the bottle. Please.”

His grip tightened as your hand touched the lid of the bottle. “Trust me.” You whispered, trying to capture his downturned eyes with your own. His eyes finally caught yours, and you placed your other hand over his hot fingers and gently pried them open until he relinquished the plastic container. Once it was safely in your own hands, a breath of air escaped your lungs in relief.

You opened the bottle and handed him three pills. He stared at them.

“I need more.” He said.

Your heart throbbed painfully. “I can’t.” you replied.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” His eyes shot up to glare at you in betrayal.

“I have to make them last.” You replied.

“It’s not enough.” He said.

“I know.” You replied sympathetically. “Take these for now, and we’ll see how you feel in a little bit. We’ll keep a close eye on how long they last this time.”

You could tell he wasn’t satisfied with that, but he swallowed the pills anyway.

“Come on.” You said. “Let me change your bandages for you since you’re here. It’ll give the pills time to start working.”

Dabi didn’t have the will to fight you in that moment. His world was spinning, and his stomach was roiling against the drugs hitting his empty stomach. As if you could read his body like a book, a bottle of water magically appeared in his field of view.

“First, drink this.” You instructed. “And I have crackers I want you to eat.”

“I’ll drink the water, but to hell with your crackers.” Dabi grumbled.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, at least your personality is still intact…” you commented dryly.

You watched him like a hawk as he drank as much of the water as he could; about half of it remained. You wanted him to drink more, but you knew that his nausea was probably keeping him from finishing it. You really hoped he didn’t throw up the pills he just took; you had counted your pills and set a schedule. There was just enough to make sure you didn’t run out before your refills arrived in the next day or two.

Once you were sure he was done, you stuffed the pill bottle into the pocket of your pajamas. Dabi’s eyes followed your every movement. “We need to take off your shirt.” You said.

Dabi pulled the damp white tee over his head and letting it drop on the floor. Your pulse pounded shamefully in your ears; you couldn’t help it. Even with all that was going on, it felt surreal having him here on your bed of all places. You were still mad about what he had said earlier, but when he arrived on your doorstep looking two steps away from death, none of that mattered. You had promised him that you’d be there for him.

You watched him for a moment, taking in his shallow breaths and the way he gripped your comforter against the pain he was enduring. His suffering tortured you; all you wanted to do was to put your hands on him and pour your quirk into him, to caress the rings along his chest and follow your touch with gentle kisses… or to take his head into your arms and hold him close, to whisper that he’d be all right and you’d help him through this…

You pushed the ache away as you averted your eyes. No point in tormenting yourself over something that wasn’t even yours. Besides, right now certainly wasn’t the time for such thoughts. You had to let the drugs do the work… or at the very least, wait until he asked for you. He was vulnerable right now, not really in his right mind. He would go with anything you suggested, if it promised to alleviate his withdrawal. How would he feel later on once he got back to normal, knowing that you did things for him that he might not have normally wanted? Touching him outside of what he explicitly requested was a line you refused to cross.

“Lay down on your stomach.” You instructed.

He did as you asked without comment or complaint, his long body easily filling up the space, the bottom half of his legs hanging off the edge.

You placed the wet washcloth on the back of his neck, and a low, muffled groan fell from his parted lips into your comforter. You applied your quirk to his back before removing the bandages. It was supposed to still be active, lasting until late morning, but there was no way to be certain with his body reacting the way it was. You pushed a little extra into it, to make sure it would last a bit; he was already suffering enough as it was. You paused momentarily to see if he would ask for you to do more, but he never did; his eyes stared listlessly in the direction his head was turned, not really seeing; his body seemed to be in conservation mode. The bandages were starting to come off, losing their stickiness from his sickly sweating. They peeled off easily, like skin off a baked chicken. You scrunched up your nose as you threw the soiled items in the trash.

As you worked carefully, an odd silence filled the room, the kind that only seemed to exist late at night when all of the city was asleep. It was a time when noises were quieter, but shadows seemed louder. A time when everyday life felt muted while the ethereal danced in the streets, the streetlamps their spotlights.

Small sounds filled the silence. Dabi’s steady breaths, the shift of your body on your mattress as you reached for fresh bandages, the sound of paper tearing as you opened a new gauze patch.

You and Dabi were a liminal space, where neither of you lingered. It was a place of impermanence, a space to pass through, filled with brief visits without the intent to stay. Despite that, even now with all that had happened in the past 24 hours, it felt private… intimate. It filled you with an unspoken longing, a desire to capture the beauty of life’s fluidity like a painter captures a landscape. You wanted to take the impermanent and freeze it in time so you could appreciate its nuances in the shape of dark rugged scars and piercing blue eyes framed in wild hair. To be able to stare openly instead of stolen side glances, trying to catch a ghost in your peripheral vision. How did you end up being so drawn to him of all people?

His harsh words from the night before echoed through your mind, a rude reminder. You swallowed the lump in your throat. How cruel it was to be needed by someone but not wanted.

Despite that hurt, you knew wouldn’t abandon him; not like this. You had a responsibility.

“Dabi,” you whispered, checking the face of the man spread across your bed. His eye shifted to look at you, but he didn’t move. “You can get up now.”

Slowly, he sat up, and you handed him his shirt, the sweat on it cooled. You watched as he pulled it back on over his head, his back muscles rippling. A slight shiver passed over him as the damp shirt made contact with his sensitive skin. He paused for a moment, assessing himself. His body aches were lessened, and the nausea was milder. But it was still there, and his head still hurt. And the hunger… the hunger was there too.

“How are you feeling?” You asked.

“Better.” He replied. A half-truth. Or was it a half-lie? But weren’t all half-truths just lies in disguise?

“Good.” You breathed with relief. “Do you want me to check on you in a few hours? Or do you want to come to me when you’re ready?”

Dabi turned to look at you, really seeing you for the first time since he arrived. You seemed so kind, so pure… so trusting. A guilt nagged at him, but he couldn’t place it.

“I’ll come to you.” He replied. “I’m gonna go lay down.” He admitted. Why did he feel the need to tell you that?

“Of course. Get some rest if you can.” You replied with a nod.

Dabi stared at you for a moment, taking in your patient face, trying to place the feeling within him. Or was it feelings? Some good, some bad…

His head hurt too much to sort it out. Without a word he left your room, you following him to the door to give him a small wave and a “goodnight” framed in a gentle smile. Something about it seemed off - were you sad?

It was his fault, but he couldn’t remember how. Memories were too heavy to hold right now. Rest. He needed rest.

As you closed the door behind him, Dabi put his hands in his pockets. He felt something in them that wasn’t supposed to be there, and he pulled his hand out to stare at the contents.

Three pills sat in his hands, the weight of them strangely heavy. Or was that the weight of his conscience?

How did he get these? He stared at them blankly.

He couldn’t remember.

But Dabi knew for certain you didn’t give them to him.

A voice in his head told him to turn around and give them back. To apologize for breaking your trust, for violating the fragile agreement you had both mentally signed.

But there was another voice. One that swam in his blood like demons and controlled his muscles.

More, more, more.

He swallowed the pills.

_________________________________________________________

Part 6

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Taglist: @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart @doebopeepeebbod @ghost-of-todoroki @marvel-philosophy @lysawayne @udontneedtokno @citrussaurus

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #soft dabi #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bnha #mha #TW: drug abuse #TW: drug addiction #tw: withdrawal #dabi is not in a good place #dabi is touya #dabi is a todoroki #touch #dabi touch #angst

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airashisakura · 3 years

Text

Pregnancy Diaries

Chapter 3 - Mood Swings

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Rating: General audience

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke & Haruno Sakura

Summary : Sasuke is annoyed over something. Is Sakura annoying him with her hormonal induced mood swings?

FFN AO3

"Do you know, Sasuke-kun?"

Sakura's chattering stirred Sasuke out of his stupor. Sasuke mumbled in response, rubbing his eyes to shake off weariness. Traveling with a pregnant wife wasn't easy, even for a shinobi. He had been awake for three nights, taking guards all by himself. Sakura sometimes offered to take guard (if she could stay awake) so Sasuke could sleep a little, but he always refused. He knew it had been hard for Sakura to travel in such a condition. Although Sasuke tried to avoid the outdoors at night, due to some inevitable situations they occasionally had to stay under open skies.

Sakura was busy brewing soup for morning breakfast. She stirred the ladle, taking in the soup's aroma. Feeling something was incomplete, she broke the stalk of mushrooms and added them along with some seasoning in the pot of boiling soup. Camping outdoors had its own perks, but with the arrival of a new member, Sakura embraced this 'imperfect' domestic lifestyle.

Before that, their traveling kit had been oversimplified. A couple of bed-rolls, basic food supplements, ample amounts of food pills (till Sakura could make more), and a set of their ninja dresses. But as soon as Sakura got pregnant, they had to seal some extra contents in the scroll. Sets of utensils, more ingredients for cooking, blankets, normal civilian dresses for Sakura, some emergency medicines and herbs and whatnot! Sasuke was shocked (even more than when Sakura had announced her pregnancy) when Sakura asked him to carry these extra contents. But he couldn’t help it, could he?

"A baby cannot produce its own antibodies at this stage and so antibodies from mother’s immune system rush through the placenta to protect it from various infections." Sakura grinned widely. This had been her favourite thing now - to bombard Sasuke with medical facts about pregnancy, anytime and anywhere.

Sasuke smirked at Sakura, who still stirred the soup while she giggled and boasted about all the things she had already started doing as a mother when she was only halfway through her pregnancy. Carrying a baby in the middle of wilderness was not easy, but Sakura was excited and with every passing day, she readied herself more for this new transition.

Sasuke's gaze fell towards Sakura’s belly, which had grown quite noticeably from the last few months, until Sakura no longer tied the pouch around her waist. He was still perplexed — as to how he should feel. The little member who nestled within Sakura’s womb brought joy that he wasn’t the last Uchiha anymore. The thought of him cradling his own child in his arm brought warmth in his heart, but he was still unclear about his role as a father.

Sasuke only had a few memories of his father. He wasn’t just an honorable man — he had been a great father too. He always wore a tough facade, always concerned about the clan and his duties, but deep down he was a caring and loving father. Although Sasuke had been disappointed when his father boasted about his elder brother, his mother had helped him understand that his father deeply cared for both his sons equally. Images of his father training him the fire techniques flooded his mind, and he had felt a surge of emotions intertwined with pride when he had gotten compliments from his father. Maybe he needed to do the same as a father, he thought.

While he was still repenting for his past actions, he wished he had been a little insightful about his future back then, about his child’s future. Sasuke sighed deeply, trying to shake off these thoughts too. What had been done in the past couldn’t be changed, but his future was in his hand — that was one of many things he had learned during his journey. There were many things that he needed to find out, but first and foremost was the duty he would have to do when his child would be born. This dragged him down in the depth of his own bottomless doubts - was he really capable of taking care of his unborn child and its mother?

Meanwhile, Sakura rubbed their salmon with salt so she could start grilling them. Earlier, their diet had been very simple. There had been few delicacies when they had been wandering for long in woods and wanted a change of taste from her food pills. Now she had to eat more for the sake of the growing child inside her and to please her heightened taste buds. Sakura was content with the change in her life, unaware of Sasuke's struggles. Not when Sasuke had to deal with her aggressive mood swings, but the internal ones which he rarely confronted her even.

The fire was going to die and Sakura wanted to get up hurriedly, but her baby bump made it impossible. The one thing she didn't like about pregnancy was it really slowed her down. She sighed, her frustration drawing Sasuke's attention. Sasuke got up from his place, collected the wood, and sat in front of fire to reignite it.

"Thank you, Anata," Sakura cooed.

Sasuke nodded in agreement, feeling a little better. Although he knew Sakura was self-sufficient and she was ten steps ahead of him in planning for the baby, he thought one of his responsibilities was to make sure that she was taking care of herself.

Sasuke cleared his throat and asked, "You sure about taking the right amount of nutrients in your meal?"

Sakura hummed in agreement as she skewered the fish in the stick and replied, "Don't worry about it. I can take care of myself," and she smiled, assuring him.

It was something Sasuke should feel good after hearing, but deep down her words rubbed salt in his wounds.

"Hn," Sasuke responded, withdrawing himself from Sakura and mulling over the issue.

Sasuke's subtle frown didn't go unnoticed by Sakura. She realised something was bothering Sasuke, and maybe she knew what it was. Sasuke was difficult to read sometimes, and she needed to wait for a perfect opportunity to talk about it.

They set out again after eating their meal. Sasuke informed Sakura that if they picked up a little speed, they might reach a nearby town before the evening. He hated how his body yearned for a rented futon after just three days of continuous watch. Moreover, he had noticed Sakura's swollen feet, though she hadn't voiced her discomfort. He needed to get Sakura a nice and warm bed tonight, that's what he thought as he started moving.

As her pregnancy progressed, Sakura’s mood swings had become erratic. Sometimes she would be irritated by how her body slowed her down, and sometimes she would stroll around the forest, even getting off route to admire the beauty of nature. Hormones, she would complain to Sasuke. Sasuke had memorised one of the names. Relaxin, it was, which according to Sakura, made her energetic in her second trimester. Sasuke was silently thankful that apart from a gloomy Sakura, he had chances to witness an over-excited Sakura, but seeing Sakura balance herself on a log was too much now.

"Sakura, we are getting late. Come on, now. Get down." Sasuke requested, his hand tightly holding Sakura's and eyes never leaving her.

"This is so fun," Sakura chimed, taking more careless steps.

Sasuke's heartbeat gradually increased with every step Sakura took now. Internally, he scrunched, swearing to drag Sakura if she hadn't been pregnant. This woman was annoying him again and he couldn't help but to entertain her, could he? No matter how much he hated his present anxious state, Sakura's happiness somehow applied an ointment.

Sakura confidently strode on the log, looking around. Her smile was short-lived when her step missed, and before she could regain her balance, she slipped. Sasuke's shinobi instincts and alertness caught her before she hit the ground.

Sakura took deep breaths, contemplating the situation, eyes widened in horror.

For the first time in the day, a crooked smile made its way through Sasuke's face as he slyly said, "Serves you right."

Sakura didn’t like Sasuke's comment and retorted, "Shannaro, my heart almost stopped beating."

Sasuke couldn't hold his laughter anymore. Well, he couldn't deny that his wife could seriously mess up sometimes so badly.

Sakura wanted to show him that she could take care of herself. She didn't like how Sasuke had been checking on her all the time and questioning her about everything. She was about to get out of his hold, when she remembered it was time — time to talk to Sasuke. She realized she had been trying to be fiercely independent, and trying not to bother Sasuke, but it had been negatively affecting him — depriving him to enjoy his fatherhood. She let herself sink deeper in his embrace.

"Be careful next time," Sasuke instructed her, tugging her closer. He looked towards the sun, which was about to kiss the horizon. They were getting late to reach their destination, and Sasuke definitely didn't like it.

"Yes," Sakura whispered. "But we know you are always there to protect us." She hugged him tighter, trying not to crush her bump.

A rare small satisfying smile replaced a transient shocked expression. Sasuke realised what he was doing — Yes, he was protecting them. Sasuke felt a different kind of peace he hadn't experienced before.

"Ne, Sasuke-kun? Can you use your Susano'o? My legs are aching a little."

"Aah," Sasuke responded. "I’ll see if we can visit a hot spring."

“Sounds good,” Sakura giggled, letting herself get spoiled temporarily.

Sasuke's Mangekyou swirled to life as a purple aura encased them. Sakura sighed as she leaned towards Sasuke, letting him support her.

Chapter - 4

#sasusaku #ss fic #ss fiction #SasuSaku fiction #blank period #sasusaku travels #Pregnant Sakura #Pregnancy Diaries #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #filling the gaps #bit of domestic SasuSaku #yes Sakura annoyed Sasuke a little xD

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helloprettybb · 4 years

Text

lot to learn

Just a quick little thing about periods. Because while he may be a little confused, you know Steve would get on that shit and take care of you.

summary- Steve does not know much about periods, but he tries.

word count- 1.4k

warnings- none really, curse word once maybe, periods if that’s a warning

7:03 a.m. Steve just returned from his early morning run and enters the kitchen to start his routine. Every morning, he wakes up at six, runs for an hour, makes breakfast for himself before showering and laying back in bed with you. But right when Steve started the coffee machine, which is way too advanced and expensive in his opinion, you walk in.

“Hey, honey. Whatcha doin’ up so early?” Steve asks curiously. You weren’t a morning person per se. So besides missions, it’s rare to see you out of bed before ten o’clock.

“Just woke up really early,” you reply absentmindedly. You walk past Steve and head towards the pill bottle cabinet. Rummaging through, Steve hears you huff an annoyed sigh before closing it abruptly.

“Need something?” Steve questions, wondering why you immediately went to the medicine cabinet.

“No,” you shake your head and yawn. “I’m just going to go back to sleep.”

“The machine will get started pretty soon if you want a cup.” Steve states. Instead, you shake your head and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving.

7:32 a.m. After breakfast, Steve returns to his room but is surprised when he doesn’t see you in his bed. Maybe you weren’t tired and decided to work out. Steve shrugs to himself before hopping in the shower.

11:49 a.m. It’s been four hours and Steve hasn’t seen you all day. Usually, on the weekends, you’d be clung onto him all day, which is why it’s so unusual. If you just needed your space, you could have told him. Steve reminds himself to not jump to conclusions.

But when you aren’t eating lunch with everybody, Steve has to bring it up. “Has anyone seen y/n?”

“Wouldn’t you know, lover boy?” Bucky teases causing Steve to roll his eyes.

“She’s in her room,” Natasha says casually, keeping her eyes glued on some case file.

“How do you know?” Steve asks, wondering why Natasha knows and he doesn’t.

“Because she told me she’d be there all day,” Nat responds, moving to the next file. Steve furrows his brow in confusion. Why would you tell Nat, but not him? He hopes he hasn’t done anything to upset you. Steve runs a mental list of everything he’s said or done in the past week, but he can’t come up with anything.

“Did she say why?” Steve questions, dying to find out the reason for your avoidance.

“Yeah, she’s on her period.” Natasha states, tone unchanging. The men around the table have varying reactions, but with the same level of discomfort. Steve’s eyebrows shoot to the top of his head, Sam lets out an audible ‘oh’, while Bucky almost chokes on his food. Natasha eyes all the boys and simply rolls her eyes.

She turns to Steve and asks, “She didn’t tell you that?”

Steve shook his head and says, “No,” Then he thinks and realizes you’ve never talked about your period. Not that he’s asked, but for the seven months that he’s been with you, you’ve never even mentioned it. He knows that you have one, obviously, but you’ve never brought it up, so Steve assumed it wasn’t something to talk about.

“Hm,” Natasha hums, “Well, last I checked she’s curled up in the fetal position because there aren’t any painkillers.” Steve finds it ironic that people who constantly get hurt don’t have any pain meds. But then he remembers that a lot of them have some form of enhanced healing.

Steve needs to make up the seven months of you dealing with your period by yourself and he thinks he knows how. Getting up, Steve leaves to grab his keys and hears Natasha yell, “If you’re going to the store, pick up some pads.”

12:21 p.m. This should not be this confusing. But here he is: standing in the feminine hygiene aisle and staring in confusion at the different brands of pads. Steve honestly could not tell the difference between Always and Kotex or why there are night and day pads. There are numbers that correspond to flow, which Steve did not know could be that intense. But after twenty minutes in the period products aisle, Steve has learned more about periods than any health class in the forties.

Finally, after what felt like hours of deliberation, Steve grabs four boxes and leaves the aisle. Picking out pain medication was much easier and took a significantly shorter amount of time. While strolling to the cashier, Steve spotted your favorite snack and figured it wouldn’t hurt to buy it for you.

You feel like absolute shit. Your abdomen feels like it’s trying to kill yourself while your head is starting to get the same idea. You feel like a flood comes out of you every time you try to stand up and your scared that if you move, your bedsheets will look like a crime scene.

Falling asleep helps a little, but unfortunately, your cramps painfully pull you back into consciousness every twenty minutes or so. You’re about to attempt to doze off when you hear a knock on the door.

“Can I come in, doll?” you hear Steve ask. You don’t want him to see you like this. Over the months, you’ve been able to hide your period from Steve, but for some reason, this cycle is a real pain in the ass. As if he could read your thoughts, Steve adds, “I know you’re on your period.”

You can’t tell if you should be relieved or more worried. Steve’s a great guy, but what if he’s super grossed out. The whole reason you hide your periods from him is that your past boyfriends have clearly expressed their disgust. Realizing you might as well confront it head-on, you let him in. You try to hide the pain by sitting up, which proves to be a struggle, so you settle for leaning upright.

Steve opens the door and your concerns immediately leave your brain as you see what’s in Steve’s hands. He’s holding a grocery bag in one hand and your favorite snack in the other. “Steve, you shouldn’t have!” you exclaim.

He closes the door behind him and walks over to your bed. “It’s the least I could do for my girl.” Steve says and maybe it’s your slightly heightened emotions, but you could’ve burst into tears. He sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Aw, Steve, I love you so much,” you gush, wrapping your arms around his neck. Steve sets the bag down on the bed and returns the hug. Feeling his warmth distracts you from the inconsistent pain in your abdomen.

“I love you, too. But you know I could’ve done this for you earlier,” he states after pulling away. You look down a little bashfully. Of course, Steve would have helped you.

“I know, it’s just that my past boyfriends would always get weirded out, so I’d hide it from them.” you admit to him.

“Well, I’m better than those assholes,” Steve remarks confidently, causing you to laugh. You laugh a little too hard because you feel a pang in your stomach, causing you to wince a little. Steve must have caught it because he brings up, “Oh, I also bought you painkillers and pads.”

Steve moves to grab the bag beside you. He pulls out a bottle of Advil and sets it on your bedside table. Then he pulls out multiple boxes of pads. “Why did you buy so many?” you laugh.

“I went by myself, which in hindsight, was not the smartest because I had no idea what I was looking for.” Steve confesses honestly. You look over the boxes and laugh even harder. “What’s so funny?” Steve asks.

You hold up a box and tell him, “These are liners.” Steve still looks confused so you explain, “They’re for when your period is really light. They aren’t really pads.”

“Well, I guess I have a lot to learn,” Steve states. You look for a box that actually has pads. Grabbing the box and the pain medicine, you go to the bathroom.

Returning to your room, you see Steve stretched out on your bed. “I’m probably going to be in here for the rest of the day. You don’t have to stay with me,” you tell him, hoping he doesn’t feel obligated to stay inside.

“Trust me, I want to stay with you.” Steve replies, making you smile brightly. “Now come over here. I have seven months of cuddles to make up.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

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deathisanartmetzli · 3 years

Text

You Don’t Get It || Milo & Metzli

TIMING: Current - 10:29pm

PARTIES: @WICKEDMILO @DEATHISANARTMETZLI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

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Nobody Listens to Kix

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Case 00563: Nute Gunray

"Okay, men," General Skywalker said, pacing back and forth in front of the gathered troopers. The entirety of Torrent Company was in the large room. Kix had even been called from the medbay to attend the briefing. "Some of you may know that we have a prisoner onboard the Resolute. We are transporting Nute Gunray, a Separatist leader, to Coruscant to stand trial for his crimes against the Republic."

A muffled cheer rang from the back of the room, joined quickly by other sounds of approval by the other troopers.

Skywalker smiled, but motioned for the troopers to calm. "I know, men. We did good. Still, there's a long way to go before we get to Coruscant and the Separatists are going to try everything they can to take him back into their custody. We're going to heighten security, add some guard shifts. Basically, we're on high alert until we get him into Republic hands on Coruscant. If you see or hear anything different or wrong, report it to me, Ahsoka, or Rex. We'll advise you what to do from there. As always, no interacting with the prisoner. Don't give him anything, physically or verbally. Rex?"

Rex stepped forward. "As the General said, we know what to do here. We've lost Seppie prisoners in the past and we can't take any risks with this one. I'll assign extra guard shifts at fourteen-hundred hours. Report to the barracks by that time to receive your new assignments."

General Skywalker smiled. "There's no other group of men in all of the GAR that's better qualified for a high-security mission like this one, and none I would rather have at my back. Dismissed."

In the ensuing rush of troopers, the general said, "Kix, could I speak to you?"

Kix saluted, tucked his helmet under his arm, and approached the spot where the general stood. "Yes, sir?"

"Gunray seems to need some medical attention," General Skywalker said, clearly unhappy. "Under the terms of the Republic Code of Conduct and GAR regulations, I am obligated to give him access to medical care."

"Understood, sir," Kix responded easily. "I'll go pick up a pack from the medbay and report to the brig immediately."

"Wait a minute, Kix," Skywalker said, sounding thoughtful. "That gives me an idea. None of Gunray's injuries are life-threatening; he's just whining about them to make us sympathetic. Maybe we shouldn't send you in at all."

Kix made eye contact with Rex and both men glanced around the nearly-empty room while the general and the commander looked unconcerned at the implications of what General Skywalker had just suggested. The few troopers still in the briefing room kept their eyes on the floor. General Skywalker was their leader and they respected him, but what he had suggested was a violation of every peace treaty the Republic had ever made.

"I think it would be best if I went to see him anyway, sir," Kix told him. "We wouldn't want him to complain that he had been mistreated."

"Or maybe we should have you give him something to really complain about," the general suggested darkly.

Kix's spine stiffened and the remaining brothers in the briefing room shot incredulous expressions toward their general. From General Skywalker's face and bearing, he didn't understand what he had just asked Kix to do.

Clones were looked down upon by most of the Republic. They were seen as being scarcely capable of medical duties to begin with, a last-ditch option for men who would die without immediate care, no matter the quality. Kix and the other troopers could be medics, but never doctors, and the distinction was important. Suggesting that Kix treat Gunray in an ineffective manner was already slightly offensive - implying that Kix was incompetant and couldn't help Gunray with his minor ailments - but asking him to harm the Separatist leader? That would reflect poorly on Kix and every one of his brothers who trained and worked to be a clone medic.

Kix was far from alone in his shock at the general's suggestion. The brothers left in the room slowed in their actions, ready to help Kix argue his case if needed. Captain Rex frowned, his dark brows drawing together fiercely. Even Commander Tano seemed to sense that her master's words had been inappropriate, her montrals darkening as she glanced between the general and Kix.

In a room that had gone oddly silent in order to eavesdrop on the conversation, Kix shook his head. Using his mildest voice, he said, "As a medic, I'm afraid I cannot do that, sir. I've taken oaths to help the hurt to the best of my ability and - more importantly - to do no harm. I can't violate those oaths. I can't and I won't. Even with a direct order from you, General, I could not do what you're asking."

General Skywalker seemed to finally realize that he had made a severe misstep. He grinned and shook his head. "I was joking, Kix. I would never ask you to violate GAR regs or the Republic's treaties. Go get your pack and treat Gunray, but don't let him give you any trouble."

Kix saluted crisply and left the room, receiving a sympathetic look from Commander Tano and a pat on the shoulder from Captain Rex. His mind buzzed as he retrieved a medpack and made his way to the brig. As he walked, Kix came to the uncomfortable realization that he had lost a bit of respect for General Skywalker.

The green-skinned Neimoidian was possibly less happy to see Kix than Kix was to see him.

"A clone medic," he scoffed, his words running counterpoint to Kix's own thoughts. "I suppose they want me to die."

For a moment, Kix's stomach twisted with raw, burning emotion and he felt that he could fulfill General Skywalker's request without any regrets, but he forced the feelings away and concentrated on his training. "None of your wounds are fatal, sir, but I will make sure they heal as quickly as possible."

In only minutes, he had bandaged and applied bacta to a number of Nute Gunray's smaller wounds. There was one cut that had looked fairly serious, so Kix used a set of the adhesive stitches to close it and topped it with a bacta patch. After asking a few questions about Gunray's general physical comfort level, Kix allotted him a small dose of mild pain medicine and stood attentively nearby as the Neimoidian took the pills.

"Clone you may be, but your competence cannot be doubted," Gunray said, his rasping voice holding a begrudging respect.

"If any sudden pains develop, have one of your guards call for me immediately," was Kix's only response.

Kix returned the unused supplies to the medbay, every motion clipped and efficient despite the discomfort still bubbling inside him. His arms ached to lash out at the idea that people found him less capable because he was a clone, and his throat fairly itched to release a Mando'a curse or two, but he fought back the urges.

After all, and despite everything, he was a professional.

#Nobody Listens to Kix #star wars the clone wars #clone trooper kix #captain rex #commander tano #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #general skywalker #nute gunray #clone troopers deserve better #one-shot #but part of a series #more to come

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mcnuggyy · 3 years

Note

Wait can you explain the science behind HEM and how it effects unicorns? Bc my brain first took that in as "could a unicorn get high off of an avocado since it's a human food"

oKAY, so obviously i am still figuring a lot of this out as I go along but lemme see if i can form some proper thoughts here LMAO

Unicorns themselves are a creation from humans happiness, and humans give off a lot of HEM (human emotional magic) Happiness being the big one that unicorns can actually harness and use, it’s what keeps them immortal, alive, and many can use it to perform all sorts of magic, mundane or otherwise. Now most other emotional magic is too raw and unfiltered for unicorns to really use or be able to soak up or anything, (they already have to filter raw happiness to use it) like pure anger or pure sadness, impossible to use, it does nothing. Unicorns can feel it a bit and sense it, just like they can w happiness, but all other emotions are pretty much useless.

EXCEPT, for when those emotions are expressed through crying, TEARS are very important and the biggest expression of emotion, tears of frustration, of anger, of loss, of rejection, of joy, etc, etc, all of that emotion, in a single tear, is POWERFUL, and OFC it is full of that HEM, it is the purest you can get, so taking something like that, and diluting it, (like alcohol) and putting it in a pill, or a drink, or a food, etc, thats how you get your “alcoholic” drinks, your drugs, weed brownies(lmao), etc. It basically is like, getting buzzed, but it heightens that emotion in you, and the way humans experience emotions is so intense, and being able to like drink a bottle of wine w some joy in that, like YEAAHHH unicorns love that shit, especially tears from like a baby who doesn’t know what is going on and is expressing raw intense emotion, that shit will get you WASTED

now when it comes to human food, an average unicorn would probably get kinda sick, cause of the raw magic from earth that is just kinda there, again they can’t really do much with it when it’s raw because they haven’t been on earth in centauries and they don’t know how to process that shit anymore UNLESS, you are say, a unicorn who is constantly using magic, or gets a lot of exposure to humans and the raw HEM on earth like an operative or a tech does, who spends hours working with magic tech and humans and shit. So Hal eating a burger, would probably end up puking and getting sick at worst, or a tummy ache with an unreasonable amount of raw magic that his body can’t process at best, while Hev eating a burger would be able to get some cool raw magic for shapeshifting or whatever and even a good pick me up and be full of energy!

But again the average unicorn can’t really process that raw HEM so it means nothing to them, unless they eat it and they get tummy ache :’( or they can have a diluted version of it from a tear that they can actually absorb and partyyyyyyyy >:)

( and ofc humans have no idea that they do this or that this exists, they can’t use magic or do anything with it, so they just make all this emotional magic and don’t even realize it, they just go on about their day smhh )

#hope this makes sense #JAJAJA #still a work in progress weeee but this is basically the gist of it!#ye!#the rainbow factory #ocs #sooptea #replies #callate guero

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deancas-fanfiction · 3 years

Text

Hardest Part is Letting Go

Part 1/7

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Summary: Upon his diagnosis of a terminal illness, Dean vows to spend the rest of his short life with Cas by his side, completing his bucket list while learning what it really means to live and love.

Also available on ao3.

Dean had never been a romantic – that was always Cas and his extravagant date planning. It was incredibly endearing, but Dean just wasn’t one of those people that cared about that kind of stuff. He loved it because Cas loved it. Funny how a terminal illness can change someone.

It was one year earlier, just after Dean’s thirtieth birthday. Recently he hadn’t been feeling well. His energy level was low, and the sweeping waves of nausea became all too familiar. While low energy wasn’t exactly uncommon for him, this was different. Dean barely had the energy to get out of bed. At first, Cas assumed it was some kind of flu, so they spent day in bed watching old western movies and eating soup. It was a few days later when Dean realized something wasn’t quite right. Along with the loss of energy, came the loss of appetite, and consistent headaches. Dean hid it well, though. After all, he didn’t want to worry Cas or Sam. So he pretended everything was fine for the next few weeks and almost convinced himself he was starting to feel better. He thought that with time it would eventually go away. However, it ws quite the contrary.

One morning Dean awoke at his worst with a sharp, hot pain in his head; it was by far the most excruciating thing he has ever experienced. Biting down on his pillow, he screamed. He screamed until his voice was hoarse, just trying to release some of the pressure in his head. His nails dug into the blankets, begging for the pain to end. Soon darkness took over his vision and he drifted into blissful unconsciousness, away from the pain.

The next time Dean woke up he was in a hospital, with an IV hooked to his right arm and an oxygen tube in his nose. The fluorescent lights were harsh, highlighting the deep bags under his eyes. At least the pain in his head had subdued. His vision became sharper as the flog from the drugs cleared. Dean looked around the room, noting the ‘get well soon’ balloons and cards that littered the room. To his left was a card with a scrawl so ineligible it could only be identified as Sam’s attempt at handwriting. But the thing that caught his attention was Cas, sitting in this stiff chair next to his bed, his head resting on his hands.

Dean shot up, suddenly alarmed as he remembered the events that led to him being here. He sat up, pulling at the IV, panic rising in his chest. His hate for hospitals was heightened and all he could focus on was getting out of here. But then Cas’s head shot up to the sounds of Dean rustling in bed. He scooted his chair closer to the bed, resting his hand on Dean’s.

Dean frowned as he observed his boyfriend’s face. His nose was runny, and his eyes were pink and swollen. He had been crying. It was enough to stop Dean’s frantic movements as his heart rate increased. Cas very rarely cries, and when he does it’s for good reason. Cas ignored Dean’s questioning look. With light touches, he brushed Dean’s matted hair out of his face. It was comforting, but if anything, it just worried Dean more.

An advanced terminal illness. That’s what the test results said.

Those four words ruined Dean and Cas’s life. Those four words unraveled years of plans the two had previously made, imagining they had all of the time in the world. Now he was told he would have two years if he was lucky. Dean’s doctors offered aggressive treatment to prolong the inevitable, but he denied it. He knows what that treatment does to patients. They’re violently ill, bed ridden, and spend most of their time imprisoned in hospitals. Dean wanted to spend the rest of his short life as himself, with Cas by his side.

It wasn’t something to easily become accustomed to. Cas was in denial in the beginning. He went about life as if nothing has changed, but at night he would hold onto Dean extra tight, with no intention of letting go. It went on like this for a few weeks, until Dean came home from visiting Sam for the weekend to find Cas sitting on the kitchen floor sobbing. Dean dropped his duffel bag and wrapped his arms around Cas. He held him close, kissing the top of his head, burying his nose into his boyfriend’s dark hair, memorizing his scent. His hand rubbed small circles on Cas’s back, knowing it comforts him. He nearly let out a humorless laugh at the thought that he was the one dying, but also the one doing the comforting. It was then that he realized Cas is the only that has to live without him. If it was Cas dying, Dean knew he’d be completely broken too.

After they both released the emotions they had been repressing, they actually felt a little better. Now that they accepted the inevitable, they could live each day to the fullest. Without further discussion, Dean and Cas quit their respective jobs to focus on living life in the now. Besides, that’s what emergency savings are for, right?

This brings Dean to where he is now. Sitting in the living room at three in the morning with a glass of bourbon, paper, and a pen. He could feel his health slowly deteriorating and he knew he was running out of time. Dean estimated he had about six months remaining. At night he’d close his eyes and be met with the image of a clock. It would start with the seconds slowly ticking by and then morph into something sinister. Suddenly it was a calendar, with pages tearing away and flying off until there was nothing left but blackness and silence. There was nothingness. He’d wake in a cold sweat, with the constant reminder of the inevitable looming over his head. Dean shook his head, shaking the dark thoughts. He took a sip of his drink before focusing back on the task at hand.

1. Have breakfast in bed

2. Stargaze until the sun rises

3. Kiss in the rain

4. Rent a beach house for the weekend

5. Watch Sam graduate from law school

6. Go on a road trip with a kickass playlist

7. Get married

8. Go skinny dipping

9. Die loved

Dean hadn’t realized he was crying until a tear his list, smudging some of his handwriting. There was still so much he wanted to do, so much more he wanted to see but deep down he knew he didn’t have the time for it. Hell, he didn’t=’t even know if he had time for his list. But he was going to try. He looked back at a few items on the list and managed a small smile, so much for not being a romantic.

Dean looked up when he heard some shuffling and the opening of a door. His eyes met a sleepy Cas, with his blue eyes bleary and hair ruffled more than usual. It was a sight he could never get sick of.

“Can’t sleep?” Cas asked quietly. Dean hummed in response, struggling to get his emotions in check. He hated this vulnerability that came with the diagnosis. Making this list made him even more emotional and he knew that crying in front of Cas would only make things harder.

“Me neither,” Cas sighed, joining Dean on the couch. He leaned into his side, curling in to soak in his body heat. “I can never sleep very long without you next to me.”

Dean smiled at that and kissed Cas on the temple. Cas sighed contentedly before frowning when he saw the list in Dean’s hand. “Is that your bucket list?”

“Yeah, I figured since we have some time, we should make the most of it, you know? And there’s a lot of things I’ll never get the chance to do, so I thought I’d make a list of the ones most important to me.”

Cas gingerly grabbed the list out of his hand and read through it, a sad smile on his face. “No backpacking across Europe?”

“I don’t think there’s time for a trip to Europe,” Dean mumbled. He and Cas had dreamed of backpacking across Europe since they were in college. They talked of romantic stops in Italy for the food, France for the champagne, Ireland for the Guinness and beautiful countryside, Scotland for the scotch, and so much more. Cas just nodded in response, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to think about the concept of time at the moment.

“What do you want to do first?” Cas asked, his voice cracking.

“Right now, all I want to do is go to bed with you.”

“Alright, then let’s go to bed,” He replied, grabbing Dean’s hand and leading him into the bedroom with a sly smile on his face.

The next morning Dean awoke with another headache. He wasn’t surprised, it’s been happening a lot more often lately. He sat up and reached for the numerous pill bottles on the table next to the bed and took the numerous pills prescribed to him by his doctors to keep his symptoms under control. Forcing his legs out from under the warmth of the blankets, Dean got up to go see what Cas was doing. While Dean has always slept later than Cas, he usually lays in bed with him reading a book while waiting for Dean to wake. After all, Cas knows how much Dean hates waking up alone.

Just as Dean was crossing the door, he was met with Cas carrying a tray full of chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, a heaping pile of bacon and his usual cup of coffee.

“Cas…” Dean started, realizing what he was doing.

“Dean! You ruined it. To have breakfast in bed, you actually need to be in bed.” He pouted which caused Dean to laugh at his boyfriend. He quickly turned around and crawled back into their bed.

“We don’t have to do everything on the list right away, angel.” He retorted, pulling the warm blankets on his lap. His voice came across softer than the joking manner he intended. His gratefulness for Cas shone through his usual sarcastic façade. Cas chose to ignore the comment and set the tray on the middle of the bed, settling next to him. “But thank you,” Dean added, giving Cas a kiss on the lips.

Cas smiled, his blue eyes impossibly bright in the early afternoon light. Dean sighed, staring as he admired Cas’s beauty. His dark hair is tousled, sticking in all directions accompanied with the stubble that comes from not shaving for a few days. He’s dressed in one of Dean’s classic rock shirts and a pair of boxers, with the smell of coffee lingering on his breath. Dean smiles at him, bacon momentarily forgotten, only consumed by thoughts of Cas. When things get bad, he wants to remember this specific moment and how happy the two of them are. ‘When things get bad…’ Dean ended that train of thought and shook himself out of his daze, turning his attention to his delicious breakfast instead.

________

A/N: Hi friends! I’m so excited to post my first Dean/Cas fanfic! I’ve written for other fandoms before but I just can’t shake the finale so here’s my coping mechanism. This fic is finished, totaling at about 15,000 words. I plan to post either weekly or twice a week, depending on the reception this gets. Please let me know any feedback or submit any prompts!

#destiel #fanfiction #deancas #supernatural fanfiction #destiel fanfiction #destiel fanfic #angst #fluff #eventual character death #dean knows how to communicate his feelings for once #dean winchester #castiel #alternate universe #chaptered

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haikyuu-scenarios-box · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu Horrors — Week 2🔪

Demon — DemonKing!Oikawa Tooru x FallenAngel!Reader

Previous Week: Wendigo — Kuroo Tetsurou x GenderNeutral!Reader

TW: fire, mentions of torture, religious references, blasphemy i mean seriously demon!oikawa is in love with u ofc it’s gonna be blasphemous

Word count: 2,370

UNDER THE CUT

__________

One of the many debates in Heaven was why the number of demon contracts skyrocketed as centuries passed. As [y/n] poured the hot tea from the pot into their cup, they recalled their answer - mortals were simply hollow without greed. Koushi’s healing wasn’t enough, Azumane’s protection wasn’t enough, Kiyoko’s beauty wasn’t enough and Daichi’s wisdom wasn’t enough.

But the demons... their services fully relieved whatever emotional or superficial famine mortals were undergoing. They went beyond what a mortal desired and for that, they gained their soul in exchange for temporary pleasures. [Y/n] figured that Tooru - the king that oversaw the sixth circle of Hell - was relishing in the torture he subjected those that were damned to reside in his realm for entirety.

The tea coated [y/n]’s mildly inflamed throat with a comforting warmth. When they caught a glimpse of the woods from the front window, a bitterness akin to a melting pill on their tongue bloomed within their chest. Keiji just dropped them in the middle of nowhere and by sheer chance, [y/n] eventually found a one-room cabin that’d been abandoned for years. It had barely been a month and [y/n] was already inflated with frustration. How the fuck did mortals live like this? They felt like a goddamn farmer every time they watered the empty vegetable patch and collected leaves from a nearby tea shrub.

Their jumbled thoughts ceased once their ears began picked up on distant sprinting. [Y/n] would be lying if they said that their paranoia didn’t exponentially increase the moment they fell. After all, most of their powers had been taken, besides a small bit of their healing ability and heightened senses. No strength. No agility. No exorcism. Nothing.

At first, [y/n] dismissed the sounds as paranoia - a camper or hiker, perhaps? Despite their attempt at composing a logical justification, a bout of nausea grew within their gut and the muscles along their jaw ached with tension. The sweat that slowly sweeped from [y/n]’s pores pricked their skin as they hurriedly reached for the door, locking the four locks along it.

It couldn’t have been a human. Those sprinting footsteps were far too fast.

It couldn’t have been an angel. They were forbidden from contacting all of them, including fallen ones.

It could only belong to a demon that donned a human body.

[Y/n]’s hands shivered with a numbing, glacial dampness. They no longer possessed defensive abilities, nor were there any weapons in the cabin that would be effective against a demon. As the sprinting got louder within their ears, a dry knot formed itself within their throat and the intensity of [y/n]’s heartbeat weighed their head down, almost sending them to the floor. They were simply frozen. There was nothing that could be done.

A great force shattered the wooden door into splinters and boards. The locks might as well had been a layer of chiffon.

‘W-what...’ they backed away slowly, the sharpness of a spike buried within their sternum. He appeared human, but [y/n] could very clearly see his real form. ‘How... Azumane s-sealed you away, I-I don’t...’

‘I didn’t think that this form would leave you speechless,’ Tooru said with pride, flashing a charming smile, ‘I wanted to wear something nice for you.’

‘Wear something?’ [y/n] repeated with disgust, ‘You’ve possessed an innocent man!’ they yelled, riddled with spite, ‘Who is he? A father? A son? A—’

‘I’m offended that you’d accuse me of such a thing,’ Tooru feigned hurt as he approached them, ‘I made all of this’⁠—he gestured in a downwards motion to his body as he grinned—‘on my own. It took a decent amount of energy to make a form this appealing. You could at least appreciate it.’

‘Well that energy has gone to waste because I can already see how hideous you look underneath it,’ [y/n] scowled, ‘get out or I’ll send you back to where you belong,’ they bluffed, stretching out their right hand towards him. They wished that the archangels could hear them curse for taking away the only ability that would’ve kept them safe.

The smirk that Tooru’s lips curled into denoted scepticism and cockiness. The last time a substantial number angels fell was eras ago when they fought alongside the Devil (which, as most knew, ended with a victory for Archangel Azumane when he managed to seal him away within the deepest layer of Hell). Despite that, Tooru didn’t forget that those angels that fell to Earth had almost entirely lost their powers.

‘Come closer and do so then,’ he beckoned, ‘or are you scared that I’ll be the one who sends you to where you should’ve fell?’

[Y/n] opened their mouth to respond, but Tooru’s strides towards them caused that sentence ceased before it even began. In the three centuries they’d been imprisoned in Tartarus, they’d almost forgotten how ugly and twisted a demon’s real form was, even more so when it was the king of a circle. It was such a sharp contrast to the human face that Tooru currently hid behind; a smokey, pitch-black void that dripped with a various shades of a deep crimson. The blurry features of a substantial number of agonised human faces littered his form, their hands either pounding or scratching. He had the skull of a horse for what would be a face and his limbs were thrice as long as that of a normal human; the decaying shreds of muscle sizzling around the cobalt traces of fire lining them.

At the same time, though, [y/n] couldn’t deny that Tooru’s mortal form was captivating. It was mesmerising enough to render them blind to what lied beneath it.

‘As if dumping you in the middle of rural Japan like a bag of trash wasn’t bad enough, your powers were taken away as well,’ Tooru stared right into them, ‘a bit excessive for throwing a tantrum about serving ungrateful humans, don’t you think?’

Long ago, prior to when [y/n] began to develop an intense loathing towards the archangels, they would’ve sent the bastard right back to Hell so that he’d go back to trapping every damned human within a flaming tomb, or whatever other punishment that the sadist came up with throughout his reign.

Certain affirmations simply could not be forced, and this was one of them. In a way, [y/n] was starved - they always sought more control, more freedom and much more power. Tooru stole the words right out of their larynx. If Father had truly loved them equally, he would have granted every angel unimaginable power. Equality and bias were opposites and restricting such power to the Archangels was on the far end of that spectrum. The fact that all [y/n] could do was do mortals’ bidding filled them with resentment, so much to the point where they were surprised that none of the other angels sensed it.

‘I can still feel it so clearly,’ Tooru inhaled deeply with a pleased smile, ‘that pure hatred in you,’ he said, ‘I remember it all the way back from when you fought alongside Azumane when he was trying to seal me away. You were the only being that abandoned the battle,’ his features softened, ‘and for that, you were damned.’

[Y/n]’s eyes and nostrils grew warm, lower lip quivering. ‘How did you break the seal?’ they muttered after a short silence, changing the topic and neglecting his earlier statement.

‘I’m glad you asked!’ Tooru clasped his hands together, ‘All it takes is fire created by an archangel.’

‘W-when I fell...’ [y/n]’s heart pounded within their cranium upon realisation, ‘... the embers from Keiji’s fire...’

‘Correct,’ he beamed, ‘That reminds me, I should probably thank Makki and Mattsun for taking their hellhounds on regular walks. Those hounds smelled messenger boy’s fire from towns away.’

They merely stood there, watching Tooru walk around the cabin curiously. The entire encounter caused an harsh headache to throb along their temples. [Y/n] could sense their eyeballs slowly rolling to the back of their skull and they wanted nothing more than to lay down.

‘This place is depressing. And I’m saying that as someone who lives in Hell,’ he remarked, his back facing them as he glanced at the patches of dust on the kitchen counter.

‘Did you come here take me to your realm or to judge my decor?’ [y/n] sarcastically asked, overwhelmed with emotions they couldn’t even describe (divine beings were crafted to be pragmatic, not emotional). ‘If you’re planning on torturing me for intel on the archangels, let me just tell you in advance that they’re still sitting up there doing nothing.’

‘Torture?’ Tooru chuckled. When he turned around, [y/n] watched ebony slowly pool into his eyes, starting from his waterline and eventually blending into his pupils. The smirk he wore only amplified his unsettling aura. ‘If that was my plan, I would’ve just asked the kings of the eight circle to take care of you. Tetsurou, Bokuto and Kei would have got you talking in no time.’

The mention of those names drove a shudder to travel through every bone in [y/n]’s body. A sudden heat enveloped them, leading sweat to become a disgusting adhesive between their clothes and skin. The wooden walls snapped and crackled, whereas their lungs felt as though they were on the verge of collapsing into themselves. When their vision grew distorted with heat stronger than that of Tartarus’, [y/n] realised that it was far too late to keep stalling.

‘What I want is to propose an offer.’

With a single blink, cobalt flames erupted from the floor in the form of a dome around them. The intense heat against their skin was excruciating enough to make [y/n] howl and whimper, a first degree burn already flourishing onto their skin. The smoke compressed and stung every one of their internal organs; despite that, they refused to sink to their knees.

‘God’s love isn’t unconditional, [y/n],’ Tooru began, walking through the wall of fire without a flinch, ‘he made me too, yet he doesn’t love me. And he certainly doesn’t love you either. Not anymore.’

Several wooden planks clattered to the dusty floorboard from the ceiling, a thick blackened sheen enveloping them almost immediately. [Y/n] could barely breathe, their gasps and wheezes sharp enough to bear a similarity to skewers impaling them. Yet, terror was no longer within them; merely because they were in the presence of someone who understood. As Tooru cupped [y/n]’s face and stroked their cheekbones with his thumb, the flames began to slowly dwindle into ash.

‘But me? I love you.’

‘What?’ [y/n] questioned, confused beyond measure. Demons were incapable of love - this was either lust or pure manipulation.

‘I love you,’ Tooru repeated, an unnerving Cheshire grin drawn along his lips. ‘Without you, your rebelliousness, your disobedience, your hatred, I never would have been able to return here,’ he slightly tightened his grip on their face, ensuring that their gaze remained fixated on him, ‘Fallen angels gain great power when they’ve suffered in Hell long enough. Much greater than your father could ever give you. Return with me and suffer, and then... it’ll be yours.’

His fingers ran through [y/n]’s hair, brushing away stray strands off their forehead. The gesture was so tender, so human; a complete contradiction to his nature and position. They weren’t sure that angels themselves were capable of carrying out an act that delicate.

‘I want more than that,’ [y/n] scowled, placing their hands flat against his chest. ‘I want the archangels to suffer. I want every human in Hell. I want the entire fucking earth,’ they curled their fingers into Tooru’s shirt, aggressively pulling him towards them to press their lips against his. They were infuriated by their own thoughts and transfixed by the demon in front of them; it was as though [y/n] believed acting on their blind instincts would somehow enrage the archangels. Their lids slowly sunk closed as he placed one hand at the back of their neck and the other on their lower back, tugging them even closer to his body.

‘There’s only one way to gain that kind of power,’ Tooru smirked as he pulled away, raising their head by the chin with his knuckle to stare right into their irises.

‘I know,’ [y/n] solemnly said, gently stroking his cheeks, ‘Take us home.’

__________

It would have been logical for one to assume that Hell would be even more unbearable for a being that resided in Heaven for centuries, but [y/n] was an anomaly. They stood in front of the full-length mirror, admiring their formal attire and mortal form. A while ago, Tooru had refurbished the castle entirely while [y/n] underwent the transformation. Although it’d been eras since an angel was turned into a demon, he recalled how lengthy and agonising the process was and of course, he wanted his darling to return to a home they’d adore prior to even entering.

‘Your highness,’ a voice rang from behind them, ‘we await your arrival.’

It wasn’t just Tooru and [y/n] that donned their mortal form today. They’d made everyone in the realm do so as well. Demons accepted their appearance, yes, but no one could deny that they were repulsive (after all, [y/n] themselves couldn’t persuade their mind to view their new self as acceptable). Neither of them wanted to stare down at their subjects in their monstrous forms from the castle’s balcony.

When [y/n] headed towards the balcony, their groom finally came within their sight. ‘My love,’ they cooed, prompting Tooru to turn around. Hajime, his personal advisor, was already delivering a speech about the significance of the day; though [y/n] wasn’t listening, really.

Tooru took their hands within his, kissing their knuckles with a genuine grin.

‘The overseer of the City of Dis’—Hajime began his introduction—‘the punisher of heresy, the ruler of the sixth circle of Hell, King Tooru!’

Excited yells, hollers and claps erupted as Tooru left their side to appear on the balcony. He stood proudly with a captivating smile, giving a wave to the demons he ruled over. Almost everyone in the realm attended - a “short vacation”, they all called it.

‘And the angel that abandoned the battle against the sixth circle now roams it, not as a fallen angel, but as one of us!’ Hajime announced with a loud, confident voice That was [y/n]’s cue to appear.

‘King Tooru’s [bride/groom], [y/n]!’

The buoyant cheers grew once more as [y/n] stopped beside Tooru; yet the attendees might as well have remained completely silent, for all their focus was on him. He wrapped his arms around [y/n]’s waist as they cupped the sides of his face, tenderly placing his lips against theirs and relishing in their warmth and softness. They both currently appeared so humane; however, they knew that they shared an intense ugliness within them.

‘We will soon dominate the Earth and the Heavens, darling,’ Tooru whispered.

They wouldn’t have had it any other way.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru #demon!oikawa tooru #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines blog #haikyuu x reader #gender neutral reader #writing #scenario #haikyuu horrors #tw: fire #tw: blasphemy #tw: religious themes #tw: torture mention

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sassycassie-s-writing · 4 years

Text

Batfang

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: T/PG-13

Original Idea: @burkgolden gave me a lot of fantastic inspiration for this one!

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one... really got away from me. Not sorry. Had too much to tell. Also, y’all, this is me we’re talking about. AU’s like this are bound to happen. XD ;-P

@welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

“If you turned Batman into a vampire… could he, like, actually turn into a real bat?” Red Hood asked as he swung through Gotham while I leapt from building to building beside him.

I laughed. “Eventually,” I said. “But it’s a difficult trick to master. Even for Batman… it would probably take at least a few days.”

“How long did it take you?” Red Hood continued.

“A month. And even that was considered fast,” I said.

“Huh.”

Gotham was the best place to be a vampire. It was almost never sunny, overcast reigned supreme, it wasn’t even warm very often.

It was also full of criminals who I could feed off without feeling guilty.

I never killed any of them, but I didn’t feel bad about preying on people who preyed on innocents. If I took 40% of a criminal’s blood every two weeks, I could survive indefinitely in Gotham.

“But Bats is stubborn and really smart. So he’d master it faster?” Red Hood asked.

“Possibly,” I said playfully. “Though you or Damian might even cotton on faster than Batsy, Jason.”

“So how come you’re not flying around Gotham as a bat right now?”

“Because you’re talking and I can’t reply without a human voice box.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault.”

“Yup,” I replied.

Jason laughed. Then cut himself off. A moment later, I heard him sigh. “Got a ping. An alleyway half-a-mile north of here is having a scuffle.”

I tsked. “An alleyway. Always an alleyway,” I muttered. “This is Gotham. They could be mugging someone in broad daylight in the middle of the road and people won’t even be fazed by it.”

“Well… maybe that’s the one level of discretion Gotham criminals have,” Jason joked as we changed direction and started heading north.

Half-a-mile wasn’t far. As I jumped between two buildings, I spun in the air. Black mist surrounded me and my form rearranged itself into that of a bat. I flew after Jason toward the alleyway, following him since he had a HUD inside his helmet with a map. All I knew for certain was the endless amount of human blood pulsing through the city. It was hard for me to pick out locations unless blood had been drawn. Exposed blood was so much more potent than blood safely pumping underneath someone’s skin. Even a single drop.

We made it to the alleyway. Jason dropped off the roof of one of the buildings and parkoured his way down while I swooped, mist surrounding me again and transforming back into my true form, fangs bared and a hiss in my throat.

Gotham knew for a long time that all the Bats and Birds in Batman’s little gaggle of children were 100% human. Then Duke came along. A metahuman. And then, more recently, I joined too. And Gotham learned that one of the Bats was an actual vampire. As a civilian, no one would guess that I wasn’t human, so the Wayne family was still safe from suspicion.

One of the criminals swore. “It’s Hood and Batfang!” The other two whirled, surprised. The victim fell on his backside on the ground.

All three of the criminals opened fire. I heard Jason swear and start evading while I charged straight in, bullets pinging off my skin.

We made quick work of the criminals; subduing them and tying them up. Jason sent the victim inside for safety while I stole a quick drink from one of the criminal’s wrists. Jason politely looked away. He always did. Claimed that he could handle a lot, but drinking blood weirded him out.

I straightened up and turned to Jason with a smile, wiping blood off my lip. Usually I was a clean drinker, but it was hard when the meal struggled against me.

My smile dropped.

Jason was holding his abdomen. The smell of exposed blood—that I’d missed in the heat of battle—filled my nose.

Jason swore and staggered backward.

I ran forward and caught him, lowering him to the ground. “Hood? Hood!” I pleaded. “Stay with me. Stay with me. We’ll… we’ll… we’ll get you help.” My body shuddered as I breathed in the smell of his blood. I’d smelt it before. He bled almost every night. But there was more of it than usual. And the amount increased the potency. “I’ll call an ambulance and—”

“No,” he protested. “Agent A…”

“There’s no time to get all the way there. I have to get you to a hospit—Hood? Red Hood?!”

He’d gone limp in my arms, eyes fluttering closed.

I grabbed his commlink and shoved it in my ear. “Batman!” I exclaimed. “It’s Hood! He took a bullet to the gut. He’s bleeding out. What do I do?”

“Bring him back to HQ. Now.”

I shook my head. “There’s no time. I’ll never make it before he dies. The only way he could survive that long is…” I trailed off.

“Batfang? Batfang? What’s the only way he could survive?”

I released a long, quiet breath, fluttering my loose hairs. “I’ll call you back,” I said, ripping the earpiece out of my ear.

“Batfang? BATFANG!” I heard Batman shouting through the comm, but ignored it.

Carefully, I cupped Jason’s face in one hand. “I love you,” I whispered to him. “I can’t lose you. Don’t hate me. Please.” Leaning down, I inhaled the intoxicating scent of his exposed blood. My body shuddered again as I breathed it in.

I sunk my fangs into his neck.

The microscopic holes at the bottom of each one released a shot of venom into his bloodstream. His whole body tensed and convulsed.

I scooped him up and ran back to the safe house he and I had been sharing for the last year, setting him on the bed and perching next to him. I brushed his bangs out of his face. The white streak he usually kept hidden was grey with grime and sweat.

“Just sleep, darling. It’ll be over soon.”

I started to sob, despite not being able to shed tears.

^^^^^

“Gotham and Blüdhaven are the only places I can feed without feeling guilty,” the vampire girl said to Batman while Jason watched with his arms folded in the shadows.

“Why?”

“Because… preying on people who prey on innocents? That’s kinda their Just Desserts, isn’t it? And for me, well, it’s just… dessert.” She smirked a little to herself, finding her own joke funny.

Batman rolled his eyes at the pun. The girl tensed as though she was about to get punched. But Batman’s fists remained curled at his sides.

“You’re not leaving even if I want you to, are you?”

“All due respect, sir, I can actually turn into a bat. So I think I kinda fit in around here.” She beamed again. “You can call me Batfang. It’s not the best and I’m trying to figure out a better code but I know how to handle myself and feeding off criminals is fine with me. I’ve never killed anyone I’ve fed off before. Not knowingly at least. Maybe when I was a fresh turn I might have gone too far and the poor meal never recovered but fresh turns have the least control.” She paused. “And, also, no. I’m not leaving even if you want me to.”

Jason emerged from the shadows. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” he said. “She’ll be safe with me. I’ll keep her in line.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed behind his cowl. “You think I’m going to trust you with her? That I don’t know your history of crossing the line?”

Jason glared at Batman. “I can keep her in line from either side of the line, Bats,” he snarled.

“Here,” the vampire girl said, pulling a pill capsule out of her bag and delicately holding it. “I keep a few of these on hand. It’s full of vervain. The skin of this thing so much as breaks inside my mouth or stomach and I’m a goner. I imagine with your guys’ skills, it wouldn’t be too difficult to force-feed me one if I step out of line.” She dropped the pill into Jason’s hand and passed another one to Batman.

Her black eyes bored into Batman’s. “Keep me in line,” she said. There was a challenge in her voice that said, “But you won’t need to.”

Jason couldn’t help but smile. He liked her. She was feisty.

^^^^^

Jason woke up to a burning pain in his neck. A dull ache in his abdomen and a toothache reminded him of the shot through the gut he’d sustained. How long had it been? Had everything turned out alright? Had Batfang…?

Oh $#!+—had Batfang gone ballistic? She’d told him once when they first started dating that powerful surges of emotion could cause a vampire to go absolutely berserk and slaughter every human nearby in a frenzy and drain them all dry. Oh man… he hoped she hadn’t gone crazy. Just when she’d been building up a reputation as a feared but respected Gotham vigilante…

The sound of sobbing roused his attention. His senses… they were in overdrive. Like he’d just come off a dose of fear toxin gas. He was aware of the threads underneath his fingers. The light against his eyelids. Something that smelled really good and really strong, but was unfamiliar. She must have cooked something in her endless box of recipes that she’d collected. His mouth tasted like he was recovering from an illness. But the sobbing was the most prominent sensation.

He peeled his eyes open—shielding them as sunlight blinded him—and sat up.

A familiar back in a familiar short, light, thin black cape was curled up in a ball on the other side of the bed, hair brushed over one shoulder. She was shaking. He knew she couldn’t cry, but he forgot all about it as he moved to wrap his arms around her. “B… baby?” His gentle tone seemed loud to him—so he couldn’t imagine how much louder it was to her with her heightened senses. She flinched, recoiling away from him. “Babe what’s wrong?”

Turning, she buried her face in his chest. “I’m so sorry, Jay. I… I couldn’t lose you,” she sobbed.

“Babe, what did you do?” He sounded so sharp.

She reached up and touched his neck. He hissed as the burning pain spiked.

Carefully releasing her so she wouldn’t fall over, he went to the bathroom.

“Uh… baby? Where’s my reflection?” he called. She just sobbed again.

Understanding sunk in. He slumped, bracing his hands against the sink. The marble cracked slightly under his grip.

“You… you turned me,” he said.

“Yes,” she muttered.

“You turned me. Into a vampire.”

“Yes,” she repeated.

Jason let go of the sink and slowly turned around to face her. She was still curled up on the bed, her hair a mess and her black eyes turning red. Both sclera and iris. She kept the black glamour over her eyes when normal people were around because the red tended to freak people out. Though she would let the red through when she was intimidating criminals.

“Why would you do that?” Jason asked.

“I told you—I couldn’t—” She paused to sob. “I couldn’t lose you, darling. I love you.” She curled up tighter. “Please… don’t hate me.”

“Babe… I told you I never wanted to be turned—”

“I know—but it was the only way to keep you from dying! I’m so sorry. I… I damned you!” Once again she dissolved into tears.

Jason shook his head, cursing his bleeding heart for how much he loved her.

^^^^^

Jason crossed from the bathroom back to me, wrapping his arms around me. “We’ll figure this out, babe,” he said quietly. “It’s just… I never wanted this.”

“I know. I know you didn’t. And I never had any intention of turning you. But… you were dying. Stomach wounds are so dangerous and you were already losing too much of it. Your life force was disappearing. I could feel it. You’re… I love you too much. I couldn’t… just let you die. Do you know what my life was like before I met you? It was fifty years of lonely darkness. Of empty interactions and passive acquaintances. I…”

“Wait. Fifty years? How old are you?” Jason demanded.

I met his gaze. The blue of his eyes was already turning muddy amber, turning to red. The first time he tasted human blood, the blue would be completely gone. “Seventy-one. Fifty years of that as a creature of the night. A monster in the darkness. Did I never tell you how old I am?”

“No!” Jason exclaimed.

“Oh yeah. I’m old. Well… I’m just as old as an average elderly person I guess. So I think I’m doing alright as far as aging goes.” I tried to smile but I couldn’t get over the terrible guilt eating me up. I’d directly betrayed Jason’s trust in me—and his wishes regarding his life.

“I think so too,” he said, giving me a squeeze. I burrowed into his side. “Babe… is there a cure for this?”

“Probably. Vampirism, like lycanthropy, is technically a curse—or a disease. There’s probably a way to reverse it.”

“So why didn’t you ever?”

“I don’t want to. I like who I am. Now anyway. I spent the first ten years of this existence loathing myself and despising the monster I’d become. And then one day I just… stopped. I… I realized as the times changed, that I was safe as a vampire. No one could rob me or mug me or hurt me anymore. And there was something incredibly freeing about that. And I embraced it. I learned martial arts and made myself better to defend other people. And that’s how Batfang eventually became a thing. Not until after your Big Bad Bat showed up in Gotham did I decide that a codename and costume might be fun, but I’ve been doing this for a while. But… if you really don’t want to be like me… we’ll find a cure.”

“If we did… would you take it with me? Be human ag—?”

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “I like being the way I am. But I’ll help you find a cure.” I sniffed. “First, though, we have to get you some sustenance. Otherwise you’ll starve to death within a day. But I do have to warn you: your fangs have little tiny holes in the bottom of the points. They’re downright impossible to actually see. Even for us. But that’s where your venom gets injected. You can’t stop your mouth from filling your fangs with venom, but you do have conscious control over releasing it. There’s a tiny bit of venom around your fangs. Not enough to turn a person into a vampire through feeding, but enough to numb the wounds and wipe the memories of the last few minutes from a victim’s mind. The venom inside your fangs is a slightly different chemical composition. It will turn a human into a vampire. So… when you feed, don’t release the venom. We don’t need anymore vampires in Gotham. I promise you that.”

Jason nodded. “Okay. What do we do?”

I met his eyes. “We’ll find a cure for you, darling. I swear to it on my soul that will never make it to heaven. But for now, we’re going hunting.”

#Batfang #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Jason to #jason todd fanfiction #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #DC #DC Imagine #DC FanFiction #BatFam #BatFam Imagine #BatFam FanFiction

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

addiction, m | ksj ending

pairing(s): seokjin x reader, mentions of past hoseok x reader

summary: Kim Seokjin goes through anger, fear, and inappropriate arousal and, quite frankly, he’s not sorry about it (well, he is a little sorry). It’s a roller coaster.

warnings: non-idol!AU; in which everyone makes bad choices; slow burn; rated M (18+) for language, mentions of drug use, mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts, violence, mentions of past cheating, smut (a little bit of a praise kink, cowgirl, repeated orgasms)

The air itself was tense.

He paced the front hallway after forcing the guards to make themselves scarce. He wasn’t wearing his tie and his blazer was somewhere in the house. That left him in his black suit pants and dark blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. If he was in his right mind, he would have cleaned himself up, perhaps made himself look less agitated as he waited.

You shouldn’t have let her go, Seokjin.

He was scolding himself. He should have trusted his instincts, but instead he let her go. He checked his phone again and there was the feed of the camera showing her leaving her house.

Moments before, he had the urge to call her suddenly, practically growling his instructions.

“Get your ass over here now and bring the week’s supply. All of it.”

He wasn’t even sure she was going to listen to him. But she was leaving her apartment. He shouldn’t have installed that camera outside her apartment, but he also didn’t give a single shit. He needed the peace of mind. He needed it.

He knew how selfish he was. Childish even. He knew it was wrong, all of it. He shouldn’t have kept her around after what happened to Hoseok. He shouldn’t have guilted her into staying a runner. He shouldn’t order her not to be touched, he shouldn’t touch her himself, and he shouldn’t, for fuck’s sake, give her continued access to cocaine.

But he did.

He rubbed his forehead, taking a deep breath. He knew he wasn’t a nice man. Maybe it was how he grew up – privileged and the youngest. Always fawned on and treasured. He had no cares in the world. He thought he could have whatever he wanted because money brought everything. And when money didn’t, well, emotions could be manipulated.

He knew he was deplorable. But none of that stopped him.

She wasn’t an addict. Fuck, she practically hated substances now. He knew she kept doing what he asked because she wanted to watch over her customers, wanting to check up on them even if it was to be the next dose. Seokjin knew how twisted that was. A drug dealer who cares because she couldn’t talk them out of the habit. She couldn’t stop them but maybe she could control their dose. And that was fucked up and he let it continue because he wanted to see her, even if she low-key hated his guts.

He really was the worst.

She was supposed to be his. But then she had met Hoseok, friend of a friend, and everything went to shit. He took the scraps he could get. He wasn’t proud of it. He made her do things sometimes when Hoseok was craving it really bad. Memories she probably buried so deep so she couldn’t remember them. And then Hoseok didn’t come to him one time, just once, and everything got even shitter, if possible.

He thought he could live like that. He thought he could continue being like that.

But this time was different. This time he could feel it. He didn’t know what she could do, but there was something different in her eyes this time. He hadn’t counted on that. He hadn’t counted on maybe, just maybe, she would stop this cycle herself.

He scowled, pacing more intensely now. Even now, he was sure of it. She didn’t like to admit it, but he knew her well and saw through her feeble attempts to hide her emotions. He had ignored it, but, of course, it steadily got worse. Each time he saw her, it was like a little more of her died inside. He thought she would get over it. She was a strong person. He had always admired that. Perhaps strong wasn’t the right word. Stubborn.

He punched the wall and growled. The pain felt like nothing compared to the heightening fear inside him. A fear he veiled in anger, the only way he knew how to deal with it.

The knock on the door was sharp.

It cut him out of his thoughts. A few swift strides and he practically ripped the door open. She was breathing hard through the black face mask, cheeks red from running. Grey sweatshirt and long grey shorts. He remembered that outfit. For once, however, her hands were bare. She had forgotten to wear her usual black gloves. She always wore them because she did not like handling the product directly. Fingerprints and shit like that. She looked surprised to see him opening the door.

Without greeting, he grabbed the front of the sweatshirt and dragged her inside, slamming the front door and locking it.

“Seokjin, what the–”

He shoved her into the wall, knocking the wind out of her. She gasped, head hitting the wall and seeing stars.

“Did you fucking bring it?”

“Fucking hell,” she swore, trying to blink her eyesight straight. “Yes, I brought it, you–”

He shoved her up the wall, taking the face mask off her roughly. He stared into her eyes, which were looking in every direction, getting back into focus. He checked her lips, her nose.

“Seokjin, are you trying to kill me? Fucking shit,” she groaned, shaking her head.

“Do I need to try if you were planning on doing it yourself?” he growled.

The air seemed to drop by ten degrees. Shock, and then shame flitted across her expression. She wasn’t looking at him. She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off.

“Lie to me. I fucking dare you.”

She closed her mouth and swallowed. Then she looked up at him. A little bloodshot. Focused and so dark that it ate him up inside seeing that. There was brightness there once. Life.

“Give it to me.”

He held one hand out but the other didn’t let go of her sweatshirt. Wordlessly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded handkerchief. She opened it in his hand. There it was. The packet of cocaine and a bottle of pills. The bottle rolled off his hand and fell to the floor, but he ignored it. He was looking at the plastic bag.

“You opened it.”

“I put it back,” she shot back.

He slammed his fist into her sternum, making her gasp painfully. “How much did you take?”

She suddenly shoved him, tone rising in rage. “I said I put it back, you asshole!”

He threw the packet at her, missing and hitting the wall. “Did you now? Suddenly a good girl?” he mocked, eyes narrowing.

“Fuck you, Seokjin! I’m not a fucking addict like you!”

Unfazed, he raised a finger, pointing at her. “At least I’m not addicted to actively punishing myself mentally and physically over nothing.”

“Nothing?” she hissed, slapping his finger away and shoving him again. “Nothing? You fucking cold-hearted, greedy shit, always acting high and mighty,” she shouted, clenching her fists. “As if you fucking know. As if you would ever have a clue what it was like to be in love.”

“I know,” he scowled. “I watched you and Hoseok frolic around until the end.”

“You–” She tried to slap him, but he dodged out of the way. She glared and turned around, obviously intending to head out. He grabbed her arm and dragged her back.

“Let me go,” she snapped, trying to punch him but he caught her hand in mid-air, squeezing it uncomfortably.

“You know you can’t actually land a hit on me unless I let you.” His voice was low, dangerous.

She stopped struggling and just glowered at him, clenching her jaw. “What are you going to do? Keep me prisoner?”

“Maybe I should. Prevents you from doing anything stupid.”

She was breathing hard. He was much bigger and stronger than she was. His broad shoulders towered over her, and his grip was tight and unrelenting. She changed her tone.

“Why do you care?” She narrowed her eyes. “Can’t have your precious runner die on you?”

He scoffed. “I have many more, better runners who service many more customers than you.”

“Then why does it matter?” she challenged. “I’m just a pawn in your game. Just let me die in peace.”

His blood ran cold. She cemented the worst with those words.

“You’re so caught up in Hoseok’s death that you think about nothing else,” he breathed through gritted teeth.

Her dark eyes flashed. “And why does that matter? You couldn’t give two shits Hoseok died. It only meant I wasn’t going to suck your dick or let you finger fuck me in an alley anymore.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Her eyes widened at the sharp retort. He was staring at her with a mixture of fury and despair.

“Your head is so far up your ass you didn’t even think to look around you.” He released her suddenly, pushing her away from him. “You think I don’t know what love is?” he asked, voice breaking a little as she looked at him, mouth open in shock. He huffed, shaking his head. “I love you. I always have, from the moment I saw you. You can stand there and deny it all you want, but you know it’s true.” He sighed, frowning. “But then you met Hoseok and you instantly fell in love with him. And, shit, Hoseok was a great guy. What was I supposed to do? Not let the women I love be happy?”

“You… you made me do all kinds of sexual favors for you,” she sputtered.

He raised an eyebrow. “And? You were begging for cocaine to feed your boyfriend’s bad habits. You think I would let you have that for free without benefiting off of it?” He chuckled, half in disbelief and half in his own shame. “Are you a saint? You were poisoning my friend right in front of my fucking face.” He cocked his chin at her. “It’s not like you were poor. You have money. You did it anyway.”

Her lips trembled. She looked from the ground to the wall and then to him. “B-but…”

“I should have stopped you both,” he continued, sighing again. “I should have cut him off and I should have made you break up with him. I saw where it was going.” He ran his fingers through his hair, dismayed. “I should have done something. Maybe he wouldn’t be dead. Maybe you wouldn’t be like this.”

“I… I haven’t changed.”

“Haven’t changed?” he snorted disbelievingly. “You’re a shell of a person. You live in Hoseok’s shadow, trapping yourself in there.” He took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Wake up.”

She lifted her head, dark orbs to his. It hurt him to see her like this. It hurt him to know it was partially his fault. Maybe he couldn’t stop her one day in the future. Maybe one day he would be too late and then he would turn into her. Pure apathy, navigating life but not caring for it.

Her head fell. They both knew they had made terrible choices. He exhaled and placed his forehead on top of her head, closing his eyes. Her hair smelled good, a gentle herbal scent.

“Please… I don’t want you to die,” he whispered. The emotion was seeping into his voice, anger dissipating into sadness. It was hurting him so much. He never told her because he didn’t want to burden her with his sorrows too. But he couldn’t stop it now. The walls he made to protect her were cracking, one by one.

“Seokjin…” The way she said his name was shattering his heart. So empty and miserable. “I want to see him.”

“I know,” he murmured, forcing his tears back. “I do too.”

There was a silence. Enough of a moment for Seokjin to collect himself and steady his emotions. He had to be strong. He had to support her.

“You didn’t really mean it, right?” she quietly asked. “When you said you loved me.”

“It wasn’t past tense, Moon.”

She pulled her head back and looked up at him, staring into his brown eyes. He had no lies to tell. He gazed back, smiling just a little.

“I thought I was obvious,” he teased gently. He wasn’t proud of being an absolute dick and taking advantage of her. He knew he was overtly flirtatious, but he also knew there were lines he couldn’t cross. He wasn’t going to try and pursue a relationship when he knew she didn’t want it. It didn’t make his feelings go away though. It didn’t matter who he fucked or who wanted him. The end result was always the same.

It was pathetic, he knew.

She bit her lip, frowning. “You could have forced me to be with you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Contrary to your opinion of me, I wouldn’t do that to Hoseok or to you.”

“Yet… you kissed me at that time.”

His lips pursed. “I make mistakes too.” With a heavy sigh, he took a step back, smiling sadly at her. His hands left her shoulders, slowly, one by one. For the longest time, he had wanted her by his side, always. For the longest time, he had wanted her to stay with him, always. But this time, he felt defeated. This time, he didn’t feel like getting his way.

“It’s time for me to let you go,” he said, smiling at her, crushing his own heart with his own words, smashing it into tiny pieces and praying for them to never come back together. He gestured to the door and turned away from her. He couldn’t save her, no matter how hard he tried. The only thing he could do was stay away from her and keep the drugs out of her reach. He reached down and plucked the packet and the bottle from the floor. What started it all. Just some stupid white powder. He shoved it in his pocket, closing his eyes.

What was I thinking?

“We had fun, didn’t we?” he murmured, more to himself.

“Seokjin.”

Fingers suddenly grasped the sleeve of his dress shirt. Pull away. He bit his lip. He had to be strong. He had to pull away. But he hesitated all the same.

“Please don’t.”

The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Don’t what, my darling?”

She didn’t reprimand him this time. He felt her walk around him, standing in front of him. He couldn’t open his eyes. Don’t look. He knew he would fall apart if he looked.

“Don’t let go.”

She pressed her lips to his, softly. He felt his resolve crack. He opened his eyes, only a little. Her eyes were closed, brows furrowed as she feverishly kissed him. After his lack of reaction, she broke apart from him, looking up at him with questioning eyes.

“I have to.” To his surprise, his voice was weak, wavering. He had never been so scared in his entire life. “I’m a cold-hearted, greedy shit, remember?”

She frowned at her own words being repeated back to her. “I’m sorry I said that.”

His lips curved upwards ever so slightly. “You shouldn’t be. It’s true, after all.”

She chewed on her lower lip, looking down as she twisted her hands at her stomach. “But you still tried to help me. Even though I always refused it.”

Against his better judgement, he reached out and lifted her head with his fingers. He rubbed his thumb against her chin.

“I had to keep trying for my Moon.”

Her lips parted. She tried to kiss him again, but he turned his hand and pressed on her chest gently, preventing her.

“You don’t need to do that anymore to get what you want,” he said quietly. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he smiled anyway.

The eyes that looked at him – those dark, dark eyes – full of an emotion he didn’t understand. She was looking at him, deep into his exposed soul, seeing all of him.

“If what I want…” she whispered, lips brushing against his thumb. “If what I want is you, right now, would you say no?”

He should say no. He should refuse and walk away. But he knew his answer and he was sure that she had found him out already.

“I wouldn’t.”

If he could look into those eyes forever, he would. If he could freeze this moment forever, he would. But nothing was forever. He knew that and she knew that.

Her tongue slid out from between her lips and licked his thumb tentatively. He pulled his hand back swiftly, swallowing thickly.

“Don’t pretend for my sake,” he warned. “Don’t give me false hope.”

Maybe it was a joke. Maybe she didn’t really mean it. In the end, he was weak when it came to her. In the end, he gave in. He couldn’t refuse. When he was so drunk that he couldn’t see straight anymore, she was the reason he made himself throw it back up. When he was high as a kite, drifting into nothingness, the only thing he couldn’t forget was her. She was the one he dreamed of at night. When there was only darkness, she was the moonlight. She was the reason to keep going.

She reached out and wrapped her hands around his. “I want you, Seokjin. Show me how much you love me.”

He pulled her to him, making her stumble into him. He crashed his lips into hers, kissing her fully. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, pressing it against hers. It was messy and rough, almost as if they were back at that time. Back at those parties, drunkenly making out, not really knowing what was going on. He let go of her hands and wrapped them around her waist, lifting her up easily. She wrapped her legs around his waist and continued kissing him, sucking on his tongue the way he liked. He moaned into her mouth, walking them to the room. The room they had been in so many times before, but for different reasons. Her sucked on her lower lip, nipping on it softly. She pulled away, kissing his cheeks and jaw, tongue lacing around his earlobe. He shuddered, opening the door and feeling her suck on it softly. His hands held her tightly as he fell onto the black leather sofa with her on top of him.

“Here?” she mumbled, chuckling.

“Look, this is a big house and walking to a bedroom is going to take at least ten minutes,” he growled, squeezing her ass playfully.

“Next time, then,” she said, making his heart skip two beats.

She kissed down his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. Her fingers fumbled with the small buttons of his dress shirt.

“For fuck’s sake, rip it open,” he complained.

She laughed a little. He was seriously going to have a heart attack from the arrhythmia she was giving him. “You’re too rich,” she commented, before she hooked her fingers between the folds and ripped the shirt open, causing buttons to fly everywhere and clatter to the floor.

“I’m horny; there’s a difference,” he retorted, yanking the shirt out of his pants himself.

She paused, eyes going down his toned chest. She could see his scars, some she knew, some she didn’t. Her fingers traced them, running down his skin, setting it afire. The shirt slid down his arms, and he lifted his arms out of it. It was useless now anyway.

She kissed his chest, her soft lips like a dream. Her tongue traced the contours of his muscle, hands pressed against his sides. As she kissed down, the hands slid up his broad back. He bit his lip and laid his head back. Down, down, kissing his belly button lightly, then down to the edge of his pants. She spread his legs, nuzzling his crotch. His erection strained against his clothes and she pressed her nose against it, breathing on it.

“Fucking shit…”

She came back up, a sly smile on her face. She straddled his lap, having to spread her legs even more to accommodate him. He could feel her inner thighs, the heat positioned right above his cock. She rolled her hips into him, pressing her heat against his stiffness.

He groaned, hands gripping the hem of her sweatshirt. He pulled it up and over her head, tossing it onto the marble table. Another second and he had unhooked the black bra. She shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor. Her nice round breasts, nipples sticking straight out at him. He cupped them in his hands and ran his tongue over them, flicking a nipple and earning a soft moan. He sucked on them greedily, lapping up their taste, intoxicated. She gripped his shoulders for balance, panting his name.

“Seokjin… ah…”

He pressed his thumbs against them, rubbing them roughly. “Are you my good girl?” he murmured, watching her come undone with his touch. “Are you all mine?” He pinched them and she gasped, grinding her hips into him.

“Yes, Seokjin,” she breathed, nails digging into his shoulders.

He smiled, slowly letting her go. “You have to take off your clothes then, so I can reward you,” he ordered, lightly pushing her off him. She hooked her fingers on the side of her shorts, but he stopped her, twirling his finger with a smirk.

“Turn around first.”

She gave him a look but he simply grinned. Turning around, she pulled the shorts and her underwear down together, exposing her ass and pussy as she bent down. His lips parted seeing her sex glisten with arousal. He hadn’t expected it, even now. She turned back around, frowning as she saw him with his pants still on.

“Too busy to take yours off too?’ she chided, reaching over to unzip his pants.

He smirked. “It’s a good view.”

She was about to yank his pants down but he stopped her, reaching into his other pocket to pull out his wallet. She raised an eyebrow. He took out the condom and placed it beside him before wiggling out of his underwear and pants.

“And here I thought you were going to pull out some money,” she pouted childishly.

He chuckled. “You can have my card any time you want, my love.”

He took her hand and cupped it around his cock, exhaling in satisfaction as she touched him. He had missed this, selfishly. They have never had sexual encounters with all of their clothes off. It was always a spur of the moment, an impulse they craved. She stroked him, but he kept his hand around hers, dictating the pace.

“I can go faster than this,” she said.

“Oh, I know,” he replied, sighing in bliss. “But I have more work to do, so I’m not trying to blow my load in five seconds.”

“What about me?” she asked, lifting her leg and tilting her hips towards him. It was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen, her dripping pussy facing him, wanting him.

He let her hand go, hesitantly. “Okay, okay. Get on top of me.”

He rolled the condom onto his cock as she climbed on top, positioning herself above him. Once he was finished, he held it in place as she sank down on him. Slowly. So hot, so wet, her muscles clenching around him, sucking him in. He clenched his teeth. He had only been inside her a few times. Only when Hoseok was really passed out and wouldn’t hear them. Because he couldn’t contain himself knowing his cock was filling her up, feeling her muscles tighten around him, pulsing. It felt so good. He reached up and placed his hand around her waist, positioning her so his cock was touching that spot she liked, making her moan and throw her head back as he thrust into it lightly.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he breathed. “You can take what I’m going to give you, can’t you?”

She knew what he meant. “Y-yes, Seokjin.”

Fuck, he loved it when she said his name so breathlessly like that. “Hold on, my darling.”

She looped her arms around his shoulders and he slammed his hips into her. She gasped at his forcefulness, but there was so time to collect herself as he thrust into her, bouncing her up and down on his cock, letting gravity sink her back down. She cried out, biting her lip hard as he pounded her, muffling them. He called her name, making her look down at him.

“Let me hear you,” he panted. “Scream my name.”

He thrust into her, hard, making her yelp and throw her head back.

“S-Seokjin, fuck!”

“Too rough?” he mocked, ramming into her while pulling her down on him.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Fuck, fuck, Seokjin, whatever you want,” she gasped, “You know you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Yeah?” He rolled his hips, hitting that sweet spot. She moaned his name, dragging it out as he continued. “Squeeze my cock with that delicious pussy of yours. Cum all over it.”

He felt her muscles contract around him and he had to chomp down on his tongue to avoid losing it right then and there. He had to make her orgasm multiple times first. He had to. He stopped, pulling her up so only the tip was inside her. She whined, trying to wiggle back down.

He reached between her legs and found her clit, rubbing it. She gasped, her eyes rolling back into her head as he pinched it, causing her walls to clench and liquid gush down his cock, coating it with wet stickiness.

“F-fuck, Seokjin!”

He grinned, letting her sink back down, but still rubbing her clit. She clung onto him, rocking her hips into his hand as he continued his assault on her clit. He ran his nail over it and she wailed, pussy gripping him tightly as waves of pleasure racked through her, clenching his cock in her warm vice.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered softly in her ear. He removed his hand and she shuddered, her swollen clit rubbing against him as he pressed his hips against hers.

“It’s going to be even better now,” he purred. He lifted her again and began a slow pace, dragging her clit against his skin each time he went down, earning a whine of pleasure each time.

“Seokjin, y-you’re crazy,” she panted, her body shaking in his hands.

“Crazy for your body,” he grinned, thrusting into her harder. She groaned, both at the response and his movements. Each time her body shuddered and he felt her become wetter, he increased his pace, harder, faster. Her pussy throbbed around him.

“M-more, Seokjin, fuck… fuck me up,” she pleaded, meeting his pace.

He couldn’t take much more. Her head thrown back, her breasts bouncing in his face, her completely fucked out expression and her pussy pulsating around him. So hot, so wet, so tight. He felt the familiar sensation tightening inside him. He thrust harder, giving it all he had. He breathed her name.

“Look at me.”

She did, pupils blown wide, devoured in pleasure that was all him, him fucking her senseless, him filling her up with his cock, him making her weak.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He came with a cry, slamming her down on his cock as it shot into the condom. His cock twitched inside her. He shut his eyes, moaning as he felt her pussy squeezing him, milking every last drop uselessly. Her head fell against his shoulder, her heavy breathing against his ear. He shivered. He was wet, sticky, and absolutely filthy. It was amazing.

“You have to get up, my love,” he whispered, exhausted.

He reached down and held the condom as she winced, pulling off of him. His cock slid out and smacked him in the thigh. He was surprised he was still semi-hard after all that.

She slid down next to him. She had never sat down next to him before, not in this room. His heart thudded in his chest and not from the afterglow.

“Seokjin…”

“… Yes?”

“Can we at least find a bed to sleep?”

masterpost

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x you #seokjin x you #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #jin x you #bts jin #bts smut #kim seokjin smut #seokjin smut #jin smut

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nctzendreamz · 4 years

Text

HOMECOMING • PROLOGUE

Prologue / Part l / Part ll / Part lll

Summary: The year is 3030, and the divide between the rich and poor couldn’t be greater. Wildwood University is the most prestigious school in the entire world, but it isn’t only because of the impeccable flying cars that can be seen best during the fuchsia lit nights, or the dexterous education everyone receives. It has secrets. A lot of secrets.

Genre: Gang!AU, Futuristic!AU

Warnings: Vivid descriptions of violence, foul language, drug use, and murder.

Author’s Note: I love you all. I hope you will love this rollercoaster of emotions as much as I do.

Once upon a time, there was a boy. This boy was gentle, and loved to explore. Sometimes, he’d even allow his imagination to posses his body, pretending he was something he knew he’d never be, such as a racecar driver, a superhero, or his favorite—loved.

Now, as that boy travels down the dark corridor that lead to his instructor, he can’t help but to smile. His left hand caresses the mangled brick wall, reminding him of every waste of space that had been dismembered in his sanctuary. Even the two men who were unnecessarily escorting him down the dimly lit space seemed frightened at the way he lightly chuckles to himself, but they know if they look at him wrong, he’ll simply kill them too.

As they approach what was known as the “black door”, he knocks a familiar tune, informing the man on the other side it was one of his own.

With an almost cinematic effect, all of the locks audibly unravel, and a flashing light blinks onto his face, silently giving him permission to step in. He looks around, trying to see if any new souvenirs had been added to the otherwise plain walls, but he sees nothing fresh. The picture of all of the boys of NEO rests in the center of the large room, and as always, he spots himself first.

“Lee Taeyong.” A deep voice addresses, obviously coming from the leather chair which was turned the opposing way.

“Mr. Sooman.” He bows, although the man couldn't see him. They didn’t have the technology for such a myth, but there was always a fear he had eyes in the back of his head.

The chair slowly begins to turn, revealing the only person in this world that brought fear into Taeyong. His current sadistic smile was a testament to that, as well as the sweat that began to form under the arms of the boy.

“Why so stiff? It’s just me, your father?” He teases.

“My apologies.” Was all Taeyong could muster, now wanting nothing more than to get straight to the point. He wanted his mission.

“Did you take your pill today?”

“Of course I did.” He lied.

“Then why are you so jittery? He eyes the slim boy suspiciously, standing up now.

Taeyong decides on silence, as he doesn’t want to speak his truth to his father figure. His eyes once again fall on the photo hanging, and he tries to relax himself by focusing on his hair color. He can now vaguely see it’s raging orange print, probably the most color he’d ever see in his lifetime.

His meditation is interrupted with the sound of two precise claps, and a tiny robot now at his feet projecting light onto the blank wall. What seemed like millions of photos appear one by one, and so much color. Even though it was faded, he was still incredibly fascinated.

His eyebrows are raised ever so slightly, and his mouth waters, yet, he can still sense his elder approaching him. It ran through his blood to do so. He always had to be on guard. If anyone was able to run up on you, and hurt you even slightly, you’d most likely be murdered by the others because—how can you be so dumb? How can you sleep at night without the feeling of someone watching you? Your hairs stand up, a chill stretches against you. It’s very simple, actually.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of Wildwood?”

Taeyong snaps his focus back on the man who’s eyes were watching him intently. “Yes. Founded in 2002 by Lobos Smith. Known as the most prestigious, and honorable university in the world. They specialize in futuristic science, and were the first school to perfect the seemingly impossible flying car. In short, rich motherfuckers.” He spat, feeling his blood pressure heighten at the mention of wealthy.

“Very good, boy.” Mr. Sooman continues to circle his apprentice, as the wood floor creaks with his every step. “As you know, we’ve always had buisness with the Smith’s.”

Taeyong nods confidently, showing with his body language that he was genuinely aware of this fact.

“Well, I want you to kill them.”

The screen zooms into four faces, none of them familiar to him. A man, a woman, a girl, and a boy.

“This is the Smith family. Maleen Smith, President of Wildwood. His wife, Bianca, his son Johnny, and your most important target, Y/N.”

“Why is she the most important?” Taeyong questions, finally getting comfortable in his element. You could say what you wanted about him, but you couldn’t deny his manipulative talents, and serious approach for his job. He was always thirsty for blood.

“Because she is their pride and joy.” Mr. Sooman responds with a devilish grin, clearly knowing more than he was revealing. “Sweet girl, smart girl, naive girl.”

“So what? You want me and the guys to meet them for dinner or something? Blast their heads off?”

The team of NEO was a dangerous one, and everyone who lived in this hell knew it. Their kills were always vicious, but the handmade masks they wore during their greatest hits hid their identity. All of them were specifically designed to the personalities of the boys, and their set skills. Taeyong, for example, always spotted a bedazzled fox, labeled red although he had yet to test that to be true. It was a metaphor to his sly nature, always able to easily grab the attention of clueless street-walkers. They were so awful at selling, and making deals for drugs that made people go off the charts. So easy to take advantage of.

They were essentially target practice. Something to play with. A pure rush; giving them their fix of killing and feeling superior because in any of situation, they were powerless. They were poor, and every fucking day did they have to watch projections of news from the other side. So many new inventions. More ways to protect the earth from falling back to its horrid ways. The way NEO looked. Dirty—dull.

Taeyong’s hand naturally reaches for his weapon that was always stashed in his pants, and quite a few scenarios run through his brain; different approaches that could be taken. “Call the meeting and consider it done, sir.”

“While I do appreciate your hungry nature, boy; I’m sure you’ve noticed that you’re the only person in this room right now, haven’t you?” The undertone of his voice reads nothing but menace, and Taeyong is truly trying his hardest to prevent his eyes from squeezing shut, or letting a mere drip of sweat dazzle from his forehead onto the ground. It would reveal he did indeed lie about taking his pill, and that would mean he’d have to double up.

“I have noticed, but I figured that I was in here because I’m the most superior.”

In reality, he wasn’t such a cocky bastard. At least, when he wasn’t high off of Indigo. That was the drug Sooman kept pestering him about, and it was what seperared NEO from the rest of the poor souls who lived in this baseless city. That’s what they were told.

Indigo made them strong, and it made them unstoppable. The more they took, the greater their kills felt, and the more their talents shined. Some were more addicted than others, and didn’t care about the black and white scenery that covered their headspace. Others, like Taeyong, planned to sneak up to the rooftop of the building tonight and see the sky, even if it would be half colored, half gray. At least that was the plan, before now.

They were always told that if they didn’t take their pill, the side effects would be deadly. Taeyong now knows this to be true, as his anxiety couldn’t be more intense in an environment where he was usually light and easy, and his mind is spinning. Random spurts of color can be seen everytime he moves his eyes in another direction, and even the colors on the projector are incredibly detailed.

“So you did take your pill today.” The man laughs, patting him on the back. “You’re right, you know.” His voice is light now, almost like a switch removing his dark demeanor. The sound of the floor creaking was practically making Taeyong lose his mind, but he can’t show it. “You are the best. And that is why this mission isn’t going to just be a ‘get the job done’ kind of mission.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” He reaches for his back pocket, pulling out a sheet of paper. It was folded into three, and Taeyong can feel his eyebrows basically touching, and his petite nose scrunching as he opened up his mail.

“Congratulations on being excepted into Wildwood University! Founded in 2002, it’s always been Wildwood’s mission to accept the best, so the future can be bright! Lee Taeyong, we cannot wait for you to transfer to our school of futuristic science, and see all you have to offer the brightest side of the world!”

That was all he had to see before he looks up in shock, clearly unable to believe in such an opportunity.

“I’m going—

“Yes. You, a poor boy, going to their world.”

“And I’m going to invade.” He seemingly finished.

“You’re not just going to invade. You’re going to make that girl fall in love with you, and you’re going to make those wealthy pieces of shit trust you, and then—when they finally accept you as their son, and that girl would die for you, you will bring them to me.”

“Like a parasite.”

“No. You, my boy, were born to eliminate the parasites. They don’t deserve to multiply, or reproduce.”

Maybe it was because of the lack of intoxication, but Taeyong feels himself getting too excited about this. The manipulation was excellent, and the plan couldn’t fail. He was charming in all aspects of the word.

“What did they do to you?” Was his final question. He once again is in a stare down with the older man infront of him, who had returned to his seat now.

“They took something from us, and they have to pay. No mistake goes unseen in NEO. You know that.”

“I won’t let you down, sir.” Taeyong bows, just as he did when he originally walked in. The respect was clear, even if the roots of the plan seemed eerie. He trusted his leader with his life, and if he said someone needed to die, it was the truth. He was going to bring their heads back on a silver fucking platter.

#nct #nct 127 #nct taeyong #taeyong #nct series #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct scenario #taeyong nct #homecoming #kpop #gang au #nct gang au #kpop gang au #kpop imagine

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clembarbarossa · 4 years

Text

Rest and Peace III

The life of an Assassin is one of constant toil, emotional duress and gruesome murders. So, I thought it would be nice to give them rest. Nice days to recover and do what they enjoy at least, amongst their loved ones.

Hey! New chapter is out! Special serving for all of you who love our Frye twins when their are little shites!

Here on Ao3

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

« Jacob! That’s the third time this week you ditched Father’s lessons; he’s going to whoop your arse! » Evie bellowed. “And if I have to do your chores again, I’m going to kick your buttocks up to London!”

No response. Typical.

In this slow spring afternoon, only a few of the denizens of Crawley payed any mind to young miss Frye in her quest for her missing twin. They all have learnt that getting involved in the businesses of these two was way more pain than it was worth, especially if the esteemed Mr Frye wasn’t here to keep them in check, especially Jacob… although his sister could be just as much of a menace when she wanted to. How the scholarly and dignified Mr Frye could have sired such a rambunctious pair was anyone’s guess, but the early death of poor Cecily, their late mother, and the frequent absence of their father to mysterious “business travels” could most certainly be to blame. At least, that’s what Ms Perkins told Ms Brawnsworth when they last had tea together.

Evie was simmering. None of the passers-by could give her any information about her brother’s whereabouts. He went too far this time. Skipping lessons was something already, but his chores too! He’s going to get it this time!

After several fruitless leads, Evie sat on a bench to collect herself and devise a plan of action. Father’s teaching on this topic guided her to be methodical in her search and it wasn’t the first time she had to track someone to hone her skills, but few targets proved to be as elusive as her brother. He may feign to ignore a lot of their father’s teaching, but it certainly wasn’t lost on him. A search plan started to spring in her mind: going straight to the market place as she was used to was a mistake, she needed to go back to the source.

Back home, the young girl started to inspect the surrounding of their house and it didn’t take long before she was able to spot her brother’s tracks… just under his bedroom’s windows. Couldn’t he use the door like a civilised person? He might have eloped this morning when Father called for them.

From then on, Evie focused on the tracks Jacob made on the fresh ground. Contrary to what she first expected, it wasn’t an easy task. Not because her twin made any effort to hide his tracks but because they were frequently interrupted by his climbing of any buildings or trees that happened to cross his path. Evie frequently had to circle whole blocks of houses to find his path again. The process was considerably sped up when she reluctantly started to follow him in free-running. She wasn’t as skilled at it as he was yet, but her proficiency at stealth helped her to complete her task without being spotted and yelled at by any passing adult. Once on the rooftops, a few displaced tiles or mark of hands could help her guess the direction of his escape, details that would escape the perception of most people but not one of an Assassin. Well, a novice one, at least. Her focus would heighten her senses and allow her to see what most people would miss.

She continued to follow Jacob’s trail and noticed it led to the Mole river. She wondered if he was here to plan mischief with his usual gang of brothers from the large Welsh family down street. The silence when she reached the riverbank surprised her, none of their usual ruckus could be heard. Evie noticed from the tracks that her brother sat near the water for a while before getting up to follow the stream. She followed his track till the ruins of the old mill.

The contraption was in disarray since quite a few decades now, since bigger water and windmills were constructed in the village. Small water mills like this one couldn’t compete against the big ones like when the one in Ifield[1] once it was rebuilt and even this one was starting to struggle against the new ones using steam to grind wheat into flour. Such was progress, thought Evie. Now the old mill couldn’t grind anything even if it wanted to, the water wasn’t even reaching its rotting wheel through the overshoot anymore and sand was starting to pile up at its feet under the shallow stream. This was after noticing this that she spotted Jacob.

Her idiot brother was lying on top of the wheel, the broken blades where in a near horizontal position and could actually feel comfy even without the blanket Jacob probably stole somewhere to lay down on them. Taking care to not be seen, Evie approached to get a better view of what her twin was doing. The rascal was lying on his back, one leg tucked on top of another, barefoot and – to Evie’s surprise – he was reading a book!

Now the young girl was taken aback, Jacob actually went this far just to read in peace? And he seemed quite taken by his reading as well, what piece of literature could it be to rapture Jacob’s attention? She squinted to take a better look at it from where she stood.

Confessions of an English Opium-Eater. Really??

It was so just like him. Father taught them of the various drugs and chemicals they could use in the last lesson he actually attended. And he mentioned opium as something to avoid unless in need to alleviate extreme pain. Of course, Jacob had to learn more about everything Father warned them against. Or could it be that he was reading this book in order to actually understand why this drug was to be avoided? Evie pondered a moment about her brother’s possible bout of wisdom and if she should make her presence known to him. She suddenly got curious about his choice of place of hiding instead. The broken blades atop the wheel couldn’t be the only thing of interest in this place, couldn’t it? The door of the dilapidated building was missing and Evie entered it.

It took her eyes some moments to adapt to the darkness inside, although several rays of light were peeking through the ruined roof. Some birds were chirping above the young girl’s head and flew away when she moved further in. She paused, in case it tipped off Jacob of her presence, but the boy just lazily rolled on his side to assume another reading position. Evie sighed and started to inspect the mill’s mechanisms. The wood was rotten in many places and the grinding stone covered in dust and moss, but everything was still in place. Surprisingly, the wheel’s axle was still linked to the main mechanism and only held on by a rusting brake. Sure, it wasn’t as dangerous to leave it that way compared to a windmill but still, the brake could break and the wheel move again…

It was with this sudden realisation that a mischievous grin illuminated Evie’s face. She knew exactly how to get back at Jacob for ditching his chores onto her.

Whilst her dear brother was still oblivious of her presence, she moved to further inspect the brake and how to move it without alerting him. The damn thing was heavily rusted and the wood thoroughly rotten. She tried to move it without much success and the effort nearly made her grunt which would have given away her position. Her frustration, pilling up from this morning was reaching new heights as her idiot brother was obliviously reading junk literature just a few feet away. Collecting herself, she figured that a lever could do to lift the brake, more silently than a hammer for sure. She quickly spotted an adequate plank in the surrounding mess. Not to large and still in good shape.

Placing the plank’s end under the brake’s tip, she started to maneuver it and had to refrain a sound of triumph when she saw the engine starting to give way. Through the holes in the wall she saw the wheel moving a bit. Jacob was so enraptured in his reading that he payed no mind to this worrisome – for him, at least – development. She pushed her lever again in the widening cap between the brake and the wheel and, once the lever firmly in place, pushed down all her weight on it.

The brake jumped from the cogwheel it used to hold and the latter, free at last, started to move, the axle in tow. Slowly at first, with profusion of creaks and groans, that startled Jacob. The young boy sat up on reflex and the sudden change in weight distribution atop the main wheel, plus a few well-placed pushes from Evie, flew the whole engine in motion.

“Wow-ah! What the bloody heeeeell?!” Jacob screamed as the he was cast down head-first by the wheel onto the mud bellow.

From inside the mill, Evie had a really hard time suppressing her laughter when she saw her brother land flat on his belly, the blanket followed and covered him just before his book stroke his head which elicited a painful “Ow!” from the boy.

Groaning and moaning, Jacob slowly emerged from under the now soiled blanket to stand up, still shivering from the shock. He glared with anger at the slowing wheel and kicked it. Being still barefoot at this point, he only managed to hurt himself and yelled in pain, before getting startled when broken fragment of the blades nearly feel on him. Evie had to bite her own hand to refrain herself from snickering at her brother’s ordeal. Said brother, once his pain dulled, started to suspiciously look around and Evie made sure to stand completely still and silent. After a few moments, he picked up the blanket and his book before fetching his shoes from under a bush and running in their house’s direction.

Evie needed a few moments to collect herself as well, as spams of laughter wouldn’t let her breathe in peace for several minutes. Once calmed down, she left the mill to get back home.

She reached their house while dusk was slowly setting. She saw her brother getting gently scolded by their father on their front lawn, the book now in his hand. Jacob was silently starring at the ground, Evie noticed that he had taken the time to put his shoes back but was still caked in mud in many places, the blanket was nowhere to be seen. Evie approached slowly, feigning an air of innocence:

“Oh my! She said with a mocking tone, the bird has finally returned to his nest!”

Both Ethan and Jacob turned to face her and Jacob squinted suspiciously at her. Ethan’s face remained neutral when he spoke: “Indeed, before you could find him.” Evie was picked by the unexpected answer and Jacob couldn’t help but notice it with a smirk that vanished once his father’s attention was back on him.

“Now my lad, you’re going to wash yourself, change into clean clothes and you’ll launder those first thing tomorrow morning, understood?”

“Yes father…” Jacob mumbled, and Evie couldn’t help but to feel a bit sorry for him after all. As he was making way inside the house, Ethan taped on the book cover and handed it to his son with a smile.

“Make sure to finish it too and tell me what you learnt of it after, alright?”

Both twins stood a moment, taken aback by this, but Jacob took the book from his father’s hand with a nod before heading home. Both Ethan and Evie watched him go silently before the Assassin turned to his daughter:

“Now Evie, some more lessons in tracking targets are in order, don’t you think?”

The young girl silently nodded. She probably had proven herself in this matter today but telling it would expose the prank she subjected her brother to and she wasn’t going to risk that. Plus, she was always looking up to the prospect of new lessons from her father and a part of her hoped that Jacob will finally be with them at least.

“I think so too, Father. Jacob and I still have much to learn.” She said with an earnest tone that elicited a nod of approval from Ethan Frye.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ifield_Water_Mill

#Mes bafouilles #Assassin's Creed #Evie Frye #Jacob Frye #Ethan Frye #Kids #Child games #Pranks #Rest and Peace #Fanfics

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